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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-03 15:49:41 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-03 15:49:41 -0800 |
| commit | 2cb5d6a20c8251a1f2664c99fcbf2164a9a71e19 (patch) | |
| tree | 5e4382f8580626783bfdd289675ad15d02c31835 /49342-h/49342-h.html | |
| parent | da94393e406f34c9e8daa2bb8aaff42689a77fdd (diff) | |
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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -<title>THE STICKIT MINISTER'S WOOING</title> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Stickit Minister's Wooing" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="49342" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Stickit Minister's Wooing and Other Galloway Stories" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2015-07-01" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="S. R. Crockett" /> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1900" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> - -<link rel="schema.DCTERMS" href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" /> -<link rel="schema.MARCREL" href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators/" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.title" content="The Stickit Minister's Wooing and Other Galloway Stories" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.source" content="/home/ajhaines/wooing/wooing.rst" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.language" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" content="en" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.modified" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" content="2015-07-01T18:33:13.677075+00:00" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.publisher" content="Project Gutenberg" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.rights" content="Public Domain in the USA." /> -<link rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49342" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.creator" content="S. R. Crockett" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.created" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" content="2015-07-01" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="Ebookmaker 0.4.0a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-stickit-minister-s-wooing"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE STICKIT MINISTER'S WOOING</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> included with -this ebook or online at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>. If you -are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws -of the country where you are located before using this ebook.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Stickit Minister's Wooing -<br /> and Other Galloway Stories -<br /> -<br />Author: S. R. Crockett -<br /> -<br />Release Date: July 01, 2015 [EBook #49342] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE STICKIT MINISTER'S WOOING</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="container titlepage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">THE</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold red xx-large">STICKIT MINISTER'S WOOING</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">AND OTHER GALLOWAY STORIES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">By</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large red">S. R. CROCKETT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">LONDON -<br />HODDER AND STOUGHTON -<br />PATERNOSTER ROW -<br />MCM</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics small">Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="container dedication"> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics small">To -<br />The Well-Beloved Memory -<br />of</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">R. L. S.</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">to whom, eight years ago, I -<br />dedicated the first series of -<br />the "Stickit Minister" stories</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<!-- center large bold - -A LOOK BEHIND—AND FORWARD --> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Eight years ago "The Stickit Minister" stood -friendless without the door of letters. He knew -no one within, and feared greatly lest no hand of -welcome should be held out to him from those -already within, so that, being encouraged, he too -might pluck up heart of grace to enter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet when the time came, the Stickit One found -not one, but two right hands outstretched to greet -him, which, after all, is as many as any man may -grasp at once. One was reached out to me from -far-away Samoa. The other belonged to a man -whom, at that time, I knew only as one of the most -thoughtful, sympathetic, and brilliant of London -journalists, but who has since become my friend, -and at whose instance, indeed, this Second Series -of "The Stickit Minister" stories has been written. -To these two men, the London man of letters and -the Samoan exile, I owe the first and greatest -of an author's literary debts—that of a first -encouragement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were both men I had never seen; and -neither was under any obligation to help me. -Concerning the former, still strenuously and -gallantly at work among us, I will in this place say -nothing further. But, after having kept silence -for eight years lest I should appear as one that -vaunted himself, I may be permitted a word -of that other who sleeps under the green tangle of -Vaea Mountain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Stevenson and I had been in occasional -communication since about the year 1886, when, -in a small volume of verse issued during the early -part of that year, the fragment of a "Transcript -from the Song of Songs, which is Solomon's," -chanced to attract his attention. He wrote -immediately, with that beautiful natural generosity of -appreciation of his, to ask the author to finish -his translation in verse, and to proceed to other -dramatic passages, some of which, chiefly from -Isaiah and Job, he specified. I remember that -"When the morning stars sang together" was -one of those indicated, and "O, thou afflicted, -tossed with tempest and not comforted," another. -"I have tried my hand at them myself," he added -kindly; "but they were not so good as your -Shulamite."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After this he made me more than once the -channel of his practical charity to certain poor -miner folk, whom disaster had rendered homeless -and penniless on the outskirts of his beloved -Glencorse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A year or two afterwards, having in the intervals -of other work written down certain countryside -stories, which managed to struggle into print in -rather obscure corners, I collected these into a -volume, under the title of "The Stickit Minister -and Some Common Men." Then after the volume -was through the press, in a sudden gulp of -venturesomeness I penned a dedication.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>TO</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>Robert Louis Stevenson</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>OF SCOTLAND AND SAMOA, -<br />I DEDICATE THESE STORIES OF THAT -<br />GREY GALLOWAY LAND -<br />WHERE -<br />ABOUT THE GRAVES OF THE MARTYRS -<br />THE WHAUPS ARE CRYING— -<br />HIS HEART REMEMBERS HOW.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Still much fearing and trembling, how needlessly -I guessed not then, I packed up and despatched -a copy to Samoa. Whereupon, after due interval, -there came back to these shores a letter—the -sense of which reached me deviously—not to -myself but to his friend, Mr. Sidney Colvin. -"If I could only be buried in the hills, under the -heather, and a table tombstone like the martyrs; -'where the whaups and plovers are crying!' Did -you see a man who wrote 'The Stickit Minister,' -and dedicated it to me, in words that brought -the tears to my eyes every time I looked at -them? 'Where about the graves of the martyrs -the whaups are crying—his heart remembers -how.' Ah, by God, it does! Singular that I -should fulfil the Scots destiny throughout, and -live a voluntary exile and have my head filled -with the blessed, beastly place all the time!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To another friend he added some criticism of -the book. "Some of the tales seem to me a trifle -light, and one, at least, is too slender and -fantastic—qualities that rarely mingle well." (How oft in -the stilly night have I wondered which one he -meant!) "But the whole book breathes admirably -of the soil. 'The Stickit Minister,' 'The Heather -Lintie,' are two that appeal to me particularly. -They are drowned in Scotland. They have -refreshed me like a visit home. 'Cleg Kelly' also -is a delightful fellow. I have enjoyed his -acquaintance particularly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Curiously enough, it was not from Samoa, but -from Honolulu, that I first received tidings that -my little volume had not miscarried. It was -quite characteristic of Mr. Stevenson not to -answer at once: "I let my letters accumulate -till I am leaving a place," he said to me more -than once; "then I lock myself in with them, -and my cries of penitence can be heard a mile!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a San Francisco paper there appeared a -report of a speech he had made to some kindly -Scots who entertained him in Honolulu, In it -he spoke affectionately of "The Stickit Minister." I -have, alas! lost the reference now, but at the -time it took me by the throat. I could not get -over the sheer kindness of the thing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came a letter and a poem, both very -precious to me:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you from my heart, and see with what -dull pedantry I have been tempted to extend your -beautiful phrase of prose into three indifferent -stanzas:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Blows the wind on the moors to-day, and now,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>My heart remembers how!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Standing Stones on the vacant, wine-red moor;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Hills of sheep, and the howes of the silent vanished races,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And winds austere and pure!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Be it granted me to behold you again in dying,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Hills of home! and to hear again the call—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Hear about the graves of the martyrs the pee-wees crying,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And hear no more at all."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>To me, in the all too brief days that -remained to him, he wrote letter after letter of -criticism, encouragement, and praise (in which -last, as was his wont, he let his kind heart -run far ahead of his judgment). It goes to -my heart now not to quote from these, for -they are in some wise my poor patent of -nobility. But, perhaps with more wisdom, I -keep them by me, to hearten myself withal -when the days of darkness grow too many and -too dark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So much for bush to this second draught of -countryside vintage—the more easily forgiven that -it tells of the generosity of a dead man whom I -loved. But and if in any fields Elysian or grey -twilight of shades, I chance to meet with Robert -Louis Stevenson, I know that I shall find him in -act to help over some ghostly stile, the halt, the -maimed, and the faint of heart—-even as in these -late earthly years he did for me—and for many -another.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>S. R. CROCKETT.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<ol class="upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#id1">THE STICKIT MINISTER'S WOOING</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-stickit-minister-wins-through">THE STICKIT MINISTER WINS THROUGH</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#gibby-the-eel-student-in-divinity">GIBBY THE EEL, STUDENT IN DIVINITY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#dr-girnigo-s-assistant">DR. GIRNIGO'S ASSISTANT</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-gate-of-the-upper-garden">THE GATE OF THE UPPER GARDEN</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-troubler-of-israel">THE TROUBLER OF ISRAEL</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#carnation-s-morning-joy">CARNATION'S MORNING JOY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#jaimsie">JAIMSIE</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#beadle-and-martyr">BEADLE AND MARTYR</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-blue-eyes-of-ailie">THE BLUE EYES OF AILIE</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#lowe-s-seat">LOWE'S SEAT</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-suit-of-bottle-green">THE SUIT OF BOTTLE GREEN</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-scientific-symposium">A SCIENTIFIC SYMPOSIUM</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-hempie-s-love-story">THE HEMPIE'S LOVE STORY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-little-fair-man">THE LITTLE FAIR MAN</a><span>—</span></p> -</li> -</ol> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#seed-sown-by-the-wayside">SEED SOWN BY THE WAYSIDE</a><span> -<br />II.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-humbling-of-strength-o-airm">THE HUMBLING OF STRENGTH-O'-AIRM</a><span> -<br />III.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-curate-of-kirkchrist">THE CURATE OF KIRKCHRIST</a></p> -<ol class="upperroman simple" start="16"> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#my-father-s-love-story">MY FATHER'S LOVE STORY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-man-of-wrath">THE MAN OF WRATH</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-lass-in-the-shop">THE LASS IN THE SHOP</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-respect-of-drowdle">THE RESPECT OF DROWDLE</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#tadmor-in-the-wilderness">TADMOR IN THE WILDERNESS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#peterson-s-patient">PETERSON'S PATIENT</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#two-humourists">TWO HUMOURISTS</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id1"><span class="bold large">THE STICKIT MINISTER'S WOOING[#]</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] These stories have been edited chiefly from manuscripts -supplied to me by my friend Mr. Alexander McQuhirr, M.D., -of Cairn Edward in Galloway, of whose personal adventures -I treated in the volume called "Lad's Love," I have let -my friend tell his tale in his own way in almost every case.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was in the second year of my college life thai -I came home to find Robert Fraser, whom a -whole country-side called the "Stickit Minister," -distinctly worse, and indeed, set down upon his -great chair in the corner as on a place from -which he would never rise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A dour, grippy back-end it was, the soil -stubborn and untoward with early frost. And a -strange sound it was to hear as I (Alexander -McQuhirr) came down the Lang Brae, the channel -stones droning and dinnelling on the ice by the -third of November; a thing which had not -happened in our parts since that fell year of the -Sixteen Drifty Days, which has been so greatly -talked about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I walked over to the Dullarg the very night -I arrived from Edinburgh. I had a new volume -of Tennyson with me, which I had bought with -the thought that he would be pleased with it. -For I loved Robert Fraser, and I will not deny -that my heart beat with expectation as I went -up the little loaning with the rough stone dyke -upon either side—aye, as if it had been the way -to Nether Neuk, and I going to see my sweetheart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come your ways in, Alec, man," his voice -came from the inner room, as he heard me pause -to exchange banter of a rural sort with the servant -lasses in the kitchen; "I have been waitin' for -ye. I kenned ye wad come the nicht!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I went in. And there by the little peat fire, -drowsing red and looking strangely out of place -behind the ribs of the black-leaded "register" -grate, I saw the Stickit Minister with a black-and-white -check plaid about his knees. He smiled -a strange sweet smile, at once wistful and -distant, as I entered—like one who waves farewell -through a mist of tears as the pier slides back -and the sundering water seethes and widens about -the ship.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are better, Robert!" I said, smiling too. -Dully, and yet with dogged cheerfulness, I said -it, as men lie to the dying—and are not believed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stretched out his thin hand, the ploughman's -horn clean gone from it, and the veins blue and -convex upon the shrunk wrist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ave atque vale</em><span>, Alec, lad!" he answered. -"That is what it has come to with Robert Fraser. -But how are all at Drumquhat? Ye will be on -your road ower to the Nether Neuk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This he said, though he knew different.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have brought you this from Edinburgh," -I said, giving him the little, thin, green volume -of Tennyson. I had cut it to save him trouble, -and written his name on the blank page before -the title.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shall never forget the way he looked at it. -He opened it as a woman unfolds a new and -costly garment, with a lingering caress of the -wasted finger-tips through which I could almost -see the white of the paper, and a slow soft intake -of the breath, like a lover's sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His eyes, of old blue and clear, had now a kind -of glaze over them, a veiling Indian summer mist -through which, however, still shone, all undimmed -and fearless, the light of the simplest and manfulest -spirit I have ever known. He turned the leaves -and read a verse here and there with evident -pleasure. He had a way of reading anything he -loved as it listening inly to the cadences—a little -half-turn of the head aside, and a still contented -smile hovering about the lips, like one who catches -the first returning fall of beloved footsteps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But all at once Robert Fraser shut the book -and let his hands sink wearily down upon his knee. -He did not look at me, but kept his eyes on the -red peat ash in the "register" grate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's bonnie," he murmured softly; "and it was -a kind thing for you to think on me. But it's -gane frae me, Alec—it's a' clean gane. Tak' you -the book, Alec. The birdies will never sing again -in ony spring for me to hear. I'm back upon -the Word, Alec. There's nocht but That for me -noo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laid his hand on a Bible that was open -beside him on the stand which held his medicine -bottles, and a stocking at which his wearied fingers -occasionally knitted for a moment or two at a time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he gave the little green-clad Tennyson -back to me with so motherly and lingering a regard -that, had I not turned away, I declare I know -not but that I had been clean done for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet for a' that, Alec," he said, "do you take -the book for my sake. And see—cut out the -leaf ye hae written on and let me keep it here -beside me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I did as he asked me, and with the leaf in -his hand he turned over the pages of his Bible -carefully, like a minister looking for a text. He -stopped at a yellowing envelope, as if uncertain -whether to deposit the inscription in it. Then he -lifted the stamped oblong and handed it to me -with a kind of smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, Alec," he said, "you that has (so they -tell me) a sweetheart o' your ain, ye will like to -see that. This is the envelope that held the letter -I gat frae Jessie Loudon—the nicht Sir James -telled me at the Infirmary that my days were -numbered!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Robert!" I cried, all ashamed that he -should speak thus to a young man like me, "dinna -think o' that. You will excite yourself—you may -do yourself a hurt——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he waved me away, still smiling that slow -misty smile, in which, strangely enough, there -was yet some of the humoursomeness of one who -sees a situation from the outside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Na, Alec, lad," he said, softly, "that's gane too. -Upon a dark day I made a pact wi' my Maker, and -now the covenanted price is nearly paid. </span><em class="italics">His</em><span> -messenger wi' the discharge is already on the road. -I never hear a hand on the latch, but I look up -to see Him enter—aye, and He shall be welcome, -welcome as the bridegroom that enters into the -Beloved's chamber!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I covered my brows with my palm, and pretended -to look at the handwriting on the envelope, -which was delicate and feminine. The Stickit -Minister went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, Alec," he said, meditatively, with his eyes -still on the red glow, "ye think that ye love the -lass ye hae set your heart on; and doubtless ye -do love her truly. But I pray God that there -may never come a day when ye shall have spoken -the last sundering word, and returned her the -written sheets faithfully every one. Ye hae heard -the story, Alec. I will not hurt your young heart -by telling it again. But I spared Jessie Loudon -all I could, and showed her that she must not mate -her young life with one no better than dead!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Stickit Minister was silent a long time here. -Doubtless old faces looked at him clear out of -the red spaces of the fire. And when he began -to speak again, it was in an altered voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nevertheless, because power was given me, I -pled with, and in some measure comforted her. -For though the lassie's heart was set on me, it -was as a bairn's heart is set, not like the heart -of a woman; and for that I praise the Lord—yes, -I give thanks to His name!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then after that I came back to an empty -house—and this!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He caressed the faded envelope lovingly, as a -miser his intimatest treasure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not mean to keep it, Alec," he went -on presently, "but I am glad I did. It has been -a comfort to me; and through all these years -it has rested there where ye see it—upon the -chapter where God answers Job out of the -whirlwind. Ye ken yon great words."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We heard a slight noise in the yard, the wheels -of some light vehicle driven quickly. The Stickit -Minister started a little, and when I looked at -him again I saw that the red spot, the size of -a crown-piece, which burned so steadfastly on his -check-bone had spread till now it covered his -brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then we listened, breathless, like men that wait -for a marvel, and through the hush the peats on -the grate suddenly fell inward with a startling -sound, bringing my heart into my mouth. Next -we heard a voice without, loud and a little thick, -in heated debate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank God!" cried the Stickit Minister, -fervently. "It's Henry—my dear brother! For -a moment I feared it had been Lawyer Johnston -from Cairn Edward. You know," he added, smiling -with all his old swift gladsomeness, "I am now -but a tenant at will. I sit here in the Dullarg -on sufferance—that once was the laird of acre -and onstead!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He raised his voice to carry through the door -into the kitchen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Henry, Henry, this is kind—kind of you—to -come so far to see me on such a night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Stickit Minister was on his feet by this -time, and if I had thought that his glance had -been warm and motherly for me, it was fairly on -fire with affection now. I believe that Robert -Fraser once loved his betrothed faithfully and well; -but never will I believe that he loved woman -born of woman as he loved his younger brother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And that is, perhaps, why these things fell -out so.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I had not seen Henry Fraser since the first year -he had come to Cairn Edward. A handsome -young man he was then, with a short, supercilious -upper lip, and crisply curling hair of a fair colour -disposed in masses about his brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He entered, and at the first glimpse of him I stood -astonished. His pale student's face had grown -red and a trifle mottled. The lids of his blue eyes -(the blue of his brother's) were injected. His -mouth was loose and restless under a heavy -moustache, and when he began to speak his voice -came from him thick and throaty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder you do not keep your people in -better order, Robert," he said, before he was fairly -within the door of the little sitting-room. "First I -drove right into a farm-cart that had been left -in the middle of the yard, and then nearly broke -my shins over a pail some careless slut of a -byre-lass had thrown down at the kitchen-door."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert Fraser had been standing up with the -glad and eager look on his face. I think he had -half stretched out his hand; but at his brother's -querulous words he sank slowly back into his -chair, and the grey tiredness slipped into his face -almost as quickly as it had disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry, Henry," he said, simply. "Somehow -I do not seem to get about so readily as I did, and -I daresay the lads and lasses take some advantage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They would not take advantage with me, I -can tell you!" cried the young doctor, throwing -down his driving-cape on the corner of the old -sofa, and pulling a chair in to the fire. He bent -forward and chafed his hands before the glowing -peats, and as he did so I could see by a slight -lurch and quick recovery that he had been -drinking. I wondered if Robert Fraser noticed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he leaned back and looked at the Stickit -Minister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Robert, how do you find yourself -to-night? Better, eh?" he said, speaking in his -professional voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His brother's face flushed again with the same -swift pleasure, very pitiful to see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is kind of you to ask," he said; "I think -I do feel a betterness, Henry. The cough has -certainly been less troublesome this last day or -two."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose there are no better prospects about -the property," said Dr. Fraser, passing from the -medical question with no more than the words I -have written down. I had already risen, and, -with a muttered excuse, was passing into the outer -kitchen, that I might leave the brothers alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I did not hear Robert Fraser's reply, but -as I closed the door I caught the younger's loud -retort: "I tell you what it is, Robert—say what -you will—I have not been fairly dealt with in -this matter—I have been swindled!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I went out with my heart heavy within me -for my friend, and though Bell Gregory, the -bonniest of the farm lasses, ostentatiously drew -her skirts aside and left a vacant place beside her -in the ingle-nook, I shook my head and kept -on my way to the door with rib more than a smile -and "Anither nicht, Bell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gie my love to Nance ower at the Nether -Neuk," she cried back, with challenge in her tone, -as I went out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But even Nance Chrystie was not in my thoughts -that night. I stepped out, passing in front of the -straw-thatched bee-hives which, with the indrawing -days, had lost their sour-sweet summer smell, and -so on into the loaning. From the foot of the little -brae I looked back at the lights burning so warmly -and steadily from the low windows of the Dullarg, -and my mind went over all my father had told me -of what the Stickit Minister had done for his -brother: how he had broken off his own college -career that Henry might go through his medical -classes with ease and credit; and how, in spite of -his brother's rank ingratitude, he had bonded his -little property in order to buy him old Dr. Aitkin's -practice in Cairn Edward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Standing thus and thinking under the beeches -at the foot of the dark loaning, it gave me quite a -start to find a figure close beside me. It was -a woman with a shawl over her head, as is the -habit of the cotters' wives in our parish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me," a voice, eager and hurried, panted -almost in my ear, "is Dr. Fraser of Cairn Edward -up there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," I said in reply, involuntarily drawing -back a step—the woman was so near me—"he is -this moment with his brother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then for God's sake will ye gang up and tell -him to come this instant to the Earmark cothouses. -There are twa bairns there that are no like to see -the mornin' licht if he doesna!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But who may you be?" I said, for I did not -want to return to the Dullarg. "And why do you -not go in and tell him for yourself? You can give -him the particulars of the case better than I!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave a little shivering moan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I canna gang in there!" she said, clasping her -hands piteously; "I darena. Not though I am -Gilbert Harbour's wife—and the bairns' mither. -Oh, sir, rin!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I ran.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when I had knocked and delivered my -message, to my great surprise Dr. Henry Fraser -received it very coolly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are only some cotter people," he said, -"they must just wait till I am on my way back -from the village. I will look in then. Robert, it -is a cold night, let me have some whisky before -I get into that ice-box of a gig again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Stickit Minister turned towards the -wall-press where ever since his mother's day the -"guardevin," or little rack of cut-glass decanters, -had stood, always hospitably full but quite -untouched by the master of the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was still standing uncertainly by the door-cheek, -and as Robert Fraser stepped across the little -room I saw him stagger; and rushed forward to -catch him. But ere I could reach him he had -commanded himself, and turned to me with a smile -on his lips. Yet even his brother was struck by -the ashen look on his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down, Robert," he said, "I will help myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But with a great effort the Stickit Minister set -the tall narrow dram-glass on the table and -ceremoniously filled out to his brother the stranger's -"portion," as was once the duty of country -hospitality in Scotland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Doctor interrupted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I say!" he exclaimed, when he saw what -his brother was doing, "for heaven's sake not that -thing—give me a tumbler."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And without further ceremony he went to the -cupboard; then he cried to Bell Gregory to -fetch him some hot water, and mixed himself a -steaming glass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Stickit Minister did not sit down. He -stood up by the mantelpiece all trembling. I -noted particularly that his fingers spilled half the -contents of the dram-glass as he tried to pour -them back into the decanter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, haste ye, Henry!" he said, with a pleading -anxiety in his voice I had never heard there in -any trouble of his own; "take up your drink and -drive as fast as ye can to succour the poor woman's -bairns. It is not for nothing that she would come -here seeking you at this time of night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His brother laughed easily as he reseated himself -and drew the tumbler nearer to his elbow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all you know, Robert," he said; "why, -they come all the way to Cairn Edward after me -if their little finger aches, let alone over here. I -daresay some of the brats have got the mumps, -and the mother saw me as I drove past. No, -indeed—she and they must just wait till I get -through my business at Whinnyliggate!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I ask you, Henry," said his brother eagerly, -"do this for my sake; it is not often that I ask -you anything—nor will I have long time now -wherein to ask!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," grumbled the young doctor, rising and -finishing the toddy as he stood, "I suppose I must, -if you make a point of it. But I will just look -in at Whinnyliggate on my way across. Earmark -is a good two miles on my way home!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Henry," said Robert Fraser, "I -will not forget this kindness to me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a brusque nod Dr. Henry Fraser strode -out through the kitchen, among whose merry -groups his comings and goings always created a -certain hush of awe. In a few minutes more we -could hear the clear clatter of the horse's shod -feet on the hard "macadam" as he turned out -of the soft sandy loaning into the main road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Stickit Minister sank back into his chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank God!" he said, with a quick intake of -breath almost like a sob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked down at him in surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robert, why are you so troubled about this -woman's bairns?" I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not answer for a while, lying fallen in -upon himself in his great armchair of worn horse-hair, -as if the strain had been too great for his weak -body. When he did reply it was in a curiously -far-away voice like a man speaking in a dream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are Jessie Loudon's bairns," he said, "and -a' the comfort she has in life!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I sat down on the hearthrug beside him—a -habit I had when we were alone together. It -was thus that I used to read Homer and Horace -to him in the long winter forenights, and wrangle -for happy hours over a construction or the turning -of a phrase in the translation. So now I simply sat -and was silent, touching his knee lightly with my -shoulder. I knew that in time he would tell me all -he wished me to hear. The old eight-day clock in -the corner (with "</span><em class="italics">John Grey, Kilmaurs, 1791</em><span>" -in italics across the brass face of it), ticked on -interminably through ten minutes, and I heard the -feet of the men come in from suppering the horse, -before Robert said another word. Then he spoke: -"Alec," he said, very quietly—he could hardly say -or do anything otherwise (or rather I thought so -before that night). "I have this on my spirit—it -is heavy like a load. When I broke it to Jessie -Loudon that I could never marry her, as I told you, -I did not tell you that she took it hard and high, -speaking bitter words that are best forgotten. And -then in a week or two she married Gib Barbour, -a good-for-nothing, good-looking young ploughman, -a great don at parish dances—no meet -mate for her. And that I count the heaviest part -of my punishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And since that day I have not passed word -or salutation with Jessie Loudon—that is, with -Jessie Barbour. But on a Sabbath day, just before -I was laid down last year—a bonnie day in -June—I met her as I passed though a bourock fresh -with the gowden broom, and the 'shilfies' and -Jennie Wrens singing on every brier. I had been -lookin' for a sheep that had broken bounds. And -there she sat wi' a youngling on ilka knee. There -passed but ae blink o' the e'en between us—ane -and nae mair. But oh, Alec, as I am a sinful -man—married wife though she was, I kenned that she -loved me, and she kenned that I loved her wi' -the love that has nae ending!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a long pause here, and the clock -struck with a long preparatory </span><em class="italics">g-r-r-r</em><span>, as if it were -clearing its throat in order to apologise for the -coming interruption.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that," said Robert Fraser, "was the reason -why Jessie Loudon would not come up to the -Dullarg this nicht—no, not even for her bairns' -sake!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-stickit-minister-wins-through"><span class="bold large">THE STICKIT MINISTER WINS THROUGH</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Yet Jessie Loudon did come to the Dullarg that -night—and that for her children's sake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Strangely enough, in writing of an evening so -fruitful in incident, I cannot for the life of me -remember what happened during the next two -hours. The lads and lasses came in for the -"Taking of the Book." So much I do recall. -But that was an exercise never omitted on any -pretext in the house of the ex-divinity student. -I remember this also, because after the brief -prelude of the psalm-singing (it was the 103rd), -the Stickit Minister pushed the Bible across to -me, open at the thirty-eighth chapter of Job. The -envelope was still there. Though it was turned -sideways I could see the faintly written address:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">MR. ROBERT FRASER,</em></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">Student in Divinity,</em></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><em class="italics">50, St. Leonard's Street,</em></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">Edinburgh.</em></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Even as I looked I seemed to hear again the -woman's voice in the dark loaning—"I canna -gang in </span><em class="italics">there</em><span>!" And in a lightning flash of -illumination it came to me what the answer to -that letter had meant to Jessie Loudon, and the -knowledge somehow made me older and sadder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then with a shaking voice I read the mighty -words before me: "When the morning stars -sang together and all the sons of God shouted for -joy".... But when I came to the verse which -says: "Have the gates of death been opened unto -thee? Or hast thou seen the doors of the shadow -of death?" I saw the Stickit Minister nod his head -three times very slightly, and a strange subtle -smile came over his face as though he could have -answered: "Yea, Lord, verily I have seen -them—they have been opened to me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as the lads and lasses filed out in a kind -of wondering silence after Robert Fraser had -prayed—not kneeling down, but sitting erect in -his chair and looking out before him with -wide-open eyes—we in the little sitting-room became -conscious of a low knocking, persistent and remote, -somewhere about the house of Dullarg. We could -hear Bell Gregory open and then immediately -close the kitchen door, having evidently found no -one there. The knocking still continued.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe it is somebody at the front door," I -said, turning in that direction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then the Stickit Minister cried out in a -curious excited voice: "Open to them—open, -Alec! Quick, man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And his voice went through me with a kind of -thrill, for I knew not who it was he expected to -enter, whether sheriff's officer or angry creditor—or -as it might be the Angel of the Presence -Himself come to summon his soul to follow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, with quaking heart enough, and -resolving in future to be a more religious man, I -made bold to undo the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The woman I had seen in the lane stood before -me, as it were, projected out of the dense darkness -behind, her shawl fallen back from her face, and -her features all pale and changeful in the flicker of -the candle I had snatched up to take with me into -the little hall. For the front door was only used -on state occasions, as when the parish minister -came to call, and at funerals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has not come—and the bairns are dying! -So I had to come back!" she cried, more hoarsely -and breathlessly than I had ever heard woman -speak. But her eyes fairly blazed and her lips -were parted wide for my answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dr. Fraser left here more than an hour ago," -I stammered. "Has he not been to see the -children?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No—no, I tell you, no. And they are -choking—dying—it is the trouble in the throat. They -will die if he does not come——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I heard a noise behind me, and the next moment -I found myself put aside like a child, and Robert -Fraser stood face to face with her that had been -Jessie Loudon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in," he said. And when she drew back -from him with a kind of shudder, and felt uncertainly -for her shawl, he stepped aside and motioned her -to enter with a certain large and commanding -gesture I had never seen him use before. And as -if accustomed to obey, the woman came slowly -within the lighted room. Even then, however, -she would not sit down, but stood facing us both, -a girl prematurely old, her lips nearly as pale as -her worn cheeks, her blown hair disordered and -wispy about her forehead, and only the dark -and tragic flashing of her splendid eyes telling of -a bygone beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Stickit Minister stood up also, and as he -leaned his hand upon the table, I noticed that he -gently shut the Bible which I had left open, that -the woman's eye might not fall upon the faded -envelope which marked the thirty-eighth of Job.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do I understand you to say," he began, in a -voice clear, resonant, and full, not at all the voice -of a stricken man, "that my brother has not yet -visited your children?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He had not come when I ran out—they are -much worse—dying, I think!" she answered, also -in another voice and another mode of speech—yet -a little stiffly, as if the more correct method had -grown unfamiliar by disuse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For almost the only time in his life I saw a look, -stern and hard, come over the countenance of the -Stickit Minister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go home, Jessie," he said; "I will see that he -is there as fast as horses can bring him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hesitated a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he not here?" she faltered. "Oh, tell me -if he is—I meant to fetch him back. I dare not -go back without him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Stickit Minister went to the door with firm -step, the woman following without question or -argument.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fear not, but go, Jessie," he said; "my brother -is not here, but he will be at the bairns' bedside -almost as soon as you. I promise you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Robin," she stammered, adjusting -the shawl over her head and instantly disappearing -into the darkness. The old sweethearting name -had risen unconsciously to her lips in the hour -of her utmost need. I think neither of them -noticed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now help me on with my coat," said -Robert Fraser, turning to me. "I am going over -to the village."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must not," I cried, taking him by the -arm; "let </span><em class="italics">me</em><span> go—let me put in the pony; I -will be there in ten minutes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no pony now," he said gently and a -little sadly, "I have no need of one. And besides, -the quickest way is across the fields."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was true. The nearest way to the village, -by a great deal, was by a narrow foot-track that -wound across the meadows. But, fearing for his -life, I still tried to prevent him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will be your death!" I said, endeavouring -to keep him back. "Let me go alone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If Henry is where I fear he is," he answered, -calmly, "he would not stir for you. But he will -for me. And besides, I have passed my word -to—to Jessie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The details of that terrible night journey I will -not enter upon. It is sufficient to say that I bade -him lean on me, and go slowly, but do what I -would I could not keep him back. Indeed, he -went faster than I could accompany him—for, -in order to support him a little, I had to walk -unevenly along the ragged edges of the little -field-path. All was dark gray above, beneath, and to -the right of us. Only on the left hand a rough -whinstone dyke stood up solidly black against the -monotone of the sky. The wind came in cold -swirls, with now and then a fleck of snow that -stung the face like hail. I had insisted on the -Stickit Minister taking his plaid about him in -addition to his overcoat, and the ends of it flicking -into my eyes increased the difficulty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have hardly ever been so thankful in my life, -as when at last I saw the lights of the village -gleam across the little bridge, as we emerged -from the water-meadows and felt our feet firm -themselves on the turnpike road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From that point the Stickit Minister went faster -than ever. Indeed, he rushed forward, in spite -of my restraining arm, with some remaining -flicker of the vigour which in youth had made -him first on the hillside at the fox-hunt and first -on the haystacks upon the great day of the -inbringing of the winter's fodder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed hardly a moment before we were at -the door of the inn—the Red Lion the name of it, -at that time in the possession of one "Jeems" -Carter. Yes, Henry Fraser was there. His horse -was tethered to an iron ring which was fixed in -the whitewashed wall, and his voice could be heard -at that very moment leading a rollicking chorus. -Then I remembered. It was a "Cronies'" night. -This was a kind of informal club recruited from -the more jovial of the younger horsebreeding -farmers of the neighbourhood. It included the -local "vet.," a bonnet laird or two grown lonesome -and thirsty by prolonged residence upon the edges -of the hills, and was on all occasions proud and -glad to welcome a guest so distinguished and -popular as the young doctor of Cairn Edward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Loose the beast and be ready to hand me the -reins when I come out!" commanded the Stickit -Minister, squaring his stooped shoulders like the -leader of a forlorn hope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So thus it happened that I did not see with my -own eyes what happened when Robert Fraser -opened the door of the "Cronies'" club-room. -But I have heard it so often recounted that I -know as well as if I had seen. It was the Laird -of Butterhole who told me, and he always said -that it made a sober man of him from that day -forth. It was (he said) like Lazarus looking out -of the sepulchre after they had rolled away the -stone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly in the midst of their jovial chorus -some one said "</span><em class="italics">Hush</em><span>!"—some one of themselves—and -instinctively all turned towards the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And lo! there in the doorway, framed in the -outer dark, his broad blue bonnet in his hand, his -checked plaid waving back from his shoulders, -stood a man, pale as if he had come to them -up through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. -With a hand white as bone, he beckoned to his -brother, who stood with his hands on the table -smiling and swaying a little with tipsy gravity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Robert, what are you doing here——?" -he was beginning. But the Stickit Minister -broke in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come!" he said, sternly and coldly, "the -children you have neglected are dying—if they -die through your carelessness you will be their -murderer!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And to the surprise of all, the tall and florid -younger brother quailed before the eye of this -austere shade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I will come, Robert—I was coming in a -moment anyway!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so the Stickit Minister led him out. -There was no great merriment after that in the -"Cronies'" club that night. The members conferred -chiefly in whispers, and presently emptying -their glasses, they stole away home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But no mortal knows what Robert Fraser said -to his brother during that drive—something -mightily sobering at all events. For when the -two reached the small cluster of cothouses lying -under the lee of Earmark wood, the young man, -though not trusting himself to articulate speech, -and somewhat over-tremulous of hand, was yet -in other respects completely master of himself. -I was not present at the arrival, just as I had -not seen the startling apparition which broke up -the "Cronies'" club. The doctor's gig held only -two, and as soon as I handed Robert Fraser the -reins, the beast sprang forward. But I was limber -and a good runner in those days, and though -the gray did his best I was not far behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is no ceremony at such a house in time -of sickness. The door stood open to the wall. A -bright light streamed through and revealed the -inequalities of the little apron of causewayed -cobblestones. I entered and saw Henry Fraser -bending over a bed on which a bairn was lying. -Robert held a candle at his elbow. The mother -paced restlessly to and fro with another child in -her arms. I could see the doctor touch again -and again the back of the little girl's throat with -a brush which he continually replenished from a -phial in his left hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Upon the other side of the hearthstone from the -child's bed a strong country lout sat, sullenly -"becking" his darned stocking feet at the clear -embers of the fire. Then the mother laid the first -child on the opposite bed, and turned to where -the doctor was still operating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly Henry Fraser stood erect. There was -not a trace of dissipation about him now. The -tradition of his guild was as a mantle of dignity -about him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is all right," he said as he took his brother's -hand in a long clasp. "Thank you, Robert, thank -you a thousand times—that you brought me -here in time!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay, rather, thank God!" said Robert Fraser, -solemnly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And even as he stood there the Stickit Minister -swayed sidelong, but the next moment he had -recovered himself with a hand on the bed-post. -Then very swiftly he drew a handkerchief from -his pocket and set it to his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His brother and I went towards him with a quick -apprehension. But the Stickit Minister turned -from us both to the woman, who took two swift -steps towards him with her arms outstretched, and -such a yearning of love on her face as I never -saw before or since. The sullen lout by the fire, -drowsed on unheeding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Jessie!</em><span>" cried the Stickit Minister, and with -that fell into her arms. She held him there a long -moment as it had been jealously, her head bent -down upon his. Then she delivered him up to -me, slowly and reluctantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henry Fraser put his hand on his heart and -gave a great sob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My brother is dead!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Jessie Loudon did not utter a word.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="gibby-the-eel-student-in-divinity"><span class="bold large">GIBBY THE EEL, STUDENT IN DIVINITY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Naturalists have often remarked how little -resemblance there is between the young of certain -animals and the adult specimen. Yonder tottering -quadrangular arrangement of chewed string, -remotely and inadequately connected at the upper -corners, is certainly the young of the horse. But -it does not even remotely suggest the war-horse -sniffing up the battle from afar. This irregular -yellow ball of feathers, with the steel-blue mask set -beneath its half-opened eyelids, is most ridiculously -unlike the magnificent eagle, which (in books) stares -unblinded into the very eye of the noonday sun.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In like manner the young of the learned -professions are by no means like the full-fledged -expert of the mysteries. If in such cases the -child is the father of the man, the parentage is -by no means apparent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To how many medical students would you -willingly entrust the application of one square inch -of sticking-plaster to a cut finger, or the care of a -half-guinea umbrella? What surgeon would you -not, in an emergency, trust with all you hold dear? -You may cherish preferences and even prejudices, -but as a whole the repute of the profession is -above cavil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is, perhaps, more continuity above the -legal profession, but even there it is a notable fact -that the older and more successful a lawyer is, -the more modest you find him, and the more -diffident of his own infallibility. Indeed, several -of the most eminent judges are in this matter -quite as other men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But of all others, the divinity student is perhaps -the most misunderstood. He is wilfully -misrepresented by those who ought to know him best. -Nay, he misrepresents himself, and when he doffs -tweeds and takes to collars which fasten behind and -a long-skirted clerical coat, he is apt to disown his -past self; and often succeeds in persuading himself -that as he is now, diligent, sedate, zealous of good -works, so was he ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only sometimes, when he has got his Sunday -sermons off his mind and two or three of the -augurs are gathered together, will the adult clerk -in holy orders venture to lift the veil and chew -the cud of ancient jest and prank not wholly -sanctified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now there ought to be room, in a gallery which -contains so many portraits of ministers, for one -or two Students of Divinity, faithfully portrayed.[#]</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>[#] These studies I wrote down during certain winters, -when, to please my mother, I made a futile attempt to -prepare myself "to wag my head in a pulpit." Saving a -certain prolixity of statement (which the ill-affected call -long-windedness), they were all I carried away with me when I -resolved to devote myself to the medical profession.—A. McQ.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And of these the first and chief is Mr. Gilbert -Denholm, Master of Arts, Scholar in Theology—to -his class-fellows more colloquially and generally -known as "Gibby the Eel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At college we all loved Gilbert. He was a -merry-hearted youth, and his mere bodily presence -was enough to make glad the countenances of his -friends. His father was a minister in the West -with a large family to bring up, which he effected -with success upon a stipend of surprising tenuity. -So it behoved Gilbert to keep himself at college -by means of scholarships and private tuition. His -pupils had a lively time of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet his only fault obvious to the world was -a certain light-headed but winsome gaiety, and a -tendency to jokes of the practical kind. I used -often to restrain Gilbert's ardour by telling him -that if he did not behave himself and walk more -seemly, he would get his bursary taken from him -by the Senatus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This would recall Gilbert to himself when almost -everything else had failed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Part of Gilbert's personal equipment was the -certain lithe slimness of figure which gained him -the title of "Gibby the Eel," and enabled him to -practise many amusing pranks in the class-room. -He would have made an exceptionally fine burglar, -for few holes were too small and no window too -secure for Gilbert to make his exits and entrances -by. Without going so far as to say that he could -wriggle himself through an ordinary keyhole, I -will affirm that if anybody ever could, that person -was Gilbert Denholm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One of the most ordinary of his habits was that -of wandering here and there throughout the -classroom during the hour of lecture, presuming upon -the professor's purblindness or lack of attention. -You would be sitting calmly writing a letter, -drawing caricatures in your note-book, or -otherwise improving your mind with the most laudable -imitation of attention, when suddenly, out of the -black and dusty depths about your feet would -arise the startling apparition of Gibby the Eel. -He would nod, casually inquire how you found -yourself this morning, and inform you that he only -dropped in on his way up to Bench Seventeen -to see Balhaldie, who owed him a shilling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, so long!" Again he would nod -pleasantly, and sink into the unknown abyss -beneath the benches as noiselessly and -unobtrusively as a smile fades from a face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sometimes, however, when in wanton mood, his -progress Balhaldie-wards could be guessed at by -the chain of "</span><em class="italics">Ouchs</em><span>" and "</span><em class="italics">Ohs</em><span>" which indicated -his subterranean career. The suddenness with -which Gilbert could awaken to lively interest the -most somnolent and indifferent student, by means -of a long brass pin in the calf of the leg, had -to be felt to be appreciated. Thereupon ensued -the sound of vigorous kicking, but generally by -the time the injured got the range of his unseen -foe, Gilbert could be observed two or three forms -above intently studying a Greek Testament wrong -side up, and looking the picture of meek -reproachful innocence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In no class could Gilbert use so much freedom -of errancy as in that of the venerable Professor -Galbraith. Every afternoon this fine old gentleman -undertook to direct our studies in New Testament -exegesis, and incidentally afforded his students an -hour of undisturbed repose after the more exciting -labours of the day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No one who ever studied under Dr. Simeon -Galbraith will forget that gentle droning voice -overhead, that full-orbed moon-like countenance, -over which two smaller moons of beamy spectacle -seemed to be in perpetual transit, and in especial -he will remember that blessed word "Hermeneutics," -of which (it is said) there was once one -student who could remember the meaning. He -died young, much respected by all who knew him. -Dreamily the great word came to you, soothing -and grateful as mother's lullaby, recurrent as the -wash of a quiet sea upon a beach of softest sand. -"Gentlemen, I will now proceed to call your -attention ... to the study of Hermeneutics -... Hermeneut ... Gegenbauer has affirmed -... but in my opeenion, gentlemen -... Hermeneutics...!" (Here you passed from the -subconscious state into Nirvana.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so on, and so on, till the college bell clanged -in the quadrangle, and it was time to file out for -a wash and brush-up before dinner in hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Upon one afternoon every week, Professor -Galbraith read with his students the "Greek -Oreeginal." He prescribed half-a-dozen chapters -of "Romans" or "Hebrews," and expected us to -prepare them carefully. I verily believe that he -imagined we did. This shows what a sanguine -and amiable old gentlemen he was. The beamy -spectacle belied him not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fact was that we stumbled through our -portions by the light of nature, aided considerably -by a class copy of an ingenious work known by -the name of "Bagster," in which every Greek word -had the English equivalent marked in plain figures -underneath, and all the verbs fully parsed at the -foot of the page.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The use of this was not considered wicked, -because, like the early Christians, in Professor -Galbraith's class we had all things common. -This was our one point of resemblance to the -primitive Church.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One day the Doctor, peering over his brown -leather folio, discerned the meek face and beaming -smile of Gilbert the Eel in the centre of Bench -One, immediately beneath him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Mr. Denholm, will you read for us this -morning—beginning at the 29th verse—of the -chapter under consideration?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he subsided expectantly into his lecture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up rose Gilbert, signalling wildly with one hand -for the class "Bagster" to be passed to him, and -meantime grasping at the first Testament he could -see about him. By the time he had read the -Greek of half-a-dozen verses, the sharpness of -the trouble was overpast. He held in his hands -the Key of Knowledge, and translated and parsed -like a Cunningham Fellow—or any other fellow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vairy well, Mr. Denholm; vairy well indeed. -You may now sit down while I proceed to expound -the passage!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whereupon Gibby the Eel ungratefully pitched -the faithful "Bagster" on the bench and -disappeared under the same himself on a visit to -Nicholson McFeat, who sat in the middle of the -class-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For five minutes—ten—fifteen, the gentle voice -droned on from the rostrum, the word "Hermeneutics" -discharging itself at intervals with the -pleasing gurgle of an intermittent spring. Then -the Professor returned suddenly to his Greek -Testament.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Denholm, you construed </span><em class="italics">vairy</em><span> well last -time. Be good enough to continue at the place -you left off. Mr. Denholm—where is -Mister—Mister Den—holm?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the moon-like countenance rose from its -eclipse behind six volumes of Owen (folio edition), -while the two smaller moons in permanent transit -directed themselves upon the vacant place in -Bench One, from which Gibby the Eel had construed -so glibly with the efficient aid of "Bagster."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mister—Mist—er Denholm?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Professor knew that he was absent-minded, -but (if the expression be allowable) he could have -sworn——.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am here, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibby the Eel, a little shame-faced and rumpled -as to hair, was standing plump in the very middle -of the class-room, in the place where he had been -endeavouring to persuade Nick McFeat to lend -him his dress clothes "to go to a conversazione -in," which request Nick cruelly persisted in refusing, -alleging first, that he needed the garments himself, -and secondly, that the Eel desired to go to no -"conversazione," but contrariwise to take a certain -Madge Robertson to the theatre.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment the fateful voice of the Professor -broke in upon them just as they were rising to -the height of their great argument.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mister—Den—holm, will you go on where -you left off?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibby rose, signalling wildly for "Bagster," and -endeavouring to look as if he had been a plant -of grace rooted and grounded on that very spot. -Professor Galbraith gazed at Gibby </span><em class="italics">in situ</em><span>, then at -the place formerly occupied by him, tried hard -to orient the matter in his head, gave it up, and -bade the translation proceed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But "Bagster" came not, and Gilbert did not -distinguish himself this time. Indeed, far from it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you parse the first verb, Mr. Denholm—no, -not that word! That has usually been -considered a substantive, Mr. Denholm—the next -word, ah, yes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The first aorist, active of—</span><em class="italics">confound you fellows, -where's that 'Bagster'? I call it dashed mean—*yes, -sir, it is connected with the former clause by -the particle—*have you not found that book yet? -Oh, you beasts!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>(The italics, it is hardly necessary to say, were -also spoken in italics, and were not an integral -part of Gibby's examination as it reached the ear -of Professor Galbraith.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, that will do, Mr. Denholm—not so well—not -quite so well, sir—yet" (kindly) "not so vairy -ill either."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Gilbert sat down to resume the discussion -of the dress clothes. By this time, of course, he -considered himself quite safe from further molestation. -The Professor had never been known to call -up a man thrice in one day. So, finding Nick -McFeat obdurate in the matter of the dress suit, -Gilbert announced his intention of visiting Kenneth -Kennedy, who, he said pointedly, was not a selfish -and unclean animal of the kind abhorred by Jews, -but, contrariwise, a gentleman—one who would -lend dress clothes for the asking. And Kennedy's -were better clothes, any way, and had silk linings. -Furthermore, Nick need not think it, he (Mr. Gilbert -Denholm) would not demean himself to put -on his (Mr. McFeat's) dirty "blacks," which had -been feloniously filched from a last year's -scarecrow that had been left out all the winter. And -furthermore, he (the said Gilbert) would take Madge -Robertson to the theatre in spite of him, and what -was more, cut Nick McFeat out as clean as a leek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this the latter laughed scornfully, affirming -that the grapes had a faintly sub-acid flavour, -and bade Gibby go his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibby went, tortuously and subterraneously -worming his way to the highest seats in the -synagogue, where Kenneth Kennedy, M.A., reposed at -full length upon a vacant seat, having artistically -bent a Highland cloak over a walking-stick to -represent scholastic meditation, if perchance the -kindly spectacle of the Professor should turn in his -direction. Gibby gazed rapturously on his friend's -sleep, contemplating him, as once in the Latmian -cave Diana gazed upon Endymion. He was -proceeding to ink his friend's face preparatory to -upsetting him on the floor, when he remembered -the dress suit just in time to desist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eel, you are a most infamous pest—can't you -let a fellow alone? What in the world do you -want now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whereupon, with countenance of triple brass, -Gibby entered into the question of the dress suit -with subtlety and tact. There never was so good -a chap as Kennedy, never one so generous. He -(G.D.) would do as much for him again, and -he would bring it back the next day, pressed by -a tailor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kennedy, however, was not quite so enthusiastic. -There are several points of view in matters of -this kind. Kenneth Kennedy did not, of course, -care "a dump" about Madge Robertson, but he -had the best interests of his silk-lined dress coat -at heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all very well, Eel," he said, raising -himself reluctantly to the perpendicular; "but you -know as well as I do that the last time I lent -it to you, you let some wax drop on the waistcoat, -right on the pocket, and I have never been -able to get it out since——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the pair became conscious that the -gentle hum of exegetical divinity from the rostrum -had ceased. The word "Hermeneutics" no longer -soothed and punctuated their converse at intervals -of five minutes, like the look-out's "All's well" -on a ship at sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Mis—ter Den—holm, perhaps you have -recovered yourself by this time. Be good enough -to continue where you left off—Mis—ter -Den—holm—Mister Denholm—where in the world is -Mr. Denholm?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The spectacles were hardly beaming now. A -certain shrewd suspicion mixed with the wonder in -their expression, as Dr. Galbraith gazed from the -Eel's position One to position Two, and back -again to position One. Both were empty as the -cloudless empyrean. His wonder culminated when -Gilbert was finally discovered in position Three, -high on the sky-line of Bench Twenty-four!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How Gilbert acquitted himself on this occasion -it is perhaps better not to relate. I will draw a -kindly veil over the lamentable tragedy. It is -sufficient to say that he lost his head completely—as -completely even as the aforesaid Miss Madge -Robertson could have wished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And all though the disastrous exhibition the -Professor did not withdraw his gaze from the -wretched Eel, but continued to rebuke him, as -it seemed, for the astral and insubstantial nature -of his body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No better proof can be adduced that the Eel -had become temporarily deranged, than the fact -that even now, when it was obvious that the long -latent suspicions of the Gentle Hermeneut were -at last aroused, he refused to abide in his breaches; -but, scorning all entreaty, and even Kennedy's -unconditioned promise of the dress suit, he proceeded -to crawl down the gallery steps, in order to regain -position Number One, in the front seat under the -Professor's very nose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Quos Deus vult perdere, prius dementat.</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile the class, at first raised to a state of -ecstatic enjoyment by the Eel's misfortunes, then -growing a little anxious lest he should go too far, -was again subsiding to its wonted peaceful hum, -like that of a vast and well-contented bumble-bee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly we became aware that the Professor -was on his feet in the midst of a stern and -awful silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My eye has fallen," he began solemnly, "on -what I do not expect to see. I hope the—gentleman -will remember where he is—and who I am!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the pronouncement of this awful -allocution the professorial arm was extended, and a -finger, steady as the finger of Fate, pointed directly -at the unhappy Gibby, who, prone in the dust, -appeared to be meditating a discourse upon the -text, "I am a worm and no man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His head was almost on the level of the floor -and his limbs extended far up the gallery stairs. -To say that his face was fiery-red gives but a faint -idea of its colour, while a black streak upon his -nose proved that the charwomen of the college -were not a whit more diligent than the students -thereof.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What happened after this is a kind of maze. I -suppose that Gibby regained a seat somewhere, -and that the lecture proceeded after a fashion; -but I do not know for certain. Bursts of unholy -mirth forced their way through the best linen -handkerchiefs, rolled hard and used as gags.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there grew up a feeling among many that -though doubtless there was humour in the case, the -Eel had gone a little too far, and if Professor -Galbraith were genuinely angered he might bring -the matter before the Senatus, with the result -that Gilbert would not only lose his bursary, but -be sent down as well, to his father's sorrow and -his own loss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So when the class was at last over, half-a-dozen -of us gathered round Gibby and represented to -him that he must go at once to the retiring-room -and ask the Professor's pardon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At first and for long the Eel was recalcitrant. -He would not go. What was he to say? We -instructed him. We used argument, appeal, -persuasion. We threatened torture. Finally, yielding -to those heavier battalions on the side of which -Providence is said to fight, Gibby was led to the -door with a captor at each elbow. We knocked; -he entered. The door was shut behind him, but -not wholly. Half-a-dozen ears lined the crack at -intervals, like limpets clinging to a smooth streak -on a tidal rock. We could not hear the Eel's -words. Only a vague murmur reached us, and I -doubt if much more reached Professor Galbraith. -The Eel stopped and there was a pause. We -feared its ill omen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor Eel, the old man's going to report him!" -we whispered to each other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then we heard the words of the Angelical -Scholiast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shake hands, Mr. Denholm. If, as ye say, this -has been a lesson to you, it has been no less a -lesson to me. Let us both endeavour to profit by -it, unto greater diligence and seemliness in our -walk and conversation. We will say no more -about the matter, if you please, Mr. Denholm."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We cheered the old man as he went out, till he -waved a kindly and tolerant hand back at us, and -there was more than a gleam of humour in the -kindly spectacles, as if our gentle Hermeneut were -neither so blind nor yet so dull in the uptake as -we had been accustomed to think him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for the Eel, he became a man from that day, -and, to a limited extent, put away childish -things—though his heart will remain ever young and -fresh. His story is another story, and so far as -this little study goes it is enough to say that when -at last the aged Professor of Hermeneutics passed -to the region where all things are to be finally -explicated, it was Gilbert Denholm who got up the -memorial to his memory, which was subscribed to -by every student without exception he had ever -had. And it was he who wrote Dr. Galbraith's -epitaph, of which the last line runs:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"GENTLE, A PEACE-MAKER, A LOVER OF -GOOD AND OF GOD."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="dr-girnigo-s-assistant"><span class="bold large">DOCTOR GIRNIGO'S ASSISTANT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Off, ye lendings!" said Gibby the Eel to his -heather-mixture knicker-bocker suit, on the day -when his Presbytery of Muirlands licensed him -to preach the gospel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And within the self-same hour the Reverend -Gilbert Denholm, M.A., Probationer, in correct -ministerial garb, had the honour of dining with the -Presbytery, and of witnessing the remarkable -transformation which overtakes that august body -as soon as it dips its collective spoon in the -official soup.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew a Presbytery once which tried to lunch -on cold coffee and new bread. The survivors -unanimously took to drink.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Presbytery of Muirlands were sage -fathers and brethren, and they knew better than -that. They dined together in a reasonable manner -at the principal inn of the place. An enthusiast, -who suggested that they should transfer their -custom to the new Temperance Hotel up near the -railway station, was asked if he had sent in his -returns on Life and Work—and otherwise severely -dealt with.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gilbert had been remitted to the Presbytery -of Muirlands from his own West Country one of -Burnestown, because he had been appointed -assistant to the Reverend Doctor Girnigo of -Rescobie; and it was considered more satisfactory -that the Presbytery within whose bounds he was -to labour, should examine him concerning his -diligence and zeal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they asked him all the old posers which -had made the teeth of former examinees of the -Presbytery of Muirlands chatter in their heads. -But the Eel's teeth did not chatter. He had got -a rough list from a friend who had been that way -before, and so passed the bar with flying colours. -The modest way in which the new brother (unattached) -behaved himself at dinner completed -Gibby's conquest of the Brethren—with the single -but somewhat important exception of the Reverend -Doctor Joseph Girnigo of Rescobie, Gilbert's future -chief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the cross of Dr. Girnigo's life that his -session compelled him to engage an assistant. -Dr. Girnigo felt that here were three hundred -pieces of silver (or more accurately, £60 sterling) -which ought to have been given to the poor—that is, -to the right breeches' pocket of Joseph Girnigo—instead -of being squandered in providing such a thorn -in the flesh within the parish as a licensed assistant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Girnigo was in the habit of saying, whenever -he had made it too hot for his acting assistant, -that he would rather look after three parishes than -one probationer. At first the engaging and -dismission of these unfortunate young men had been -placed unreservedly in the Doctor's hands; but as -the affair assumed more and more the appearance -and proportions of a mere procession to and from -the railway station, the members of Session were -compelled to assume the responsibility themselves. -So long as the Doctor's sway continued -unchallenged, the new assistant usually arrived in -Nether Balhaldie's "machine" on Saturday night, -and departed on Tuesday morning very early in the -gig belonging to Upper Balhaldie. He preached -on Sabbath, and Monday was spent in Dr. Girnigo's -study, where it was explained to him: first, that -he knew nothing; secondly, that what he thought -he knew was worse than nothing; thirdly, that -there is nothing more hateful than a vain pretence -of earthly learning; and fourthly, that Paul and -Silas knew nothing of "Creeticism." No, they -were better employed—aye, and it would be telling -the young men of the day—the conclusion of the -whole matter being that the present victim would -never do at all for the parish of Rescobie and had -better go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went, in Upper Balhaldie's gig, and Watty -Learmont, the tenant thereof, who could be -trusted to know, said that the rejected probationers -very seldom engaged in prayer (to call prayer) on -the road to the station. I do not know what -Watty meant to insinuate, but that is what he -said. He had that mode of speech to perfection -which consists in saying one thing and giving the -impression that the speaker means another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was felt that this was a state of affairs -which could not continue. It amounted, indeed, to -nothing less than a scandal that the Session should -be paying £60 for an assistant, and that at the end -of the year eight of these should only have spent -exactly twenty-seven days in the parish, while the -remaining three hundred and thirty-eight days had -been occupied by the Doctor in filling the vacancies -he had himself created. Besides, since he always -insisted on a week's trial without salary when he -engaged his man (in order, as he said, to discover -where there was a likelihood of the parties being -mutually satisfied), the shrewd business men of the -Session saw more than a probability of their good -and hardly gathered sixty "notes" still remaining -intact in the possession of their minister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was, however, the affair of the prayer-meeting -which brought the matter to a head. For after all, -such hard-headed bargain-makers as Learmont, -Senior of Balhaldie, and his coadjutors on the -Session, could not help having a sort of respect -for the Doctor's business qualities. But they -could not bear to be made a laughing stock of in -the market of Drumfern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's this I hear aboot your new helper's -prayer-meetin' up at Rescobie?" Cochrane of -Tatierigs cried one Wednesday across the mart -ring to Upper Balhaldie. "Is't true that that -minister o' yours broke it up wi' a horse-whup?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No, it was not true. But there was enough of -truth in it to make the members of Rescobie -Session nervous of public appearances for a long -time, indeed till the affair was forgotten.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The truth was that during the Doctor's absence -at the house of his married son in Drumfern, -Mr. Killigrew, a soft-voiced young man, who, being -exceedingly meek, had been left in charge of the -parish, thought it would be a surprise for his chief -if he started a prayer-meeting on Wednesday -evenings in the village schoolhouse. He pictured -to himself his principal's delight when he should -hand over the new departure as a going concern. -So he made a house-to-house visitation of Rescobie -village and neighbourhood, this young man with -the soft voice. The popular appeal was favourable. -He went round and saw the school-mistress. -She was fond of young men with soft voices -(and hats). She readily consented to lend her -harmonium, and to lead the singing from a -certain popular hymn-book.