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clear: both; } + .blackletter {font-family: 'Old English Text MT', serif; font-weight:bold; + font-style: normal; } + .x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { float: left; } + </style> + </head> + <body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77324 ***</div> + +<div class='tnotes covernote'> + +<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong></p> + +<p class='c000'>New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.</p> + +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_001.jpg' alt='THE DARK YEAR OF DUNDEE.' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='border titlepage'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_003a.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div> + <h1 class='c001'><span class='large'>THE</span><br> <span class='sc'>Dark Year of Dundee</span>:<br> <span class='xlarge'><span class='blackletter'>A Tale of the Scottish Reformation.</span></span></h1> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c002'> + <div><i>BY THE AUTHOR OF</i></div> + <div><i><span class='small'>“Sunset in Provence, and other Tales of Martyr Times,” &c.</span></i></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_003b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div>LONDON:</div> + <div class='c003'>T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW;</div> + <div>EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.</div> + <div class='c003'>1867.</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_v'>v</span> +<img src='images/i_005.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'>PREFACE</h2> +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_005.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +The Dark Year of Dundee may be +called a tale of Fact, since Fiction has +only been employed in it as the handmaid +of Truth, and for the purpose of throwing a +more vivid light upon scenes and events that +actually occurred. The “story,” slight as it is, +may not inaptly be likened to the sheath or calyx +that encloses and protects the yet unopened bud. +When the flower unfolds its petals, the calyx has +fulfilled its work, and, hidden from the eye, no +longer attracts the thoughts and attention of the +spectator. Thus it has been intended only to leave +upon the reader’s mind the impression of one grand +and simple character;—only to tell, plainly and +briefly, the story of one who, long ago, laboured +<span class='pageno' id='Page_vi'>vi</span>abundantly and endured nobly for Christ’s sake, +“strengthened with all might according to his +glorious power.” And no alloy of fiction has been +admitted into what is here recorded of George +Wishart; for, apart from any other consideration, +such a character as his is “God’s workmanship,” +and it would seem impossible to add anything to +the great Artist’s design without marring its beauty +and completeness.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_006.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_vii'>vii</span> +<img src='images/i_007.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'>CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + +<table class='table0'> + <tr><td class='c006' colspan='3'>THE DARK YEAR OF DUNDEE.</td></tr> + <tr> + <th class='c007'></th> + <th class='c008'> </th> + <th class='c009'>Page</th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>I.</td> + <td class='c008'>Fanaticism</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_9'>9</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>II.</td> + <td class='c008'>Clouded Death</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_21'>21</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>III.</td> + <td class='c008'>God’s Messenger</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_31'>31</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>IV.</td> + <td class='c008'>Fruits of the Message</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_45'>45</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>V.</td> + <td class='c008'>More Fruits of the Message</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_57'>57</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>VI.</td> + <td class='c008'>The Darkest Hour</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_69'>69</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>VII.</td> + <td class='c008'>New Friends and Old</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_83'>83</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>VIII.</td> + <td class='c008'>The Cardinal’s Missionary</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_99'>99</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>IX.</td> + <td class='c008'>How the Mission Sped</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_111'>111</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>X.</td> + <td class='c008'>What became of the Cardinal’s Missionary</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_129'>129</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>XI.</td> + <td class='c008'>Clear shining after Rain</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_147'>147</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>XII.</td> + <td class='c008'>The Reward of God’s Messenger</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_169'>169</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='bbt c007'>XIII.</td> + <td class='bbt c008'>He giveth his beloved Sleep</td> + <td class='bbt c009'><a href='#Page_189'>189</a></td> + </tr> + <tr><td class='c006' colspan='3'>THE PRIOR’S TITHE.</td></tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>I.</td> + <td class='c008'>Tithing the Fish</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_219'>219</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>II.</td> + <td class='c008'>The Excommunication</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_231'>231</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>III.</td> + <td class='c008'>The First Prayer</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_243'>243</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>IV.</td> + <td class='c008'>Dawnings of Light</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_257'>257</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><span class='pageno' id='Page_viii'>viii</span>V.</td> + <td class='c008'>The Great Change</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_271'>271</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>VI.</td> + <td class='c008'>Entering into the Cloud</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_287'>287</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>VII.</td> + <td class='c008'>Voices in the Cloud</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_301'>301</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>VIII.</td> + <td class='c008'>The Cloud Breaks</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_315'>315</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>IX.</td> + <td class='c008'>Left Alone</td> + <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_329'>329</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_008.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span> +<img src='images/i_009.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>I.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>Fanaticism.</span></h2> +</div> +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“I know the dim haunts of fever,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Where the blossoms of youth decay:</div> + <div class='line'>I know where your free broad river</div> + <div class='line in2'>Sweeps disease on its breast away.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Yet despite your earnest pity,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And despite its own smoke and din,</div> + <div class='line'>I cling to yon crowded city,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Though I shrink from its woe and sin.”</div> + <div class='line in24'><cite>Hymns of Faith and Hope.</cite></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_009b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_011.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>I.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>Fanaticism.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_011.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +It was the early summer of the year 1544, and +the shadow of a dark cloud was already +looming over every home in Dundee. +God’s terrible angel of the pestilence stood with his +sword outstretched, as of old over guilty Jerusalem; but +no eye was opened to behold him; as yet no one suspected +the danger and the anguish at hand.</p> + +<p class='c013'>In a small room of one of the high dark houses of the +old town, a pretty, modest-looking young girl sat spinning, +and singing as she span, in a sweet though rather listless +voice. Now and then she glanced anxiously at the door, +or rose to pay some little attention to the “kail” for the +mid-day repast. Although the meal could scarcely have +been intended for more than two persons, the fire +necessary for its preparation increased uncomfortably the +heat of the narrow room.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Guid day, Mary,” said a girl about her own age, or +a little older, entering without ceremony.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>The new comer was tall and strongly made; and, +without the smallest pretensions to beauty, had an +honest, open countenance. She held in her hand a +large bunch of the pretty field-flowers so well known in +Scotland as blue-bells.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Look what I hae brocht ye, sin’ ye tell me ye come +frae the hills. I thocht ye’d like them, maybe, to mind +ye of yer auld hame.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary Wigton eagerly took the flowers, thanked her +friend with many expressions of delight, and a moment +or two afterwards burst into tears.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Honest Janet Duncan was considerably disconcerted +by the effect produced by her gift. “Weel, to be sure,” +she ejaculated, “gin I didna think they’d hae pleasured +ye!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Sae they hae,” said Mary, recovering herself +quickly. “It was naebut a wee thocht of the auld +hame and the auld times, and the heather and gowans +on the bonnie Sidlaw hills. But it’s nae use thinking +lang. Noo father’s farm is sold, it’s no like we’ll +ever gae back again. Where did ye get thae blue-bells, +Janet?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Archie, the ne’er-do-weel, played the truant frae his +schule wi’ a wheen idle callants like himsel, and gaed +out owre the Law and Balgay Hill. I’m afeard when +Jamie comes ben and hears it he’ll be sair angered. +An’ it’s no wonnerfu’, when he’s focht as he has to keep +<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>the lad to his schuling, and he nae mair himsel but a +puir journeyman baxter.”<a id='r1'></a><a href='#f1' class='c014'><sup>[1]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c013'>“He’s a guid brither to ye, Janet.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye may say just that.” Then, as a new thought +struck her, she contradicted herself energetically. “Na, +he’s nae guid brither, but the best brither in a’ Dundee. +Left but<a id='r2'></a><a href='#f2' class='c014'><sup>[2]</sup></a> father, or mither, or friend in the wide warld, +wha wad hae thocht he could hae keepit us thegither, +and fended for us sae weel. I can turn my hand to +mony a thing, thank the saints, but there’s Archie and +Effie, puir bairns; Archie naebut gaun threteen, and +unco witless, and Effie a wee bit lassie. Eh, but we’ve +seen hard times, Mary.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary probably thought her own troubles had been +greater than those of her friend; but she only said in a +sympathizing tone, “Sit ye down, Janet, ye’re no hurried +the day?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Janet replied in the negative, for she dearly loved +half an hour’s chat with a friend, when it could be +obtained without neglecting her duties to her paragon +brother Jamie, or her youthful charges, Archie and Effie.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye’re watching for your father?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay; but I’m in hopes he’s got a lift o’ wark, he’s +sae late. It’s unco little he brings hame,” she said +sadly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s ill speiring after wark in this muckle town,” +<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>answered Janet. “Why did ye no bide in the country +pairts, whaur a’body kenned ye?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I tell ye. There’s a man here that owes father a +matter o’ twa hundert merk—that Maister Wilson wha +has the muckle shop in the Nethergate, and sells silks +and ribbons and sic’. He’s a rich man, but he’s no an +<i>honest</i> man, Janet. When father loaned him the siller +he was naebut a puir laddie, and father helped him sin’ +he was sib to his wife’s mither. Weel, father’s that +careless he never took tent to get a bit writing, forbye +his word o’ mouth, ye ken. Sae when the warld gaed +by-ordinar ill wi’ him, and the oats failed, and the sheep +dee’d, and he maun sell the bonnie farm his forbears +held before him, he thocht o’ Maister Wilson and his +twa hundert merk, and came here to look after the +siller. But Maister Wilson, he says there’s nae debt +ava’, and that father canna prove it. Whilk last is owre +true, wae’s me! Gin John, that’s my brither, wad hae +bided wi’ us, he’d hae been a braw lawyer the noo, and +richted us.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I didna ken ye had a brither, Mary.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, ay; there were five o’ us, and a’ dee’d bairns but +John and mysel. He was the eldest, an’ I the youngest. +He was twal year aulder than I. He was a clever bairn, +<i>vera</i>. Father had siller to spare in thae days, sae he +thocht to make a man of him, and sent him to St. +Andrews to study the law. And he was sae guid and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>kind-like, and loved his book sae weel. A’ the maisters set +muckle store by him, and as for father and mither, he +was just the licht o’ their een. But he gaed clean daft.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Gaed daft, Mary?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I canna mind mysel, for I was a wee lassie the time; +but father told me he wasna seventeen year auld full +when sic’ a change came owre him. He grew dour and +hard, and wad hae nocht to do wi’ archery, and goff, +and putting the stane, and a’ thae ploys that young men +use. He wad gang by himsel, and greet and talk of his +sins. It was aye and aye his sins wi’ him. Gin he had +been a thief or a murderer he couldna hae made mair to +do on’t. Yet he was aye a guid lad, and what he could +hae done to gar him tak’ on sae, nae mortal could speir. +Let father say what he might, naething would serve him +but to gie the law up, and tak’ the priest’s frock. Sae +that was the end on’t.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And do ye no see him whiles?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Na; we couldna gang to him, and he wouldna come +to us. Father thinks he has clean forgot us. Thae holy +men grow unco hard to their ain folk whiles. He’s no +John Wigton ony mair, he’s Sir John Wigton the priest. +I dinna ken whaur he is the noo, and gin we met in +the street ane ’id pass the ither by.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“When yer mither dee’d did ye no tell him?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How could we? We’re nae scholars, father nor I. +But I trow he helped mither to her grave.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>“Weel, our Jamie’s no <i>that</i> religious; but he gaes to +his kirk regular, and says his <i>aves</i> and minds his puir +soul as he can.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Seems to me,” said Mary, “it’s a hard case gin puir +folks canna save their souls but they break their parents’ +hearts. But here’s father!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Janet stayed to exchange greetings with an elderly +man of respectable appearance, but with something in +his step, voice, and manner, that betrayed a certain +weakness and indecision of character. Having answered +his remark, “It’s by-ordinar hot and heavy for the time +o’ year,” with a heartfelt, “Ye may weel say that,” she +bade Mary good-bye, and hastened upstairs to the rooms +in the same “land” which the Duncan family occupied.</p> + +<p class='c013'>While the father and daughter partake of their simple +meal, a few words may be added in explanation of the +religious history which Mary had recounted to her +friend, much as an ignorant person might describe the +appearance of some curious piece of mechanism, the +construction and uses of which he was alike unable to +comprehend.</p> + +<p class='c013'>John Wigton was no very unusual character. There +have been obscure Dominics and Loyolas, as well as +village Hampdens and mute inglorious Miltons. Naturally +of a thoughtful temperament, as he passed from +boyhood into youth he began to ask himself some of +those solemn questions which are the birthright of every +<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>human soul. He knew but little of the great realities of +the eternal world, but that little sufficed to make him +first anxious and then miserable. He knew that sin +was hateful to God, and he felt himself a sinner. His +convictions partook of the ardour and intensity of his +character, he was willing to do or suffer anything so that +he might escape from the wrath to come. At this time +perhaps John Wigton was not very far from the kingdom +of heaven. Had a copy of Tyndale’s New Testament +fallen into his hands, had he heard some enlightened +reformer preaching Christ and him crucified, his character, +humanly speaking, might have differed from what +it actually became as light differs from darkness. But +Rome had him in her hands to mould, and out of such +materials Rome moulds fanatics—from this wine she +distils her sourest vinegar. She did not seek to obliterate +his convictions; she rather strengthened, though she did +not, properly speaking, deepen them. She told him +little of the holiness of God’s character and of the true +nature of sin; but she told him much of the sinner’s +awful doom, of the fire and brimstone and the never-dying +worm. She employed almost exclusively images +of physical suffering, and employed them to terrify the +imagination and to shake the nerves, rather than to touch +the heart or the conscience. And when he sought for a +way of escape from all these horrors, the path of penance +and self-mortification was opened before him. He was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>taught to torture himself here that God might not torture +him for ever hereafter; for it was in such an aspect that +the Lord merciful and gracious, slow to anger and +plenteous in goodness and truth, was presented to his +mind. Being sincere and earnest, he did all, and more +than all, that was required of him. He scourged himself, +he starved himself, he deprived himself of necessary +sleep, and in many other ways, which it would be +neither pleasant nor profitable to enumerate, he practised +“will-worship and neglecting of the body.” But it would +not do. If the blood of bulls and goats cannot take +away sin, neither could a man’s own blood, though he +were to pour it forth drop by drop, and in the most +painful way that even the depraved imagination of +monkish inquisitors could devise. John Wigton’s conscience, +like that of many another miserable victim of +Rome, bore sad witness to this truth. He was not at +peace, he was not forgiven. On he went, further and +further, upon the painful path prescribed to him, still +pursuing a phantom that, like the mirage of the desert, +always eluded his grasp. He did not find what he sought, +but something he did find which, in the abnegation of all +possible enjoyment, and the endurance of almost all +possible suffering, still made life tolerable to him—he +found excitement, he found employment for his powers, +and food for his pride. Even apart from the praise it +brought him (and he who <i>knew</i> himself a miserable +<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>unpardoned sinner liked to hear himself called a saint), +he began to take a morbid but real pleasure in self-infliction.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But there is an old and wise saying, “When water +ceases to quench thirst, what will you drink after it?” +It is the character of every unnatural excitement to pall +with indulgence; and thus John Wigton found at length +that his bodily austerities ceased to afford him even +temporary relief and satisfaction. A stronger stimulant +was required, and he found it. He set himself to +mortify, not the nerves and muscles of his body, but the +desires of his mind and the feelings of his heart. Family +affection, friendship, the love of study, the free exercise +of reason and judgment, all were ruthlessly sacrificed on +the altar of his faith. In process of time he came to +regard an impulse of tenderness towards his parents or +his little sister as a kind of sinful self-indulgence, only +greater than a soft bed or a luxurious meal. And there +is this difference between the grosser and the more subtle +forms of self-torture, that while a man may perhaps +educate himself into an unnatural insensibility to bodily +pain without injury to the rest of his character, the +process of hardening his soul is equivalent to a moral +self-murder. John Wigton dared not allow himself to +love or to pity, and he succeeded (or <i>thought</i> he did) in +conquering these weaknesses of human nature; but he +paid a heavy price for his success. He soon learned to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>regard the sufferings of others with indifference, nay, +with joy and triumph, when they advanced the interests +of the Church. In her service he was willing (or +thought he was) to give his own body to be burned, and +it was quite as meritorious, and on the whole rather +more convenient, to burn the bodies of other men. At +this point his education may be considered finished. At +thirty years of age he was a thorough fanatic, with +conscience and feeling both absorbed in one master +passion. And then cooler heads began to take note of +him as a man who might make a useful tool when there +was work to be done from which ordinary men would +shrink in horror.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Is this a fancy sketch? Alas! history answers, No; +and from amongst the dim and shadowy forms of that +multitude whom Rome has crowned with her doubtful +honours there rises before the memory more than one +so-called “saint” who might have sat for the portrait.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_020.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_021.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>II.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>Clouded Death.</span></h2> +</div> +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“O God! to clasp those fingers close,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And yet to feel so lonely:</div> + <div class='line'>To see a light on dearest brows,</div> + <div class='line in2'>That is the sunlight only!</div> + <div class='line in8'>Be pitiful, O God!”</div> + <div class='line in28'><span class='sc'>E. B. Browning.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_021b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_023.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>II.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>Clouded Death.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_023.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +When we look from a distance upon some +great mountain, we are apt to form rather +mistaken ideas, not only of its dimensions, +but of its relation to the surrounding landscape. It +seems to stand before us alone in its majesty, rising like +an altar to heaven, and sundered by some sharp dividing +line from the plain beneath. But usually it is not so. A +nearer approach brings us to gentle slopes, green with +pasture or waving with corn, rising higher and higher, +sometimes almost imperceptibly, till at last, by slow +gradations, we arrive at the region of jagged rock and +frowning precipice. Something like this we may find +in the moral world. To the distant observer, a time of +terror and anguish stands out in bold relief from the +ordinary level of common life; and he forgets the subtle +gradations, the diversified incidents, some of them trivial +enough, through which men usually pass from one kind +of life to another.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>So passed the men of Dundee, in the summer months +of that terrible year, step by step from vague apprehension +to vivid, actual terror; as the pestilence that +walketh in darkness first struck down one, and another, +and another; then gradually multiplied its victims +until the voice of lamentation filled the city, and no +man felt his own life safe from the destroyer for a single +hour.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Not very long after the first appearance of the pestilence, +Archie Duncan came back one morning in high +glee from the grammar-school, whither he had been +despatched by the careful Janet only half an hour +before.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nae mair schule,” he cried, flinging his book on the +table; “maister’s awa’, for fear o’ the sickness;—and may +guid gang wi’ him!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie, who happened to be in the room, brought his +brother’s ill-timed hilarity to a close by a smart box +on the ear. “Hae ye no feeling, callant?” he asked +angrily. “Ye suld be on yer twa knees, praying the +blessed saints to pity us, instead of jesting and daffing.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was justice in the reproof, and Archie was +abashed. He withdrew quietly to the window where his +little sister was standing, and Jamie presently resumed: +“A’ the rich folk’ll soon be awa’, and naebody left in +the toun but puir bodies, wha maun just bide because +they canna quit.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>“There’s a hantle shops shut up alang by the High +Street and the Nethergate,” remarked Janet.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Folk dinna care to buy, these times,” responded +Jamie. “I hae thocht it an ill trade enoo’ to be naething +but a puir baxter lad, Janet; but noo I thank +Saint Andrew for the same, for folk maun <i>eat</i>, so lang’s +they’re alive.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>At this moment the door was partly opened, and a +low, startled voice called, “Janet!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Come ben, Mary,” said Jamie, at once recognising +that of Mary Wigton.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary did not come in, however, and Janet went outside +the door to speak to her. The poor girl’s face was +deadly pale, and her eyes were large and wild with terror. +“What’s wrang wi’ ye?” asked Janet, in alarm.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Na sae muckle,” said Mary, trying to hide her fears, +not so much from her friend as from herself. “Father’s +head’s licht the day, and he’s no himsel a’ thegither,—but—but—he’s +no <i>that</i> ill, Janet.” She was trembling +violently and clinging to the handle of the door for +support.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Puir lassie,” said Janet, compassionately.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Will ye come and see him the noo? Do, Janet, <i>do</i>—for +mercy’s sake!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Janet was a brave girl, and she loved Mary Wigton +dearly. But for the sake of the other members of her +family she felt she durst not enter the infected room. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>She answered, therefore, after a moment’s hard struggle +with herself, “Wae’s me! I daurna, for Jamie and the +bairns.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary did not remonstrate, but the sorrowful expression +of her face touched Janet deeply. She said, “I’ll +gang in and gar Jamie fetch ye a leech.<a id='r3'></a><a href='#f3' class='c014'><sup>[3]</sup></a> He’ll ken +what’s wrang wi’ yer father. Aiblins it’s no the +sickness.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary thanked her, and returned sadly to her watch +beside her father’s bed; still hoping against hope that +this might prove some passing ailment, and not the +dreaded “sickness.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>James Duncan found it difficult to procure a physician; +as some, who thought their own lives of more +value than those of their patients, had quitted the town, +and of course those who remained had their hands full +of work.