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first meeting was an unqualified success, -and the young man promptly began a series of -rousing addresses on the "Pilgrim's Progress." There -were to be thirty in all. But alas, for the -vanity of human schemes, the second address (on -the Slough of Despond) was scarcely under weigh -when, like an avenging host, or Cromwell entering -the Long Parliament, the Doctor strode into the -midst, booted and spurred, as he had ridden over -all the way from Drumfern. He had a riding-whip -in his hand, which was the foundation of -the Tatierigs story, but there is no record that -he used it on any in the meeting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The services closed without the benediction, and -as the Doctor wrath fully clicked the key in the -lock, he said that he would see the school-mistress -in the morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he turned to the young man in the soft -hat. The remains left Rescobie early next -morning in Upper Balhaldie's gig.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Since this date it was enough to call out to -a Rescobie man, "Ony mair Pilgrims up your -way?" in order to have him set his dogs on you or -wrathfully bring down his herd's crook upon -your crown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Being thus stirred to action, the Session wrestled -with Dr. Girnigo, and prevailing by the unanswerable -argument of the purse-strings, it took the -appointment and dismission of the "helpers" into -its own hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Dr. Girnigo had to try other tactics. Usually -he gave the unfortunate "helper" delivered into -his hands no peace night nor day, till in despair -he threw up his appointment, and shook the -Rescobie dust off the soles of his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>First (under the new regime) came Alexander -Fairbody, a thoughtful, studious lad, whom the -Doctor set to digging top-dressing into his garden -till his hands were blistered. He would not allow -him to preach, and as to praying, if he wanted -to do that he could go to his bedroom. So -Mr. Fairbody endured hardness for ten days, and -then resigned in a written communication, alleging -as a reason that he had come to Rescobie as to -work in a spiritual and not in a material vineyard. -The Doctor burked the document, and the Reverend -Robert Begg reigned in the stead of Alexander -Fairbody, resigned for cause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Begg was athletic. Him Dr. Girnigo set -to the work of arranging his old sermons, seven -barrels full. He was to catalogue them under -eighteen heads, and be prepared to give his reasons -in every case. The first three classes were—"Sermons -Enforcing the Duty of Respect for -Ecclesiastical Superiors," "Sermons upon Christian -Giving," and "Sermons Inculcating Humility in -the Young." The Reverend Robert Begg would -have enjoyed the digging of the garden. He -stood just one full week of the sermon-arranging. -He declared that sixteen of the eighteen classes -were cross divisions, and that the task of looking -through the written matter permanently enfeebled -his intellect. Sympathetic friends consoled him -with the reflection that nobody would ever find -out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the second Wednesday after his appointment -he departed, uttering sentiments which were a -perfect guarantee of good faith (but which were -manifestly not for publication) to Watty Learmont -as he journeyed to the railway station in the -Upper Balhaldie gig.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A new sun rose upon Rescobie with the coming -of Gibby the Eel. He had known both of his -predecessors at college, and he had pumped them -thoroughly upon the life and doctrine of their -former chief. In addition to which Gilbert had -taken to him a suit of tweeds and a fishing-rod, -and with a piece of bread and cheese in his pocket, -and guile in his heart, he had gone up the Rescobie -water, asking for drinks at the farmhouses on the -way, much as he used to perambulate Professor -Galbraith's class-room in his old, abandoned, -unregenerate, sans-dog-collar days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hitherto the helper, a mere transient bird-of-passage, -had lodged with Mistress Honeytongue, -the wife of Hosea Honeytongue, the beadle and -minister's man of Rescobie. This brought the -youth, as it were, under the shadow of the manse, -and what was more to the point, under the -eye of the minister. But Gilbert Denholm had -other aims.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took rooms in the village, quite -three-quarters of a mile from the manse, with one -Mrs. Tennant, the widow of a medical man in -the neighbourhood who had died without making -adequate provision for his family. She had never -taken a lodger before, but since his investiture in -clericals the Eel had filled out to a handsome -figure, and he certainly smiled a most irresistible -smile as he stood on the doorstep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gilbert arrived late one Friday night in -Rescobie, and speculation was rife in the parish -as to whether he would preach on Sabbath or -not. Most were of the negative opinion, but -Watty Learmont, for reasons of his own, offered -to wager a new hat that he would.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On Saturday morning Gilbert put on his longest -tails and his doggiest collar and marched boldly -up to the front door of the manse, with the general -air of playing himself along the road upon war -pipes. Perhaps, however, he was only whistling -silently to keep his courage up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Miss Girnigo at home?" said he to the -somewhat stern-visaged personage who opened -the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> am Miss Girnigo," said a sepulchral voice. -(Miss Girnigo was suffering from the summer cold -which used to be called a "hay fever.")</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed—I might have known; how delightful!" -said the Eel, now, alas! transformed into an old -serpent; "I am so glad to find you at home!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am always at home!" returned Miss Girnigo, -keeping up a semblance of severity, but secretly -mollified by the homage of Gibby's smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I hope you will let me come here very -often. I shall find it lonely in the village, but I -thought it better to be near my work," said -Gilbert; "I am staying with Mrs. Tennant, the -doctor's widow. Do you know Mrs. Tennant?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," said Miss Girnigo, smiling for the -first time; "she is one of my dearest friends. I -often go there to tea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I love tea," said Gilbert, with enthusiasm; -"Mrs. Tennant has invited me to take tea in her parlour -in the afternoon as often as I like, but I was -not expecting such a reward as this!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Girnigo was considerably over forty, but -she was even more than youthfully amenable to -flattery and to the Eel's beaming and boyish face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are the new assistant," she said, "Mister—ah——!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Denholm!" said Gilbert, smiling; "it is a -nice name. Don't you think so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have not thought anything about the matter," -said Miss Girnigo, bridling, yet with the ghost of -a blush. "I do not charge my mind with such -things. Have you come to see my father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, after a while. But just at present I -would rather see your plants!" said the Serpent, -who had been well coached. (No wonder Watty -Learmont smiled when he asserted that the New -Man would preach on Sunday.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now Miss Girnigo lived chiefly for her flowers. -The Serpent had a list of them, roughly but -accurately compiled from the lady's seed-merchant's -ledger by a friend in the business. He had also -a fund of information respecting "plants," very -recently acquired, on his mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you know I was fond of flowers?" -asked Miss Girnigo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Could any one doubt it?" cried Gilbert, with -enthusiasm. "Who was the Jo——" (he was on the -brink of saying "Johnny") "g—gentleman of whom -it was said: 'If you want to see his monument, -look around'—Sir Christopher Wren, wasn't it? -Well, I looked around as I came up the street!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Gilbert took in the whole front of the -manse with his glance. It certainly was very -pretty, covered from top to bottom with rambler -roses and Virginia cress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gilbert entered, and as they passed in front of -the minister's study door Miss Girnigo almost -skittishly made a sign for silence, and Gilbert -tip-toed past with an exaggeration of caution -which made his companion laugh. They found -themselves presently in the drawing-room, where -again the flower-pots were everywhere, but specially -banked round the oriel window. Gilbert named -them one after the other like children at a -baptism, with a sort of easy certainty and -familiarity. His friend the nurseryman's clerk -had not failed him. Miss Girnigo was delighted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," she said, "it </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> pleasant to have some -one who knows Ceterach Officinarum from a -kail-stock. We shall go botanising together!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ye-es," said Gilbert, a little uncertainly, and -with less enthusiasm than might have been -expected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good heavens," he was saying, "how shall I -grind up the beastly thing if I have to live up -to all this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Miss Girnigo was in high good-humour, -though her pleasure was sadly marred by the -incipient cold in her head, which she was conscious -prevented her from doing herself justice. At -forty, eyes that water and a nose tipped with -pink do not make for maiden beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have a dreadful cold coming on, -Mr. Denholm," she said; "I really am not fit to -be seen. I wonder what I was thinking of to -ask you in!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Try this," said Gilbert, pulling a kind of -india-rubber puff-ball out of his pocket; "it is -quite good. It makes you sneeze like the -very—ahem—like anything. Stops a cold in no -time—won't be happy till you get it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't dare to—how does it work?" demurred -Miss Girnigo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gilbert illustrated, and began to sneeze promptly, -as the snuff titillated his air passages.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now you try!" he said, and smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gilbert held it insinuatingly to the lady's nostrils -and pumped vigorously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">A-tish—shoo!</em><span>" remarked the lady, as if he -had touched a spring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">A-tish—shoo-oo-ooh!</em><span>" replied Gilbert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After that they responded antiphonally, like -Alp answering Alp, till the door opened and -Dr. Girnigo appeared with a half-written sheet -of sermon paper in his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The guilty pair stood rooted to the ground—at -least, spasmodically so, for every other moment -a sneeze lifted one of them upon tiptoe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is this, Arabella, what is this? What is -this young man doing here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be—</span><em class="italics">a-tish—oo</em><span>—stupid, papa! You know -very well—</span><em class="italics">shoo</em><span>—it is Mr. Denholm, the new -Assist—</span><em class="italics">aroo</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir!" said Dr. Girnigo, turning upon his -junior and angrily stamping his foot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gilbert held out his hand, and as the Doctor -did not take it he waggled it feebly in the air -with a sort of impotent good-fellowship.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," he said; "better presently—only -c-curing Miss—Miss Girni—</span><em class="italics">goo-ahoo—arish-chee-hoo</em><span>—of -a cold!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know any one of that name, sir!" -thundered the Doctor, not wholly unreasonably.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No?" said Gilbert, anxiously; "I understood -that this—</span><em class="italics">a-tishoo</em><span>—lady was Miss Girnigo, though -I thought she was too young for a daughter—your -granddaughter, perhaps, Doctor?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the smile once more took in Miss Girnigo -as if she had been a beautiful picture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time Miss Girnigo had somewhat recovered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Papa," she said, sharply, "Mr. Denholm is going -to be such an acquisition. He is a botanist—a -Fellow of the Linnæan Society, I understand——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of Pittenweem," muttered Gilbert between -his teeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And he is going to preach on Sunday. You -have had a lot to worry you this week and -need a rest. Besides, your best shirts are not -ironed—-not dry indeed. The weather has been -so bad!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had made up my mind to preach on Sabbath -myself," said Dr. Girnigo, who, though a tyrant -untamed without, was held in considerable -subjection to the higher power within the bounds of -his own house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense, papa—I will not allow you to think -of such a thing!" cried Miss Girnigo. "Besides, -Mr. Denholm is coming to supper to-night, and we -will talk botany all the time!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Which was why the Eel, falling off his bicycle -at 1.45 p.m. that same day in front of my house -in Cairn Edward (sixteen miles away), burst into -my consulting-room with the following demand, -proclaimed in frenzied accents: "Lend me your -Bentley's Botany, or something—not that beastly -jaw-breaking German thing you are so fond of, but -something plain and easy, with the names of all -the plants in. I have the whole thing to get up -by eight o'clock to-night, and I'll eat my head if -I can remember what a cotyledon is!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is believed that on the way back the Eel -studied Bentley, cunningly adjusted on the -handlebar, with loops of string to keep the pages from -fluttering. (He was a trick-rider of repute.) At -any rate, he did not waste his time, and arrived -at the manse so full of botanical terms that he had -considerable difficulty in making himself intelligible -to the maid, who on this occasion, being cleaned -up, opened the door to him in state.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was the beginning of the taming of the -tiger. Gilbert preached the next forenoon, and -pleased the Doctor greatly by the excellent taste -of his opening remarks upon his text, which was, -"To preach the gospel ... and not to boast -in another man's line of things made ready to -our hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The preacher, as a new and original departure, -divided his subject into three heads, as followeth: -First, "The Duty of Respect for Ecclesiastical -Superiors"; second, "The Duty of Christian -Liberality" (he had to drag this in neck and -crop); and thirdly, "The Supreme Duty of -Humility in the Young with respect to their -Elders."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While he was looking it over on Sunday morning -Gilbert heartily confounded his friend Begg for -forgetting the other fifteen divisions of -Dr. Girnigo's sermons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could have made a much better appearance -if that fellow Begg had had any sense!" he said -to himself. "But" (with a sigh) "I must just do -the best I can with these."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, Dr. Girnigo considered that Gibby -had surpassed himself in his application. He -showed how any good that he might do in the -parish must not be set down to his credit, but to that -of Another who had so long laboured among them; -and how that he (the preacher), being but "as one -entering upon another man's line of things," it -behoved him above all things not to be boastful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A very sound address—quite remarkable in -one so young!" was the Doctor's verdict as -he met the Session after the close of Gilbert's -first service.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Session and congregation, however, did not -approve quite so highly, having had a surfeit of -similar teaching during the past forty years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Walter Learmont, senior (sad to tell it -of an Elder), winked the sober eye and remarked -to his intimates: "Bide a wee—he kens his way -aboot, thon yin. He wad juist be drawin' the -auld man's leg!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At any rate, certain it is that after this auspicious -beginning Gibby the Eel (M.A.) remained longer -in Rescobie than all his predecessors put together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was to Jemima Girnigo that he owed this.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-gate-of-the-upper-garden"><span class="bold large">THE GATE OF THE UPPER GARDEN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>For the first six months that Gibby the Eel, -otherwise the Reverend Gilbert Denholm, M.A., -acted as "helper" to Dr. Joseph Girnigo in the -parish of Rescobie, he was much pleased with -himself. He laughed with his friend and -classmate, Robertland, over the infatuation of the -doctor's old maid daughter. The parish, reading -the situation like a book, smiled broadly when the -"helper" and Miss Jemima Girnigo were discerned -on an opposite braeface, botanising together, or, -with heads bent over some doubtful bloom, stood -silhouetted against the sunlit green of some glade -in Knockandrews wood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During this period Gibby hugged himself upon -his cleverness, but the time came when he began to -have his doubts. What to him was a lightheart -prank, an "Eel's trick," like his college jest of -squirming secretly under class-room benches, was -obviously no jest to this pale-eyed, sharp-featured -maiden of one-and-forty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jemima Girnigo had never been truly young. -Repressed and domineered over as a child, she -had been suddenly promoted by her mother's death -to the care of a household and the responsibility -of training a bevy of younger brothers, all now -out in the world and doing for themselves. Her life -had grown more and more arid and self-contained. -She had nourished her soul on secret penances, -setting herself hard household tasks, and doing -with only one small, untaught, slatternly maid from -the village, in order that her father might be able to -assist his sons into careers. She read dry theology -to mortify a liking for novels, and shut up her soul -from intercourse with her equals, conscious, perhaps, -that visitors would infallibly discover and laugh at -her father's meannesses and peculiarities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only her flowers kept her soul sweet and a -human heart beating within that -buckram-and-whalebone-fenced bosom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, all suddenly came Gilbert Denholm with -his merry laugh, his light-heart ways (which she -openly reproved, but secretly loved), his fair curls -clustering about his brow, and his way of throwing -back his head as if to shake them into place. -Nothing so young, so winsome, or so gay had -ever set foot within that solemn dreich old manse. -It was like a light-heart city beauty coming to -change the life and disturb the melancholy of -some stern woman-despising hermit. But Jemima -Girnigo's case was infinitely worse, in that she -was a woman and the disturber of her peace little -better than a foolish boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Gilbert Denholm, kindly lad though he was, -saw no harm. He was only, he thought, impressing -himself upon the parish. He saw himself daily -becoming more popular. No farmer's party was -considered to be anything which wanted his ready -wit and contagious merriment. Already there was -talk among the Session of securing him as permanent -assistant and successor. There were fairways -and clear sunlit vistas before Gilbert Denholm; -and he liked his professional prospects all the better -that he owed them to his own wit and knowledge -of the world. He was a good preacher. He made -what is called an excellent appearance in the pulpit. -He did not "read." His fluency of utterance held -sleepy ploughmen in a state of blinking -attention for the better part of an hour. Even -Dr. Girnigo commended, and Gibby who had no -more abundant or direct "spiritual gifts" than are -the portion of most kind-hearted, well-brought-up -Scottish youths, was unconscious of his lack of -any higher qualifications for the Christian ministry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Gibby was like hundreds, aye, thousands -more, who break the bread and open unto men the -Scriptures in all the churches. His office meant -to him a career, not a call. His work was the -expression of hearty human goodwill to all -men—and so far helpful and godlike; but he had -never tasted sorrow, never drunken of the cup -of remorse as a daily beverage, never "dreed" -the common weird of humanity. Sorely he needed -a downsetting. He must endure hardness, be -driven out of self to the knowledge that self is -nowise sufficient for a sinful man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even Jemima Girnigo was a far better servant -of God than the man who had spent seven years -in preparation for that service. In the shut deeps -of her heart there were locked up infinite treasures -of self-sacrifice. Love was pitifully ready to look -forth from those pale eyes at whose corners the -crow's feet were already clutching. And so it -came to pass that, knowing her folly (and yet, in -a way, defying it), this old maid of forty-one loved -the handsome youth of four-and-twenty, the only -human love-compelling thing that had ever come -into her sombre life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet there were times when Jemima Girnigo's -heart was bitter within her, even as there were -seasons when the crowding years fell away and -she seemed almost young and fair. Jemima had -never been either very pretty or remarkably -attractive, but now when the starved instincts of -her lost youth awoke untimeously within her, she -unconsciously smiled and tossed her head, to the -full as coquettishly as a youthful beauty just -becoming conscious of her own power.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was all very pitiful. But Gibby passed on -his heedless way and saw not, neither recked of -his going.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Yet a time came when his eyes were opened. -A new paper-mill had come to Rescobie, migrating -from somewhere in the East country, where the -Messrs. Coxon had had a serious quarrel with their -ground landlord. From being a quiet hamlet the -village of Rescobie began rapidly to put on the -airs of a growing town. Tall houses of three -storeys, with many windows and outside stairs, -usurped the place of little old-fashioned -"but-and-bens." Red brick oblongs of mill frontage rose -along the valley of the Rescobie Water, which, -dammed and weired and carried along countless -lades, changed the cheerful brown limpidity of its -youthful stream for a frothy mud colour below -the mills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The new immigrants were mostly a sedate and -sober folk, as indeed, nearly all paper-makers are. -To the easy-going villagers their diligence seemed -phenomenal. They were flocking into the mill -gates by six in the morning. It was well nigh -six in the evening before the tide flowed back -toward the village. Among the youths and men -there was night-shift and day-shift, and a new and -strange pallor began to pervade the street and show -itself, carefully washed, in the gallery of Rescobie -Kirk. The village girls, finding that they could -make themselves early independent, took their -places in the long "finishing saal," while elderly -women, for whom there had been no outlook -except the poorhouse, found easy work and a -living wage in Coxon's rag-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The increase of the congregation in the second -year of Gilbert Denholm's assistantship compelled -the Session to bethink themselves of some more -permanent and satisfactory arrangement. Finally, -after many private meetings they resolved to beard -the lion in his den and lay before Dr. Girnigo -the proposal that Gilbert should be officially called -and ordained as the old man's "colleague and -successor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the ruling elder, called, after the name -of his farm, Upper Balhaldie, who belled the cat -and made the fateful proposition. In so doing -that shrewd and cautious man was considered to -have excelled himself. But Dr. Girnigo was far -from being appeased.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sirs," he said, "I have been sole minister of -the parish of Rescobie for forty years, and sole -minister of it I shall die!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Denholm will be to you as a son!" -suggested Balhaldie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have sons of my body," said the old minister, -looking full at the quiet men before him, who sat -on the edges of their several chairs fingering the -brims of their hats; "did I make any of them a -minister? Nay, sirs, and for this reason: because -the parish of Rescobie has been so near my heart -that I would not risk even the fruit of my body -coming between me and it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have sounded Mr. Denholm," said Balhaldie, -quietly ignoring the sentimental, "and you -may rest assured that you will not be disturbed -in your tenancy of the manse. Mr. Denholm has -no thought at present of changing his condition, -and is quite content with his lodging—and an -eident carfu' woman is his landlady the doctor's -weedow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, she is that!" concurred several of the -Session, speaking for the first time. It was a -relief to have something concrete to which they -could assent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Girnigo looked at his Session. They -seemed to shrink before him. Nervousness -quivered on their countenances. They tucked -their heavily-booted feet beneath the chairs on -which they sat, to be out of the way. The brims -of their hats were rapidly wearing out. Surely -such men could never oppose him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Dr. Girnigo knew better. Underneath -that awkward exterior, in spite of those embarrassed -manners, that air of anxious self-effacement, -Dr. Girnigo was well aware that there abode inflexible -determination, shrewd common sense and abounding -humour—chiefly, however, of the ironic sort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are ye all agreed on this?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I speak in name of the Session!" said Upper -Balhaldie succinctly, looking around the circle. -And as he looked each man nodded slightly, -without, however, raising his eyes from the -pattern on the worn study carpet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Doctor sighed a long sigh. He knew that -at last his trial was come upon him, and nerved -himself to meet it like a man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is well," he said; "I shall offer no objection -to the congregation calling Mr. Denholm, and I -can only hope that he will serve you as faithfully -as I have done! I wish you a very good day, -gentlemen!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with these words the old minister went -out, leaving the Session to find their way into the -cold air as best they might.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day after the interview between the Session -and the Doctor, Gilbert Denholm called at the -manse. He came bounding up the little avenue -between the lilac and rhododendron bushes. -Jemima Girnigo heard his foot long ere he had -reached the porch. Nay, before he had set foot -on the gravel she caught the click of the gate -latch, which was loose and would only open one -way. This Gibby always forgot and rattled it -fiercely till he remembered the trick of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then when she heard the </span><em class="italics">rat-tat-tat</em><span> of Gibby's -ash-plant on the panels of the door, she caught -her hand to her heart and stood still among her -plants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a bell, but Gibby was always in too -great a hurry to ring it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps he has come to——" She did not -finish the sentence, but the blood, rising hotly to -her poor withered cheeks, finished it for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Miss Jemima!" cried Gibby, bursting in; -"I came up to tell you first. I owe it all to -you—every bit of it. They are going to call me to -be colleague—and—and—we can botanise any -amount. Isn't it glorious?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held her hand while he was speaking; and -Jemima had been looking with hope into his frank, -enkindled, boyish eyes. Her eyelids fell at his -announcement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she faltered after a pause, "we can -botanise!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And they wanted to know if I would like to -have the manse—as if I would turn you out, who -have been my best friend here ever since I came -to Rescobie! Not very likely!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gilbert had an honest liking for Jemima Girnigo, -a feeling, however, which was not in the least akin -to love. Indeed, he would as soon have thought -of marrying his grandmother or any other of the -relationships in the table of prohibited degrees -printed at the beginning of the Authorised Version, -which he sometimes looked at furtively when -Dr. Girnigo was developing his "fourteenthly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are happy where you are?" said Jemima, -smiling a little wistfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," cried Gibby enthusiastically; "my -landlady makes me perfectly comfortable. She -thinks I am a lost soul, I am afraid, but in the -meantime she comforts me with apples—first-rate -they are in dumplings, too, I can tell you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While he spoke Jemima Girnigo was much -absorbed over a plant in a remote corner, and -more than one drop of an alien dew glistened upon -its leaves ere she turned again to the window. -Gibby's enthusiasm was a little damped by her -seeming indifference.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you not glad?" he asked anxiously; "I -came to tell you first. I thought what good times -we should have. We must go up Barstobrick -Hill for the parsley fern before it gets too late."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," said Jemima Girnigo, holding out her -hand, "I am very glad. No one is as glad as -I—I want you to believe that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course I do!" cried Gibby; "you always -were a good fellow, Jemima! We'll go up to -Barstobrick to-morrow. Mind you are ready by -nine. I have to be back for a meeting in the -afternoon early. It is a hungry place. Put some -'prog' in the </span><em class="italics">vasculum</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as from the parlour window she watched -him down the gravel, he turned around and wrote -"9 A.M." in large letters on the gravel with his -ash-plant, tossed his hand up at her in a gay -salute, and was gone.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But Gilbert Denholm and Jemima Girnigo did -not climb Barstobrick for parsley fern on the -morrow, and the "9 A.M." stood long plain upon -the gravel as a monument of the frail and futile -intents of man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For before the morrow's morn had dawned there -had fallen upon Rescobie the dreaded scourge of -all paper-making villages. Virulent small-pox -had broken out. There were already four -undoubted cases, all emanating from the rag-house -of Coxon's mills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About the streets and close-mouths stood -awe-struck groups of girls, uncertain whether to go on -with their work or return home. There was none -of the usual horse-play among the lads of the -day-shift as they went soberly mill-ward with their cans. -Grave elders, machinemen and engineers, shook their -heads and recalled the date at which (a fortnight -before) a large consignment of Russian rags had -been received and immediately put in hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was whispered, on what authority did not -appear, that the disease was of the malignant -"black" variety, and that all smitten must surely -die. Fear ran swift and chilly up each outside -staircase and entered unbidden every "land" in -Rescobie. It was the first time such a terror had -been in the village, and those who had opposed -the settlement of the mills, staid praisers of ancient -quiet, lifted their hands with something of jubilation -mixed with their fear. "Verily, the judgment of -God has fallen," they said, "even as in a night it -fell on Babylon—as in fire and brimstone it came -upon the Cities of the Plain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Girnigo retired to his study, feeling that if -the Session had allowed him his own way, things -would not have been as they were. He had a -sermon to write. So he mended a quill pen, took -out his sermon-paper (small quarto ruled in blue), -and set to work to improve the occasion. He said -to himself that since the parish had now a young -and active minister, it was good for Gilbert -Denholm to bear the yoke in his youth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, indeed, none was readier for the work -than that same Gilbert. He was shaving when -his landlady, the doctor's widow, cried in the -information through the panels of his closed door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank God," murmured Gibby, "that I have -none to mourn for me if I don't get through this!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he thought of his father, but, as he well -knew, that fine old Spartan was too staunch a -fighter in the wars of grace to discourage his son -from any duty, however dangerous. He thought -next of—well, one or two girls he had known—and -was glad now that it had gone no further.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not know yet what was involved in the -outbreak or what might be demanded of him. -Gilbert Denholm may have had few of the peculiar -graces of spiritual religion, but he was a fine, -manly, upstanding young fellow, and he resolved -that he would do his duty as if he had been -heading a rush of boarders or standing in the -deadly imminent breach. More exactly, perhaps, -he did not resolve at all. It never occurred to -him that he could do anything else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as he had snatched a hasty breakfast -and thrown on his coat, he hurried up to the house -of Dr. Durie. A plain blunt man was John -Durie—slim, pale, with keen dark eyes, and a -pointed black beard slightly touched with gray. -The doctor was not at home. He had not been -in all night and the maid did not know where -he was to be found.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To the right-about went Gilbert, asking all and -sundry as he went where and when they had seen -the doctor. Thomas Kyle, with his back against -the angle of the Railway Inn, averred that he had -seen him "an 'oor syne gangin' gye fast into Betty -McGrath's—but they say Betty is deid or this!" -he added, somewhat irrelevantly. Chairles Simson, -tilting his bonnet over his brows in order to scratch -his head in a new and attractive spot, deponed -that about ten minutes before he had noticed "the -tails o' the doctor's coat gaun roond the Mill-lands' -corner like stoor on a windy day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibby tried Betty McGrath's first. Yes, -Dr. Durie had ordered everybody out except the -sick woman, who was tossing on her truckle bed, -calling on the Virgin and all the saints in a shrill -Galway dialect, and her daughter Bridget, a -heavy-featured girl of twenty, who stood disconsolately -looking out at the window as if hope had wholly -forsaken her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibby inquired if the doctor had been there -recently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," said Bridget; "as ye may see if ye'll -be troubled lookin' in the corner. He tore down -all thim curtains off the box-bed. It'll break the -ould woman's heart, that it will, if ever the craitur -gets over this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the door Gibby met Father Phil Kavannah, -a tall young man with honest peasant's eyes and -a humorous mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You and I, surr, will have to see this through -between us," said Father Phil, grasping his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a bad business," responded Gilbert; "I -fear it will run through the mills."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Worse than ye think," said the priest very -gravely, "ten times worse—three-fourths of the -workers have no relatives here, and there will -be no one to nurse them. They've talked lashin's -about the new village hospital, and raised all -Tipperary about where it is to stand and what -it is to cost, but that's all that's done about -it yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gilbert whistled a bar of "Annie Laurie," which -he kept for emergencies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said slowly, "it will be like serving -a Sunday-school picnic with half a loaf and one -jar of marmalade—but we'll just need to see -how far we can make ourselves go round!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Right!" said Father Phil with a wave of his -hand as he stood with his fingers on the latch of -Betty McGrath's door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gilbert found the doctor in the great "saal" at -the mills. He had his coat off and was scraping -at bared arms for dear life. At each door stood a -pair of stalwart sentinels, and several hundred -mill workers were grouped about talking in -low-voiced clusters. Only here and there one more -diligent than the rest, or with quieter nerves, deftly -passed sheets of white paper from hand to hand -as if performing a conjuring trick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The doctor spied Gilbert as he entered. They -were excellent friends. "Man," he cried across the -great room, looking down again instantly to his -work, "run up to the surgery for another tube of -vaccine like this. It is in B cabinet, shelf 6. And -as you come back, wire for half-a-dozen more. -You know where I get them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Gilbert sped upon his first errand. After -that he deserted his own lodgings, and he and -Dr. Durie took hasty and informal meals when -they could snatch a moment from work. Sundry -cold edibles stood permanently on the doctor's -oaken sideboard, and of these Gilbert and his -host partook without sitting down. Then on -a couch, or more often on a few rugs thrown -on the floor, one or the other would snatch a -hurried sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were twenty-six cases on Saturday—fifty-eight -by the middle of the following week. Within -the same period nine had terminated fatally, and -there were others who could not possibly recover. -Nurses came in from the great city hospitals, as -they could be spared, but the demand far exceeded -the supply, and Gilbert was indefatigable. Yet his -laugh was cheery as ever, and even the delirious -would start into some faint consciousness of -pleasure at the sound of his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But one day the young minister awoke with a -racking head, a burning body, a dry throat, and -the chill of ice in his bones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is nothing—I will work it off," said Gibby; -and, getting up, he dressed with haste and went -out without touching food. The thought of eating -was abhorrent to him. Nevertheless, he did his -work all the forenoon, and went here and there -with medicine and necessaries. He relieved a -nurse who had been two nights on duty, while she -slept for six hours. Then after that he set off -home to catch Dr. Durie before he could be -out again. For he had heard his host come in -and throw himself down on the couch while he -was dressing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he passed the front of Rescobie Manse, -he looked up to wave a hand to Jemima, as he -never forgot to do. Her father was still -"indisposed," and Miss Girnigo was understood to be -taking care of him. Yes, there she was among -her flowers, and Gibby, hardly knowing what he -did—being light-headed and racked with pain—openly -kissed his hand to her within sight of -half-a-score of Rescobie windows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, his feet somehow tangling themselves and -his knees failing him, he fell all his length in the -hot dust of the highway.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Gilbert Denholm came to himself he -found a white-capped nurse sitting by the window -of a room he had never before seen. There was -a smell of disinfectants all about, which somehow -seemed to have followed him through all the -boundless interstellar spaces across which he had -been wandering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where am I?" said Gibby, as the nurse came -toward the bed. "I have not seen Betty McGrath -this morning, and I promised Father Phil that -I would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must not ask questions," said the nurse -quietly. "Dr. Durie will soon be here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And after that with a curious readiness Gibby -slipped back into a drowsy dream of gathering -flowers with Jemima Girnigo; but somehow it -was another Jemima—so young she seemed, so -fair. Crisp curls glanced beneath her hat brim. -Young blood mantled in changeful blushes on -her cheeks. Her pale eyes, which had always -been a little watery, were now blue and bright -as a mountain tarn on a day without clouds. He -had never seen so fair and joyous a thing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jemima," he said, or seemed to himself to -say, "what is the matter with you? You are -different somehow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is all because you love me, Gilbert," she -answered, and smiled up at him. "Ever since -you told me that, I have grown younger every -hour; and, do you know, I have found the Grass -of Parnassus at last. It grows by the Gate into -the Upper Garden?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Hello, Denholm, clothed and in your right -mind, eh? That's right!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the cheerful voice of his friend, -Dr. Durie, as he stood by Gibby's bedside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What has been the matter with me, Durie?" -said Gilbert, though in his heart he knew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have had bad small-pox, my boy; and -have had a hot chance to find out whether you -have been speaking the truth in your sermons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibby could hardly bring his lips to frame the -next question. He was far from vain, but to a -young man the thought was a terrible one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall I be much disfigured?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, a dimple or two—nothing to mar you -on your marriage day. You have been well -looked after."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have saved my life, doctor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Gibby strove to reach a feeble hand -outward, which, however, the doctor did not seem -to see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I—you owe that to some one else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The nurse who went out just now?" queried Gibby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, she has just been here a few clays, after -all danger had passed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gilbert strove to rise on his elbow and the red -flushed his poor face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The doctor restrained him with a strong and -gentle hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lie back," he said, "or I will go away and -tell you nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat down by the bedside, and with a soft -sponge touched the convalescent's brow. As he -did so he spoke in a low and meditative tone -as though he had been talking to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was once a foolish young man who -thought that he could take twenty shillings out -of a purse into which he had only put half a -sovereign. He fell down one day on the street. -A woman carried him in and nursed him through -a fortnight's delirium. A woman caught him as -he ran, with only a blanket about him, to drown -himself in the Black Pool of Rescobie Water. -Night and day she watched him, sleepless, without -weariness, without murmuring——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And this woman—who saved my life—what -was—her name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gibby's voice was very hoarse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jemima Girnigo!" said the doctor, sinking his -voice also to a whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is she—I want to see her—I want to -thank her?" cried Gibby. He was actually upon -his elbow now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Dune forced him gently back upon the pillows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes," he said soothingly, "so you shall—if -all tales be true; but for that you must wait."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why—why?" cried impatient Gibby. "Why -cannot I see her now? She has done more for -me than ever I deserved——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is the way of women," said the doctor, -"but you cannot thank her now. She is dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dead—dead!" gasped Gilbert, stricken to the -heart; "then she gave her life for me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something like it," said the doctor, a trifle -grimly. For though he was a wise man, the ways -of women were dark to him. He thought that -Gilbert, though a fine lad, was not worth all this.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dead," muttered Gibby, "and I cannot even -tell her—make it up to her——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She left you a message," said the doctor -very quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was it?" cried Gibby, eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nothing much," said Dr. Durie; "there -was no hope from the first, and she knew it. Her -mind was clear all the three days, almost to the -last. She may have wandered a little then, for -she told me to tell you——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What—what—oh, what? Tell me quickly. -I cannot wait."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That the flowers were blooming in the Upper -Garden, and that she would meet you at the Gate!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Reverend Gilbert Denholm never married. -He bears a scar or two on his open face—a face -well beloved among his people. There is a grave -in Rescobie kirkyard that he tends with his own -hands. None else must touch it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is the resting-place of a woman whom love -made young and beautiful, and about whose feet -the flowers of Paradise are blooming, as, alone but -not impatient, she waits his coming by the Gate.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-troubler-of-israel"><span class="bold large">THE TROUBLER OF ISRAEL</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Unless you happen to have made one of a group -of five or six young men who every Sunday -morning turned their steps towards the little -meeting-house in Lady Nixon's Wynd, it is safe -to say that you did not know either it or the -Doctor of Divinity. That is to say, not unless you -were born in the Purple and expert of the mysteries -of the Kirk of the Covenants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The denomination was a small one, smaller even -and poorer than is the wont of Scottish sects. By -the eternal process of splitting off, produced by the -very faithfulness of the faithful, and the remorseless -way in which they carried out their own logic, by -individual pretestings and testifyings, by the yet -sadder losses inflicted by the mammon of -unrighteousness, when some, allured by social wealth -and position, turned aside to worship in some -richer or more popular Zion, the Kirk of the -Covenants worshipping in Lady Nixon's Wynd -had become but the shadow of its former self.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still, however, by two infallible signs you might -know the faithful. They spoke of the "Boady" -and of the "Coavenants" with a lengthening of -that </span><em class="italics">O</em><span> which in itself constituted a shibboleth, and -their faces—grim and set mostly—lit up when -you spoke of the "Doctor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But one—they had but one—Dr. Marcus Lawton -of Lady Nixon's Wynd. He was their joy, their -pride, their poetry; the kitchen to their sour -controversial bread, the mellow glory of their -denomination. (Again you must broaden the </span><em class="italics">a</em><span> -indefinitely.) He had once been a professor, but -by the noblest of self-denying ordinances he had -extruded himself from his post for conscience sake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was but one fly in their apothecary's -ointment-pot when my father grew too stiff to -attend the Kirk of the Covenants even once a year, -and that was that the Doctor, unable to live and -bring up a family on a sadly dwindling stipend -(though every man and woman in the little kirk -did almost beyond their possible to increase it), had -been compelled to bind himself to spend part of -the day in a secular pursuit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At least to the average mind his employment -could hardly be called "secular," being nothing -more than the Secretaryship of the Association for -the Propagation of Gospel Literature; but to the -true covenant man this sonorous society was -composed of mere Erastians, or what was little -better, ex-Erastians and common Voluntaries. -They all dated from 1689, and the mark of the -beast was on their forehead—that is to say, the -seal of the third William, the Dutchman, the -revolutionary Gallio. Yet their Doctor, with his -silver hair, his faithful tongue, his reverence, wisdom, -and weight of indubitable learning, had to sit silent -in the company of such men, to take his orders -from them, and even to record their profane -inanities in black and white. The Doctor's office -was at the corner of Victoria Street as you turn -down towards the Grassmarket. And when any -of his flock met him coming or going thither, they -turned away their heads—that is, if he had passed -the entrance to Lady Nixon's Wynd when they -met him. So far it was understood that he </span><em class="italics">might</em><span> -be going to write his sermon in the quiet of the -vestry. After that, there was no escape from the -damning conclusion that he was on his way to the -shrine of Baal—and other Erastian divinities. So -upon George Fourth Bridge the Covenant folk turned -away their heads and did not see their minister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now this is hardly a story—certainly not a -tale. Only my heart being heavy, I knew it -would do me good to turn it upon the Doctor. -Dr. Marcus Lawton was the son of Dr. Marcus -Lawton. When first he succeeded his father, which -happened when he was little more than a boy, -and long before I was born, he was called "young -Maister Lawton." Then it was that he lectured on -"The Revelation" on Sabbath evenings, his father -sitting proudly behind him. Then the guttering -candles of Lady Nixon's looked down on such an -array as had never been seen before within her -borders. College professors were there, ministers -whose day's work was over—as it had been, Cretes -and Arabians, heathen men and publicans. Edward -Irving himself came once, in the weariful days before -the great darkness. The little kirk was packed -every night, floor and loft, aisle and pulpit stairs, -entrance hall and window-sill, with such a crowd of -stern, grave-visaged men as had never been gathered -into any kirk in the town of Edinburgh, since a -certain little fair man called Rutherford preached -there on his way to his place of exile in Aberdeen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So my father has often told me, and you may -be sure he was there more than once, having made -it a duty to do his business with my lord's factor -at a time when his soul also might have dealings -with the most approven factors of Another Lord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These were great days, and my father (Alexander -McQuhirr of Drumwhat), still kindles when he -tells of them. No need of dubious secretaryships -then, or of the turning away of faithful heads at -the angle of the Candlemaker-row. No young -family to be provided for, Doctorate coming at -the Session's close from his own university, -Professorship on the horizon, a united Body of the -devout to minister to! And up there in the pulpit -a slim young man with drawing power in the -eyes of him, and a voice which even then was -mellow as a blackbird's flute, laying down the -law of his Master like unto the great of old who -testified from Cairntable even unto Pentland, and -from the Session Stane at Shalloch-on-Minnoch -to where the lion of Loudon Hill looks defiant -across the green flowe of Drumclog.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when I began to attend Lady Nixon's -regularly, things were sorely otherwise. The kirk -was dwindled and dwindling—-in membership, in -influence, most of all in finance. But not at all -in devotion, not in enthusiasm, not in the sense -of privilege that those who remained were thought -worthy to sit under such faithful ministrations as -those of the Doctor. There was no more any -"young Maister Lawton." Nor was a comparison -pointed disparagingly by a reference to "the Auld -Doctor, young Dr. Marcus's faither, ye ken."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the alert, keen-faced, loyal-hearted precentor -(no hireling he) to the grave and dignified -"kirk-officer" there were not two minds in all -that little body of the faithful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You remember MacHaffie-a steadfast man -Haffie—no more of his name ever used. Indeed, -it was but lately that I even knew he owned the -prefatory Mac. He would give you a helpful -hint oftentimes (after you had passed the plate), -"It's no himsel' the day!" Or more warningly -and particularly, "It's a student." Then Haffie -would cover your retreat, sometimes going the -length of making a pretence of conversation with -you as far as the door, or on urgent occasions (as -when the Doctor was so far left to himself as to -exchange with a certain "popular preacher") even -taking you downstairs and letting you out secretly -by a postern door which led, in the approven -manner of romances, into a side street down which, -all unseen, you could escape from your fate. But -Haffie always kept an eye on you to see that you -did not abstract your penny from the plate. That -was the payment he exacted for his good offices; -and as I could not afford two pennies on one -Sunday morning, Haffie's "private information" -usually drove me to Arthur's Seat, or down to -Granton for a smell of the salt water; and I can -only hope that this is set down to Haffie's account -in the books of the recording angel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But all this was before the advent of Gullibrand. -You have heard of him, I doubt not—Gullibrand -of Barker, Barker, & Gullibrand, provision -merchants, with branches all over the three -kingdoms. His name is on every blank wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gullibrand was not an Edinburgh man. He -came, they say, from Leicester or some Midland -English town, and brought a great reputation with -him. He had been Mayor of his own city, a -philanthropist almost by profession, and the light -and law-giver of his own particular sect always. -I have often wondered what brought him to Lady -Nixon's Wynd. Perhaps he was attracted by the -smallness of our numbers, and by the thought that, -in default of any congregation of his own peculiar -sect in the northern metropolis, he could "boss" the -Kirk of the Covenants as he had of a long season -"bossed" the Company of Apocalyptic Believers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was said, with I know not what truth, that -the first time Mr. Gullibrand came to the Kirk of -the Covenants, the Doctor was lecturing in his -ordinary way upon Daniel's Beast with Ten Horns. -And, if that be so, our angelical Doctor had reason -to rue to the end of his life that the discourse -had been so faithful and soul-searching. Though -Gullibrand thought his interpretation of the ninth -horn very deficient, and told him so. But he was -so far satisfied that he intimated his intention of -"sending in his lines" next week.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At first it was thought to be a great thing that -the Kirk of the Covenants in Lady Nixon's Wynd -should receive so wealthy and distinguished an -adherent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite an acquisition, my dear," said the -hard-pressed treasurer, thinking of the ever increasing -difficulty of collecting the stipend, and of the -church expenses, which had a way of totalling -up beyond all expectation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bide a wee, Henry," said his more cautious -wife; "to see the colour o' the man's siller is -no to ken the colour o' his heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And to this she added a thoughtful rider.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And after a', what does a bursen Englishy -craitur like yon ken aboot the Kirk o' the -Co-a-venants?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as good Mistress Walker prophesied as -she took her douce way homeward with her husband -(honorary treasurer and unpaid precentor) down -the Middle Meadow Walk, even so in the fulness -of time it fell out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Jacob Gullibrand gave liberally, at which -the kindly heart of the treasurer was elate within -him. Mr. Jacob Gullibrand got a vacant seat in -the front of the gallery which had once belonged -to a great family from which, the faithful dying -out, the refuse had declined upon a certain -Sadducean opinon calling itself Episcopacy; and -from this highest seat in the synagogue Mr. Jacob -blinked with a pair of fishy eyes at the Doctor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then in the fulness of time Mr. Jacob became -a "manager," because it was considered right that -he should have a say in the disposition of the -temporalities of which he provided so great a part. -Entry to the Session was more difficult. For the -Session is a select and conservative body—an inner -court, a defenced place set about with thorns and -not to be lightly approached; but to such a man -as Gullibrand all doors in the religious world open -too easily. Whence cometh upon the Church -of God mockings and scorn, the strife of tongues—and -after the vials have been poured out, at the -door One with the sharp sword in His hand, -the sword that hath two edges.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So after presiding at many Revival meetings -and heading the lists of many subscriptions, Jacob -Gullibrand became an elder in the Kirk of the -Covenants and a power in Lady Nixon's Wynd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had for some time been a leading Director -of the Association for the Propagation of Gospel -Literature; and so in both capacities he was the -Doctor's master. Then, having gathered to him -a party, recruited chiefly from the busybodies in -other men's matters and other women's characters, -Jacob Gullibrand turned him about, and set -himself to drive the minister and folk of the Kirk -of the Covenant as he had been wont to drive his -clerks and shop-assistants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went every Sabbath into the vestry after -service to reprove and instruct Dr. Marcus Lawton. -His sermons (so he told him) were too old-fashioned. -They did not "grip the people." They -did not "take hold of the man on the street." They -were not "in line with the present great -movement." In short, they "lacked modernity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Marcus answered meekly. Man more -modest than our dear Doctor there was not in -all the churches—no, nor outside of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am conscious of my many imperfections," -he said; "my heart is heavy for the weakness -and unworthiness of the messenger in presence of -the greatness of the message; but, sir, I do the -best I can, and I can only ask Him who hath -the power, to give the increase."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But how," asked Jacob Gullibrand, "can you -expect any increase when I never see you preaching -in the market-place, proclaiming at the -street-corners, denouncing upon a hundred platforms the -sins of the times? You should speak to the times, -my good sir, you should speak to the times."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As worthy Dr. Leighton, that root out of a -dry ground, sayeth," murmured our Doctor with a -sweet smile, "there be so many that are speaking -to the times, you might surely allow one poor -man to speak for eternity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the quotation was thrown away upon -Jacob Gullibrand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not know this Leighton—and I think -I am acquainted with all the ministers who have -the root of the matter in them in this and in -other cities of the kingdom. And I call upon you, -sir, to stir us up with rousing evangelical addresses -instead of set sermons. We are asleep, and we -need awakening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am all too conscious of it," said the Doctor; -"but it is not my talent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then if you do know it, if your conscience -tells you of your failure, why not get in some -such preachers as Boanerges Simpson of Maitland, -or even throw open your pulpit to some earnest -merchant-evangelist such as—well, as myself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mr. Gullibrand had gone a step too far. -The Doctor could be a Boanerges also upon -occasion, though he walked always in quiet ways -and preferred the howe of life to the mountain tops.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, sir," he said firmly; "no unqualified or -unlicensed man shall ever preach in my pulpit -so long as I am minister and teaching elder of -a Covenant-keeping Kirk!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll see about that!" said Jacob Gullibrand, -thrusting out his under lip over his upper half-way -to his nose. Then, seizing his tall hat and -unrolled umbrella, he stalked angrily out.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And he kept his word. He did see about it. -In Lady Nixon's Wynd there was division. On -the one side were ranged the heads of families -generally, the folk staid and set in the old -ways—"gospel-hardened" the Gullibrandites called them. -With the Doctor were the old standards of the -Kirk, getting a little dried, maybe, with standing -so long in their post-holes, but, so far as in them -lay, faithful unto death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the younger folk mostly followed the new -light. There were any number of Societies, Gospel -Bands, Armies of the Blue Ribbon, and of the -White—all well and better than well in their -places. But being mostly imported wholesale from -England, and all without exception begun, carried -on, and ended in Gullibrand, they were out of -keeping with the plain-song psalms of the Kirk -of the Martyrs. There were teas also at "Mount -Delectable," the residence of Gullibrand, where, -after the singing of many hymns and the superior -blandishments of the Misses Gullibrand, it was -openly said that if the Kirk in Lady Nixon's -Wynd was to be preserved, the Doctor must -"go." He was in the way. He was a fossil. He had -no modern light. He took no interest in the -"Work." He would neither conduct a campaign -of street-preaching nor allow an unordained -evangelist into his pulpit. The Doctor must -go. Mr. Gullibrand was sure that a majority of -the congregation was with him. But there were -qualms in many hearts which even three cups of -Gullibrand's Coffee Essence warm could not cure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After all, the Doctor was the Doctor—and he had -baptised the most part of those present. Besides, -they minded that time when Death came into their -houses—and also that Noble Presence, that saintly -prayer, that uplifted hand of blessing; but in -the psychological moment, with meet introduction -from the host, uprose the persecuted evangelist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If he was unworthy to enter the pulpits of -Laodicean ministers, men neither cold nor hot, -whom every earnest evangelist should" (here he -continued the quotation and illustrated it with -an appropriate gesture) "he at least thanked God -that he was no Doctor of Divinity. Nor yet of -those who would permit themselves to be dictated -to by self-appointed and self-styled ministers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so on, and so on. The type does not vary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The petition or declaration already in Gullibrand's -breast pocket was then produced, adopted, -and many signatures of members and adherents -were appended under the influence of that stirring -appeal. Great was Gullibrand. The morning light -brought counsel—but it was too late. Gullibrand -would erase no name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You signed the document, did you not? Of -your own free will? That is your handwriting? -Very well then!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The blow fell on the Sabbath before the summer -communion, always a great time in the little -Zion in Lady Nixon's Wynd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A deputation of two, one being Jacob Gullibrand, -elder, waited on Dr. Marcus Lawton after the first -diet of worship. They gave him a paper to read -in which he was tepidly complimented upon his -long and faithful services, and informed that the -undersigned felt so great an anxiety for his health -that they besought him to retire to a well-earned -leisure, and to permit a younger and more vigorous -man to bear the burden and the heat of the day. -(The choice of language was Gullibrand's.) No -mention was made of any retiring allowance, nor -yet of the manse, in which his father before him -had lived all his life, and in which he himself had -been born. But these things were clearly enough -understood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What need has he of a manse or of an allowance -either?" said Gullibrand. "His family are -mostly doing for themselves, and he has no doubt -made considerable savings. Besides which, he -holds a comfortable appointment with a large -salary, as I have good reason to know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," he added to himself, "he may not hold -that very long either. I will teach any man -living to cross Jacob Gullibrand!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Doctor sat in the little vestry with the tall -blue scroll spread out before him. The light of -the day suddenly seemed to have grown dim, and -somehow he could hardly see to smooth out the -curled edges.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is surely raining without," said the Doctor, -and lighted the gas with a shaking hand. He -looked down the list of names of members and -adherents appended to the request that he should -retire. The written letters danced a little before -his eyes, and he adjusted his glasses more firmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"William Gilmour, elder," he murmured; "ah, -his father was at school with me; I mind that -I baptised William the year I was ordained. He -was a boy at my Bible-class, a clever boy, too. I -married him; and he came in here and grat like a -bairn when his first wife died, sitting on that chair. -I called on the Lord to help William Gilmour—and -now—he wants me away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jacob Gullibrand, elder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Doctor passed the name of his persecutor -without a comment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Christopher Begbie, manager. He was kind -to me the year the bairns died."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>(Such was Christopher's testimony. The year -before I went to Edinburgh the Doctor had lost -a well-beloved wife and two children, within a -week of each other. He preached the Sabbath -after on the text, "All thy waves have gone over -me!" Christopher Begbie, manager, had been -kind then. Pass, Christopher!)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robert Armstrong, manager. Mine own -familiar friend in whom I trusted," said the Doctor, -and stared at the lozenges of the window till -coloured spots danced before his kind old eyes. -"Robert Armstrong, for whose soul I wrestled -even as Jacob with his Maker; Robert Armstrong -that walked with me through the years together, -and with whom I have had so much sweet -communion, even Robert also does not think -me longer fit to break the bread of life among -these people!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pass, Robert! There is that on the blue foolscap -which the Doctor hastened to wipe away with his -sleeve. But it is doubtful if such drops are ever -wholly wiped away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"John Malcolm—ah, John, I do not wonder. -Perhaps I was over faithful with thee, John. But -it was for thy soul's good. Yet I did not think -that the son of thy father would bear malice!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Margaret Fountainhall, Elizabeth Fountainhall—the -children of many prayers. Their mother -was a godly woman indeed; and you, too, -Margaret and Elizabeth, would sit under a younger -man. I mind when I prepared you together for -your first communion!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Doctor sighed and bent his head lower -upon the paper. "Ebenezer Redpath, James -Bannatyne, Samuel Gardiner"—he passed the names -rapidly, till he came to one—"Isobel Swan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Doctor smiled at the woman's name. It -was the first time he had smiled since they -gave him the paper and he realised what was -written there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Isobel," he murmured, "once in a far-off -day you did not think as now you think!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he saw himself, a slim stripling in his -father's pew, and across the aisle a girl who -worshipped him with her eyes. And so the Doctor -passed from the name of Isobel Swan, still -smiling—but kindly and graciously, for our Doctor had -it not in him to be anything else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He glanced his eye up and down the list. He -seemed to miss something.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Henry Walker, treasurer—I do not see thy -name, Henry. Many is the hard battle I have -had with thee in the Session, Henry. Dost thou -not want thine old adversary out of thy path once -and for all? And Mary, thy wife? Tart is thy -tongue, Mary, but sweet as a hazel-nut in the -front of October thy true heart!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thomas Baillie—where art thou, true Thomas? -I crossed thee in the matter of the giving out of -the eleventh paraphrase, Thomas. Yet I do not -see thy name. Is it possible that thou hast -forgotten the nearer ill and looked back on the days -of old when Allan Symington with Gilbert his -brother, and thou and I, Thomas Baillie, went to -the house of God in company? No, these things -are not forgotten. I thank God for that. The -name of Thomas Baillie is not here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the Doctor folded up the blue crackling -paper and placed it carefully between the "leds" -of the great pulpit Bible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the beginning of the week of Communion," -he said; "it is not meet that I should mingle -secular thoughts with the memory of the broken -body and the shed blood. On your knees, Marcus -Lawton, and ask forgiveness for your repining -and discriminating among the sheep of the flock -whom it is yours to feed on a coming Lord's -day; and are they not all yours—your responsibility, -your care, aye, Marcus—even—even Jacob -Gullibrand?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was the Sabbath of High Communion in the -Kirk of the Covenants. Nixon's Wynd, ordinarily -so grim and bare, so gritty underfoot and so narrow -overhead, now seemed to many a spacious way to -heaven, down which walked the elect of the Lord -in a way literally narrow, and literally steep, and -literally closed with a gate at which few, very -few, went in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A full hour too soon they began to arrive, -strange quaint figures some of them, gathered from -the nooks and corners of the old town. They -arrived in twos and threes—the children's children -of the young plants of grace who saw Claverhouse -ride down the West Bow on his way to Killiecrankie. -As far as Leith walk you might know -them, bent a little, mostly coopers in the Trongate, -wrights in the Kirk Wynd, ships' carpenters at the -Port. They had their little "King's Printer" Bibles -in the long tails of their blue coats—for black had -not yet come in to make uniform all the congregations -of every creed. But the mistress, walking a -little behind, carried her Bible decently wrapped in a -white napkin along with a sprig of southern-wood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All that Sabbath day there hung, palpable and -almost visible, about Nixon's Wynd a sweet savour -as of "Naphtali," and the Persecutions, and Last -Testimonies in the Grassmarket; but in the -shrine itself there was nothing grim, but only -graciousness and consolation and the sense of the -living presence of the Hope of Israel. For our -Doctor was there sitting throned among his elders. -The sun shone through the narrow windows, and -just over the wall, it it were your good fortune to -be near those on the left-hand side, you could see -the top of the Martyrs' monument in the kirkyard -of Old Greyfriars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was great to see the Doctor on such days, -great to hear him. Beneath, the white cloths -glimmered fair on the scarred bookboards, bleached -clean in honour of the breaking of holy bread. -The silver cups, ancient as Drumclog and Shalloch, -so they said, shone on the table of communion, -and we all looked at them when the Doctor said -the solemn and mysterious words, "wine on the -lees well refined."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For there are no High Churchmen so truly high -as the men of the little protesting covenanting -remnants of the Reformation Kirk of Scotland; -none so jealous in guarding the sacraments; none -that can weave about them such a mantle of awe -and reverence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Doctor was concluding his after-table -address. Very reverend and noble he looked, his -white hair falling down on his shoulders, his hands -ever and anon wavering to a blessing, his voice -now rising sonorous as a trumpet, but mostly of -flute-like sweetness, in keeping with his words. -He never spoke of any subject but one on such a -day. That was, the love of Christ.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fifty-one summer communions have I been -with you in this place," so he concluded, "breaking -the bread and speaking the word. Fifty-one years -to-day is it since my father took me by the hand -and led me up yonder to sit by his side. Few -there be here in the flesh this day who saw that. -But there are some. Of such I see around me -three—Henry Walker, and Robert Armstrong, and -John Malcolm. It is fitting that those who saw -the beginning should see the end."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At these words a kind of sough passed over the -folk. You have seen the wind passing over a field -of ripe barley. Well, it was like that. From my -place in the gallery I could see set faces whiten, -shoulders suddenly stoop, as the whole congregation -bent forward to catch every word. A woman -sobbed. It was Isobel Swan. The white faces -turned angrily as if to chide a troublesome child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It has come upon me suddenly, dear friends," -the Doctor went on, "even as I hope that Death -itself will. Sudden as any death it hath been, and -more bitter. For myself I was not conscious of -failing energies, of natural strength abated. But -you, dear friends, have seen clearer than I the needs -of the Kirk of the Covenants. One hundred and -six years Marcus Lawtons have ministered in this -place. From to-day they shall serve tables no -more. Once—and not so long ago, it seems, -looking back—I had a son of my body, a plant reared -amid hopes and prayers and watered with tears. -The Lord gave. The Lord took. Blessed be -the name of the Lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There ensued a silence, deep, still—yet somehow -also throbbing, expectant. Isobel Swan did not -sob again. She had hidden her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now my last word. After fifty-one years -of service in this place, it is hard to come to the -end of the hindmost furrow, to drop the hand -from the plough, never more to go forth in the -morning as the sower sowing precious seed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">No—no—no!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not only Isobel Swan now, but the -whole congregation. Here and there, back and -forth subdued, repressed, ashamed, but irresistible, -the murmur ran; but the doctor's voice did not -shake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fifty-one years of unworthy service, my -friends—what of that?—a moment in the eternity -of God. Never again shall I meet you here as -your minister; but I charge you that when we -meet in That Day you will bear me witness -whe her I have loved houses or lands, or father or -mother or wife or children better than you! And -now, fare you well. The memory of bygone -communions, of hours of refreshment and prayer -in this sacred place, of death-beds blessed and -unforgotten in your homes shall abide with me as -they shall abide with you. The Lord send among -you a worthier servant than Marcus Lawton, your -fellow-labourer and sometime minister. Again, -and for the last time, fare you well!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was a strange communion. The silver cups -still stood on the table, battered, but glistening. -The plates of bread that had been blessed were -beside them. The elders sat around. A low -inarticulate murmur of agony travelled about the -little kirk as the Doctor sat down and covered -his face with his hands, as was his custom after -pronouncing the benediction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then in the strange hush uprose the tall angular -form of William Gilmour from the midst of the -Session, his bushy eye-brows working and twitching.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, sir," he said, in forceful jerks of speech, -"dinna leave us. I signed the paper under a -misapprehension. The Lord forgive me! I -withdraw my name. Jacob Gullibrand may -dischairge me if he likes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat down as abruptly as he had risen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then there was a kind of commotion all over -the congregation. One after another rose and -spoke after their kind, some vehemently, some -with shamed faces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I!" "And I!" "And I!" cried a -dozen at a time. "Bide with us, Doctor! We -cannot want you! Pray for us!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Henry Walker, the white-haired, sharp-featured -treasurer and precentor of Nixon's Wynd, -stretched out his hand. The Doctor had been -speaking, as is the custom, not from the pulpit, -but from the communion table about which the -elders sat. He had held the Gullibrand manifesto -in his hand; but ere he lifted them up in his -final blessing he had dropped it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henry Walker took it and stood up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it your will that I tear this paper? Those -contrary keep their seats—those agreeable -STAND UP!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As one man the whole congregation stood up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All, that is, save Jacob Gullibrand. He sat a -moment, and then amid a silence which could be -felt, he rose and staggered out like a man suddenly -smitten with sore sickness. He never set foot in -Nixon's Wynd again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henry Walker waited till the door had closed -upon the Troubler of Israel, the paper still in -his hand. Then very solemnly he tore it into -shreds and trampled them under foot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He waited a moment for the Doctor to speak, -but he did not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you, also, will withdraw your resignation -and stay with us?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Doctor could not answer in words; but he -nodded his head. It was, indeed, the desire of his -heart. Then in a loud and surprising -voice—jubilant, and yet with a kind of godly anger in it, -Henry Walker gave out the closing psalm.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"All people that on earth do dwell,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Him serve with mirth, His praise forthtell,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Come ye before Him and rejoice!"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="carnation-s-morning-joy"><span class="bold large">CARNATION'S MORNING JOY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This is the story of the little white-washed cottage -at the top of the brae a mile or so before you -come into Cairn Edward. It is a love story, a -simple and uneventful one, quickly told.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cottage is not now what it was—I fear to -say how many years ago—when I was wont to drive -in to the Cameronian Kirk on summer Sabbaths in -the red farm cart. Then not only I, but every -one used to watch from far for the blue waft of -reek going up as we sighted the white -gable-end far away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carnation's Cottage!" we used to call it, and -even my father, Cameronian elder as he was, smiled -when he passed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was so named because a girl once lived there -whose fame for worth and beauty had travelled -very far. Her name was Carnation Maybold, a -combination which at once tells its tale of no -countryside origin. Carnation's father was a -railroad engineer who had come from England -and married a farmer's daughter in a neighbouring -parish. Then when Carnation's mother died in -childbirth, he had called his one daughter by -the name of his wife's favourite flower.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What for do ye no caa' her Jessie like her -mither?" said the ancient dame who had come -to keep his house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I never want to hear that name -again!" Engineer Maybold had said. For he had -been wrapped up in his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carnation Maybold lost her father, the imaginative -man and second-rate engineer, when she was -thirteen, a tall slim slip of a girl, with a face like -a flower and a cheek that already had upon it the -blush of her name. Old Tibbie Lockhart dwelt -with her, and defenced the orphan maid about more -securely than a city set with walls. The girl went -a mile to the Cairn Edward Academy, where she -was already in the first girls' class, and John -Charles Morrison carried the green bag which held -her books. In addition to this, being strongly built, -he thrashed any boy who laughed at him for -doing so. John Charles was three years older -than his girl friend, and had the distinct beginnings -of a moustache in days when Carnation still -wore her hair in a long plaited tail down her -back—for in those days Gretchen braids were -the fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is curious to remember that, while all the -other girls were Megs and Katies, Madges and -Jennies, Carnation Maybold's first name knew -no diminutive. She was, and has remained, just -Carnation. That is enough. She was fifteen -when John Charles was sent to college. After -that she carried her own books both ways. She -had offers from several would-be successors to -the honourable service, but she accepted none. -Besides, she was thinking of putting her hair up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When John Charles came home in the windy -close of the following March, the first thing he -did was to put the little box which contained his -class medal into his vest pocket, and hasten down -the road to meet Carnation. His father was at -market. His mother (a peevish, complaining, -prettyish woman) was in bed with sick headache, -and not to be disturbed. But there remained -Carnation. The returned scholar asked no better.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The heart of John Charles beat as he kept -the wider side of the turns of the road that he -might the sooner spy her in front of him. She -was only a slip of a school girl and he a penniless -student—but nevertheless his heart beat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Did he love her? No, he knew that he had -never uttered the word in her hearing, and that if -he had, she was too young to know its meaning. -She was just Carnation—and—and, how his -heart beat!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But still the wintry trees stood gaunt and -spectral on either hand. He passed them as in -a dream, his soul bent on the next twist of the -red-gray sandy ribbon of road, that was flung -so unscientifically about among the copses and -pastures.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There she was at last—taller, lissomer than -ever, her green bag swinging in her hand and -a gay lilt of a tune upon her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carnation!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not answer him by any word. Instead, -she stood silent with the song stilled mid-flight -upon her lips. She smiled happily, however, as -he came near.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carnation!" he cried again. And there was -something shining in the lad's eyes which she -had never seen there before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held out the green bag. Then she turned -her elbow towards him with a certain defensive -instinct.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, take my books, John Charles!" she -said, as if he had never been away; and with -no more than that they began to walk homeward -together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you not glad to see me?" he asked presently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, indeed—very glad!" she answered, -looking at the ground; "you will be able to -carry my books again, you see!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who has carried them while I have been away?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carried them myself!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For true?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Honour!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John Charles breathed so long a breath that -it was almost a sigh. Carnation looked at him -curiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, you have grown a moustache," she said, -smiling a quick, radiant smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you—you are different too. What is it?" -he returned, gazing openly at her, as indeed he -had been doing ever since they met. She turned -her face piquantly towards him. It was like a -flower. A faint perfume seemed to breathe about -the boy, making his brain whirl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not grown a moustache, anyway," Carnation -said, tauntingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she roguishly twirled imaginary tips -between her finger and thumb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me see!" said John Charles, drawing -nearer as if to examine into the facts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no," said Carnation hastily, fending him -off with a glance, "I'm grown up now, and it's -different! Besides——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she glanced behind her along the red-gray -ribbon of dusty road, along which for lack of -company the March dust was dancing little jigs of -its own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why different?" began John Charles, thrusting -his hands deep into his pockets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, don't you see, stupid?" she gave her head -a pretty coquettish turn, "I've got my hair up!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After this they walked somewhat moodily along -a while. Or, at least the young man was moody -and silent, while Carnation only smiled sedately, -and something, perhaps a certain bitter easting -in the wind, made her cheeks more fiowerlike -and reminiscent of her name than ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carnation," he said at last, "why are we not -to be friends any more? Why have you grown -away from me? You are three years younger—and -yet—you seem older somehow to-day—years -and years older."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what more do you want—aren't you -carrying my bag?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me about yourself—what have you been -doing?" He changed the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Going to school—let me see, six twenties are -a hundred and twenty. Coming back another -hundred and twenty times. Two hundred and -forty trudges, and the bag growing heavier all -the time! It is quite time you came back, -John Charles!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carnation, dear," with trepidation he ventured -the adjective, "I have something to show you -that nobody has seen—what will you give me -if I show it you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shan't give you anything; but you can -show me and see," was the somewhat -inconsequent reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come here then, by the end of the house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had arrived at Carnation's cottage, and -the consciousness of the eye of Tibbie Lockhart -out of the kitchen window was upon the youth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shan't—show it to me here!" said Carnation, -swinging the bag of books through the open front -door in a casual and school-girlish manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't. I don't want Tibbie to know about -it—nobody but you must see it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you sure nobody has seen it—no girl in -Edinburgh—nobody in Cairn Edward?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one at all—not even my mother, not since -I got it. I kept it for you, Carnation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it </span><em class="italics">very</em><span> pretty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, very pretty! Come in here; you will -be sorry if you don't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I will come—just for a moment!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They went round to the gable of the cottage -where, being sheltered from the wind, a couple of -sentinel Irish yews grew tall and erect. Between -them there was a little bower. John Charles took -the little flat box out of his pocket and opened it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A gold class medal lay within, not fitting very -well on account of a thin blue ribbon which the -proprietor had strung through a clasp at the top.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said Carnation with a gasp, "it </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> lovely. -Is it gold? Why, it has your name on. It is -the medal of the class. How proud your father -and mother will be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she clasped her hands and gazed, but did -not offer to take it in her fingers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, indeed, that they won't," said John Charles -grimly; "they won't ever know, and if they did -they wouldn't care. I am not going to tell them -or any one. I won it for you. All the time -I was working I kept saying to myself, 'If I win -the medal I shall give it to Carnation to wear -round her neck on a blue ribbon—because blue -is her colour——'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but I could not!" cried the girl, going -back a step or two, "I dare not! Any one might -see and read—what is written on it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You needn't wear it outside, Carnation," he -pleaded, in a low tone; "see, I put the ribbon -through it that you might."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> pretty"—her face had a kind of inner -shining upon it, and her eyes glittered darkly—"it -was very nice of you to think about me—not -that I believe for a moment you really did. But, -indeed, indeed, I can't take it——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The face of John Charles Morrison fell. His jaw, -a singularly determined one, began to square itself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," he said, flirting the ribbon out -of the clasp and throwing the box on the ground, -"do you see that pond down there? As sure -as daith" (he used the old school-boy oath of -asseveration) "I'll throw it in that pond if ye -dinna tak' it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something very like a sob came into the lad's -throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I worked so hard for it. And I thought -you would have liked it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do like it—I do—I do!" cried Carnation, -agonised and affrayed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you don't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give it me, then—don't look!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned her back upon him, and for a long -moment her fingers were busy about her neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Now!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She faced about, the light of a showery April -in her eyes. She was smiling and blushing at -the same time. There was just a faint gleam of -blue ribbon where the division of the white collar -came in front of her throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John Charles recognised that the moment for -which he had striven all through the winter had -come. He stooped and kissed her where she -stood. Then he turned on his heel and walked -silently away, leaving her three times Carnation -and a school-girl no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She watched him out of sight, the vivid blush -slowly fading from her face, and then went -demurely within.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where gat ye that ribbon wi' the wee guinea -piece at the end o't?" said guardian Tibbie that -night, suggestively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know; but I promised not to tell!" quoth -the witch, who indeed, twisted the shrewish-tongued -old woman round her finger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I think I can guess," said Tibbie shrewdly; -"gin that blue ribbon wasna coft in Edinbra toon, -I'se string anither gowden guinea upon it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Carnation Maybold only smiled and pouted -her lips, as if at a pleasant memory.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>From sixteen to twenty-six is more than a full -half of the period of life to which we give the -name of girlhood. But at twenty-six Carnation -Maybold was Carnation Maybold still. Yet there -had been no breaking off, no failure in the -steadfastness of that early affection which had sent -John Charles along the dusty road to carry the -school-bag of green baize.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the medallist never returned to college. -During the early falling twilight of the next -Hint-o'-Hairst (or end of harvest), his father, -Gawain Morrison, driving homeward from market -all too mellow, brake neck-bone over the crags of -the Witch's pool.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, his mother being a feeble woman, though -still young and buxom, John Charles had perforce -to bide at home and shoulder the responsibilities of -a farm of two thousand pastoral acres and a rent of -£800, payable twice a year in Cairn Edward town.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a sore burden for such young shoulders, -but John Charles had grit in him, and, what made -his heart glad, he could do most of his work, by -lea rig and pasturage, within sight of a certain -cottage where dwelt the maid with a ribbon of -blue about her neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no possibility of any marriage, nor, -indeed, talk of any between them, and that for two -good reasons: Gawain Morrison had died in debt. -He was "behindhand at the Bank," and his farm -and stock were left to his widow at her own -disposition, unless she should marry again, in -which case they were willed to his son John -Charles Morrison, presently student of arts in -the University of Edinburgh. The will had been -made during the one winter that son had spent -away from home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John Charles' bitter hour in the bank at Cairn -Edward was sweetened by the sympathy and -kindliness of Henry Marchbanks, who, being one -of the best judges of character in Scotland, saw -cause to give this young man a chance to -discharge his father's liabilities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At twenty-five John Charles was once more -a free man, and there was a substantial balance -to his mother's credit in the bank of Cairn Edward. -Penny of his own he had not received one for -all his five years' work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mrs. Morrison was that most foolish of -womankind—an old woman striving to appear -young. She had taken a strong dislike to the -girl mistress of the white cottage at her gates, -and was never tired of railing at her pretensions -to beauty, at her lightheadedness, and at the -suitors who stayed their horses for a word or -a flower from across the cropped yew hedge of -Carnation Maybold's cottage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But John Charles, steadfast in all things, was -particularly admirable in his silences. He let -his mother rail on, and then, at the quiet hour -of e'en stole down to the dyke-side for a "word." He -never entered Carnation's dwelling, nor did -he even pass the girdling hedge of yew and privet. -But there was one place where the defences were -worn low. Behind the well curb occurred this -breach of continuity in the dead engineer's hedges, -and to this place night after night through the -years, that quiet steadfast lover, John Charles -Morrison, came to touch the hand of his mistress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not always meet him. Sometimes she -had girl friends with her in the cottage, sometimes -she had been carried off to a merry-making in -Cairn Edward, to return under suitable escort -in the evening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But even then Carnation had a comfortable -sense of safety, for ever since one unforgotten -night, Carnation knew that in any danger she -had only to raise her voice to bring to her rescue -a certain tall broad-shouldered ghost, which with -attendant collies haunted the gray hillsides.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That night was one on which a tramp, denied -an alms, had seized the girl by the arm within -half a mile of her home. And at the voice of -her sharp crying, a different John Charles from -any she had ever seen had swung himself over -the hillside dyke, and descended like an avenging -whirlwind upon the assailant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet so secretive is the country lover, that few -save an odd shepherd or two of his own suspected -the comradeship which existed between these two. -Carnation was in great request at concerts and -church bazaars in the little neighbouring town; -she even went to a local "assembly" or two every -winter, under the sheltering wing of a school friend -who had married early.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John Charles did not dance, so he was not -asked to these. He was thought, indeed, to be -rather a grave young fellow, busied with his farm -and his books. No one connected his name with -that of his fair and sprightly neighbour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet somehow, in spite of many opportunities, -Carnation Maybold did not marry. She was -bright, cultivated, winsome, and certainly the -prettiest girl for miles around.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you waiting for a prince?" little Mrs. George -Walter, her friend of the assemblies, had -said to her more than once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," smiled Carnation, "the true Prince!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose that is why you always wear a -ribbon of true blue?" retorted her friend. "Do let -me see what is at the end of it—ah, you will not. -I think you are very mean, Carnation. All is over -between us from this moment. I'm sure I came -and told </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> as soon as ever George spoke!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But perhaps," said Carnation quietly, "</span><em class="italics">my</em><span> -George has not yet spoken!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if he hasn't, why don't you make him," -said her friend with vehemence, "or else why -have eyes like those been thrown away upon you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have worn this nearly ten years!" said -Carnation, a little wistfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carnation Maybold," said her friend indignantly, -"you ought to be ashamed! And so it was -for the sake of that school-girl's split sixpence -that you refused Harry Foster, whose father has -an estate of his own, and Kenneth Walker, the -surveyor, as well as—oh, I have no patience with -such silly sentiment!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carnation smiled even more quietly than usual.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gracie," she said, "if I am content, I don't -see what difference it can make to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You ought to be married—you oughtn't to -live alone with only an old woman to look after -you. You are wasting the best years of your -life——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gracie, dear," said Carnation, "you mean to -be kind; but I ask you not to say any more -about this. There are worse things that may -happen to a woman, than that she should wait and -wait—aye, even if she should die waiting!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was the evening of the August day on which -Mrs. Walter had spoken thus to Carnation that -John Charles came cottagewards slowly and -gloomily. He had been thinking bitter thoughts, -and at last had taken a resolve that was likely -to cost him dear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the warm light of evening the girl, who stood -at the farther side of the gap, seemed wondrously -beautiful. The school-girl look had long since -passed away. Only the fresh rose on the cheeks, the -depths in the eyes (as if a cloud shadowed them), -the lissom bend of the young body towards him -were the same. But the hair was waved and -plaited about the head in a larger and nobler -fashion. The contours were a little fuller, and -the lips, perfect as ever in shape, were stiller, -and the smile on them at once more assured and -more sedate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carnation, I cannot hold you any longer to -your promise!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why not, John; are you tired of me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not one of those who grow tired, dear," -the young man's voice was so low none could hear -it but the one listener. "I will never grow -tired—you know that. But I waste the best years -of your life. You are beautiful, and the time is -passing. You might marry any one——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you any particular one in your mind?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The question at once spurred and startled him. -He moved his feet on the soft grass of the meadow -with a certain embarrassment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Carnation; my mother was speaking -to me to-night of Harry Foster of Carnsalloch. -His father has told her of his love for you. She -says I am keeping you from accepting him. I -have come to release you from any promise, -Carnation, spoken or implied."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no promise, John—save that I love -you, and will never marry any one else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if I went away you might—you might -change your mind. I am thinking of West -Australia! I am making nothing of it here. All -is as much my mother's as it was the day my -father died! I can get her a good 'grieve' to -take charge, and go in the spring!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl winced a little, but did not speak for -a while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," she said at last, "you must do as you -think best. I shall wait all the same. Thank -God, there is no law against a woman waiting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carnation, do you mean it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gap was a gap still; but both the lovers -were on one side of it, and the night was -dark about them. Indeed, they were so close -each to the other that there was no need of -light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I go, I shall make a home for you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"However long it is, I shall be ready when -you want me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carnation!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"John!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so, as it was in the beginning, the old, old -tale was retold beneath the breathing rustle of -the orchard trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet their hearts were sore when they parted, -because the springtime was so near, and the home -they longed for seemed so very far.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Carnation slept in a little garret room with a -gable window. She had chosen it, because she -liked to look down on John Charles' fields and -on the low place in the hedge where he always -stood waiting for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The waning moon had risen late, and Carnation -undressed without a candle. Having said her -prayers, she stole into bed. But sleep would not -come, and, her heart being right sore within her, -the tears forced up her eyelids instead, as it is -woman's safety that they should.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lay and sobbed her heart out because John -was going away. But through the tears that wet -her pillow certain words she had been singing -in the choir on Sunday forced themselves:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Weeping may endure for a night,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But joy cometh in the morning."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Nevertheless, Carnation must have sobbed herself -to sleep, for it was nigh the dawn when she was -awakened by something that flicked her lattice at -regular intervals. It could not be a bird. It -was too sharp and regular for that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Could it be——?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Impossible!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had never come before at such a time! -If it were indeed he, there must be some terrible -news to tell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carnation rose hastily, and threw a loose cloak -about her shoulders. Then she went and opened -the little French lattice with the criss-cross -diamond panes. The dawn was coming slowly -up out of the east, and the gray fields were turning -rosy beneath her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A dark figure filled up the low place in the hedge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carnation, I had something to tell you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it bad news? I cannot bear it, if it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, the best of news! I am not going at -Whitsunday to Australia. My mother told me -last night that she is to be married at the New -Year. He is a rich man—Harry Foster's father. -She is going to live at Carnsalloch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" said Carnation, doubtfully, not seeing -all that this sudden change meant to them both.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, then, dearest," the voice of John Charles -Morrison shook with emotion, "we can be married -as soon as we like after that. The farm and -everything on it is ours—yours and mine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Carnation's brain reeled, and she found herself -without a word to say. Only the sound of the -happy singing ran in her head:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Joy cometh in the morning—joy cometh in the -morning!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why don't you speak, Carnation? Are you -not glad?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The voice down at the gap was anxious now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am too far away from you to say anything, -but I am glad, very glad, dear John!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will be ready by Whitsunday?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be ready by Whitsunday!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a pause. The light came clearer -in the east. John Charles could see the girl's -fresh complexion thrown up by the dark cloak, -an edging of lace, white and dainty, just showing -beneath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carnation, I wish I could kiss you!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will this do instead?" she answered him, -smiling through the wetness of her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she lifted up the old worn class medal -she had carried so long on its blue ribbon, and -kissed it openly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And that had perforce to "do" John Charles—at -least, for that time of asking.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="jaimsie"><span class="bold large">JAIMSIE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As I drove home the other day I saw that old -lazybones Jacob Irving seated in the sun with -a whole covey of boys round him. He had his -pocket-knife in his hand, and was busy mending -a "gird." The "gird," or wooden hoop, -belonged to Will Bodden, and its precedence in -medical treatment had been secured by Will's -fists. There was quite a little hospital ward -behind, of toys all awaiting diagnosis in strict -order of primacy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here was Dick Dobie with a new blade to put into -his shilling knife. A shilling knife, Jacob assured -him, is not fitted for cutting down fishing rods. -It is however, excellent as a saw when used on -smaller timber. Next came Peter Cheesemonger, -who was in waiting with a model schooner, the -rising of which had met with an accident. And -there hurrying down from the cottage on the -Brae, was one of the younger Allan lasses with -her mother's "wag-at-the-wa'" clock. The -pendulum had wagged to such purpose that it had -swung itself out of its right mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After I had left behind me this vision of old -Jacob Irving seated on the wall of the boys' -playground at the village school, I fell into a -muse upon the narrowness of the line which in -our Scottish parishes, divides the "Do-Everythings" -from the "Do-Nothings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could give myself the more completely to this -train of thought that I had finished my rounds -for the day, and had now nothing to do except to -look forward to seeing Nance, and to the excellent -dinner for which the shrewd airs of the moorland -were providing internal accommodation of quite -a superior character.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The conditions of Scottish life are generally -so strenuous, and the compulsions of "He that -will not work, neither shall he eat" so absolute -that we cannot afford more than one local Do-Nothing -in a village or rural community. Equally -certainly, however, one is necessary. The business -of the commonwealth could not be carried on -without him. Besides, he is needed to point the -indispensable moral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's that guid-for-naething Jacob Irvin' -sittin' wi' a' the misleared boys o' the neighbourhood -aboot him!" I can hear a douce goodwife -say to her gossip. "Guid peety his puir wife -and bairns! Guidman, lay ye doon that paper -an awa' to your wark, or ye'll sune be nae better—wi' -your Gledstane and your speeches and your -smokin'! Think shame o' yersel', guidman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the community grows larger, however, there -is less and less room for the amiable Do-Nothing. -He is, indeed, only seen to perfection in a village -or rural parish. In Cairn Edward, for instance -which thinks itself quite a town, he does not -attain the general esteem and almost affectionate -reprobation which, in my native Whinnyliggate, -follow Jacob Irving about like his shadow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a town like Cairn Edward a local Do-Nothing -is apt to attach himself to a livery stable, and -there to acquire a fine coppery nose and a -permanent "dither" about the knees. He is spoken -of curtly and even disrespectfully as "that waister -Jock Bell." In cities he becomes a mere matter -for the police, and the facetious reporter chronicles -his two-hundredth appearance before the magistrate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in Whinnyliggate, in Dullarg, in -Crosspatrick, and in the surrounding parishes, the -conditions for the growth of the Do-Nothing -approach as near perfection as anything merely -mundane can be expected to do. Jacob Irving -is hardly a typical specimen, for he has a trade. -The genuine Do-Nothing should have none. It -is true that Jacob's children might reply, like the -boy when asked if his father were a Christian, -"Yes, but he does not work at it much!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jacob is a shoe-maker—or rather shoe-mender. -For I have never yet been able to trace an entire -pair of Jacob's foot-gear on any human extremities. -It does not fit his humour to be so utilitarian. -He has, however, made an excellent toy pair for -the feet of little Jessie Lockhart's doll, with soles, -heels, uppers, tongues, and lacing gear all complete. -He spent, to my personal knowledge, an entire -morning in showing her (on the front step of her -father's manse) how to take them off and put them -on again. And in the future he will never meet -Jessie on the King's highway without stopping and -gravely asking her if any repairs are yet requisite. -When such are necessary they will, without doubt, -receive his best attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had not, however, made a study of Jacob -Irving for any considerable period without -exploding the vulgar opinion that the parish -Do-Nothing is an idle or a lazy man. Nay, to repeat -my initial paradox, the Do-Nothing is the only -genuine Do-Everything.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When on a recent occasion I gave Jacob, in -return for the pleasure of his conversation, a -"lift" in my doctor's gig, he talked to me very -confidentially of his "rounds." At first I imagined -in my ignorance that, like the tailors of the -parishes round about, he went from farm to farm -prosecuting his calling and cobbling the shoes of -half the countryside. I was buttressed in this -opinion by his expressed pity or contempt for -wearers of "clogs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's anither puir body wi' a pair o' clogs on -his feet," Jacob would say; "and to think that for -verra little mair than the craitur paid for them, I wad -fit him wi' as soond a pair o' leather-soled shoon -as were ever ta'en frae amang tanners' bark!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had also seen him start out with a thin-bladed -cobbler's knife and the statutory piece of "roset" -or resin wrapped in a palm's-breadth of soft leather. -But, alas, all was a vain show. The knife was to -be used in delicate surgical work upon the deceased -at a pig-killing, and the resin was for splicing -fishing-rods.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a while I began by severe study to get -to the bottom of a Do-Nothing's philosophy. To -do the appointed task for the performance of which -duty calls, man waits, and money will be paid, -that is work to be avoided by every means—by -procrastination, by fallacious promise, by prevarication, -and (sad to have to say it) by the plainest -of plain lying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whatever brings in money in the exercise of a -trade, whatever must be finished within a given -time, that needs the co-operation of others or -prolonged and consecutive effort on his own part, is -merely anathema to the Do-Nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the other hand, no house in the parish is -too distant for him to attend at the "settin' o' -the yaird" (the delving must, however, be done -previously). On such occasions the Do-Nothing -revels in long wooden pins with string wrapped -mysteriously about them. He can turn you out -the neatest shaped bed of "onions" and "syboes," -the straightest rows of cabbages, and potato drills -so level that the whole household feels that it must -walk the straight path in order not to shame them. -The wayfaring man though a fool, looks over the -dyke, and says: "Thae dreels are Jacob's—there's -nane like them in the countryside!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This at least is Jacob's way of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But though all this is by the way of introduction -to the particular Do-Nothing I have in my -eye, it is not of Jacob that I am going to write. -Jacob is indeed an enticing subject, and from the -point of view of his wife, might be treated very -racily. But, though I afterwards made Margate -Irving's acquaintance (and may one day put her -opinions on record), I have other and higher game -in my mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This is none other than the Reverend James -Tacksman, B.A., licentiate of the Original Marrow -Kirk of Scotland. In fact, a clerical Do-Nothing -of the highest class.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, to begin with, I will aver that there is -no scorn in all this. "Jaimsie" is more to me -than many worthy religious publicists, beneficed, -parished, churched, stipended, and sustentationed -to the eyes. He was not a very great man. He -was in no sense a successful man, but—he was -"Jaimsie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I admit that my zeal is that of the pervert. It -was not always thus with me when "Jaimsie" was -alive, and perhaps my enthusiasm is so full-bodied -from a sense that it is impossible for the gentle -probationer to come and quarter himself upon Nance -and myself for (say) a period of three months in -the winter season, a thing he was quite capable of -doing when in the flesh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the days before I was converted to higher -views of human nature as represented in the person -of "Jaimsie," I was even as the vulgar with regard -to him. I admit it. I even openly scoffed, and -retailed to many the story of Jamie and my father, -Saunders McQuhirr of Drumquhat, with which I -shall conclude. I used to tell it rather well at -college, the men said. At least they laughed -sufficiently. But now I shall not try to add, alter, -amend, or extenuate, as is the story-teller's wont -with his favourites. For in sackcloth and ashes -I have repented me, and am at present engaged -in making my honourable amend to "Jaimsie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For almost as long as I can remember the -Reverend James Tacksman, B.A., was in the habit -of coming to my father's house, and the news that -he was in view on the "far brae-face" used to put -my mother into such a temper that "dauded" heads -and cuffed ears were the order of the day. The -larger fry of us cleared out promptly to the barn -and stack-yard till the first burst of the storm -was over. Even my father, accustomed as he was -to carry all matters ecclesiastical with a high -hand, found it convenient to have some harness -to clean in the stable, or the lynch-pin of a cart -to replace in the little joiner's shop where he -passed so much of his time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll no hae the craitur aboot the hoose," my -mother would cry; "I telled ye sae the last time -he was here—sax weeks in harvest it was—and -then had maist to be shown the door. (Haud oot -o' my road, weans! Can ye no keep frae rinnin' -amang my feet like sae mony collie whaulps? -Tak' ye that!) Hear ye this, guidman, if ye -willna speak to the man, by my faith I wull. -Mary McQuhirr is no gaun to hae the bread ta'en -oot o' the mooths o' her innocent bairns——(Where -in the name o' fortune, Alec, are ye gaun wi' -that soda bannock? Pit it doon this meenit, or -I'll tak' the tings to ye!). Na, nor I will be run -aff my feet to pleesure ony sic useless, -guid-for-naething seefer as Jaimsie Tacksman!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment a faint rapping made itself -audible at the front door, never opened except -on the highest state occasions, as when the minister -called, and at funerals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My mother (I can see her now) gave a hasty -"tidy" to her gray hair and adjusted her -white-frilled "mutch" about her still winsome brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">And hoo are ye the day, Maister Tacksman, -an' it's a lang, lang season since we've had the -pleasure o' a veesit frae you!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Could that indeed be my mother's voice, so -lately upraised in denunciation over a stricken -and cowering world? I could not understand it -then, and to tell the truth I don't quite yet. I -have, however, asked her to explain, and this -is what she says:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Weel, ye see, Alec, it was this way" (she is -pleased when I require any points for my "scribin'," -though publicly she scoffs at them and declares -it will ruin my practice if the thing becomes -known), "ye see I had it in my mind to the last -minute to deny the craitur. But when I gaed to -open the door, there stood Jaimsie wi' his wee bit -shakin' hand oot an' his threadbare coatie hingin' -laich aboot his peetifu' spindle shanks, and his -weel-brushit hat, an' the white neck-claith that -wanted doin' up. And I kenned that naebody -could laundry it as weel as me. My fingers juist -fair yeukit (itched) to be at the starchin' o't. And -faith, maybes there was something aboot the craitur -too—he was sae cruppen in upon himsel', sae -wee-bookit, sae waesome and yet kindly aboot the e'en, -that I juist couldna say him nay."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That is my mother's report of her feelings in -the matter. She does not add that the ten minutes -or quarter of an hour in which she had been -able to give the fullest and most public expression -to her feelings had allowed most of the steam of -indignation to blow itself off. My father, who was -a good judge, gave me, early in my married life, -some excellent advice on this very point, which -I subjoin for the edification of the general public.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never bottle a woman up, Alec," he said, -meditatively. "What Vesuvius and Etna and thae -ither volcanoes are to this worl', the legeetimate -exercise o' her tongue is to a woman. It's a -naitural function, Alec. Ye may bridle the ass or -the mule, but—gie the tongue o' a woman (as -it were) plenty o' elbow-room! Gang oot o' the -hoose—like Moses to the backside o' the wilderness -gin ye like, and when ye come in she will be as -quaite as pussy; and if ever ye hae to contradick -your mairried wife, Alec, let it be in deeds, no in -words. Gang your road gin ye hae made up -your mind, immovable like the sun, the mune, and -the stars o' heeven in their courses—but, as ye -value peace dinna be aye crying' 'Aye,' when your -wife cries 'No'!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Which things may be wisdom. But to the tale -of our Jaimsie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sometimes, moreover, even the natural man in -my kindly and long-suffering father uprose against -the preacher. Jaimsie knew when he was -comfortable, and no mere hint of any delicate sort -would make him curtail his visit by one day. -I can remember him creeping about the farm of -Drumquhat all that summer, a book in his hand, -contemplating the works of God as witnessed -chiefly in the growth of the "grosarts." (We -always blamed him—quite unjustly, I believe—for -eating the "silver-gray" gooseberries on the sly.) -Now he would stand half an hour and gaze up -among the branches of an elm, where a cushat was -tirelessly </span><em class="italics">coorooring</em><span> to his mate. Anon you would -see him apparently deeply engaged in counting the -sugar-plums in the orchard. After a little he -would be found seated on the red shaft of a cart -in the stackyard, jotting down in a shabby -notebook ideas for the illustrations of sermons never -to be written; or if written, doomed never to -be preached. His hat was always curled up at -the back and pulled down at the front, and till -my mother made down an old pair of my father's -Sunday trousers for him (and put them beside -his bed while he slept), you could see in a good -light the reflection of your hand on the knees of -his "blacks." It is scarcely necessary to say that -Jaimsie never referred to the transposition, nor, -indeed, in all probability, so much as discovered it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jaimsie was used to conduct family worship -morning and evening in the house of his sojourn, -as a kind of quit-rent for his meal of meat and his -prophet's chamber. To the ordinary reading of -the Word he was wont to subjoin an "exposeetion" -of some disputed or prophetical passage. -The whole exercises never took less than an hour, -if Jaimsie were left to the freedom of his own -will—which, as may be inferred, was extremely awkward -in a busy season when the corn was dry in the -stock or when the scythes flashed rhythmically like -level silver flames among the lush meadow grass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Finally, therefore, a compromise had to be -effected. My father took the morning diet of -worship, but Jaimsie had his will of us in the -evening. I can see them yet—those weariful -sederunts, when even my father wrestled with -sleep like Samson with the Philistines, while -my mother periodically nodded forward with -a lurch, and, recovering herself with a start, the -next moment looked round haughtily to see -which of us was misbehaving. Meanwhile the -kitchen was all dark, save where before Jaimsie -the great Bible lay open between two candles, -and on the hearth the last peat of the evening -glowed red.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Many is the fine game of draughts I have had -with my brother Rob and Christie Wilson our -herd lad, by putting the "dam-brod" behind the -chimney jamb where my father and mother could -not see it, and moving the pieces by the light -of the red peat ash. I am ashamed to think on -it now, but then it seemed the only thing to do -which would keep us from sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And meantime Jaimsie prosed on, his gentle -sing-song working its wicked work on mother -like a lullaby, and my father sending his nails -into the palms of his hands that he might not -be shamed before us all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I remember particularly how Jaimsie addressed -us for a whole week on his favourite text in he -Psalms, "The hill of God is as the hill of -Bashan—an high hill, as the hill of Bashan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And in the pauses of crowning our men and -scuffling for the next place at the draught board, -we could catch strange words and phrases which -come to me yet with a curious wistful thrilling -of the heart. Such are "White as snow on -Salmon"—"That mount Sinai in Arabia"—"Ye -mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither -let there be rain upon you, nor fields of offering."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as a concluding of the whole matter we -sang this verse out of Francis Roos's psalter:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Ye mountains great, wherefore was it</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>That ye did skip like rams?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>And wherefore was it, little hills,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>That ye did leap like lambs?"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was all double-Dutch to me then, but now -I can see that Jaimsie must have been marshalling -the mountains of Scripture to bear solemn -witness against an evil and exceedingly -somnolent generation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once when my mother snored audibly Jaimsie -looked up, but at that very moment she awoke, -and with great and remarkable presence of mind -promptly cuffed Rob, who in his turn knocked -the draught-board endways, just as I had his last -man cornered, to our everlasting disgrace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My mother asked us next day pointedly where -we thought we were going to, and if we were of -opinion that there would be any dam-brods in -hell. I offered no remarks, but Rob—who was -always an impudent boy—got on the other side -of the dyke from my mother and answered that -there would be no snorers there either.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From an early age he was a lad of singularly sound -judgments, my brother Rob. He stayed out in the -barn till after my mother was asleep that night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last, however, even my father grew tired -of Jaimsie. He stayed full three months on this -occasion. Autumnal harvest fields were bared of -stooks, the frost began to glisten on the stiff turnip -shaws, the wreathed nets were put up for the -wintering sheep, and still the indefatigable Jaimsie -stayed on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I remember yet the particular morning when, -at long and last, Jaimsie left us. All night almost -there had been in the house the noise as of a -burn running over hollow stones, with short solid -interruptions like the sound of a distant mallet -stricken on wood. It came from my father's and -mother's room. I knew well what it meant. The -sound like running water was my mother trying to -persuade my father to something against his will, -and the far-away mallet thuds were his -mono-syllabic replies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This time it was my mother who won.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the harvest bustle was over, Jaimsie had -resumed his practice of taking worship in the -mornings, but any of us who had urgent work -on hand could obtain, by proper representation, -a dispensing ordinance. These were much sought -after, especially when Jaimsie started to tackle -the Book of Daniel "in his ordinary," as he -phrased it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this Monday morning, to the general surprise, -my father sat down in the chair of state himself -and reached the Bible from the shelf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will take family worship this morning, -Mr. Tacksman," he said, with great sobriety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then we knew that something extraordinary -was coming, and I was glad I had not "threeped" -to my mother that I had seen some of the Nether -Neuk sheep in our High Park—which would have -been quite true, for I had put them there myself -on purpose the night before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was during the prayer that the blow fell. -My father had a peculiarly distinct and solemn -way with him in supplication; and now the -words fell distinct as hammer strokes on our ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He prayed for the Church of God in all -covenanted lands; for all Christian peoples of every -creed (here Jaimsie, faithful Abdiel, always said -"Humph"); for the heathen without God and -without hope; for the family now present and for -those of the family afar off. Then, as was his -custom, he approached the stranger (who was no -stranger) within our gates.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And do Thou, Lord, this day vouchsafe journeying -mercies to Thy servant who is about to leave us. -Grant him favourable weather for his departure, -good speed on his way, and a safe return to his -own country!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A kind of gasping sigh went all about the -kitchen. I knew that my mother had her eye -on my father to keep him to his pledged word -of the night season. So I dared not look round.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we all ached to know how Jaimsie would -take it, and we all joined fervently in the -supplication which promised us a couple of hours more -added to our day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came the Amen, and all rose to their -feet. Jaimsie seemed a little dazed, but took -the matter like a scholar and a gentleman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held out his hand to my father with his -usual benevolent smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not know that I had mentioned it," -he said, "but I was thinking of leaving you -to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And that was all he said, but forthwith went -upstairs to pack his shabby little black bag.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My father stood a while as if shamed; then, -when we heard Jaimsie's feet trotting overhead, -he turned somewhat grimly to my mother. On -his face was an expression as if he had just -taken physic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said, "you will be easier in your -mind now, Mary." This he said, well knowing -that the rat of remorse was already getting his -incisors to work upon his wife's conscience. She -stamped her foot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Saunders McQuhirr," she said in suppressed -tones, "to be a Christian man, ye are the maist -aggrevatin'——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at that moment my father went out through -the door, saying no further word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My mother shooed us all out of the house like -intrusive chickens, and I do not know for certain -what she did next. But Rob, looking through -the blind of the little room where she kept her -house-money, saw her fumbling with her purse. -And when at last Jaimsie, having addressed his -bag to be sent with the Carsphairn carrier into -Ayrshire (where dwelt the friends next on his -visiting list), came out with his staff in one hand, -he was dabbing his eyes with a clean handkerchief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, after that, all that I remember is the -pathetic figure of the little probationer lifting up -a hand in silent blessing upon the house which -had sheltered him so long; and so taking his -lonely way over the hillside towards the northern -coach road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When my father came in from the sheep at -mid-day, he waited till grace was over, and then, -looking directly at my mother, he said: "Weel, -Mary, how mony o' your pound notes did he -carry away in his briest-pocket this time?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shall never forget the return and counter -retort which followed. My mother was vexed—one -of the few times that I can remember seeing -her truly angered with her husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would give you one advice, Saunders -McQuhirr," she said, "and that is, from this forth, -to be mindful of your own business."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will tak' that advice, Mary," he answered -slowly; "but my heart is still sore within me -this day because I took the last advice you gied -me!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And it was destined to be yet sorer for that -same cause. Jaimsie never was within our doors -again. He abode in Ayrshire and the Upper -Ward all that winter and spring, and it was not -till the following back-end, and in reply to a -letter and direct invitation from my conscience-stricken -father, that he announced that, all being -well and the Lord gracious, he would be with -us the following Friday.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But on the Thursday night a great snow storm -came on, and the drift continued long unabated. -We all said that Jaimsie would doubtless be safely -housed, and we did not look for him to arrive -upon the day of his promise. However, by -Monday, when the coach was again running, my -mother began to be anxious, and all the younger -of us went forth to try and get news of him. We -heard that he had left Carsphairn late on the -Thursday forenoon, meaning to stop overnight -at the shepherd's shieling at the southern end -of Loch Dee. But equally certainly he had never -reached it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not till Tuesday morning early that -Jaimsie was found under a rock near the very -summit of the Dungeon hill, his plaid about him -and his frozen hand clasping his pocket Bible. -It was open, and his favourite text was thrice -underscored.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">The hill of God is as the hill of Bashan; an -high hill, as the hill of Bashan.</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, there is no doubt that the little forlorn -"servant of God" has indeed gotten some new -light shed upon the text, since the dark hour when -he sat down to rest his weary limbs upon the -snow-clad summit of the Dungeon of Buchan.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="beadle-and-martyr"><span class="bold large">BEADLE AND MARTYR</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I sometimes give it as a reason for a certain -lack of uniformity in church attendance, that I -cannot away with the new-fangled organs, hymns, -and chaunts one meets with there. I love them -not, in comparison, that is, with the old psalm -tunes. They do not make the heart beat quicker -and more proudly, like Kilmarnock and Coleshill, -Duke Street and Old 124th.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nance, however, is so far left to herself as to -say that this is only an excuse, and that my -real reason is the pleasure I have in thinking that -all the people must perforce listen to a sermon, -while I can put my feet upon another chair and -read anything I like. This, however, is rank -insult, such as only wives long wedded dare to -indulge in. Besides, it shows, by its imputation -of motives, to what lengths a sordid and -ill-regulated imagination will go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Moreover, I have never grown accustomed to -the hours of town churches, and I consider, both -from a medical and from a spiritual point of view, -that afternoon services in town churches are -directly responsible for the spread of indigestion, -as well as of a spirit of religious infidelity -throughout our beloved land.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>(Nance is properly scandalised at this last -remark, and says that she hopes people will -understand that I only believe about half of what -I put down on paper when I get a pen in my -hand. She complains that she is often asked -to explain some of my positions at afternoon teas. -I say it serves her right for attending such gatherings -of irresponsible gossip, tempered with boiled -tannin. It is easy to have the last word with -Nance—here.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But after all the chief thing that I miss when -I go to church is just Willie McNair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sermon is nowadays both shorter and -better. The singing is good of its kind, and -I can always read a psalm or a paraphrase if -the hymn prove too long, or, as is often the case, -rather washy in sentiment. The children's address -is really designed for children, and the prayers -do not exceed five minutes in length. But—I -look in vain for Willie McNair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alas! Willie lies out yonder on the green -knowe, his wife Betty by his side, and four feet -of good black mould over his coffin-lid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Willie was just our beadle, and he had a story. -When I am setting down so many old things, if -I forget thee, Willie McNair, may my right hand -forget his cunning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ah, Willie, though you never were a "church-officer," -though you never heard the Word, it is -you, you alone that I miss. I just cannot think -of the kirk without you. Grizzled, gnarled, -bow-shouldered of week-days, what a dignity of port, -what a solemnising awe, what a processional -tread was thine on Sabbaths! We had only one -service in the Kirk on the Hill in my youth. -But, speaking in the vulgar tongue, that one -was a "starcher."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It included the "prefacing" of a psalm, often -extending over quite as long a period of time as -an ordinary modern sermon, a "lecture," which -as a rule (if "himsel'" was in fettle) lasted about -three quarters of an hour. Then after that the -sermon proper was begun without loss of time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now I cannot say, speaking "from the heart -to the heart" (a favourite expression of Willie's), -that I regret the loss of all this. I was but a boy, -and the torment of having to sit still for from -two hours and a half to three hours on a hard -seat, close-packed and well-watched to keep me -out of mischief, has made even matrimony seem -light and easy. How mere Episcopalians and -other untrained persons get through the sorrows -and disappointments incident to human life I do -not know.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not till the opening of the Sabbath-school -by Mr. Osbourne, however, that I came to know -Willie well. Hitherto he had been as inaccessible -and awestriking as the minister's neckcloth. And -of that I have a story to tell. I think what made -me a sort of advanced thinker in these early -days, was once being sent by my father to the -lodgings of the minister who was to "supply" on -a certain Sabbath morning. The manse must -have been shut for repairs and "himsel'" on his -holidays. At any rate, the minister was stopping -with Miss Bella McBriar in the little white house -below the Calmstone Brig. Miss Bella showed -me in with my missive, and there, on the morning -of the Holy Day, before a common unsanctified -glass tacked to a wall, with a lathery razor in his -hand, in profane shirt-sleeves, stood the minister, -shaving himself! His neckcloth, that was to -appear and shine so glorious above the cushions -of the pulpit, hung limp and ignominious over -the back of a chair. A clay pipe lay across the -ends of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was the beginning of the mischief, and -if I ever take to a criminal career, here was the -first and primal cause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shortly after I went to Sabbath-school, and -having been well trained by my father in -controversial divinity, and drilled by my mother in -the Catechism, I found myself in a fair way of -distinguishing myself; but for all that, I cannot -truly say that I ever got over the neckcloth on -the back of Miss McBriar's chair. When I aired -my free-thinking opinions before my father, and -he shut me off by an appeal to authority, I kept -silence and hugged myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That may be a good enough argument," I -said to myself, "but—I have seen a minister's -neckcloth hung over the back of a chair, and -shaving-soap on his chafts on Sabbath morning. -How can you believe in revealed religion after -that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I had so much of solid common-sense, -even in these my salad days, that I refrained from -saying these things to my father. Indeed, I would -not dare to say them now, even if I believed them, -Willie McNair regarded the Sabbath-school -much as I did. To both of us it was simply -an imposition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Willie thought so for two reasons—first and -generally, because it was an innovation; and -secondly, because he had to clean up the kirk -after it. I agreed with him, because I was -compelled to attend—the farm cert being delayed a -whole hour in order that I might have the privilege -of religious instruction by the senior licensed -grocer of the little town. This gentleman had -only one way of imparting knowledge. That was -with the brass-edged binding of his pocket Bible. -Even at that time I preferred the limp Oxford -morocco. And so would you, if something so -unsympathetic as brass corners were applied to -the sides of your head two or three times every -Sunday afternoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After several years of this experience, I passed -into Henry Marchbank's class and was happy. -But that is quite another chapter, and has nothing -to do with Willie McNair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, Sabbath-school was over about three -o'clock, and our conveyance did not start till -four. That is the way I became attached to -Willie. I used to stay and help him to clean the -kirk. This is the way he did it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>First, he unfrocked himself of his broadcloth -dignity by hanging his coat upon a nail in the -vestry. Then he put on an apron which covered -him from gray chin-beard to the cracks in the -uppers of his shining shoes. Into the breast of -this envelope he thrust a duster large enough for -a sheet. It was, in fact, a section of a departed -pulpit swathing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, muttering quite scriptural maledictions, -and couching them in language entirely Biblical, -Willie proceeded to visit the pews occupied by -each class, restoring the "buiks" he had -previously piled at the head of each seat to their -proper places on the book-board in front, and -scrutinising the woodwork for inscriptions in -lead-pencil. Then he swept the crumbs and apple-cores -carefully off the floor and delivered judgment at -large.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dinna ken what Maister Osbourne was -thinkin' on to begin sic a Popish whigmaleery as -this Sabbath-schule! A disgrace an' a mockin' -in the hoose o' God! What kens the like o' -Sammle Borthwick aboot the divine decrees? -When I, mysel', that has heard them treated on -for forty year under a' the Elect Ministers o' the -Land, can do no more than barely understand -them to this day! And a wheen silly lasses, wi' -gum-floo'ers in their bonnets to listen to bairns -hummerin' ower 'Man's Chief End'! It's eneuch -to gar decent Doctor Syminton turn in his grave! -'Man's Chief End'—faith—it's wumman's chief -end that they're thinkin' on, the madams; they -think I dinna see them shakin' their gum-floo'ers -and glancing their e'en in the direction o' the -onmarriet teacher bodies——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And such are all they that put their trust in -them!" concluded Willie, somewhat irrelevantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Laddie, come doon out o' the pulpit. I canna -lippen (trust) ony body to dust that, bena mysel'! -Gang and pick up the conversation lozengers aff -the floor o' the Young Weemen's Bible Cless!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Printed words can give small indication of the -intense bitterness and mordant satire of Willie's -speech as he uttered these last words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet Willie was far from being a hater of women -kind. Indeed, the end of all his moralising was -ever the same.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's my ain guid wife—was there ever a -woman like her? Snod as a new preen, yet nocht -gaudy, naething ken-speckle. If only the young -weemen nooadays were like Betty, they wad hae -nae need o' gum-floo'ers an' ither abominations. -Na, nor yet Bible clesses! Faith, set them up! -It wad better become them to sit them doon wi' -their Bibles in their laps and the grace o' God -in their hearts, an' tak' a lesson to themsel's -oot o' Paaal!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here Willie dusted the pulpit cushions, vigorously -shaking them as a terrier does a rat, and then -carefully brushing them all in one direction, in -order that, as he said, "the fell may a' lie the -yae way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Willie was no eye servant. No spider took -hold with her hands and was in the Palace of -Willie's King. Dust had no habitation there, -and if a man did not clean his boots on the mat -before entering, Willie went to him personally and -told him his probable chances of a happy hereafter. -These were but few and evil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then having got the "shine" to fall as he -wanted it, and the dark purple velvet overhang, -pride of his heart, to sit to a nicety, Willie lifted -up the heavy tassels, and at the same time resumed -the thread of his discourse, standing there in the -pulpit with the very port of a minister, and in his -speech a point and pith that was all his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, Paul," (he always pronounced it </span><em class="italics">Paaal</em><span>)—"aye, -Paaal, it's a peety ye never marriet and left -nae faim'ly that we ken o'. For we hae sair need -o' ye in thae days. But ye kenned better than -to taigle yersel' wi' silly lasses. It was you that -bade the young weemen to be keepers at hame—nae -Bible clesses for Paaal—na, na!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you mind Peter—oh, Peter was juist as -soond on gum-floo'ers an' weemen's falderals as -Paaal, 'Whose adorning, let it not be the outward -adorning of plaiting the hair, and wearing of gold, -and putting on of apparel, but the ornament of -a meek and quiet speerit——'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped in the height of his discourse and -waggled his hand down at me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, boy!" he cried, "what did ye do wi' -thae conversation lozengers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I indicated that I had them still in my pocket, -for I had meant to solace the long road home -with the cleaner of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me see them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Somewhat unwillingly I handed them up to -Willie as he stood in the pulpit, a different Willie, -an accusing Willie, Nathan the Prophet with a -large cloth-brush under his arm.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"When this you see, remember me!"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He read the printed words through his glasses -deliberately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye," he sneered, "that wad be Mag Kinstrey. -I saw Rob Cuthbert smirkin' ower at her when -the minister was lookin' up yon reference to -Melchisadek. Aye, Meg, I'll remember ye—I'll -no forgot ye. And if ye mend not your -ways——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Willie did not conclude the sentence, but -instead, he shook his head in the direction of the -door of the Session house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He picked out another.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"The rose is red—the violet's blue,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But fairer far, my love, are you!"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Willie opened the door of the pulpit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Preserve me, what am I doin'? It's fair -profanation to be readin' sic balderdash in a place -like this. Laddie, hear ye this, whatever ye hae -to say to a lass, gang ye and say it to hersel', by -yoursel'. For valenteens are a vain thing, and -conversation lozengers a mock and an abomination."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Willie threatened me a moment with uplifted -finger, and then added his stereotyped conclusion: -"And so are all such as put their trust in them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And through life I have acted strictly on Willie's -advice, and I am bound to admit that I have found -it good.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About this period, also, I began to take tea, -not infrequently, with Willie, and occasionally, but -not often, I saw his wife, the incomparable Betty, -whose praises Willie was never tired of singing. -I am forced to say that, after these harangues, -Betty disappointed me. She sat dumb and -appeared singularly stupid, and this to a lad -accustomed to a housewife like my mother, with her -woman's wit keen as a razor, and a speech pointed -to needle fineness, appeared more than strange.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Willie's affection was certainly both lovely -and lovable. He was a gnarled grey old man -with a grim mouth, but for Betty he ran like -a young lover, and served her with meat and -drink, as it had been on bended knee. His smile -was ready whenever she looked at him, and he -watched her with anxious eyes, dwelling on her -every word and movement with a curious -perturbation. If she happened not to be in when he -came to the door, he would fall to trembling like -a leaf, and the bleached look on his face was -sad to see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Willie McNair dwelt in a rickety old house at -the bottom of the kirk hill, separated from the -other village dwellings by the breadth of a field. -There was a garden behind it, and a heathery -common behind that, with whins growing to the -very dyke of Willie's kail yard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first time that Betty was not in the house -when we went home, it was to the hill behind -that Willie ran first. Under a broom bush he -found her, after a long search, and lifting her up -in his arms he carried her to the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor Betty," he cried over his shoulder as he -went before me down the walk; "she shouldna -gang oot on sic a warm day. The sun has been -ower muckle for her. See, boy, rin doon to the -Tinkler's well for some caller water. The can's -at the gable end."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I returned Betty was quietly in bed; -and Willie had made the tea with ordinary water. -He was somewhat more composed, but I could -see his hand shake when he tried to pour out -the first cup. He "skailed" it all over the cloth, -and then was angered with himself for what he -called his "trimlin' auld banes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I never knew or suspected Willie's secret -till that awful Sabbath day, when the cross that -he had borne so long hidden from the eyes of -men, was suddenly lifted high in air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then all at once Willie towered like a giant, -and the bowed shoulders seemed to support a -grey head about which had become visible an -apparent aureole.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the day of High Communion, and the -solemn services were drawing to a yet more solemn -close. The elements had been dispensed and -the elders were back again in their places. -Mr. Osbourne had Dr. Landsborough of Portmarnock -assisting him that day—a tall man with a gracious -manner, and the only man who could give an -after-communion address without his words being -resented as an intrusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is always difficult," he said, "to disturb the -peculiarly sacred pause which succeeds the act of -communion by any words of man——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had got no farther when he stopped, and the -congregation regarded him with the strained -attention which a beautiful voice always compels. The -beadle was sitting in all the reasonable pride of his -dignity in the first pew to the right of the Session. -When Dr. Landsborough stopped, the congregation -followed the direction of his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door at the back of the kirk was seen to -be open and a woman stood there, dishevelled, -wild-eyed, a black bottle in her shaking hand, a -red shawl about her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Betty McNair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Willie!" she cried aloud in the awful silence, -"Willie, come forth—you that lockit me in the -back kitchin, an' thocht to stop me frae the -saicrament—I hae deceived ye, Willie McNair, clever -man as ye think yersel'!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was in the corner pew opposite Willie (being, -of course, a non-communicant at that date), so that -I could see his face. At the first sound of that -voice his countenance worked as if it would change -its shape, but in a moment I saw him grip the -book-board and stand up. Then he went quietly -down the aisle to where his wife stood, gabbling -wild and wicked words, and laughing till it turned -the blood cold to hear her in that sacred place, -and upon that solemn occasion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Firmly, but very gently, Willie took the woman -by the arm, and led her out. She went like a -lamb. He closed the door behind him, and after -a quaking and dreadful pause, Dr. Landsborough -took up the interrupted burden of his discourse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was a great lad of twelve or thirteen at the -time and unused to tears for many years. But I -know that I wept all the time till the service was -ended, thinking of Willie and wondering where he -was and what he would be doing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That same night I heard my father telling my -mother about what came next.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Session were in their little square room after -the service, counting the tokens. The minister was -sitting in his chair waiting to dismiss them with the -benediction, when a rap came to the door. My -father opened it, being nearest, and there without -stood Willie McNair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish to speak with the Session," he said, firmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in—come your ways in, William," said -the minister, kindly, and the elders resumed their -seats, not knowing what was to happen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Moderator and ruling elders of this congregation," -said Willie, who had not served tables so -long without knowing the respect due to his -spiritual superiors, "I have come before you in -the day of my shame to demit the office I have -held so long among you. Gentlemen, I do not -complain, I own I am well punished. These -twenty years I have lived for my pride. I have -lied to each one of you—to the minister, to you -the elders, and to the hale congregation, making -a roose of my wife, and sticking at nothing to -hide the shame of my house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sirs, for these lying words, it behoves that ye -deal strictly with me, and I will submit willingly. -But believe me, sirs, it was through a godly -jealousy that I did it, that the Kirk of the New -Testament might not be made ashamed through -me and mine. But for a' that I have done wrong, -grievous wrong. I aye kenned in my heart that -it would come—though, God helping me, I never -thocht that it would be like this!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But noo I maun gang awa'," here he broke -into dialect, "for I could never bear to see anither -man carry up the Buiks and open the door for -you, sir, to enter in. Forty years has William -McNair been a hewer of wood and a drawer of -water in this tabernacle. Let there be pity in -your hearts for him this day. He hath borne -himself with pride, and for that the Lord hath -brought him very low. And, oh! sirs, pray for -her—flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bone, -come to what ye saw this day! Tell me that -He will forgie—be sure to tell me that He will -forgie Betty—for what she has dune this day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The minister reassured him in affectionate -words, and the whole Session tried to get Willie -to withdraw his decision. But in vain. The old -man was firm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he said, "Betty is noo my chairge. The -husband of a drunkard is not a fit person to serve -tables in the clean and halesome sanctuary. I -will never leave Betty till the day she dees!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And neither he did. It was not long. Willie -nursed his wife with unremitting tenderness, -breaking himself down as he did so. I did not -see him again till the day of Betty's funeral. I -went with my father, feeling very important, as -it was the first function I had been at in my -new character of a man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they were filling in the grave, Willie -stood at the head with his hat in his hand, and -his grey locks waving in the moderate wind. -His lips were tremulous, but I do not think there -were tears in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I went up to try to say something that might -comfort him. I knew no better then. But I -think he did not wish me to speak about Betty, -for with a strange uncertain kind of smile he -lifted up his eyes till they rested upon the golden -fields of ripening corn all about the little kirkyard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think it will be an early harvest," he said, -in a commonplace tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then all suddenly he broke into a kind of -eager sobbing cry—a heart-prayer of ultimate -agony.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my God! my God! send that it be an -early harvest to puir Willie McNair."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And it was, for before a sheaf of that heartsome -yellow corn was gathered into barn, they laid -Willie beside the woman he had watched so long, -and sheltered so faithfully behind the barriers -of his love.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-blue-eyes-of-ailie"><span class="bold large">THE BLUE EYES OF AILIE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When first I went to Cairn Edward as a medical -man on my own account, I had little to do -with the district of Glenkells. For one thing, -there was a resident doctor there, Dr. Campbell—Ignatius -Campbell—and in those days professional -boundaries were more strictly observed than they -have been in more recent years. But in time, -whether owing to the natural spread of my practice, -or through some small name which I got in the -countryside, owing to a successful treatment of -tubercular cases, I found myself oftener and oftener -in the Glenkells. And, indeed, ever since I began -to be able to keep a stated assistant, it has been -my custom to take day about with him on the -Glenkells round.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in what follows I speak of the very early -years when I had still little actual connection -with the district. The Glenkells folk are always -in the habit of referring to themselves as a -community apart. They may, indeed, in extreme -cases include the rest of the United Kingdom—but, -as it were, casually. Thus, "If the storm -continues it will be a sair winter in Glenkells, -</span><em class="italics">and the rest o' the country</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Or when some statesman conspicuously -blundered, or a foreign nation involved themselves -in superfluous difficulties, you could not go into -a farmhouse or traverse the length of the main -street of the Clachan without hearing the words: -"The like o' that could never hae happened i' -the Glenkells!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So there arose a proverb which, though of local -origin, was not without a certain wider acceptation: -"As conceity as Glenkells," or, in a more diffuse -form: "Glenkells cocks craw aye croosest an' on -a muckler midden!