</p> + +<p class='c013'>At length, however, he succeeded; though at the +heavy price of presenting himself late at his master’s +shop, and being obliged to admit that the sickness +had made its appearance in the house where he +lodged.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The physician, a compassionate man, reluctantly pronounced +the verdict poor Mary most dreaded. He +then prescribed some remedies, which were probably +calculated to do neither good nor harm to the sufferer; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>and left, promising to send a hired nurse, and to return +himself on the morrow.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The presence of the nurse probably saved Mary’s +reason, if not her life. All that day, and the night that +followed it, they two kept their awful watch beside the +suffering and delirious patient. When the morning +broke, and all things looked weird and strange in the +faint gray light, then there came a change. Mary had +risen to extinguish the useless lamp, when to her great +joy her father quietly asked her to leave it burning still. +Reason had returned, but alas! it was only the last look +cast upon earth by the parting soul ere its dread flight to +the unknown world.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I hae been vera ill, Mary!” said the dying man. +“I maun hae a priest. Where’s our John?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary started. Up to this moment, terror and anguish +had so bewildered her, that, as she afterwards thought, +with bitter self-reproach, she had forgotten her dear +father’s soul in ministering to his body. “John’s no +here,” she said, “but I’ll fetch ye a priest.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Na, na,” said Wigton, holding her hand in his; “ye +maunna leave me, my lassie.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Nor could she part with the nurse, so she again had +recourse to the Duncans. Standing this time at the +foot of the stairs, she called Janet, and in a few agitated +words made her request.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie was out, his business requiring his attendance +<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>at an early hour, but Janet herself readily undertook the +mission; while Mary returned to her place, and heard +the nurse whisper as she passed her, “He’s sinking fast.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Two long slow hours wore away, and then Janet +returned. Mary met her in the passage. “He’s amaist +gone!” she gasped.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Wae’s me! I hae travelled the hail toun, and the +never a priest could I get!” said Janet, in much distress. +“The mair part hae gone awa’ like ither folk, and the +lave willna come when it’s the sickness. There’s ane +frae St. Mary’s Kirk might hae come, but he’s ill himsel +the day. Anither—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But Mary did not stay to hear the detailed account +of her failures. With a look of anguish she put her +hand to her head, murmuring, “Too late! Too late!” +then hurried back to her father, and knelt down beside +his bed.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She took his cold hand in hers, and said, as calmly as +she could, “Father dear, we canna get a priest. We +maun trust in the guid God aboon, and in the blessed +Virgin.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nae priest—nae priest!” said the dying man, with +a bewildered look. “But where’s our John?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We maun try to pray,” answered Mary, and she +began in faltering tones to repeat a Paternoster. But +the Latin words, which she could not understand, were +soon exchanged for a wild agonized cry for mercy in her +<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>native tongue. And almost before she had finished, the +spirit of Hugh Wigton passed away.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is painful to linger over scenes like this, and the +heart yearns to escape from the thoughts they suggest. +But for once, at least, let us dare to face the bitter, +bitter truth; it may have its lessons for us. Were there +not many deathbeds in the plague-stricken town no +brighter than that of Hugh Wigton? We have every +reason to suppose it. For it must be remembered, that +even had Janet Duncan succeeded in procuring a priest, +the rites he would have administered might have made +the dying man more comfortable, but could not have +made him safer. Not having Christ, what had he in +which to trust?</p> + +<p class='c013'>Are not the same awful tragedies still enacted before +us day by day? Dare we ask ourselves how many, even +from the midst of a nominally Christian land, “go to +the generation of their fathers, and never see light?” +And meanwhile <i>we</i>—even we who have tasted the good +Word of God and the powers of the world to come—do +we not too often eat and drink, buy and sell and get +gain, and pursue our various schemes of business and +pleasure, all too heedless of “the exceeding great and +bitter cry, which seems as it were to go up from the +waste places of the earth, Bless us, even us also, O our +Father?”</p> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_031.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>III.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>God’s Messenger.</span></h2> +</div> +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Across the fever’s fiery path he trod,</div> + <div class='line'>And one went with him like the Son of God.”</div> + <div class='line in32'><span class='sc'>Rev. W. Alexander.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_031b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_033.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>III.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>God’s Messenger.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_033.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +After the death of Hugh Wigton, the Duncans +took his desolate and broken-hearted +orphan to their own home. Mary’s grief +was not wild—that was not in her character—but it was +intense and crushing. Except the absent brother, her +father had been her only surviving relative, and all the +tendrils of her loving nature had entwined themselves +around him. He was snatched from her in a single +day; and that in a manner so bitter and heart-rending +that horror was at first almost stronger than sorrow. +One thought, above all others, cruelly aggravated her +distress, and it was rarely absent from her. He died +without the sacraments of the Church—what then would +become of his soul? This anguish was too deep for +words, and almost for tears; it was only upon one occasion +that she even alluded to it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wonner,” she said to Janet one day, while she +helped her in some humble household work, “I wonner +<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>gin the kirkmen be richt sure themsels that a’ they tell +us is true,”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, Mary!” exclaimed Janet, whose mind was the +reverse of speculative in its tendencies, “what gars ye +speir sic’ a thing?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But Mary answered intelligently, for sorrow is a good +master in the art of thinking, “Did they no care for their +ain lives, and let my dear father dee like a puir dumb +beast, that has nae soul ava’?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Tut, lassie, a’body cares for his life,” said Janet, +going on vigorously with her work.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary shook her head. “But they suld hae mair +pity. They suld hae a thocht o’ the puir souls that are +deeing around them. God forgie me, I canna bide the +thocht of it! My puir, puir father! An’ there’s mony +sic’ as he, Janet; mony sic’!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Weel, it’s no for the like of us to be deaving our +heads wi’ sic’ things;—gie us a hand wi’ the spurtle, +Mary; Jamie’ll come ben keen for his parritch,—tho’ +there’s unco little meal left in the kist.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary was silenced, but not comforted. Soon, however, +other troubles came. The victims of the pestilence +were every day more numerous; and although Mary +cared but little just then for her own life, she took part +in the fears of the Duncan family for each other; nor +could any of them remain unmoved by the universal +terror and distress. To their trials that of want was now +<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>added; for James Duncan’s master had dismissed him +from his employment on hearing that a person had died +of the plague in the “land” where he lived; and +although the girls could spin and sew, they found it, +for the same reason, impossible to dispose of their work.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Knowing it would be useless to seek another situation +at present, Jamie had no alternative but to sit at +home, idle, hungry, and miserable. Naturally, these +circumstances did not tend to improve his temper, which +was further soured by various collisions with Archie. +It was not to be expected that a bright active boy +would be content to stay indoors all day without occupation +or amusement; and yet it seemed little less than +madness to allow him to wander about the streets at +his will. Janet’s good sense fortunately led her to compromise +matters by sending him, whenever she could, upon +necessary errands, cautioning him to “gang hoolie,”<a id='r4'></a><a href='#f4' class='c014'><sup>[4]</sup></a> to +keep the middle of the street, and above all not to +linger with idle boys, “wha might gie him the sickness.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>On one of these occasions he delayed such an unreasonable +time that Jamie vowed summary vengeance on +his return. His absence being still further prolonged, +annoyance changed to serious anxiety, as instances had +occurred of persons being suddenly seized with the +pestilence in the streets, and unable ever to regain their +homes. But towards the end of the second hour, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>Archie reappeared, and with a countenance and +manner which showed there was nothing amiss.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Laying down the loaf he had been sent to purchase, +he exclaimed, “Eh, but there’s braw news the day! A’ +the tounfolk are weel nigh daft wi’ joy, sae that a body +wad think the sickness was awa’. Maister Wishart’s +come back again.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Wha’s he?” asked Effie, who thought that what +pleased Archie ought to interest her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hoot! a’body kens Maister George Wishart. He’s +a guid priest (but they ca’ him the minister), and nae +common priest either; he’s a braw gentleman, and +sae guid to the puir folk, forbye preaching like an +angel.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He’s nae priest ava’,” said Jamie. “He’s naebut a +preacher; and he’s a muckle heretic. Do ye no mind +when he was here before, how the lord cardinal put the +tounfolk in fear, and they bade him gang his ways?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He’s nae heretic!” returned Archie, who was not +sorry to contradict his elder brother, and who besides +had spent the greater part of the last two hours taking +lessons in “heresy” at the street corners and in the +shops. “He’s nae heretic. It’s naebut the bishops ca’ +him that, because they canna preach like him theirsels, +the doited loons!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Whist, laddie! ye suldna misca’ yer betters.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But what gars him come back the noo, when a’body +<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>wha could do it has just rin awa’? Is he no fear’t o’ the +sickness?” asked Janet.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He’s no fear’t of <i>onything</i>,” said Archie, with genuine +admiration, for courage is perhaps the only virtue a boy +can thoroughly appreciate. But at these words Mary +dropped her thread (she had been spinning), and fixed +her eyes on his face with a sudden look of interest. “And +he’s gaun to preach the morn frae the Cowgate.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Frae the Cowgate!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Frae the top o’ the Cowgate. And the folk wha hae +had the sickness amang them maun gang outside; and +the <i>free</i> folk maun bide inside.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then we maun gang out,” said Janet.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye’ll gang neither out nor in wi’ my guid will,” +Jamie interposed.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Gin our puir souls havena enoo’ upon them, these +ill times, without fashing oursels wi’ his heresies. He +was weel awa’. What gars him come back to set the +town in a bleeze wi’ sic’ fooleries?” An ungenerous +speech, which James Duncan afterwards repented.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He maun hae a guid heart to Dundee,” Janet +ventured to remark, “or he wadna come here sic’ a +time. Mair pity gin he is a heretic.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Gin!” repeated Jamie ironically; “gin my lord +cardinal had him in his grip, nae doot but he’d burn +him quick, and gie the silly folk wha gang to hear him +something to remember.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>“Atweel,” said Archly smartly, “let my lord cardinal +come and gie us a sermon himsel, and we’ll a’ leave +Maister Wishart and gang to hear <i>him</i>. But I wad ye +a plack, he’ll put mair than the length of his muckle +cross between us and him the noo!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye may hand yer clavers,” said Jamie, who did not +feel himself equal to a discussion of the subject “Ye’re +nane gaun to the Cowgate the morn.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Archie vigorously remonstrated against this decision. +“It’s no for the heresy,” he said in self-vindication, +“but I want to see a man preach frae the top o’ the +gate.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Janet however, as in duty bound, threw her weight +into the scale of Jamie’s lawful authority. “Ye’ll be a +guid lad and mind yer brither,” she said to Archie; “and +forbye the heresy, wha kens but we micht tak’ the sickness, +gaun promiscuous into sic’ a muckle crowd.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Here the matter might have ended, but for Mary +Wigton, who looked up and said very quietly, “I hope +ye’ll no be fashed or think hard o’ me, but I maun gang +to hear Maister Wishart.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>This took them all by surprise, for since her father’s +death Mary had been as it were quite passive, not seeming +to have any will or purpose of her own.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“An’ what for, Mary, lass?” Jamie asked, in the +softened tone he always used when speaking to her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Because he hae ta’en thocht o’ the puir folks’ souls, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>and doesna think muckle to set his ain life i’ the bawk. +God bless him for it! Gin he had been here, father +needna hae dee’d like—like—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Atweel, he maun hae the love o’ God in his heart, +and the Word o’ God on his lips, let them ca’ him +heretic as they may.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>When James Duncan gave himself time to reflect, +he began to modify the opinions he had expressed. +Granted that Wishart was a heretic, he was still a man +of rank and talent, admired and beloved not only by +thousands of the people, but by many of the nobles of +the land. That such a man should put his life in his +hand, and voluntarily hasten to the city where death +was raging, and whence all who could do it had fled in +terror, served at least to impress one lesson on his +mind. The men of Dundee were not, as in his dejection +he had begun to think, quite forsaken both of +heaven and earth. One man at least there was who +had found it in his heart to come to them in this time +of trouble, for the express purpose of giving them all +the help and comfort he could. Might not his courageous +charity be a sign that God’s mercy was not so far +away as they were tempted to imagine? Thus, at last, +Wishart’s coming began to look very like a single ray of +light in their clouded sky, and in his heart he “blessed +him unawares.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Janet having ascertained next morning that Mary +<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>still persisted in her intention of going to the preaching, +was considerably surprised to see her brother take from +the “kist” in which it was deposited, a gown which had +belonged to his father, and which he carefully reserved +for important occasions.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye’re no gaun out the morn?” she asked.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do ye think, woman, I could let the lassie gang +her lane to the Cowgate?” was the answer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“An’ <i>you</i> maun gang, <i>I’ll</i> not be left behind,” said +Janet.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Please yersel,” was Jamie’s laconic reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But we daurna leave the bairns,” suggested Janet.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The “bairns” overhearing this, entreated to be of +the party; and after a little more discussion it was +decided that all were to go, Jamie quieting his conscience +with the reflection, “Ane sermon willna dae us +muckle harm, an’ it were as full of heresies as Glasgow +is of bells.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>They were soon a part of the crowd that thronged +about the east gate of the town. Janet and Mary stood +together; Jamie took little Effie in his arms; while +Archie, to his great joy, succeeded in dislodging a taller +boy than himself from the top of a particularly eligible +heap of stones. Mary could not help remarking the +mournful expression of all the faces that surrounded +them. Pallid, sickly, worn-out faces they were, for the +most part; many of them bearing the traces of just such +<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>agonies as she had passed through when she watched by +her father’s death-bed. And not a few had a wild and +reckless look, as if, in the effort to escape from anguish, +they were hardening themselves into despair.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Suddenly every eye was raised upwards with a look +of eager interest and expectation. Very touching was +the gaze of that great multitude, in its wistful, silent +appeal to the heart of him who had come among them, +promising to tell them something which could make +life more tolerable, and death less bitter. Mary looked +where others did, and her eye rested with involuntary +admiration on the stately figure of the preacher, a tall +man, dark-haired, and of dark complexion, with a noble +countenance, and singularly graceful manner. Something +else there was, not so easy to describe or to +analyze, which insensibly attracted her. It may have +been the love and pity that beamed from his face as he +looked on those sorrowing thousands—the love that +winged his footsteps to that scene of death, because, as +he said, “They are now in trouble, and need comfort; +and perhaps the hand of God will make them now to +magnify and reverence that Word which before, for fear +of men, they set at light part.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But besides this, a man could scarcely live as George +Wishart did—so very near to Christ that he loved to +spend whole days and nights in direct communion with +him, or follow so closely in the footsteps of his self-denying +<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>charity—without reflecting, even in outward +appearance, some little of the glory of that land in which +his spirit dwelt. For there is a calm and an elevation +which nothing but the peace and the presence of God +can impart to the countenance of man.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Amidst a deep silence he read aloud the text he had +chosen: “He sent his Word, and healed them.” “It +is neither herb nor plaster, O Lord,” he said, “but thy +Word that heals all.” And then, for the first time, +Mary Wigton heard Christ preached. She heard that +there was a disease more deadly than the dreaded +pestilence; that she herself had breathed its poison; +that it had entered her being and become a part of it; +and her heart and her conscience answered “yes” to +the charge. Then she heard of the Deliverer, the “Word” +of God, who, because he loved mankind, because he +loved <i>her</i>, had left his home which was the Heaven of +Heavens, to suffer and die upon earth, that all who +believed on him might be healed of their deadly sickness, +forgiven their transgressions, renewed in the spirit +of their minds, and made the sons and daughters of the +Lord Almighty.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Are “the words of this life” in our ears as an oft told +tale? If so, let us thank God for it, while we ask him +never to allow their familiarity to let them seem less +precious. But to Mary, and to many who heard them +with her, they were new and wonderful as the glory of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>the sunrise in the eyes of one who has dwelt all his life +in a darksome cave. The love of the blessed Son of +God, and of the Father who sent him, sank to the very +depths of her heart. She believed that love was for her; +she received and embraced it, without so much as +staying to question whether this was indeed the faith +upon which the preacher insisted. For her the fiat had +gone forth, “Behold, I make all things new!” and peace +and joy took the place of the deep dejection which +before had threatened to overwhelm her. Lonely and +sorrowful, an “orphan of the earthly love and heavenly,” +had she come thither that morning; she returned home +with a happy, thankful heart,—God’s forgiven and accepted +child.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Nor was hers the only heart to which George Wishart +was made the messenger of peace that day. The great +reformer Knox, who loved and reverenced him deeply, +tells us that by this sermon “he raised up the hearts of +all that heard him, that they regardit not death, but +judgit thame mair happie that sould depairt, than sic +as sould remain behind.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And was not the joy of bringing this joy to thousands, +who otherwise would have lain in darkness and the +shadow of death, worth all he braved and all he suffered +for it? This was far more than the peril of infection; +inasmuch as the wrath of wicked men is more deadly +than the breath of disease, and as we have yet to learn, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>they gave him “cruel thanks” for his labours of self-devoted +love. Yet it is true that “he that reapeth +receiveth wages” here and now, as well as “gathereth +fruit into life eternal.” It does not need the heart of +a hero or a martyr, it only needs a little sense of the +value of one human soul, and a little love to Him who +died to redeem it, to enable the humblest Christian to +comprehend what that wages is, and to esteem such a +life as George Wishart’s, not only grander and nobler, +but actually <i>happier</i> than the most triumphant career +the lofty ambition of youth ever pictured forth in the +future.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_044.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_045.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>IV.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>Fruits of the Message.</span></h2> +</div> +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“The shadow had passed from her heart and brow,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And a deep calm filled her breast;</div> + <div class='line'>For the peace of God was her portion now,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And her weary soul found rest.”</div> + <div class='line in20'><cite>Lays of the Kirk and Covenant.</cite></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_045b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_047.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>IV.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>Fruits of the Message.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_047.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +The Duncans walked home from the East Port +in thoughtful silence, which Mary Wigton did +not feel inclined to disturb. Her own heart +was full of new strange feelings, which she could not as +yet understand or arrange; but they filled her with joy, +and with a love which seemed to pour itself forth on +every one around. She could not join in Janet’s lamentations +over the spare meal that awaited their return, for +was it not provided by that heavenly Father of whose +love she had just heard, and would he not send whatever +they really needed? To her it was a feast; and she +quietly enjoyed the luxury of a clandestine transfer of +more than half her own portion to poor Archie, who, +being a healthy, growing boy, suffered keenly from the +want of sufficient food.</p> + +<p class='c013'>At length they began to discuss the sermon; it was +little Effie, the youngest of the party, who introduced the +subject.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>“Didna yon man on the gate speak braw words o’ the +guid Lord Jesus’?” she said, addressing Jamie, who was +very fond of her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I didna ken ye were minding him, bairnie.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ou ay, I minded every word. I never heard the +like before.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There’s mair than you can say that, Effie, dear,” +added Mary, with a beaming face. “God be thankit +for thae guid words. Mony’s the sair heart they’ll hae +healed the day.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Weel,” said Janet, “I dinna think sae muckle on’t. +He seemed to jalouse we were a by-ordinar sinfu’ folk; +and, sae far as I ken, we’re nae waur than the lave. +What do you say, Jamie?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Thus directly appealed to, Jamie answered oracularly,—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He’s a braw preacher, Janet; but he’s a muckle +heretic.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Nor could he be induced to commit himself to any +more explicit opinion.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He manifested, however, an extraordinary desire to +hear the “muckle heretic” on every possible occasion. +When, a short time afterwards, he was fortunate enough +to be taken back by his former master, who set a high +value on his uprightness and industry, he announced the +fact to Janet with the following commentary—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It was no that easy to settle between maister and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>me; for he’s unco keen after the preaching himsel, and +didna like to leave the shop; but I gared him promise +to shut it up the while, though I hae tint<a id='r5'></a><a href='#f5' class='c014'><sup>[5]</sup></a> a trifle wages +thereby.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, Jamie lad, wasna that a silly thing, wi’ sae mony +mouths to fill, and the meal sae dear?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Tut, lassie, wad ye no let a man pleasure himsel +whiles?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And so not one of the very frequent preachings from +the East Port was missed by any of the Duncan family, +or by Mary Wigton. All loved to go, though from +different motives. Mary, as a new-born babe, desired +the sincere milk of the word, that she might grow +thereby. She was very ignorant, not only of the +doctrines of the Christian faith, but even of the great +facts that underlie those doctrines. She could not read; +and had she been able to do so, she had never so much +as seen any portion of the Word of God in her own +tongue. She was therefore entirely dependent, both for +instruction and edification, upon the sermons of Wishart; +and she valued those precious means of grace perhaps +more highly than those can conceive who are surrounded +with churches and Bibles, with Christian friends and +religious books. She soon learned that prayer was not +the vain repetition of words she could not understand, +but the lifting up of the heart to a reconciled God and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>Father; and she found the way into his presence opened +to her through the merits of Him in whom alone she +trusted. When perplexities arose in her path (and to +the thinking mind, whether educated or ignorant, they +surely will arise), she either prayed over them until they +vanished, or the preacher took them up and solved them +for her in one or other of his discourses. But she was +saved from many difficulties by the simple, childlike +faith with which she had been led to receive the word of +God, and in a lesser degree by the fact that religion had +previously been with her merely the sentiment of a +naturally devout and amiable character. She had not +been either deeply acquainted with, or strongly attached +to, the peculiar tenets of Popery; and she gave them up +almost without a struggle, when convinced, less by the +reformer’s eloquence than by the instincts of her own +renewed heart, that they were dishonouring to the +Saviour she loved.