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Glenkells wotted little of such slurs, or if -it minded at all took them for compliments with -a solid and irrefutable foundation. On the other -hand, it retorted upon the rest of the world in -characteristic fashion, visiting the sins of the -fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth -generation. As thus: "Tak' care o' him. He's no -to be trustit. His grandfaither cam' frae Borgue!" Or, -more allusively: "Aye, a Nicholson aye needs -watchin'. They a' come frae Kirkcudbright, </span><em class="italics">where -the jail is</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One peculiarity of the speech of this country -within a country struck me more than all the -others—perhaps because it came in the line of -my own profession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>More than once an applicant for my services -would say, in answer to my question: "Have you -called in the doctor?" "Oh, no, it has no been so -serious as that!" Succeedantly I would find that -Dr. Ignatius Campbell had been in attendance for -some time, and that I ought to have consulted -with him before, as it were, jumping his claim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Campbell was a queer, dusty, smoky old -man who, when seen abroad, sat low in a kind -of basket-phaeton—as it were, on the small of -his back, and visited his patients in a kind of -dreamy exaltation which many put down to drink. -They were wrong. The doctor was something -much harder to cure—an habitual opium-eater. -Somehow Dr. Campbell had never taken the -position in the Glenkells to which his abilities -entitled him. He came from the North, and that -was against him. More than that, he sent in his -bills promptly, and saw that they were settled. -Worst of all, he took no interest in imaginary -diseases.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He openly laughed at calomel—which in the -Glenkells was looked upon as a kind of blaspheming -of the Trinity. But he was a duly certified -graduate of Edinburgh like myself. His name -was on the Medical List, and only his unfortunate -habit and the dreamy idleness engendered by it -kept him from making a very considerable name -for himself in his profession. I found, for instance, -after his death (he left his books, papers, and -instruments to me) that he had actually anticipated -in his vague theoretical way some of the most -applauded discoveries of more recent times, and -that he was well versed in all the foreign literature -of such subjects as interested him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Dr. Ignatius Campbell with his great pipe, -his low-crowned hat, his seedy black clothes with -the fluff sticking here and there upon them, was -not the man to impress the Glenkells. For in -Galloway the minister may go about in -fishing-boots, shooting-jacket, and deerstalker if he -will—nobody thinks the worse of him for it. The -lawyer may look as if he bought his clothes from -a slopshop. The country gentleman may wear -a suit of tweeds for ten years, till the leather -gun-patch on the shoulder threatens to pervade -the whole man, back and front. But the doctor, -if he would be successful, must perforce dress -strictly by rule. Sunday and Saturday he must -go buttoned up in his well-fitting surtout. His -hat must be glossy, no matter what the weather -may be (for myself I always kept a spare one -in the box of the gig), and the whole man upon -entering a sick-room must bring with him the -fragrance of clean linen, good clothes, and -personal exactitude. And though naturally a little -rebellious at first, I hereby subscribe to the -Galloway view of the case.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nance converted me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that a clean collar?—no, sir, you don't! -Take it off this instant! I think this tie will suit -you better. It is a dull day and something light -becomes you. I have ironed your other hat. See -that you put it on! Let me look at your cuffs. -Mind that you turn down your trousers before you -come in sight of the house. John" (this to my -driver), "see that Dr. McQuhirr turns down his -trousers and puts on his hat right side first. -There is a dint at the back that I cannot quite -get out!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is no wonder that I succeeded in Galloway, -having such a—I mean being endowed with such -professional talents!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had not, however, been long in Glenkells before -I found out that there was another medical adviser -on the scene—a kind of Brownie who did -Dr. Campbell's work while he slept or dreamed his -life away over his pipe and his coloured diagrams, -whose very name was never mentioned, to me at -least—perhaps from some idea that as an orthodox -professional man I might resent the Brownie's -intrusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But matters came to a head one day when I -found the bottle of medicine I had sent up from -the Cairn Edward apothecary standing untouched -on the mantelpiece, while another and wholly -unlicensed phial stood at the bed-head with a glass -beside it, in which lingered a few drops of -something which I knew well that I had not prescribed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is this?" I demanded. "Why have you -not administered the medicine I sent you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The woman put her apron to her lips in some -embarrassment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, doctor—ye see the way o't was this," she -said. "Jeems was ta'en that bad in the nicht that -I had to caa' in—a neebour o' oors—an' he brocht -this wi' him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I lifted my hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, Mrs. Landsborough," I said, -with immense dignity; "I am sorry that I must -retire from the case. It is impossible for me to -go on if you disregard my instructions in that -manner. No doubt Dr. Campbell——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The good woman lifted up her hands in amazement -and appeal. Even Jeems turned on his bed -in quick alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Deed, Dr. Ma Whurr!" she cried, "it wasna -Dr. Cawmell ava. We wadna think on sic a -thing——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your faither's son will never gang oot o' a -MacLandsborough's hoose in anger, surely?" said -Jeems, making the final Galloway appeal to the -clan spirit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was conjuring with a name I could not -disavow, and strongly against my first intentions -I continued to attend the case. Jeems got rapidly -better, and my bottle diminished steadily day by -day. But whether it went down Jeems's throat -or mended the health of the back of the grate, -it was better, perhaps, that I did not inquire too -closely. On my way home I considered my own -prescription, and recalled the ingredients which -by taste and smell I discovered in the intruding -bottle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not sure but what—well, it might have -been better. I wonder who the man is?" This -was as much as I could be brought to admit in -those days, even to myself. The doctor, who in -the first years of his practice does not think -more of the sacredness of his diagnosis than of -his married wife and all his family unto cousins -six times removed, is not fit to be trusted—not -so much as with the administering of one -Beecham's pill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet I own the matter troubled me. I had a rival -who—no, he did not understand more of the case -than myself. But all the same, I wanted to find -him out—in the interests of the Medical Register.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the riddle was resolved one day about a -week afterwards in a rather remarkable manner. -I was proceeding up the long main street of -the Clachan, looking for a house in which -Dr. Campbell (with whom of late I had grown -strangely intimate) had told me that he would -be found at a certain hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I went I noticed, what I had never seen -before, a little house, white and clean without, -the creepers clambering all over it. This agreed, -so far, with the doctor's description. I turned -aside and went up two or three carefully reddened -steps. A brass knocker blinked in the evening -sunshine. I lifted it and knocked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is the doctor in?" I said to a tall gaunt -woman who opened the door an inch or two. As -it was I could only see a lenticular section of her -person, so that in describing her I draw upon -later impressions. She hesitated a second or two, -and then, rather grudgingly as I thought, opened -the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With no more greeting than that she ushered -me into a small room crowded with books and -apparatus. The table held a curious microscope, -evidently home-made in most of its fittings. -Pieces of mechanism, the purpose of which I -could not even guess, were strewn about the floor. -Castings were gripped angle-wise in vices, and at -the end of an ordinary carpenter's bench stood -a small blacksmith's furnace, with bellows and -anvil all complete. In the recess, half hidden -by a screen, I could catch a glimpse of a lathe. -There was no carpet on the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door opened and a small spare man stood -before me, the deprecation of an offending dog -in his beautiful brown eyes. He did not speak -or offer to shake hands, but only stood shyly -looking up at me. It was some time before -I could find words. Nance often tells me that I -need a push behind to enable me to take the -lead in any conversation—except with herself, -that is, and then I never get a chance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon, doctor," said I, "I was -seeking my friend Campbell. I did not know -you had settled amongst us, or I should have -been to call on you before this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I held out my hand cordially, for the man -appealed to me somehow. But he did not seem -to notice it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not 'doctor,'" he said, speaking in a -quick agitated way. "Mister—Roger is my -name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon, I am sure," I stammered; -"in that case I do not know how to excuse -my intrusion. I asked for the doctor, meaning -Dr. Campbell, and your servant——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My mother, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was pride as well as challenge in the -brown eyes now, and I found myself liking the -young man better than ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon—Mrs. Roger showed me -in by mistake, I fear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was no mistake—I am sometimes called -so in this place, though not by my own will; -I have no right to the title!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," I said, as I looked round the room. -"won't you shake hands with me? You don't -know what a pleasure it is to meet a man of -science, as it is evident you are, here in these -forlorn uplands!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you pardon me a moment till I inform -you exactly of my status?" he said, "and when -you clearly understand, if you still wish to shake -my hand—well, with all my heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood silent a moment, and then, suddenly -recollecting himself, "Will you not sit down?" -he said. "Pray forgive my discourtesy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I sat down, displacing as I did so a box of tools -which had been planted on the green rep of the -easy-chair cover.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may well be astonished that I wish -to speak to you, Dr. McQuhirr," he said, -beginning restlessly to pace the room, mechanically -avoiding the various obstacles on the floor as -he did so; "but I have long wished to put -myself right with a member of the profession, -and now that chance has thrown us together, I -feel that I must speak——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But there is Dr. Campbell—surely it cannot -be that two men of such kindred tastes, in -a small place like this, should not know each -other!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flushed painfully, and turning to a stand -near the window, played with the flywheel of a -small model, turning it back and forward with -his finger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dr. Campbell is the victim of a most unfortunate -prejudice," he murmured softly, and for a -space said no more. It was so still in the room -that through the quiet I could hear the tall -eight-day clock ticking half-way up the stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He resumed his narrative and his pacing to -and fro at the same moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am," he went on, "at heart of your -profession. I have attended all the classes and -earned the encomiums of my professors in the -hospitals. I stood fairly well in the earlier -written examinations, but at my first oral I -broke down completely—a kind of aphasia came -over me. My brain reeled, a dreadful shuddering -took hold of my soul, and I fell into a dead -faint. For months they feared for my reason, -and though ultimately I recovered and completed -my course of study, I was never able to sit down -at an examination-table again. After my father's -death my mother settled here, and gradually -it has come about that in any emergency I have -been asked to visit and prescribe for a patient. -I believe the poor people call me 'doctor' among -themselves, but I have never either countenanced -the title, or on any occasion failed to rebuke the -user. Neither have I ever accepted fee or reward, -whether for advice or medicine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I held out my hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I care not a brass farthing about professional -etiquette," said I; "it is my opinion that you are -doing a noble work. And I know of one case, at -least, where your diagnosis was better than mine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>More I could not say. He flushed redly and -took my hand, shaking it warmly. Then all at -once he dropped the somewhat strained elevation -of manner in which he had told his story, and -began to speak with the innocent confidence and -unreserve of a child. He was obviously much -pleased at my inferred compliment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" he said, "I know what you mean. But -then, you see, you did not know James -MacLandsborough's life history. He was my father's -gardener. I knew his record and the record of -his father before him. It was nothing but an -old complaint, for which I had treated him over -and over again—working, that is, on the basis of -a recent chill. In your place and with your data -I should have done what you did. In fact, I -admired your treatment greatly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We talked a long while, so long, indeed, that I -forgot all about Dr. Campbell, and it was dusk -before I found myself at Mr. Roger's door saying -"Good-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I might venture to say so," he stammered, -holding my hand a moment in his quick nervous -grasp, "I would advise you not to mention your -visit here to your friend, Dr. Campbell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am afraid I must," I replied; "I had an -appointment with him which I have unfortunately -forgotten in the interest of our talk!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I much fear that it is not 'Good-night' -but 'Good-bye' between us!" he murmured sadly, -and went within.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And even as he had prophesied so it was.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Sir," said Dr. Campbell, "I shall be sorry to -lose your society, but you must choose between -that house and mine. I have special and family -reasons why I cannot be intimate with any visitor -to Mr.——ah, Roger!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had found the doctor lying on his couch, as -was his custom, his curious Oriental tray beside -him, and an acrid tang in the air; but at my -first words about my visit he shook off his dreamy -abstraction and sat up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To tell you the truth, Campbell," I said, as -calmly as possible, for, of course, I could not allow -any one (except Nance) to dictate to me, "I was -singularly interested in the young man, and—he -told his tale, as it seemed to me, quite frankly. If -I am not to call upon him, I must ask you as to -your reasons for a request so singular."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not a request, McQuhirr," said the doctor, -passing his hand across his brow as if to clear -away moisture. "It is only a little information -I give you for your guidance. If you wish to -visit this young man—well, I am deeply grieved, -but I cannot receive you here, or have any -intercourse with you professionally."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is saying too much or too little," I replied; -"you must tell me your reasons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he hesitated, looking from side to side -in a semi-dazed way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would rather not—they are family reasons!" -he stammered, as he spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is such a thing as the seal of the -profession," I reminded him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said at last, "I will tell you. That -young man is my nephew, the son of my elder -brother. His name is not Roger, but Roger -Campbell. His mother was my poor brother's -housekeeper. He married her some time after -his first wife's death. This boy was their child, -and, like a cuckoo in the nest, he tried from the -first to oust his elder brother—the child of the -dead woman. Indeed, but for my interference -his mother and he would have done it between -them; for my brother was latterly wholly in -their hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Finally this lad went to college, and coming -here one summer after the breaking up of the -classes he must needs fall in love with Ailie—my -daughter, that is. What?—You never knew that -I had a daughter! Ah, Alec, I was not always -the man you see me—I too have had ambitions. -But after—well, what use is there to speak of -it? At any rate, young Roger Campbell fell -in love with my Ailie, and she, I suppose, liked -it well enough, but like a sensible girl gave him -no immediate answer. Then after that came his -half-brother, who was heir to the little property -on Loch Aweside, and he too fell in love with -Ailie. There was no girl like her in all the Glen -of Kells; and as for him, he was a tall, handsome, -fair lad, not crowled and misshapen like this one. -Well, Ailie and he fell in love, and then Roger's -mother moved heaven and earth to disinherit -Archie. It was for this cause that I went up -to Inchtaggart and watched my brother during -the last weeks of his life. The woman fought -like a wild cat for her son, but I and Archie -watched in turns. It was I who found the will -by which Archie inherited all. In three months -Ailie and he were married. Roger Campbell -failed in his examinations the same year, and the -next mother and son came back here to her native -village to live on their savings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The mere choice of this place showed their -spite against me, but that is not the worst. Ever -since that day they have devoted themselves to -discrediting me in my profession. And you, who -know these people, know to what an extent they -have succeeded. My practice has shrunk to -nothing—almost. Even the patients I have, when they -do call me in, send secretly for my enemy before -my feet are cold off the doorstep. Yet I have no -redress, for I have never been able to bring a -case of taking fees home to him. Ah! if only -I could!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Ignatius fell back exhausted, for towards -the last he had been talking with a vehemence -that shook the casements and set the prisms of -the little old chandelier a-tingling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that is why I say you must choose between -us," he said. "Is it not enough? Have I asked -too much?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is enough for me," I said; "I will do as -you wish!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now I did not see anything in his story very -much against the young man; but, after all, the -lad was nothing to me, and I had known -Dr. Ignatius a long time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I asked him how it came that the young -man was called Roger and not Campbell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" he said, "that is the one piece of -decent feeling he has shown in the whole affair. -He called himself Campbell Roger when he came -here. You are the only person who knows that -he is my nephew."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I was glad afterwards that I had made him the -promise he asked for. I never saw him in life -again. Dr. Ignatius Campbell died two days after, -being found dead in bed with his tiny pipe clutched -in his hand. I went up that same day, and in -conjunction with Dr. John Thoburn Brown of -Drumfern, found that our colleague had long -suffered from an acute form of heart disease, and -that it was wonderful how he had survived so long. -The body was lying at the time in the room -where he died. The maid-servant had gone to -stay with relatives in the village, not being willing -to remain all night in the house alone; for which, -all things considered, I did not greatly blame her. -I asked if there was anything I could do, but was -informed that all arrangements for the funeral -had been made. It was to be on the Friday, -two days after.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I drove up the glen early that morning, and found -a tall young man in the house, opening drawers -and rummaging among papers. I understood at -once that this was Mr. Archibald Campbell of -Inchtaggart. I greeted him by that name, and -he responded heartily enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are Dr. McQuhirr," he said; "my father-in-law -often spoke about you and how kind you -were to him. You know that he has left all his -books, papers, and scientific apparatus to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not know," I said; "that is as unexpected -as it is undeserved, and I hope you will -act precisely as if such a bequest had not existed. -You must take all that either you or your wife -would care to possess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" he cried lightly, "Ailie could not come. -She has been ill lately, and as for me, I would not -touch one of the beastly things with a ten-foot -pole. Come into the garden and have a smoke."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There Mr. Archibald Campbell told me that -he had arranged for a sale of the doctor's house -and all his effects as soon as possible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better to have it over," he said, "so you had -as well bring up a conveyance and cart off all the -scientific rubbish you care about. I want all -settled up and done with within the month."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He departed the night after the funeral, leaving -the funeral expenses unpaid. He was a hasty, -though well-meaning young man, and no doubt he -forgot. When I came up on the Monday of the -week following, I discovered that the account had -been paid.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After I had made my selection of books and -instruments, besides taking all the manuscripts -(watched from room to room by the Drumfern -lawyer's sharp eye), I strolled out, and my steps -turned involuntarily towards the little house -covered with creepers where I had seen the young -man Roger. I felt that death had absolved me -from my promise, and with a quick resolve I -turned aside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The same woman opened the door an inch or -two. I lifted my hat and asked if her son was in. -She held the door open for me without speaking -a word and ushered me into the model-strewn -little parlour. I cast my eyes about. On the -table lay the discharged account for the funeral -expenses of Dr. Ignatius Campbell!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In another moment the door opened and the -young man came in, paler than before, and with -the slight halt in his gait exaggerated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you do, Mr. Campbell?" I said quietly, -holding out my hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave back a step, almost as if I had struck -him. Then he smiled wanly. "Ah! he told you. -I expected he would; and yet you have come?" He -spoke slowly, the words coming in jerks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I held out my hand and said heartily: "Of -course I came."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I did not think it necessary to tell him -anything about my agreement with Dr. Campbell. -He, on his part, had quietly possessed himself -of John Ewart's bill for the funeral expenses. -We had a long talk, and I stayed so late that -Nance had begun to get anxious about me before -I arrived home. But not one word, either in -justification of himself or of accusation against -his uncle, did he utter, though he must have -known well enough what his uncle had said of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nor was it till a couple of months afterwards -that Roger Campbell adverted again to the -subject. I had been to the churchyard to look at -the headstone which had been erected, as I knew, -at his expense. He had asked me to write the -inscription for it, and I had done so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Coming home, he had to stop several times on -the hill to take breath. When we got to the -door he said: "I have but one thing to pray for -now, Dr. McQuhirr, and that is that I may -outlive my mother. Give me your best skill and -help me to do that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His prayer was answered. He lived just two -days after his mother. And I was with him most -of the time, while Nance stayed with my people -at Drumquhat. It was a beautiful Sabbath -evening, and the kirk folk were just coming home. -Most who suffer from his particular form of phthisis -imagine themselves to be getting better to the -very last, but he knew too much to have any -illusions. I had put the pillows behind him, -and he was sitting up making kindly comment -on the people as they passed by, Bible in hand. -He stopped suddenly and looked at me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Doctor," he said, "what my uncle told you -about me never made any difference to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," I said, rather shamefacedly, "no difference -at all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he went on, meditatively, "no difference. -Well, I want you to burn two documents for me, -lest they fall into the wrong hands—as they might -before these good folk go back kirkward again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He directed me with his finger, at the same -time handing me a key he wore upon his watch-chain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Even my poor mother up there," he said, -pointing to the room above, "has never set eyes -on what I am going to show you. It is weak -of me; I ought not to do it, doctor, but I will -not deny that it is some comfort to set myselt -right with one human soul before I go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I took out of a little drawer in a bureau a -miniature, a bundle of letters, and a broadly -folded legal-looking document.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I offered them to Roger, but he waved them away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not want to look upon them—they are -here!" He touched his forehead. "And one -of them is here!" He laid his hand on his heart -with that freedom of gesture which often comes -to the dying, especially to those who have -repressed themselves all their lives.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked down at the miniature and saw the -picture of a girl, very pretty, beautiful indeed, -but with that width between the eyes which, in -fair women, gives a double look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ailie, my brother's wife!" he said, in answer -to my glance. "These are her letters. Open -them one by one and burn them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I did as he bade me, throwing my eyes out -of focus so that I might not read a word. But -out of one fluttered a pressed flower. It was -fixed on a card with a little lock of yellow hair -arranged about it for a frame, fresh and crisp. -And as I picked it up I could not help catching -the prettily printed words:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"TO DARLING ROGER, FROM HIS OWN AILIE."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There was also a date.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me look at that!" he said quickly. I -gave it to him. He looked at the flower—a -quick painful glance, but as he handed me back -the card he laughed a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a 'Forget-me-not,'" he said. Then in -a musing tone he added: "</span><em class="italics">Well, Ailie, I never -have!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So one by one the letters were burnt up, till -only a black pile of ashes remained, in ludicrous -contrast to the closely packed bundle I had taken -from the drawer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now burn the ribbon that kept them together, -and look at the other paper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I unfolded it. It was a will in holograph, the -characters clear and strong, signed by Archibald -Ruthven Campbell, of Inchtaggart, Argyleshire, -devising all his estate and property to his son Roger, -with only a bequest in money to his elder son!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was dazed as I looked through it, and my lips -framed a question. The young man smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My father's last will," he said, "dated a month -before his death. She never knew it." (Again he -indicated the upper room where his mother's body -lay.) "</span><em class="italics">They</em><span> never knew it." (He looked at the -girl's picture as it smiled up from the table where I -had laid it.) "My brother Archie succeeded on a -will older by twenty years. But when I lost Ailie, I -lost all. Why should she marry a failure? Besides, -I truly believe that she loves my brother, at least -as well as ever she loved me. It is her nature. -That she is infinitely happier with him, I know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you were the heir all the time and -never told it—not to any one!" I cried, getting -up on my feet. He motioned me towards the -grate again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Burn it," he said, "I have had a moment of -weakness. It is over. I ought to have been -consistent and not told even you. No, let the picture -lie. I think it does me good. God bless you, -Alec! Now, good-night; go home to your Nance."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He died the next forenoon while I was still on -my rounds. And when I went in to look at him, -the picture had disappeared. I questioned the old -crone who had watched his last moments and -afterwards prepared him for burial.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He had something in his hand," she answered, -"but I couldna steer it. His fingers grippit it -like a smith's vice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked, and there from between the clenched -fingers of the dead right hand the eyes of Ailie -Campbell smiled out at me—blue and false as -her own Forget-me-not.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="lowe-s-seat"><span class="bold large">LOWE'S SEAT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Elspeth did not mean to go to Lowe's Seat. -She had indeed no business there. For she was -the minister's daughter, and at this time of the -day ought to have been visiting the old wives -in the white-washed "Clachan" on the other side -of the river, showing them how to render their -patchwork quilts less hideous, compassionating -them on their sons' ungrateful silence (letters -arrive so seldom from the "States"). Yet here -was Elspeth Stuart under the waving boughs, -seated upon the soft grassy turf, and employed -in nothing more utilitarian than picking a gowan -asunder petal by petal. It was the middle of -an August afternoon, and as hot as it ever is -in Scotland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why then had Elspeth gone to Lowe's Seat? -It seemed a mystery. It was to the full as -pleasant on the side of the river where dwelt -her father, where complained her maiden aunt, -and where after their kind racketed and stormed -her roving vagabond bird-nesting brothers. On -the Picts' Mound beside the kirk (an ancient -Moothill, so they say, upon which justice of the -rudest and readiest was of old dispensed) there -were trees and green depths of shade. She might -have stayed and read there—the "Antiquary" -perhaps, or "Joseph Andrews," or her first favourite -"Emma," all through the long sweet drowsing -summer's afternoon. But somehow up at Lowe's -Seat, the leaves of the wood laughed to a different -tune and the Airds woods were dearer than all -sweet Kenside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So in spite of all Elspeth Stuart had crossed -in her father's own skiff, which he used for his -longer ministerial excursions "up the water," and -her brothers Frank and Sandy for perch-fishing -and laying their "ged" lines. There was indeed -a certain puddock in a high state of decomposition -in a locker which sadly troubled Elspeth -as she bent to the oars. And now she was at -Lowe's Seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is strange to what the love of poetry will -drive a girl. Elspeth tossed back the fair curls -which a light wind persisted in flicking ticklingly -over her brow. With a coquettish, blushful, -half-indignant gesture she thrust them back with her -hand, as if they ought to have known better than -to intrude upon a purpose so serious as hers in -coming to Lowe's Seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here was the place," she murmured to herself, -explanatorily, "where the poor boy hid himself to -write his poem—a hundred years ago! Was it -really a hundred years ago?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked about her, and the wind whispered -and rustled and laughed a little down among the -elms and the hazels, while out towards the river and -on a level with her face the silver birches shook -their plumes daintily as a pretty girl her wandering -tresses, bending saucily toward the water as they -did so. Then Elspeth said the first two verses of -"Mary's Dream" over to herself. The poem was -a favourite with her father, a hard stern man with -a sentimental base, as is indeed very common -in Scotland.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"The moon had climbed the highest hill</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>That rises o'er the source of Dee,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>And from the eastern summit shed</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Her silver light on tower and tree.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>When Mary laid her down to sleep,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>There soft and low a voice was heard,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Saying, 'Mary, weep no more for me!'"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Elspeth was young and she was not critical. -Lowe's simple and to the modern mind somewhat -obvious verse, seemed to her to contain the -essence of truth and feeling. But on the other -hand she looked adorable as she said them. For, -strangely enough, a woman's critical judgment is -generally in inverse ratio to her personal attractions—though -doubtless there are exceptions to the rule.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As has been said, she did not go to Lowe's -Seat for any particular purpose. She said so to -herself as many as ten times while she was -crossing in the skiff, and at least as often when she -was pulling herself up the steep braeface by the -supple hazels and more stubborn young oaks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Elspeth Stuart continued to hum a vagrant -tune, more than half of the bars wholly silent, -and the rest sometimes loud and sometimes soft, -as she glanced downwards out of her green -garret high among the leaves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>More than once she grew restive and pattered -impatiently with her fingers on her lap as if -expecting some one who did not come. Only -occasionally she looked down towards the river. -Indeed, she permitted her eyes to rove in every -direction except immediately beneath her, where -through a mist of leaves she could see the Dee -kissing murmuringly the rushes on its marge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pretty girl—yes, surely. More than that, -one winsome with the wilful brightness which takes -men more than beauty. And being withal only -twenty years of her age, it may well be believed -that Elspeth Stuart, the only daughter of the -parish minister of Dullarg, did not move far -without drawing the glances of men after her as -a magnet attracts steel filings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet a second marvel appeared beneath. There -was a young man moving along by the water's -edge and he did not look up. To all appearance -Lowe's Seat might just as well not have existed -for him, and its pretty occupant might have been -reading Miss Austen under the pines of the Kirk -Knowe on the opposite side of Dee Water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elspeth also appeared equally unconscious. Of -course, how otherwise? She had plucked a spray -of bracken and was peeling away the fronds, -unravelling the tough fibres of the root and -rubbing off the underleaf seeds, so that they showed -red on her fingers like iron rust. Wondrous -busy had our maid become all suddenly. But -though she had not smiled when the youth came -in sight, she pouted when he made as if he would -pass by without seeing her. Which is a strange -thing when you come to think of it, considering -that she herself had apparently not observed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly, however, she sang out loudly, a -strong ringing stave like a blackbird from the -copse as the sun rises above the hills. Whereat -the young man started as if he had been shot. -Hitherto he had held a fishing-rod in his hand -and seemed intent only on the stream. But at the -sound of Elspeth's voice he whirled about, and -catching a glimpse of bright apparel through the -green leaves, he came straight up through the tangle -with the rod in his hand. Even at that moment it -did not escape Elspeth's eye that he held it -awkwardly, like one little used to Galloway burn-sides. -She meant to show him better by-and-by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having arrived, the surprise and mutual -courtesies were simply overpowering. Elspeth -had not dreamed—the merest impulse had led -her—she had been reading Lowe's poem the night -before. It was really the only completely sheltered -place for miles, where one could muse in peace. -He knew it was, did he not?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we must introduce this young man. If -he had possessed a card it would have said: "The -Rev. Allan Syme, B.A."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was the new minister of the Cameronian -Kirk at Cairn Edward. He has just been "called," -chiefly because the other two on the short leet -had not been considered sufficiently "firm" in -their views concerning an "Erastian Establishment," -as at the Kirk on the Hill they called the -Church of Scotland nationally provided for by -the Revolution Settlement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In his trial discourses, however, Mr. Syme had -proved categorically that no good had ever come -out of any state-supported Church, that the -ministers of the present establishment were little -better than priests of the Scarlet Woman who -sitteth on the Seven Hills, and that all those -who trusted in them were even as the moles and -the bats, children of darkness and travellers on -the smoothly macadamised highway to destruction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, at that free stave of Elspeth's carol -Allan Syme went up hill as fast as if he had -never preached a sermon on the text, "And -Elijah girded up his loins and ran before Ahab -unto the entering in of Jezreel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At half-past eleven by the clock the minister -of the Cameronian Kirk sat down beside this -daughter of an Erastian Establishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Have you heard the leaves of beech and birch -laugh as they clash and rustle? That is how the -wicked summer woods of Airds laughed that day -about Lowe's Seat.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Half a mile down the river there is a ferry boat -which at infrequent intervals pushes a flat duck's -bill across Dee Water. It is wide enough to take -a loaded cart of hay, and long enough to accommodate -two young horses tail to tail and yet leave -room for the statutory flourishing of heels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bess MacTaggart could take it across with any -load upon it you pleased, pushing easily upon an -iron lever. They use a wheel now, but it was much -prettier in the old days when all for a penny -you could watch Bess lift the toothed lever with -a sharp movement of her shapely arm, wet and -dripping from the chain, as it slowly dredged -itself up from the river bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was half-past four when, in reply to repeated -hails, the boat left the Dullarg shore with a -company of three men on board, and in addition -the sort of person who is called a "single lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two of the men stood together at one end -of the ferry-boat, and after Bess had bidden one of -them sharply to "get out of her road," she called -him "Drows" to make it up, and asked him if he -were going over to the lamb sale at Nether Airds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If it's the Lord's wull!" Drows replied, with -solemnity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Both he and his companion had commodious, -clean-shaven "horse" faces, with an abundance -of gray hair standing out in a straggling -semi-circular aureole underneath the chin. Cameronian -was stamped upon their faces with broad strong -simplicity. The blue bonnet, already looking -old-world among the universal "felts" common -to most adult manhood—the deep serious eyes, -as it were withdrawn under the penthouse of -bushy brows, and looking upon all things (even -lamb sales) as fleeting and transitory—the long -upper lip and the mouth tightly compressed—these -marked out John Allanson of Drows and -Matthew Carment of Craigs as pillars of that -Kirk which alone of all the fragments of -Presbytery is senior to the Established Church of -Scotland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the other side of the boat and somewhat -apart stood Dr. Hector Stuart, gazing gloomily -at the black water as it rippled and clappered -under the broad lip of the ferry-boat. A proud -man, a Highland gentleman of old family, was -the minister of Dullarg. He kept his head -erect, and for any notice he had taken of the -Cameronian elders, they might just as well not -have been on the boat at all. And in their turn -the elders of the Cameronian Kirk compressed -their lips more firmly and their eyes seemed deeper -set in their heads when their glances fell on this -pillar of Erastianism. For nowhere is the racial -antipathy of north and south so strong as in -Galloway. There, and there alone, the memory -of the Highland Host has never died out, and -every autumn when the hills glow red with -heather from horizon to horizon verge, the story -is told to Galloway childhood of how Lag and -Clavers wasted the heritage of the Lord, and how -from Ailsa to Solway all the west of Scotland is -"flowered with the blood of the Martyrs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thin nervous woman kept close to the -minister's elbow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell you I saw her cross the water, Hector," she -was saying as Dr. Stuart looked ahead, scanning -keenly the low sandy shores they were nearing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The boat is gone and she has not returned. -It is a thing not proper for a young lady and -a minister's daughter to be so long absent from -home!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My daughter has been too well brought up -to do aught that is improper!" said Dr. Stuart, -with grave sententious dignity. "You need not -pursue the subject, Mary!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was just enough likeness between them -to stamp the pair as brother and sister. As the -boat touched the edge of the sharply sloping -shingle bank, the hinged gang-plank tilted itself -up at a new angle. The passengers paid their -pennies to Bess MacTaggart and stepped sedately -on shore. The boat-house stands in a water-girt -peninsula, the Ken being on one side broad and -quiet, the Black Water on the other, sulky and -turbulent. So that for half a mile there was but -one road for this curiously assorted pair of pairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as they approached them the woods of Airds -laughed even more mockingly, with a ripple of -tossing birch plumes like a woman when she is -merry in the night and dares not laugh aloud. -And the beeches responded with a dryish cackle -that had something of irony in it. Listen and you -will hear how it was the next time a beech-tree -shakes out his leaves to dry the dew off them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two elders came to a quick turn of the road. -There was a stile just beyond. A moment before -a young man had overleaped it, and now he was -holding up his hands encouragingly to a girl who -smiled down upon him from above. It was a -difficult stile. The dyke top was shaky. Two -of the bottom steps; were missing altogether. All -who have once been young know the kind of stile—verily, -a place of infinite danger to the unwary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So at least thought Elspeth Stuart, as for a -long moment she stood daintying her skirts about -her ankles on the perilous copestone, and drawing -her breath a little short at the sight of the steep -descent into the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The elders also stood still, and behind them -the other pair came slowly up. And surely some -wicked tricksome Puck laughed unseen among -the beech leaves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elspeth Stuart had taken the young man's hand -now. He was lifting her down. There—it was -done. And—yes, you are right—something else -happened—just what would have happened to you -and me, twenty, thirty, or is it forty years ago?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then with a clash and a rustle the beeches told -the tale to the birches over all the wooded slopes -of the hill of Airds.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Elspeth!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elspeth Stuart!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Maister Syme!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The names came from four pairs of horrified lips -as the parties to the above mentioned transaction -fell swiftly asunder, with sudden stricken horror -on their faces. The first cry came shrill and -keen, and was accompanied by an out-throwing -of feminine hands. The second fell sternly from -the mouth of one who was at once a parent and -a minister of the Establishment outraged in his -tenderest feelings. But indubitably the elders had -it. For one thing, they were two to one, and -as they said for the second time with yet deeper -gravity "</span><em class="italics">Maister Syme!</em><span>" it appeared at once -that they, and only they, were able adequately -to deal with the unprecedented situation. But -the others did what they could.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mistress Mary Stuart, the minister's maiden -sister, flew forward with an eager cry, the -"scraich" of a desperate hen when she is on the -wrong side of the fence and sees the "daich" -disappearing down a hundred hungry throats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She clutched her niece by the arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come away this moment!" she cried, "do you -know who this young man is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Elspeth did not answer. She was looking -at her father, Dr. Stuart, whose eyes were bent -upon the young man. Very stern they were, -the fierce sudden darkness of Celtic anger in -them. But the young Cameronian minister knew -that he had far worse to face than that, and met -the frown of paternal severity with shame indeed -mantling on his cheek and neck, but yet with -a certain quiet of determination firming his heart -within him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir," he said, "that of which you have been -witness was no more than an accident—the -fault of impulse and young blood. But I own I -was carried away. I ask the young lady's pardon -and yours. I should have spoken to you first, -but now I will delay no longer. Sir, I love -your daughter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came for the first time a slight smile upon -the pale face of his fellow-culprit. She said in -her heart, "Ah, Allan, if ye had spoken first to -my father, feint a kiss would ye ever have gotten -from Elspeth Stuart!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at the manful words of the young Cameronian -the face of her father grew only the more stern, -the two elders watching and biding their time -by the roadside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They knew that it would come before long.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last after a long silence Dr. Stuart spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir," he said grimly, "I do not bandy words -with a stranger upon the public highway. I -myself have nothing to say to you. I forbid you -ever again to speak to my daughter. Elspeth, -follow me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with no more than this he turned and -stalked away. But his daughter also had the -high Highland blood in her veins. She shook -off with one large motion of her arm the stringy -clutch of her aunt's fingers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heed you not, Allan," she said, speaking very -clearly, so that all might hear, "when ye want -her, Elspeth Stuart will come the long road and -the straight road to speak a word with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a bold avowal to make, and a moment -before the girl had not meant to say anything -of the kind. But they had taken the wrong way -with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, unmaidenly—most unmaidenly!" cried her -aunt, "come away—ye are mad this day, Elspeth -Stuart—he has but a hunder a year of stipend, -and may lose that ony day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Elspeth did not answer. She was holding -out her hand to Allan Syme. He bent quickly -and kissed it. This young man had had a -mother who taught him gracious ways, not at -all in keeping with the staid manners of a son -of the covenants.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"And now, sir," said John Allanson of Drows, -turning grimly upon his minister, who stood -watching Elspeth's girlish figure disappear round -the curve of the green-edged track, "what have -you to say to us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Allan Syme's pulses leaped quick and -light, for he knew that of a surety the time of -his visitation was at hand. Yet his heart did not -fail within him. At the last it was glad and high. -"For after all" (he smiled as he thought it), -"after all—well, they cannot </span><em class="italics">take</em><span> that from me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir," said Matthew Carment, in a louder tone, -"heard ye the quastion that your ruling elder -hath pitten till ye?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"John and Matthew," said the young man, -gently, "ye are my elders, and I will not answer -you as I did Dr. Stuart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The priest of Midian!" said Matthew Carment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The forswearer of covenants!" said John Allanson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I will speak with you as those who have -been unto me as Aaron and Hur for the -upholding of mine hands——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, rather," said John Allanson, sternly, "as -Phineas the son of Eleazar, the son of Aaron, the -priest who thrust through the Midianitish woman -in sight of all the congregation of Israel, as they -stood weeping before the door of the tabernacle!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So the plague was stayed from the children -of Israel," quoted Matthew Carment, gravely, -finishing his friend's sentence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan Syme winced. The words had been his -Sunday's text.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell you, gentlemen," he said quickly, "since -God gave Eve to Adam there has not been on -earth a sweeter, truer maid than this. You have -heard me declare my love for her. Well, I love -her more than I dare trust my tongue to utter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how about your love for the Covenants? -And for the Faithful Remnant of the persecuted -Kirk of the Martyrs?" said Drows, with a certain -dreary persistence that wore on Allan Syme like -prolonged toothache.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Matthew Carment, who, though slower -than the ruling elder, but was not less sure, gave -in his contribution.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Like unto Eve,' said ye? A true word—verily, -a most true word! For did not we with our own -eyes see ye with her partake of the forbidden -fruit? But there is a difference—</span><em class="italics">your</em><span> eyes, young -man, have not yet been opened!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan Syme began to grow angry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am a free agent," he said fiercely. "I am -not a child under bonds. You are not my tutors -and governors by any law, human or divine. -Nor am I answerable to you whom I shall woo, -or whom I shall wed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ye are answerable to God and the Kirk!" -cried the two with one voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And to this Matthew Carment again added -his say. The three were now walking slowly in -the direction of the lamb sale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir, I mind how ye well described the so-called -ministers of the establishment—'locusts on -the face of our land,' these were your words, -'instruments of inefficiency, the plague spot upon -the nation, the very scorn of Reformation, and a -scandal to Religion!' Ye said well, minister; -and the spawn of Belial is like unto Belial!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan Syme was now angry exceedingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God be my judge," he cried, "she whom I -love is more Christian than the whole pack of -you. Never has she spoken an ill word of any, -ever since I have known her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And wherefore should she?" said John Allanson -of Drows, as dispassionately as a clerk -reading an indictment. "Hath she not been -clothed in fine linen and fared sumptuously every -day? Hath she not eaten of the fine flour and -the honey and the oil? Hath she not been -adorned with broidered work and shod with -badger skin, and, even as her sisters Aholah and -Aholibah of old, hath not power been given unto -her to lead even the hearts of the elect captive?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Allan Syme broke forth furiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your tongues are evil!" he said, "ye are not -fit to take her name on your lips. She is to me -as the mother of our Lord—yes, as Mary, the -wife of Joseph, the carpenter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And indeed I never thocht sae muckle o' that -yin either," said Matthew of Craigs, "the Papishes -make ower great a to-do about her for my liking!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Matthew Carment and John Allanson, I bid -you hearken to me," cried the young minister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, Allan Syme, we will hearken!" they -answered, fronting him eye to eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God judge between you and me," he said. -"He hath said that for this cause shall a man -leave father and mother, and cleave unto his wife. -Now, I know well that if ye like, you two can take -from me my kirk and all my living. But I have -spoken, and I will adhere. I have promised, and -I will keep. Take this my parting message. Do -your duty as it is revealed to you. I will go forth -freely and willingly. Naked I came among -you—naked will I go. The hearts of my people are -dearer to me than life. Ye can twine them from -me if you will. Ye can out me from my kirk, -send me forth of my manse—cast me upon the -world as a man disgraced. But, as I am a sinner -answerable to God, there are two things you -cannot do, ye cannot make me break my plighted -word nor make me other than proud of the love I -have won from God's fairest creature upon earth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with these words he turned on his heel -and strode straight uphill away from them in the -direction of his distant home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two men stood looking after him. Drows -stroked his shaggy fringe of beard. Matthew -Carment put his hand to his eyes and gazed -under it as if he had been looking into the sunset. -There was a long silence. At last the two turned -and looked at each other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Weel, what think ye?" said Drows, ruling elder -and natural leader in debate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a still longer pause, for Matthew -Carment was a man slow by nature and slower -by habit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a fine lad!" he said at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Drows broke a twig elaborately from the hedge -and chewed the ends.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I was thinkin'!" he answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had it in my mind at the time he was -speakin'," began Matthew, and then hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, what was in your mind?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was thinkin' on the days when I courted Jean!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was another long silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Draws who broke it this time, and he -said, "I—I was thinkin' too, Mathy! Aye, man, -I was thinkin'!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aboot Marget?" queried Matthew Carment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Na, no aboot Marget!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were silent again. The ruling elder -settled to another green sprig of hedge-thorn. -It seemed palatable. He got on well with it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Man," he said at last, "do ye ken, Mathy—when -he turned on us like yon, I was kind o' -prood o' him. My heart burned within me. It -was maybe no verra like a minister o' the Kirk. -But, oh man, it was awesome human!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I judge we'll say nae mair aboot it!" -said Matthew Carment, turning towards the farm -where the lamb sale was by this time well under -weigh. "Hoo mony are ye thinkin' o' biddin' -for the day, Drows?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-suit-of-bottle-green"><span class="bold large">THE SUIT OF BOTTLE GREEN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At the Manse of Dullarg things did not go over -well. Dr. Stuart, being by nature a quick, -passionate, and imperious Celt, had first of all -ordered his daughter to promise never again to hold -any communication with the young Cameronian -minister of Cairn Edward. It was thus that he -himself had been taught to understand family -discipline. He was the head of the clan, as his -father had been before him. He claimed to be -Providence to all within his gates. His hand of -correction was not withheld from his boys, Frank -and Sandy, until the day they ran away from home -to escape him. He could not well adopt this plan -to the present case, but when Elspeth refused point -blank to give any promise, her father promptly -convoyed his daughter to her own room and -locked her up there. She would stay where she -was till she changed her mind. Her aunt would -take up her meals, and he himself would undertake -to inform her as to her duties and responsibilities -at suitable intervals. There was not the least -doubt in the mind of Dr. Stuart as to the result -of such a course of treatment. Had he not willed -it? That was surely enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But his sister was not so sure, though she did -not dare to say so to the Doctor more than once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is a very headstrong girl, Murdo," she -said, tremulously, as she gathered Elspeth's scanty -breakfast on a tray next morning, "it might drive -her to some rash act!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense," retorted her brother, sharply, "did -not our father do exactly the same to you, to keep -you from marrying young Campbell of Luib?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mary Stuart's wintry-apple face twitched and -flushed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—yes," she fluttered, with a quaver in -her voice, as if deprecating further allusion to -herself, "but Elspeth is not like me, Murdo. She -has more of your spirit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me hear no more of the matter," said her -brother, turning away, "</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> wish it, and besides, I -have my sermon to write."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when the maiden aunt knocked at the door -and entered with Elspeth's breakfast, she was -astonished to find the girl sitting by the window -dressed exactly as she had been on the previous -evening. Her face was very pale, but her lips -were compressed and her eyes dry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elspeth," she said uncertainly, her woman's -intuition in a moment detecting that which a man -might not have discovered at all, "you have not -had off your clothes all night. You have never -been to bed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Aunt Mary!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what will the Doctor say—think of -your father——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not care what he will say. Let him come -and compel me if he can. He can thrash me as -he does Frank."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But—oh, Elspeth—Elspeth, dear," the old lady -trembled so much that she just managed to -lay the tray down on the untouched bed opposite -the window, "what will God say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Like as a father pitieth his children,' isn't -that what it says?" The words came out of the -depths of the bitterness of that young heart, -"well, if that be true, God will say nothing; for -if He is like my father, He will not care!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old lady sat down on an old rocking-chair -which Elspeth liked to keep in the window to -sit in and read, half because it had been her -mother's, and half (for Elspeth was not usually -a sentimental young woman) because it was -comfortable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put her hands to her face and sobbed into -them. Then for the first time Elspeth looked -at her. Hitherto she had been staring straight -out at the window. So she had seen the day pass -and the night come. So she had seen and not -seen, heard and not heard the shadow of night -sweep across the broad river, the stars come out, -the cue owls mew as they flashed past silent as -insects on the wing, and last of all, the rooks -clamour upwards from the tall trees at break -of day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, however, she watched her aunt weeping -with that curious sense of detachment which comes -to the young along with a first great sorrow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should </span><em class="italics">she</em><span> weep?" Elspeth was asking -herself, "she had nothing to cry for. There can -be no sorrow in the world like my sorrow and -shame—and </span><em class="italics">his</em><span>, that is, if he really cares. Perhaps -he does not care. They say in books that men -often pretend. But no—he at least never could -do that. He is too true, too simple, too -direct—and he loves me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she watched her aunt rock to and fro and -sob without any pity in her heart, but only with -a growing wonderment—much as a condemned -man might look at a companion who was -complaining of toothache. The long vigil of the night -had made the girl's heart numb and dead within -her. At twenty sorrow and joy alike arrive in -superlatives.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then quite suddenly a spasm of pity of a -curious sort came to Elspeth Stuart. After all, -it was worth while to love. </span><em class="italics">He</em><span> was suffering too. -Aunt Mary had no one to love her—to suffer with -her. Poor Aunt Mary! So she went quickly across -and laid her hand on the thin shoulder. It felt -angular even through the dress. The sobs shook it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not cry, auntie," she said, softly and -kindly. "I am sorry I vexed you. I did not know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old lady looked up at her niece. Elspeth -started at the sight of a tear stealing down a -wrinkle. Tears on young faces are in place. -They can be kissed away, but this seemed wrong -somehow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She patted the thin cheek which had already -begun to take on the dry satiny feel of age, which -is so different from the roseleaf bloom of youth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you will obey your father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The words came tremulously. The pale lips -"wickered." The tear had trickled thus far now, -but Aunt Mary did not know it. It is only youth -that tastes its own tears. And generally rather -likes the flavour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elspeth did not stop petting her aunt. She -stroked the soft hair, thinning now and silvering. -Then she smiled a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she said, "I will </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> obey my father, -Aunt Mary. I am no child to be put in the -corner. I am a woman, and know what I want."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet it was only during the past night watches -that she had known it for certain. But yesterday -her desire to see Allan Syme had been no more -than a little ache deep down in her heart. Now -it had become all her life. So fertile a soil -wherein to grow love is injudicious opposition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But at any rate you will take your breakfast?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To please you I will try, aunt!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Mary plucked up heart at once. This -was better. She had made a beginning. The -rest would follow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she went downstairs her brother came out -of his study to get the key of his daughter's room. -She told him how that Elspeth had never gone to -bed, and had barely picked at her breakfast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Stuart made no remark. He turned and -went into his study again to work at his sermon. -He too thought that all went well. He held that -belief which causes so much misery in the world, -that woman's will must always bend before man's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it does—provided the man is the right man.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On the third day of her confinement Elspeth -Stuart wrote a letter. It began without ceremony, -and ended without signature:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You told me that you loved me. Tell it me -again—on paper. I am very unhappy. My father -keeps me locked up to make me promise never to -speak to you or write to you. I do not mind -this, except that I cannot go to Lowe's Seat. -But I must be assured that you continue to love -me. I know you do, but all the same I want to -be told it. If you address, 'Care of the Widow -Barr, at the Village of Crosspatrick,' Frank will -bring it safely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a simple epistle, without lofty aspirations -or wise words. But it was a loving letter, and -admirably adapted to prove satisfactory to its -recipient. And had Allan Syme known what was -on its way to him he would have lifted up his -heart. He was completing his pastoral visitation, -and with a sort of fixed despair awaiting the -next meeting of Session. For neither his ruling -elder nor yet that slow-spoken veteran, Matthew -Carment, had passed a word more to him concerning -the vision they had seen upon the fringes -of the Airds woods, on the day that had proved -such a day of doom to his sweetheart and -himself.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Frank Stuart, keenly sympathetic with Elspeth's -sufferings though notably contemptuous of their -cause, willingly performed what was required of -him. Being as yet untouched by love, he thought -Elspeth extremely silly. He had no interest -ministers. If Elspeth had fallen in love with a -soldier now—he meant to be a sailor himself, but -a soldier was at least somebody in the scheme -of things. Of course, his father was a minister—but -then people must have fathers. This was -different. However, it was not his business: girls -were all silly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And on this broad principle Master Frank -took his stand. With equal breadth of view he -conveyed the letter to the "Weedow's" at -Crosspatrick, en route for the Cameronian manse at -Cairn Edward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But before he set out, he must have his grumble. -He was beneath the window of his sister's room -at the time. His father had been under -observation all the morning, and was now safely off on -his visitations. By arrangement with Aunt Mary, -Elspeth was allowed the run of the whole upper -story of the Dullarg Manse during Dr. Stuart's -daily absences. So, on parole, she came to this -little window in the gable end, where Frank -and she could commune without fear of foreign -observation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What for could ye no have promised my father -onything—and then no done it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The suggestion betrayed Master Frank's own -plan of campaign, and renders more excusable -the Doctor's frequent appeal to the argument of -the hazel.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After this there ensued for Elspeth a long and -weary time. Every day Frank, detaching himself -from the untrustworthy Sandy, slid off down the -waterside to Crosspatrick. Every day he returned -empty-handed and contemptuous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This it was to love a minister, and one who -was not even a "regular." Why had not Elspeth, -if she must fall in love, chosen a sailor?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In those days there was no regular postal -delivery on the remoter country districts. The -mails came in an amateurish sort of way by coach -to Cairn Edward, and thereafter distributed themselves, -as it were, automatically. When the postage -was paid, the authorities had no more care in the -matter. Yet there was a kind of system in the -thing, too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was understood that any one being in Cairn -Edward on business should "give a look in" at the -Post Office, and if there were any letters for his -neighbourhood, and he happened to have in his pocket -the necessary spare "siller" at the moment, he would -pay the postage and bring them to the "Weedow -Barr's" shop in the village of Crosspatrick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It may be observed that there were elements -of uncertainty inseparable from such an arrangement. -And these told hard on our poor prisoner -of fate during these great endless midsummer -days. She pined and grew pale, like a woodland -bird shut suddenly in a close cage at that season -when mate begins to call to mate through all the -copses of birch and alder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He does not love me—oh, he cannot love -me!" she moaned. But again, as she thought -of the stile on the way to Lowe's Seat—"But -he does love me!" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, sudden as a falling star, Fear fell on that -green summer world. There came a weird sough -through all the valley, a crying of folk to each -other across level holms, shrill answerings of herd -to herd on the utmost hills. The scourge of God -had come again! The Cholera—the Cholera! -Dread word, which we in these times have almost -forgot the thrill of in our flesh. Mysteriously and -inevitably the curse swept on. It was at Leith -at Glasgow—at Dumfries—at Cairn Edward. It -was coming! coming! coming! Nearer, nearer -ever nearer!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And men at the long scythe, sweeping the lush -meadow hay aside with that most prideful of all -rustic gestures, fell suddenly chill and shuddered -to their marrows. The sweat of endeavour dried -on them, and left them chill, as if the night wind -had stricken them. Women with child swarfed -with fear at their own door cheeks, and there -was a crying within long ere the posset-cup could -be made ready. Neighbour looked with sudden -suspicion at neighbour, and men at friendly talk -upon the leas manoeuvred to get to windward -of each other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Death was coming—had come! And in his -study, grim and unmoved, Dr. Murdo Stuart -sat preparing his Sabbath's sermon on the text, -"Therefore ... because I will do this unto thee, -prepare to meet thy God, O Israel!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in the shut chamber above Elspeth waited -and watched, the hope that is deferred making -her young heart sicker and ever sicker. Still she -had not heard. No answering word had reached -her, and it was now the second week. He did -not love her—he could not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">But still!</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had told her nothing, and, indeed, during -that first time of fear and uncertainty, they knew -nothing for certain, away up by themselves in the -wide wild moor parish of Dullarg. There were -no market days in Cairn Edward any more. So -much the farmers knew. The men of the landward -parishes set guards with loaded guns upon -every outgoing road. There was no local authority -in those days, and men in such cases had to look -to themselves. The infected place, be it city, -town, or village, farm-steading or cottage, was -completely and bitterly isolated. None might -come out or go in. Provisions, indeed, were left -in a convenient spot; but secretly and by night. -And the bearer shot away again, bent half to -the ground with eagerness, fear, and speed, a -cloth to his mouth, for the very wind that passed -over him was Death. It was not so much a -disease as a certain Fate. Whoso was smitten was -taken. In fact, to all that rustic world it was -the Visitation of Very God.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the main street of Cairn Edward grass -grew; yet the place was not unpopulous. With -the revival of trade and industry during the later -years of the great war a cotton mill had been -erected in a side street. The houses of the work -folk were strung out from it. Then parallel with -this there was a more ancient main street of low -beetle-browed houses, many of them entering -by a step down off the uneven causeway. At -the upper end, near the Cross, were some -better-class houses, some of them of two stories, a -change-house or two, and down on the damp -marshy land towards the loch, the cluster of -huts which had formed the original nucleus of -the village—now fallen into disrepute and -disrepair, and nominated, from the nationality of -many of its inhabitants, "Little Dublin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In ten days a third of the inhabitants of this -suburb had died. There was but one minister -within the strait bounds of the straggling village. -The parish church and manse lay two miles away -out on a braeface overlooking yellowing widths -of corn-land. And the minister thereof abode in -his breaches, every day giving God thank that -he was not shut up within those distant white -streets, from which, day by day, the housewifely -reek rose in fewer and fewer columns.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Allan Syme was within, and could not -pause to marry or to give in marriage, to preach -or to pray, so full of his Master's business was -he. For he must nurse and succour by day and -bury by night, week day and Holy Day. He -it was who upheld the dying head. He swathed -the corpse while it was yet warm. He tolled -the death-bell in the steeple. He harnessed the -horse to the rude farm-cart. Sometimes all alone -he dug the grave in the soft marshy flow, and -laid the dead in the brown peat-mould. For -it was no time to stand upon trifles this second -time that the Scourge of God had come to -Cairn Edward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To the outer limit of the cordon of watchers -came the carriers and the farmers, the country -lairds' servants, and less frequently the bien -well-stomached meal millers. In silence they deposited -their goods, for the most part with no niggard hand. -In silence they took the fumigated pound notes, -smelling of sulphur, or the silver coin of the realm, -with the crumbles of quick-lime still sticking to -the milling of the edges.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So across a kind of neutral zone, fearful -country and infected town stood glowering at -each other like embattled enemies, musket laid -ready in the crook of elbow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when one mad with the Fear tried to -cross, he was hunted like a wild beast, or shot -at like a rabbit running for its burrow. And the -townsmen did in like manner. For ill as it -might fare with them, there was deadlier yet to -fear. In Cairn Edward they had the White -Cholera, as it was called. The Black was at -Dumfries—so, at least, the tale ran.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as he went about his work, Allan Syme -called upon his God, and thought of Elspeth. But -her letter never reached him, and he knew nothing -of her vigils. The day before he might have -known the Fear fell, and the door was shut.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was on Saturday afternoon that the tidings -came to Elspeth Stuart, lonely watcher and loving -heart. It was her brother Sandy who brought -them. He knew nothing of Elspeth's matters, -being young and by nature unworthy of trust. He -had been down to Crosspatrick on some errand, and -now, having arrived back within hailing distance, -he was retailing his experiences to his brother -Frank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I got yon letter back frae the Weedow—an', -as I wasna gangin' hame, I gied it to my faither."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">What letter?</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elspeth could hear the sudden angry alarm in -Frank's voice; but she herself had no premonition -of danger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The letter ye took doon to Crosspatrick for -Elspeth ten days syne. Ye'll catch it, my man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl's heart sank, and then leapt again -within her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her father had her letter—he would read it. -It was plainly addressed in her handwriting to -Allan Syme. What should she do?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But wait—there was something else. With a -quick back-spang came the countering joy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But then he has never got my letter. He -knows nothing of my unhappiness. He has not -forgotten me. He loves me still. What care I -for aught else but that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There came up from the courtyard a sound of -blows, and then Sandy's wail.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll tell my faither on ye, that I will. How -was I to ken aboot Elspeth's letter? And they -say the minister-man it was wrote to is dead, at -ony rate!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elspeth heard unbelievingly. Dead—Allan -dead! And she not know. Absurd! It was -only one of Sandy's lies to irritate his brother -because he had been thrashed. She knew Sandy. -Nevertheless she threw up the window. Sandy -was again at his parable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They buried twenty-five yesterday in the moss. -The minister was there wi' the last coffin, and fell -senseless across it. He never spoke again. He -is to be buried the morn if they can get the -coffin made!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, so soon as she was convinced that Sandy -was not inventing, and that he had only repeated the -gossip of the village, a kind of cold calmness took -hold of Elspeth. She called Frank in to her, and -when he came, lo! his face was far whiter than hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She made him tell her all they had kept from -her—of the dread plague that had fallen so sudden -and swift upon the townlet to which Allan had -carried her heart. Then she thought awhile -fiercely, not wavering in her purpose, but only -trying this way and that, like one who thrusts with -his staff for the safest passage over a dangerous -bog. Frank watched her keenly, but could make -nothing of her intent. At last she spoke:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go and get me the key of your box."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do ye want with the key of my box?" -queried her brother, astonished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never heed that," said Elspeth, clipping her -words imperiously, as, in seasons of stress, she -had a way of doing; "do as I bid you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And being accustomed to such obediences, and -albeit sorry for her, Frank went out, only remarking -ominously that he would have a job, for that -Aunt Mary carried it on her bunch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came back in exactly ten minutes, and threw -the key on the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Easier than I expected," he said, triumphantly; -"the old buzzer was asleep!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give me the key," said Elspeth, still in a brown -study by the window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this was too much for Frank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pick it up for yourself, Els," he said, "and -mind you are to swear you found it on the floor!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Frank knew very well that if one is going to -lie back and forth (as he intended to do when -questioned), it is well to be prepared with occasional -little scraps of truth. They cheer one up so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Elspeth took the key, and hid it in her pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now you can go," she said, and sat down on -the bed, staring out at the broad river quietly -slipping by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you might at least have said 'thank -you——'" began Frank. But catching the -expression of her face, he suddenly desisted, and -went out without another word.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>No, Allan Syme was not dead. But he staggered -home that night certainly more dead than alive. -All day long he had moved in an atmosphere -of the most appalling pestilence. The reek of -mortality seemed to solidify in his nostrils, and -his heart for the first time fainted within him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He knew that there would be no welcome for -him in the dark and lonely manse; no meal, no -comfort, no living voice; not so much as a dog -to lick his hand. His housekeeper, a mere hireling, -had fled at the first alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was dusk as he thrust the key into the -latch, as he did so staggering against the lintel -from sheer weariness. He stood a little while in -the passage, shuddering with the oncomings of -mortal sickness. Then with flint, steel, and -laborious tinder box he coaxed a light for the -solitary taper on the hall table. This done, he -turned aside into the little sitting-room on the -right hand, where he kept his divinity books.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A slight figure came forward to meet him, with -upturned face and clasped petitionary hands. -The action was a girl's, but the dress and figure -were those of a boy. Upon the threshold the -minister stopped dead. He thought that this was -the first symptom of delirium—he had seen it in -so many, and had watched for it in himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the lad still came forward, and laid a hand -on his arm. He wore a suit of bottle green with -silver buttons, a world too wide for his slim form. -Knee breeches and buckled shoes completed his -attire. Allan Syme stared wide-eyed, uncomprehending, -his hand pressed to his aching brow in -the effort to see truly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not dead. Thank God!" said the -boy, in a voice that took him by the throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who—who are you?" The words came dry -and gasping from the minister's parched lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">I am Elspeth—do you not know me?</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elspeth—Elspeth—why did you come here—and thus?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They told me you were dead—and my father -locked me up! And—what chance had a girl -to pass the guards? They fired at me—see!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And lifting a wet curl from her brow, she -showed a wound.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elspeth—Elspeth—what is all this? What -have they done to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing—nothing—it is but a scratch. The -man almost missed me altogether."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beloved, what have you done with your hair?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cut it off, that I might the better deceive -them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elspeth—you must go back! This is no -place for you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will not go back home. I will die first!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Elspeth, think if any one saw you—what -would they say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I came to help you—to nurse you! I -do not care what they would say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear—my dear, you cannot bide here. -I would to God you could; but you cannot. I -must think how to get you away. I must -think—I must think!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The minister, sick unto death, stood with his hand -still pressed to his brow. At sight of him, and -because, after all she had gone through for him, he -had given her neither welcome nor kiss, a swift -spasm of anger flashed up into Elspeth's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are ashamed of me, Allan Syme—let -me go. I will never see you more. You do -not love me! I will not trouble you. Open -the door!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God knows I love you better than my soul!" -said Allan; "but let me think. Father in -heaven—I cannot think! My brain runs round."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave a slight lurch like a felled ox, and -swayed forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instantly, as a lamp that the wind blows out, -all the anger went out of Elspeth Stuart's eyes. -She caught Allan in her strong young arms and -laid him on the worn couch, displacing with a -sweep of her hand a whole score of volumes as -she laid him down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lay a moment stiff and still. Then a -spasm of pain contorted his features. He opened -his eyes, and looked into his sweetheart's eyes. -Then, with the swift astonishing clearness of the -mortally stricken, he saw what must be done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan, Allan, what is the matter—what shall -I do for you?" she mourned over him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do this," answered the minister. "Take the -cloak out of that cupboard there. I have never -worn it. Go straight to John Allanson. He -is my Ruling Elder. He bides at his daughter's -house close by the cotton mill. Tell him all, -and bid him come to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The dreadful man who was so angry—that -day at Lowe's Seat!" she objected, not fearing -for herself, but for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is not a dreadful man. Do as I bid you, -childie; I am sick, but I judge not unto death!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you may die before I return!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do as I bid you, Elspeth," said the minister, -waving her away; "not a hundred choleras can -deprive me of one minute God has appointed mine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She bent over quickly, and kissed him on lips -and brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There—and there! Now if you die, I will -die too. Remember that! And I do not care -now. I will go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Saying this, she rushed from the room.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was a strange visitor who came to the house -of the Elder's daughter that evening, as the gloaming -fell darker, her feet making no sound on the -deserted and grass-grown streets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A young laddie wants to see you, father," said -John Allanson's married daughter, with whom he -had been lodging for a night when the plague -came, in a single hour putting a great gulf between -town and country. Then, finding his minister -alone, he was not the man to leave him to fight -the battle single-handed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shamefacedly Elspeth crept in. The old man -and his daughter were by themselves, the husband -not yet home from the joiner's shop, where the -hammers went </span><em class="italics">tap-tap</em><span> at the plain deal coffins all -day and all night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The minister is dying—come and help him -or he will die!" she cried, as they sat looking -curiously at her in the clear, leaping red of the -firelight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you, laddie?" said the elder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am no laddie," said Elspeth, redder than the -peat ashes. "Oh, I am shamed—I am shamed! -But I could not help it. And I am not sorry! -They told me he was dead. I am Elspeth Stuart, -of the Dullarg Manse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The elder sat gazing at her, open-mouthed, -leaning forward, his hands on his knees. But -his daughter, with the quick sympathy of woman, -held out her arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My puir lassie!" she said. She had once lost -a bairn, her only one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Elspeth wept on her bosom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The daughter waved her father to the door with -one hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She will tell me easier!" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And straightway the old man went out into -the dark.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It did not take long to tell, with Allan Syme -lying so near to the gates of death. Almost in -less time than it needs to write it, Elspeth was -arrayed, so far at least as outer seeming went, -in the garments of her sex. A basket was filled -with the necessities which were kept ready for -such an emergency in every house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, father," the loving wife cried at the -door; "I will tell you as we gang!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And before she had won third way through -her story, John Allanson had taken Elspeth's -hand in his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My bairn! my bairn!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this manner Elspeth came the second time -to the Manse of Allan Syme.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But the third time was as the mistress thereof. -For she and the elder's daughter nursed Allan -Syme through into safety. For the very day that -Allan was stricken, a great rain fell and a great -wind blew. The birds came back to the gardens -of Cairn Edward, and the plague lifted. In time, -too, Dr. Stuart submitted with severe grace to -that which he could not help.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, it was all my fault, father," Elspeth -said; "I made Allan come back by the stile. I -had made up my mind that he should. I knew -he would kiss me there!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I can only hope," answered her father, -severely, lifting up his gold-knobbed cane and -shaking it at her to emphasise his point, "that -by this time your husband has learned the secret -of making you obey him. It is more than ever -your father did!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-scientific-symposium"><span class="bold large">A SCIENTIFIC SYMPOSIUM</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">(</span><em class="italics small">Being some Hitherto Unobserved Phenomena of Feminine -Psychology from the notebook of A. McQuhirr, -M.D. Edin.</em><span class="small">)</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>These papers of mine have been getting out of -hand of late. I am informed from various quarters -that they are becoming so exceedingly popular -and discursive in their character, that they are -enough to ruin the reputation of any professing -man of science. I will therefore be severe with -myself (and, incidentally, with my readers), and -occupy one or two papers with a consideration -of some of the minor characteristics common to -the female sex. Indeed, upon a future occasion -I may even devote an entire work to this subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have mentioned before that my wife's younger -sister was called the "Hempie,"[#] which, being -interpreted, signifies a wild girl. This had certainly -been her character at one time; and though she -deserves the name less now than of yore, all her -actions are still marked by conspicuous decision -and independence.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Some of the earlier and less reputable of the "Hempie's" -adventures may be found in a certain unscientific work -entitled "Lad's Love."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>For instance, the year after Nance and I were -married, the Hempie abruptly claimed her share -of her mother's money, and departed to Edinburgh -"to get learning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now it was a common thing enough in our -part of the country for boys to go out on such -a quest. It was unheard of in a girl. And the -parish would have been shocked if the emigrant -had been any other than the Hempie. But Miss -Elizabeth Chrystie, daughter of Peter of Nether -Neuk, was a young woman not accustomed to -be bound by ordinary rules. In person she had -grown up handsome rather than pretty, and was -so athletic that she stood in small need of the -ordinary courtesies which girls love—hands over -stiles, and so forth. Eyes and hair of glossy jet, -the latter crisping naturally close to her head, -a healthy colour in her cheeks, an ironic curl to -her firm fine lips,—that is how our Hempie came -back to us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of her career in the metropolis, of the boarding-school -dames, strait-laced and awful, whom she -scandalised, the shut ways of learning which -somehow were opened before her, I have no room here -to tell. It is sufficient to say that out of all this -the Hempie came home to Nether Neuk, and at -once established herself as the wonder of the -neighbourhood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nance was gone, Grace going; Clemmy Kilpatrick, -the unobtrusive little woman whom Peter -Chrystie had married as a kind of foot-warmer, had -been laid aside for six weeks with an "income" on -her knee. The maidservants naturally took -advantage. Every individual pot and pan in the house -cumbered the back kitchen unwashed and begrimed. -In the byres you did not walk—you waded. The -ploughmen hung about the house half the morning, -gossiping with the half-idle maidens. The very -herds on the hill eluded Peter's feeble judicature, -and lay asleep behind dyke-backs, while the -week-weaned lambs, with many tail-wagglings, rejoined -their mothers on the pastures far below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Upon this confusion enter the New Hempie. -And with her gown pinned up and a white apron -on that met behind her shapely figure, she set -to and helped the servants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In six days she had the farm town of Nether -Neuk in such a state of perfection as it had not -known since my own Nance left it. For Grace, -though a good girl enough, cared not a jot for -house work. Her sphere was the dairy and -cheese-room, where in an atmosphere of simmering curds -and bandaged cheddars she reigned supreme.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So much to indicate to those who are not -acquainted with Miss Elizabeth Chrystie the kind -of girl she was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the rest, she despised love and held wooers -in contempt, as much as she had done in the old -days when she ascended the roofs of the pigstyes, -and climbed into the beech-tree tops in the -courtyard of Nether Neuk, rather than meet me face to -face as I went to pay my court to her eldest sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Love——" she said, scornfully, when I -questioned her on the subject the first time she -came to see us at Cairn Edward, "</span><em class="italics">love</em><span>—have -Nance and you no got ower sic nonsense yet? -</span><em class="italics">Love</em><span>——" (still more scornfully); "as if I hadna -seen as much of that as will serve me for my -lifetime, wi' twa sisters like Grace and Nance -there!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It did not take us much by surprise, therefore, -when one morning, while we sat at breakfast, -the Hempie dropped in with the announcement -that she could not stand her father any longer, -and that she had engaged herself to be governess -in the house of a certain Major Randolph Fergus -of Craignesslin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To a young lady so determined there was -no more to be said. Besides which, the Hempie -was of full age, perfectly independent as far as -money went, and more than independent in -character.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now," she said, "I have just fifteen minutes -to catch my train: how am I to get my bag up -to the station?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you wait," I said, "the gig will be round -at the door in seven minutes. I have a case, or -I should go up with you myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is driving the gig?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tad Anderson," said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Hempie picked up a pair of tan gloves -and straightened her tall lithe figure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-morning," she said; "give me a lift -with my box and wraps to the door. I would -not trust Tad Anderson to get to the station -in time if he had seven hours to do it in!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the door a boy was passing with a grocer's -barrow. The Hempie swung her box upon it -with a deft strong movement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take that to the station, boy," she commanded, -"and tell Muckle Aleck that Elizabeth Chrystie -of the Nether Neuk will be up in ten minutes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But—but," stammered the boy, astonished, -"I hae thae parcels to deliver."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then deliver them on your road down!" -said the Hempie. And her right hand touched -the boy's left for an instant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A' richt, mem!" he nodded, and was off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't trouble, Alec. Nance, bide where you -are—I have three calls to make on the way up. -Good-morning!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the Hempie was off. We watched her -through the little oriel window, Nance nestling -against my coat sleeve pleasantly, and, in the -shadow of the red stuff curtain, even surreptitiously -kissing my shoulder—a thing I had often -warned her against doing in public. So I reproved -her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nance, mind what you are about, for heaven's -sake! Suppose anyone were to see you. It is -enough to ruin my professional reputation to -have you do that on a market day in your own -front window."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, please may I hold your hand?" (Then, -piteously, and, if I might call it so, -"Nancefully") "You know I shall not see you all day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Hempie would not do a thing like that!" -I answer, severely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nance watches the supple swing of her sister's -figure, from the stout-soled practical boots to the -small erect head, with its short black curls and -smart brown felt hat with the silver buckle at -the side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she said, "she wouldn't." Then, after a -sigh, she added, "Poor Hempie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was the last we saw of our sister for -more than a year. Elizabeth Chrystie did not -come back even for Grace's marriage to the laird -of Butterhole.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am of more use where I am," she wrote. -"Tell Grace I am sending her an alarm clock!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whether this was sarcasm on the Hempie's part, -I am not in a position to say. Grace had always -been the sleepy-head of the family. If, however, -it was meant ironically, the sarcasm was wasted, -for Grace was delighted with the present.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is so useful, you know," the Mistress of -Butterhole told Nance. "I set it every morning -for four o'clock. It is so nice to turn over and -know that you do not need to get up till eight!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As suddenly as she had gone away, so suddenly -the Hempie returned, giving reasons to no man. -I am obliged to say that even I would never -have known the true story of the adventures -which follows had I not shamefully played the -eavesdropper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It happened this way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My study, where I try upon occasion to do a -little original work and keep myself from dropping -into the rut of the pill-and-potion practitioner so -common in rural districts, is next the little room -where Nance sits reading, or sewing at the -garmentry, white and mysterious, which some women -seem never to be able to let out of their reach. -Here I have a small wall-press, in which I keep -my microscopes and preparations. It is divided -by a single board from a similar one belonging -to Nance on the other side. When both doors -are open you can hear as well in one room as -in the other. I often converse with Nance without -rising, chiefly as to how long it will be till -dinner-time, together with similar important and -soul-elevating subjects. But it never seems to strike -her that I can hear as easily what is said in -her room when I am not expected to hear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, if you are an observant man, you have -noticed, I daresay, that so soon as women are -alone together, they begin to talk quite -differently from what they have done when they had -reason to know of your masculine presence. Yes, it -is true—especially true of your nearest and dearest. -Men do something of the same kind when women -go out after dinner. But quite otherwise. A -man becomes at once broader and louder, more -unrestrained in quotation, allusion, illustration, -more direct in application. His vocabulary -expands. In anecdote he is more abounding -and in voice altogether more natural. But with -women it is not so. They do not look blankly -at the tablecloth or toy with the stem of a -wineglass, as men do when the other sex vanishes. -They glance at each other. A gentle smile -glimmers from face to face, in which is a world -of irony and comprehension. It says, "They -are gone—the poor creatures. We can't quite -do without them; but oh, are they not funny -things?" Then they exchange sighs equally -gentle. If you listen closely you can hear a little -subdued rustle. That is the chairs being moved -gently forward nearer each other—not dragged, -mark you, as a man would do. A man has no -proper respect for a carpet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, dear——?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then they begin really to talk. They have -only "conversed" so far. How do I know all -this? Well, that's telling. As I say, I -eavesdropped part of it—in the interests of science. -But the facts are true, in every case.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Hempie came in one Saturday morning. -It was in August, and a glorious day. There was -nothing pressing. I had been out early at the -only case which needed to be seen to till I went -on my afternoon round.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nance was upstairs giving a wholly supererogatory -attention to a certain young gentleman who -had already one statutory slave to anticipate his -wants. He was getting ready to be carried into -the garden. I could detect signs from the -basement that cook also was tending nursery-wards. -The shrine would have its full complement of -devout worshippers shortly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was thus that I came to be the first to -welcome the Hempie upon her return. She -opened the glass door and walked in without -ceremony, putting her umbrella in the rack and -hanging her hat on a peg like a man, not bringing -them in to cumber a bedroom as a woman does. -These minor differences of habit in the sexes have -never been properly collated and worked out. As -I said before, I think I must write a book on the -subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At any rate, the Hempie's action was the -exception which proved the rule.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she strolled nonchalantly into my study -and flung herself into a chair without shaking -hands. I leaped to my feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hempie," I cried, "I am dreadfully glad to -see you." And I stooped to kiss her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To my utter astonishment she took the salute as -a matter of course, a thing she had never done before. -Yes, somehow the Hempie was startlingly different.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What," she said, "are you as glad as all that? -What a loving brother!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I think she was pleased all the same.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's Nance?" The question was shot -out rather than asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I indicated the upper regions of the house -with my thumb, and inclined my ear to direct her -attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A high voice of wonderful tone and compass -(if a little thin) was lifted up in a decimating howl. -Ensued a gentle confused murmur: "</span><em class="italics">Didums, -then? Was it, then?</em><span>" together with various lucid -observations of that kind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A change passed over the Hempie's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now we are in for it," I thought. "She will -leave the house and never enter it again. The -Hempie hates babies. She has always been -particularly clear on that point."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Why</em><span> did you never tell me, Alec?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because—because—we thought you would not -care to hear. I understood you didn't like——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it a boy or a girl?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a sudden uprising from the depths -of the easy-chair, a rustle of skirts, the clang of -a door, hasty footsteps on the stairs, a clamour -of voices from which, after a kind of confused -climax as the hope of the house blared his woes -like a young bull of Bashan, there finally emerged -the following remarkable sentiments:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, the darling! Isn't he a </span><em class="italics">pet</em><span>? Give him -to me. Was they bad to him? Then—well then! -They shan't—no, indeed they shan't! Now, then! -Didums, then!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And </span><em class="italics">da capo</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could not believe my ears. The words were -the words of Nance, but the voice was undoubtedly -the voice of the Hempie. It was half an hour -and more before they descended the stairs, the -Hempie still carrying young "Bull of Bashan," -now pacifically sucking his thumb and gazing -serenely through and behind his nurse in the -disconcerting way which is common to infants of the -human species—and cats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Hempie passed out across the little strip -of garden we had at the back. The sunlight -checkered the grass, and the new nurse carried -her charge as if she had never done anything else -all her life. Every moment she would stop to -coo at him. Then she would duck her head like -a turtle-dove bowing to his mate; and finally, -as if taken by some strange contortive disease, -she would bend her neck suddenly and nuzzle -her whole face into the child's, as a pet pony does -into your hand—a hot, fatiguing, and wholly -unscientific proceeding on an August day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I called Nance back on pretext of matters -domestic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter with the Hempie?" I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Matter with the Hempie?" repeated Nance, -trying vainly to look blank. "Why, what should -be the matter with the Hempie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't try that on with me, you little fraud. -There </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> something! What is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have not the least idea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you kissed her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, she never looked at me—only at the -baby, </span><em class="italics">of course</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then go and kiss her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nance went off obediently, and the sisters -walked a while together. Presently the baby -took the red thumb out of his mouth, and through -the orifice thus created issued a bellow. The -nurse came running. Nance took him in her -arms, replaced the thumb, and all was well. Then -she handed him back to the Hempie and kissed -her as she did so. The Hempie raised her head -into position naturally, like one well accustomed -to the operation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nance came slowly back and rejoined me. -She was unusually thoughtful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded gravely and shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> true," she murmured, as if convinced -against her will; "there is something. She is -different."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nance," said I, triumphantly, for I was pleased -with myself, "the Hempie is in love at last. -You must find out all about it and tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at me scornfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will do no such thing——" she began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not curiosity—as you seem to think," -I remarked with dignity. "It is entirely in the -interests of science," I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rats!" cried Nance, rudely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I have had occasion to remark more than -once before, she does not show that deference to -her husband to which his sterling worth and many -merits entitle him. Indeed, few wives do—if any.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I will find out for myself," I said, -carelessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">You!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scorn, derision, challenge were never more -briefly expressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll wager you a new riding-whip out of my -house money that you don't find out anything -about it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Done!" said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For I remembered about the little wall-press -where I kept my microscope. Not that I am by -nature an eavesdropper; but, after all, a scientific -purpose—and a new riding-whip, make some -difference.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was busy mounting my slides when I heard -them come in. Instantly I needed some Canada -balsam out of the wall-press—in the interests of -science. I heard Nance go to the door to listen -"if baby was asleep." I have often represented -to her that she does not require to do this, because -the instant baby is awake he advertises the fact -to the whole neighbourhood, as effectually as if -he had been specially designed with a steam -whistle attachment for the purpose. But I have -never succeeded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You think you are a doctor, Alec," is the -answer, "but you know nothing about babies! -You know you don't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Which shows that I must have spent a -considerable part of my medical curriculum in vain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There ensued the soft muffled hush of chairs -being pushed into the window. Then came the -first </span><em class="italics">click-click, jiggity-click</em><span> of a rocking-chair, -which Nance had bought for me "when you are -tired, dear"—and has used ever since herself. I -did not regret this, for it left the deep-seated -chintz-covered one free. They are useless things, -anyway: a man cannot go to sleep on a rocking-chair, -or strike a match under the seat, or stand -on it to put up a picture—or, in fact, do any of -the things for which chairs are really designed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now when a woman goes to sleep in a chair, she -always wakes up cross. All that stuff in romances -about kissing the beloved awake in the dear old -rose-scented parlour, and about the lids rising sweetly -from off loving and happy eyes, is, scientifically -considered, pure nonsense. Believe me, if she -greets you that way the lady has not been asleep -at all, and was waiting for you to do it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when she, on the other hand, wakes with -a start and opens her eyes so promptly that you -step back quickly (having had experience); when -she speaks words like these, "Alec, I have a great -mind to give you a sound box on the ear—coming -waking me up like that, when you know I didn't -have more than an hour's good sleep last night!"—this -is the genuine article. The lady was asleep -that time. The other kind may be pretty enough -to read about, but that is its only merit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Nance who spoke first. I heard her -drop the scissors and stoop to pick them up. -I also gathered from the tone of her first words -that she had a pin in her mouth. Yet she goes -into a fit if baby tries to imitate her, and wonders -where he can learn such habits. This also is -incomprehensible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you left Craignesslin for good?" said -Nance, using a foolish expression for which I have -often reproved her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am going back," said the Hempie. I am -not so well acquainted with the </span><em class="italics">nuances</em><span> of the -Hempie's voice and habit as I am with those of -her sister, but I should say that she was leaning -back in her chair with her hands clasped behind -her head, and staring contentedly out at the -window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought perhaps the death of the old major -would make a difference to you," said Nance. I -knew by the mumbling sound that she was biting -a thread.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It does make a difference," said the Hempie, -dreamily, "and it will make a greater difference -before all be done!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nance was silent for a while. I knew she was -hurt at her sister's lack of communicativeness. -The rocking-chair was suddenly hitched sideways, -and the stroking rose from fifty in the minute to -about sixty or sixty-five, according, as it were, to -the pressure on the boiler.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still the Hempie did not speak a word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rocking-chair was doing a good seventy -now—but it was a spurt, and could not last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elizabeth," said Nance, suddenly, "I did not -think you could be so mean. I never behaved -like this to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No?" said the Hempie, with serene interrogation, -but did not move, so far as I could make out. -The rocking-chair ceased. There was a pause, -painful even to me in my little den. The strain -on the other side of the wall must have been -enormous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Nance spoke it was in a curiously altered -voice. It sounded even pleading. I wish the -Hempie would teach me her secret.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is it?—tell me, Hempie," said Nance, softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I did not catch the answer, though obviously -one was given. But the next moment I heard the -unbalanced clatter of the abandoned rocker, and -then Nance's voice saying: "No, it is impossible!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apparently it was not, however, for presently -I heard the sound of more than one kiss, and I -knew that my dear Mistress Impulsive had her -sister in her arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you know all about it now, Hempie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All about what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't pretend,—about love. You do love -him very much, don't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know. I have never told him so!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hempie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is true, Nance!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why have you come home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To get married!" said the Hempie, calmly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-hempie-s-love-story"><span class="bold large">THE HEMPIE'S LOVE STORY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This is the somewhat remarkable story the Hempie -told my wife as she sat sewing in the little parlour -overlooking the garden, the day Master Alexander -McQuhirr, Tertius, cut his first tooth.[#]</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] This, however, was not discovered till afterwards, and -was then acclaimed as the reason why he cried so much -on the arrival of his aunt Elizabeth. To his nearest relative -on the father's side, however, the young gentleman's -performances seemed entirely normal.—A. McQ.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Elizabeth Chrystie was a free-spoken young -woman, and she told her tale generally in the -English of the schools, but sometimes in the plain -countryside talk she had spoken when, a barefoot -bare-legged lass, she had scrieved the hills, the -companion of every questing collie and scapegrace -herd lad, 'twixt the Bennan and the Butt o' -Benerick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I first got to Craignesslin," said the -Hempie, "I thought I had better turn me about -and come right back again. And if it had not -been for pride, that is just what I should have -done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Were they not kind to you?" asked Nance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kind? Oh, kind enough—it was not that. I -could easily have put an end to any unkindness -by walking over the hill. But I could not. To -tell the truth, the place took hold of me from -the first hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Craignesslin, you know, is a great house, with -many of the rooms unoccupied, sitting high up on -the hills, a place where all the winds blow, and -where the trees are mostly scrubby scrunts of -thorn, turning up their branches like skeleton -hands asking for alms, or shrivelled birches and -cowering firs all bent away from the west.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When first I saw the place I thought that I -could never bide there a day—and now it looks -as if I were going to live there all my life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The hired man from the livery stables in -Drumfern set my box down on the step of the -front door, and drove off as fast as he could. -He had a long way before him, he said, the first -five miles with not so much as a cottage by the -wayside. He meant a public-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was a rude boor. And when I told him -so he only laughed and said: 'For a' that ye'll -maybe be glad to see me the next time I come—even -if I bring a hearse for ye to ride to the -kirkyaird in!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And with that he cracked his whip and drove -out of sight. I was left alone on the doorstep -of the old House of Craignesslin. I looked up at -the small windows set deep in the walls. Above -one of them I made out the date 1658, and over -the door were carven the letters W.F.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I minded the tales my father used to -tell in the winter forenights, of Wicked Wat Fergus -of Craignesslin, how he used to rise from his bed -and blow his horn and ride off to the Whig-hunting -with Lag and Heughan, how he kept a tally on -his bed-post of the men he had slain on the moors, -making a bigger notch all the way round for -such as were preachers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And while I was thinking all this, I stood -knocking for admission. I could not hear a living -thing move about the place. The bell would not -ring. At the first touch the brass pull came away -in my hands, and hung by the wire almost to the -ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet there was something pleasant about the -place too, and if it had not been for the uncanny -silence, I would have liked it well enough. The -hills ran steeply up on both sides, brown with -heather on the dryer knolls, and the bogs yellow and -green with bracken and moss. The sheep wandered -everywhere, creeping white against the hill-breast -or standing black against the skyline. The -whaups cried far and near. Snipe whinnied up -in the lift. Magpies shot from thorn-bush to -thorn-bush, and in the rose-bush by the -door-cheek a goldfinch had built her nest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Still no one answered my knocking, and at -last I opened the door and went in. The door -closed of its own accord behind me, and I found -myself in a great hall with tapestries all round, -dim and rough, the bright colours tarnished with -age and damp. There were suits of armour on -the wall, old leathern coats, broad-swords -basket-hiked and tasselled, not made into trophies, but -depending from nails as if they might be needed -the next moment. Two ancient saddles hung -on huge pins, one on either side of the antique -eight-day clock, which ticked on and on with a -solemn sound in that still place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not see a single thing of modern sort -anywhere except an empty tin which had held -McDowall's Sheep Dip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nance, you cannot think how that simple thing -reassured me. I opened the door again and pulled -my box within. Then I turned into the first -room on the right. I could see the doors of -several other rooms, but they were all dark and -looked cavernous and threatening as the mouths -of cannon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the room to the right was bright and -filled with the sunshine from end to end, though -the furniture was old, the huge chairs uncovered -and polished only by use, and the great oak table -in the centre hacked and chipped. From the -window I could see an oblong of hillside with -sheep coming and going upon it. I opened the -lattice and looked out. There came from somewhere -far underneath, the scent of bees and honeycombs. -I began to grow lonesome and eerie. -Yet somehow I dared not for the life of me -explore further.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a strange feeling to have in the daytime, -and you know, Nance, I used to go up to the -muir or down past the kirkyaird at any hour -of the night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not take off my things. I did not sit -down, though there were many chairs, all of plain -oak, massive and ancient, standing about at all -sorts of angles. One had been overturned by -the great empty fireplace, and a man's worn -riding-glove lay beside it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I stood by the mantelpiece, wondering -idly if this could be Major Fergus's glove, and -what scuffle there had been in this strange place -to overturn that heavy chair, when I heard a -stirring somewhere in the house. It was a curious -shuffling tread, halting and slow. A faint tinkling -sound accompanied it, like nothing in the world -so much as the old glass chandelier in the room -at Nether Neuk, when we danced in the parlour -above.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The sound of that shuffling tread came nearer, -and I grew so terrified, that I think if I had -been sure that the way to the door was clear, -I should have bolted there and then. But just -at that moment I heard the foot trip. There was -a muffled sound as of someone falling forward. -The jingling sound became momentarily louder -than ever, to which succeeded a rasping and a -fumbling. Something or someone had tripped -over my box, and was now examining it in a -blind way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I stood turned to stone, with one hand on -the cold mantelpiece and the other on my heart -to still the painful beating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I heard the shuffling coming nearer -again, and presently the door lurched forward -violently. It did not open as an intelligent being -would have opened a door. The passage was -gloomy without, and at first I saw nothing. But -in a moment, out of the darkness, there emerged -the face and figure of an old woman. She wore -a white cap or 'mutch,' and had a broad and -perfectly dead-white face. Her eyes also were -white—or rather the colour of china ware—as -though she had turned them up in agony and -had never been able to get them back again. -At her waist dangled a bundle of keys; and that -was the reason of the faint musical tinkling I -had heard. She was muttering rapidly to herself -in an undertone as she shuffled forward. She -felt with her hands till she touched the great -oaken table in the centre.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As soon as she had done so, she turned -towards the window, and with a much brisker -step she went towards it. I think she felt the -fresh breeze blow in from the heather. Her -groping hand went through the little hinged -lattice I had opened. She started back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Who has opened the window?' she said. -'Surely he has not been here! Perhaps he has -escaped! Walter—Walter Fergus—come oot!' she -cried. 'Ah, I see you, you are under the table!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And with surprising activity the blind old -woman bent down and scrambled under the table. -She ran hither and thither like a cat after a -mouse, beating the floor with her hands and -colliding with the legs of the table as she did so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Once as she passed she rolled a wall-white -eye up at me. Nance, I declare it was as if -the week-old dead had looked at you!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then she darted back to the door, opened -it, and with her fingers to her mouth, whistled -shrilly. A great surly-looking dog of a brown -colour lumbered in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Here, Lagwine, he's lost. Seek him, Lagwine! -Seek him, Lagwine!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now, indeed, I thought, 'Bess Chrystie, -your last hour is come.' But though the dog -must have scented me—nay, though he passed -me within a foot, his nose down as if on a hot -trail—he never so much as glanced in my -direction, but took round the room over the tumbled -chairs, and with a dreadful bay, ran out at the -door. The old woman followed him, but most -unfortunately (or, as it might be, fortunately) at -that moment my foot slipped from the fender, -and she turned upon me with a sharp cry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Lagwine, Lagwine, he is here! He is here!' -she cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And still on all fours, like a beast, she rushed -across the floor straight at me. She laid her -hand on my shoe, and, as it were, ran up me -like a cat, till her skinny hands fastened -themselves about my throat. Then I gave a great -cry and fainted.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"At least, I must have done so, for when I -came to myself a young man was bending over -me, with a white and anxious face. He had on -velveteen knickerbockers, and a jacket with a -strap round the waist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Where is that dreadful old woman?' I cried, -for I was still in mortal terror."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> should have died," said Nance. And from -the sound of her voice I judged that she had -given up the attempt to continue her seam in -order to listen to the Hempie's tale, which not -the most remarkable exposition of scientific truth -on my part could induce her to do for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'It's all my fault—all my fault for not being -at home to meet the trap,' I heard him murmur, -as I sank vaguely back again into -semi-unconsciousness. When I opened my eyes I found -myself in a pleasant room, with modern furniture -and engravings on the wall of the 'Death of -Nelson' and 'Washington crossing the Delaware.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As soon as I could speak I asked where I -was, and if the horrible old woman with the white -eyes would come back. The young man did -not answer me directly, but called out over his -shoulder, 'Mother, she is coming to.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the next moment a placid, comfortable-looking -lady entered, with the air of one who -has just left the room for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'My poor lassie,' she said, bending over me, -'this is a rough home-coming you have got to -the house of Craignesslin. But when you are -better I will tell you all. You are not fit to -hear it now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I sat up and protested that I was—that -I must hear it all at once, and be done with it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course," cried Nance, "you felt that you -could not stay unless you knew. And I would -not have stopped another minute—not if they -had brought down the Angel Gabriel to explain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not if Alec had been there?" queried the -Hempie, smiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alec!" cried Nance, in great contempt. -"Indeed, if Alec had been in such a place, I -would have made Alec come away inside of three -minutes—yes, and take me with him if he had -to carry me out on his back! Stop there for -Alec's sake? No fear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That is the way my married wife speaks of -me behind my back. But, so far as I can see, -there is no legal remedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go on, Hempie; you are dreadfully slow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So," continued the Hempie, placidly, "the -nice matronly woman bade me lie down on a -sofa, and put lavender-water on my head. She -petted me as if I had been a baby, and I lay there -curiously content—me, Elizabeth Chrystie, that -never before let man or woman lay a hand on -me——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly," said Nance; "was he very nice-looking?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The young man in the velveteen suit, of -course."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know what you mean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean, was he better-looking than Alec?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better-looking than Alec? Why, of course, -Alec isn't a bit——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Hempie!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a pause, and then, to relieve the -strain, the Hempie laughed. "Are you never -going to get over it, Nance?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get on with your story, and be sensible." I -could hear a thread bitten through.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So the lady began to talk to me in a quiet -hushed tone, like a minister beside a sick bed. -She told me how some years ago her poor husband, -Major Fergus, had hart a dreadful accident. He -was not only disfigured, but the shock had affected -his brain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'At first,' she said, 'we thought of sending -him to an asylum, but we could not find one -exactly suited to his case. Besides which, his -old nurse, Betty Hearseman, who had always had -great influence with him, was wild to be allowed -to look after him. She is not quite right in the -head herself, but most faithful and kind. She cried -out night and day that they were abusing him -in the asylum. So at last he was brought here -and placed in the old wing of the house, into -which you penetrated by misadventure to-day.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'But the dog?' I asked; 'do they hunt the -patient with a fierce dog like that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Ah, poor Lagwine,' she sighed, 'he is devoted -to his old master. He would not hurt a hair of -his head or of anybody's head. Only sometimes, -when he finds the door open, my poor Roger will -slip out, and then nobody else can find him on -these weariful hills.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I asked her of the younger children -whom I had been engaged to teach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'They are my grandchildren,' she said; 'you -can hear them upstairs.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And through the clamour of voices, that of -the young man I had seen rang loudest of all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'They are playing with their father?' I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She shook her head. 'They are the children -of my daughter Isobel,' she said. 'She married -Captain Fergus, of the Engineers, her own cousin, -and died on her way out to the West Indies. -So Algernon brought them home, and here they -are settled on us. And what with my husband's -wastefulness before he was laid aside, and the -poor rents of the hill farms nowadays, I know -not what we shall do. Indeed, if it were not for -my dear son Harry we could not live. He takes -care of everything, and is most scrupulous and -saving.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So when she had told me all this, I lay still -and thought. And the lady's hand went slower -and slower across my head till it ceased altogether.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I cannot expect you to remain with us after -this, Miss Chrystie,' she said, 'and yet I know -not what I shall do without you. I think we -should have loved one another.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I told her that I was not going away—that -I was not afraid at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'But, to tell you the truth, my dear,' she said, -'I do not rightly see where your wages are to -come from.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'That does not matter in the least, if I like -the place in other ways,' I said to her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He must be </span><em class="italics">very</em><span> good-looking!" interjected -Nance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I told her I would like to see the children. -She went up to call them, and presently down -they came—a girl of six and a little boy of four. -They had been having a rough-and-tumble, and -their hair was all about their faces. So in a little -we were great friends. They went up to the -nursery with their grandmother, and I was following -more slowly, when all at once, Harry—I mean -the young man—came hurrying in, carrying a tray. -He had an apron tied about him, and the bottom -hem of it was tucked into the string at the waist. -As soon as he saw me he blushed, and nearly -dropped the tray he was carrying. I think he -expected me to laugh, but I did not——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course not," coincided Nance, with decision.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I just opened the top drawer in the sideboard -and took out the cloth and spread it, while he -stood with the tray still in his arms, not knowing, -in his surprise, what to do with it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I thought you had gone upstairs with my -mother,' he said. 'Old John Hearseman is out on -the hill with the lambs, and we have no other -servants except the children's little nurse.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so—and so," said the Hempie, falteringly, -"that is how it began."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could hear a little scuffle—which, being -interpreted, meant that Nance had dropped her -workbasket and sewing on the floor in a heap -and had clasped her sister in her arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Darling, cry all you want to!" My heart -would know that tone through six feet of -kirkyard mould—aye, and leap to answer it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not crying—I don't want to cry." It -was the Hempie's voice, but I had never heard -it sound like that before. Then it took a stronger -tone, with little pauses where the tears were -wiped away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I found out that night from the children -how good he was—how helpful and strong. He -had to be out before break of day on the hills -after the sheep. Often, with a game-bag over -his shoulder, he would bring in all that there was -for next day's dinner. Then when Betsy, the small -maid, was busy with his mother, he would bath -Algie and Madge, and put them to bed. For -Mrs. Fergus, though a kind woman in her way, -had been accustomed all her life to be waited on, -and accepted everything from her son's hands -without so much as 'Thank you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I did not say a word, but got up early -next morning and went downstairs. And what -do you think I found that blessed Harry -doing—</span><em class="italics">blacking my boots</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was again a sound like kissing and -quiet crying, though I cannot for the life of me -tell why there should have been. Perhaps the -women who read this will know. And then the -Hempie's voice began again, striving after its -kind to be master of itself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So, of course, what could I do when his -father died? He and I were with him night -and day. For Betty Hearseman being blind -could not handle him at all, and Harry's mother -was of no use. Indeed, we did not say anything -to alarm her till the very last morning. No, I -cannot tell even you, Nance what it was like. -But we came through it together. That is all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nance had not gone back to her sewing. So I -could not make out what was her next question. -It was spoken too near the Hempie's ear. But -I heard the answer plainly enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A month next Wednesday was what we -thought of. It ought to be soon, for the -children's sake, poor little things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," echoed Nance, meaningly, "for -the children's sake, of course."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Hempie ignored the tone of this remark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Harry is having the house done up. The -old part is to be made into a kitchen. Old John -and Betty Hearseman are to have a cottage down -the glen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you are to be all alone," cried Nance, -clapping her hands, "with only the old lady to -look after. That will be like playing at house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said the Hempie, ironically, "it -would—without the playing. Oh no, I am going to -have a pair of decent moorland lasses to train -to my ways, and Harry will have a first-rate -herd to help him on the hill."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she laughed a little, very low, to herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The best of it is that he still thinks I am -poor," she said. "I have never told him about -mother's money, and I mean to ask father to give -me as much as he gave you and Grace."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course," said Nance, promptly. "I'll come -up and help you to make him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a cheerful prospect in front of -Mr. Peter Chrystie, of Nether Neuk, if he did not -put his hand in his breeches' pocket to some -purpose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will Alec let you come?" queried the Hempie, -doubtfully. "He will miss you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'll tell him it is for the sake of baby's -health," said Nance; "and, besides, husbands are -all the better for being left alone occasionally. -They are so nice when they get you back again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What!" cried the Hempie, "you don't mean -to say that Alec has fits of temper? I never -would have believed it of him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush!" said Nance. There was again that -irritating whispered converse, from which emerged -the Hempie's clear voice:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but my Harry will never be like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait—only wait," said Nance. "Hempie, -they are all alike. And besides, they write you -such nice letters when they are away. I suppose -you get one every day? Yes, of course. What, -he walks six miles over the hill to post it? That -is nice of him. Alec once came all the way -from Edinburgh, and went back the next day, -just because he thought I was cross with him——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but my Harry never, never——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>(Left speaking.)</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="seed-sown-by-the-wayside"><span id="the-little-fair-man"></span><span class="bold large">THE LITTLE FAIR MAN.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">I.—SEED SOWN BY THE WAYSIDE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Notable among my father's papers was one -bundle quite by itself which he had always looked -upon with peculiar veneration. The manuscripts -which composed it were written in crabbed -handwriting on ancient paper, very much creased at -the folds, and bearing the marks of diligent -perusal in days past. My father could not read -these, but had much reverence for them because -of the great names which could be deciphered -here and there, such as "Mr. D. Dickson," -"Mr. G. Gillespie," and in especial "Mr. Samuel -Rutherfurd."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How these came into the possession of my -father's forbears, I have no information. They -were always known in the family as "Peden's -Papers," though so far as I can now make out, -that celebrated Covenanter had nothing to do with -them—or, at least, is never mentioned in them -by name. On the other hand I find from the family -Bible, written as a note over against the entry -of my great-grandmother's death, "Aprile the -seventeene, 1731," the words, "Cozin to Mr. Patrick -Walker, chapman, of Bristo Port, Edinburgh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The letters and narratives are in many hands -and vary considerably in date, some being as -early as the high days of Presbytery, about 1638, -whilst others in a plainer hand have manifestly -been copied or rewritten in the first decade of -last century.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now after I came from college and before my -marriage, I had sometimes long forenights with -little to do. So having got some insight into -ancient handwriting from my friend Mr. James -Robb, of the College of Saint Mary, an expert -in the same—a good golfer also, and a better -fellow—I set me to work to decipher these -manuscripts both for my own satisfaction and -for the further pleasure of reading them to my -father on Saturday nights, when I was in the -habit of driving over to see my mother at -Drumquhat on my way from visiting my patients -in the Glen of Kells.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That which follows is from the first of these -documents which I read to my father. He was -so much taken by it that he begged me to publish -it, as he said, "as a corrective to the sinful -compliances and shameless defections of the -times." And though I am little sanguine of any good -it may do from a high ecclesiastic point of view, -the facts narrated are interesting enough in -themselves. The manuscript is clearly written out in -a tall copy-book of stout bluish paper, without -ruled lines, and is bound in a kind of grey -sheepskin. The name "Harry Wedderburn" is -upon the cover here and there, and within is a -definitive title in floreated capitals, very ornately -inscribed:</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 72%" id="figure-11"> -<span id="inscription"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Inscription" src="images/img-235.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Inscription</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Story of the Turning of me, Harry -Wedderburn, from Darkness to Light, by the means -and instrument of Mr. Samuel Rutherfurd of -Anwoth, Servant of God."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Then the manuscript proceeds:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Lord hath spared me, Harry Wedderburn, -these many years, delaying the setting of my sun -till once more the grass grows green where I saw -the blood lie red, and I wait in patience to lay -my old head beneath the sod of a quiet land.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is my story writ at the instance of good -Mr. Patrick Walker, and to be ready at his next -coming into our parts. The slack between hay -and harvest of the Year of Deliverance, 1689, is -the time of writing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I, Harry Wedderburn, of Black Craig of Dee, -in the country of Galloway, acknowledging the -mercies of God, and repenting of my sins, set -these things down in my own hand of write. -Sorrow and shame are in my heart that my sun -was so high in the heavens before I turned me -from evil to seek after good.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We were a wild and froward set in those days -in the backlands of the Kells. It was not long, -indeed, since the coming of a law stronger than -that of the Strong Hand. Our fathers had driven -the cattle from the English border—yea, even -out of the fat fields of Niddisdale, and over the -flowe of Solway. And if a man were offended -with another, he went his straightest way home -and took gun and whinger to lie in wait for his -enemy. Or he met him foot to foot with -staff on the highway, if he were of ungentle heart -and possessed neither pistol nor musketoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mind well that year 1636, more than fifty -years bygone—I being then in the twenty-second -year of my age, a runagate castaway loon, without -God and without hope in the world. My father -had been in his day a douce sober man, yet he -could do little to restrain myself or my brother -John, who was, they said, 'ten waurs' than I. -For there was a wild set in the Glen of Kells in -those days, Lidderdale of Slogarie and Roaring -Raif Pringle of Kirkchrist being enough to poison -a parish. We four used to forgather to drink -the dark out and the light in, two or three times -in the week at the change house of the Clachan. -Elspeth Vogie keeped it, and no good name it -got among those well-affected to religion—aye, -or Elspeth herself either.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But these are vain thoughts, and I have had -of a long season no pleasure in them. Yet will -I not deny that Elspeth Vogie, though in some -things sore left to herself, was a heartsome quean -and well-favoured of her person.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So at Elspeth's some half-dozen of us were -drinking down the short dark hours of an August -night. It was now the lull between the -hay-winning and the corn-shearing. For hairst was -late that year, and the weather mostly backward -and dour. There had come, however, with the -advent of the new month, a warm drowsy spell -of windless days, the sun shining from morn to -even through a kind of unwholesome mist, and -the corn standing on the knowes with as little -motion as the grey whinstane tourocks and granite -cairns on the hilltaps. The farmers and cottiers -looked at their scanty roods of ploughland, and -prayed for a rousing wind from the Lord to -winnow away the still dead easterly mist, and gar -the corn reestle ear against ear so that it might -fill and ripen for the ingathering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But we that were hand-fasted to sin and bonded -to iniquity, young plants of wrath, ill-doers and -forlorn of grace, cared as little for the backward -year as we did for the sad state of Scotland and -the strifes that were quickly coming upon that -land. So long as our pint-stoup was filled, and -plack rattled on plack in the pouch, sorrow the -crack of the thumb we cared for harvest or -sheep-shearing, king or bishop, Bible or incense-pot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To us sitting thus on the Sabbath morning -(when it had better set us to have been sleeping -in our naked beds) there came in one Rab Aitkin -of Auchengask, likeminded with us. Rab was -seeking his 'morning' or eye-opening draught of -French brandy, and to us bleared and leaden-eyed -roisterers, he seemed to come fresh as the dew on -the white thorn in the front of May. For he had -a clean sark upon him, a lace ruffle about his neck, -and his hair was still wet with the good well water -in which he had lately washen himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Whither away, Rab?' we cried; 'is it to visit -fair Meg o' the Glen so early i' the mornin'?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'He is on his way to holy kirk!' cried another, -daffingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'If so—'tis to stand all day on the stool of -repentance!' declared another. Then in the -precentors whining voice he added: 'Robert -Aitkin, deleted and discerned to compear at both -diets of worship for the heinous crime of—and so -forth!' This was an excellent imitation of the -official method of summoning a culprit to stand -his rebuke. It was Patie Robb of Ironmannoch -who said this. And this same Patie had had the -best opportunities for perfecting himself in the -exercise, having stood the session and received the -open rebuke on three several occasions—two of -them in one twelve-month, which is counted a -shame even among shameless men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'No, Patie,' said Rab in answer, 'I am indeed -heading for the kirk, but on no siccan gowk's errand -as takes you there twice in the year, my man. I -go to hear the Gospel preached. For there is to be -a stranger frae the south shore at the Kirk of Kells -this day, and they say he has a mighty power of -words; and though ye scoff and make light o' -me, I care not. I am neither kirk-goer nor -kirk-lover, ye say. True, but there is a whisper in my -heart that sends me there this day. I thank ye, -bonny mistress!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He took the pint-stoup, and with a bow of his -head and an inclination of his body, he did -his service to Mistress Elspeth. For that lady, -looking fresh as himself, had just come forth from -her chamber to relieve Jean McCalmont, who, poor -thing, had been going to sleep on her feet for -many weary hours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then Roaring Raif Pringle cried out, 'Lads, -we will a' gang. I had news yestreen of this -ploy. The new Bishop, good luck to him, has -outed another of the high-flying prating -cushion-threshers. This man goes to Edinburgh to be -tried before his betters. He is to preach in Kells -this very morn on the bygoing, for the minister -thereof is likeminded with himself. We will -all gang, and if he gets a hearin' for his rebel's -cant—why, lads, you are not the men I tak -you for!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So they cried out, 'Weel said, Roaring Raif!' -and got them ready to go as best they could. -For some were red of face and some were ringed -of eye, and all were touched with a kind of -disgust for the roysterous spirit of the night. But -a dabble in the chill water of the spring and a -rub of the rough-spun towel brought us mostly -to some decent presentableness. For youth easily -recovers itself while it lasts, though in the latter -end it pays for such things twice over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We partook of as mickle breakfast as we -could manage, and that was no great thing after -such a night. But we each drank down a -stirrup-cup and with various good-speeds to Elspeth -Vogie and Jean her maid, we wan to horseback -and so down the strath to the Kirk of Kells. -It sits on the summit of a little knowe with the -whin golden about it at all times of the year, -and the loch like a painted sheet spread below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We could see the folk come flocking from far -and near, from their mailings and forty-shilling -lands, their farm-towns and cot-houses in -half-a-dozen parishes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'We are in luck's way, lads,' cried Lidderdale, -called Ten-tass Lidderdale because he could -drink that number of stoups of brandy neat; 'it -is a great gathering of the godly. Lads, the -shutting of this man's mouth will make such a -din as will be heard of through all Galloway!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so to our shame and my sorrow we made -it up. We were to go the rounds of the meeting, -and gather together all the likely lads who -would stand with us. There were sure to be -plenty such who had no goodwill to preachings. -And with these in one place we could easily -shut the mouth of this fanatic railer against law -and order. For so in our ignorance and folly -we called him. Because all this sort (such as -I myself was then) hated the very name of religion, -and hoped to find things easier and better for -them when the king should have his way, and -when the bishops would present none to parishes -but what we called 'good fellows'—by which -we meant men as careless of principle as -ourselves—loose-livers and oath-swearers, such as in truth -they mostly were themselves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But when we arrived that August morning at -the Kirk of Kells, lo! there before us was -outspread such a sight as my eyes never beheld. -The Kirk Knowe was fairly black with folk. -A little way off you could see them pouring -inward in bands like the spokes of a wheel. -Further off yet, black dots straggled down hill -sides, or up through glens, disentangling -themselves from clumps of birches and scurry thorns -for all the world like the ants of the wise king -gathering home from their travels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then we were very well content and made it our -business to go among the gay young blades who -had come for the excitement, or, as it might be, -because all the pretty lasses of the countryside -were sure to be there in their best. And with -them we arranged that we should keep silence -till the fanatic minister was well under way -with his treasonable paries. Then we would rush -in with our swords drawn, carry him off down the -steep and duck him for a traitorous loon in the -loch beneath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To this we all assented and shook hands upon -the pact. For we knew right sickerly what would -be our fate, if in the battle which was coming on -the land, the Covenant men won the day. -Perforce we must subscribe to deeds and religious -engagements, attend kirks twice a day, lay aside -gay colours, forswear all pleasant daffing with such -as Elspeth Vogie and Jean her maid (not that -there was anything wrong in my own practice -with such—I speak only of others). The merry -clatter of dice would be heard no more. The -cartes themselves, the knowledge of which then -made the gentleman, would be looked upon as the -'deil's picture-books.' A good broad oath would -mean a fine as broad. Instead of chanting loose -catches we should have to listen to sermons five -hours long, and be whipt for all the little pleasing -transgressions that made life worth living.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So 'Hush,' we said—'we will salt this preacher's -kail for him. We will drill him, wand-hand and -working-hand, so that he cannot stir. We will -make him drink his fill of Kells Loch this day!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All this while we knew not so much as the name -of the preacher—nor, indeed, cared. He came -from the south, so much we knew, and he had a -great repute for godliness and what the broad-bonnets -called 'faithfulness,' which, being interpreted, -signified that he condemned the king and -the bishops, and held to the old dull figments about -doctrine, free grace, and the authority of Holy Kirk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The man had not arrived when we reached -the Kirk of Kells. Indeed, it was not long before -the hour of service when up the lochside we saw -a cavalcade approach. Then we were angry. For, -as we said, 'This spoils our sport. These are -doubtless soldiers of the king who have been sent -to put a stop to the meeting. We shall have no -chance this day. Our coin is spun and fallen -edgewise between the stones. Let us go home!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I said: 'There may be some spirity work -for all that, lads. Better bide and see!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So they abode according to my word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But when they came near we could see that -these were no soldiers of the king, nor, indeed, any -soldiers at all, though the men were armed with -whingers and pistolets, and rode upon strong -slow-footed horses like farmers going to market. There -was a gentleman at the head of them, very tall -and stout, whom Roaring Raif, in an undertone, -pointed out as Gordon of Earlstoun, and in the -midst, the centre of the company, rode a little -fair man, shilpit and delicate, whom all deferred -to, clad in black like a minister. He rode a -long-tailed sheltie like one well accustomed to the -exercise and bore about with him the die-stamp -of a gentleman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This was the preacher, and these other riders -were mostly his parishioners, come to convoy him -through the dangerous and ill-affected districts -to the great Popish and Prelatic city of Aberdeen, -where for the time being he was to be interned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then Roaring Raif whispered amongst us that -we had better have our swords easy in the sheath -and our pistols primed, for that these men in the -hodden grey would certainly fight briskly for their -minister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Gordon of Cardoness is there also,' he said, 'a -stout angry carle. Him in the drab is Muckle -Ninian Mure of Cassencarry. Beyond is Ugly -Peter of Rusco, and that's Bailie Fullerton o' -Kirkcudbright, the man wi' the wame swaggin' and -the bell-mouthed musket across his saddle-bow. -There will be a rare tulzie, lads. This is indeed -worth leavin' Elspeth's fireside for. We will let -oot some true blue Covenant bluid this holy day!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And when the Little Fair Man dismounted there -was a rush of the folk and some deray. But we -of the other faction kept in the back part and -bided our time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then the Little Fair Man went up into the -pulpit, which was a box on great broad, creaking, -ungreased wheels, which they had brought out -from the burial tool-house as soon as they saw -that the mighty concourse could in no wise be -contained in the kirk—no, not so much as a tenth -part of them!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After that there was a great hush which lasted -at least a minute as the minister kneeled down -with his head in his hands. Then at last he rose -up and gave out the psalm to be sung. It was the -one about the Israelites hanging their harps on the -trees of Babylon. And I mind that he prefaced -it with several pithy sayings which I remembered -long afterwards, though I paid little heed to them -at the time. 'This tree of Babylon is a strange -plant,' he said; 'it grows only in those backsides -of deserts where Moses found it, or by Babel -streams where men walk in sorrow and exile. It -is an ever-burning bush, yet no man hath seen -the ashes of it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then the people sang with a great voice, -far-swelling, triumphant, and the Little Fair Man led -them in a kind of ecstasy. I do not mind much -about his prayer. I was no judge of prayers in -those days. All I cared about them was that they -should not be too long and so keep me standing -in one position. But I can recall of him that -he inclined his face all the time he was speaking -towards the sky, as if Someone Up There had been -looking down upon him. At that I looked also, -following the direction of his eyes. And so did -several others, but could see nothing. But I think -it was not so with the Little Fair Man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now it was not till the sermon was well begun -that we were to break in and 'skail' the -conventicle with our swords in our hands. I could -hear Lidderdale behind me murmuring, 'How -much longer are we to listen to this treason-monger?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Let us give him five minutes by the watch -lads!' I said, 'the same as a man that is to be -hanged hath before the topsman turns him off. -And after that I am with you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then Roaring Raif said in my ear, 'We have -them in the hollow of our hand. This will be a -great day in the Kells. We will put the broad -bonnets to rout, so that no one of them after this -shall be able to show face upon the causeway of -Dumfries. There are at least fifty staunch lads, -good honest swearing blades, in and about the -kirkyard of Kells this day!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For even so we delighted to call ourselves in -our ignorance and headstrong folly—as the Buik -sayeth, glorying in our shame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And according to my word we waited five -minutes on the minister. He had that day a -text that I will always mind, 'God is our refuge -and our strength,' from the 46th Psalm—one that -was ever afterwards a great favourite with me. -And when at first he began, I thought not muckle -about what he said, but only of the great ploy and -bloody fray that was before me. For we rejoiced -in suchlike, and called it among ourselves a -'bloodletting of the whey-faced knaves!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then the Little Fair Man began to warm to -his work, and just when the five minutes drew on -to their end, he was telling of a certain Friend -that he had, One that loved him, and had been -constantly with him for years—so that his married -wife was not so near and dear. This Friend had -delivered him, he said, from perils of great waters, -and from the edge of the sword. He had also -put up with all the evil things he had done to -Him. Ofttimes he had cast this Friend off and -buffeted Him, but even then He would not go -away from him or leave him desolate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So, as I had never heard of such strange friendship, -I was in a great sweat to find out who this -Friend might be, so different from the comrades I -knew, who drew their swords at a word and gave -buffet for buffet as quick as drawing a breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I whispered again, 'Give him another five -minutes!