</p> + +<p class='c013'>With James Duncan it was far different. The battle +between the old faith and the new had to be fought out +step by step in his slow but thoughtful mind. The good +words of the gospel, its free invitations and promises of +mercy, seemed every day more suited to his need, and +more grateful to his longing heart. But he found that +this pure and lofty faith could not be made to harmonize +with the creed to which he was still so strongly attached. +In his soul, that which letteth would let, until it was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>taken out of the way. He was sometimes roused to +vigorous, even bitter opposition, by the preacher’s +powerful though temperate exposure of Romish superstition. +To the mass, to purgatory, to the invocation of +saints, he clung almost with the energy of a drowning +man; but he felt them, as it were, dragged one by one +from his unwilling hands by a moral force greater than +his own.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But no doctrine irritated him so much as that of justification +by faith only, which Wishart, who was lecturing +on the Epistle to the Romans, set forth with all the +power and clearness for which the reformers were so +peculiarly remarkable. Yet even when he was most +opposed to it there was a voice within him that witnessed +to its truth; and sometimes he was not very far from +suspecting that the secret of the peace he longed for lay +in the doctrine he despised.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As for Janet, the preaching did not, in the first instance, +either perplex her mind or touch her heart, but +it troubled her conscience. She did not hear it as a +bigoted Romanist, nor yet as a candid inquirer after the +truth, but as a sinner, who had hitherto lived in careless +security, without God in the world. She grew miserable, +and at one time would gladly have discontinued her +attendance; but she would not refuse to accompany her +brother, and besides she was herself not insensible to +the fascination which the preacher exercised. She could +<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>not speak of what she felt; and, fearing to betray herself, +she joined energetically in Jamie’s condemnation of his +heresies, while, in fact, she scarcely understood in what +they consisted.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The children loved to attend sermon almost as much +as their elders. Archie, while he remained utterly indifferent +to the doctrines taught by Wishart, contracted +a boy’s first enthusiasm for his person; and little Effie +always liked to go where she might hear “mair o’ the +guid Lord Jesus.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Upon one occasion Jamie returned from the East +Port in a state of more than usual apparent irritation, +but real doubt and perplexity. They had just heard a +very full and luminous exposition of the way of the sinner’s +acceptance before God.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s ill to ken what a man suld think,” he said. +“Naebody does what he preaches, or preaches what he +does. Maister Wishart and the priests are like enoo; +there’s nae muckle to choose between them.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What gars ye sae sic a thing?” asked Archie indignantly. +“Maister Wishart’s no like the priests; he +proves a’ he says, frae his wee book.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do ye no mind that the priests are aye and aye +telling us to do guid warks for our puir souls? And +they never do ane themsels that <i>I</i> hae seen; while +Maister Wishart, wha does a hantle guid warks himsel, +tells folk they’re nae manner o’ use.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>“Ye may weel say he does guid warks,” said Archie, +who preferred the concrete to the abstract, and was glad +to escape from a theological discussion to a matter of +fact. “A’ the toun says he does naething in the warld +(when he’s no preaching) but gang up and doun amang +the sick folk, wi’ neither fear nor care for his ain life, +telling them the guid words, and gieing them a’ the +comfort he can, for their puir bodies as weel as their +souls. I hae heard that whiles, when he’s got nae mair +siller, he’s gien his vera claes awa’.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Mair’s the wonner what he can be thinking on, to +tell us its nae use our doing warks ava’, and that we hae +nocht to do but just <i>believe</i>. It’s owre easy ganging to +heaven that gait.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye’re wrang, Jamie,” said Janet, turning suddenly +round on him. “It’s no easy ava’, but owre <i>hard</i>, the +way he puts it. Does he no say we maun love the Lord +better than father, or mither, or brither? an’ that we +maunna gie up his Word, aince we ken it in our hearts, +no, not to save our vera lives? It’s owre muckle that +for flesh and bluid, say I.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary, who had not spoken before, now quietly put in +a word.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay, Janet, ye’d be richt enoo, gin we had to do it +oursels. But the guid Lord wha loved us, and gied his +ain bluid for our sins, forbye a’ that, he gies us <i>the heart</i> +to do what he bids.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>“Then,” said Jamie quickly, “we maun do what He +bids, and no just believe and nae mair.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary was a little puzzled, not exactly for thoughts, +but for words in which to clothe them. At last she +said—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ane couldna believe and nae mair. Aebody wha +kens the guid Lord loved and forgave them, maun just +be trying the haill day lang to do bits o’ things by way +o’ thanks to him. But gin he didna make us free to the +love and forgieness <i>first</i>, what wad become of us ava’, +puir sinners that we are?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>She said this with much feeling; for it was with her +as with many others whose hearts are opened to receive +the word immediately and with gladness. Conviction +rather followed conversion than preceded it; and she +grew day by day, as well in the knowledge of her own sin +as in that of her Saviour’s grace.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She was about to leave the room, and Jamie asked +her whither she went.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But to the guidwife wha bides in the top back room. +Her wee bairnie’s vera ill the day.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“God grant it’s no the sickness.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Na, na; but she couldna gang to the preaching, sae +I hae promised to tell her the sermon.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nae harm in that,” said Janet. “But ye maunna +bide wi’ her the haill nicht, to help caring the bairn.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Did ye do that, Mary lass?” asked Jamie.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>“Ay, did she, twice over,” said Janet.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Weel, the puir thing was sair troubled and forfoughten. +And she has naebody to fend for her; her +guidman’s at the sea.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>When she was gone, Janet remarked to her brother—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Wad ye think, Jamie, it was the same lass that used +to sit at yon wheel a wee while ago, like a puir dead +thing, wi’ neither wish nor care for hersel or onybody +else?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie shook his head.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wonner,” he said, “how ane can keep sic’ a bricht +face and happy heart in the midst of a’ this fear and +trouble.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s naebut she frets hersel whiles, because she’s +sorning upon us, as she says.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hoot awa’!” cried Jamie indignantly. “Ye’re no +worth a plack, Janet woman, gin ye let the lassie think +<i>that</i>. She has brought us nought but comfort and +blessing.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That’s owre true, Jamie; forbye she’s unco quick +and handy in fending for the bairns, and sic’ like. Sin’ +the time she cheered up sae wonnerfu’ hersel, she’s no +had a thocht but to save and help us a’ she could. And +it’s clear she maun bide wi’ us, for she couldna find a +service the noo’, let her seek as she may.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie expressed his entire acquiescence, even more by +his looks than by his words.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>“Ony ither time idle folk might hae their clavers, ye +ken,” Janet added, with a little hesitation.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What care I for that?” said Jamie. “Not ane +bodle. Forbye, the hand o’ God is upon us; and the +folk wha he has brought thegither, to help and comfort +ane anither in this sair distress, maun just be thankfu’ +an’ bide as he pleases. Gin he send us better days—” +But here he stopped abruptly, either because he was a +man of few words, and had already said more than his +wont, or because some purpose was stirring in his heart, +to which as yet he did not choose to give words at all.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_056.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_057.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>V.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>More Fruits of the Message.</span></h2> +</div> +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“God took thee in his arms, a lamb untasked, untried;</div> + <div class='line'>He fought the fight for thee, He won the victory;—</div> + <div class='line'>And thou art sanctified.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_057b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_059.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>V.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>More Fruits of the Message.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_059.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +As day after day passed quietly on, the Duncans +began to hope, with trembling, that +they were destined to escape the sufferings +which surrounded them on every side. But they were +to enjoy no such happy immunity; the fiery trial had its +work to do for them as for others, and they must needs +pass through it. At first, however, it did not assume the +form they most dreaded, but one to which they were +already in some degree inured.</p> + +<p class='c013'>One morning Jamie returned from his master’s shop at +an unusual hour; coming in with his blue bonnet pulled +over his face, and his whole demeanour showing that +something was amiss.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Janet, who was giving Archie and Effie their “morning +pieces,” turned round, and uttered an exclamation of +surprise.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Maister dee’d this morn at the fourth hour,—God’s +guid will be done!” said Jamie, uncovering his head.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>“Wae’s me!” cried Janet, dropping her arms by her +side. “There’s our bread gane again.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Little Effie began to cry; and Archie, who would not +of course condescend to any such demonstration, certainly +looked mournful enough. Both well knew what it was to +want for bread.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We’re no waur than mony ither puir folk,” said Jamie. +“And we maun just thole<a id='r6'></a><a href='#f6' class='c014'><sup>[6]</sup></a> it as we may, and thank the +guid Lord wha hae keepit us frae the sickness.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s no true that we’re like the lave,” said Archie. +“Ither puir folk ’ill beg for bread and get it,—but the +Duncans never beg;” and the boy held up his head +proudly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Nor did he say more than the truth. The Duncans +had their faults; but they were brave and honest, as well +as strongly attached to each other. The noble struggle +made by James and Janet to keep the family together +after their father’s death, had developed and strengthened +these qualities. They had learned to endure privation +cheerfully, to practise self-denial for each other’s sakes; +and when things were at the worst, not to lose courage, +but to look hopefully for better days.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was now the time to put all these lessons into +practice. Not poverty alone, but starvation, seemed before +them. Most of the resources to which the poor betake +themselves in the day of need were cut off by the state +<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>of the city. Provisions were at famine price, so that +“mony people died with great scant and want of +victuallis.” Employment could not be had; nor was it +even easy to barter their clothes and furniture for food, +on account of the terror of infection which everywhere +prevailed. And yet they would not beg. Those who +survived to tell the tale in happier times, found it difficult +to understand how they lived on from day to day. +As Jamie said, “they tholed it as they might.” Each +spared the other, and Jamie, as far as possible, spared +them all. He was naturally somewhat of a despot, and +his circumstances had fostered this tendency. His +despotism now assumed the form of an obstinate determination +to bear the worst of every privation himself; +nor could Janet ever prevail on him to allow their scanty +provisions to be divided on the good old principle of +“share and share alike.” He always said he was a +man, and “the lassies and the bairns maun be thocht +on first.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He was much less irritable and impatient than he had +been when without employment on a former occasion. +This was partly perhaps because Archie tried him less. +The boy had a new interest now; and although not +deeply impressed by what he heard, he still preferred a +preaching at the East Port to a stolen game of play in +the streets, or a visit to the quays.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The same influence told, and in a greater degree, upon +<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>every other member of the family. No sudden change +took place in either Jamie or Janet; but both kept the +words they heard, and pondered them in their hearts. +What was more important, both prayed earnestly in +secret; Jamie asking for light that he might find the +Truth, while the burden of his sister’s cry was ever this, +“O Lord, I beseech thee, pardon mine iniquity, for it is +great.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was well for Mary Wigton that in this evil day her +heart stayed itself upon the Lord. It caused her bitter +grief to feel that she added daily to the privations of her +kind and generous friends. Much did she ponder, and +often did she pray that she might be shown some way +out of the difficulty. But what was she to do? She +could not, in the present state of things, hope to obtain +any employment; especially as she had not, except the +Duncans, a single friend in the city. Once or twice she +thought of applying to Wilson; but she felt she could +scarcely hope that a man who had treated her father +with so much injustice would prove a friend to her in +the time of need. Perhaps the idea would not even +have occurred to her, were it not that she had frequently +seen him amongst the crowd at the East Port, where he +seemed not only an attentive, but sometimes a deeply +affected listener. Still it did not appear to her that any +good was likely to result from an application to him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>One morning she succeeded, to her great satisfaction, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>in disposing of some little article of personal decoration, +a relic of more prosperous times. Having purchased a +loaf of bread, she brought it to the Duncans with a +pleasant anticipation of Archie and Effie’s delight. But +she had no sooner opened the door of their room than +she drew back in surprise and alarm. Jamie stood at the +window, shading his face with his hand. He did not +notice her, but Archie, who was beside him, turned +quickly round, and she saw that his eyes were red with +weeping. Janet was in another part of the room, bending +over Effie’s little bed. Before Mary could find breath +to ask what was amiss, Archie touched his brother’s arm, +and said softly, “It’s Mary.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>The young man started, and looked towards her, his +face pale and quivering with emotion. In another +moment he took her hand, led her from the room, and +gently closed the door.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Mary, lass,” he said, “we’re stricken vera sair. It’s +the bairn Effie, our youngest. Wae’s me! I didna think +o’ fearing for her.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Is it not often thus? Is not the keen arrow sure to +smite us through some “joint in the harness,” at some +point where we never thought of strengthening ourselves?</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is she vera ill?” asked Mary.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie shook his head. “I canna thole to part with +her,” he said presently. “She was the wee bairn o’ the +house, the bit plaything wi’ us a’. We fought through +<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>the hard times thegither, and kept her frae scaith and +sorrow as we could. An’ noo—just in ane day, wi’ this +cruel sickness—oh, Mary, it’s owre hard!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, Jamie, dinna say that. It’s the Lord sends +it. It’s his ain hand—‘His ain gentill visitation that +man cannot eke or paire,’<a id='r7'></a><a href='#f7' class='c014'><sup>[7]</sup></a> as guid Maister Wishart +says.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s the Lord sends it?” repeated Jamie, and he +raised his head and gazed upwards as one who earnestly +looks for something he cannot see. “Does the Lord +care about us ava’?” At another time he would not +have said this; but in that moment of agony the gnawing +doubt hidden far down in his heart rose to the surface, +and forced itself into words.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is it the blessed Lord Jesus wha dee’d for us? Jamie, +lad, he cares for us mair than we care for our ainsels. +He kens a’ about ye, and how loath ye are to part wi’ +the bairn; and maybe—” Here her own voice faltered, +but after a moment she resumed, “I maun gang in to +Janet.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Na, na! Dinna gae in—whaur’s the use?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, Jamie, ye wadna say that! Is it to bid me awa’, +and ye all in sic’ trouble?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie considered a moment, then opened the door. +“Be it sae,” he said. “For guid or ill we maun bide +thegither.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>Mary entered the sick room; and with that quiet self-possession +which in a sick room is such a treasure, she +spoke to Janet, and took counsel with her as to what +they should do.</p> + +<p class='c013'>A physician seemed unattainable; but many panaceas, +under the names of plague water, plague pills, plague +elixir, &c., were popularly believed in, and might be +purchased at a trifling expense. Most people maintained +the sovereign efficacy of some one or other of these, +nor was Janet any exception to the rule. She was very +anxious to procure her favourite remedy; and the remainder +of the sum obtained by Mary for her silver +brooch was appropriated to this purpose. Archie was +despatched to the shop, and it is needless to say he did +not linger upon this errand. But when he returned his +little playfellow no longer recognised him. Her mind, +like a shattered mirror, reflected only confused and +broken fragments of the experience of her young life. +She talked of merry games with Archie, of walks along +the heathery slopes of the Law, of easy household tasks +performed under Janet’s direction. But there ran through +all, like a silver thread through some dark pattern, words +of childlike trust in “the guid Lord Jesus, the blessed +Saviour.” Now and then it was a text of Scripture, or +some simple saying out of one of the sermons she +had heard, but oftener still the words were those of +prayer.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>At length there was a gleam of returning consciousness. +Seeing her favourite brother beside her, she asked +him to take her in his arms. Jamie did so, with a calm +face but a heavy heart, for by this time they all “perceived +that the Lord had called the child.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Effie, dear, do ye ken ye’re vera ill?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The child’s blue eyes sought his wistfully, perhaps +wonderingly. At last she said softly, “Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Are ye no fear’t, darling?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What for? The Lord Jesus ’ill take care o’ me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What gars ye think that, bairnie?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The minister tald me at the gate. The Lord Jesus +loves me. But I’m unco tired, Jamie.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>The blue eyes closed wearily, the little head rested +heavily upon Jamie’s shoulder; and it was not long +before the tired child slept—that deep and quiet +sleep from which they do not awake until the heavens +be no more. Many who remained might have envied +her that tranquil rest. “Short and narrow her life’s +walk” had been; but long enough, since in its brief +span she had found Christ, or rather, had been found of +Him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Type of a vast multitude whom in all ages the Good +Shepherd has carried in his bosom; so keeping them, +in his love and tenderness, that their feet do not touch +the waters of the dark river, nor their eyes even behold +the conflict and the anguish through which others have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>to pass. Theirs is the crown almost without the cross. +Thrice happy they! Yet happier still are those who +have come out of great tribulation, because more closely +conformed to the image of the Captain of their salvation, +and more highly privileged to work and to suffer for +Him.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_067.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_069.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>VI.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>The Darkest Hour.</span></h2> +</div> +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“The corpse is calm below our knee,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Its spirit bright before Thee;</div> + <div class='line'>Between them, worse than either, we,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Without the rest or glory,—</div> + <div class='line in16'>Be pitiful, O God!”</div> + <div class='line in28'><span class='sc'>E. B. Browning.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_069b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_071.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>VI.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>The Darkest Hour.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_071.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +On the following morning, the Duncans and +Mary Wigton sat together in the desolate +stillness that succeeds bereavement. Already +their dead had been buried out of their sight,—buried +hastily, by cold, unloving hands. Nor might they even +hope to visit the spot where she lay, for a common and +unhonoured grave must receive the victims of the pestilence. +This was one of the lesser sorrows in their cup. +For the most part they sat silent, neither weeping nor +speaking, but thinking sadly of what they had lost, and +trembling for what still remained to them. For now +that one link in the chain was broken, it seemed as if all +were loosened and ready to fall asunder.</p> + +<p class='c013'>They were very helpless in their time of trouble. If +they could have prayed together, if they had possessed +a copy of the Scriptures, it would have fared better with +them. But the Duncans were groping after comfort in +the dark; and even Mary, who knew more herself, was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>hardly able to explain her own convictions to others, and +shrank from the attempt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Archie was the first to suggest a thought of consolation. +“Effie ’ill no be hungry ony mair,” he said.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“True, callant,” answered Jamie; “and what for suld +we greet? It’s better far wi’ her than wi’ us the day.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But, Jamie,” said Janet, looking up with a puzzled, +half-frightened air, “what do you think about—purgatory?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hoot! Is it that wee bairn, and she to dee as she +did? I tell ye, I’d gie a hantle siller, gin I had the same, +for the lassie’s simple faith. Na, na, my mind is clear; +she’s wi’ the blessed saints this minute.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nay, but wi’ the guid Saviour she loved sae weel,” +said Mary. “Forbye, I’m unco sure there’s nae sic +place ava’ as purgatory. Gin the Lord were to send his +messenger for you or me the day, Janet (sae’s we +believed his Word), we’d gae right up to him; and neither +sin, nor death, nor Satan himsel, could keep us ane +minute from his presence.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Eh, but that’s guid tidings,” said Janet.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ower guid to be true,” added Jamie. “At least, +I’m no that certain yet. Though,” he continued after +a pause, “Maister Wishart does say, he has ‘oft and +divers times read ower the Bible, yet such a term fand +he never, nor yet any place of Scripture applicable +thereunto.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>“And do ye no mind the braw words he tells us about +the rest of God’s children, and the guid hame Christ is +keeping for them up in heaven?” said Mary. “It’s enoo +to make us lang to gae there oursels, and feel like +kneeling down to thank God for taking ane we love frae +this sad warld to that better place.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was a long silence, which Jamie broke. “It’s +a’maist time for the preaching.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Every one looked surprised, and Janet said, “Ye’re no +gaun the day, Jamie?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why suld we bide awa’? God’s hand is on us (his +voice trembled), we’re in sair trouble—is that a reason +we’re no to gang to the ane place on airth whaur we’re +like to get comfort?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’d a hantle rather gang than bide,” said Archie; +and as the rest appeared to agree with him, they began +to prepare.</p> + +<p class='c013'>All were soon ready except Jamie himself. After +rising to fetch his gown and bonnet, he sat down again, +looking very pale.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What’s wrang wi’ ye?” asked Janet, in a frightened +voice.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hoots! naething but a kind o’ dizziness. Dinna +look sae fear’t, lass.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Aiblins it’s the hunger. Ye havena broken fast the +day,” said Janet, having recourse to Mary’s loaf.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But he rejected the food, and asked for water instead. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>Archie ran to fetch it, and Jamie presently added, +“Gang to the preaching, and dinna mind me. I’ll try +to sleep.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But no one went to the preaching that day. Instead +of listening to the words of life, they sat in the chamber +of sickness, soon perhaps to be again the chamber of +death. For the fiery arrow of the pestilence had struck +down their best and noblest, the prop and stay of the +household. The morning had risen in gloom upon the +empty place of their youngest, the child Effie, but that +gloom seemed brightness itself compared with the horror +of the night.