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I could hear them growl behind me, Tam -Morra of the Shields, called Partan-face Tam, -Glaikit Gib Morrison, and the others—'What for -are ye waitin'? Let the grey-breeks hae it noo!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But since I was by much the strongest there, -and in a manner the leader, they did not dare -to counter me, fearing that I might give them -'strength-o'-airm' as I did once in the vennel -of Dumfries to Mathew Aird when he withstood -me in the matter of Bonny Betty Coupland—a -rencontre which was little to my credit from any -point of view.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then the Little Fair Man threw himself -into a rapture like a man going out of the body, -and his voice sounded somehow uncanny and -of the other world. For there was a 'scraich' -in it like the snow-wind among the naked trees -of the wood at midnight. Yet for all it was not -unpleasant, but only eery and very affecting to -the heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He told us how that he had shamed and grieved -his Friend, how he had oftentimes wounded Him -sore, and once even crucified Him——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then when he said that I knew what the man -was driving at, and if I had been left to myself -I would have fallen away and thought no more -of the matter. But at that moment, with a sudden -calm, there fell a hush over the people. They -seemed to be waiting for something. Then the -Little Fair Man leaned out of the pulpit and -stretched his arm toward me, where I stood like -Saul, taller by a head than any about me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'There is a great strong young man there,' he -said, 'standing by the pillar, that hitherto has used -his strength for the service of the devil, but from -this forward he shall use it for the Lord. Even -now he is plotting mischief. He, too, hath wounded -my Friend, even Jesus Christ, and smitten Him -on the cheekbone. But to-day he shall stand -in the breach and fight for Him. Young man, I -bid you come forward!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And with that he continued, pointing at me -with his finger a little crooked. At first I was -angry, and could have made his chafts ring with -my neive had I been near enough. But presently -something uprose in my heart—great, and terrible, -and melting all at once. I took a step forward. -But my companions held me back. I could feel -Lidderdale and Roaring Raif with each a hand -on a coat tail.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Harry,' they said, 'do not mind him—cry -the word and we will fall on and pull the wizard -down by the heels!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Come hither!' said the Little Fair Man again, -in a stronger voice of command. 'Come up hither, -friend. Thou didst come to this place to do evil; -but the Spirit hath thee now by the head, though -well do I see that a pair of black deils have thee -yet by the tail. Come hither, friend, resist not -the Spirit!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then there arose a mighty flame in my heart, -the like of which I never felt before. It was a -very gale of the Spirit—a breaking down of dams -that imprisoned waters might flow free. And -before I knew what I did I took my hand and -dealt a buffet right and left, so that Roaring Raif -roared amain. And as for Jock Lidderdale, I -know not what became of him, for they carried -him over the heads of the crowd and laid him -under a tree to come to himself again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Thou shalt know a Friend to-day, young -man,' the minister said, when, being thus enlarged, -I came near. 'Thou shall be the firstfruits to -the Lord in the Kells this day. There is to be -a great ingathering of sheaves here, though some -of them shall yet have bloody shocks. But thou, -young sir, shalt be the first of all and shalt stand -the longest!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then on the outskirts of the crowd there arose -a mighty turmoil. For all those that had been -of my party made a rush forward, that they might -rescue me from what they thought was rank -witchcraft.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Overturn! Overturn!' they cried, 'ding -doon the wizard! He hath bewitched "Harry -Strength-o'-Airm"! Fight, Harry—for thine own -hand, and we will rescue thee!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so ardent was their onset that they had -well-nigh opened a way to where the Little Fair -Man stood, as unmoved and smiling as if he had -been sitting in his own manse. So great became -the crowd that the very preaching-box rocked. -The men of the cavalcade drew their swords -and met the assailants hand to hand. In another -minute there had been bloodshed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But by some strange providence there came -into my hand the pole of a burying bier, whereon -men bear coffins to the kirkyard. I know not -how it came there, unless, peradventure, they had -used it to roll out the preaching-box. But, in any -case, it made a goodly and a gruesome weapon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then the Spirit of the Lord came upon me, -and I shouted aloud: 'I am on the Little Fair -Man's side—and on the side of his Friend! Peace! -Peace!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And with that I laid about me as the Lord -gave me strength, and I heard more than one -sword snap, and more than one head crack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, again, I cried louder than before: 'Let -there be peace—and God help ye if ye come in -Harry Wedderburn's road this day—all ye that -are set on mischief!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And lo! by means of the bier-pole, a way -was opened, a large and an effectual, before me; -and, like Samson, I smote and smote, and stayed -not, till I was weary. For none could stand -against me, and such as could, ran out to their -horses. But the most part of them, I, with my -grave-pole, caused to remain—that they, too, -might be turned to the Lord by the Word of -the preacher.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So they came back, and I bade the Little Fair -Man preach to them, while I kept guard. And -at that he smiled and said: 'Did I not say that -thou also shouldst be a soldier of God? Thine arm -this day hath been indeed an arm of flesh. But thou -shalt yet wield in thy time the sword of the Spirit, -which is the word of God!' And of a truth, -there was a great work and an effectual that day -in the Kells. For they say that more than four -score turned them from their evil way, and many -of these blessed me thereafter for the breaking -of their heads—yes, even upon their dying beds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I have myself backslidden since that, -but have not altogether fallen away or shamed my -first love. And when the cavalcade rode away up -the muir road, I heard them tell that the Little -Fair Man, who had called me out of my heady -folly, was no other than the famous Mr. Samuel -Rutherfurd, minister of Anwoth, on his way to -his place of exile in Aberdeen, for conscience sake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That these things are verity I vouch for with -my soul. The truth is thus, neither less nor more. -Which is the testimony of me, Harry Wedderburn, -written in this year of Grace and a freed -Israel, 1689."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-humbling-of-strength-o-airm"><span class="bold large">THE LITTLE FAIR MAN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">II.—THE HUMBLING OF STRENGTH-O'-AIRM</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">The continuation of the Adventure of Mr. Harry Wedderburn, -called "Strength-o'-Airm" written by himself, and -transcribed by Alexander McQuhirr, M.D.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"All this fell out exceeding well, and the fact was -much bruited abroad throughout all the -southland of Galloway, how that with the tram of a -bier I convertit thirty-three men, in and about -the kirkyaird of Kells, in one day. But (what -was not so good) the first man that I brak the -head of was Roaring Raif Pringle of Kirkchrist—and, -I was engaged in the bands of affection with -his sister Rachel, expecting indeed to wed her -with the first falling of the leaf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now Roaring Raif was so worshipfully smitten -on the pate, that before he could sit up to hearken -to the voice of the Little Fair Man, -Mr. Rutherfurd had ridden northwards on his way -and all his folk with him. Now when at last -Raif sat up and drew his hand across his brow -he asked who had done this, and when they told -him that it was his friend Harry Wedderburn of -the Black Craig who had broke his own familiar -head with the tram of the dead bier, who but -Raif Pringle was a wild man, and swore in his -unhallowed wrath to shoot me if ever I came -anigh the house of Kirkchrist, either to see his -sister or for any other purpose!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I was not anxious about Rachel herself. -I knew that when it came to the point, she cared -not a doit either for Roaring Raif or for Slee -Todd Pringle, her cunning father. She was a -fell clever lass, and had always been a great -toast among us—though continually urging me -to forswear sitting drinking at the wine with wild -runagates in public places and change houses, if -I hoped to stand well in her favour. But once, -having been with her and Roaring Raif at -Dumfries, it was my good fortune to carry her -across the ford at Holywood when Nith Water -was rising fast, and since that day somehow she -had always thought better than well of me. For -we left the Roaring One on the Dumfries shore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I will go over and bring him hither on my -back,' said I. And would have plunged in again -to do it. For I thought nothing of perils of -waters, being tall and a good swimmer to boot. -But this Rachel would in no wise permit. She -caught me by the arm and would not let me -go back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"''Deed will you do somewhat less, Harry -Wedderburn; if Raif thinks so little of his sister -as to convoy her home disguised in liquor, e'en -let him stand there on the shore, or else take his -way home by the Brig of Dumfries!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And this I was very content to do, delivering -Rachel into the hands of her uncle, Lancelot -Pringle of Quarrelwood, in due time—but a longer -time mayhap than in ordinary circumstances it -takes to traverse the distance between the fords -of Holywood over against Netherholm and the -mansion house of Quarrelwood. For the pleasure -that I had in carrying of Rachel Pringle through -the water had gone to my head some little, and -I was perhaps not so clear about my way as I -might have been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So, minding me on that heartsome and memorable -night, together with other things more recent, -I was not perhaps very anxious about the -affection of Rachel Pringle. For I thought that it -would take more than the word of Roaring Raif -to change the heart of that little Rachel whom -I had carried in my arms over the swellings of -Nith Water. I minded me how tight she had -held to me, and how, when we got over, she -whispered in my ear, before I set her down, -'Harry, I like strong men!' Which saying -somewhat delayed my putting of her down, for -the ground grew exceedingly boggy and unstable -just at that spot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So, on the evening of the day after I had -forsaken my ill courses at the bidding of the -Little Fair Man, I set out from the onsteading -of Black Craig of Dee, leaving all there in the -keeping of my brother John, a stark upstanding -lad, and in those of Gilbert Grier, my chief hired -herd. I told them not where I was going, but I -think they knew well enough. For John brought -me my father's broadsword, which he had sharpened -instead of my own smaller whinger, and Gib the -herd took the pistols out of my belt and saw -to their priming anew. They were always very -loyal and sib to my heart, these two, and sped -me on my love adventures without a word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now the turn or twist that I gat at the outdoor -service before the Kirk of Kells was strange -enough. It may seem that the conduct of a man -can only be turned by the application of reason -or argument. But it was not so with me. The -Little Fair Man crooked his finger and said: -'Come!' and I came. So also was it with the -others who were convertit that day, aided maybe -somewhat by my black quarter-staff. But I -have since read in the Book that even so did -Mr. Rutherfurd's Friend, when on the shores of -the sea He called to Him his disciples. 'Come!' -He said to the fishermen, and forthwith they -left all and followed Him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now my call did not cause me to follow the -Little Fair Man. It was not of such a sort. He did -not bid me to that of it. But those who have been -my neighbours will bear me witness that I never -was the same man again, but through many shortcomings -and much warring of the flesh against the -spirit, have ever sought after better things, during -all the fifty-and-one years since that day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So out I set on my road to Kirkchrist with -a rose in my coat, the covenanted work of -reformation in my heart—and my pistols primed. -I knew it would need all three to win bonny -Rachel Pringle out of the hand of the Slee Tod -and his son Raif, the Roaring One.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now Kirkchrist is one of the farm-towns of -Galloway, many of which in the old days have -been set like fortilices high on every defenced hill. -Indeed, the ancient tower still stands at one angle -of the square of houses, where it is used for a -peat-shed. But by an outside stair it is possible -to get on the roof and view the country for miles -round. On one side the Cooran burn runs down -a deep ravine full of hazel copses feathering to -the meadow-edges, where big bumble bees have -their bykes, and where I first courted Rachel, -sitting behind a cole of hay on the great day of -the meadow ingathering. On the other three sides -the approach to Kirkchrist is as bare as the palm -of my hand, all short springy turf, with not so -much as a daisy on it, grazed over by Slee Tod's -sheep, and cast up in places by conies, whose white -tails are for ever to be seen bunting about here -and there among the warreny braes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now somehow it never struck me that Roaring -Raif would bear malice. What mattered a broken -head that he should take offence at his ancient -friend? Had I not had my own sconce broke a -score of times, and ever loved the breaker better, -practising away with John and Gib till I could -break his for him in return? Why not thus Raif -Pringle? It was true that he had gotten an -uncouth clour from the bier-tram of Kells, but I -was willing to give him his revenge any day in -the week—and, for my part, bore no malice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So in this frame of mind I strolled up towards -Kirkchrist, when the reek of the peat fires was -just beginning to go up into a still heaven from -the cot-house in the dell, and the good cottier -wives were putting on their pots to make their -Four-Hours. I was at peace with all the world, -for since the Kirk of Kells there had been a -marvellous lightening of my spirit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rachel is yonder, I thought within me, as I -went up the hillside towards the low four-square -homestead of Kirkchrist. Her hand will be laying -the peat and blowing up the kindling. She will -be looking out for me somewhere, most likely at -yonder window in the gable end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, so she was. For as I came in view of the -yard gate I saw a white thing waved vehemently, -and then suddenly withdrawn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Dear lass,' I thought, 'she is watching; and -thinks thus to bid me welcome. She has -doubtless made my peace with the Roaring One.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I smiled within myself, like a vain fool, -well-content and secure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Also I quickened my steps a little, so that I -might arrive in time for the meal, being -hunger-sharpened with my travel, and having out of -expectance and forgetfulness taken but little nooning -provender with me from the Black Craig of Dee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I watched the window eagerly, as I came nearer, -for another glint of the kerchief. But not the beck -of a head or the flutter of a little hand intimated -that one of the bonniest lasses in Galloway was -waiting within. Yet it struck me as strange that -there were no clamorous dogs about, or indeed -any sound of life whatever. And ever and anon -I seemed to hear my name called, but yet, when -I stopped and listened, all was still again on the -moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now the entrance into the courtyard or inner -square of Kirkchrist was by a 'yett' or strong -gate, closed when any raiders or doubtful characters -were in the neighbourhood, as well as in the night -season. But now this 'yett' stood wide open, and -I could see the yellow straw in the yard all freshly -spread, the stray ears yet upon it—which last, -together with the empty look of the crofts, told -me that the oats had been gathered in that day. -Where, then, were the men who had done the -work? It was a thing unheard of that they -should depart without making merry in the house-place, -and drinking of the home-brewed ale, laced -with a tass of brandy to each tankard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The sun was low behind my back, and I was -looking towards the onstead of Kirkchrist, when -suddenly I saw something glisten in one of the -little three-cornered wicket-windows of the barn. -It was bright, and shone like polished metal—a -steel pistol stock belike. But, nevertheless, I went -on in the same dead, uncanny silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suddenly '</span><em class="italics">Blaff! Blaff! Blaff!</em><span>' Three or -four shots went off in front of me and to the -right. I heard the smooth hissing sound of lead -bullets and the whistle of slugs. Something -struck me on the muscle of the forearm, stunning -me like a blow, then I felt a kind of ragged tear or -searing of the flesh as with a hot iron. I cannot -describe it better—not very painful at first, but -rather angering, and inclining me, but for my recent -conversion, to stamp and swear like a king's -trooper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This, however, I had small time to do, even -if I had wished it; for, after one glance at the -barn, through the three-cornered wicks of which, -as through the portholes of a ship in action, white -wreaths of the smoke of gunpowder were curling, -my right arm fell to my side, and I turned to -run. Even as I did so, a little cloud of -men—perhaps half-a-dozen—came rushing out of the -mickle 'yett' with a loud shout, and made for -me across the level sward. Foremost of them -was Roaring Raif. Then I was advertised indeed -that he had not forgiven the clour on the head he -had gotten. I knew him by his height and by the -white clout that was bound like a mutch about -his brows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Harry,' said I to myself, when I saw them -thus take after me, 'the Black Craig will never -see you more. Ye are as a dead man. You -cannot run far with that arm draining the life -from you, and there is no shelter within miles.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I heard the brainge of breaking glass -behind me, and a voice: 'The linn—the linn, -Harry Wedderburn; flee to the linn! It is your -only chance. They are mad to kill you, Harry!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And even then I was glad to hear the voice -of my lass, for to know that her heart and her -prayers were with me. So I turned at the word, -and ran redwud for the Linn of Kirkchrist—a -wild steep place, all cliffs and screes and slithery -spouts of broken slate. I felt my strength fast -leaving me as I ran, and ever the enemy shouted -nearer to my back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Kill him! Shoot him! Put a bullet into him!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wondrous stimulating I found such remarks as -these, made a hundred or two yards to leeward, -with an occasional pistol bullet whistling by to -mark the sense, as in a printed book. This made -me run as I think I never ran before. For, though -I was a changed man, I did not want to die and -go straight to that Abraham's bosom, of which -the Little Fair Man had spoken as one that had -lain there of a long season. I did not surmise -that the accommodation would suit me so well. -No, not yet awhile, with Rachel Pringle praying -for my life half-a-mile behind. So I ran and better -ran, till the sweat of my brow ran into my eyes -and well nigh blinded me. Now in those days I -was very young and limber. And I am none so -stiff yet for my age.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At all events, when I came to the taking off -of the linn I saw that there was nothing for it -but my callant's monkey trick of letting myself -down like a wheel. I had often practised it on -the heathery slopes of the Black Craig of Dee, -so I caught myself behind the knees, and, with -my head bent like a hoop, flung myself over the -edge. Presently I felt myself tearing through the -copses and plunging into little darksome dells. -I rebounded from tree trunks and bruised myself -against rocks. Stones I had started span whizzing -about my ears, and I heard the risp and rattle -of shot fired after me from the margin of the -linn. My wounded arm seemed as if drawn from -its socket. Then I felt the cool plash of water, -and I knew no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I might very well have been drowned in -Kirkchrist Linn that day, but it had not been to -be. For it so chanced that I fell into the deepest -pool for miles, and was carried downwards by the -strongest current into the place that is now called -the 'Harry's Jaws.' This is a darksome spot, -half-cavern, half-bridge, under the gloomy arch -of which the brown peat-water foams white as -fresh-poured ale, and the noise of its thundering -deafens the ear. When I came to myself I was -lying half out of the water and half in, on the -verge of a great fall where the burn takes a leap -thirty or forty feet into a black pool. I looked -over, and there beneath me, with one of my own -pistols in his hand, was Roaring Raif, a terrifying -sight, with his bloody clout all awry about his -head. He was looking at the pistol, dripping wet -as it had gone over the fall when I came down like -a runaway cart wheel into the Linn of Kirkchrist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'He's farther doon the water, boys,' I heard -him cry, and the sound was sweet to my ear. -'Here's the pistol he has left behint him! Scatter, -boys, and a braw sheltie to the man that first -puts an ounce o' lead into him!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pleasant forgiving nature had this same -Roaring One. And I resolved that, though a -converted man, I would deal with him accordingly -when I gat him into my clutches.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The place where I found me was not -uncommodious. To make the most of it I crawled -backwards till I came to the end of the rocks. -Here was a little strip of sand, and over that a -dry recess almost large enough for a cave. Some -light filtered in from unseen crevices above, so -that I think it was not roofed with solid rock -overhead. Rather it was some falling in of the -sides of the linn which had made the hiding-place. -Here I was safe enough so long as the burn did not -rise suddenly, for I knew well from the 'glet' on -the stones and the bits of stick and dried rushes -that the waters of the linn filled all the interior in -time of flood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I made what shift I could to bind up -my arm. I was already faint from loss of blood, -but I bound a band tight about my upper arm, -twisting it with a stick till I almost cried out -with the greatness of the pain. Then I tied a -rag, torn from my shirt, about the wound itself, -which turned out to be in the fleshy part, very -red and angry. However, it had bled freely, -which, though it made me faint at the time, -together with the washing in the water of the -linn, was probably the saving of me. There was -a soft fanning air as the night drew on, and, in -my wet clothes, I shivered, now hot, now cold. -My head was throbbing and over-full; and I began -to see strange lights about me as the cave -alternately grew wide and high as the firmament, -and anon contracted to the size of a hazel-nut. -That was the little touch of fever which always -comes after a gunshot wound.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So after a while fell the darkness, or, rather, -if there had not been a full moon, the darkness -would have fallen. But, being thirsty with my -wound, I crawled down to the water's edge and -bent my head to drink, with the drumming of the -fall loud in my ears. And, lo! in the pool I saw -the round of the moon reflected. I was at the -mouth of the little cave, and there, to the north, -the Plough hung as from a nail in the August -sky, while a little higher I saw one prong of -silvery Cassiopeia's broken-legged 'W.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The stars looked so remote and lonesome, so -safe and careless up there. They minded so -little that I was wounded and helpless, that if I -had not been a changed man, I declare I could -have cursed them in my heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But suddenly from above came a sound that -made all my heart beat and quiver. It was a -woman's cry. All you who have never heard -how soft a woman can make her speech when she -fears for her true man's life, take this word. -There is no sound so sweet, so low, so -far-searching in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Harry! Harry Wedderburn!' it said. And -I knew that in the midnight Rachel Pringle -was searching and calling for me. Though there -might be danger, I could not bear that she -should pass away from me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I am here,' I answered as softly as I could. -But the noise of the waterfall drowned my voice, -though my ears, grown accustomed to the roar, -had caught hers easily enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So, steadying me on the crutch of a tree that -grew perilously over the fall, I went out and -stood in the full light of the moon, taking my -life in my hand if it had so chanced that any of -my enemies were in ambush round about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rachel saw me instantly, and I could see her -clasp her hands over her heart as she stood on -the margin of the cleuch, black against the indigo -sky of night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Harry—Harry Wedderburn!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Here—dear love—here! By the waterfall.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In an instant she was flying down the slope, -having lifted her skirt, and, as we say, 'kilted' -it, so that she might go the lighter. She wore a -white gown, and I could see her flit like a moth -through the covert of birk and hazel to the -water-edge. In another moment, without stopping either -for direction or to draw breath, she was coming -towards me, her face to the precipice, swiftly, -fearlessly, clinging to the little ragged rock-rifts, -from which scarce a wind-wafted seed would grow -or a tuft of gilly-flower protrude about which to -clasp her fingers. But Rachel Pringle came as -lightly and easily as if she had been ascending -the steps of her father's ha'.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Go back,' she whispered, 'go back, dear -love! They may see you. I am coming—I know -the way!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And with that I stepped back out of the -moonlight, obedient to her word. Yet I stood near -enough to the wall of the cliff to reach my arm -over for her to take, so that she might have -something to hold by during the last and most difficult -steps of the goats' path, the roaring linn being -above, the pool deep and black below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, either by chance or because it was the -one which could reach farthest, I tendered Rachel -my wounded arm, and as soon as she clasped my -hand so rude a stound ran up my wrist that it -seemed as though I had been pierced through and -through with a hot iron. So when at last Rachel -leaped lightly upon the wet rock, I was ready to -droop like a blown windlestrae in a December gale -into her arms—yes, I, that was the strong man, -called Strength-o'-Airm, laid my head on her -shoulder, and she drew me within the shelter of -the cave's mouth, crooning over me as wood doves -do to their mates, and whispering soft words to -me as a mother doth to a bairn that hath fallen -down and hurt itself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But in a little the stound of pain passed away, -what with the happiness of her coming, the plash -of the nearer waters, and the coolness of the night -winds which blew to and fro in our refuge place -as through a tunnel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then Rachel told me that she had run from -the house while they were all searching for me -everywhere. Roaring Raif and his brother Peter, -together with Gib Maxwell of Slagnaw, Paul -Riddick of the Glen, and Black-Browed Macclellane -of Gregorie, Will of Overlaw, and Lancelot -Lindesay, the tutor of Rascarrel—as bloodthirsty -a crew as ever raked the brimstony by-roads -of hell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well I knew that if they lighted on us -together there was no hope for me. But Rachel -allayed my fear a little by telling me that she -did not believe that any in the house knew of -the cave beneath the tumble of rocks save only -herself. It had long been her custom to seek it -for quiet, when the Roaring One brought his crew -about the house of Kirkchrist, and none had ever -tracked her thither.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So she examined my wound in the light of the -moon, which shone in at one end as we sat on the -inmost crutch of the tree. Now Rachel had much -skill in wounds, for, indeed, her house was never -free of them, her brothers, Peter and the Roaring -One, never both being skin-whole at the same time. -And so, with a handsbreadth torn from her white -underskirt, she bathed and bandaged the wound, -telling me for my comfort that the shot appeared -to have gone through the fleshy part without -lodging, so that most likely the wound would come -together sweetly and heal by the first intention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, after this was done, we arrived at our -first difference. For Rachel vowed that she would -in no wise go back to the onstead of Kirkchrist, -but would stop and nurse me here in the linn; -which thing, indeed, would have been mightily -pleasant to the natural man. But, being mindful -of that which the Little Fair Man had said, and -also of the censorious clatter of the countryside, -I judged this to be impossible, and told Rachel -so; who, in her turn, received it by no means -with meekness, but rose and stamped her little -foot, and said that she would go and never -return—that she was sorry to her heart she had ever -come where she was so little thought of, with -many other speeches of that kind, such as spirity -maids use when they are affronted and in danger -of not getting their own sweet way with the -men of their hearts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now it went sore against the grain thus to deal -with Rachel. And yet I could think of no way -of appeasing her, but to feign a dwalm of faintness -and pain from my wound. So when I staggered -and appeared to hold myself up by the rock -with difficulty, she stayed in the full flood of her -reproaches, and faltered, 'What is the matter, -Harry?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, because I made no answer, she kneeled -down beside me, and, taking my head in both of -her hands, she kissed my brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I did not mean it—indeed, I did not, Harry,' -she said, with that delicious contrition which at -all times sat so well on her—even after we were -married, which is a strange thing and very uncommon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I touched her cheek with my fingers and -forgave her, as a man who has been in the wrong -forgives a loving woman who has not. (There is -ever a touch of superiority in a man's forgiving—in -a woman's there is only love and the desire -for peace).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Then I may stay with you?' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I will not deny but she tempted me sore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But swift as the sunbeam that strikes from -cloud to hilltop, a thought came to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Listen to me, Rachel,' I said. 'At the break -of day or thereby all will be quiet. The Roaring -One and his crew will be snoring in bed——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Or on the floor,' said Rachel, with a quick -and dainty sniff of distaste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Either will suffice,' I said. 'Then will we go -down and call up the minister. We will cause -him to marry us, and then we will fear neither -traitor nor slanderer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'But he will not!' she cried. 'Donald Bain is -a bishop's hireling, and, besides, our Raif's boon -companion.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I drew my dirk and held it aloft, so that -the moonlight ran like molten silver down the -blade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'See,' said I, 'dear Rachel, if this does not gar -the curate of Kirkchrist marry us to a galloping -tune, Harry Wedderburn kens not the breed, that -is all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Content!' said she. 'I will do what you say, -Harry; only I will not go back to Kirkchrist nor -will I part from you now when I have gotten you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which thing I was most glad to hear from her -fair and loving lips. And I thought, smilingly, -that Rachel's manner of speaking these words -became her very well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So there in the din of the water-cavern and -under the wheeling shafts of silver light as the -moon swung overhead, we two abode well content, -waiting for the dawn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so, in this manner, and for all my brave -words, the witch got her way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">But how—we shall see.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-curate-of-kirkchrist"><span class="bold large">THE LITTLE FAIR MAN</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">III.—THE CURATE OF KIRKCHRIST</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"The manse of Kirkchrist parish was less than a -mile down the glen. It had only a week or two -before been taken possession of by one Donald -Bain, an ignorant fellow, so they said, intruded -upon us by the new bishop. For Mr. Gilbert, our -old and tried minister and servant of God, had -been removed, even as Mr. Rutherfurd had been -put out of Anwoth, and at about the same time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thither, then, we took our way, my dear -betrothed and I, with my wounded arm carried -across me, the sleeve being pinned to my coat front -so that I could not move my hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We kept entirely to the thickets by the waterside, -Rachel leading the way. For she had played -all her life at the game which had now become -earnest and deadly. But we need not have -troubled. For as we went, from far away, light as -a waft of wind blown athwart a meadow, we heard -the chorus of the roisterers in the house of -Kirkchrist, and emergent from the servile ruck, the -voice of her brother, the Roaring One, urging -good fellows all to 'come drink with him.' Somewhat -superfluously, indeed, to all appearance, for -the good fellows all had apparently been 'come-drink-ing' -all night to the best of their ability and -opportunities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After this Rae and I went a little more openly -and swiftly. This chiefly for my sake, because -the uneven ground and the little branches of the -hazel bushes caught and whipped my wounded -arm, making me more than once to wince with -the pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Rachel kept a little beneath me on the -brae, and bade me lean my well hand on her -shoulder, saying that I could not press over-hard, -and that the more I did so, the more would she -know that I loved her. In this not unpleasing -fashion we came to the house of the curate that -had so lately been intruded upon the manse of -godly Mr. Gilbert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The place was all dark, and the shutters put -over the windows for fear of shots from without. -Then with my sword hilt I began to knock, and the -noise of the blows resounded through the house -hollow and loud. For the Highlandman had as -yet put little furniture into it, save as they said a -sheave or two of rushes for a bed for himself, and -another for the wench that keeped house to -him—his sister, as he averred.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In no long space of time his reverence set a -shock head out of the window to ask what was -the din. The which he did in a bold manner, as -though he were the lord and master of the -neighbourhood. But I tamed him, for I bade him do his -curate's coat upon him, and bring his service book, -for that he was to marry two people there and then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Who be you that seek to be married so -untimeous?' he asked. 'Cannot ye be content -till the morning?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'That is just why we cannot be content,' I -answered; 'we must be far away by then!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So in a little he rose up grumbling and came down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Have you not also a maid in the house?' I -asked of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Aye,' said he, very dried like, 'my sister Jean!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Bid her rise. We have need of a witness!' -I bade him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'And I, of someone to hold the candle!' he added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was about four of the clock, and the east -little more than greying, as we four stood in -front of the manse of Kirkchrist. Had any -been abroad to see us we had seemed a curious -company. The curate in his white gown and -black bands, his shambling nightgear peeping out -above and under—a red peaked nightcap on his -head, the tassel of which nodded continually over -his right eye in a most ludicrous manner (only -that none thought of mirth that night). Beside -him, a dripping candle in her hand, stood his -sister, a buxom quean, blowsed with health and -ruddy as the cherry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Before these two I stood, 'a black towering -hulk with one arm in a sling' (Rachel's words), -and beside me, my sweet bride, dainty and light -as a butterfly at poise on a flower's lip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Overhead among the trees the wind began to -move, blowing thin and chill before the dawn. -And even as the curate thumbed and mumbled -beneath the flicker of the candle, I saw the light -break behind the Black Craig of Dee, and wondered -if ever Rae and I should dwell in peace and content -in the lee of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And because neither Rachel nor I knew that -form of words, Jean Bain kept us right, prompting -us how to kneel here, and what to answer there, -here to say our names over, and there promise -to love each other—the last not necessary, for if -we had not done that already, we had hardly -been at the manse of Kirkchrist at four of the -August morning in order to be wed by an alien -and uncovenanted priest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But scarcely had the blessing of Donald Bain -made us man and wife, when we heard the -roysterers' chorus again abroad on the hills, and -Jean Bain came rushing upon us wild with alarm. -She guessed well enough who we were. For the -searchers had been at the manse the night before -swearing to have my life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Flee,' she said; 'take to the heather for your -lives. They have sworn to kill your husband!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This I knew well enough; but the perversity -of fate which at that time clung to me, made -me ready to faint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I cannot go—I am dizzy with my wound!' I -said, and would have fallen but that Rachel and the -young Highland woman held me up in their arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All this time the shouting and hallooing like -the crying of hunters on the hills came nearer, -and the day was breaking fast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rachel and I were, indeed, in a strait place. -I bethought me on the Little Fair Man, and -almost repented that his counsels had brought me -to this. But even then, and in the house of the -Philistine, help came.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Come in with you both,' said Jean Bain in -a fierce voice, as if daring contradiction. 'Donald, -aff wi' your surplice and on wi' your coat. You -must meet them, and hold them in parley. It -shall not be said that a bridegroom was slaughtered -like an ox upon our doorstep within an hour of his -wedding.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With that she bustled us upstairs to her own -room. Truly enough, there was but one broad -pallet of heather covered with rushes spread on -the floor, and no other furniture whatever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Near the bed-head there was the low door of a -little closet or deep cupboard. Into this she -bade us enter, and told us that she would hang -her clothing over it upon the wooden pegs which -were there for the purpose. Since no better -might be we entered, for my head was running -round with my loss of blood and the pain in my -wounded arm. I was glad to lie down anywhere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then through the buzzing bees' byke in my -skull I could hear Jean Bain giving her last orders -to the curate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Hear ye, Donald, lee to them weel. Ye hae -seen nocht—ken nocht; and if they offer to bide, -tell them that it is the hour when ye engage -in family worship. That will flit them if nocht -else will!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And though I could hear the raucous voice of -that gomeril brother-in-law of mine at the bottom -of the stairs, I could not help laying my head -on Rachel's shoulder, and whispering in her ear -the words, 'Little wife!' To which she -responded with no more than 'Hush!' So there we -abode, crouching and cowering in that dark -cupboard while a score of raging demons turned -the curate's house upside down, crying for jugs -of brandy and tasses of aquavity, while Jean Bain -shrilly declared that no brandy could they expect -in such a poverty-stricken land, but good -home-brewed ale—and even that they should not have -unless they behaved themselves more seemly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But ever as I lay the darkness seemed to stretch -far above me, the walls to mount and then -swiftly come together again; now I was upheaved -on delicious billows of caller air, and anon -I fell earthward again through the illimitable vault -of heaven. Yet every now and then I would awake -for a moment to find my head on a sweeter than -Abraham's bosom, and so fall to contemning -my folly. But ere I had time to realise my -happiness I was off again ranging the universe, -or at converse with hundreds and hundreds of -mocking spirits that mopped and mowed about -my path. For I was just falling into a fever, -and my dear lass had to put her skirt about my -mouth to keep the man-hunters from hearing me -moan and struggle in my phantasy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By nine of the clock they had drunken all -that was in the curate's house, and poor Donald -Bain had gone to convoy them on their way. -They were going (so they swore) to the Black -Craig o' Dee to rout me out of my den. And -this made Rachel very sore afraid, for she knew -well that if we were to go back to the damp -cave in the linn I would never rise from my bed -alive. And now, as she thought, the way was -shut to our only port of refuge. Also she feared -for John, my brother—not being acquaint with -John, and conceiving tnat they might do him a -mischief, together with the innocent plough lads -and herds in the house. But this need not have -troubled her, for indeed no one about the Black -Craig o' Dee desired anything better than that -Roaring Raif and his crew should come near at -hand to receive the welcome prepared for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But in the very hour of the storm-breaking there -appeared a bieldy dyke-back to shelter two poor -lost wandering lambs. For no sooner was Donald -Bain out of the house with all the ungodly crew -than Jean, his sister, flew upstairs to us, with her -gown all pulled awry as she had escaped from -the hands of the roysterers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Come your ways out, you puir young things,' -she cried; 'they are gane, and the foul fiend ride -ahint them. May they never come this road -again, that kenned neither how to behave -themselves seemly in a manse nor how to conduct -them before a decent lass. Faith, they little -jalloused how near they were to gettin' a durk -between the ribs!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But by the time Rachel and Jean Bain got me -out of that darksome closet I was fairly beside -myself. The fever ran high, and I raved about -rivers of waters and the sound of great floods, and -threeped with them that I saw the Little Fair Man -coming on the wings of seraphims and cherubims -and lifting me up out of the mire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And as soon as Jean Bain heard the yammer -and yatter of my foolish running on, she went -to the closet for some simple herbs, and put -them in a pot over the fire to steam. Then she -bade Rachel help me down to the minister's -chamber, and between them they undressed me, -cutting the sleeve from my coat so as to save the -poor wounded arm. They got me finally between -the blankets, and made me drink of this herb-tea -and that, willy-nilly. For which, as I heard -afterwards, I called them 'witch-wives,' 'black crows -of a foul nest,' with many other names. But Jean -Bain held me by the arm that was whole, while -Rachel fleeched with me through her streaming -tears; and so in time they gat me to take down -the naughty-tasting brew. Nevertheless, in a little -it soothed me as a mother's lullaby doth a fractious -wean, and in time I fell on a refreshing sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet Rachel would not be comforted, but mourned -for me greatly, till Jean Bain told her of the yet -sorer case in which she and Donald had but lately -been. To which my lass rejoined, proud of her -exceedingly recent wifehood! 'Ah, but he is your -brother—not your man! I would not care what -became of Raif, not if they hanged him on the -Gallows hill, and the craws pyked his banes!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For she was angry with her brother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then all suddenly Jean Bain set her head -between her hands, and began to greet as if her -poor heart were near the breaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'He </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> my man—he </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> my man!' she cried. -"And I wish we were back again in bonny Banff, -him a herd-laddie an' me a herd-lassie, and that -we could hear again the waves break amang the -rocks at Tarlair!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Wedded—aye, that are we, firm and staunch,—but -Donald daurna let on, or Bishop Sydserf -wad turn him awa'. He will hae nae wedded -priests amang them that he sets ower his parochins. -But, as he says, men kinless and cumberless that -are neither feared to stand and fight or mount -and ride. It came aboot this gate. When Donald -was comin' awa' to get his lear, I was fair -broken-hearted. For we had herded lang thegether on -the gowden braes, and lain mony a simmer day -amang the broom wi' our een on the sheep, but -our hearts verra close the yin to the ither. The -bishop was o' our clan and country-side, and he -made Donald graund offers—siccan fat parishes -as there were in the Lawlands—stipend—house -and gear—guid faith, he dazzled a' the weel-doin' -laddies there-aboot. And Donald gied his word -to be a curate, for he was weel-learned, and had -been to the schule as mony as four winters, me -gangin wi' him, and carryin' his books when I -could win clear o' my mither.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'So since I couldna bide frae him, Donald -brocht me here to this cauld, ill, ootland place, -where we bide amang fremit and unco folk that -hate us. But we were married first and foremost -by the minister o' Deer, that was a third cousin o' -Donald's aunt's—and a solid man that can keep -his tongue safe and siccar ahint his teeth.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'But oh—this place that we thocht to be a -garden o' a delichts and an orchard o' gowden -fruit is hard and unkindly and bare. The gear -and plenishin' of this manse are nocht but the -heather beds that our ain fingers pu', and the -blankets we brocht wi' us. And for meat we hae -the fish o' the stream an' the birds that Donald -whiles shoots wi' his gun—paitricks and wild -ducks on the ponds. For no a penny's worth o' -steepend will they pay. And the bishop's -warrandice runs nae farther than the range o' the -guns o' his bodyguard.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So, after this explanation, the two women -mourned together as they tended me, and presently -the poor curate, Donald Bain, came back to find -them thus, and me raving at large, and trying to -tear off the bandages from my arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So here in this house, ill-furnished and cheerless, -this kindly couple kept us safely hid till the blast -had overblown and the bitterest of the shower -slacked. Five weeks we abode there before I -could be moved, and even then I was still as weak -as water. But for the last fortnight we lived in more -comfort. For the curate went over on a sheltie -which, as he said, he 'had fand in a field,' to the -Black Craig of Dee, and there held a long parley -with my brother in the gate, while John had all his -work to keep Gib Grier and his herd-laddies from -shooting the curate for a black hoodie craw o' -Prelacy, as they named him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And John came back with his visitor to the -manse of Kirkchrist on a beast with store of -provend upon it, together with good French wines -and other comforts, for the upbuilding of the sick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I declare I will never speak against a curate -again,' said John, when he heard that which we -had to tell him. And he kissed his new sister -Rachel with great and gracious goodwill, for John -was ever fond of a bonnie lass. Besides, we had -had no woman body about the Black Craig ever -since our mother died, when we were but wild -laddies herding the craws off the corn in the long -summer days, and hiding lest we should be made -to go with the funeral that wimpled over the moor -to the Kirkyaird of Kells.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Likewise also he saluted Jean Bain, or she -him—I am not sure which. For Jean was in no wise -backward in affection, but of a liberal, willing, -softish nature; fond of a talk with a lad over a -'yett,' and fond, too, of a kiss at parting. Which -last she gave to John with hearty goodwill, and -that, too, in the presence of the curate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And as we went slowly back over the heather, -John walked on one side of the horse which carried -me, and Rachel rode on the sheltie on the other. -John was silent for a long while, and then he all -at once said: 'Dod, but I think I could fancy -that Heelant lass mysel'!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So Rachel began to tell him how it was with -Donald Bain the curate and Jean his wife. For -with a woman's love for a fair field and no favour -in matters of love, she did not wish John to spend -himself on that which could never be his. Then -was John very doleful for a space.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But in time he, too, changed his mind, and -was most kind to poor Donald Bain and his wife -when in the year 1638 he was outed from his -parish in the same month that Sydserf, his master, -was set aside by the parliament and the people -of Scotland. Then great evil might have befallen -him but that, being long fully recovered from my -wound, Gib Grier and I set out for the manse -of Kirkchrist, and brought them both, Donald and -Jean, to the Black Craig of Dee, where in the -midst of our great moors and black moss-hags -they were safe even as I had been in their house. -And in our spare chamber, too, was born to them -a babe, a thing which, had it been kenned, would -have caused great scandal all over the land for -the wickedness of the curates. But none knew -(save John and Gib, who were sworn to secrecy) -till we gat them convoyed away to the north -again, where they did very well, and Donald -became chaplain to my Lord of Sutherland. -And every year for long and long the Edinburgh -carrier brought us a couple of haunches of venison -well smoked, which served us till Yule or Pasch, -and very toothsome and sweet it was. This was -a memorial from Donald Bain and Jean his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Douce and sober we lived, Rachel and I, we -who had been so strangely joined. For the Slee -Tod of Kirkchrist was glad enough to have his -daughter wed to one who asked neither dower -nor wedding-gift, tocher nor house linen; and -as for Roaring Raif, he broke his neck-bone over -the linn coming home one night from the rood-fair -of Dumfries. But I kept my mind steadfastly -set to make my new life atone for the faults of -the old—which may be bad theology, but is good -sound fact. And Rachel, like a valiant housewife, -aided me in that as in all things. So that I became -in time a man of mark, and was chosen an elder -by the Session of the parish. But nevertheless the -old Adam was not dead within me, but only kept -close behind bars waiting to be quits with me. For -as the years went by I was greatly taken up with -my own righteousness, and so in excellent case -to backslide.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now it chanced that, being one day in the -change house of the clachan, I heard one speak -lightly of our daughter Anne, that was now of -marriageable age, and of a most innocent and -merry heart. So anger took hold of me, and, -unmindful of my great strength, I dealt the young -man such a buffet on the side of his head that -he was carried out for dead, and indeed lay long -at his father's house between life and death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now this was a mighty sorrow to me and to -Rachel my wife. And though little was said -because of the provocation I had (which all had -heard), I thought it my duty to resign my office -of the eldership, confessing my hastiness and sin -to my brethren, and offering public contrition. -But for all that I gat no ease, but was under -a great cloud of doubt, feeling myself once again -without God and without hope in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then it came to me that if I could but see -the Little Fair Man again he would tell me what -I should do. I knew that he had been of a long -season regent of a college in the town of Sanct -Anders. So I gave myself no rest day nor night -till my good wife, after vainly trying to settle me -by her loving words, made all preparation of -provend in saddle-bags, and guineas in pouch, and -set me on a good beast at the louping-on stone -by our door. It was the first year of the restored -King Charles, the Second of that name, and the -darkness was just thickening upon the land, a -darkness greater than the first, when I set out to -see Mr. Rutherfurd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the early part of my travel all went well, -but when I was passing through the town of -Hamilton, certain soldiers set upon me, asking -for my pass, and calling me 'Westland Whig' and -'canting rebel.' They would have taken from me -all that I had, having already turned my -saddle-bags outside in, and one of them even came near -to thrust his hand into my pocket, when a coach -drove up with six horses and outriders mired to -the shoulders. Then a pair of grand servants -sprang down from behind, and cried: 'Room for -my Lord Bishop!' And at this the soldiers -desisted from plundering me to do their obeisance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then there came forth first a rosy buxom -woman, breathing heavily, and holding out a -plump hand to the man-servant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But when she saw me with a soldier at either -side, she took one long look, and then cried out -in a hearty voice: 'What's this—what's this—my -friend Harry Wedderburn in the gled's claws? -Let be, scullions! Donald, here's our host frae -the Black Craig o' Dee!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And forthwith, the soldiers falling back abashed, -the bishop's lady, she that had been poor Jean -Bain, came at me in her old reckless way, and -flung her arms about my neck, kissing me soundly -and heartily—as I had not been kissed of a long -season by any save Rachel, me being no more -a young man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the bishop was no other than Donald -himself, the same who had been curate of -Kirkchrist—and a right reverend prelate he looked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then nothing would do Jean and Donald but -I must get into the carriage with them, and have -one of their men-servants ride my beast into -Edinburgh. Neither excuse nor nay-say would -my lady bishop take. So in this manner we -travelled very comfortably, I sitting beside her, -and at Edinburgh we parted, I to Sanct Anders, -they to a lodging near my Lord of Sutherland's -house, to whose influence with the king they owed -their advancement. For they were hand and glove -with him. And the morning I was to ride away -came their carriage to the door, and lo! my lady -again—this time with a safe-conduct and letter of -certification from the Privy Council setting forth -that I was a person notably well-affected and -staunch; that none were to hinder or molest me -or mine in body or estate under penalty of the -King's displeasure. Which thing in the troublous -times to come more than once or twice stood -me in great stead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But when I came to Sanct Anders, the first -thing I heard was that Mr. Rutherfurd lay a-dying -in his college of St. Mary's. I betook me thither, -and lo! a guard of soldiers was about the doors, -and would in no wise permit me pass. They were -burning a pile of books, and I heard say that it -was done by order of the parliament, and that -thereafter Mr. Rutherfurd was to be carried out, -alive or dead, and his bed set in the open street. -</span><em class="italics">Lex Rex</em><span> was the name of the book I saw them -turning this way and that with sticks, so as to -make the leaves burn faster. I know not why -it was so dour to catch, for out of curiosity I got -me a copy afterwards, and the Lord knows it was -dry enough—at least to my taste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But after a while, showing the officer my Privy -Council letter, I prevailed on him that I had a -mandate from government to see Mr. Rutherfurd, -and that I had come directly and of purpose from -Edinburgh to oversee the affair, and report on -those who were diligent. So at long and last -they let me go up the stair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And at the top I found many doors closed, but -one open, and the sound of a voice I knew well -speaking within.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And still it was telling the praises of the -Friend—yes, after a lifetime of struggle and suffering. -Nor do I think that, save for taking rest in sleep, -the voice had ever been silent on that theme.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So though none knew me, I passed straight -through the little company to the deathbed of -the man who spoke. He was the Little Fair Man -no longer. But his scant white hair lay soft as -silk on the pillow. His face was pale as ivory, -his cheeks fallen in, only his eyes glowed like live -coals deep-sunken in his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'So, friend—you have come to see an old man -die,' he said, when his eyes lighted on me; 'what, -a bairn of mine, sayst thou—not after the flesh -but after the spirit. Aye, I do mind that day at -Kells. A gale from the Lord blew about us that -day. So you are Harry of the Rude Hand, and -you have fallen into sin. Ah, you must not come -to me—you must to the Master! You had -better have gone to your closet, and worn the -whinstone a little with the knees of your breeks. -And yet I ken not. None hath been a greater -sinner or known greater mercy than Samuel -Rutherfurd. I am summoned by the Star -Chamber—I go to the chamber of Stars. I will -see the King. I will carry Him your message, -Harry. Fear not, the young man you smote will -recover. He will yet bless you for laying a hand -on him, even as this day you acknowledge the -unworthy servant who on the green sward of Kells -called you out of darkness into His marvellous light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Sir, fare you well. Go home to your wife, -nothing doubting. This night shall close the door. -At five of the morning I will fasten my anchor -within the veil.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And even as he said so it was. He passed -away, and, as for me, secure that he would carry my -message to the Alone Forgiver of Sins I returned -home to find the youth recovered and penitent. He -afterwards became a noted professor and field -preacher, and died sealing his testimony with -his blood on the victorious field of Loudon Hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is the testimony of me, Harry Wedderburn, -sometime called Strength-o'-Airm, who now in -the valley of peace and a restored Israel wait -the consummation of all things. Being very -lonely, I write these things out to pass the time -till I, too, cast mine anchor within the veil. And I -cheer myself with thinking that two shall meet me -there, one on either side of the gate—Rachel, my -heart's dear partner, and the Little Fair Man, -who will take by either hand and lead into the -presence of the Friend, poor unworthy Harry -Wedderburn, sometime bond-slave of sin, but now -servant most unprofitable of the Lord."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>(Note by Mr. John Wedderburn.—"</span><em class="italics">My father -departed this life on the morning after finishing this -paper, sleeping quietly away about five of the clock.</em><span>")</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="my-father-s-love-story"><span class="bold large">MY FATHER'S LOVE STORY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When I am putting together family stories, new -and old, I may as well tell my father's. Sometimes -we of a younger day thought him stiff, silent, out -of sympathy with our interests and amusements; -but the saving salt of humour that was in him -made this only seeming. In reality tolerance and -kindliest understanding beaconed from under the -covert of his bushy grey eyebrows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was the savour of an infinite discernment -in the slow "Aye?" with which he was wont to -receive any doubtful statement. My mother said -ever ten words for his one, and it was his wont -to listen to her gravely and unsmilingly, as if -giving the subject the profoundest attention, while -all the time his thoughts were far away—a fact -well understood and much resented by his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What am I talkin' aboot, Saunders?" she -would say, pausing in the midst of a commination -upon some new and garish fashion in dress, or -the late hours kept by certain young men not a -thousand miles away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, breaking the second commandment, as -usual," he would reply; "discoursing of the -heavens above, the earth beneath, and the waters -under the earth!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Havers," she would reply, her face, however, -glancing at him bright as a new-milled shilling, -"your thochts were awa' on the mountains o' -vainity! Naething richt waukens ye up but a -minister to argue wi'!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, indeed, that was a true word. For though -an unusually silent man, my father, Alexander (or -Saunders) McQuhirr, liked nothing better than a -minister to argue with—if one of the Kirk of -Scotland, well and good. There was the Revolution -Settlement, the Headship of Christ, the Power of -the Civil Magistrate. My father enjoyed himself -thoroughly, and if the minister chanced to be -worthy, so did he. But it took a Cameronian or an -Original Secession divine really to rouse within him, -what my mother called "his bowels of wrath."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is a distinct Brownist strain in your -opinions, Alexander," Mr. Osbourne would -say—his own minister from the Kirk on the Hill. -"Your father's name was not Abel for nothing!"[#]</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] "Abel," "Jacob," "Abraham" were not common names -in Scotland, and such as occurred in families during last -century might generally be traced to the time of Cromwellian -occupation. David and Samuel were the only really -common Old Testament names at that time.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mr. Osbourne generally reminded him of this -when he had got the worse of some argument on -the true inwardness of the Marrow Controversy. -He did not like to be beaten, and my father was -a dour arguer. Once it is recorded that the -minister brought all the way up to Drumquhat -on a Communion Friday—the "off-day" as it were -of the Scottish Holy Week—the great Dr. Marcus -Lawton himself from Edinburgh. It happened -to be a wettish day in the lull between hay and -harvest. My father was doing something in the -outhouse where he kept his joinering tools, and -the two ministers joined him there early in the -forenoon. They were well into "Freewill" before -my father was at the end of the board he had been -planing. "Predestination" was the overword of -their conversation at the noonday meal, which all -three seemed to partake of as dispassionately as if -they had been stoking a fire—this to the great -indignation of my mother, who having been warned -of the proposed honour, had given herself even more -completely to hospitality than was habitual with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Osbourne, indeed, made a pretext of talking -to her about the price of butter, and how her -hens were laying. But she saw through him -even as he spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For, as she said afterwards, describing the scene, -"I saw his lug cockit for what the ither twa were -saying, and if it hadna been for the restrainin' -grace o' God, I declare I wad hae telled him -that butter was a guinea a pound in Dumfries -market, and that my hens were laying a score -o' eggs apiece every day—he never wad hae -kenned that I was tellin' him a lee!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All day the great controversy went on. Even -now I can remember the echoes of it coming to -me through the wet green leaves of the mallows -my mother had planted along the south-looking -wall. To this day I can hear the drip of the -water from the slates mingling with such phrases -as "the divine sovereignty," the "Covenant of -Works," "the Adamic dispensation." I see the -purple of the flowers and smell the sweet smell -of the pine shavings. They seemed to my childish -mind like three Titans hurling the longest words -in the dictionary at each other. I know nothing -wherewith to express the effect upon my mind of -this day-long conflict save that great line in the -fifth book of </span><em class="italics">Paradise Lost</em><span>:</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Thrones, dominations, princedoms, vertues, powers!"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was years after when first I read it, but -instantly I thought of that wet summer day in -Lammastide, when my father wrestled with his -peers concerning the deep things of eternity, and -was not overcome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My mother has often told me that he never slept -all that night—how waking in the dawn and -finding his place vacant, she had hastily thrown -on a gown and gone out to look for him. He -was walking up and down in the little orchard -behind the barn, his hands clasped behind his -back. And all he said in answer to her reproaches -was: "It's vexin', Mary, to think that I only -minded that text in Ephesians about being 'sealed -unto the day of redemption' after he was ower -the hill. It wad hae ta'en the feet clean frae -him if I had gotten hand o' it in time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What can ye do wi' a man like that?" -she would conclude, summing up her husband's -character, mostly in his hearing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But remember, Mary, the pit from which I -was digged!" he would reply, reaching down the -worn old leather-bound copy of Boston's </span><em class="italics">Fourfold -State</em><span> out of the wall-press and settling himself -to re-peruse a favourite chapter.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>My father's father, Yabel McQuhirr, was a -fierce hard man, and seldom showed his heart, -ruling his house with a rod of iron, setting each -in his place, wife, child, man-servant and -maid-servant, ox and ass—aye, and the stranger within -his gates.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My father does not talk of these things, but -my mother has often told me of that strange -household up among the granite hills, to which, -as a maid of nineteen, she went to serve. In -those days in all the Galloway farm-towns, master -and servant sat down together to meals. The -head of the house was lawgiver and potentate, -priest and parent to all beneath his roof. And -if Yabel McQuhirr of Ardmannoch did not -exercise the right of pit and gallows, it was about -all the authority he did not claim over his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yabel had a family of strong sons, silent, -dour—the doctrine of unquestioning obedience driven into -them by their father's right arm and oaken staff. -But their love was for their mother, who drifted -through the house with a foot light as a falling -leaf, and a voice attuned to the murmuring of a hill -stream. There was no daughter in the household, -and Mary McArthur had come partly to supply -the want. She had brought a sore little heart -with her, all because of a certain ship that had -gone over the sea, and the glint of a sailor lad's -merry blue eyes she would see no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had therefore no mind for love-making, and -Thomas and Abel, the two eldest sons, got very -short answers for their pains when they "tried their -hand" on their mother's new house-lass. Tom, -the eldest, took it well enough, and went -elsewhere; but Abel was a bully by nature, and would -not let the girl alone. Once he kissed her by -force as, hand-tied, she carried in the peats from -the stack. Whereupon Alexander, the silent third -brother, found out the reason of Mary's red eyes, -and interviewed his brother behind the barn to -such purpose that his face bore the marks of -fraternal knuckles for a week. Also Alexander -had his lip split.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ye hae been fechtin' again, ye blakes," -thundered their father. "Mind ye, if this happens -again I will break every bane in your bodies. I -will have you know that I am a man of peace! -How did you get that black eye, Yabel?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I trippit ower the shaft o' a cairt!" said Abel, -lying glibly in fear of consequences.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you, Alexander—where gat ye that lip?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I ran against something!" said the defender -of innocence, succinctly. And stuck to it -stubbornly, refusing all amplification.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said their father, grimly, "take considerably -more heed to your going, both of ye, or you -may run against something more serious still!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he whistled on his dogs, and went up -the dyke-side towards the hill.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After this, Alexander always carried in the -peats for Mary McArthur, and, in spite of the -taunts and gibes of his brothers, did such part -of her work as lay outside the house. On winter -nights and mornings he lighted the stable lantern -for her before she went to milk the kye, and -then when she was come to the byre he took his -mother's stool and pail and milked beside her -cow for cow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All these things he did without speaking a word -of love, or, indeed, saying a word of anything -beyond the commonplaces of a country life. He -never told her whether or no he had heard about -the sailor lad who had gone over seas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indeed, he never referred to the subject throughout -a long lifetime. All the same, I think he -must have suspected, and with natural gentleness -and courtesy set himself to ease the girl's -heart-sore burden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sometimes Mary would raise her eyes and catch -him looking at her—that was all. And more often -she was conscious of his grave staid regard when -she did not look up. At first it fretted her a -little. For, of course, she could never love -again—never believe any man's word. Life was ended -for her—ended at nineteen! So at least Mary -McArthur told herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But all the same, there—a pillar for support, -a buckler for defence, was Alexander McQuhirr, -strong, undemonstrative, dependable. One day -she had cut her finger, and he was rolling it up -for her daintily as a woman. They were alone in -the shearing field together. Alexander had the -lint and the thread in his pocket. So, indeed, he -anticipated her wants silently all his life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had hurt a good deal, and before he had -finished the tears stood brimming in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you must get tired of me. I bring all -my cut fingers to you, Alec!" she said, looking -up at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave a kind of gasp, as if he were going -to say something, as a single drop of salt water -pearled itself and ran down Mary's cheek; but -instead he only folded the lint more carefully in at -the top, and went on rolling the thread round it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is learnin' to love me!" he thought, with -some pleasure, but he was too bashful and diffident -to take advantage of her feeling. He contented -himself with making her life easier and sweeter -in that hard upland cantonment of more than -military discipline, from whose rocky soil Yabel -and his sons dragged the bare necessities of life, -as it were, at the point of the bayonet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the time he was thinking hard behind his -broad forehead, this quiet Alexander McQuhirr. -He was the third son. His father was a poor -man. He had nothing to look for from him. In -time Tom would succeed to the farm. It was -clear, then, that if he was ever to be anything, -he must strike out early for himself. And, as -many a time before and since, it was the tears -in the eyes of a girl that brought matters to the -breaking point.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, just the wet eyes of a girl—that is, of -Mary McArthur, as she looked up at him -suddenly in the harvest-field among the serried lines -of stocks, and said: "I bring all my cut fingers -to you, Alec!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something, he knew not exactly what, appealed -to him so strongly in that word and look, that -resolve came upon him sudden as lightning, and -binding as an oath—the man's instinct to be all -and to do all for the woman he loves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was unusually silent during the rest of the -day, so that Mary McArthur, walking beside him -down the loaning to bring home the cows, said: -"You are no vexed wi' me for onything, Alec?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was the man's soul of Saunders McQuhirr -which had come to him as a birthright—born out -of a glance. He was a boy no longer. And that -night, as his father Yabel stood looking over his -scanty acres with a kind of grim satisfaction in -the golden array of corn stooks, his son Alexander -went quietly up to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," he said, "next week I shall be -one-and-twenty!" In times of stress they spoke the -English of the schools and of the Bible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His father turned a deep-set irascible eye upon -him. The thick over-brooding brows lowered -convulsively above him. A kind of illuminating -flash like faint sheet lightning passed over the -stern face. A week ago, nay, even twenty-four -hours ago, Saunders McQuhirr would have trembled -to have his father look at him thus. But—he had -bound up a girl's finger since then, and seen her -eyes wet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what of that?" The words came fiercely -from Yabel, with a rising anger in them, a kind -of trumpet blare heralding the storm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am thinking of taking a herd's place at the -term!" said Alexander, quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yabel lifted his great body off the dyke-top, -on which he had been leaning with his elbows. -He towered a good four inches above his son, -though my father was always considered a tall man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You—you are going to take a herd's place—at -the term—-you?" he said, slowly and incredulously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," answered his son; "you will not need -me. There is no outgate for me here, and I have -my way to make in the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what need have you of an outgate, sir?" -cried his father. "Have I housed you and schooled -you and reared you that, when at last you are of -some use, you should leave your father and mother -at a word, like a day-labourer on Saturday night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A day-labourer on Saturday night gets his -wages—I have not asked for any!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this answer Yabel stood tempestuously -wrathful for a moment, his hand and arm uplifted -and twitching to strike. Then all suddenly his -mood changed. It became scornfully ironic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see," he said, dropping his arm, "there's a -lass behind this—that is the meaning of all the -peat-carrying and byre-milking and handfasting in -corners. Well, sirrah, I give you this one night. -In the morning you shall pack. From this instant -I forbid you to touch aught belonging to me, corn -or fodder, horse or bestial. Ye shall tramp, lad, -you and your madam with you. The day is not -yet, thank the Lord, when Abel McQuhirr is not -master in his own house!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the son that had been a boy was now a -man. He stood before his father, giving him back -glance for glance. And an observer would have -seen a great similarity between the two, the same -attitude to a line, the massive head thrown back, -the foot advanced, the deep-set eye, the -compressed mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, father!" said Alexander McQuhirr, -and he went away, carrying his bonnet in his hand.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And on the morning that followed the sleepless -night of thinking and planning, Alexander -McQuhirr went forth to face the world, his plaid -about his shoulders, his staff in his hand, his -mother's blessing upon his head—and, what was -most of all to a young man, his sweetheart's kiss -upon his lips:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For in this part of his mandate Yabel had -reckoned without his host. His wife, long trained -to keep silence for the sake of peace, had turned -and openly defied him—nay, had won the victory. -The "Man of Wrath" knew exactly how far it -was wise to push the doctrine of unquestioning -wifely obedience. Mary McArthur was to bide -still where she was, till—well, till another home -was ready for her. And though her eyes were -red, and there was no one to tie up her cut -fingers any more, there was a kind of pride upon -her face too. And the image of the young -sailor-man over seas utterly faded away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At ten by the clock, Yabel McQuhirr, down -in his harvest-field, saw his son set out. He -gave no farewell. He waved no hand. He said -no word. All the same, he smiled grimly to -himself behind the obedient backs of Tom and -Abel the younger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's the best stuff o' the lot in that fule -laddie," he growled; "even so for a lass's sake -left I my father's house!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And of all his children, this dour, hard-mouthed, -gnarl-fisted man loved best the boy who for the -sake of a lass had outcasted himself without fear -and without hesitation.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was to a herd's house, shining white on a -hillside, a burnie trilling below, the red heather -surging about the garden dyke on all sides, -that Alexander McQuhirr took his wife Mary, -a year later. And there in the fulness of time -my brother Willie was born—the child of the -cot-house and of the kailyaird. In time followed -other, if not better things—first a small -holding, then a farm—then I, Alexander the second. -And still, thank God, we, the children of Mary -McArthur, run with our cut fingers to that -steadfast, loving, silent man, Saunders McQuhirr, -son of Yabel, the Man of Violence and Wrath.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-man-of-wrath"><span class="bold large">THE MAN OF WRATH</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A man of wrath was my grandfather, Yabel -McQuhirr, from his youth up. And I am now -going to tell the story of how by a strange -providence he was turned aside from the last sin -of Judas, and how he became in his latter days -a man of peace and a lover of young children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was my father's father, and I have already -told how that son of his to whom I owe my life, -went forth to make a new hearthstone warm and -bright for the girl who was to be my mother. But -after the departure of that third son, darker and -darker descended the gloom upon the lonely -uplying farm. Fiercer and ever fiercer fell the -angers of Yabel McQuhirr upon his remaining -children, Thomas and Abel—the latter named -after his father, but whose Christian name never -acquired the antique and preliminary "Y" that -marks the border-line between the old and the new.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One dismal Monday morning in the back-end -of the year there were bitter words spoken in the -barn at the threshing, between Thomas and his -father. Retort followed retort, till, with knotted -fist, the father savagely felled the youth to the -ground. There was blood upon the clean yellow -straw when he rose. Thomas went indoors, opened -his little chest, took from it all the money he had, -shook hands silently with his mother, and took -his way over the Rig of Bennanbrack, never to -be heard of more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And after this ever closer and closer Yabel -McQuhirr shut the door of his heart. He hardened -himself under the weight of his wife's gentle -sufferance and reproachful silences. He gripped his -hands together when, with the corner of an eye -that would not humble itself to look, he saw the -tear trickling down the wasted cheek. He uttered -no word of sorrow for the past, nor did the name -of either of his departed sons pass his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, he grew markedly kinder in deed -to Abel, the one son who remained—not much -kinder in word perhaps, for still that loud and angry -voice could be heard coming from field and meadow, -barn or byre, till the fearful mother would steal -silent-footed to the kitchen-door lest the last part -of her threefold sorrow should indeed have come -upon her. But not in this manner was the blow -to fall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Abel was the least worthy but greatly the -handsomest of the sons of Yabel McQuhirr. He -had a large visiting acquaintance among the -farm-towns, and often did not seek his garret-bed till -the small hours of the morning. Then his mother, -awake and vigilant, would incline her ear on the -pillow to hear whether her husband was asleep -beside her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, oftentimes Yabel, her husband, slept not, -yet for his wife's sake, and perhaps because Abel, -with his bright smile and clean-limbed figure, -reminded him of a wild youth he had long put -behind him, he bore with the lad, even to giving -him in one short year more money to spend than -had been his brothers' portion during all the time -they had faithfully served their father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And this was not good for a young man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So that early one spring, the wild oat crop that -Abel had been sowing began to appear with braird -and luxuriant shoot. A whisper overran the -parish swifter than the moor-burn when the -heather is dry on the moors. Two names were -coupled, not unto honour. And on a certain wild -March morning, Yabel McQuhirr, having called -his son three times, clambered fiercely up to the -little garret stair to find an open skylight, a -pallet-bed not slept in, and a home that was now -childless from flagged hearth to smoke-browned -roof-tree.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Yabel rode to market upon Mary Grey, his old -rough-fetlocked mare, once badger-grey, but now -white as the sea-gulls that fluttered and settled -upon his springtime furrows. He heard no word -of the story of Abel his son and the gypsy lass, -for none durst tell him—till one Rob Girmory of -Barscob, bolder or drunker than the rest, blurted -it out with an oath and a scurvy jest. The next -moment he was smitten down, and Yabel -McQuhirr stood over him with his riding-whip -clubbed in his hand, the fierce irascible eyebrows -twitching, and wide nostrils blown out with the -breath of the man's wrath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But certain good friends, strong-armed men -of peace, held him back, and got Girmory away -to a quiet cartshed, where, on a heap of straw, he -could sleep off his stupor and awake to wonder -what had given him that lump, great as a hen's -egg, over his right eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for Yabel McQuhirr he saddled Mary Grey -and took the road homeward lest any should -bring the story first to his wife. For Jen, his -Jen, was the kernel of that rough-husked, -hard-shelled heart. And as he rode, he cursed Girmory -with the slow studied anathema of the Puritan -which is not swearing, but something sterner, -solemner, more enduring. Sometimes he would -cheat himself by saying over and over that there -was nothing in the story. Abel had gone in his -best clothes to a neighbouring town—he knew -the lad had a pound or two that burnt a hole -in his spendthrift pocket. He would return -penitent when it was finished. And the old man -found himself already "birsing" with anger, and -thinking of what he would say to the returned -prodigal when he caught sight of him—a greeting -which would certainly not have run upon the -lines of the parable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, as he went on and on, fear began to enter -in, and he set his spurless heels grimly to Mary -Grey's well-padded ribs. Never had that sober -steed gone home at such a pace, and on brown -windy braefaces ploughmen stood wiping their -brows and watching and wondering. Shepherds, -high on the hills, set their palms horizontally -above their brows and murmured, "What's takin' -auld Yabel hame at sic a pelt this day, as if the -Ill Yin himsel' were after him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But for all his haste, some one had forestalled -him. The busybody in other men's matters, the -waspish gossip to whom the carrying of ill tidings -is a chief joy, had been before him. Mary Grey -had sweated in vain. There was no one to be -heard stirring as he tramped eagerly in—no one -flitting softly to and fro in milk-house or dairy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But within Yabel McQuhirr found his wife -fallen by the bake-board near the window, where -she had been at work when the Messenger of -Evil entered to do her fell work. Her eyes were -closed, her hands limp and numb. With a -hoarse inarticulate cry of rage Yabel raised his -wife and carried her to the neatly-made bed -with the patchwork quilt upon it. There he -laid her down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jen," he said, more gently than one could -have believed the rough harsh man of wrath could -have spoken, "Jen, waken, lassie. It's maybe no -true. I tak' it on my soul it's no true!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But on his wife's face there remained a strange -fixed smile, and her eyes, opening slowly, began -to follow him about wistfully, and seemed -somehow to beckon him. Then with infinite care -Yabel removed his wife's outer garments, -cutting that which would not loosen otherwise, till -the stricken woman reposed at ease beneath the -coverlet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Jen," he said, "I maun ride to the town -for a doctor. Will I tell Allison Brown to come -and look after you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wistful following eyes expressed neither -yea nor nay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then will I send in Jean Murray frae the Boreland?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The eyes were still indifferent. There was no -desire for the help of any of human kind in the -stricken woman's heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her husband watched her keenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or wad ye like Martha Yeatman ower frae -the Glen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then all suddenly the dull eyes flashed, glowed, -almost flamed, so fierce was the "No" that was -in them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yabel shut down his upper lip upon his nether. -He nodded his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I will bring the doctor, and nurse you -mysel'," he answered. But within him he said: -"So it was Martha o' the Glen. For this thing -will I reckon with Martha Yeatman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was fortunate for Mary Grey that the distance -was not long, for, like Jehu the son of Nimshi, -Yabel McQuhirr drave furiously. But at the bend -of the highway called the Far-away Turn, just -at the point at which the road dives down under -a tangle of birch and alder, the old white mare was -pulled suddenly up. For there was Dr. Brydson, -riding cautiously on his little round-barrelled sheltie, -his saddle-bags in front of him, and a silver-headed -Malacca cane held in his hand like a riding-whip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was no long time before the good old doctor -was raising the lax head of Yabel McQuhirr's -wife. The strange distant smile was still in her -eyes, and the left corner of her mouth twitched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has had a shock," said Dr. Brydson, -slowly, when Yabel and he had withdrawn a little. -He was pulling his chin meditatively, and not -thinking much of the husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A stroke!" said Yabel, and the tone of his -voice was so strange and terrible that the doctor -turned quickly—"but not unto death! You can -cure her—surely you can cure her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he caught the doctor by the arm and -shook it vehemently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take your hands away, sir, and calm yourself!" -said the physician. "If I am to do anything, -we must have none of this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say that she will not die!" he cried. And -the deep-set angry eyes flamed down upon the -physician, the great fists of iron were clenched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Brydson was a little man, but a long course of -being deferred to had given him great local dignity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will say nothing of the kind, sir," he retorted. -"I will do what I can; but this thing is the -visitation of God, and human skill avails but little. -Stand away from my patient, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at that moment a sudden and wondrous -change passed over the face of Yabel McQuhirr. -The physician was startled. It was like an -earthquake rifting and changing a landscape while one -looks. In the twinkling of an eye the fashion of -Yabel's countenance was altered. He would have -wept, yet stood gasping like one who knows not -the way to weep. Instead he uttered a hoarse -and terrible cry, and flung himself upon his knees -by the bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jen," he cried, "Jen—speak to me, Jen—to your -ain man Yabel! Say that this man lies! Tell -me ye are no gaun to dee, Jen—Jen, my Jen!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And at the voice of that strange crying the doctor -stood back, for he knew that no earthly physician -had power to stay a soul's agony.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, like a tide that wells up full to the -flood-mark, the slow love rose in the eyes of his wife. -Her lips moved. He bent his head eagerly. -They seemed to form his name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes," he said eagerly, "'Yabel, Yabel,' I -hear that! What mair? Tell me—oh, tell me, -ye are no gaun to leave me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bent his head lower, holding his breath and -laying his hand on his own heart as if to still its -dull, thick beating. But though the pallid lips -seemed to move, no words came, and Yabel -McQuhirr heaved up his head and struck his -palm upon his brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I canna hear!" he wailed. "She will dee, -and no speak to me!" Then he turned fiercely -upon the doctor, as if he did not know him. -"Who are you that spies on my grief, standing -there and doing nothing? Get oot o' my hoose, -lest I do ye a hurt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the indignant little man went at the word, -mounting his sheltie and riding away across the -moors without once turning his head, the "Penang -lawyer" tapping unwontedly upon the rounded -indignant flank of his little mare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Yabel turned again to his wife there were -tears in her eyes, and the heart of the Man of -Wrath was softened within him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am a fool," he said, "an angry fool. I have -driven him away that came to do her good. I -will call him back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But though he made the hills to echo, and the -startled sheep to run together into frightened -bunches, the insulted little doctor upon the sheltie -never turned in his saddle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vain is the help of man," said Yabel, as he -turned to go in, "and if God will not help me, -I will renounce Him also."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat awhile by Janet's side, and it was very -quiet, save for the clock ticking out the moments -of a woman's life. A hen cackled without in the -yard with sudden joy over an egg safely nested. -Yabel started up angrily and laid his hand on his -gun in the rack above the smoked mantel-board. -But the woman's eyes called him to desist, and -he sat down again beside her with a sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it, Jen? Can ye no speak to me?" The -eyes seemed to compel him yet lower—upon -his knees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To pray—I canna pray, Jen; I winna pray. -If the Lord tak's you, I will arise and curse Him -to His face."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The direction of the gaze changed. It was -upon the family Bible on the shelf, where it -lay with Boston's </span><em class="italics">Fourfold State</em><span> and a penny -almanack, the entire family library.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I to read?" said Yabel, reaching it down. -"What am I to read?" He ran down the table -of contents with his great stub-nailed fingers, -"Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus." But the speaking -eyes did not check him till he came to the Psalms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned them over till he came to the twenty-third. -The will in his wife's glance stopped him -again. He read the psalm slowly, kneeling on -his knees by the bedside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the fourth verse his voice changed. "</span><em class="italics">Yea, -though I walk through the valley of the shadow -of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with -me——</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And at the sound of these words the unstricken -left hand of his wife wavered upward uncertainly. -It lay a moment, with something in its touch -between a caress and a blessing, upon his head. -Then it dropped lightly back upon the coverlet.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Yabel McQuhirr sat till the gloaming by the -side of his dead wife, a terrible purpose firming -itself in his heart. His children had risen up -against him. God had cast him off. Well, he, -Yabel McQuhirr, would cast Him off. At His -very Judgment Seat he would dare Him, and so -be thrown unrepenting into the pit prepared for -the impenitent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had done that which was needful to the -body of his helpmeet of many years. There was -no more to do—save one thing. He rose and -was going out, when his bloodshot eye fell on the -great family Bible from which he had read eve -and morn for forty years. A spasm of anger -fierce as a blast from a furnace came over the -man. That Book had lied! It had deceived -him. He lifted it in one strong hand and threw -it upon the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he walked across the yard to the stable -to get a coil of cart rope. He stumbled rather than -stepped as he went, the ground somehow meeting -his feet unexpectedly. He could not find the rope, -and found himself exclaiming savagely at the -absent and outcast Abel who had mislaid it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last he found it among some stable litter, -lying beneath the peg on which it ought to have -hung. Gathering the coils up in his hand, he -crossed the straw-strewn yard again to the barn. -There were sound open beams in the open space -between mow and mow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">It</em><span> had best be done there," he muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a rustling among the straw as he -pushed back the upper half of the divided door—rats, -as he would have thought at another time. -Now he only wondered if he could reach the -beams by standing on the corn bushel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he made the knot firm and noosed the rope -through the loop, his eyes fell on the further door -of the barn—the one through which, in bygone -golden Septembers, he had so often pitchforked -the sheaves of corn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something moving between him and -the orchard door. In the dull light it looked like -a young child. And then the heart of Yabel -McQuhirr, who was not afraid to meet God face -to face, was filled with a great fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A faint moaning whimper came to his ear. -He dropped the coil of rope and ran back to -the house for the stable lantern. He lighted the -candle with a piece of red peat-ash, tossing the -unconsumed Bible off the fire. Only the rough -calf-skin cover was singed, and its smouldering -had filled the house with a keen acrid smell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yabel went out again with the lantern in his -hand. Without entering, he held it over the lower -half of the barn door which had swung to after -him. A young woman, clad in the habit of a -"gypsy" or "gaun body," lay huddled on the -straw, while over her, whimpering and nosing -like a puppy, crawled the most beautiful child -Yabel had ever seen. As the light broke into -the darkness of the barn the little fellow stood -up, a golden-haired boy of two years of age. -He smiled and blinked, then, with his hands -outstretched, he came running across the floor -to Yabel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mither willna speak to Davie," he said. "Up—up, -Mannie, tak' wee Davie up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sob, or something like it, rose in the stern -old man's throat. He could forfeit life, he could -defy God, he could abandon all his possessions; -but to leave this little shining innocent to -starve—no, he could not do it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He opened the door and went in. The child -insisted fearlessly on being taken in his arms. He -lifted him up, and the boy hid his face gladly on -his shoulder. Yabel put his hand on the woman's -breast; she was stone-cold, and had been so -for hours. Death had been busy both without -and within the little hill-farm that snell March -afternoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He covered her decently up with a pair of -corn-sacks, and as he did so a scrap of paper -showed between her fingers, white in the light of -the lantern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mither will soon be warm noo," said the child, -from the safe covert of Yabel's shoulder. And in -the clasping of the baby fingers the evil spirit -passed quite out of the heart of Yabel McQuhirr.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when by the open door of the lantern he -smoothed out the paper that had been in the dead -woman's fingers, he read these words:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is to bear testimony that I, Abel McQuhirr -the younger, take Alison Baillie to be my wedded -wife. Done in the presence of the undersigned -witnesses</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"Abel McQuhirr. May 3rd, 18—.</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"RO GRIER. } -<br />"JOHN LORRAINE. } Witnesses."</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>So in the day when Yabel McQuhirr defied -his Maker and hardened his heart, God sent unto -him His mercy in the shape of a young child. -Then, after the grave had claimed its dead, the -heart of Yabel was wondrously softened, and -these two dwelt on in the empty house in great -content. And in the rescued Book, with its -charred calf-skin cover, the old man reads to -the boy morning and evening the story of One -Other who came to sinful men in the likeness of a -Young Child. But though his heart takes comfort -in the record, Yabel never can bring himself to -read aloud that verse which says: "</span><em class="italics">Inasmuch as -ye did it unto one of the least of these ... ye did -it unto Me</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not worthy. He can never mean Yabel -McQuhirr," he says, and shuts the Book.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-lass-in-the-shop"><span class="bold large">THE LASS IN THE SHOP</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In Galloway, if you find an eldest son of the same -name as his father, search the mother's face for the -marks of a tragedy. An eldest son is rarely called -by his father's Christian name, and when he is, -usually there is a little grave down in the kirkyard -or a name that is seldom spoken in the house—a -dead Abel or a wandering Cain, at any rate a -first-born that was—and is not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now I am called Alexander McQuhirr. My -father also is Alexander McQuhirr. And the -reason is that a link has dropped out. I remember -the day I found out that you could make my -mother jump by coming quietly behind her and -calling "Willie." It was Willie McArthur I was -after—he had come over from Whinnyliggate to -play with me. We were busy at "hide-and-seek."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Willie!" I cried, sharp as one who would -wake an echo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My mother dropped a bowl and caught at her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is only recently that she told me the whole -story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The truth was that with twelve years between -our ages and Willie away most of the time, I -had no particular reason to remember my elder -brother. For years before I was born my mother -had been compassionated with by the good wives -of the neighbourhood, proud nursing mothers of -ten or eleven, because she could boast of but one -chicken in her brood. She has confessed to me -what she suffered on that account. And though -now I have younger brothers and the reproach -was wiped away in time, there are certain Job's -comforters whom my mother has never forgiven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She would be sure to spoil Willie,—one child in -a house was always spoilt. So the tongues went -ding-dong. It was foolish to send him to school -at Cairn Edward, throwing away good siller, -instead of keeping him at home to single the -turnips. Thus and thus was the reproach of my -mother's reluctant maternity rubbed in—and to -this day the rubbers are not forgotten. It will -be time enough to forgive them, thinks my mother, -when she comes to lie on her death-bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet from all that I can gather there was some -truth in what they said, and probably this is what -rankles in that dear, kindly, ever vehement bosom. -Willie was indeed spoilt. He was by all accounts -a handsome lad. He had his own way early, and -what was worse—money to spend upon it. At -thirteen he was bound apprentice to good honest -Joseph Baillieson of the Apothecaries' Hall in -Cairn Edward. Joseph was a chemist of the old -school, who, when a more than usually illegible -line occurred in the doctors' prescriptions of the -day, always said: "We'll caa' it barley-water. -That'll hairm naebody." All Joseph's dispensing -was of the eminently practical kind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Mr. Baillieson, therefore, Willie was made -apprentice, and if he would have profited, he could -not have been in better hands, and this story -never had been written. But the fact was, he -was too early away from home. He was my -mother's eye-apple, and as the farm was doing -well during these years, an occasional pound note -was slipped him when my mother was down on -Market Monday. Now this is a part of the -history she has never told me. I can only piece -it together from hints and suggestions. But it -is a road I know well. I have seen too many -walk in it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mainly, I do not think it was so much bad -company as thoughtlessness and high spirits. -Sweetmeats and gloves to a girl more witty than -wise, neckties and a small running account yonder, -membership of the rowing club and a small -occasional stake upon the races—not much in -themselves, perhaps, but more than enough for -an apprentice with two half-crowns a week of -pocket money. So there came a time when honest -Joseph Baillieson, with many misgivings and grave -down-drawings of upper lip, as I doubt not, took -my father into the little back shop where the -liniments were made up and the pills rolled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What they said to each other I do not know, -but when Alexander McQuhirr came out his face -was marvellously whitened. He waited for Willie -at his lodgings, and brought him home that night -with him. He stayed just a week at the farm, -restlessly scouring the hills by day and coming -in to his bed late at night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a time, by means of the minister, a place -was found for him in Edinburgh, and he set off -in the coach with his little box, leaving what -prayerful anxious hearts behind him only those -who are fathers and mothers know.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was to lodge with a good old woman in -the Pleasance, a regular hearer of Dr. Lawton's -of Lady Nixon's Wynd. For a small wage she -agreed to mend his socks and keep a motherly -eye on his morals. He was to be in by ten, and -latch-keys were not allowed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now I do not doubt that it was lonely for -Willie up there in the great city. And in all -condemnation, let the temptation be weighed and -noted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>May God bless the good folk of the Open -Door who, with sons and daughters of their own, -set wide their portals and invite the stranger -within where there is the sound of girlish laughter, -the boisterous give-and-take of youthful wit, -and—yes, as much as anything else, the clatter of -hospitable knives and forks working together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such an Open Door has saved many from -destruction, and in That Day it shall be counted -to that Man (or, more often, that Woman) for -righteousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For consider how lonely a lad's life is when -first he comes up from the country. He works -till he is weary, and in the evening the little -bedroom is intolerably lonely and infinitely stuffy. -If the Door of Kindness be not opened for him—if -he lack the friend's hand, the comrade's slap -on the back, the modest uplift of honest maidenly -eyes—take my word for it, the Lad in the Garret -will soon seek another way of it. There are -many that will show him the guide-posts of that -road. Other doors are open. Other laughter -rings, not mellow and sweet, but as the crackling -of thorns under a pot. If a youth be cut off -from the one, he will have the other—that is, if -the blood course hot and quick in his veins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so, good folk of the city, you bien and -comfortable householders, you true mothers in -Israel, fathers and mothers of brisk lads and -winsome lasses, do not forget that you may save -more souls from going down to the Pit in one -year than a score of ministers in a lifetime. And -I, who write these things, know.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Many a foot has been stayed on the Path called -Perilous simply because "a damsel named Rhoda" -came to answer a knock at a door. The time -is not at all bygone when "Given to hospitality" -is also a saving grace. And in the Day of Many -Surprises, it shall be said of many a plain man -and unpretending housewife: "</span><em class="italics">Inasmuch as ye -did it unto one of the least of these, ye did it -unto Me!</em><span>"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But so it was not with Willie my brother. -There was none to speak the word, and so he -did after his kind. How much he did or how far -he went I cannot tell. Perhaps it is best not -to know. But, at all events, I can remember his -home-coming to Drumquhat one Saturday night -after he had been a year or fifteen months in -Edinburgh. He came unexpectedly, and I was -sleeping in a little crib set across the foot of my -parents' bed in the "ben" room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My mother was a light sleeper all her days, -and, besides, I judge her heart was sore. For -never breeze tossed the trees or rustled the -beech-leaves, but she thought of her boy so far away. -In a moment she was up, and I after her, all -noiseless on my bare feet, though the tails of my -night gear flapped like a banner in the draughty -passage. The dogs upon the hearthstone never -so much as growled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wha's there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's me, mither!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Willie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was indeed Willie, a tall lad with a white -face, a bright colour high-set on his cheek-bone, -a dancing light in his eyes, and, at sight of his -mother, a smile on his lips. He was dressed in -what seemed to me a style of grandeur such as -I had never beheld, probably no more than a suit -of town-cut tweeds, a smart tie, and a watch-chain. -But then my standard was grey home-spun and -home-dyed—as often as not home-tailored too. -And Solomon in all his glory did not seem to -be arrayed one half so nobly as my elder brother -Willie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I do not mind much about the visit, except that -Willie let me wear his watch-chain, which was of -gold, for nearly half-an-hour, and promised that the -next time he came back he would trust me with -the watch, as well. But the following afternoon -something happened that I do remember. After -dinner, which was at noon as it had been ever -since the beginning of time, my father sat still -in his great corner chair instead of going to the -barn. My mother sent me out to play.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And bide in the yaird till I send for ye, -mind—and dinna let me see your face till tea-time!" -was her command, giving me a friendly cuff on -the ear by way of speeding the parting guest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this I knew that there was something she -did not want me to hear. So I went about the -house to the little window at which my father -said his prayers. It stood open as always, like -Daniel's, towards Jerusalem. I could not hear -very well; but that was no fault of mine. I did -my best.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Willie was speaking very fast, telling his father -something—something to which my mother -vehemently objected. I could hear her interruptions -rising stormily, and my father trying to -calm her. Willie spoke low, except now and -then when his voice broke into a kind of scream. -I remember being very wae for him, and feeling -in my pocket for a dirty half-sucked brandy ball -which I resolved to give him when he came out. -It had often comforted me in times of trouble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Siclike nonsense I never heard!" cried my -mother, "a callant like you! A besom—a -designing madam, nocht else—that's what she -is! I wonder to hear ye, Willie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wheesh, wheest—Mary!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could hear my father's voice, grave and sober -as ever. Then Willie's vehement rush of words -went on till I heard my mother break in again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marriage! Marriage! Sirce, heard ye ever -the like? A bairn to speak to me o' mairrying -a woman naebody kens ocht aboot—a 'lass in -a shop,' ye say; aye, I'se warrant a bonny -shop——!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then there came the sound of a chair pushed -vehemently back, the crash of a falling dish. My -father's voice, deep and terrible so that I trembled, -followed. "Sir, sit down on your seat and -compose yourself! Do not speak thus to your -mother!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will not sit down—I will not compose -myself—I will never sit down in this house -again—I will marry Lizzie in spite of you all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And almost before I could get round to the -front yard again Willie had come whirling all -disorderedly out of the kitchen door, shutting it -to with a clash that shook the house. Then with -wild and angry eyes he strode across the straw-littered -space, taking no notice of me, but leaping -the gate and so down the little loaning and -up towards the heather like a man walking in -his sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I remember I ran after him, calling him to -come back; but he never heeded me till I pulled -him by the coat tails. It was away up near the -march dyke, and I could hardly speak with -running so fast. He stared as if he did not -know me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, dinna—dinna—come back!" I cried (and -I think I wept); "dinna vex my mither!—And—there's -'rummelt tawties'{#} to the supper!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] "Rummelt tawties," </span><em class="italics small">i.e.</em><span class="small">, a sort of </span><em class="italics small">purée</em><span class="small"> of potatoes, -made in the pot in which they have been boiled, with sweet -milk, butter, and sometimes a little flavouring of cheese. All -hands are expected to assist in the operation of "champing," -that is, pounding and stirring them to a proper consistency -of toothsomeness.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But Willie would not stop for all I could say -to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, he patted me on the head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bide at hame and be Jacob," he said; "they -have cast out this Esau."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For he had been well learned in the Bible, and -once got a prize for catechism at the day school -at Whinnyliggate. It was Boston's </span><em class="italics">Fourfold -State</em><span>, so, though there were three copies in the -house, I never tried to read it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So saying, he took the hillside like a goat, -while I stood open-mouthed, gazing at the lithe -figure of him who was my brother as it grew -smaller, and finally vanished over the heathery -shoulder of the Rig of Drumquhat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That night I heard my father and mother talking -far into the morning, while I made a pretence -of sleeping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will never own him!" said my father, who -was now the angry one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm feared he doesna look strong!" answered -my mother in the darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He shall sup sorrow for the way he spoke to -the father that begat him and the mother that bore -him!" said my father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dinna say that, guidman!" pled my mother; -"it is like cursin' oor ain firstborn. Think how -proud ye were the time he grippit ye by the -hand comin' up the loanin' an' caa'ed ye 'Dadda!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After this there was silence for a space, and -then it was my mother who spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Alexander, you shallna gang to Edinbra -to bring him hame. Gin yin o' us maun gang, -let it be me. For ye wad be overly sore on the -lad. But oh, the madam—the Jezebel, her that -has wiled him awa' frae us, wait till I get my -tongue on her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And this is how my mother carried out her -threat, told in her own words.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Oh, that weary toon!" she said afterwards. -"The streets sae het and dry, the blawin' stoor, the -peetifu' bairns in the gutter, and the puir -chapman's joes standin' at the close-mouths wi' their -shawls aboot their heads! I wondered what yin -o' them had gotten haud o' my Willie. But at -last I cam' to the place where he lodged. It was -at a time o' the day when I kenned he wad be -at his wark. It was a hoose as muckle as three -kirks a' biggit on the tap o' yin anither, an' my -Willie bode, as it were, in the tapmaist laft.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was an auld lame woman wi' a mutch on -her head that opened the door. I askit for Willie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'He's no here,' says she; 'an' what may ye -want wi' him?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I'm his mither,' says I, and steppit ben. She -was gye thrawn at the first, but I sune tamed her. -She was backward to tell me ocht aboot Willie's -ongangin's, but nane backward to tell me that -his 'book' hadna been payit for six weeks, and -that she was sore in need o' the siller. So I -countit it doon to her shillin' by shillin', penny by -penny.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'An' noo,' says I, 'tell me a' ye ken o' this -madam that has bewitched my bairn, her that's -costin' him a' this siller—for doubtless he is wearin' -it on the Jezebel—an' breakin' his mither's heart.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then the landlady's face took on anither cast -and colour. She hummed an' hawed a whilie. -Then at last she speaks plain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'She's nane an ill lass,' she says, ''deed, she -comes o' guid kin, and—she's neither mair nor -less than sister's bairn to mysel'!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wi' that I rises to my feet. 'If she be in this -hoose, let me see her. I will speak wi' the woman -face to face. Oh, if I could only catch them -thegither I wad let her ken what it is to twine a -mither and her boy!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The auld lame guidwife opens the door o' a -bit closet wi' a bed in it and a chair or twa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Gang in there,' she says, 'an' ye shall hae -your desire. In a quarter o' an hour Lisbeth will -be comin' hame frae the shop where she serves, -and its mair than likely that your son will be -wi' her!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And wi' that she snecks the door wi' a brainge. -For I could see she was angry at what I had said -aboot her kith an' kin. And I liked her the -better for that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So there I sat thinkin' on what I wad say to -the lass when she cam' in. And aye the mair I -thocht, the faster the words raise in my mind, till -I was fair feared I wad never get time to utter a -tenth-part o' my mind. It needna hae troubled -me, had I only kenned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then there was the risp o' a key in the lock, -for in thae rickles o' stane an' lime that they rin -up noo a days, ye can hear a cat sneeze ower a -hale 'flat.' I heard footsteps gang by the door o' -the closet an' intil the front room. And I grippit -the handle, bidin' my time to break oot on them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But there was something that held me. A -lassie's voice, fleechin' and fleechin' wi' the lad she -loves as if for life or death. Hoo did I ken -that?—Weel, it's nae business o' yours, Alec, hoo I -kenned it. But yince hear it and ye'll never -forget it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Willie,' it said, 'tak' the siller, I dinna need it. -Put it back before they miss it—and oh, never, -never gang to thae races again!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I sat stane-cauld, dumb-stricken. It was an -awesome thing for a mither to hear. Then Willie -answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"''Lizzie,' he said, and, I kenned he had been -greeting, 'Lizzie, I canna tak' the money. I -would be a greater hound than I am if I took -the siller ye hae saved for the house and the -marriage braws—and——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Oh, Will,' she cried, and I kenned fine she -was greetin' too, an' grippin' him aboot the neck, -'I dinna want to be mairried—I dinna want a -hoose o' my ain—I dinna want ony weddin' braws, -if only ye will tak' the siller—and—be my ain -guid lad and never break your mither's heart—an' -mine! Oh, promise me, Willie! Let me hear -ye promise me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, she said that—an' me hidin' there ready -to speak to her like a tinkler's messan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I opens the door an' gaed in. Willie had -some pound notes grippit in his hand, and the lassie -was on her knees thankin' God that he had ta'en -her hard-earned savin's as she asked him, and -that he had promised to be a guid boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Mither!' says Willie, and his lips were white.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And at the word the lassie rises, and I could -see her legs tremble aneath her as she cam' nearer -to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Dinna be hard on him,' she says; 'he has -promised——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'What's that in your hand?' says I, pointing -at the siller.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'It's money I have stolen!' says Willie, wi' -a face like a streikit corpse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Oh no, no,' cries the lass, 'it's his ain—his -an' mine!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if ever there was a lee markit doon in -shinin' gold in the book o' the Recordin' Angel -it was that yin. She was nae great beauty to -look at—a bit slip o' a fair-haired lass, wi' blue -een an' a ringlet or twa peepin' oot where ye -didna expect them. But she looked bonny -then—aye, as bonny as ever your Nance did.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Gie the pound notes back to the lass!' says -I, 'and syne you and me will gang doon and -speak with your maister that ye hae robbit!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And wi' that the lass fell doon at my feet -and grippit me, and fleeched on me, and kissed -my hands, and let the warm tears rin drap—drap -on my fingers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Oh dinna, dinna do that,' she cried, 'let him -pit them back. He only took them for a loan. -Let him pit them back this nicht when his maister -is awa hame for his tea. He is a hard man, -and Willie is a' I hae!'"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Weel," my mother would conclude, "may be -it wasna juist richt—but I couldna resist the lass. -So Willie did as she said, and naething was -kenned. But I garred him gie in his notice the -next day, and I took him hame, for it was clear -as day that the lad was deein' on his feet. And -I brocht the lass hame wi' me too. And if Willie -had leeved—but it wasna to be. We juist keepit -him till November. And the last nicht we sat -yin on ilka side o' the bed, her haudin' a hand -and me haudin' a hand, neither jealous o' the -ither, which was a great wonder. An' I think -he kind o' dovered an' sleepit—whiles wanderin' -in his mind and syne waukin' wi' a strange look -on his face. But ower in the sma' hours when -the wind begins to rise and blaw caulder, and -the souls o' men to slip awa, he started up. It -was me he saw first, for the candle was on -my side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Mither,' he said, 'where's Lizzie?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And when he saw her sit by him, he drew -away the hand that had been in mine and laid -it on hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Lizzie,' he said, 'dinna greet, my bonnie: I -promise! I will be your ain guid lad!'"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"And the lass?" I queried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, she gaed back to the shop, and they say -she has chairge o' a hale department noo, and is -muckle thocht on. But she has never mairried, -and, though we hae askit her every year, she -wad never come back to Drumquhat again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that," said my mother, smiling through -her tears, "is the story how my Willie was led -astray by the Lass in the Shop."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-respect-of-drowdle"><span class="bold large">THE RESPECT OF DROWDLE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Most folk in the West of Scotland know the -parish of Drowdle, at least by repute. It is a -great mining centre, and the inhabitants are not -counted among the peaceable of the earth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If ye want your head broken, gang doon to -Drowdle on a Saturday nicht" is an advice often -given to the boastful or the bumptious. Drowdle -is a new place too, and the inhabitants, instead -of being, like ordinary Scottish Geordies, settled -for generations in one coal-field and with whole -streets of relatives within stonethrow, are composed -of all the strags and restless ne'er-do-weels of such -as go down into the earth, from Cornwall even -to the Hill-o'-Beith.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Most, I say, know Drowdle by repute. I myself, -indeed, once acted as </span><em class="italics">locum tenens</em><span> for the -doctor there during six hot and lively summer -weeks, and gained an experience in the treatment -of contusions, discolorations, and abrasions of the -skull and frontal bones which has been of the -greatest possible use to me since. The younger -Drowdleites, however, had at that time a habit -of stretching a cord across the threshold about -a foot above the step, which interfered -considerably with professional dignity of exit—that -is, till you were used to it. But after one has -got into the habit of scouting ahead with a spatula -ground fine and tied to a walking-stick on darkish -nights, Drowdle began to respect you. Still -better if (as I did) you can catch a couple of -the cord-stretchers, produce an occipital contusion -or two on your own account, and finish by -kicking the jesters bodily into Drowdle Water. -Then the long rows of slated brick which -constitute the mining village agree that "the new -doakter kens his business—a smart lad, yon! -Heard ye what he did to thae twa deils, Jock -Lee an' Cockly Nixon? He catchit them -trippin' him wi' a cairt rape at Betty Forgan's -door, and, faith, he threw them baith into Drowdle -Water!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such being the way to earn the esteem of -Drowdle, it would have saved the telling of this -story if, when young Dairsie Gordon received a -call to be minister of the recently established -mission church there, he had had any one to -enlighten him on the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was so young that he was ashamed when -any one asked him his age. They had called him -"Joanna" at college, and sent him recipes along -the desk for compelling a beard and moustache -to grow under any conditions of soil and climate, -however unfavourable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dairsie Gordon was very innocent, very learned, -very ignorant, and—the only son of a well-to-do -mother, who from a child had destined him for the -ministry. The more was the pity!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As a child he was considered too delicate for -the rough-and-tumble of school. He had a tutor, -a mild-faced young man who seldom spoke above -his breath, and never willingly walked more than -a mile at a time, and then with a book in his hand -and a flute in his tail pocket. Under his instruction, -however, Dairsie became an excellent classic, and -his verse gained the approval of Professor Jupiter -Olympus when he went up to the University of -Edinburgh, where Latin verse was a rare accomplishment -in those days, and Greek ones as extinct -as the dodo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When her son went to college, Mrs. Gordon -came up herself from the country to settle Dairsie -in the house of a friend of her own, the widow -of a deceased minister who had married an old -maid late in life. This excellent lady possessed -much experience of bazaars and a good working -knowledge of tea-meetings, but she knew nothing -of young men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, being placed in authority over Dairsie, she -insisted that he should come straight back to Rose -Crescent from his classes, take dinner in the middle -of the day alone with his hostess, and then—as a -treat—accompany her while she made a call or -two on other clerical widows who had married -late in life. Then she took him home to open -his big lexicons and pore over crabbed -constructions till supper-time. This feast consisted -of plain bread and butter with the smallest morsel -of cheese, because much cheese is not good for -the digestion at night. A glass of milk -accompanied these delicacies. It also was plain and -blue, because the cream (a doubtful quantity at -best) had been skimmed off it for Mrs. McSkirmish's -tea in the morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After that Dairsie was sent to bed. He was -allowed ten minutes to take off his clothes and -say his prayers. Then the gas was turned out -at the meter. If he wanted time for more study -and reading he could have it in the morning. It -is good for youth to rise betimes and study the -Hebrew Scriptures with cold feet and fingers that -will not turn the leaves of Gesenius till they are -blown upon severally and individually. In this -fashion, varying in nothing, save that on alternate -Sundays there was something hot for supper, -because Mrs. McSkirmish's minister—a severe and -faithful divine—came to interview Dairsie and -report on his progress to his mother, the future -pastor passed seven winter sessions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scholastically his victories were many. Bursaries -seemed purposely created for him to take—and -immediately resign in favour of his </span><em class="italics">proxime accessit</em><span>, -who needed the money more. The class never -queried as to who would be first in the "exams.," -but only wrangled concerning who would come -next after Gordon—and how many marks below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In summer Dairsie went quietly down to his -mother's house in the country, where his neck was -fallen upon duly, and four handmaids (with little -else to do) worshipped him—especially when for the -first time he took the "Book" at family worship. -There was a wood before the door, in which he -passed most of his time lying on his back reading, -and his old tutor came to stay with him for a -month at a time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus was produced the Reverend Dairsie -Gordon, B.D., without doubt the first student -of his college, Allingham Fellow, and therefore -entitled to go to Germany for a couple of years -by the terms of his Fellowship.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But by one of these interpositions of Providence, -which even the most orthodox denominate -"doubtful," there was at this time a vacancy in -the pastoral charge of the small Mission Church -at Drowdle. The late minister had accepted a -call to a moorland congregation of sixty members, -where nothing had happened within the memory -of man, more stirring than the wheel coming off -a cart of peats opposite the manse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dairsie Gordon preached at Drowdle. His -voice was sweet and cultivated and musical, so -that it fell pleasantly on the ears of the kirkgoers -of Drowdle, over whose heads had long blared -a voice like to the trumpets at the opening of -the seventh seal in the book of the Revelation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they elected him unanimously. Also he -was "well-to-do," and it was understood in the -congregation that his salary would not be a -consideration. The minister elect immediately -resigned his fellowship, considering this a direct -call to the work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this fashion Dairsie Gordon went to his -martyrdom. Ignorant of the world as a child -of four, never having been elbowed and buffeted -and brow-beaten by circumstances, never cuffed -at school, snubbed at college, and so variously and -vicariously licked and kicked into shape, he found -himself suddenly pitchforked into the spiritual -charge of one of the most difficult congregations -in Scotland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The new minister was introduced socially at -a tea-meeting on the evening of the ordination, -and then and there he had his first taste of the -Drowdelian quality. There were plenty of douce -and sober folk in the front pews of the little -kirk, but at the back reckless, unmarried Geordies -were sandwiched between a militant and ungodly -hobbledehoyhood. Paper bags that had contained -fruit exploded in the midst of the most solemn -addresses. Dairsie's own remarks were fairly -punctuated with these explosions, and by the -flying shells of Brazil nuts. Bone buttons at the -end of knitting needles clicked and tapped at -windows, and a shutter fell inward with a crash. -It was thus that Dairsie returned thanks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear people," (a penny trumpet blew an -obligato accompaniment under the bookboard of -a pew,) "I have been led to the oversight of this -flock" (pom-pom-pom) "after prayer and under -guidance. I shall endeavour to teach -you—" ("Catch-the-Ten!" "All-Fours!" "Quoits!") "some -of those things which I have devoted my -life to acquiring. I am prepared for some little -difficulty at first, till we know one another——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The remainder of the address was inaudible -owing to cries of, "Rob Kinstry has stole my -bag!" "Ye're a liar!" All which presently -issued in the general turmoil of a free fight toward -the rear of the church.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Gordon had come up to be present on -the occasion of her son's ordination, and that -night in the little manse mother and son mingled -their tears. It all seemed so wrong and pitiful -to them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Dairsie, with a fine hopefulness on his -delicate face, lifted his head from his mother's -shoulder, smiling like a girl through his own -tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But after all, this is the work to which I have -been called, mother. And you know if it is His -will that I am to labour here, in time He will give -the increase."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So somewhat heartened, mother and son kneeled -down together, prayed, and went to bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the forenoon of the next day two of the -elders, decent pitmen, who happened to be on -the night-shift, called in to give their verdict and -to drop a word of advice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A graund meetin'," said Pate Tamson, the -oversman of No. 4; "what for didna ye tak' your -stick and gie some o' the vaigabonds a clour on -the lug? It wad hae served them weel!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I could not think of doing such a thing," said -Dairsie. "I desire to wield a spiritual, not a -carnal influence!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carnal influence here, carnal influence there," -cried Robin Naysmith, stamping his foot till the -little study trembled, "if ye are to succeed in -this village o' Drowdle, ye maun pit doon your -fit—like that, sir, like that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he stamped on the new Brussels carpet -till the plaster began to come down in flakes from -the ceiling. Dairsie tried to imagine himself -stamping like that, but could not. For one thing, he -had always worn single-soled shoes, with silk ties -and woollen 'soles' (which he had promised his -mother to take out and dry whenever he came -in), a fact which has more bearing on the main -question than appears on the surface.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A man has to assert hissel' in this toon, or he -is thocht little on," said Pate Tamson, the oversman. -"Noo, there's MacGrogan, the Irish priest—I dinna -agree wi' his releegion, an' dootless he will hae -verra little chance at the Judgment. But, faith, -when he hears that there's ony o' his fowk drinkin' -ower lang aboot Lucky Moat's, in he gangs wi' -a cudgel as thick as your airm, and the great -solemn curses, fair rowlin' aff the tongue o' -him—and faith, he clears Lucky's faster than a hale raft -of polissmen! Aye, he does that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye," assented the junior elder, Robin -Naysmith, he whose feet had put the plaster in -danger, "what we need i' Drowdle is a man o' -poo'er—a man o' wecht——!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'</span><em class="italics">Quit ye like men—be strong!</em><span>' saith the -Scriptures," summed up the oversman. Then -both of them waited for Dairsie, to see what he -had got to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I am sure I shall endeavour to do my -best," said the young minister, "but I fear I have -underestimated the difficulties of the position."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The oversman shook his head as he went out -through the manse gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I am some dootfu' that we hae made a mistak'!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If we hae," rejoined Naysmith, the strong -man, "we maun keep it frae the knowledge o' -Drowdle. But the lad is young—young. And -when he has served his 'prenticeship to sorrow, -he will maybes come oot o' the furnace as silver -that is tried!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Now, neither Drowdle nor its inhabitants meant -to be unkind. In case of illness or accident -among themselves, none gave material help more -liberally. What belonged to one was held in a -kindly communism to be the right of all. But -Drowdle was not to be handled delicately. It -was a nettle to be grasped with gloves of untanned -leather.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dairsie Gordon opened his first Sunday-school -at three in the afternoon. At a quarter to four -as he stood up on the platform to give his closing -address, he found boys scuttling and playing -"tig" between his legs. He laid down his -hymn-book, and on lifting it to read the closing verses, -discovered that a certain popular bacchanalian -collection entitled "Songs of the Red, White, and -Blue," had mysteriously taken its place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young minister had other and graver trials -also. The pitmen passed him on the road with -a surly grunt, and he did not know it was only -because they were trudging home dog-tired from -their long shift. The hard-driving managers and -sub-managers, men without illusions and as blatantly -practical as a Scottish daily paper, passed him -by contemptuously, as if he had been a tract thrust -under their doors. The schoolmaster, a cleverish -machine-made youth of inordinate conceit, openly -scoffed. He was a weakling, this minister, and -he had better know it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, indeed, in these days, Dairsie gave them -plenty of scope for complaint. His sermons might -possibly have edified a company of the unfallen -angels, if we can fancy such being interested in -heathen philosophy and the interpretation of the -more obscure Old Testament Scriptures. But to this -gritty, ungodly, crass-natured, rasp-surfaced village -of Drowdle, the young man merely babbled in his -pulpit as the summer brooks do over the pebbles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An itinerant evangelist, who shook the fear -of hell-fire under their noses with the fist of a -pugilist, and claimed in ancient style the power -to bind and the power to loose, might conceivably -have succeeded in Drowdle, but as it was, Dairsie -Gordon proved a failure of the most absolute sort. -And Drowdle, having no false modesty, told him -plainly of it. At informal meetings of Session -the question of their minister's shortcomings was -discussed with freedom and point, only the -overs-man and Robin Naysmith pleading suspension of -judgment on account of the young man's years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For there were sympathetic hearts here and -there among the folk of Drowdle. Women with -the maternal instinct yet untrampled out of them, -came to their doors to look after the tall slim -"laddie" who was so like the sons they had -dreamed of when the maiden's blush still tinged -their cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a bonnie laddie to look on," they said -to each other as, palm on hip, they stood looking -after him. "It's a peety that he is sae feckless!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet Dairsie was always busy. He was no -neglecter of duty. He worked with eager strained -hopefulness. No matter how deep had been his -depression of the evening, the morning found him -contemplating a day of work with keen anticipation -and unconquerable desire to succeed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To-day, at last, he would begin to make an -impression. He would visit the remainder of -Dickson's Row, and perhaps—who knew?—it -might be the turning of the tide. So he sat -down opposite his mother at breakfast, smiling -and rubbing his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-day I am going to show them, mother," -he would say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Show them what, Dairsie dear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">That I am a man!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But within him he was saying, "Work while -it is day!" And yet deeper in his heart, so deep -that it became almost a prayer for release, he -was wont to add—"</span><em class="italics">The night cometh when no -man can work!</em><span>" Then to this he added, as he -took his round soft hat and went out, "O Lord, -help me to do something worthy before I -die—something to make these people respect me."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was a hot September afternoon. Drowdle -was a-drowse from Capersknowe to the Back Raw. -Here and there could be heard a dull recurring -thud, which was the </span><em class="italics">dunt dunt</em><span> of the roller on -the dough of the bake-board as some housewife -languidly rolled out her farles of oatcake. For -the rest, there was no sound save the shout of -a callant fishing for minnows in the backwaters -of Drowdle, and the buzz of casual bluebottles -on the dirty window-panes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly there arose a cry, dominant and -far-reaching. No words were audible, but the tone -was enough. Women blenched and dropped the -crockery they were carrying. The men of the -night-shift, asleep on their backs in the hot and -close-curtained wall-beds, tumbled into their grimy -moleskins with a single movement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Number Four pit's a-fire! The pit's a-fire! -Number Fower!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a mile to the particular colliery where -the danger was. The rows of houses emptied -themselves simultaneously upon the white dusty -road, women running with men and barefooted -children speeding between, a little scared, but, -on the whole, rather enjoying the excitement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they came nearer, the great high-mounted -head-wheels of pit Number Four were spinning -furiously, and over the mounds which led to it -little ant-like figures were hurrying. A thin -far-spreading spume of brownish smoke rose sluggishly -from the pithead. At sight of it women cried out: -"Oh God, my Jock's doon there!" And more -than one set her hand suddenly upon her side and -swung away from the rush into the hedge-root.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A hundred questions were being fired at the -steadfast engineer, men and women all shouting -at once. He answered such as he could, but with -his hand ever upon the lever and his eye upon -the scale which told at what point the cage stood -in the long incline of the "dook."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fire's in the main pit-shaft," he said. -"They are trying to get doon by the second exit; -but it's half fu' o' steam pipes to drive the bottom -engine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wha's gane doon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pate Tamson and Muckle Greg are in the -cage tryin' to put the fire oot wi' the hose——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They micht as weel spit on't if it's gotten ony -catch!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Robin Naysmith and the minister are -tryin' the second exit——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">The minister——</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cry was very scornful. The minister, -indeed—what good could "a boy like him" do down -there where strong men were dying helplessly?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So for half-an-hour Walter McCartney the -pithead engineer stood at his post watching the -cage index, and listening for the tinkle of the -bell which signalled "up" or "down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the faces of such as could see the -numbers blanched. And a murmur ran round -the crowd at the long </span><em class="italics">t-r-r-r-r-r-r</em><span> which told that -the cage was coming to the surface.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had all hope been abandoned, that the rescue -party were returning so unexpectedly? A woman -shrieked suddenly on the edges of the crowd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's that?" queried the manager, turning -sharply. And when he was answered, "Take -her away—don't let her come near the shaft!" -was his order.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Out of the charred and dripping cage came -Pate Tamson and his mate, blackened and wet -from head to foot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The cage is to be sent empty to the -dook-bottom!" they said. "Somebody has managed -to get doon the second exit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a quick switch of levers and a humming -hiss of woven wire from the headwheels, down -sank the cage into the belching brown smother -of the deadly reek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then there was a long pause. The index sank -till it pointed to the pit-bottom. The cage had -passed through the fire safely. It had yet to be -proved that living men could also pass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Tinkle—tink!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the bell for lifting. Walter McCartney -compressed his lips on receiving the signal, and -pulled down the shiny cap over his forehead, as -if he himself were about to face that whirlwind -of fire six hundred feet down in the bowels of -the earth. He drew a long breath and opened -the lever for "Full Speed Up." The cage must -have passed the zone of flame like a bird rising -through a cloud. The folk silenced themselves as -it neared the surface. Then a great cry arose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The minister sat in the cage with a couple -of boys in his arms. The rough wet brattice -cloths that had been placed over them were charred -almost to a cinder. Dairsie Gordon's face was -burnt and blackened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He handed the boys out into careful hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am going down again," he said; "unless -I do the men will not believe that it is possible -to come alive through the fire. Are you ready, -Walter? Let her go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So a second time the young minister went -down through the furnace. Presently the men -began to be whisked up through the fire, and as -each relay arrived at the pit-bank they sang the -praises of Dairsie Gordon, telling with Homeric -zest how he had crawled half-roasted down the -narrow throat of the steam-pipe-filled shaft, how -he had argued with them that the fire could be -passed, and at last proved it with two boys for -volunteer passengers. Dairsie Gordon, B.D., was -the last man to leave the pit, and he fainted with -pain and excitement when all Drowdle cheered -him as they carried him home to his mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when at last he came to himself, swathed -in cotton wool to the eyes, he murmured, "</span><em class="italics">Do -you not think they will respect me now, mother?</em><span>"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="tadmor-in-the-wilderness"><span class="bold large">TADMOR IN THE WILDERNESS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The calm and solemn close of a stormy day—that -is the impression which the latter years of the life -of Bertram Erskine made on those who knew him -best. Though I was young at the time, I well -remember his solitary house of Barlochan, a small -laird's mansion to which he had added a tiny -study and a vast library, turning the whole into an -externally curious, but internally comfortable -conglomerate of architecture. The house stood near a -little green depression of the moorland, shaped like -the upturned palm of a hand. In the lowest part -was the "lochan" or lakelet from which the place -had its name, while the mansion with its -white-washed gables and many chimneys rose on the -brow above—and, facing south, overlooked well -nigh a score of parishes. There was also a garden, -half hidden behind a row of straggling poplars. -A solitary "John" tended it, who, in the time -of Mr. Erskine's predecessor, had doubled his -part of gardener with that of butler at the family's -evening meal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Few people in the neighbourhood knew much -about the "hermit of Barlochan." Yet he had -borne a great part in the politics of twenty years -before. He had been a minister of the Queen, a -keen and vehement debater, a dour political -fighter, as well as a man of some distinction in -letters; he had suddenly retired from all his offices -and emoluments without a day's warning. The -reason given was that he had quite suddenly lost -an only and much beloved daughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a few years he had bought, through an -Edinburgh lawyer, the little estate of Barlochan, -and it was reported that he meant to settle in the -district. Upon which ensued a clatter of masons -and slaters, joiners and plasterers, all sleeping in -stable-lofts, and keeping the scantily peopled -moorland parish in a turmoil with their midnight -predatory raids and madcap freaks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came waggon-load after waggon-load of -books—two men (no less) to look after them and -set them in their places on the shelves. After that, -the advent of a housekeeper and a couple of staid -maid-servants with strange English accents. Last -of all arrived Bertram Erskine himself, a tall figure -in grey, stepping out of a high gig at his own door, -and the establishment of an ex-minister of the -Crown was complete.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That is, with one exception—for John McWhan, -gardener to the ancient owners of Barlochan, -was digging in the garden when Mr. Erskine went -out on the first morning after his arrival.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-morning!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John looked up from his spade, put his hand -with the genuine Galloway reluctance to his -bonnet, and remarked, "I'm thinkin' we'll hae -a braw year for grosarts, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The new proprietor smiled, and as John said -afterwards, "</span><em class="italics">Then</em><span> I kenned I was a' richt!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are Mr. McCulloch's gardener?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Na, na, sir; I am your ain gardener, sir," -answered John McWhan promptly. "Coarnel -(Colonel) McCulloch pat everything intil my hand -on the day he gaed awa' to the wars—never to set -fit on guid Scots heather mair!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Erskine nodded quietly, like one who -accepts a legal obligation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have heard of you, John," he said. "I will -take you with the other pendicles of the estate. -You are satisfied with your former wages?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, sir, aye—a bonny-like thing that I should -hae been satisfied wi' thretty pound and a -cot-hoose for five-and-forty year, and begin to -compleen at this time o' the day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I am somewhat peculiar, John," said Mr. Erskine, -smiling. "I see little company: I desire -to see none at all. If you remain with me, you -must let nothing pass your lips regarding me or -my avocations."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ye'll find that John McWhan can haud his -tongue to the full as well as even a learned man -like yoursel', sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have an uncertain temper, John!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Faith, then ye hae gotten the verra man for -ye, sir," cried John, slapping his knee delightedly. -"Lord keep us, ye will be but as a bairn at the -schule to what Maister McCulloch was. I tell -ye, when the Coarnel's liver was warslin' wi' him, -it was as muckle as your life was worth to gang -within bowshot o' him. But yet he never hairmed -John. He miscaaed him—aya, he did that—till -the ill names cam' back oot o' the wood ower bye, -as if the wee green fairies were mockin' the sinfu' -angers o' man. But John never heeded. And in -a wee, the Coarnel wad be calm as a plate o' -parritch, and send me into the hoose for his muckle -pipe, saying, 'John, that has dune me guid, I think -I'll hae a smoke.' Na, na, ye may be as short -in the grain as ye like, but after Coarnel -McCulloch——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this point of his comparison John felt the -inadequacy of further words and could only -ejaculate, "Hoots awa, man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So in this fashion John McWhan stayed on as -"man" upon the policies of Barlochan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That night at dinner it was John who carried -in the soup tureen and deposited it before his -new master, a very much scandalised table-maid -following in the wake of the victor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hae brocht ye your kail, Maister Areskine," -he said, setting the large vessel down with a -flourish, "as I hae dune in this hoose for -five-and-forty year. This trimmie (though Guid forgie -me, I doubt na that she is a decent lass, for an -Englisher) may set the glesses and bring ben the -kickshaws, but the kail and the roast are John -McWhan's perquisite—as likewise the cleanin' -o' the silver. And I wad thank ye kindly, sir, to -let the hizzie ken your mind on that same!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With these words, John stood at attention with -his hands at his sides and his lips pursed, gazing -solemnly at his master. Mr. Erskine turned -round on his chair, his napkin in his hand. His -eyes encountered with astonishment a tall figure, -gaunt and angular, clad in an ancient livery coat -of tarnished blue and gold; knee breeches, black -stockings, and a pair of many-clouted buckled -shoes completed an attire which was certainly a -marvellous transformation from John's ordinary -labouring moleskins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a word quiet and sedate, Mr. Erskine -satisfied John's pride of place, and with another -(the latter accompanied with a certain humorous -twinkle of the eye) he soothed the ruffled Jane.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After that the days passed quietly and -uneventfully enough at Barlochan. Mr. Erskine's -habits were regular. He rose early, he read much, -he wrote more. The mail he received, the book -packets the carrier brought him, the huge sealed -letters he sent off, were the wonder of the -countryside—for a month or two. Then, save for the -carters who drove the coal from the town, or -brought in the firewood for Mr. Erskine's own -library fire (for there he burned wood only), and -the boxes of provisions ordered from Cairn -Edward by his prim housekeeper Mrs. Lambert, -Barlochan was silent and without apparent -distraction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the same there were living souls and busy -brains about it. The massive intellect of the -master worked at unknown problems in the -library. Busy Mrs. Lambert hurried hither and -thither contriving household comforts, and developing -the scanty resources of a moorland cusine to -their uttermost. Jane and Susan obeyed her beck, -while out in the garden John McWhan dug and -raked, pruned and planted, his hand never idle, -while his brain busied itself with his master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a michty queer thing he doesna gang to -the kirk," said John to himself, "a terrible queer -thing—him bein' itherwise sic a kindly weel-learned -gentleman. I heard some word he was eddicated -for the kirk himsel'. Oh, that we had amang us a -plant o' grace like worthy Master Hobbleshaw -doon at the Nine-Mile-Burn, that can whup the -guts oot o' a text as gleg and clever as cleanin' a -troot. Faith, I wad ask him to come wi' me to -oor bit kirk at Machermore, had we a man there -that could do mair than peep and mutter. I -wonder what we hae dune that we should be -afflicted wi' siccan a reed shaken wi' the wun' as -that feckless bit callant, Hughie Peebles. He -can preach nae mair than my cat Tib—and as for -unction——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here again John's words failed him under the -press of his own indignant comminations. He -could only drive the "graip" into the soil of the -Barlochan garden, with a foot whose vehemence -spoke eloquently of his inward heat. For the pulpit -of the little Dissenting kirk which John McWhan -supported by his scanty contributions (and abundant -criticisms), was occupied every Sabbath day by -that saddest of all labourers, a minister who has -not fulfilled his early promise, and of whom his -congregation desire to be rid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No but what we kind o' like the craitur, too," -John explained to his master, as he paused near -him in one of his frequent promenades in the -garden. "He has his points. He is a decent -lad, and wi' some sma' gift in intercessory prayer. -But he gangs frae door to door amang the fowk, -as if he were comin' like a beggar for an awmous -and were feared to daith o' the dog. Noo what the -fowk like is a man that walks wi' an air, that speaks -wi' authority, that stands up wi' some presence -in the pulpit, and gies oot the psalm as if he -war kind o' prood to read words that the guid -auld tune o' Kilmarnock wad presently carry to -the seeventh heevens!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And your minister, John, with whom you are -dissatisfied—how came you to choose him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Weel, sir," said the old man, palpably -distressed, "it was like this—ye see fowk are no -what they used to be, even in the kirk o' the -Marrow. In auld days they pickit a minister -for the doctrine and smeddom that was in him. -'Was he soond on the fundamentals?' 'Had -he a grip o' the fower Heads?' 'Was he faithfu' -in his monitions?' Thae were the questions they -askit. But nooadays they maun hae a laddie -fresh frae the college, that can leather aff a blatter -o' words like a bairn's lesson. I'm tellin' ye the -truth, sir—Sant Paul himsel', after he had had -the care o' a' the churches for a generation, wadna -hae half the chance o' a bare-faced, aipple-cheekit -loon in a black coatie and a dowg-collar. An' as -for Peter, he wad hae had juist nae chance ava. -He wad never hae gotten sae muckle as a smell -o' the short leet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how would Saint Peter have had no -chance? Wherein was his case worse than -Paul's?" said Mr. Erskine, smiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because he was a mairriet man, sir. It's a' -thae feckless weemen fowk, sir. A man o' -wecht and experience has little chance, though -he speak wi' the tongue o' men and o' angels—a -mairriet man has juist nae chance ava.' It's my -solemn opeenion that, when it comes to electin' -a new minister, only respectable unmairriet men -o' fifty years an' upwards should be allowed to -vote. It's the only thing that will stop thae -awfu' weemen frae ruling the kirk o' God. Talk -o' the Session—faith, it's no the Session that -bears rule ower us in things speeritual—na, na, -it's juist thae petticoated randies that got us -turned oot' o' Paradise at the first, and garred -me hae to grow your honour's veegetables in the -sweet o' my broo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why only unmarried men of over fifty?" -said Mr. Eskine, humouring his servitor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For this reason,"—John laid down the points -of his argument on the palm of one hand with -the crooked forefinger of the other, his foot -holding the "graip" steady in the furrow all -the while. "The young unmairriet men wad -be siccan fules as to do what the young lasses -wanted them to do, and the mairriet men o' a' -ages (as say the Scriptures) wad necessarily vote -as their wives bade them, for the sake o' peace -and to keep doon din!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, John," said Mr. Erskine, "I will go down -to the kirk with you next Sunday morning, and -see what I can advise. It is a pity that in this -small congregation and thinly-peopled district you -should be saddled with an unsuitable minister!