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Their hearts sank within them; from his first seizure +they gave him up for lost. Nor did he himself take a +more cheerful view of his condition. The attack differed +considerably from those they had witnessed before; +though it still presented certain unmistakable symptoms +marking it as the dreaded sickness. There was +no delirium, and but little acute suffering, but there was +a low wasting fever, and ever-increasing exhaustion. +There are cases, it has been said, “when a person has +so long and gradually imbibed the fatal poisons of an +infected atmosphere, that the resisting powers of nature +have been insidiously and quietly subdued.” Whether +Jamie’s was really such or no, it looked very like it. +It seemed as if his frame, weakened by a long course of +severe privation, must sink and that speedily, beneath +<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>the attack of the destroyer. Those around him longed, +more than words can tell, for the strong wine and +nourishing food that they felt instinctively might save +him even yet. But what could they do?</p> + +<p class='c013'>Janet’s courage and calmness gave way when she saw +this beloved brother about to be snatched from her. +Any other sorrow she could have borne,—but this +was too terrible. Once or twice the usually strong +self-possessed girl was obliged to leave Mary and +Archie to watch by that sick bed, whilst for a brief +space she sought relief in tears. Mary did all that +was required of her; and if she learned to conceal a +breaking heart beneath a countenance that was almost +cheerful, she did no more than many women do every +day. Yet Janet did not suffer more than Mary, perhaps +not so much. She never asked herself why this was so, +or whether it should be; it seemed quite natural and +inevitable. They were a family, bound together by the +strong links that sorrow forges, and what touched one +touched all equally.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is it you, Mary?” asked the sick man upon one +occasion when Mary kept watch beside him. “I hae +twa or three things that are vexing me sair, aiblins ye +could help me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Dinna vex yersel noo, Jamie; but think o’ the guid +Lord Jesus, wha dee’d to tak’ yer sins awa’.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Eh, but that’s just it, Mary lass. I ken a’ about the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>blessed Lord wha dee’d for sinners; but what’s that to +me, sae lang’s I’m no sure <i>I’ll</i> get the guid on’t? There’s +bread enoo at the baxter’s, but we maun jist starve for +a’ that, gin we’ve no a plack to pay for it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But He gies it to us, Jamie, ‘without money and +without price.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“<i>Wha</i> does He gie it to? O Mary! gin I couldna +think it out an’ I strong an’ weel, what chance hae I, +noo that I lie here weak and feckless, and canna put twa +thochts thegither? The Lord hae mercy on me! An’ I +had a priest—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That wad do ye nae guid ava’, Jamie.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Wae’s me! I ken the same. I hae dooted lang; +but noo I’m unco clear; they’re nae better than idle +paivies—the oil, and the cross, and sic’ like. But I +maun hae <i>something</i>, Mary. Death’s a gruesome thing +to look at, and I’m sair afear’t.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Dinna fear, look on the Saviour’s face. ‘Only +believe.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Very touching was Jamie’s wistful gaze of intense +anxiety. “Is it ‘Only believe,’ Mary? Can I mak +siccar there’s naething mair to do? Forbye, what’s the +right gait to believe?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“To believe is naething but to trust. It’s to trust the +guid Lord as I’d trust ye or Janet—(anely a hantle mair)—kenning +weel as I do that ye’d no wrang me, but keep +yer ain promise fast. Whilk promise frae God is just +<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>this, ‘I’ll forgie yer transgressions, and yer sins an’ +iniquities I’ll remember nae mair.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Mary, could ye pray for me?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary first lifted up her own heart in silent supplication; +and then said in a low voice, “I’ll try.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But at that moment Archie, who had stretched himself +in a corner of the room to make up for a lost night’s +rest, startled them both by showing he had heard the +conversation.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Eh, Jamie!” he cried, thrusting up his head, “<i>I’d</i> +do mair for ye than a’ that.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>As no one replied to this strange announcement, he +went on: “What for suld I no just gang to guid Maister +Wishart and ask him to come and see ye? Nae doot +but he’d do it, for the love o’ God; and he’d tell ye a’ +the things ye’re speiring after.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>This audacious proposal, as Mary considered it, fairly +took away her breath; while it brought a moment’s +colour to Jamie’s pale face. “Is it for the like o’ me?” +he said; “a puir baxter lad! Callant, ye’re clean daft.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’m no daft ava’. He gaes to waur than us, aft an’ +aft. Ye’re in trouble and hae the sickness—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And hae the sickness!” repeated Jamie indignantly. +“Guid reason <i>that</i> to bring him here! Na, na, Archie, +let me fend as I may, I’ll no hae the precious life that’s +help and comfort to sae mony risked for me. What +wad we a’ do without him? He’s just like ane licht in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>a dark sky to the puir folk in this stricken toun.” He +was growing excited, and might have injured himself, +had not Janet re-entered the room at that moment. +She looked pale and haggard; and when, at Jamie’s +request, she brought him a drink of water, she could not +help expressing her sorrow that she had nothing better +to give him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Weel,” said the sick man with a sigh half sorrowful, +half resigned, “we maun thole it. It’s no for sae lang.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Shortly afterwards he fell asleep, and Mary beckoned +Janet from the room, leaving Archie with his brother.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Janet,” she said, as they stood together in the +passage, “something maun be done.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I dinna ken what to do, but to dee a’ thegither,” +answered Janet, hopelessly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Let us dee, then, by God’s visitation, no by our ain +fecklessness. Janet, we’re like to starve, and Jamie—” +her voice faltered, but she presently resumed, “gin he +had the meat and drink a sick man suld hae, I doot but +he’s no that ill, after a’.—Listen, I hae seen my ain +dear father dee o’ this awfu’ sickness; forbye that, I hae +watched the bairn Effie. It’s no easy to mak me +fear’t, and ye say I’m gleg an’ handy. Sae I might find +a place to nurse some o’ the sick folk. Dinna think to +hinder me, Janet, my mind is set on it; I’ll just gang +my gait to the guid leech wha came to father, and ask +him to help me. An’ I daur think God ’ill prosper me, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>sin’ I hae prayed to him wi’ a’ my heart. I’ll bring, or send +ye help, the first minute I can. But dinna tell Jamie.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Janet at first objected to the plan, but Mary’s resolution +conquered. Weak herself from watching and fasting, +she set out on what her reason told her was a sufficiently +hopeless errand. But she trusted in God; and +having earnestly prayed for help in the dark hour of +trial, she believed he would give it, either by this or by +some other means.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Bitter, therefore, was her disappointment to find that +the physician whom she sought had himself fallen a +victim to the disease with which he had so bravely +striven on behalf of others. She sat down on the doorstep +to consider what next to do; and it was with difficulty +she could prevent herself from giving way to tears. +She knew no other physician even by name. To whom +then could she go? Again the thought of Wilson +occurred to her, and finding any sort of action a relief, +she rose half mechanically and moved in the direction +of his house. The walk was long enough, and she was +very weary. But it seemed as if her limbs must fail her +utterly, when, upon arriving at the spot, she found the +door shut, and inscribed with the well-known mark that +told the plague was within.</p> + +<p class='c013'>If ever she felt despair, it was at this moment. Why +should they struggle any more for life? It was useless—they +were doomed. Like the wave to a shipwrecked +<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>mariner, clinging desperately, hopelessly to some fragment +of rock—that cruel sickness, with its fell ally +starvation, came on slowly—surely—nearer—nearer—nearer. +It was but the work of days, perhaps of hours +now. Death reigned everywhere. Her father, little +Effie, the physician, all were dead; Wilson was probably +dying, and Jamie;—a chill came over her. Should she +ever see his face again, that bright young face, except +fixed in the awful stillness of death? She scarcely +dared to return home. And yet she must. She began +to grow dizzy and faint, and to think, almost to <i>hope</i>, +that she was dying too. She thanked God that for herself +she had no fear. And she sought to trust him with +those so dear to her; but it was one of those dark hours +when Faith droops her pinions, and the tried heart sinks +to the very depths, refusing to respond even to the holy +thoughts upon which in other seasons it was wont to +stay itself.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Once or twice she paused on her weary homeward +way, as the last resource of penury presented itself to +her mind. Should she ask an alms? Her cheek crimsoned +with pain and shame at the thought, but for +Jamie’s sake she could conquer this weakness. Still, +amongst the passers-by she saw none to whom she could +apply for the purpose, so at least it seemed to her; and +she had not the physical strength to go further.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Thus, at last, having accomplished nothing to help +<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>those she loved in their sore distress, she found herself +again at the familiar door. She was able to admit herself; +and after standing still for a moment or two in +silent dread of what she might meet above, she began +to ascend the narrow staircase with trembling limbs and +an aching heart.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She had not gone half way when the sound of a voice +arrested her. It was Archie’s. Great was her astonishment +at the quiet measured tones in which the boy +continued to speak. No; he was not speaking, but +reading or reciting something. She drew a few steps +nearer, and found she could distinguish the words. +They thrilled her heart with a strange sense of wonder +and delight; for although she had never heard them +before, she felt instinctively that they were the words +of God. Allowing for the difference (here but very +slight) between the quaint language of Tyndale’s New +Testament, and that into which our own minds and +hearts have grown, this was what she heard:—“Seek +not ye what ye shall eat or what ye shall drink, neither +be ye of doubtful mind. For all these things do the +nations of the world seek after: and your Father knoweth +that ye have need of these things. But rather seek ye +the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be +added unto you. Fear not, little flock; for it is your +Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary’s soul was refreshed by this cup of cold water +<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>from the living fountain, and hope began to take the +place of her despondency. She was soon at the chamber +door. It was wide open; and, for a marvel, so was the +little window (despite all Janet’s theories), letting in an +evening breeze laden with pleasant messages from the +fresh and open sea. But then there was also a fire, +before which Janet was standing, busy with some cooking +operation. Best of all, Jamie, whose face was turned +towards her, was sitting propped up in his bed, a faint +flush, not from fever, in his cheek, and a look of earnest +living interest in his face, as he listened to Archie’s reading. +He was the first to perceive Mary, and he cried +out, “Come ben, Mary lass, and praise the guid Lord +wi’ us! He <i>hae</i> cared for us, after a’.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Come an’ tak’ yer supper,” said Janet, “ye maun be +amaist starved.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Archie at the same moment laid down his book, and +exclaimed with characteristic vehemence, “We’re a’ +richt noo, Mary! Our Jamie’s no to dee, but to live!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But Mary, instead of responding to these joyful +words, threw herself upon the nearest seat; and, worn +out with sorrow, fatigue, and excitement, wept long and +unrestrainedly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Who dreams that tears are the saddest things on +earth? Sorrow has often failed to bring them, when the +gentle summons of joy and hope has called them forth +from their hidden cells.</p> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_083.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>VII.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>New Friends and Old.</span></h2> +</div> +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Oh! are not meetings in this world of change</div> + <div class='line'>Sadder than partings oft?”</div> + <div class='line in28'><span class='sc'>Hemans.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_083b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_085.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>VII.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>New Friends and Old.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_085.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +It was some time before Mary could obtain +any distinct idea of what had taken place in +her absence. Janet and Archie, so eager to +tell all that they were in danger of telling nothing clearly, +talked together, and nearly drowned each other’s voices. +At last, however, Jamie found opportunity to put in a +word. Taking the New Testament in his hands, he said +reverently, “Thank God for his guidness to me and +mine the day. He hae sent his ain dear servant to +speak the words my soul langed for, and to set my feet +on the rock. We were no worthy o’ the like, and we +didna think on’t.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“<i>Wha</i> has been here?” asked Mary, with a bewildered +look.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Mary!” cried Archie, “I hae telled ye thae ten +times—just Maister Wishart himsel!”<a id='r8'></a><a href='#f8' class='c014'><sup>[8]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>And then by degrees they told Mary all that had +happened. It was a very simple story, and not in the +least wonderful, though they were disposed to think far +otherwise. The minister of Christ who spent his days +in such labours of love, and in whose eyes the soul of +the poor man was as precious as that of the rich, had +heard of the Duncans from some neighbour whom he +chanced to visit. For although in more prosperous +times the family had rather the reputation of “hauding +their heads high,” and “keeping theirsels to theirsels,” +they were generally respected, as those are sure to be +who in difficult circumstances “learn and labour truly to +get their own living,” making no complaint and asking +no help. When Effie’s death became known, people +gave them a passing sigh of pity; but the sorrow seemed +a light one in comparison with that of so many others. +It was different when the tidings, “Our Jamie’s down +wi’ the sickness,” came from Archie’s lips, as he stood at +the window to answer some neighbourly inquiry from +the street. Every one knew what that eldest brother +<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>had been to the family; and men shook their heads +mournfully as they acknowledged that “the puir Duncans +were in sair trouble—God help them!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>The servant of Christ was thus furnished with the +only motive he ever needed for going anywhere, the +motive that had brought him from the midst of his +honoured successful ministry in Ayrshire back to plague-stricken +Dundee—“They are now in trouble, and need +comfort.” To enter the humble dwelling, to take his +seat by Jamie’s bedside, and in simple language suited +to his need and his weakness to offer him the precious +consolations of the gospel—this was easily done. But +then the sick man had perplexities to solve, and doubts +to set at rest. “It was that easy to speak to him, just +as it is to yer ain sel, Mary,” he said afterwards. Nor +was this wonderful, from the peculiar grace and gentleness +which everything that has come down to us of +George Wishart leads us to attribute to him. One who +watched him closely describes him as “courteous, lowly, +lovely,” in his intercourse with others. There must have +been fine elements of natural character; but independently +of these, men who live very near to Christ +not seldom learn to deal with their fellow-men in a +loving, tender, self-forgetting spirit. One by one Jamie’s +difficulties, like shadows, fled away before the light of +the Word of God, patiently and skilfully brought to bear +upon every dark perplexing point. Power was given +<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>him from above to receive and embrace the truths thus +clearly set before him; and with a heart eased of its +heavy burdens, he was able to tell the minister (who +talked not <i>to</i> him alone, but <i>with</i> him) of the death of +their little sister. They ventured to ask him some of +those questions which are so dear to every bereaved +heart—where and what was their lost one now?—were +they not right in thinking she was at rest, was happy?</p> + +<p class='c013'>Wishart told them in reply, that if any one “had +begone to have the faith of Jesus Christ,” as had their +sister, his or her soul “shall never sleape, bot ever shall +leve ane immortal lyef; the which lyef from day to day +is renewed in grace and augmented; nor yett shall ever +perish, or have ane end, bot shall ever leve immortal +with Christ thare Head. To the which lyef all that +beleve in him shall come, and rest in eternal glorie.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Prayer followed, such prayer as could only be offered +by one who habitually talked more with God than with +man. Was the minister’s work done then? Enough +was done to fill at least three hearts with grateful love, +and to leave with them a hallowed memory that should +last long, long after—what we must not now anticipate;—but +there soon came a day from which this day could +not be looked back upon except through blinding, +burning tears.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Another duty however remained, and one in which +he especially delighted. They had not confessed their +<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>necessities, nor would they have done so, but it needed +not to be, as he was, “maist scharp of eye and judgment” +to perceive what was amiss. The bare unfurnished +room told its own story, as did also the pale and +sharpened features of the inmates. He gave what they +needed; and in a way that made it, if more blessed to +give, at least blessed also to receive—for much of this is +in the giver’s power. He spoke words of hope and +cheer, for he guessed rightly that the supply of the sick +man’s wants would go far towards ensuring his recovery; +he gave Jamie the Testament out of which he had read +to him, knowing that the book could not easily be +procured elsewhere; and then he took his leave “as +tho’ we’d been a’ braw gentlefolk like himsel,” as the +delighted Archie afterwards declared.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary heard all this, and much more in the shape of +blessings invoked by grateful hearts upon the good +minister, with much wonder and thankfulness. It was +impossible not to regret that she had been absent; but +since every step of her way, even the smallest, was +ordered by One who thought and cared for her, she +knew that this also must be right. And the quiet depth +of that love and reverence with which she regarded the +man who had been the messenger of God’s mercy to her +soul, could scarcely have been increased by standing +face to face with him in a room, and touching his hand +with hers.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>“Weel,” said Jamie, “it’s no to look for that we’ll +ever see his face again, ony o’ us, forbye at the preaching. +But here’s the Testament—the vera Word o’ God! +Is no that wonnerfu’?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Let me hand it in my ain hand, Jamie,” said Mary.</p> + +<p class='c013'>No one that reads these pages will be able to understand +from experience what Mary felt as, loving Christ +more than her life, she held in her hand for the first +time the Book that contains the words of Christ. Day +by day she had gone with eager willing footsteps for +draughts from that fountain; and now, behold! the +fountain was hers, was theirs, to draw from whenever +they would. She raised the Book to her lips and +kissed it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’m to read it for ye a’,” said Archie, for the first +time in his life proud of his scholarship.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’m nae but a puir scholar,” added Jamie, “but +ainst I’m weel again, I’ll try hard to learn; and then, +Mary, I’ll teach you and Janet.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Janet, on hearing him speak with such confidence of +his own recovery, exchanged glances of satisfaction with +Mary, and shortly afterwards remarked: “The first +words we heard Maister Wishart say, the day ye gar’d +us a’ gang to the Cowgate, Mary, will we or nill we, was +just this, ‘It’s nae herb nor plaister, but God’s Word +that heals the folk,’ an’ I’m thinking it’s owre true.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Yes; the worst was over now. The sunshine of that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>day abode with the Duncans. By the aid of that best +medicine, a happy because a trustful heart, Jamie +recovered surely though slowly. No other member of +the family took the sickness; and when the minister’s +gift was exhausted, other friends (perhaps through a hint +from <i>him</i>) were raised up to supply their necessities. +For the preacher of righteousness by faith had provoked +men everywhere to love and good works. “The toune +was wonderouse beneficiall;” and the rich were becoming +day by day not only more willing to impart to +the poor, but more active and self-denying in searching +out those cases of distress which are all the more worthy +of succour because carefully hidden from the public +eye.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie was not yet able to leave his bed, when one +evening, as they were all together listening to Archie, +who was reading aloud from the Testament, some one +knocked at the street door. Archie put down the book, +and ran to open it, speedily returning with the tidings, +“Yon’s a gentleman speiring after Mary Wigton.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Did ye tell him the sickness was here, callant?” +asked Jamie.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He had his een,”<a id='r9'></a><a href='#f9' class='c014'><sup>[9]</sup></a> returned Archie, “sae he micht +hae seen the mark. But he gaed richt into the first +room on the left han’ side, asking nae leave o’ me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary knew that was the room where her father died. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>She could scarcely tell why, but she felt a shade of +apprehension as she silently went down to meet the +stranger.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She soon found herself face to face with a well-dressed +man, who looked about forty years of age, though he +was in reality ten years younger. He was pale, and had +dark rings about his eyes, which were large and mournful, +indeed almost wild in their expression, and certainly the +most striking features of a face otherwise not prepossessing. +His forehead was high but narrow, his lips +were large and full, and his whole countenance had an +anxious, restless look.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary courtesied, and asked, “Is it me ye were +wanting, sir?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do ye no mind me, Mary? I’m yer brother, John +Wigton,” said the stranger, taking her in his arms and +embracing her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>For a moment she shrank back half frightened. +Could this be the brother from whom she parted, as a +little child, so long, long ago? She only remembered +him a bright, noble-looking young lad; could this man +of middle age, with that sallow, care-worn face, be really +John Wigton? And again, could he be Sir John Wigton, +the priest? If so, where was his priest’s frock? Almost +before she was aware of it, this question had passed +her lips.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nae matter o’ that,” was the reply. “Do ye no +<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>ken a kirkman may lay it by when his superiors order +the same, as mine hae done me?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, but, John, hae ye heard that father’s dead?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>A look of hard repressed sorrow passed over Wigton’s +face as he answered briefly, “Ay.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He askit for ye, John, a’maist wi’ his last breath. +His word was aye and aye, ‘Whaur’s our John?’ Wae’s +me! why did ye no come to us before?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I couldna, lassie,” he said, his voice trembling a +little. “And noo, I hae searched the haill town through +to find ye.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Wha telled ye I was here?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Sin’ I left St. Andrews meaning to come here, I hae +been at the auld farm.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then ye didna come here o’ purpose to speir after +<i>us</i>,” said Mary, in some surprise. “What gar’d ye come +to sic’ a place ava’, gin it wasna for that? Did ye no +hear o’ the sickness?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’m a servant o’ Holy Kirk, Mary; and I daur gae +<i>onywhaur</i>, were it into the vera jaws o’ death, to do my +duty by the same.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary thought this was certainly a noble sentiment, +and one which Wishart would approve; though at the +same time it occurred to her that <i>he</i> had never said so +much for himself, while he acted upon the principle +every day.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Wigton presently resumed: “Forbye, whaur the deil’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>ain children are no fear’t to gang upon their father’s evil +wark, guid men and true suldna shrink frae following +them.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I didna ken we had ony sic’ wicked folk amang us,” +said Mary, with a puzzled look.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Atweel, never mind that. Tell me—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Of our puir father and mither. Oh, ay—but ye suld +hae been wi’ us, John.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Wigton, who had seated himself, now rose and turned +his face away. After a few moments he said, “Dinna +talk o’ them. No the nicht. Tell me o’ yersel. Wha +has fended for ye sin’ ye’ve been left yer lane?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary told him of the kindness she had experienced +from the Duncans, admitting however that they had +endured many hardships together, and been in great +want. Her brother warmly expressed his regret that +such should have been the case, adding, “Ye’ll no hae +that to say ony mair, lassie. I hae siller enoo’ for baith, +and to spare.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>In proof of his assertion, he drew out a purse certainly +much heavier than that which had so lately relieved their +necessities, and took from it several pieces of gold.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary’s eyes sparkled. For herself, having food and +raiment, although of the humblest kind, she was more +than content; but she could not help rejoicing at the +thought of having wherewith to assist those kind and +self-denying friends who had done so much for her.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>“Jamie and Janet hae mony a time gone hungry +theirsels that I might share the bit bread,” she said. +“An’ it’s blythe I’d be to bring them thae broad pieces +the nicht.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Sae ye sall,” answered John. “’Twas for you and +father I took the gowd; and noo, I’ve naebody but +yersel to share it wi’.” After a pause he added, “Can +I bide here?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There’s naething to hinder but fear o’ the sickness. +Sin’ father dee’d here (John Wigton started), naebody +daured tak’ the room.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Was it <i>here</i>, in this room, then?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay, in this vera room. There he lay, calling for +you, John, and moaning like, because he couldna get a +priest.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That was awfu’,” said John, growing very pale.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, John, it a’maist broke my heart to think on’t. +I daurna tell ye a’ the gruesome, fearfu’ thochts I used +to hae. But God be thanked, a’ that’s by lang syne.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Her brother did not answer; he may not even have +heard her. He was sitting with his head buried in his +hands, absorbed in bitter reflection. For the thought of +his father’s death, without priest or sacrament (as he +would have expressed it), was more terrible to him than +it had ever been even to Mary.</p> + +<p class='c013'>After a while, his sister returned to the subject upon +which they had been speaking. “Ye could hae a room +<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>upstairs, John, and there wadna be sae muckle risk in’t. +There’s naebody in the haill land noo but guidwife +Brown and—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Brown!” repeated Wigton, rousing himself. “It +was thanks to her guidman, I fand ye ava’.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He’s but just hame frae the sea,” said Mary.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay; I forgathered wi’ him at the tavern whaur I +dined. We talked thegither, and as seamen use, he was +by-ordinar free, and willing to tell me a’ his matters. +His guidwife, he said, had been sair troubled wi’ the +sickness o’ her bairn; but he couldna say enoo’ o’ the +kindness o’ a lassie—ane Mary Wigton—wha bided in +the same land.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“’Twasna sae muckle what I did for her, puir thing,” +said Mary. “Still, I’m unco blythe ye fand me, John. +But I daurna bring ye to the Duncans, seeing Jamie’s +no weel yet.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Did ye tell them ye had a brither a priest?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, ay; I hae telled them that.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then ye maunna say I’m yer brither, Mary.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What for?” asked Mary, evidently distressed.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It doesna look sae weel for a priest to gang without +his frock; forbye there are reasons. Ye can just say +I’m a friend.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary shook her head. “I maun say what’s true,” +she answered.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Weel, say a kinsman. Nae doot but that’s true.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>With this compromise Mary, who hated unnecessary +mysteries, was obliged, though reluctantly, to content +herself for the present. At her brother’s request she +left him alone for the night in the room where his father +died, having first tried in vain to induce him to seek +quarters where he would be less exposed to the danger +of infection. Taking with her the gold he had given, +she returned to the Duncans, told them as much as she +was permitted to do, and in all simplicity and with the +freedom of a sister gave the money into Janet’s keeping +for the family use.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The supply was very seasonable, though Jamie +scrupled to accept of it. But had they known from +whose hands it came, and how it was obtained, not +Jamie alone, but Mary herself, Janet, and most certainly +Archie, would have died of absolute starvation rather +than have touched it.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_097.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_099.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>VIII.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>The Cardinal’s Missionary.</span></h2> +</div> +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“The blood-thirsty hate the upright; but the just seek his soul.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_099b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_101.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>VIII.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>The Cardinal’s Missionary.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_101.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +The next morning Mary saw her brother again. +First interviews between relatives or friends +who have been long parted are almost +always unsatisfactory. It is neither the things of most +importance, nor those nearest the hearts of the speakers +that rise to the lips; the waters are as yet too much +troubled; they must have time to settle ere their depths +become visible. But after the night (though that night +had been sleepless to both, and to one very miserable), +they talked more at their ease. John Wigton was most +incommunicative about everything that concerned himself; +but he seemed really anxious to hear every particular +about his family. He had previously learned +the fact of his mother’s death, but little more than this. +Mary therefore began her story at this point, and then +told of the relinquishment of their farm, of the journey +to Dundee, and the hardships endured since their arrival +there. The narrative of her father’s death naturally +<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>followed, and was given much more at large than on the +preceding evening. John heard it almost in silence; +but he looked very sad, and now and then he sighed +heavily. Perhaps conscience was at work within him, +whispering that if he had done his duty, and honoured +his father and mother according to God’s commandment, +all this sorrow need not have been. But John +Wigton’s conscience could not, in the present state of +things, be greatly relied upon. Not that it was by any +means silent or dead; on the contrary, it was in continual +active exercise; but, like a chronometer wrongly +set, it was regulated upon such false principles that +every beat tended only to mislead.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Seeing him so much cast down, Mary essayed to +speak some words of comfort. “Ye ken, John,” she +said, “gin a hantle priests had been wi’ my puir father, +they wadna hae done him muckle guid. When I kenned +that mysel, my ain heart grew lichter. An’ oh, but a’ +the weary burdens were taken aff me for aye and aye, +aince I learned that the blessed Lord loved me, and +cared for me. Sin’ that wonnerfu’ sermon o’ Maister +Wishart’s—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“<i>What!</i>” interrupted Wigton, with a start. “Ye hae +heard <i>him</i>?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That I hae, and blessed God for the same. Wae’s +me, what ails ye, John?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was no wonder she asked, for John Wigton’s face +<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>was white to the lips, and his eyes were gleaming with +passion.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“This is waur than my puir father deeing like a +dog, but shrift or housel. Lass, lass! yer soul‘ll be +lost for aye an’ aye. Do ye believe his abominable +heresies?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Although pale and trembling at this outburst of rage, +Mary answered bravely, “I believe that he speaks the +true word o’ God, whase servant he is.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He’s no God’s servant; he’s the devil’s ain—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Whisht!” said Mary, laying her hand on his lips, +and speaking in a tone almost of authority, “Ye sallna +say thae wicked words in my hearing. It’s no that ye +can hurt or harm God’s dear servant, but ye’ll sair hurt +yer ain soul.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How lang may it be sin’ ye hae been ta’en wi’ thae +fooleries?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“They’re nae fooleries, brother. Is it foolery, think +ye, to ken for sure that the guid Saviour dee’d for me, +to hae a’ my sins forgien?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Haud yer clavers!” interrupted John Wigton, +angrily. “It’s no sae easy, the forgieness o’ sins. I tell +ye, lass, there hae been blessed saints whase shoon the +like o’ you and me are no worthy to unloose, wha hae +toiled, and tholed, and striven their haill lives lang, and +after a’ hae been no sure, no <i>that</i> sure. And noo, forsooth, +lads and lasses wha canna read or write, daur to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>prate o’ the forgiveness o’ sins, a’ because a leeing, thieving +loon—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary rose with a crimsoned cheek, and walked towards +the door.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Angry as he was, John Wigton perceived that if he +desired to be heard to the end, he must use different +language. “Weel,” he said with a sneer, “because +Maister George Wishart tells them a hantle lees and +clashes out o’ his ain head. What’s <i>he</i>, that folk suld +tak’ his word before that o’ my Lord Cardinal, and the +Bishops, and the Doctors, and Holy Kirk hersel?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s no <i>his</i> word, John, it’s the Lord’s.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hoot awa’! But there’s ane comfort, ye’ll no hear +the like aft again, I wad ye.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary now looked not only distressed but alarmed. +“What gars ye say that?” she asked. “It’s nae manner +o’ use for the Cardinal or the Governor to bid Maister +Wishart awa’, as they did aince before, for noo the townfolk’ll +a’ stan’ by him like ane man. They a’maist worship +the ground he walks on; and that’s no wonnerfu’.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Wigton’s pale face grew a shade paler, and he compressed +his lips firmly. Could Mary have read his +secret thoughts she would have been profoundly astonished. +He was balancing <i>his own</i> chances of martyrdom, +and arming himself with courage to meet them.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She broke the silence at last with the very pertinent +question, “Hae ye ever heard him yersel?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>“Me? Na; thank the saints. And hark ye here, +Mary. Gin you and I are to be brither and sister, +<i>friends</i> and no faes and strangers, ye maun gie yer word +to me this vera hour that ye’ll no gang ony mair to that +heretic’s preaching. Will ye dae that?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’ll dee first,” answered Mary, very quietly. But +there looked out from her soft brown eyes a soul as +strong and more resolved than that of John Wigton.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He gazed at her for a moment or two, and then said +bitterly, “I hae said my say. God’s malison and mine +I gie the traitor wha hae driven ye daft wi’ his clavers, +ye silly lass!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He turned, and was about to leave the room, but +Mary stopped him. “Bide a wee, John Wigton,” +she said. “It’s unco ill to thole that my ane brither +suld come back to me after a’ these years, naebut to say +thae cruel, bitter words. Wi’ father’s an’ mither’s twa +graves between us, it micht hae been different. But this +maun be <i>the cross</i> that Maister Wishart talks of—God +help me to bear it patiently. Atweel, John, it’s no <i>that</i> +gars me speak. Sma’ matter for me, but muckle for yer +ain puir soul, gin ye put the word o’ God frae ye. Dinna +mind what silly folk hae telled ye, but use yer ain een, +and the guid wit God gied ye. Is it to look for, think +ye, that a man wha hae put the dear life in his hand, and +come amang us at sic a time, like God’s ain blessed +angel, suld be what you daur call him, though <i>I</i> daurna +<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>speak the word? Wha hae said, ‘By their fruits ye sall +ken them?’ And did ye ever see sic’ fruit as that grow +on ony tree <i>He</i> hasna planted?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Satan himsel can tak’ the likeness of an angel o’ +licht,” answered John Wigton. No words that human +lips can utter sound as mournful as the words of Scripture +when quoted thus.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’m no asking ye to trust what ye havena heard and +sifted,” answered Mary. “But I think that when a +man hae <i>done</i> like Maister Wishart, ither folk are bound +at least to hear what he has got to say. Gang to the +Cowgate yersel, hear his doctrine, and pray God to show +ye the truth.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’m content wi’ the truth o’ Holy Kirk,” said Wigton +in reply, and with these words they parted.</p> + +<p class='c013'>How often it happens that the thing we most earnestly +desire, when at last we obtain it, wears an aspect so +different from all we anticipated, is in such dark sad +contrast to our brilliant hopes, that the desire accomplished, +instead of sweetness, proves very bitterness to +the soul. As in the fabled fairy gifts, the silver sheen +changes into dust, the glory has departed. Mary had +longed for that lost brother, had wept and prayed for +his return through years of anxiety and sorrow. Not +alone from her dying father’s couch had that sad cry, +“Where’s our John?” re-echoed and found no answer. +Night and day, and often with bitter tears, had the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>same question been asked, first by the motherless, then +by the wholly orphaned girl. There is something very +sorrowful in being left in early youth without any near +household ties. And although He that setteth the +solitary in families had dealt with Mary in fatherly pity, +there was still a waste and desolate place in her heart +that no one save the brother of her childhood could fill.</p> + +<p class='c013'>That brother had returned, but only to cast scorn on +what she most loved and revered, and to demand from +her, as the price of his affection, the renunciation of +what was dearer to her than life itself. If tears were +mingled with her prayers that night, was it any marvel?</p> + +<p class='c013'>But her distress, keen though it was, was happiness +compared with the anguish her brother was enduring. +For the fire of fanaticism, a fire kindled from beneath +and not from above, burned and tortured the heart +upon which it fed. They had the greater sin who had +worked upon the sensibilities of an awakened conscience, +and an excitable nervous organization. In +that condition of mind and body which was the natural +result of years of mental distress, physical suffering, and +intense and continued excitement, and which might +not improbably have been the precursor of insanity, +John Wigton had fallen into the hands of remorseless +designing men, who, being by no means fanatics +themselves, knew how to use a fanatic to the best +advantage. Whatever his capabilities or endowments +<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>may or may not be, a man who, for any reason, has +learned to despise death, always possesses a kind of +strength which other men have not. It was probably +the fact that he had no objection to the honours of +martyrdom, that recommended “Schir John Wighton, +a desperat preast,” to the notice and employment of a +personage of very different character, David Beaton, +Cardinal and Archbishop of St. Andrews.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Great and signal service to be done to the Holy +Catholic Church, full pardon at last for all his sins, and +immortal renown and glory, these chiefly were the allurements +that baited the hook. But alas for the melancholy +inconsistencies of human nature! The man who +could feel the power of these motives was at the same +time not above taking gold in payment for a deed of +blood. For, on the one hand, fanaticism does not expel +the sordid passions of our nature; nor had it, on the +other, succeeded in stifling every sentiment of affection +in the heart of John Wigton. He hoped to atone for +his past neglect by making ample provision for his father +and young sister; and he thought himself the rather at +liberty to do this, since he was about to perform an act +of such exceptional virtue that its merit might well obtain +an indulgence for greater weaknesses than those of filial +and fraternal affection. So thoroughly had he learned to +put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The unhappy man had in an evil hour undertaken +<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>a cruel and a perilous task. Beneath the gown for +which he had exchanged his priest’s frock, he bore a +sharp new dagger, which he had sworn to sheathe in +the heart that had brought so much help and comfort to +Dundee. Such were the convincing arguments Cardinal +Beaton employed to silence obstinate heretics like George +Wishart.</p> + +<p class='c013'>And this is “an owre true tale.” There is no room +for the so-called liberality of the present day to accuse +us of libelling our adversaries, and drawing from a heated +fancy pictures of crimes never committed, in order to +calumniate the characters of men whose opinions we +detest. Those who accuse Protestant writers of doing +this are recommended, if their nerves will bear it, to +study for themselves the history of past ages in contemporary +records. They will probably rise from the +study sadder and wiser, and in a temper to comprehend +that sublime burst of angelic thanksgiving, “Thou +art righteous, O Lord, which art, and wast, and shalt be, +because thou hast judged thus. For they have shed the +blood of saints and prophets, and thou hast given them +blood to drink; for they are worthy.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>They who know the depths of Satan, as exemplified +in the history of the Romish apostasy, will respond from +full hearts, Amen and Amen!</p> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_111.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>IX.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>How the Mission Sped.</span></h2> +</div> +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“’Tis sweet to stammer one letter,</div> + <div class='line'>From the Eternal’s language; on earth it is called Forgiveness.”</div> + <div class='line in48'><span class='sc'>Longfellow.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_111b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_113.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>IX.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>How the Mission Sped.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_113.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +Without exactly fulfilling his threat of becoming +to his only sister as a stranger or an +enemy, John Wigton withdrew himself almost +entirely from her society. He took up his quarters in a +different lodging, and only came to see her upon two or +three occasions for a short time. Nor were these visits +productive of much enjoyment to either party; for controversy +was sure to arise between them, and then the +brother became violent, and the sister sorrowful though +steadfast. It added to her grief that she could not help +perceiving he was very unhappy, while she felt utterly +unable either to aid or to comfort him. She tried once +or twice to induce him to speak of himself, and to tell +her where he had spent the past years, what he had been +doing, and what he intended to do in future. But he +repelled, in an irritable and impatient manner, every effort +to win his confidence; until at last the poor girl, thus +prohibited from inquiring into what might interest <i>him</i>, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>and dreading the mention of what interested herself for +fear of raising a storm, was almost reduced to silence. +Above all, she sedulously avoided any allusion to Wishart, +as the name she most venerated seemed to awaken in +his mind a fierce and bitter hatred that filled her with +anguish and alarm. Thus it happened that she never +told him of the minister’s seasonable visit to the Duncans. +Nor was this perhaps to be greatly regretted. The circumstance +that the man he intended to kill had saved +his sister from perishing of want, would not probably +have either softened the assassin’s feelings or altered his +purpose. In his present temper of mind, John Wigton +would have regarded the heretic’s good offices in the +light of injuries and insults, intended to beguile and +calculated to degrade those who accepted of them.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Upon one occasion, however, he himself opened the +forbidden subject by asking abruptly, “Are ye bound for +the heretic preaching the morn, Mary?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>She answered quietly, “Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Dinna gang, lassie,” said John, in a tone rather of +entreaty than of command.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The kindness of his manner touched her, and she +answered, “I’m sair vexed ye dinna like it, John, but I +maun gang whaur I hear o’ my Saviour Christ.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye hae gone aft and aft, can ye no bide at hame, +just for aince!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary shook her head; the matter was not only one +<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>of inclination but of principle with her. She did not +think she would be doing the will of her Lord in forsaking +the assembling together of those that loved his name, +and forfeiting even one of her precious opportunities of +hearing more about him. Who could tell how long those +opportunities might be granted, since the sword of the +pestilence was still suspended over the heads of both +minister and people? She therefore steadily refused +to grant her brother’s request, that only this once, for +his sake, she would absent herself from the preaching. +She expected a burst of passion, but this time John +Wigton exercised unusual self-control, merely saying, +“Weel, gang yer ain gait. It’s naebut for yer guid I +spoke the word. Guid nicht.” And as they parted he +kissed her—a mark of affection he had not shown since +their first bitter quarrel about the preaching.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie being still unable to leave the house, Mary, +Janet, and Archie, went together the next day to the +East Port; taking their places of course amongst the +congregation who worshipped outside the gate. They +were unfortunate in the position into which they were +forced by the pressure of the crowd. Without much +will or design of their own, they were gradually pushed +under the gateway, and quite close to the massive bars +of the gate. In this situation they could hear very well, +but were unable to see; a loss always considerable, but +especially so where the earnest speaking countenance of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>the preacher lent additional weight to his words. Archie +loudly deplored the privation, but Mary soon felt herself +more than repaid for it. She could scarcely indeed +believe the testimony of her eyes—there, within the +gate, not a yard from her, stood her brother! He +looked pale and haggard, but at this she did not marvel, +since it must have been after a hard struggle with the +prejudices and prepossessions of half a lifetime, that he +prevailed on himself to take his place amongst the +hearers of the great heretic. But was not this the dawn +of a brighter day for both of them, and the earnest of an +answer to her many fervent prayers on his behalf? Her +heart went up silently in words of thanksgiving, and it +must be owned that she was rather in danger of yielding +to the subtle temptation of listening to the Word of God +with the ears of those in whom we are interested rather +than for our own edification. More fortunate, however, +than the listeners without the gate, her brother soon +succeeded in obtaining a better position, and passed on +to where her eye could not follow him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>We must follow him thither. With the successful +pertinacity of a man in a crowd who has a settled purpose, +while those around him have only a vague desire +to make themselves as comfortable as they can, he +slowly pushed his way until he reached the very foot of +the narrow stair by which the preacher always descended +into the street from his elevated position on the top of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>the gate. Then, for the first time, John Wigton saw +the man he purposed to slay. In spite of sleepless +nights and weary days spent in prayer to all the saints +in the Calendar for a strong and steady heart, a tremor +ran through his frame at the moment. Wishart was +kneeling for the prayer that preceded his sermon, but +he soon rose and began to speak. Wigton however did +not hear a word, he only saw the speaker. A morbid +but most natural fancy that he was looking at <i>him</i>, at +him alone in all that crowd, took possession of his +mind. He could not endure the gaze of that dark, +mournful, noble countenance. It was one thing to think +of George Wishart as a kind of abstraction, the representative +of those ideas which his heart most loathed +and detested; another to stand and look him in the +face, a living man, whom that sharp “whinger” beneath +his gown, upon the hilt of which his hand was resting, +must, in two hours at the most, change into a ghastly +corpse. It was gruesome work at the best,—<i>why</i> had +he undertaken it?</p> + +<p class='c013'>But it had to be done. The interests of Holy Kirk, +the salvation of his own soul, the rescue of many others +from fearful peril, all demanded it. His heart was resolved, +and he would not look at the man again; where +was the use of it? But he <i>did</i> look again, in fact he +neither looked, nor could look, away from him. A kind +of fascination held his eyes fixed to the spot. With +<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>that curious minuteness of perception which is sometimes +the result of intense excitement, his mind took in +everything however trifling—his victim’s dress, simple +in fashion and coarse in texture;<a id='r10'></a><a href='#f10' class='c014'><sup>[10]</sup></a> the long frieze mantle +with the plain black “millian” doublet underneath, +relieved by snow white cuffs and Geneva bands,—all +such as a poor man might have worn, and yet so worn +by him as to add to the impression which made every +one instinctively describe him as “a braw gentleman.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then with a start Wigton tried to recall his wandering +thoughts. But before he was aware of it, he actually +found himself, in spite of all his previous resolutions, +listening to the heretic preacher. The words so often +repeated in his heart, “the forgiveness of sins,” struck +on his ear, and beguiled him even into a few moments’ +forgetfulness of his purpose. What he heard was so +unlike all his anticipations that very wonder made him +listen still for more. He expected to hear a torrent of +coarse and scurrilous abuse poured upon the dogmas and +ceremonies of the Church; not worse perhaps in point +of good taste and good feeling than the average sermons +of the Gray or Black Friars, but necessarily most offensive +to a devout Catholic. He heard nothing of the +kind. The preacher’s soul was intent on “this one +<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>thing,” to bring other souls to Christ; and he only +stooped to notice error when it lay so directly in the way +between the sinner and the Saviour that he must needs +clear it thence and cast it forth. “To the pure word of +God he gave his labooris.” Christ, in his person and +his work, was the theme of his discourse.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He only is our Mediator,” he said, “and maketh +intercession for us to God his Father.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He is the door, by which we must enter in.