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh, sir, but we wad be prood to see ye at -Machermore Marrow Kirk," cried John, dusting -his hands with sheer pleasure, as if he were about -to shake hands with his master on the spot. "I -only wish it had been Maister MacSwatter o' -Knockemdoon that was gaun to preach. He -fairly revels in Daniel and the Revelations. He -can gie ye a screed on the ten horns wi' faithfu' -unction, and mak' a maist affectin' application -frae the consideration o' the wee yin in the middle. -But oor Maister Peebles—he juist haes nae -'fushion' in him, ony mair than a winter-frosted -turnip in the month o' Aprile!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In accordance with his promise to his factotum, -on the following Sabbath morning, Mr. Erskine -walked down to the little Kirk of Machermore. -It was a fine harvest day and the folk had turned -out well, as is usually the case at that season of -the year. John McWhan was too old a servant -to dream of walking with his master to the kirk. -He had "mair mainners," as he would have said -himself. All the same, he had privately -communicated with several of the elders, and so -ensured Mr. Erskine a reception suited to his -dignity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ex-minister of State was received at the -little kirk door by Bogrie and Muirkitterick, -two tenants on a large neighbouring property. -These were the leading Marrow men in the -district, and much looked up to, as both coming -in their own gigs to the kirk. Bogrie it was who -opened the inner door for him, and Muirkitterick -conducted him to the seat of honour in the -mountain Zion, being the manse pew, immediately -to the right of the pulpit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not for some time that Mr. Erskine -perceived that he did not sit alone. Being a -little short-sighted until he got his glasses -adjusted, the faces of any audience or congregation -were always a blur to him. Then all at once -he noticed a slim girlish figure in a black dress -almost shrinking from observation in the opposite -corner. The service began immediately after he -sat down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The minister was tall, of good appearance and -presence, but Mr. Erskine shuddered at the first -grating notes of the clerical falsetto, which -Mr. Peebles had adopted solely because it had been -the fashion at college in his time; but it was -not until the short prayer before the sermon that -anything occurred to fix the politician's wandering -attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, as he bent forward, he heard a voice near -him saying, in an intense inward whisper: "</span><em class="italics">O -God, help my Hughie!</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He glanced about him in astonishment. It -was the girl in the black dress. She had knelt -in the English fashion when all the rest of the -congregation were merely bending forward "on -their hunkers," or, as in the case of not a few -ancient standards of the Faith, standing erect and -protestant against all weak-hammed defection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the girl arose again Mr. Erskine saw that -her lips were trembling and that she gazed -wistfully about at the set and severe faces of the -congregation. The minister began his sermon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not in any sense a good discourse. -Rather, with the best will in the world, the hearer -found it feeble, flaccid, unenlivened by illustration, -unfirmed by doctrine, unclinched by application. -Yet all the time Mr. Erskine was saying to -himself: "What a fool that young man is! He has -a good voice and presence—how easily he might -study good models, and make a very excellent -appearance. It cannot be so difficult to please -a few score country farmers and ditchers!" But -he ended with his usual Gallio-like reflection that -"After all, it is none of my business;" and so -forthwith removed his mind from the vapidity -of the discourse, to a subject connected with his -own immediate work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But as he issued out of the little kirk, he passed -quite close to the vestry door. The girl who had -sat in the pew beside him was coming out with the -minister. He could not help hearing her words, -apparently spoken in answer to a question: "It -was just beautiful, Hughie; you never preached -better in your life." And in the shadow of the -porch, before they turned the corner, Mr. Erskine -was morally certain that the young minister gave -the girl's arm an impulsive little hug.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But his own heart was heavy, for as he walked -away there came a thought into his heart. A -resemblance that had been haunting him suddenly -flashed up vividly upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If Marjorie had lived she would have been -about that girl's age—and like her, too, pale and -slim and dark."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So all the way to his lonely mansion of Barlochan -the ex-minister of the Crown thought of the -young girl who had faded from his side, just as -she was becoming a companion for the man who, -for her sake, had put his career behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the afternoon Mr. Erskine sat in the arbour, -while John in his Sunday best tried to -compromise with his conscience as to how much -gardening could be made to come under the -catechistic heading, "Works of Necessity and -Mercy." He solved this by watering freely, -training and binding up sparingly, pruning in a -furtive and shamefaced manner (when nobody -was looking), but strictly abstaining from the -opener iniquities of weeding, digging, or knocking -in nails with hammers. In the latter emergency -John kept for Sunday use the ironshod heel of -an old boot, and in no case did he ever so far -forget himself as to whistle. On that point he -was adamant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last, after hovering nearer and nearer, he -paused before the arbour and addressed his master -directly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Thon</em><span> juist settles it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Erskine slowly put down his book, still, -however, marking the place with his finger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not understand—what do you mean by </span><em class="italics">thon</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The sermon we had the day, sir. It was -fair affrontin'. The Session are gaun up to ask -Maister Peebles to consider his resignation. The -thing had neither beginning o' days nor end o' -years. It was withoot form and void. It's a -kind o' peety, too, for the laddie, wi' that young -Englishy wife that he has ta'en, on his hand. -I'm feared she is no the kind that will ever help -to fill his meal-ark!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am very sorry to hear you say so, John," said -Mr. Erskine; "can nothing be done, think you? -Why don't they give the young man another -chance? Can no one speak to him? There were -some things about the service that I liked very -much. Indeed, I found myself feeling at home -in a church for the first time for years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did ye, sir? That's past a' thinkin'! A' -Machermore was juist mournin' and lamentin'. -What micht the points be that ye liket? I will -tell the elders. It micht do some guid to the -puir lad!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Erskine was a little taken aback. He -could not say that what pleased him most in the -service had sat in the manse-seat beside him, -had worn a plain black dress, and possessed a -pair of eyes that reminded him of a certain young -girl who had taken walks with him over the -hills of Surrey, when the blackbirds were singing -in the spring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, he managed to convey to John -a satisfaction and a hopefulness that were all the -more helpful for being a little vague. To which -he added a practical word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you think it would do any good, John, I -might see one or two of the members of Session -themselves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ye needna trouble yoursel', thank ye kindly, -sir," said John, "I will undertak' the job. Though -my infirmity at orra times keeps me frae acceptin' -the eldership (I hae been twice eleckit), I may -say that John McWhan's influence in the testifyin' -and Covenant-keeping Kirk o' the Marrow at -the Cross-roads o' Machermore has to be reckoned -wi'—aye, it has to be reckoned wi'!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Nevertheless, the agitation for a change of -ministry continued to increase rather than to -diminish. It took the form of a petition to the -Rev. Hugh Peebles to consider the spiritual needs -of the congregation and forthwith to remove -himself to another sphere of labour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, John McWhan's Zion was not one of the -greater and richer denominations into which -Presbytery in Scotland is unhappily divided. It -was but a small and poor "body" of the faithful, -and such changes of ministry as that proposed -were frequent enough. The operative cause might -be inability to pay the minister's "steepend" if -it happened to be a bad year. Or, otherwise, and -more frequently, a "split"—a psalm tune misplaced, -an overplus of fervour in prayer for the Royal -Family (a very deadly sin), or a laxity in dealing -with a case of discipline—and, lo! the minister -trudged down the glen with his goods before him in -a red cart, to fight his battle over again in another -glen, and among a people every whit as difficult -and touchy. But one day there was an intimation -read out in the Machermore Kirk of the Marrow -to the following effect: "The Annual Sermon -of the Stewartry Branch of the British and Foreign -Bible Society will be preached in the Townhill -Kirk at Cairn Edward, on Sabbath next, at 6 p.m., -by the Rev. Hugh Peebles of the Marrow Kirk, -Machermore."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Peebles read this through falteringly, as -if it concerned some one else, and then added -a doubtful conclusion: "In consequence of this -honour which has been done me, I know not why, -there will be no service here on the evening of -next Lord's Day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was observed by the acute that Mrs. Peebles -put her face into her hands very quickly as her -husband finished reading the intimations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Praying for him, was she?" said the Marrow -folk, grimly, as they went homeward; "aye, an' -she had muckle need!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To say that the congregation of Machermore -was dumfounded is wholly to underestimate the -state of their feelings. They were aghast. For -the occasion was a most notable one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the wale of the half-dozen central Galloway -parishes, which were canvassed as one district by -the agents of the Bible Society, would be -there—the professional sermon-tasters of twenty -congregations. At least a dozen ministers of all -denominations (except the Episcopalian) would -be seated in an awe-inspiring quadrilateral about -the square elders' pew. The Townhill Kirk, the -largest in Galloway, would be packed from floor -to ceiling, and the sermon, published at length -in the local paper, would be discussed in all its -bearings at kirk-door and market-ring for at least -a month to come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And all these things must be faced by their -"reed shaken with the wind," their feckless shadow -of a minister, weak in doctrine, ineffective in -application, utterly futile in reproof. Hughie -Peebles, and he alone, must represent the high -ancient liberties of the Marrow Kirk before Free -Kirk Pharisee and Erastian Sadducee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Considering these things, Machermore hung -its head, and the wailing of its eldership was -heard afar. Only John McWhan, as he had -promised, kept his counsel, and went about with -a shrewd twinkle in his eye. He continued to -bring in the soup at Barlochan—indeed, he now -waited all through dinner, and, though there was -nothing said that he could definitely take hold -upon, John had a shrewd suspicion that it was not -for nothing that the young minister had been -closeted with his master for two or three hours, six -days a week, for the last month. But though it -went sorely to his heart that he could not even -bid Machermore and the folk thereof—"Wait till -next Sabbath at six o'clock, an' ye'll maybes hear -something!" he loyally refrained himself.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At last the hour came and the man. Mr. Erskine, -having ordered a carriage from the town, -drove the minister and his wife down to Cairn -Edward in style. John McWhan held the reins, -the urban "coachman" sitting, a silent and -indignant hireling, on the lower place by his side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the front seat within sat Mr. Peebles, very -pale, and with his hands gripping each other -nervously. But when he looked across at the -calm face of Mr. Erskine, a sigh of relief broke -from him. The Townhill Kirk was densely -crowded. There was that kind of breathing hush -over all, which one only hears in a country kirk -on a very solemn occasion. Places had been kept -for young Mrs. Peebles and Mr. Erskine in the -pew of honour near the elders' seat, but the -ex-minister of State, after accompanying -Mrs. Peebles to her destination, went and sat -immediately in front of the pulpit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wondrous weel the laddie looks," said one -of the judges as Hugh Peebles came in, boyish -in his plain black coat, "though they say he is -but a puir craitur for a' that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Appearances are deceitful—beauty is vain!" -agreed her neighbour, in the same unimpassioned -whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was nothing remarkable about the -"preliminaries," as the service of praise and prayer -was somewhat slightingly denominated by these -impatient sermon-lovers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Sap, but nae fushion!</em><span>" summed up Mistress -Elspeth Milligan, the chief of these, after the -first prayer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The preliminaries being out of the way, the -great congregation luxuriously settled itself down -to listen to the sermon. Machermore, which -had hidden itself bodily in a remote corner -of one of the galleries, began to perspire with -sheer fright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They'll throw the psalm-buiks at him, I wadna -wunner—siccan grand preachers as they hae doon -here in Cairn Edward!" whispered the ruling -elder to a friend. He had sneaked in after all -the others, and was now sitting on one of the -steps of the laft. It was John McWhan who -occupied the corner seat beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe aye, an' maybe no!" returned John, -drily, keeping his eye on the pulpit. The hush -deepened as Hugh Peebles gave out his text.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">And he built Tadmor in the Wilderness.</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whereupon ensued a mighty rustling of turned -leaves, as the folk in the "airy" and the three -"galleries" pursued the strange text to its lair -in the second book of Chronicles. It sounded like -the blowing of a sudden gust of wind through -the entire kirk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came the final stir of settling to attention -point, and the first words of Hugh Peebles' sermon. -Machermore, elder and kirk-member, adherent and -communicant, young and old, bond and free, -crouched deeper in their recesses. Some of the -more bashful pulled up the collars of their coats -and searched their Bibles as if they had not yet -found the text. The seniors put on their glasses -and stared hard at the minister as if they had -never seen him before. They did not wish it -to appear that he belonged to them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when the first notes of the preacher's voice -fell on their astonished ears, it is recorded that -some of the more impulsive stood up on their feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was never their despised minister, Hughie -Peebles. The strong yet restrained diction, the -firmness of speech, the resonance of voice in -the deeper notes—all were strange, yet somehow -curiously familiar. They had heard them all -before, but never without that terrible alloy of -weakness, and the addition of a falsetto -something that made the preacher's words empty -and valueless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the sermon—well, there never had been -anything like it heard in the Ten Parishes before. -There was, first of all, that great passage where -the preacher pictured the Wise King sending out -his builders and carpenters, his architects and -cunning workmen—those very men who had -caused the Temple to rise on Moriah and set up -the mysterious twin pillars thereof—to build in -that great and terrible wilderness a city like to -none the world had ever seen. There was his -gradual opening up of the text, and applying -it to the sending of the Word of God to the -heathen who dwelt afar off—without God and -without hope in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came the searching personal appeal, which -showed to each clearly that in his own heart -there were wilderness tracts—as barren, as deadly, -as apparently hopeless as the ground whereon -Solomon set up his wonder-city—Tadmor, -Palmyra, the city of temples and palaces and -palm-trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And above all, the preacher's application was -long remembered, his gradual uprising from the -picture of the earthly king, "golden-robed in -that abyss of blue," to the Great King of all -the worlds—"He who can make the wilderness, -whether that of the heathen in distant lands and -far isles of the sea, or that other more difficult, -the wilderness in our own breasts, to blossom as -the rose!" These things will never be forgotten -by any in that congregation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once only Hugh Peebles faltered. It was but -for a moment. He gasped and glanced down to -the first seat in the front of the church. Then in -another moment he had gripped himself and -resumed his argument. Some there were who -said that he did this for effect, to show emotion, -but there were two men in that congregation who -knew better—the preacher and Mr. Erskine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All Machermore went home treading on the -viewless air. They hardly talked to each other -for sheer joy and astonishment. "Dinna look -as if we were surprised, lads! Let on that we -get the like o' that every day in oor kirk!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was John McWhan's word, which passed -from lip to lip. And Machermore and the Marrow -Kirk thereof became almost insufferably puffed up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll no say a word mair," said the ruling elder, -"gin he never preaches anither decent word till -the day o' his death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was, indeed, the general sense of the -congregation. But Hugh Peebles, though perhaps he -never reached the same pinnacle of fame, certainly -preached much better than of old. With his -wonderful success, too, he had gained a certain -confidence in himself; added to which he was -almost as often at Barlochan as before the -missionary sermon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His wife came with him sometimes in the -evenings to dinner, and then Mr. Erskine's eyes -would dwell on her with a kind of gladness. For -now she had a colour in her cheek and a proud -look on her face, which had not been there on the -day when he had first heard her pray: "O God, -help my Hughie!" in the square manse pew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>God had indeed helped Hughie—as He mostly -does, through human agency. And Mr. Erskine -was happier too. He had found an object in life, -and, on the whole, his pupil did him great credit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He also inserted a clause in his will, which -ensures that Hugh and his wife shall not be -dependent in their old age upon the goodwill of -a faithful but scanty flock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as for Hugh Peebles, probable plagiarist, he -writes his own sermons now, though he always -submits them before preaching to his wise friend -up at Barlochan. But it is for his first success -that he is always asked when he goes from home. -There is a never-failing postscript to any -invitation from a clerical brother upon a sacramental -occasion: "The congregation will be dreadfully -disappointed if you do not give us 'Tadmor in -the Wilderness.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Hugh Peebles never disappoints them.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="peterson-s-patient"><span class="bold large">PETERSON'S PATIENT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When I go out on the round of a morning I -generally take John with me. John is my "man," -and of course it is etiquette that he should drive -me to my patients' houses. But sometimes I tell -him to put in old Black Bess for a long -round-about journey, and then, in that case, I can -drive myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Black Bess is a real country doctor's horse. -She will stand at a loaning foot with the reins -hitched over a post—that is, if you give her a -yard or so of head liberty, so that she may solace -herself with the grass and clover tufts on the -bank. Even without any grass at all, she will -stand by a peat-stack in as profound a meditation -as if she were responsible for the diagnosis of -the case within. I honestly believe Bess is more -than half a cow, and chews the cud on the sly. -So whenever I feel a trifle lazy, I take the outer -round and Black Bess, leaving the town and -what the ambitious might call its "suburbs" to -Dr. Peterson, my assistant. Not that this helps -me much in the long run, because I have to -keep track of what is going on in Peterson's head -and revise his treatment. For, though his zeal -and knowledge are always to be counted on, -Peterson is apt to be lacking in a certain tact which -the young practitioner only acquires by experience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For instance, to take the important matter of -diagnosis, Peterson used to think nothing of -standing silent five or ten minutes making up his mind -what was the matter with a patient. I once told -him about this.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," he replied, with, I must say, some -slight disrespect for his senior, "you often do -that yourself. You said this very morning that -it took you twenty minutes to make up your -mind whether to treat Job Sampson's wife for -scarlet fever or for diphtheria!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," I retorted, "I told you so, but I didn't -stand agape all the time I was thinking it out. -I took the temperature of the woman's armpits, -and the back of her neck, and between her toes. -I asked her about her breakfast, and her dinner, -and her supper of the day before. Then I took -a turn at her sleeping powers, and whether she -had been eating too many vegetables lately. I -inquired if she had had the measles, and the -whooping-cough, and how often she had been -vaccinated. I was just going to begin on her -father, mother, and collateral relatives in order -to trace hereditary tendencies, when I made up -my mind that it would be safest to treat the -woman for scarlet fever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Peterson, drily, "Job was praising -you up to the skies this very day. 'There never -was sic a careful doctor,' he swears; 'there wasna -a blessed thing that he didna speer into, even -unto the third and fourth generation.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, you hear, Peterson," I said, with sober -triumph, "that is the first step in your profession. -You must create confidence. Never let them -think for a moment you don't know everything. -Why, old Ned Harper sent for me to-day—said -you didn't understand the case, because you -declined to prescribe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is malingering," cried Peterson, hotly; -"he only wants to draw full pay out of his two -benefit societies. The man is a fraud, open and -patent. I wouldn't have anything to do with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Peterson," I said, very seriously, "once -for all, this is my practice, 'not yours. You are -my salaried assistant. That is what you have -to attend to. You are not revising auditor of -the local benefit societies. If you do as you did -with old Harper a time or two, you will lose me -my appointment as Society's doctor, and not -that one appointment alone. They all follow each -other like a flock of sheep jumping through a -slap in a dyke. Besides, the Benefit Society -officials don't thank you, not a bit! They expect -Harper to do as much for them the next time -they feel like taking a holiday between the sheets!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What would you do then?" cried this furious -young apostle of righteousness. "You surely -would not have me become art and part in a -swindle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I patted him on the shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Temper your zeal with discretion, my friend," -I said. "I have found a rising blister between -the shoulder-blades very efficacious in such cases."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet my immaculate assistant, had he only -known it, was to go further and fare worse.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Meanwhile to pass the time I told him the -story of old Maxwell Bone. Peterson was clearly -getting restive, and it is not good for young men -of the medical profession to think that they know -everything at five-and-twenty. Maxwell was an -aged hedger-and-ditcher, who lived in a tumble-down -cottage at the upper end of Whinnyliggate. -Of that parish I was (and still am) parish doctor, -and Maxwell being in receipt of half-a-crown a -week as parochial supplement to his scanty earnings, -I was, </span><em class="italics">ipso facto</em><span>, responsible for Maxwell's -state of health, and compelled in terms of my -contract to obey any reasonable summons I might -receive from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Upon several occasions I had prescribed for -the old ruffian, chiefly for rheumatism and the -various internal pains and weaknesses affected -by ancient paupers. When I was going away -on one occasion Maxwell asked me for an order -on the Inspector of Poor for a bottle of brandy -"for outward application only." I refused him -promptly, telling him with truth that he was far -better without it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Weel, doctor," he said, shaking his head, -"dootless ye ken best. But there's nocht like -brandy when thae stammack pains come on me. -It micht save ye a lang journey some cauld snawy -nicht. The guard o' the late train will tak' doon -ony message frae the junction, and if I dinna get -the brandy to hae at hand to rub my legs wi' ye -micht hae a lang road to travel! But gin ye -let me hae it, doctor, it micht save ye a heap o' -trouble——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The old wretch!" cried Peterson. "Of course -you did not let him have it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peterson," I replied, sententiously, "I decline -to answer you. Wait till you have been a winter -here and know what a thirty-mile drive in a -raging snowstorm to the head-end of the parish of -Whinnyliggate means. Then you will not have -much doubt whether Maxwell got his brandy or not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now Peterson was really a very excellent fellow, -and when he had run his head against the requisite -number of stone walls, and learned to bite hard on -his tongue when tempted to over-hasty speech, he -made a capital assistant. I shall be sorry to lose -him when the time comes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For one thing Nance is fond of him, especially -since he fell in love, and that goes for a great deal -in our house. Peterson performed the latter feat -quite suddenly and unexpectedly, as he did -everything. It happened thuswise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had had a hard winter, and Nance was -needing a change, so, about Easter, I took her -south, for a few weeks in the mild and recuperative -air of the Regent Street bonnet shops. I have -noted more than once that in Nance's case the -jewellers' windows along Bond Street possess tonic -qualities, quite unconnected with going inside to -buy anything, as also the dark windows of certain -merchant tailors in which the patient can see her -new dress and hat reflected as in a mirror. As for -me, I enjoyed the British Medical Club and the -Scientific Museums—which, of course, was what I -came for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when we went back home we found that -Peterson's daily report of cases had not conveyed -all the truth. Peterson himself was changed. So -far as I could gather, he seemed to have done his -work very well and to have given complete -satisfaction. He had even added the names of -several new patients to my list. One of these -was that of a somewhat large proprietor in a -neighbouring parish, who was said to be exceedingly -eccentric, but of whom I knew nothing save by the -vaguest report.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you get hold of old Bliss Bulliston?" -I asked my assistant, as I glanced over the list -he handed me. We were sitting smoking in the -study while Nance was unpacking upstairs and -spreading her new things on the bed, amid the -rapturous sighs and devotionally clasped hands of -Betty Sim, our housemaid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peterson turned away towards the mantelpiece -for another spill. He appeared to have a difficulty -with his pipe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I don't exactly know," he said at last, -when the problem was solved; "it just came about -somehow. You know how these things happen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They generally happen in our profession by -the patient sending for the physician," I remarked, -drily. "I hope you have not been poaching on -anyone else's preserves, Peterson. Did Bulliston -send for you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peterson stooped for a coal to light his pipe. -It had gone out again. Perhaps it was the exertion -that reddened his handsome face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he said, slowly, "he did not send for -me. I went of my own accord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I started from my seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, man," I cried, "you'll get me struck -off the register, not to speak of yourself. You -don't mean to say that you went to the house -touting for custom?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now don't get excited," he said, smoking -calmly, "and I'll tell you all about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I became at once violently calm. Nevertheless, -in spite of this, it took some time to get him -under way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," he said at last, "Bulliston has got a -daughter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said I, "so you were called in to attend -on Mrs. Bulliston."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I say he has a daughter, I mean a -grown-up daughter, not an infant!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peterson seemed quite unaccountably ruffled -by my innocent remark. I thought of pointing -out to him the advantages of habitual clearness of -speech, but, on the whole, decided to let him tell his -story, for I was really very anxious about Bulliston.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," I said soothingly, "did Miss Bulliston -call you in?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It might be looked at that way," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What was the case?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A nest of peregrine's eggs near the top of -Carslaw Craig."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peterson!" I exclaimed, somewhat sternly, -"don't forget that I am talking to you seriously!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he continued smoking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am perfectly serious," he said, and stopped. -After he had thought a while he continued: "It -happened at the end of the first week you were -away. I had left John at home. I had old Black -Bess with me—you know she will stand anywhere. -I took the long round, and was coming home a -little tired. As I drove past the end of Carslaw -Hill, happening to look up I saw something -sticking to the sheer face of the cliff like a fly -on a wall. At first I could not believe my eyes, -for when I came nearer I saw it was a girl. -She seemed to be calling for help. So of course -I jumped down and tied old Bess to a post by -the roadside. Then I began to climb up towards -her, but I soon saw that I could not help the -girl that way—to do her any good, that is. So -I shouted to her to hold on and I would get at -her over the top.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I ran up an easier place, where the hill slopes -away to the left, and came down opposite where -the girl was. She had got to within ten feet of -the top, but could not get a bit higher to save -her life. It looked almost impossible, but luckily, -right on top there was a hazel-bush, and I caught -hold of the lower boughs—three or four of -them—and lowered my legs down over the edge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Catch hold of my ankles,' I shouted, 'and -I'll pull you up.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Can't; they're too thick!' the girl cried; and -from that I judged she must be a pretty cool one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Then catch hold of one of them in both -hands!' I shouted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Right!' she said, and gripped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it was as well that she did not take my -first offer, for, as it turned out, I had all I could -do to get her up, jamming the toe of my other -boot in the crevices and barking my knee against -the hazel roots. Still, I managed it finally."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whereupon she promptly fainted away in -your arms," I interjected, "and you recovered her -with some smelling-salts and sal volatile you -happened to have brought in your tail-coat pockets -in view of such emergencies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all," said Peterson, quite unabashed; -"she didn't faint—never thought of such a thing. -Instead, she got behind the hazel-bush I had been -hanging on to.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Stop where you are a moment,' she spluttered; -'till I get rid of these horrid eggs. Then I'll -talk to you.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tears of beauty!" I cried; "emotion hidden -behind a hazel-bush. 'Alfred, you have saved -my life—accept my hand.' That was what she -really said to you—you know it was, Peterson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not much," said Peterson. "She was back -again in a trice, and, if you'll believe me, started -in to give it me hot and strong for smashing her -blissful birds' eggs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Here I've been watching this peregrine for -weeks, and I'd got two beauties, and just because -I got stuck a bit on the cliff you must come -along and jolt me so that I have broken both -of them—one was in my mouth, and the other -I had tied up in a handkerchief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I told the girl that I knew where I could -get her another pair and also a rough-legged -buzzard's nest, and that did a lot to comfort her. -She was a pretty girl, though I don't believe she had -ever given it a thought; and she was dead on to -getting enough birds' eggs to beat her brother, -who had said that a girl could never get as good -a collection as a boy, because of her petticoats!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And where are you going to get those eggs?" -I said to Paterson. "If you think that hunting -falcons' eggs for roving schoolgirls comes within -your duties as my assistant—well, I shall have -to explicate your responsibilities to you, that's -all, young man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peterson laid his finger lightly on his cheek, -not far from the bridge of his nose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know old Davie Slimmon, the keeper -up at the lodge? You remember I doctored -his foot when he got it bitten with an adder. -Well, anyway, he would do anything for me. I've -had Davie on the egg-hunt ever since."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the girl thinks you are getting them all -yourself," I said, with some severity. "Peterson, -this is both unbecoming and unscientific. More -than that, you are a blackguard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said Peterson, lightly, "it's all right. I -go regularly to see the old boy. He is a patient -properly on the books, and when all is over, you -can charge him a swingeing fee. Well, to begin -at the beginning, each time I saw the girl I took -her all the eggs I could pick up in the interval. -I got them properly blown and labelled—particulars, -habitat, how many in the clutch, whether -the nest was oriented due east and west, whether -made of sticks or weeds or curl-papers, the size -of the shell in fractions of a millimetre——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peterson," I said, sternly, "I don't believe you -have the remotest idea what a millimetre is!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No more I have," answered Peterson, stoutly, -not in the least put out; "but then, no more -has she. And it looks well—thundering well!" -he added, after a ruminant consideration of the -visionary labelled egg. "You've no idea what -a finish these tickets give to the collection."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So this was Miss Bulliston," I said, to bring -him back to the point in which I was most -immediately interested. "That's all very well, -but what was the matter with old Bliss, her -father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peterson looked as if he would have winked -if he had dared, but the sternness in my eye -checked him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something nervous," he said, gazing at me -blankly. "Truda kept stirring him up till the -poor old boy nearly fretted himself into a fever, -and so had me sent for. Oh, I was properly enough -called in. You needn't look like that, McQuhirr. -You've no gratitude for my getting you a good -paying patient. I tell you the old man was so -frightened that Truda——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It had got to 'Truda,' had it?" I interjected, -bitterly. But Peterson took no notice, going -composedly on with his story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"... Truda ran all the way to the lodge gates, -where I was waiting with two kestrels' and a -marsh-harrier, unblown, but all done up in cotton -wool."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What!" I cried, "the birds?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, the eggs, of course," said Peterson; "and -she said: 'What have you got there?' So I told -her two kestrels' and a marsh-harrier. Then she -said: 'Is that all? I thought you would have got -that kite's you promised me by this time. But -come along and cure my father of the cholera, and -the measles, and the distemper, and the spavin! -He's got them all this morning, besides several -other things I've forgot the names of. Come -quick! Cousin Jem from London is with him. -He'll frighten him worse than anybody. I'll take -you up through the shrubbery. Give me your hand!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So she took my hand, and we ran up together -to the house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peterson," I said, "you and I have a monthly -engagement. On this day month I shall have no -further occasion for your services. Suppose -anyone had seen you! What would they have -thought of Dr. McQuhirr's assistant?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never gave it a thought," he said, waving -the interruption away; "and anyway, if all tales -are true, you did a good deal of light skirmishing -up about Nether Neuk in your own day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now this was a most uncalled-for remark, and -I answered: "That may be true or not, as the -case may be. But, at all events, I was no one's -</span><em class="italics">locum tenens</em><span> at that time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," he said, "it's no use making a fuss now, -McQuhirr. Nobody saw us, and as soon as we -got to the open part near the house, Truda said: -'Now I'm going to get these eggs fixed into their -cases. So you trot round and physic up the old -man. And mind and ask to see his collection -of dog-whips. It is the finest in the world. We -all collect something here. Pa is crazy about -dog-whips. And if you can't find anything else -wrong with him, tell him that his corns want -cutting. They always do!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'But I haven't a knife with me,' I objected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I'll lend you a ripper.' (Truda had an answer -ready every time.) 'I keep it edged like a razor. -It is a cobbler's leather knife. It will make the -shavings fly off dad's old corns, I tell you!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'But I never pared a corn in my life,' I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Then you've jolly well got to now, my friend,' -she said, 'for I've yarned it to him that his life -may depend on it, and that only a trained surgeon -can operate on his sort. So don't you give me -away, or he may let you have the contents of a -shot-gun as you go out through the front window. -And what will happen to me, I don't know. Now -go on!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And with that she vanished in the direction -of the stables."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A most lively young lady!" I cried, with -enthusiasm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Um-m," grunted Peterson (I have often had -cause to remark Peterson's gruffness). "Lively, -you think? Well, she nearly got me into a pretty -mess with her liveliness. The butler put me into -a waiting-room out of the hall. It was all sparred -round with fishing-rods, and had crossed trophies -of dog-whips festooned about the walls. I waited -here for a quarter of an hour, listening to the -rumbling bark of an angry voice in the distance, -and wondering what the mischief Truda had let -me in for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Presently the girl came round to the open -window, and as the sill was a bit high she gave -a sort of sidelong jump and sat perched on the -ledge outside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'You are a great donkey,' she said, looking -in at me; 'both the kestrels' are set as hard as -a rock—here, take them!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And with that she threw the eggs in at me -one after another through the open sash of the -window. One took me right on the pin of my -tie and dripped on to my waistcoat. Smell? Well, -rather! Just then the old butler came in, looking -like a field-marshal and archbishop rolled in one, -and there was I rubbing the abominable yolk from -my waistcoat. Truda had dropped off the window-sill -like a bird, and the old fellow looked round -the room very suspiciously. I think he thought I -must have been pocketing the spoons or something.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Mr. Bliss Bulliston waits!' he said, as if he -were taking me into the presence-chamber of -royalty. And so he was, by George! I was -shown into a large library-looking room where -two men were sitting. One was a little Skye-terrier -of a man, with bristly grey hair that stood -out everyway about his head. He was lying in -a long chair, half reclining, a rug over his knees -though the day was warm. The other man sat -apart in the window, a quiet fellow to all -appearance, bald-headed, and rather tired-looking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'You are the doctor from Cairn Edward my -daughter has been pestering me to see,' snapped -the elder man. 'My case is a very difficult and -complicated one, and quite beyond the reach of -an average local practitioner, but I understand -from my daughter that you have very special -qualifications.' Whereupon I bowed, and said that -I was your assistant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good heavens!" I cried. "Peterson, had you -no sense? Why on earth did you bring my name -into the affair? I shall never get over it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," he answered, lightly; "wait a bit. I -cleared you sufficiently in the end. Just listen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was in a tight place, you will admit, but I -thought it was best to put on my most impressive -manner, and after a look or two at the old fellow, -I resolved to treat him for nervous exhaustion. -It was a dead fluke, but I had been reading -Webb-Playfair's article on Neurasthenia just before -I went out, and though men don't often have -it, I thought it would do as well for old Bulliston -as anything else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I yarned away to him about his condition -and symptoms, emaciated physical state, and so -forth. Well, when I was getting pretty well warmed -up I saw the young man with the hair thin-sown -on top rise and go quietly over to another window. -I put this down to modesty on his part. He wished -to leave me alone with my patient. So I became -more and more confidential to old Bulliston."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>("Peterson," I moaned, "all is over between -us from this moment!")</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the old ruffian would not allow Mr. Baldhead -to remove himself quietly," said Peterson, -continuing his tale calmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'James,' he cried, sharply, 'stop where you -are. All this should be very interesting to you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'So it is,' said the young man, smiling in -the rummest way, 'very interesting indeed!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So, somewhat elated, I went on prescribing -rest, massage, the double-feeding dodge, and, above -all, no intercourse with his own family. When I -got through my rigmarole, the old fellow cocked his -head to the side like a blessed dicky-bird, and -remarked: 'It shows what wonderful similarity there -is between the minds of you men of science. Talk -of the transference of ideas! Why, that is just -what my nephew was saying before you came -in—almost in the same words. Let me introduce you -to my nephew, Dr. Webb-Playfair, of Harley Street.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You could have knocked me down with a -straw. I could hardly return the fellow's very -chilly nod. I heartily confounded that little -bird-nesting minx who had got me into such a -scrape. But I had an idea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Perhaps, sir,' I said, 'if you would allow me -to consult Dr. Webb-Playfair we might be able -to assist one another.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Certainly,' cried the little old man, speaking -as sharply as a Skye-terrier yelps; 'be off into the -library. Jem, you know the way!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell you what, McQuhirr, I did not feel -particularly chirpy as I followed that fellow's shiny -crown into the next room. He sat down on a -table, swinging one leg and looking at me without -speaking. For a moment I could not find words -to begin, but his eyes were on me with a kind of -twinkle in them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Well?' he said, as if he had a right to -demand an explanation. That decided me. I -would make a clean breast of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I told him the whole story—how I had -first met Truda, of our bird-nesting, and how -Truda wanted me to be able to come often to the -house—because of the eggs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The bald young man began to laugh as I went -on with my narrative, though it was no laughing -matter to me, I can tell you. And especially -when I confessed that I did not think there was -anything the matter with his uncle, and that -Neurasthenia was the first thing that came into -my head, because I had been reading his own -article in the </span><em class="italics">Lancet</em><span> before I came out. He -thought that was the cream of the joke. He was -all of a good fellow, and no mistake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'So,' he said, 'to speak plainly, you are in love -with my cousin, and you plotted to keep the father -in bed in order that you might make love to the -daughter! That is the most remarkable recent -application of medical science I have heard of!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Oh no,' I cried, 'I assure you it was -Truda who——!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Ah,' he said, quietly, 'it was Truda, was it? -I can well believe that.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then he thought a long while, and at last he -said, 'Well, it will do the old man a great deal of -good to stay in bed and not worry his own family -and the whole neighbourhood with his whimsies. -Moreover, milk diet is a very soothing thing. We -will let it go at that. You can settle your own -affairs with my cousin Gertrude, Dr. Peterson; I -have nothing to do with that. Indeed, I would -not meddle with that volcanic young person's -private concerns for all the wealth of the Indies! -Let us go back to my uncle.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So," concluded Peterson, knocking the ashes -out of his pipe on the bars of the grate, "the old -fellow has been in bed ever since and has drunk -his own weight in good cow's milk several times -over. He is putting on flesh every day, and his -temper is distinctly improving. He can be trusted -with a candlestick beside him on the stand now, -without the certainty of his throwing it at his -nurse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Truda?" I suggested, "what did she say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, of course I told her how her cousin -had said that I had ordered the father to bed, -in order that I might make love to the daughter. -She and I were in the waterside glade beyond the -pond at the time. You know the place. We -were looking for dippers' nests. She stopped and -said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Jem Playfair said that, did he?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Yes, these were his very words,' I said, with -a due sense of their heinousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'He said you sent my father to bed that you -might make love to me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Yes.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She looked all about the glade, and then up -at me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'</span><em class="italics">Well, did you?</em><span>' she said."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This is Peterson's story exactly as he told it -to me on my return. That is some time ago -now, but there is little to add. Mr. Bliss Bulliston -is now much better both in health and in temper, -and there is every reason to believe that I shall -lose my assistant some of these days. The young -couple are talking of going out to British Columbia. -No complete collection of the eggs of that Colony -has ever been made, and Peterson says that the -climate is so healthy there, that for some years -there will be nothing for him to do but to help -Truda with her collecting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This is all very well now, in the first months -of an engagement, but as a family man myself, -I have my doubts as to the permanence of such -an arrangement.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="two-humourists"><span class="bold large">TWO HUMOURISTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Our gentle humourist is Nathan Monypenny. -No man ever heard him laugh aloud, yet as few -had ever seen him without a gleam of something -akin to kindly humour in his eye. Even now, -when the bitterness of life and its ultimate -loneliness are upon him, it is a pleasure to be next -Nathan, even at a funeral. During that dreadful -ten minutes when the black-coated, crinkle-trousered -company waits outside for the "service" -to be over, his company is universally considered -"as good as a penny bap and a warm drink." In -former days, within the memory of my father, -he had a friend and fellow-humourist in the village, -one "Doog" (that is, Douglas) Carnochan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The contrast between the two companions was -remarkable. They both lived in the same street -of our little country hamlet. Indeed, necessarily -so, for Whinnyliggate has but one street, strictly -so called. The few cottages along the "Well-road," -and the more pretentious cluster of upstarts -which keeps the Free Kirk in countenance on -the braeface, have never arrogated to themselves -the name of a street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So at one end of the Piccadilly-cum-Regent-street -of Whinnyliggate—the upper end—lived -Nathan Monypenny, and at the other end dwelt -his rival, Doog, also, though less worthily, -denominated "humourist." They were thus -separated by something considerably less than a -quarter of a mile of honest unpavemented king's -highway. But, though they were personally -friends, green oceans and trackless continents lay -between their several characters and dispositions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nathan, at the upper end, was a bachelor, -hale, fresh, and hearty as when he had finished -his 'prenticeship. Doog at forty possessed several -children, all that remained of a poor, over-worked, -downtrodden wife, and a countenance so marled -and purpled with drink, that he looked an old -man before his time. Nathan's shop was his -own, and he was understood to have already a -"weel-filled stocking-fit up the lum," or, in the -modern interpretation, a comfortable balance down -at Cairn Edward Bank, and a quiet old age -assured to him by a life of industrious self-denial.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Doog never had a penny to bless himself with, -later in the week than Tuesday; and, indeed, -often enough very few to bless his wife withal -even on Saturday nights, when, as was his custom, -he staggered homewards with the poor remnants -of his week's wage in his pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nathan's wit was of the kind which goes best -with the sedate tapping of a snuffmull, or the -tinkling of brass weights into counter-scales—Doog's -rang loudest to the jingling of toddy tumblers. -Nathan loved to gossip doucely at the door of -even-tide with the other tradesmen of the village, with -Bob Carter the joiner, his apron twisted about his -scarred hands, with bluff prosperous Joe Mitchell -the mason, and with Peter Miles the tailor, as he -sat on the low seat outside his door picking the -last basting threads out of a new waistcoat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Doog's witticisms, on the other hand, were -chiefly launched in the "Golden Lion," amid the -uproarious laughter of Jake McMinn, the "cattle -dealer frae Stranraer," Leein' Tam, the local -horse-doctor (without diploma), and "Chuckie" Orchison, -the village ne'er-do-weel and licensed sponger for -drinks upon the neighbourhood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet there existed a curious and inexplicable -liking between the two men. There was never -a day that Nathan, the douce and respectable, -did not leave his quiet white cottage at the head -of the brae, where he dwelt all alone with his -groceries, and step sedately down, stopping every -twenty yards to gossip, or drop a word, flavoured -with one of his kindly smiles, with every passer-by. -He never seemed to be going anywhere in -particular, yet he always visited Doog Carnochan's -house before he returned. And many a night did -Nathan, finding the husband not at home, pursue -and recapture the truant, and bring him back to -the tumble-down shanty, where the five ill-fed -children and the one weary-faced woman furnished -a tragic comment upon the far-renowned convivial -humours of the husband and father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tale of Nathan and Doog is one which -wants not examples in all ages of the earth's -history. It is the story of a woman's mistake. -Once Dahlia Ogilvy had been a bright frolicsome -girl, winding the young fellows of the parish -round her fingers with arch mischief, granting -a favour here and denying one there, with -that pleasant and innocent abuse of power which -comes so suddenly to a girl who, in any rank -of life, awakes to find herself beautiful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was nothing of the wilful beauty now -about Dahlia Carnochan. A stronger woman -might have mastered her fate, a weaker would have -fled from it; but she only accepted the inevitable, -and, like one who knows beforehand that her -task is hopeless, she did what she could with -silent resignation, waiting clear-eyed for that death -which alone would bring her to the end of her pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet at the time it had seemed natural enough -that Dahlia should prefer the handsome debonair -Douglas Carnochan, to quiet Nathan Monypenny, -who had so little to say for himself, and so seldom -said it. Besides, Dahlia had always known that -she could with a word send Nathan to the ends -of the earth, whilst there were certain wild ways -about the other even then, which had, for a -foolish ignorant maid, all the attraction of the -unknown. She was a little afraid of Doog -Carnochan, and there is no better subsoil whereon to -grow love in a girl's heart, than just the desire -of conquest mixed with a little fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it came to pass that, though Nathan had -carried little Dahlia's school-bag and fought her -battles ever since she could toddle across from -one cottage to the other, it was not he who, in -the fulness of time, when the blossom came to its -brightest and most beautiful, gathered it and set -it on his bosom. It ought to have been, but it -was not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As a young man Doog Carnochan was bright -and clever. Most people in the village prophesied -a brilliant future for him—that is, those who knew -not the "unstable as water" which was written -like a legend across his character. He was the -son of a small crofter in the neighbourhood, but -he companied habitually with those above him in -rank, with the sons of large farmers and rich -stock-breeders. Some of these, his cronies and -boon companions, would be sure to assist him, so -every one said. They would set him up as a -"dealer"—they would put him in charge of a -"led" farm or two. Doog's fortune was as good -as made.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, at least, injudicious flatterers assured him. -So he himself believed. So he told the innocent, -lily-like Dahlia Ogilvy at the time of year when -the Sweet William gave forth his evening perfume, -when the dew was on the latest wall-flowers, and -the scarlet lightning spangled the dusky places -beneath the hedgerows where the lovers were wont -to sit. But the blue cowled bells of the poisonous -monkshood in the cottage flower-beds they did -not see, though with some premonition of fate, -Dahlia shivered and nestled to her betrothed as -the breeze swept over them chill and bitter from -the east.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Nathan Monypenny, leaning on the gate-post -that he might sigh out his soul towards -the cottage of his beloved, by chance heard their -words; and, therewith being stricken well-nigh -to the death, softly withdrew, and left them -alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After that night Nathan sought the company -of Doog Carnochan more than ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Friends warned him that Doog was no fit -companion for such as he. They insisted that -he was neglecting his business. They said all -those useful and convincing things which friends -keep in stock for such occasions. Yet Nathan -did not desist, till he had arranged the marriage -of Dahlia Ogilvy and Douglas Carnochan beyond -all possibility of retractation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He it was who accompanied the swain to put -up the banns. He it was who paid the five-shilling -fee that the pair should be thrice cried -on one Sabbath day, and the wedding hastened -by a whole fortnight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps he wished to shorten his own pain. -Perhaps, he told himself, when once Dahlia was -Douglas Carnochan's wife, he would think no -more of her. At any rate, something strong -and moving wrought in the reticent heart of the -young tradesman. He approved the house which -Doog took for his bride. He also guaranteed the -rent. He lent the money for the furniture, and -looked after Doog on the day of the marriage, -that he might be brought soberly and worthily -to the altar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a plain-song altar indeed, for, of course, -the pair were married in the little white cottage -next to Nathan's, where Dahlia had lived all her -life. When he saw her in bridal white, Nathan -remembered with a sudden gulp a certain little -toddling thing in white pinafores, whom he used -to lift over the hedge that he might feed her with -the earliest ripe gooseberries.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every one said that they made a handsome -pair as they stood up before the minister, who, -with his back to the fire, did not know that he was -singeing his Geneva gown. For, being yet young -to these occasions, he wore that encumbrance -because it gave him an opportunity of displaying -the hood of his college degree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young women smiled covertly at the -contrast afforded by the bridegroom and his -"best-man," as they stood up together. They -did not wonder at Dahlia's preference. Any of -them would have done the same thing, if she had -had the chance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a fine grey suit!—how well it fits!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and that pale blue tie, how it matches -the flower in his coat!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus they gossiped, all unaware that it was -the hard-earned money of the plain-favoured and -shy "best-man" which had bought all that wedding -raiment, paid for that sky-blue tie, and that even -the flower in the bridegroom's button-hole had -grown in Nathan Monypenny's garden, and had -been plucked and affixed by his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus it was that the story began, and this was -the reason why Nathan sought carefully day by -day, if by any means he might yet withdraw his -friend's erring feet out of fearful pit and miry -clay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never a morning dawned for Nathan, waking, -as he had done all his life, with the hum of the -ranged bee-hives under his window in his ear, or -else listening to the pattering of the winter storms -on his lattice, that he did not bethink himself: -"It is I who am responsible. I must help him." Then -he would add with a sigh: "And her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so help he did, for the most part in ways -hidden and secret. For he dared not give money -to Doog. He knew all too well where that would -have gone. Neither for very pride's sake, and in -reverence for the secret of his heart, could he bring -himself to give money to Dahlia. Nevertheless, -as by some unseen hand, the tired heartsick woman -found her burden in many directions marvellously -eased.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sticks were stacked in the little wood-shed -which Doog had set up in the first virtuous glow -of husbandhood—and never been inside since. No -hens laid like Dahlia's—and the strange thing was -that they invariably laid in the night, sometimes -a dozen at a time, all in one nest. Her children, -playing in the hot dusk of her little garden, -had more than once turned up a sovereign or a -crownpiece wrapped in paper and run with it to -their mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From Nathan's shop, also, there came flitches -of bacon which were never ordered by Dahlia -Carnochan—flour and meal, too, in times of stress. -And it nearly always was a time of stress with Doog.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Twice a year Nathan, with much circumlocution, -would extract a reluctant shilling or two from -Doog on a flush pay-night, taking care that some -of his cronies should hear the colloquy. Then in -the morning he would send round the six months' -account duly and completely receipted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But more often than not the crony would put it -all round the village that Nathan Monypenny had -been dunning poor Doog Carnochan the night -before; and so, among the unthinking, Nathan got -the reputation of being a hard man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He doesna do onything for nocht! Na, sune or -syne, Nathan likes to see the colour o' his siller," -was said of him behind his back. And Doog's -generous kindness of heart was dwelt upon as a -foil to his friend's niggardliness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He micht hae letten puir Doog owe him the bit -shillin' or twa and never missed it!" represented -the general sense of the community.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Doog himself, be his faults what they might, -allowed none to speak ill of Nathan Monypenny.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Did he not half choke the life out of Davie -Hoatson for some hinted comment (it was never -clearly understood what), till they had to be -separated by kindly violence, Doog being yet -unappeased? Furthermore, did he not seek the -jester for three whole days, all the time breathing -fire and fury, with intent to choke the other half of -a worthless life out of him?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was the state of the case when Nathan -Monypenny's life temptation came upon him. It -was a grim and notable January night—the fourth -day of the great thaw. The rain had gusted and -blown and threshed and pelted upon those window-panes -of Whinnyliggate which looked towards the -west, till there was not a speck of dirt upon them -anywhere, except on the inside. The snow had -melted fast under the pitiless downpour, and the -patient sheep stood about behind dyke-backs, or -with the courage of despair pushed through holes -in bedraggled hedges, to take a furtive nibble -at the brown stubble of last year's cornfields.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was half-past nine when Nathan went to his -door to look out. Nathan Monypenny had built -himself a lobby, and so was thought to be -"upsetting." At that time for a man to wear a -white collar on weekdays, or to walk with his -hands out of his pockets, for a woman to be -"dressed" in the forenoon, or to wear gloves -except when actually entering the kirk door, for -a householder to whitewash his premises oftener -than once in five years, or to erect a porch to his -dwelling, was held to be "upsetting"—that is, he -(or she) was evidently setting up to be better than -their neighbours—an iniquity as unpopular in -Whinnyliggate as elsewhere in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From this "upsetting" porch, then, Nathan -looked out. A dash of rain, solid as if the little -house had shipped a sea in a perilous ocean -passage, took Nathan about the ankles and -rebuked him in a very practical fashion for coming -to the door, as is Galloway custom, in his -"stocking-feet." It had blown in from a broken -"roan" pipe, which Nathan had been intending -to mend as soon as the snow went off the root.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nathan shut the door and went within. He -had seen little through the blackness save the -bright lights of the "Golden Lion," and heard -nothing above the long-drawn </span><em class="italics">whoo</em><span> of the storm -save the noisy chorus of the drinking song which -Doog Carnochan was singing. Nathan knew it -was Doog's voice. About this he could make no -mistake. Had he not listened to it long ago, -when Doog sang in the village choir, knowing all -the while, full well, that he was singing his Dahlia's -heart out of her bosom? Nathan Monypenny -sighed and thought of that desolate house down -at the other end of the street where that same -Dahlia would even then be putting her children to -bed. He knew just the faintly wearied look there -would be on the face from which the youthful -roses had long since faded. He would have given -all he possessed in the world to sit and watch -her thus, to comfort her in her loneliness; but, -resolutely putting the temptation aside, he drew -the great Bible that had been his father's off its -shelf and laid it on the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he brought a new candle from the shop -and lighted it. But, so great was the storm -without that even in that comfortable inner room -the draught blew the flame about and the words -seemed to dance on the printed page.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again and again during his reading Nathan -lifted his head and listened. The "wag-at-the-wa'" -clock struck ten with enormous birr and -clatter, beginning with a buzz of anticipation five -minutes too soon, and continuing to emit applausive -"curmurrings" of internal satisfaction for full five -minutes after the actual stroke of the hour had -died on the ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nathan paused in his reading to listen for -the sound of the roysterers' feet going homeward -from the "Golden Lion." Doog would be one -of those, most likely the drunkest and the -noisiest. He must be half-way down the street -by now, stumbling along with trippings and foul, -irresponsible words. Now Dahlia would be opening -the door to him—Nathan knew the look on her -face. When he shut his eyes he could see it -even more clearly. In the middle dark of the -night, when he lay sleepless, staring at the ceiling, -he could see it most clearly of all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For this reason he was in no hurry to finish -and put out the light; but it had to be done at -last. And then with his head on the pillow -Nathan Monypenny bethought himself with small -satisfaction of his wasted life. Of what use was -his house, his money in the bank, his eldership, -the praise of men, the satisfactory state of his -ledger? After all, he was a lonely man, and out -there in the rain, dank and dripping, leafless and -forlorn, shivered the hedge over which in golden -weather he had lifted Dahlia Ogilvy. At the -rose-bush in the corner she had once let him -kiss her. Ah! but he must not think of that. -She was Dahlia Carnochan, and her drunken -husband had just reeled home to her. Yet as -he sat and stared at the red peats on the hearth -Nathan Monypenny could think of nothing else, -and how her hair had had a flower-like scent as -he drew her to him that night when (for once -in his grey and barren life) the roses bloomed red -and smelled sweet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there was something else which kept -Nathan's nerves on the stretch, something that -was not summed up in his thoughts of Dahlia—an -apprehension of impending disaster. Even -after he had gone to bed he lifted his head more -than once from the pillow, for his heart, stounding -and rushing in his ears, shut out all other noises. -Then he sat up and listened. He seemed to -hear a cry above the roar and swelter of the -storm—a man's cry for help in mortal need.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nathan rose and drew on his clothes hurriedly, -yet buttoning with his accustomed carefulness -an overcoat closely about him. Then, leaving -a lighted candle on the table, he opened the door -and stepped out into the darkness. The wind -met him like a wall. The rain assailed his cheeks -and stunned his ears like a volley of bullets. -For a full minute he stood exposed to the broad -fury of the tempest, slashed by the driving sleet, -beaten and deafened into bewilderment by a -turmoil of buffeting gusts. Then, recovering -himself a little, he turned aside the lee of the gable -of his cottage, which looked towards the north-east. -Here he was more sheltered, and though -the winds still sang stridently overhead, and the -swirls of lashing rain occasionally beat upon -him like "hale water," he could listen with some -composure for a repetition of the sound which -had disturbed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There—there it was again! A hoarse cry, -ending in a curious gasp and gurgle of extinction. -Nathan almost thought that he could distinguish -his own name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put his hands to his mouth funnel-wise, to -form a sort of rough-speaking trumpet. "Haloo!" -he shouted. "Where are you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was an appreciable interval before any -voice replied, and then it seemed more like a -dying man's moan of anguish than any human -tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's somebody in the water!" Nathan cried, -and rushed down the little strip of garden which -separated his cottage from the Whinnyliggate -Burn. This was ordinarily a clear little rivulet, -running lucidly brown and pleasantly at prattle -over a pebbly bed. Boys fished for "bairdies" -in its three-foot-deep pools. Iris and water-lily -fringed the swamps where it expanded into broad -sedgy ponds. But in spite of its apparent -innocence, Whinnyliggate Lane was a stream of -a dangerous reputation. Its ultimate source was -a deep mountain lake high among the bosoming -hills of Girthon, and when the rains descended and -the floods came, it sometimes chanced that the -inhabitants of the village awoke to find that their -prattling babe had become a giant, and that the -burn, which the night before had scarce covered -the pebbles in its bed, was now roaring wide and -strong, thirty feet from bank to bank, crumbling -their garden walls, and even threatening with -destruction the sacred Midtoon Brig itself, from -time immemorial the Palladium of the liberties and -the Parliament House of the gossip of the village.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The part of the bank down which Nathan ran -was used by the village smith for the important -work of "hooping wheels," or shrinking the iron -"shods" on the wheels of the red farm carts. -There were always a few rusty spare "hoops" -of solid iron scattered about, while a general </span><em class="italics">débris</em><span> -of blacksmithery, outcast and decrepit, cumbered -the burnside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before Nathan had gone far he found himself -splashing in the rising water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Loch Girthon has broken its dam!" he -murmured; "God help the puir soul that fa's -intil Whinnyliggate Lane this nicht!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was nearly pitch dark, and Nathan Monypenny, -standing up to his knees in the swirl of the -flood, called aloud, but got no reply from any -human voice. The forward hurl of the storm -whooping overhead, the roar of the icy torrent -fighting with the caving banks beneath, were the -only sounds he could distinguish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was indeed on the point of leaving the water -edge and regaining his comfortable cottage, when, -wading through a shallow extension of the stream -near the bridge, his foot struck something soft, -which carried with it a curiously human suggestion. -He stopped and laid his hand on the rough cloth -and sodden sock which covered a man's ankle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though not great of stature, Nathan Monypenny -was both strong and brave. He stooped and -endeavoured to disentangle the boot from the iron -hoop in which it was caught. Succeeding in this, -he next endeavoured to pull the drowning man -out of the water. But the head and upper part -of the body hung over the bank, and were drawn -down by the whole force of the torrent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again and again Nathan strove with all his -might, but the water wrenched and wrestled till -the body was almost snatched from his grasp. -More than once, indeed, Nathan came very near -going over the verge himself and sharing the fate -of the unfortunate whom he was endeavouring -to rescue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last, however, by dint of exertions almost -superhuman, he succeeded in getting the man -to the edge of the water, and immediately sank -exhausted on the sodden grass. By-and-bye, -however, he staggered up, and without ever thinking -of going to seek for help, he succeeded in balancing -the unconscious burden upon his shoulders and -carrying it staggeringly to his own door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The candle he had lighted was still burning, -though it seemed to Nathan that he must have -been a very long time away. He let the body -fall upon the settle bed, and then, catching sight -of the pale features, dripping ghastly under the -flicker of the farthing dip, he sank dismayed on -a chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Doog Carnochan—Dahlia Carnochan's -husband. The story was plain enough. Stumbling -homeward from the "Golden Lion," he had missed -his drunken way, and wandered down by the -"hooping" place to the water's edge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nathan stared open-mouthed. What should he -do?—go for assistance? That perhaps had been -wisest—yet, to leave a man in whom there might -be some faint spark of life! He rose and stretched -Doog's arms out over his head and back again -time after time, as he had once seen a doctor -do on the ice after a curling accident.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there was no drawing of breath, nor could -he distinguish the least beating of the heart. He -took down the little hand-mirror, which had satisfied -the frugal demands of his toilet all these years, -and put it close to the drowned man's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes—no—it could not be, yet it was just possible -that there might be a faint dimming of the surface -of the mirror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then a hot wondrous thought leaped up in -Nathan Monypenny's heart—the devil in the garb -of an angel of light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What if he were simply to hold his hand—the -man was as good as dead already.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And what then? There rose up before Nathan -Monypenny a vision of the woman whom he had -loved more than life, of a pale and weary face -upon which he would rejoice to bring out the -roses as in the days of old. Happiness would -do it, he knew. And, like all true lovers, he -believed that he alone could make that one woman -happy. Douglas Carnochan? What was he but -a drunkard who had blighted two lives? If a hand -were stirred to help him now, he would simply -go on and finish the fell work of the years. His -Dahlia's face would grow yet more weary, her -shoulders more bent, and her eyes would less -seldom be raised from the ground till on a -thrice-welcome day the grave should be opened -before her. Nathan knew it all by heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And this man—why did he deserve to live? -Had not he (Nathan) afforded him every chance? -Had he not obtained situation after situation for -him? Had he not, in fact, kept Doog Carnochan -and his family for years? Surely God did not -require from him this great final sacrifice. It -was certainly a chance to do lasting good—a -happy woman, a happy man, a happy home! -Better, too, (so Nathan told himself) for Douglas -Carnochan's children. He would be a father to -them—that which this their own father had never -been. He would train, instruct, place them in -the world. </span><em class="italics">But—he would be a murderer!</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After an hour's hard work Doog Carnochan -sighed. Five minutes more and he opened his -eyes. They twinkled blackly up at his preserver -with a kind of ironical appreciation of the situation, -and he smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Nathan," he murmured, "sae it's you -that has drawn me oot o' the black flood water! -Man, ye had better hae let weel alane!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On this occasion Doog was not a humourist -only. He was also a true prophet. For, from -every point of view save that of the Eternal -Decrees, it would indeed have been infinitely -better if Nathan had let well alone, and not -wrested back the unstable and degraded spirit -of Douglas Carnochan from the rushing waters -of Whinnyliggate Lane, that January night when -Loch Girthon burst its bounds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For, as Nathan had forecast, even so it was. -Doog promptly returned to his wallowing in the -mire, without even making a pretence of amending -his restored life. Duly he brought down his -wife's too early grey hairs in sorrow to the grave. -His children, left to run wild, divided their time -between the "Golden Lion" and the country -gaol. Doog drank himself into an unhonoured -grave. Only Nathan Monypenny remains, an -old man now, yet holding firm-lipped to a -conviction that God has explanations of the working -of His laws which He refuses to us on this -Hither Side, but which will be granted in full -to us when we "know as also we are known."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After Doog's death Nathan bought and -immediately razed to the ground the cottage at the -foot of the street where Dahlia Carnochan's life -tragedy had been enacted. He has planted a -garden of flowers there, to the scorn and scandal -of the whole village, which is cut to its utilitarian -heart to see so much good potato land wasted—simply -wasted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And every night before Nathan goes to bed -he steps quietly to the low place in the privet -hedge, over which he lifted little Dahlia Ogilvy -more than fifty years ago. He does nothing when -he gets there. He does not even pray. He has -none to pray for, and he wants nothing for himself -save God's ultimate gift, easeful death, and that, -he knows, cannot long be delayed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But if you watch him closely, you may see -him lift his hand and rest it gently upon the -stem of an ancient rose-tree, as if he had laid -it in benediction upon a young child's head.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics small">Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE STICKIT MINISTER'S WOOING</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49342"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49342</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg™ concept and -trademark. 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