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He that entereth not in by this door, but climbeth +ane other way, is a thief and a murderer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He is the Verity and Life.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He that goeth out of this way, there is no doubt but +he shall fall into the mire; yea, verily he is fallen into it +already.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then he “exhorted all men equally in his doctrine,” +to put their trust in that Saviour, and to receive from +him what he was exalted to God’s right hand on purpose +to give, and that freely, repentance and remission of sins.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Had John Wigton heard these words twelve years ago, +how different might all have been! Then indeed for +him might the parched ground—the mirage of the desert—have +become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of +water. Too late now! And yet it might be that a few +drops of that living water, poured so freely upon all +around, forced their way through the hard crust of +fanaticism to the human heart that still throbbed beneath +<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>it. For old feelings long forgotten, new feelings struggling +for life, began to stir within him. There was a +strange sweetness in all this, mingled with a kind of pain; +as if those re-awakened longings, never satisfied before, +scarcely hoping to be satisfied now, cried aloud in his +heart, “Wherefore hast thou disquieted us to bring us +up?” Glorious thought of forgiveness, of peace with +God, once, oh how ardently desired! Might it even still +be realized? Was it in this way,—</p> + +<p class='c013'>Where was he? What was he doing? Was he dreaming? +No; at least the hard hilt of the whinger, pressed +by his right hand, was real enough. But he had actually +been listening to the heretic; and so listening that he +had forgotten himself, what he came to do, everything, +except those wonderful words. Had he forgotten his +faith? Was the numbing spell of heresy creeping over +his senses, even over <i>his</i>? Horrible thought! “Holy +Mother of God, aid and keep thy servant,” he said within +himself. And then there came over him a great and +sudden revulsion of feeling. The very fact that for a +few moments his heart had been half won, made the +strong rebound to his old hatred and fanaticism all the +quicker and surer. How subtle must be that poison +which, in spite of all his precautions, had well-nigh stolen +into his own veins. How fatally sweet the voice of that +charmer to whom, trained and guarded as he was, he +had almost been seduced into listening! They who +<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>listened should no doubt repent it where there was no +more place for repentance, in the fire that is not quenched +for ever and ever. It was time all this were ended. The +murderer of souls had earned his doom, and his blood +should be upon his own head. Heart and hand were +strong enough now, and ready for the work of vengeance. +It was well they were; for the heretic’s sermon was over, +and he was about to descend from the gate.</p> + +<p class='c013'>After the concluding prayer there was a pause of +solemn silence, then the people began soberly to disperse. +Wigton, who was fully aware of the hazard of the deed +he had undertaken, had planned a quick escape through +the startled crowd after its accomplishment. He now +retained sufficient composure to look round and decide +upon the way he should take. By the time this was +done, the preacher was descending the narrow staircase. +In a moment the two are face to face. Now—now! +One blow for Holy Mother Church!</p> + +<p class='c013'>Before that blow could be struck, George Wishart +calmly laid his hand on the assassin’s arm, saying, +“Friend, what wad ye do?” Then, with a gesture at +once gentle and commanding, he threw back his gown, +and took the now useless whinger from his nerveless unresisting +grasp.</p> + +<p class='c013'>John Wigton was the superstitious child of a superstitious +age; and he had long been in that peculiar temper +of mind from which the thought of the supernatural is +<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>never far removed. With nerves and brain stimulated +to a pitch of intense excitement, it was most natural that +he should take for a miracle what was in reality only an +instance of wonderful quickness of perception and presence +of mind. Clearly God was on this man’s side, and +had interposed his own arm to protect and deliver him! +Then had <i>he</i> been fighting even against God!</p> + +<p class='c013'>Overwhelmed by the thought, and conscience-stricken, +he threw himself at the feet of the man whose life he +sought, confessing in broken accents what he had been +about to do, and why. He even named the Lord Cardinal +as the instigator of the crime. Beaton had indeed +been guilty, not only of a crime but of a blunder, when +he selected for so tough a piece of work an instrument +at once too weak and too fine.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But in betraying his employer, the miserable man had +also betrayed himself, and that to an instant and horrible +death. He knew and felt this as he stood there like +one turned to stone, with cheeks and lips of ashy whiteness, +and eyes wild with terror. The revelation of his +purpose, made by himself alone, and overheard by the +bystanders, had transformed the quiet orderly assembly +into a frantic mob, thirsting for his blood like one man, +or rather like some fierce beast of prey springing with +eyes of fire upon its terrified, palsied victim. All mobs +have not had so fair an excuse for violence. Should a +company of men who are treading in the dark some +<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>perilous path that skirts a precipice, arrest a stranger in +the act of hurling their solitary light-bearer down the +rock, they would not probably be very scrupulous in +their treatment of the criminal. Every man in the crowd +who had a sword or whinger, drew it, and rushed towards +the assassin, while the rest brandished staves or caught +up stones from the street. And “the noyse rising, and +coming to the ears of the sick (without the gate), they +cried, ‘Deliver the traitor unto us, or ellis we will tack +him by force;’ and so they birst in at the gate.”<a id='r11'></a><a href='#f11' class='c014'><sup>[11]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c013'>Wigton tried hard to cry to God for the mercy he +dared not hope from man; but no word would come to +him, nor any thought except a fearful looking for of +judgment and fiery indignation. His head dropped on +his breast; his arms were folded in despair. A lifetime’s +agony seemed compressed into those horrible moments. +He must die, and unforgiven. All was lost—lost—lost—for +ever.</p> + +<p class='c013'>No; he is saved! In the tumult he had not heard +the voice of one who pleaded for his life, nor perhaps +could others hear it. But George Wishart did not trust +to words alone when the life of an enemy was at stake. +A moment more, and Wigton felt himself clasped in the +minister’s arms, shielded thus with his own person from +sword and stave and whinger. “Whosoever troubles +him shall trouble me,” cried the noble-hearted reformer. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>“He has hurt me in nothing, but has done great comfort +both to you and me, for he has letten us understand +what we may fear. In times to come we will watch +better.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>This was George Wishart’s only vengeance. Rarely, +perhaps, have such an assemblage of qualities been displayed +in so brief a moment of time. But the flash of +lightning which, in the space of a second, illumines a +whole landscape, creates nothing of what it reveals; +all was there before. Thus the occasion proved +the man; what he did was but the evidence of what +he was. Through patient years of “the unremitting +retention of simple and high sentiments in obscure +duties,” had been trained the brave and loving heart, as +well as the “maist scharp eye and judgment,” which +saved, that day, two lives—his own and his intended +murderer’s.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Our friends without the gate had their full share in +the general excitement and confusion. Archie strove +and pushed and shouted with the best; no man in the +crowd more eager to be avenged upon the cowardly +assassin.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’d hae dinged his skull in wi’ a muckle stane,” he +boasted afterwards, “but I daurna for guid Maister +Wishart.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie told him in reply that he’d “better hae been +caring the lasses,” which was true enough. For some +<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>minutes Janet and Mary, pressed as they were against +the gate by those immediately behind them, were in +actual peril. When at last it gave way, they were borne +through it by the crowd, and swept onwards without any +power of resistance. Still they clung together, sorely +terrified, but unhurt, until in one unhappy moment Mary +chanced to look up, and caught a glimpse of the two men +on the staircase, locked together in that strange embrace.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Well did she recognise the white agonized face of her +brother. At once the whole terrible truth flashed upon +her mind. Her head sank on Janet’s shoulder; and had +there been room to fall, she would have fallen senseless +to the ground. Janet fortunately possessed a degree of +muscular strength unusual in a girl; and she exerted +herself to the utmost to drag her friend out of the throng. +When the bystanders understood what was the matter, +they made way for them as well as they could; and one +or two men good-naturedly volunteered their assistance. +That a girl in the crowd should faint, in circumstances +of such excitement, seemed to all the most natural thing +in the world. At last she was carried to a quiet spot +some distance down a neighbouring wynd. Here, just +as Archie and some others joined the group, she recovered +consciousness, and looking round her, asked +with a bewildered air, “Hae they killed him?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Of course every one misunderstood the question. +Janet answered eagerly,—</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>“Na, na! He’s as safe as you or I. God gied his +angels charge over him!” she added, for once in her +life kindling into enthusiasm, and even quoting Scripture.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Eh, and what wad the saints hae got to do, gin they +couldna tak’ care o’ <i>him</i> amang them a’!” cried Archie, +his creed rather in confusion, but his heart glowing with +the delicious passion of a boy’s first hero-worship.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary’s pale face scarcely showed relief or pleasure. +She was bowed down beneath a weight of sorrow those +around her could not comprehend. Too sick at heart +to repeat her question, a little reflection sufficed to convince +her it was scarcely a necessary one. She did not +fear for her brother’s <i>life</i>; she had such absolute trust +in him under whose protection she had seen him, that +to doubt either his good-will or his ability never occurred +to her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>At length she turned to Janet and whispered, “Let +me gang hame.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Janet and Archie took her home, still feeling as one +who dreamed. She hardly spoke to them; and she +thought she dared not face Jamie then, or indeed ever +again upon earth. Still she ought to tell them—she +<i>must</i> tell them—all; but oh, not yet!</p> + +<p class='c013'>She went at once to the little room where she slept, +shut the door, and threw herself on her knees. Only +before her God could she pour forth the anguish of her +soul. Her own—her only brother—had raised his hand +<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>against the life of the man to whom she owed far more +than life. For a while she must be left to the shame and +the bitterness of that thought. By and by she will see +comfort, rich comfort, in the mercy of Him who interposed +to shield his servant from the malice of wicked +men, to save her misguided brother from a fearful crime, +and to give him still time for repentance.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But while Mary mourned, the men of Dundee rejoiced +and gave thanks, each one as if for his own personal +deliverance from terrible danger. For the cardinal’s +mission had failed. Well was it for them, well for John +Wigton, well for thousands who had yet to hear the word +of truth from the lips he sought to silence. But was it +well for George Wishart? That is not so clear. Little +cause indeed had he to fear the assassin’s knife. Had +the murderer done his worst, it would still have been—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“But one step for those victorious feet,</div> + <div class='line'>From their day’s walk into the golden street!”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>Only a moment’s shock, a death-pang scarcely felt,—then +a joyful waking in his Saviour’s presence. Were +not this better far for him than the dark and painful +path he was destined to tread? Yet no. “The righteous, +and the wise, and their works, are in the hand of God,” +and best in the end for them the ways He chooses are +sure to prove. Those who, in all ages, have dared to +resign themselves to his guidance, have borne triumphant +witness to the Light that illumined and the Hand that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>led them throughout. Many doubtless there are on +earth, who, bending wearily beneath the weight of the +cross, wish that weight were lightened; but we may be +sure that amongst the white-robed choir before the +throne there stands not one who would now be willing +to have had his cross less heavy, or to have done or +suffered the least fraction less for his Master’s sake.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_128.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_129.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>X.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>What became of the Cardinal’s Missionary.</span></h2> +</div> +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Oh, if before thy death, our God</div> + <div class='line'>Will thee reclaim and own;</div> + <div class='line'>No dearer face than thine I’ll hail,</div> + <div class='line'>Around his judgment throne.”</div> + <div class='line in24'><span class='sc'>Rev. R. S. Brooke.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_129b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_131.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>X.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>What became of the Cardinal’s Missionary.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_131.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +It was late in the afternoon, but Mary had not +yet left her room, nor would she admit even +Janet. To the anxious inquiries of her +friends she only answered that she was not ill, and that +she would come to them by and by, but she needed rest +and wished to be alone. In the meantime Archie told +his brother all that had happened; and it may well be +guessed the story did not lose any of its striking features +by his telling.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie, who was considerably better, was amusing +himself by walking up and down the hall and passages +of the house, when some one knocked gently at the +street door. Being near at the moment, he had it +opened before Archie, the usual porter, could bound +down the stairs for the purpose. But had Mary heard +that knock, she would at once have recognised it, and +with her will no hand save her own should have opened +the door.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>A gentlemanly person, unknown to Jamie, stepped +inside. He had just asked the stranger what he wanted, +when, to his equal surprise and horror, Archie sprang +at the man’s throat like a wild cat, his fair boyish face +darkened by a scowl of positive hatred.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hae ye tint yer senses, callant?” cried Jamie, +exerting all his strength, which at the time was not +great, to drag them asunder.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Haud yer hand aff!” shouted Archie. “Yon’s the +loon wha hae tried to kill Maister Wishart.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie, however, succeeded in separating them, but +only in time to save Wigton (who seemed to lack the +spirit to resist his youthful assailant) from a severe fall.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is that true, sir?” he demanded then, much in the +tone of a judge interrogating a prisoner.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The unfortunate man raised his eyes for a moment to +those of his questioner, then dropped them again as if +unable to bear his gaze, and after making an ineffectual +effort to speak, turned quickly towards the door. But +Archie, either from accident or design, was standing +directly between him and it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Let him pass, brither,” cried Jamie; then turning +to Wigton with a manner expressive of the most bitter +contempt and loathing, “Nae hand o’ ours sall be upon +ye, traitor tho’ ye are, for his sake wha askit yer life; but +tak’ yer foot frae an honest man’s threshold.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>John Wigton hesitated, and, to do him justice, his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>thoughts at the moment were not selfish ones. His +natural impulse would have been to say, “Where’s +Mary Wigton? She is my sister.” He had counted +upon her affection, sorely as it had been tried, for the +shelter or the disguise which might yet be necessary +to save his life. But were it well done to betray their +relationship, and thus perhaps to deprive her of the +only friends now remaining to her on earth? For he +himself, as friend or foe, must henceforward count as +nothing.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Archie eagerly flung the door wide open, Jamie sternly +watched to see him go, but still he stood irresolute. At +last, looking full in the young man’s honest though +angry face, he said boldly, “Gin ye fear God, and pity +the unfortunate, let me bide here the nicht.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie’s eyes flashed, “An’ I do I’ll be——,” and +there he stopped abruptly, and bit his lip until the blood +came; for an evil word had well-nigh escaped him +unawares. But presently his anger changed to disdain. +“What hae ye got to fear, gin it’s no yer ain ill conscience, +ye puir spirited loon? The law ’ill no touch a +hair o’ yer head, sin’ (God forgie the wicked men wha +hae done it) Maister Wishart’s been put to the horn.<a id='r12'></a><a href='#f12' class='c014'><sup>[12]</sup></a> +Ye kenned that unco weel, ye dastard, when ye thocht +to raise yer hand against his life.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Wigton unconsciously answered him almost in the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>very words of the first murderer. “But aebody wha +finds me ’ill kill me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye suld hae thocht o’ that afore ye took sic’ a bluidy +trade in hand,” said Jamie scornfully.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Dinna fash yersel wi’ his clavers,” cried Archie. +“Fling him across the street!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Whisht, Archie!—Gin ye’re sae fear’t for yersel”—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I do fear,” said Wigton, in a low voice. “I darena +dee—<i>no just yet</i>.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie looked at him steadily, and the hard expression +of his face began to soften a little. “Be you a Dundee +man?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Na.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“God be thankit for the same! I couldna thole the +thocht that <i>he</i> had come amang us, sae brave and kind, +to do us a’ the guid he might for soul and body, and that +we had sought to pay him—wi’ the murderer’s knife! I +was aye proud to be a Dundee man, but I thocht to-day +I maun be shamed of it. Weel, that’s bye. What for +can ye no gang hame? The sooner ye free the toon o’ +the presence of a traitor carl, the better.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Daur I pass the gate in this gear?” asked John Wigton.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie had no answer to this question ready. It had +now become clear to him that the unhappy man was +really in danger, and that either a change of clothing or +a night’s lodging was absolutely necessary to give him a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>reasonable chance of safety. But what was that to him? +For one short moment he was glad—glad to think that, +without overt act of his, the man who had raised his +cruel hand against the life so dear to them all should pay +the just forfeit of his crime. But then another thought +came to him,—and he stood irresolute, gazing on the +pale troubled face before him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>After a short pause, he turned abruptly and opened +the door of the room where Wigton once before had +passed the night. “Gang in there,” he said; “I maun +think.” About to walk hastily upstairs, he fortunately +recollected Archie, and mindful of the explosion that +would certainly follow if he were left with that man, he +seized the boy by his collar, and marched him before +him with little ceremony and much decision.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Whilst Archie told the astonished Janet who was in +the house, Jamie walked silently to the window and stood +there, his head resting on his hands. Not long since +had his heart’s choice been made to serve and follow his +Master Christ; and this was the first time his faith had +been put to the proof by the solemn question, “Shall I +do in this matter the thing that <i>I</i> please, or shall I deny +myself, and do the will of Christ my Saviour?” What +that will was, he could not doubt. He from whose lips +he had learned “the mercies of God,” was very earnest +and explicit in beseeching those who tasted them to +yield themselves living sacrifices, holy, acceptable unto +<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>him. “If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, +give him drink;”—Jamie well knew the words, and felt +them at that moment directly addressed to him. But his +eyes were resting on the spot where so lately Wishart had +knelt by his sick bed in prayer; the Book he had given +lay near him on the table; and all the blessed words or +help and healing, all the noble deeds of Christian love, +which he and others owed to him, came crowding on his +memory. A personal wrong would have been, oh how +easy to pardon! But to attempt his life—<i>his</i>! That +was too cruel; it was beyond all pardon. He had yet +to learn the last and hardest lesson of Christian charity +(witness any who have tried it)—to forgive the injuries +done to those we love and reverence. But then, who +possessed, after all, the right to decide the question, and +to dispose of the man’s life? And had not he, in the +plainest possible manner, already made known his decision! +This thought softened him; his lip trembled, and +a mist came over his dark eye.</p> + +<p class='c013'>At last he spoke aloud, but as if addressing himself: +“I’ll do it, sin’ Maister Wishart willed it thus.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, Jamie!” cried Janet, who for some moments +had been watching him earnestly, “dinna do it for +Maister Wishart’s sake, but for the guid Lord Jesus, wha +prayed on the cross for his murderers!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie was surprised at this burst of feeling from the +ordinarily reserved and silent Janet. But not the less +<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>had the arrow she sped winged its way to his heart. +“Ye’re richt, lass,” he said, in an altered tone. Then, +turning to the large “kist” which did duty as the family +wardrobe, he began to ransack its contents with a hasty +hand.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What gars ye make sic’ a litter?” asked Janet, subsiding +in a moment into her ordinary sphere of common +life and practical activity. “Tell <i>me</i> what ye’re seeking, +an’ I’ll find it for ye without turning aething topside +down.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But Jamie silently held up the object of his search—a +suit of coarse clothing which he had been accustomed +to wear when about his daily work.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Just then Mary entered the room, looking very pale. +She had heard the loud voices in the passage, and at +once the idea occurred to her that her brother might +have ventured to the house. As hitherto, in compliance +with his own request, she had always been careful to +watch for his knock and to admit him herself, he would +naturally calculate upon this. Alarmed at the thought +of his being recognised by any one else, she was going +down to meet him, when, in passing by the open door +of the Duncans’ room, she overheard part of their conversation.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Jamie,” she said, in a low but tolerably calm voice, +“yon man is my brither, John Wigton.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Janet and Archie uttered exclamations of surprise, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>perhaps of horror. Jamie remained silent, but drew his +hand across his face.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary’s soft eyes were fixed on that shaded face with +a wistful inquiring gaze, very touching in its sorrowful +earnestness. “Do <i>you</i> indeed despise me?” they seemed +to ask.</p> + +<p class='c013'>At length Jamie spoke, and in that peculiarly gentle +tone which a keen observer might have noticed he never +used except in addressing her: “Mary, lass,” he said, +“wad ye rather see him again or no?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I maun see him, Jamie.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then bring him thae bit claes; an’ he wants meat +or drink, ye ken whaur to get it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“God bless ye,” answered Mary; and taking the +clothes with her, she left the room.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mere courage, or the absence of it, is not always a fair +test of a man’s moral condition. That morning John +Wigton had been ready enough to brave a violent death; +that evening, he was willing to do or suffer almost anything +in order to retain for a little longer.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“The poor common privilege of breathing.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c016'>But in the meantime a revolution had passed over him; +and the man who shrank from death was in some +respects better and wiser than the man who faced +it fearlessly. His daring had been the offspring of +ignorance and superstition; his fears were at least +reasonable. A weight of conscious guilt was on his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>soul, how then could he venture to enter his Maker’s +presence?</p> + +<p class='c013'>He was sitting at the table, his head bowed down +between his hands, when Mary entered the room, came +towards him, and said softly, “Brither.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He started and looked up, but in an instant afterwards +his head sank and he covered his face again.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’ll no reproach ye,” said Mary, her voice trembling, +“but gin it’s no wrang to think it, I could wish God +wad hae taken me hame afore this bitter day. Brither, +brither—what gared ye dream o’ sic’ a deed?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I hae nae will to blame him that bade me do the +wark, my ain guilt is owre heavy for that,” he answered; +and Mary saw that his heart was crushed within him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Thank God it was nae waur,” she said gently; “it +gars me grue to think what micht hae been the day.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Sister, ye were richt. Maister Wishart preaches the +true Word o’ God. Miserable sinner that I am, I hae +focht against God himsel!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“God can pardon, brither.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh ay, he can, but I sair misdoot,—atweel, Mary, +we maun part the noo for aye and aye. Ye ken yersel +it’s better sae.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary did not deny it. Tearless, but with a look more +sad than many tears, she answered, “Brither, I’ll pray +for ye night, noon, and morn—I’ll nae mair forget yer +name than I could <i>his</i> whase life ye sought. And I hope +<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>in God’s mercy we’ll meet ainst again at his right +hand.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then we part friends, Mary?” said Wigton, extending +his hand.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh ay,” replied Mary quickly; but a sudden thought +of the deed that hand had been about to do overcame +her at the moment, and she hesitated to take it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye willna touch me,” said her brother. “<i>He</i> took +me in his arms.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Overpowered by the recollection, he buried his face +once more in his hands and wept aloud. George +Wishart’s forgiving love had conquered. All the ice of +fanaticism, that for years had been gathering around the +heart of Wigton, melted beneath its beams in a single +hour. Since he left his father’s home he had scarcely +known what it was to weep; for men who harden their +hearts as he did, do not often yield to the softening +thoughts that bring tears. But now he was sobbing like +a child; not for sorrow, not for shame, not even for the +sense of sin, but only at the memory of those arms +clasped around him—that voice pleading for him—“Whosoever +shall trouble him troubles me.” And he +had hated the man so bitterly, had believed so firmly +that by killing him he should do God service! Truly, +as Martin Luther said, “Satan cannot cast out Satan,” +nor hate vanquish hate, “but the finger of God, which +is love, will do it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>When men weep thus they do not soon grow calm +again. Mary saw that every nerve in her brother’s +frame was quivering with emotion. She came very +close to him <i>now</i>, wound her arms about his neck and +pressed her lips to his. “God will pardon thee,” she +said again.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“God’s servant pardoned,” murmured Wigton.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“An’ I dinna think the Maister’s ain heart ’ill be less +full o’ love than the servant’s. Whaur but frae the +blessed Lord himsel did Maister Wishart learn to forgie +like that? Gin <i>he</i>, wha ye thocht to kill, could shield +ye wi’ his ain body frae them that sought yer life, ye +may ken for sure that the guid Lord ’ill no refuse, an’ ye +turn to him, to tak’ ye in <i>his</i> arms and keep ye safe frae +scathe and harm.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“O Mary, what a refuge for the like o’ me! Na—na—it’s +owre guid.” And he shook his head despondingly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He saves to the uttermost, he forgies e’en the chief +o’ sinners,” answered Mary.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But I maun gang,” said Wigton, rising. “It’s +wearing late, and they’ll hae shut the gates.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary gave him the clothes she brought, and proffered +food, which he declined. He changed his dress in a +small adjacent room where Mary used herself to sleep +before her father’s death; and then returning to her, said, +“I dinna think aebody’s like to ken me noo, forbye it’s +weel nigh dark.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>“Could ye no bide here the nicht, John?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I daurna; an’ what guid wad it do?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Will ye no tell me whaur ye’re gaun?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I dinna just ken mysel. But I ken unco weel +whaur I’m no like to gang, and that’s to St. Andrews. +Aebody’s hand ’ill be again me noo; and my lord the +Cardinal wad gie me sharp thanks for this morn’s wark.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary shuddered. “He maun be a bluidy blackhearted +man, God forgie him,” she said. “What gars +him hate guid Maister Wishart, wha never did him or +ony man harm?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>To this question John Wigton was scarcely competent +to give an answer. But he gave the best he could,—“Because +he is—he was—that is, they ca’ him—an +awfu’ heretic. But heretic or no,” he added very +earnestly, “wi’ a’ my heart I pray God bless him, an’ +I’ll pray the same ilka day until I dee, gin the prayer +o’ sic’ a puir wretch as I can be worth aething ava.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Again his voice faltered and his lips trembled. But +steadying both with an effort, he said, “Guid nicht, +Mary. Aiblins ye’ll hear o’ me again, but maist like ye +willna.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Brither!—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Dinna fret for me. I’ll no starve, I’ll fend for +mysel some gait or ither. It’s an ill pairt I hae done +by you, lass, but ye’ve better friends than me noo. +Guid nicht!”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>Mary threw herself into his arms. One moment she +was locked in his embrace, the next he was gone. +Where he sat and wept, there she too seated herself, +and her tears began to flow. “Brither! brither!” was +the cry of her heart, though her lips uttered no sound—“My +puir, puir brither!” Love and pity were now the +only feelings that found place in her soul. Pity for his +shame and sorrow; mingling with the old familiar +childish love, the love that never grows up save between +those whose</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Voices mingled as they prayed</div> + <div class='line in2'>Beside one parent’s knee.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c016'>Oh, might they meet again, here if it were her Father’s +will; if not, hereafter, in that home where shame and +sorrow can never come!</p> + +<p class='c013'>But did John Wigton really repent? Towards the +man whose life he sought he certainly repented; did he +towards that God against whom he had sinned so deeply? +We cannot answer. It is God’s own high prerogative +to <i>give</i> repentance. He alone who made the heart can +re-make it, changing its stony hardness into flesh “like +a little child’s.” Man’s love and forgiveness may soften +even obdurate hatred towards man; but it needs the +revelation of a divine tenderness, divinely made, to +subdue that awful and mysterious enmity of the depraved +mind against Him who is the source of all good and all +happiness.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>Mary’s tears were changing into prayers for the now +doubly lost one, when some one quietly entered the +darkening room. She knew Jamie’s footstep,—but why +should she tremble so? How glad she was that in the +waning light they could not see each other’s faces! She +could not help the strange fear that thrilled her heart. +Fear of what? His contempt? He was too generous +for that; but generous as he was, the sister of John +Wigton could never be to him, or to any of them, what +she had been before. The very name was infamous +now. She would go away—would hide herself from +them all.</p> + +<p class='c013'>James Duncan walked straight up to her, and took +her passive hand in his. “Mary, lass?” said his gentle +voice,—the voice of a strong man’s tenderness.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary steadied hers to answer him. “Jamie,” she said, +“ye ken God has laid his hand on me the day. For I +maun think, it’s my comfort, that a’ the grief and dolour +comes straight frae his ain hand; an’ no be minding the +wicked, cruel men wha hae had to do in’t. And, oh +Jamie! there hae been ithers mair to blame than my +puir misguided brither. God forgie him; and I hae that +faith He will. For sure he repents.—But that’s no what +I want to say.” She paused a minute; and the darkness +hid the deepening crimson of her cheek, but not the +faltering of her voice, as she resumed, “Puir we hae +been, but dishonour ne’er came to our house till the day. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>It has come noo, God help me to bear it! Na Wigton +’ill ever haud up the head again in a’ the country. God +may forgie this day’s wark, but men willna forget it; +aiblins they suldna. And I’m Mary Wigton, John +Wigton’s sister. Archie and Janet—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>The rest of the sentence was never spoken, for Jamie +quickly interrupted, “Janet hauds ye her ain dear sister, +an’ I—hear me, Mary—I love ye as I love naething else +in a’ the muckle warld.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And he added a great deal more, which need not here +be written. If the sober, quiet, but deep-feeling young +man grew actually eloquent, it was no marvel, for +eloquence is the language of strong emotion, and his +soul was moved to its centre. What he said might, and +probably would, have been said weeks before, but for +the circumstances of danger and trial in which they had +been placed, which seemed to render such thoughts +untimely and unsuitable. Or it might still have been +deferred for weeks, had not Mary’s grief and shame for +her brother smitten the rock of reserve and caused the +waters to gush forth. However this may be, it <i>was</i> said +now. There, in the soft autumn gloaming, the faces of +the speakers unseen, but their hands clasped together, +simple earnest vows were exchanged, vows which they +prayed God to bless and confirm. They believed he +would look down in love upon his two poor children, +whose hearts he had bound together by such a close and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>tender tie. They had no dream of happiness apart +from his favour and blessing; whatever he might give +them in each other, the cry of both their hearts was still +the same,—“Thou, and Thou alone art our portion.” +They could not have loved each other so well, if they +had not loved Him better.</p> + +<p class='c013'>That bitter day did not close in bitterness upon Mary +Wigton. Subdued and chastened but most heartfelt +thanksgivings for God’s mercies to herself, mingled with +her prayers for her misguided, wandering, but as she +hoped, repentant brother.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_146.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_147.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>XI.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>Clear Shining after Rain.</span></h2> +</div> +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Bent on such glorious toils,</div> + <div class='line in2'>The world to him was loss;</div> + <div class='line'>Yet all his trophies, all his spoils,</div> + <div class='line in2'>He hung upon the cross.”</div> + <div class='line in20'><span class='sc'>Montgomery.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_147b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_149.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>XI.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>Clear Shining after Rain.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_149.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +Janet Duncan gave Mary a sister’s welcome +with heartfelt pleasure and affection. With +her, as well as with her brother, ties were +slowly formed, though when once formed they were strong +as adamant. She contracted friendships rather from long +association and mutual service than from congeniality of +disposition or sentiment. Mary had shared her watch +beside little Effie’s dying bed, had helped to tend Jamie +during his long illness, and had struggled and suffered +with them through their sorest trials;—these were cogent +reasons for taking her at once to her warm and honest +heart. Nor was Archie less satisfied with his brother’s +choice; though he pertly suggested, that the sooner +Mary Wigton changed her name to a less objectionable +one the better it would be for all parties.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But there were difficulties about ways and means sufficient +to have perplexed much more thoughtful heads +than Archie’s. James and Mary, however, were quietly +<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>happy in the present, and therefore content to “bide +their time.” Upon one point they were both agreed: +they must wait at least until God was pleased to remove +“the great plague and sickness” from the city where +they dwelt. Had not the worst been already over, the +matter would scarcely have become even one for deliberation.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The worst <i>was</i> over. Joy and thankfulness were +about to take the place of universal sorrow and fear. +Day by day, and more and more rapidly, the number of +deaths decreased. Life began to return to its usual +course; shops and other places of public resort were +re-opened; people no longer threaded their way cautiously +through the middle of the streets, jealously guarding +themselves from every touch that might convey +infection, but began to jostle the passers-by on the +footways, or to stop and talk with their neighbours as in +former times. Devout and fervent were the thanksgivings +that arose from many hearts; nor were the Duncans +and Mary Wigton among the least grateful of the +inhabitants of Dundee.</p> + +<p class='c013'>James Duncan was now anxiously seeking another +situation. Since the memorable day of Wishart’s visit +the family had not known want; but they were not of a +temper to eat the bread of charity one hour longer than +was absolutely necessary. Besides, Jamie had now an +object before him sufficient to animate him to tenfold +<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>energy and activity. A very frugal livelihood, it is true, +would suffice for them. Janet and Mary could help in +various ways (for as a matter of course they were all still +to remain together); and it was fully time even for +Archie to take the matter of earning his own bread into +consideration. But the first thing necessary was, that +James should procure employment. Poor in everything +else, the young man was rich in character; the family +of his late employer and many of his customers were +ready to give him those “goodly words,” which in certain +cases are the reverse of useless. Still, for some time +his efforts proved unsuccessful; and he was beginning to +feel disheartened and seriously anxious, when a circumstance +occurred which diverted his hopes and his +exertions into an entirely new channel.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary had gone out one day to take home some fine +sewing which had been given her through her friends +the Browns; for people were again beginning to care, +not only for the necessaries, but for the elegancies and +superfluities of life. On her return, Janet surprised her +with the intelligence that no less important a personage +than Maister Wilson from the Nethergate had been inquiring +for her, and requested her to call at his house as +soon as she could. Mary’s feelings towards the man +who had wronged her father had once been very bitter; +for it is possible for gentle natures to harbour very bitter +feelings when those they love are injured. She could +<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>not forget that her father’s desire to recover the debt so +dishonestly repudiated had occasioned the removal of +the family to Dundee, and been thus, in a manner, the +cause of the troubles that had ensued. But her resentment +against this man was amongst the old things that +had passed away from her when the great change came +over her heart and life. When she found that he too +had been smitten with that terrible plague, she had not +failed earnestly to pray that God would have mercy both +on his body and his soul; and it was with pleasure she +learned that his sickness was not unto death. Still the +thought of an interview was embarrassing; and the more +so as the recollection of the father to whom she had been +so tenderly attached naturally came back very vividly on +her mind, and threatened almost to overcome her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Not choosing, however, to defer a disagreeable duty, +she at once repaired to the mercer’s dwelling; and it +was fully two hours before she returned. When she did +so, she looked agitated, and there were traces of recent +tears on her countenance. Seeing that Janet remarked +them, she said in explanation, “It’s no that I’ve been +fretted, Janet; but it’s an unco thing to think that Maister +Wilson suld come to himsel the noo, and make a’ +richt between us—and my puir father in his grave.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye dinna mean to say he’s gien ye back the siller, +lassie?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay, has he. Ilka plack and bodle o’t. Forbye, it’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>a hantle mair than the twa hundert merks, for there’s +what he ca’s <i>interest</i>.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Eh, but that’s guid news!” cried Janet and Archie +in a breath.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’m blythe to win it—for Jamie,” said Mary softly, +and with a blushing cheek.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hae ye brought it wi’ ye?” asked Archie.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Na; I was fear’t to carry sae muckle gowd. I +thocht Jamie wad gang and fetch it for me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Weel for him an’ he has nae waur wark to do,” said +Archie.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Maister Wilson maun hae gone clean wud, I’m +thinking,” said Janet. “I hae never heard the like! +And naebody e’en speiring after the siller.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a moment or two before Mary answered; and +then she said, in a quiet, reverent voice, “God has +changed his heart, Janet.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And was <i>that</i> what gared him pay the debt?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Just that. And he’s sair grieved to think of a’ the +sorrow that he—” here her voice faltered, and she +stopped. “I telled him that was a’ bye, and suldna be +thocht on again. Forbye, God meant it for guid to me; +for ye ken, gin it hadna been for the siller we’d hae +never come here, whaur the true Word o’ God is preached. +But he askit o’ my puir father, and wad hear the haill +story, sair vexed as I was to tell it. It gaed hard wi’ +him, Janet—he a’maist grat before I had done. And +<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>he said to me that he kenned full weel God had +forgien him, but he couldna forgie himsel. I tried +to gar him see that he suldna hae sic’ thochts; but +I’m naebut a puir body for words, and no gleg wi’ my +tongue.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How did he find ye out, Mary?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I dinna just ken; gin it wasna through the guid folk +wha hae helpit Jamie. He has aft seen my face at the +preaching, little dreaming wha I was. Eh, but ye suld +hae heard him talk o’ the preaching, Janet.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>At that moment Jamie entered, and was soon told the +pleasant news. Mary had now a “tocher” that many a +lass in a higher grade might have envied.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And it’s a’ anent Maister Wishart,” said Archie, “wha +tells folk they canna be saved for doing guid warks; and +gars them do mair in a day than a’ the priests in Scotland +wadna in a year.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>A discussion of their plans naturally followed. The +possession of this sum of money removed most of the +obstacles to Jamie and Mary’s union. The first and +apparently the most feasible proposition was, that Jamie +should undertake a shop of his own, in which Archie +might assist. This was not at all to Archie’s taste; but +had his been the only dissentient voice, it might still +have been carried. Mary had been for some time a +silent listener to the conversation between Jamie and +Janet, but when directly appealed to by Jamie, she said +<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>gently, “I dinna doot it’s a’ richt, Jamie. Aiblins it’s the +best thing we can do.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But I’m fear’t ye dinna like it, Mary.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh ay.” Then after a pause, and rather timidly, +“Whiles I canna help thinking lang for the bonnie Sidlaw +Hills.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Wad ye like to gang <i>there</i>, lassie?” asked Jamie, +eagerly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, <i>brawly</i>,” answered Mary, with sparkling eyes. +“An’ John tald me father’s farm’s to let. But it’s a +fule thocht,” she added; “ye couldna mind a farm, +Jamie.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s a’maist time I was awa’ to the Nethergate to +Maister Wilson,” said Jamie, evading a direct reply. +But though he spoke little, he thought much. Intensely +anxious to gratify Mary, and conscious of his own power +to master almost anything in the way of business in +which his strong will was sufficiently interested, he +revolved the plan she had suggested in his mind. Now +that he was possessed of the requisite capital, could he +not turn farmer, and thus secure, not only a comfortable +livelihood, but a healthy country home to Mary and +Janet? Part of his own boyhood had been spent with a +relative in the country; and he had thus acquired a taste +for rural occupations, as well as a little elementary knowledge +on the subject. For the rest, he could engage +competent assistance, and feel his way, trusting to his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>natural shrewdness to protect him from imposition. If +he was imprudent, he had at least a very valid excuse. +“It will please Mary so much,” was a reason weighty +enough to counterbalance many difficulties.</p> + +<p class='c013'>His visit to Wilson proved much longer than he +anticipated. The mercer, a new convert to “Christ’s +Evangel,” and full of life and zeal, was glad to find a +kindred spirit in Mary Wigton’s “weel-wisher.” A very +short time sufficed for the transaction of their business; +and they then entered into conversation upon the higher +themes so dear to both their hearts. Wilson was struck +by the young man’s general intelligence, as well as by +his knowledge of the Word of God, which indeed had +been his meditation day and night since he obtained +possession of it. No subject makes strangers friends so +quickly as this. Ere they parted, Jamie could not help +yielding to the impulse that prompted him to ask the +advice of Wilson upon the project Mary had suggested. +Wilson thought it might be accomplished, and volunteered +his counsel and assistance, which in many ways were +very useful.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Anxious to perform a service for the family Mary was +about to enter which might in some degree atone for +past injuries, he offered to take the young brother, whom +Jamie had casually mentioned, as his apprentice; and if +he liked the business, to establish him in life without +cost to his relatives. Archie’s future was just then a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>matter of serious consideration to Jamie, and he was +deeply grateful for an opening much more eligible than +any he could have dreamed of securing for him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Having duly thanked Wilson on his brother’s account +and his own, he hurried home freighted with pleasant +tidings. Great was his astonishment when Archie declared +that no persuasion could induce him to be bound +to a trade. He who in past days had so hated school, +would now do anything, possible or impossible, would +work half the night, would live on one meal a day,—if +Jamie would only consent to keep him there for another +year. Most earnestly did he entreat his brother to grant +him this boon; but when pressed to say what he proposed +doing at the year’s end, he continued obstinately +silent. Jamie reasoned, remonstrated, and finally grew +angry and threatened, all to no purpose. Even when an +elder brother performs a father’s part, he seldom possesses +in full measure a father’s authority.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Janet’s well-meant expostulations did not tend to +smooth matters. Archie was probably not mistaken in +thinking that if he explained himself freely, his practical +sister would ridicule him as an absurd dreamer, and he +dreaded nothing in the world so much as ridicule. +Therefore no more could be got from him than this, “I +willna be Maister Wilson’s, or ony man’s ’prentice.” +Jamie was fain to treat his extraordinary conduct as the +result of a fit of boyish naughtiness, and to tell him +<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>he would give him until next morning to recover his +senses.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Meanwhile the old farmstead on the slope of Dunsinnan, +amongst the bonnie Sidlaw Hills, grew fairer +and fairer in prospect. Difficulties seemed to vanish +away upon closer inspection; and after a long happy +talk together that evening, Jamie said, “My mind is set +to try it, Mary, and I think God ’ill help me; for I hae +askit him to show us the gait we suld gang.” Very +thankful was Mary for this decision. It was her +character to cling fondly to old cherished scenes and +associations, and even with Jamie she felt as if a narrow +room in a crowded “land” could scarcely ever be +“hame” to her. Besides, he had not since his illness +at all recovered his wonted strength; and for his sake, +as well as for her own and Janet’s, she longed for those +fresh mountain breezes that “sweep disease on their +breath away.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>A night’s reflection strengthened Jamie’s determination; +neither, unfortunately, did it alter Archie’s. Jamie, +anxious to avoid a sinful loss of temper on his own part, +told the boy as quietly as he could, that if he refused +Wilson’s generous offer, he did so on his own responsibility, +and very much to his own disadvantage. He +added, that he could only maintain him by taking him +with him to the country, where he must expect to work +hard and fare hard; and that as he did not see fit to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>entrust him with the motives of his strange behaviour, he +must at least go with him to the Nethergate, thank the +mercer himself for his kind proposal, and give his own +reasons for declining it. He was of an age to speak for +himself, Jamie said, and certainly in this instance <i>he</i> +could not undertake to speak for him. To this Archie +agreed, and prepared to accompany his brother. A consciousness +that all his friends were displeased with him, +made him sullen in manner and extremely uncomfortable +in feeling; but he was cherishing a purpose that he believed +in his heart of hearts to be a good and noble one, +and like an inconsiderate boy, he resolved upon pursuing +it, without pausing to reflect whether it was practicable +or no.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’m sair fashed for Archie,” said Mary to Janet when +he was gone. “The callant has some notion or ither in +his head, gin a body could come by it. Do ye no mind +how he’s changed, Janet? He’s grown sae douce and +still; and he’s aye and aye reading at ‘Maister Wishart’s +wee bookie,’ as he ca’s it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>To Jamie and Janet and Mary the New Testament +was “God’s Word,” to Archie it was only as yet “Maister +Wishart’s book.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hoot,” cried Janet contemptuously, “the laddie’s +clean wud, that’s a’. An’ I had my will, he suld e’en +want his parritch till he fand his wits.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>In the meantime Jamie and Archie walked silently to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>the Nethergate, and soon found themselves in the mercer’s +comfortable parlour. The rich man greeted Jamie +cordially, and noticed his young brother with frank kindness, +but he appeared grieved and pre-occupied.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There’s news to-day,” he said, “mony a heart in +Dundee ’ill be sair to hear.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is the sickness waur again, sir?” asked Jamie.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, God be praised, the sickness is a’maist gone; +but I hae just seen Maister James Wedderburn, wha’s +weel acquaint wi’ Maister Wishart, and its owre true he’s +gaun awa’. Neist sermon ’ill be his last here.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie’s exclamation was drowned by a real cry of distress +from Archie, a cry that made Wilson turn and look +at the boy more attentively than he had done before.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That’s ill news indeed for Dundee,” answered Jamie, +with a face that said more than his words. “But is it +sure he maun gang, sir? Couldna the Lord Provost or +Maister Robert Mill, or Maister James Wedderburn, gar +him bide wi’ us?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Wilson shook his head. “Na, na. He says ‘God +has weel nigh put an end to this battle, he finds himsel +called to ane ither.’ But there’s mony amang us ‘id gae +thro’ a’ the trouble and dolour o’ this waefu’ year again, +anely to hae him still to comfort us.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“God’s will maun be done,” said Jamie sadly. Then +after a pause, “Does aebody ken whaur he’ll gang the +noo, sir?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>“Maister Wedderburn’s no sure yet. Aiblins to +Montrose, whaur he first began to preach, aiblins back +to Kyle.” Some conversation followed upon Wishart’s +brief but brilliant ministry in the west. Jamie and +Archie knew very little of their venerated pastor, except +what they had themselves seen and heard. They listened +therefore with much interest to Wilson’s animated description +of his “offering Goddis Woord” in Ayr and the +surrounding places. For everywhere, as amongst them, +had he approved himself the minister of God, “by pureness, +by knowledge, by longsuffering, by kindness, by +the Holy Ghost, by love unfeigned.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>One story amongst others the mercer told them, which +Knox has preserved for us, bestowing upon the picture +one or two of those rare touches of grace and tenderness +of which his strong bold hand was not incapable. +Having been invited to preach in the church of Mauchline, +Wishart found himself on his arrival excluded by +the Sheriff and a strong party of Romanists, who, acting +under his orders, had seized upon the building. The +high-spirited gentlemen, his friends and adherents, were +indignant at this treatment, and vowed to enter the +church by force. But the servant of the Lord would not +strive. Taking Hugh Campbell of Kinyeancleugh, the +most zealous of his followers, aside, he said to him: +“Brother, Jesus Christ is as potent upon the fields as in +the kirk; and I find that he himself more often +<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>preached in the desert, at the sea-side, and in other +places judged profane, than that he did in the Temple +of Hierusalem. It is the word of peace that God sends +by me: the blood of no man shall be shed this day for +the preaching of it.” And so, followed by all the people +of the town, he withdrew to the hillside, where they +stood or sate around him while he preached from “a +dyke in the moor edge.” And Knox forgets not to tell +us, that “God gave the day pleasing and hote.” Modern +church-goers may be surprised to hear that the sermon +lasted more than three hours; but the preacher knew +his time was short, nor were the hearers weary, for “the +word of the Lord was precious in those days.” And +“in that sermon God wrought so wonderfully with him, +that ane of the most wicked men that was in that +country, named Laurence Rankin, laird of Sheill, was +converted. The tears ran from his eyes in such abundance +that all men wondered.” And his life thenceforward +was such as to evidence the reality of the +change.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Here Wilson paused, struck by the eager attention of +his younger listener. Archie’s bright young face was +indeed glowing with interest and enthusiasm; and the +mercer, pleased with the boy’s appearance, felt the more +desirous to receive him into his household. He therefore +asked him kindly if his brother had told him of his proposal, +and what he thought of it.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>“Ye’re unco guid, sir,” said Archie, so fired by all he +had been hearing that reserve and shyness were forgotten, +“but I willna hae a trade. I maun gang to the +schule and learn my book. Aiblins God’ll gie me sae +muckle grace that when I’m a man grown I may preach +his holy Word—like guid Maister Wishart.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie stood aghast at this revelation of his brother’s +ambition. Had the friendless orphan boy declared his +intention of one day becoming lord provost of Dundee, +or even lord high sheriff of Angus, he would have +deemed his aspirations comparatively moderate and +reasonable. “Ye puir fule callant!” he said, too deeply +compassionate to entertain the least thought of ridicule, +“ye’ll no ever be like <i>him</i>. What gars ye cry for the +moon, like a senseless bit bairn?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Leave him his lane,” interposed Wilson. “He’ll no +be the waur, ony gait, for having dreamed that dream; +and he’s like to be the better his haill life lang.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>The famous words,</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in14'>“Who aimeth at the sky,</div> + <div class='line'>Shoots higher far than he that means a tree,”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c016'>had not yet been penned; but they would not be so +famous if they did not embody a truth which thoughtful +spirits had recognised and acted upon long before.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Wilson then spoke to James Duncan about his plans; +and having ascertained his determination to remove to +the country, he finally offered Archie a home in his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>house for the next year; telling him he might attend +school with his own bairns and show what progress he +could make; and adding, for Jamie’s benefit, that if it +seemed advisable, at the end of that time, he might still +be bound to the trade.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Archie “wasna blate,” as Jamie afterwards declared. +He frankly and gratefully embraced the proposal, leaving +his brother little opportunity for showing the reluctance +he felt at accepting so great a boon from a comparative +stranger.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The brothers did not return as silently as they came. +Their brief misunderstanding had been swept away by +a common interest and sympathy; and if the elder remonstrated +with the younger on the wildness of his +ambition, it was in the spirit of love and meekness. For +he had reason to fear that the boy had not yet in his +own heart felt the power of the truths that Wishart +preached; and that what looked so like an ardent +attachment to the doctrines of the gospel, was, in fact, +only the result of a passionate admiration for the best +and noblest man he had ever known. Archie’s answers +to the questions he put, though both frank and intelligent, +confirmed him in this opinion; and he warned +him, gently but faithfully, against the danger of self-deception. +He was so far impressed and sobered, that +on his return home he actually allowed Jamie to narrate +to Janet and Mary all they had heard; not interposing +<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>a single word until his brother told Wishart’s reason for +leaving Dundee, when he could not refrain from saying, +“Eh, but I think it’s unco hard. <i>Our</i> troubles are bye +noo, and we’re gaun to rest. An’ is <i>he</i> naebut to gang +to some ither battle, aiblins as hard as this ane?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay, lad,” said Jamie, “there’s nae rest for the +preacher o’ God’s Word till God gies rest himsel. How +could it be ony ither gait, sae lang as the haill country +lies in darkness and the shadow o’ death, and men are +deeing ilka day without the fear o’ God or the hope o’ +heaven? Atweel,” he added after a pause, “he’ll no +ever ken here a’ the guid he’s done us, and a’ the love +we bear him for it; but an’ it’s no wrang, I like to think +whiles that we’ll get to tell him up yon in heaven. For +doesna the Book say that sic’ as we ’ill be the minister’s +joy and crown o’ rejoicing in Christ’s presence by and +by?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But I’m no just sure, Jamie,” said Mary thoughtfully, +“that it’s richt to leave a’ the doing and suffering +in Christ’s cause to Maister Wishart. What has the +guid Lord done for him he hasna done just the same for +ilka ane of us?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But ye ken we canna preach, Mary,” remarked Janet.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That’s owre true, Janet, but we can <i>live</i>. Forbye, +Jamie, when we gang to Dunsinnan, do ye no think we +can tell our puir neebors the Word o’ God, and read +them a wheen chapters out o’ the Book?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>“Sae we will, God helping us,” said Jamie. “Gin +trouble suld come to us for the same (I’m no saying it’s +like to come, Mary, but ye ken it <i>might</i>), we’d be blythe +to thole it for his sake wha tholed the bitter cross for +ours.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ony gait, Jamie, we’re unco safe in his keeping. +An’ how weel he has fended for us! I canna but mind +that bit verse in the wee psalm book ye bought me +yestreen for a propine.<a id='r13'></a><a href='#f13' class='c014'><sup>[13]</sup></a> ‘The lot is fallen to me in a +fair ground: yea, I hae a guidly heritage.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“God be praised,” answered Jamie; “the year o’ the +muckle sickness has been the best year I hae seen in a’ +my life.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Many besides James Duncan could have borne this +witness. The dark year of Dundee proved one of the +brightest in her history. Never before, and perhaps +never since, until the great revival of the present day, +had such numbers there been turned from darkness to +light and from the power of Satan unto God. It was +but a little while until that light so increased and +brightened, that it chased the shades of darkness away +before it,—nay, until its beams, concentrated as in a +burning-glass, shrivelled to ashes the worn-out gauds +and trappings of Romish superstition. Dundee was the +first of all the Scottish burghs that declared for the +Reformation; and by her whole-hearted steadfastness +<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>in the good cause she won the honourable name of the +Second Geneva.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Three hundred years, with all their changes, lie between +us and those stormy days of conflict and victory. +Yet they are not quite forgotten. The old walls of +Dundee have indeed been laid level with the ground; +but reverent grateful hearts have spared the antique +gateway, hallowed so long ago by the feet of him who +brought glad tidings and published peace. Fitting +emblem of a grand truth! Thus shall perish the +memories of mere human greatness—the renown of kings +and captains—the gaudy trophies of successful warfare. +But the work of faith and labour of love, wrought in +Christ and for him, stands secure of a double immortality. +Its blessed results here shall last as long as the earth +herself, while its bright memorial and recompense above +are imperishable as the stars, like which they that turn +many to righteousness shall shine for ever and ever.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_167.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_169.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>XII.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>The Reward of God’s Messenger.</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“I bless Thee for the light that dawns e’en now upon my soul,</div> + <div class='line'>And brightens all the narrow way, with glory from the goal.</div> + <div class='line'>The hour and power of darkness, it is fleeting fast away,</div> + <div class='line'>Light shall arise on Scotland, a glorious gospel day!</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'> · · · · ·</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Now let thy good word be fulfilled, and let thy kingdom come,</div> + <div class='line'>And in thine now best time, O Lord, take thy poor servant home.”</div> + <div class='line in32'><cite>Lays of the Kirk and Covenant.</cite></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_169b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_171.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>XII.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>The Reward of God’s Messenger.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_171.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +More than a year has passed away since James +and Mary Duncan, with their sister Janet, +left Dundee for their new home amongst the +Sidlaw Hills. A very happy home they have found it. +They have not been without cares and anxieties, but +these have seemed light because borne together in loving +sympathy. God has established the work of their hands +upon them, and they have now every reason to believe +that the old farm of Dunsinnan Brae will amply supply +their simple wants. What is still better, they may hold +and even profess the true faith in peace, none making +them afraid. The neighbours are friendly, the parish +priest careless and indifferent. Provided he receives +his “teindis, rentis, and all uthir dewties,” he is quite willing +to connive at the absence of the Duncans from their +parish kirk; and even if he is aware that many of the +neighbours find their way in the winter evenings to the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>farm-house spence,<a id='r14'></a><a href='#f14' class='c014'><sup>[14]</sup></a> to hear the Scriptures read in their +own tongue, at least he is obliging enough to keep the +knowledge to himself. Having thus learned in a humble +way to water others, James and Mary Duncan are abundantly +watered themselves. They often long, it is true, +for the public ministrations of the gospel; but since the +streams are at present denied them, they repair the more +frequently to the fountain-head. Both can now read +with ease and fluency; and to the Testament and +Psalm book they possessed before leaving Dundee they +have since added the remaining portions of the Word of +God. These they study diligently and prayerfully, and +the Lord himself is their teacher. Meanwhile, in their +daily walk, and in all their dealings with others, they seek +to show forth the praises of Him who called them out of +darkness into his marvellous light.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Janet is now no longer an inmate of the Dunsinnan +homestead. An honest-hearted farmer of the neighbourhood, +who received the new doctrines from James Duncan, +has learned to appreciate the sterling qualities of his +teacher’s sister, and asked her to share his home. But a +distance of only two or three miles separates Mary and +Janet, who will always continue to be, what sorrow shared +together made them to each other,—loving sisters and +true friends.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Archie is still in Dundee, and bids fair to be one of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>the first pupils of the grammar-school. The good abilities +of the once idle thoughtless boy are rendered +available by the industry which is born of a cherished +purpose. Wilson proves a true and wise friend, and +allows him to lack for nothing; and, moreover, in a town +like Dundee, there are prizes enough to be won by the +talented and studious. A free education and maintenance +at the University of St. Andrews might be easily +obtained; but as things are at present, this would scarcely +be an advantage to one of his views and opinions. He +is not, however, either at an age or of a disposition to +foresee difficulties, and is too happy in his present life of +conscious progress and improvement to think much of +the future.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The beginning of the year 1546 brings great joy to +Dunsinnan Brae. A proud and happy man is James +Duncan when he holds in his arms “a bonnie lad bairn,” +his first-born; prouder and happier still when Mary’s +gentle step again moves softly through the house, or her +sweet voice chants for a cradle-song some verse from +the “guid and godly Ballates” of Maister John Wedderburn.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a cold inclement winter, but within that home +there were warmth and light; even for the life that now +is there were “all things richly to enjoy,” and there was +a bright and sure hope for that which is to come.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Jamie,” said Mary softly, one day as she sat at work +<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>beside her baby’s cradle, “do ye mind a bit promise ye +made before we left Dundee?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I ken what ye mean, Mary,” answered Jamie, with +a thoughtful face. “I said, gin the guid Lord gied me +a bonnie bairn, I’d no hae it kirstened wi’ ‘spittle, salt, +candle, coit, oil,’ and the lave, but according to our +blessed Saviours ain simple ordinance.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye said mair than that, Jamie.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay, and I’ll haud to the same. Nae hand but guid +Maister Wishart’s sall bapteeze my bairn, an I hae to +carry it across half Scotland ere I find him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye’ll na hae that to do, for it’s maist like he’s still at +Montrose.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then ye wadna think muckle o’ the journey, or be +fear’t for the bairn, Mary?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary’s eyes shone very brightly through tears of grateful +love as she answered: “Is it to see <i>his</i> face again, +Jamie? That were weel worth it a’. Forbye, he’d pray +a bit prayer for our bairn that wad bring it a blessing its +haill life lang.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And ye ken, he’s sae kind and gentle, ane needna be +fear’t to ask him. Gin the morn’s clear and frosty like +the day, I’ll just gang to Dundee and talk the matter +owre wi’ Maister Wilson.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay, and speir after Archie, puir lad. I jalouse he’s +working owre hard wi’ that Latin.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>The next day James Duncan put his resolve into practice. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>Nine or ten miles and back on foot were a small +matter to him now; but Mary, a careful and tender wife, +was grieved to see the day, which had begun in frosty +brightness, become overclouded at noon, and end in rain +and sleet. She exerted herself to make everything within +the house present as favourable a contrast as possible to +the gloom and dreariness without; and a brighter “inglenuik,” +a warmer welcome, or a more comfortable supper, +were never prepared for any tired wayfarer than those +which awaited Jamie’s return that night. He was late, +and Mary had dismissed the farm-servants to their beds +long before she heard the well-known sound of his footsteps, +and joyfully hastened to open the door for him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He scarcely answered her inquiries whether he was +“wat through,” “owfre forfoughten,” and similar subjects +of wife-like anxiety. Having thrown off his dripping +cloak in the outer porch, he silently followed her into +the cheerful spence, bright with fire and candle light.</p> + +<p class='c013'>One glance at his pale agitated face made her exclaim, +in tones faint with terror, “What’s wrang wi’ ye, +Jamie?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“O Mary, they hae taken him at last!” was the +sorrowful reply. No need to ask <i>who</i> he meant.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Wae’s me!” said Mary, when she <i>could</i> speak. “I +thocht God wad hae keppit him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“His way is in the sea, his path is in the great waters, +and his footsteps are no kent,” answered Jamie in a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>voice that showed how sorely his own faith was tried by +the mystery of God’s dealings with his servant.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“<i>Wha</i> has taken him, Jamie?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Alas, that’s weelnigh the waurst of a’. My lord +Bothwell has gien him up for gowd to the bluidy Cardinal. +But he’ll wish sair that day’s wark were undone, +when he comes to stand before the judgment-seat o’ +God.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then, whaur is he noo?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“In the cruel Cardinal’s dungeon at St. Andrew’s. +God help and strengthen him!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We can but pray. Oh, Jamie, do ye no mind wha +answered prayer sae lang ago, and sent his angel to +open the prison-door and set the captive free? I dinna +misdoot he loves Maister Wishart just as weel as e’er he +loved St. Peter.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He doesna send his angels noo, Mary.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I dinna ken; I think they were no that far awa’ +when he was saved sae strangely from sic’ a dreadfu’ +snare at Montrose.<a id='r15'></a><a href='#f15' class='c014'><sup>[15]</sup></a> But maist like the Lord of angels +<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>himsel was by then. Ony gait, I’ll no gie up hope for +him, Jamie. He that saved Daniel in the lions’ den, +and the three children in the fiery furnace, can save +his dear servant frae the cruel hand o’ him that hates +him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He <i>can</i>, Mary. He’s the God o’ the haill earth. +But I doot it’s na his will to do it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What gars ye say the like o’ that?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Unco hard it is to say it, God wot. Oh, Mary, I <i>hae</i> +prayed—I hae warsled sair wi’ the Lord a’ the time sin’ +I heard it, wi’ the bitter sleet and rain driving in my +face, and a waur storm in my heart. And I could get nae +licht or comfort ava’, God help me! But I ken by a +sure token Maister Wishart’s wark is done.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>With trembling lips Mary asked him what he meant.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He kenned it weel himsel. But I maun tell ye +frae the beginning what I hae heard the day. Maister +Wilson tald me the waefu’ tidings; and by and by wha +suld come in but Maister James Wedderburn himsel. +Ane love and ane sorrow brought us twa thegither, and I +think neither minded that are was puir and the ither rich. +He sat down sae douce and kind, and tald me a’ that +happened sin’ the time Maister Wishart left Montrose.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why did he leave it, Jamie?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>“The gentlemen o’ the Westland, wha were his +friends, wrote to ask him to come to Edinburgh, and +they wad keep tryst wi’ him there, and gar the bishops +gie him leave to haud public disputation, and to preach +the gospel. Dauntless as he ever was in the cause of +Christ’s evangel, ye may weel guess he didna say them +nay. Gin ither hearts had been as leal and true, it +might hae fared better wi’ him and wi’ us a’. There was +fearfu’ peril, for the cruel Cardinal was coming to Edinburgh; +but this didna move him, nor counted he his life +dear to himsel. He passed thro’ Dundee”—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wish we had kenned that, Jamie.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Sae do I. For noo, I wot weel that they amang +whom he has gone preaching the word o’ God sall see +his face nae mair.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>After a long pause he continued. “But he didna +bide in the town. He stayed the night at Invergowrie, +wi’ Maister James Watson. It’s his brither John wha hae +tald Maister Wedderburn what happened there. In the +dark nicht, a wheen before the daybreak, Maister Wishart +rose and gaed forth o’ the house. Still and lane as it +was that hour, the yard was no lane enoo’ for him,—he +maun gang to and fro till he fand a bit quiet walk. +Maist like he thocht nae closet wi’ the door steeked +could be sae siccar as <i>that</i>, in the chill silent autumn +night. But John Watson, wi’ ane friend o’ his, followed +and marked a’ he did.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>“Eh, but that was no richt, Jamie.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Owre true. Nae een but God’s suld hae watched +the bitter struggle o’ that brave heart. For he fell upon +his knees, and wept and groaned aloud like ane that +tholed an awfu’ agony. <i>He</i>, sae grand and calm, and +aye sae unmoved in trouble and danger! And at last +he bowed e’en his vera face to the earth, and prayed thus +for nigh an hour, in a low voice sair broken wi’ tears. +But it seemed as tho’ God heard his prayer, for then he +rose calm and stilled, and sae he gaed in.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The twa friends met him, as by chance, and askit +him whaur he had been. He wadna tell them; but in +the morning they came again to him, and said: ‘Maister +George, ye maun be plain wi’ us; for we hae seen ye, +and heard your bitter mourning, baith on yer knees and +on yer face.’ They kenned weel he was grieved at this, +tho’ he wadna gie them an ungentle word. ‘I had +rather you had been in your beds; and it had been +more profitable to you,’ he said. But still they urged +him to show them some comfort. Then at last he answered +them: ‘I will tell you. I am assured my travail +is nigh an end. Call to God for me that now I shrink not +when the battle waxes hot.’ But this gared them baith +greet, and say to him, ‘that was sma’ comfort unto them.’ +‘God shall send you comfort after me,’ Maister Wishart +said again. ‘This realm shall be illumined with the +light of Christ’s evangel, as clearly as ever was any realm +<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>since the days of the Apostles. The house of God shall +be built in it. Yea, it shall not lack (whatsoever enemies +shall devise to the contrary) the very copestone. Neither +shall this be long in doing. There shall not many suffer +after me, till that the glory of God shall evidently appear, +and shall anes triumph in despite of Satan.’—I hae gien +ye word for word, Mary; a man doesna forget sic’ words +as thae.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, Jamie,” said Mary, in tones full of awe and +wonder, “did God himsel’ tell him a’ that?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is it that strange gin he did, Mary? Might he no +tak’ his servant, like Moses to the top o’ Pisgah, and gie +him a glint of the guid land whaur he means to bring his +ain faithfu’ folk? Forbye, ye ken there’s a power in the +prayer o’ faith that passes thocht and comprehension. I +canna think that Maister Wishart’s sair warsling wi’ the +Lord that hour, wi’ strong crying and tears, was a’, or +maistly for himsel. Nae doot the thocht o’ sic’ a death +as he maun face is owre hard to flesh and bluid. And +that’s no the bravest heart that feels the least, Mary; but +that feels the <i>maist</i>, that kens a’ the bitter pain and dolor, +and yet can thole it for the Saviour’s sake. But I believe +Christ’s wark in this realm is mair a thousandfald +to him than his ain life. I believe the strongest cry of +his heart gaed up to heaven for thae puir souls he wared +that life to teach and save. And wadna the guid Lord +tell him, ‘See, I hae heard thee in this thing’—‘My +<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>righteousness is near, My salvation is gone forth.’—‘But +gae thou thy way till the end be, for thou shalt rest, and +stand in thy lot in the end o’ the days?’—Still, it’s no +for me to say muckle on’t; the place is owre holy, a man +suld tak’ his shoon frae his feet.<a id='r16'></a><a href='#f16' class='c014'><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c013'>“After that nicht’s agony and joy, he gaed forward, +strong in the calm trust that kens nae fear. But when +he came to Leith there was nae word frae the Westland +gentlemen; and the peril being great, his friends were +feart for him, and gared him keep close a wee while. +But he waxed sorrowfu’ in spirit, and said: ‘What differ +I from a dead man, except that I eat and drink? To +this time God has used my labours for the instruction of +others, and the disclosing of darkness; and now I lurk +as a man ashamed, and dare not show myself before men.’ +Seeing that he willed to preach, they answered him: +‘Maist comfortable were it unto us to hear ye, but because +we ken the danger wherein ye stand, we daurna +desire ye.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘But daur you and others hear?’ said the brave +preacher o’ righteousness,—‘then let my God provide +for me as best pleaseth him.’ (It was aye <i>my</i> God wi’ +him.) Sae he preached in Leith, in Inveresk, in Tranent; +and God wrought for him, and blessed his ain Word. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>Amang thae whase hearts he opened was Sir George +Douglas, the Maister of Angus. After the sermon at +Inveresk he said publicly, ‘I ken that my lord governor +and my lord cardinal will hear I hae been at this +preaching. Say unto them that I will avow it, and that I +will not only maintain the doctrine I hae heard, but also +the person o’ the preacher to the utmost o’ my power.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But it was in Haddington he preached his last +sermon. Ere he gaed to the pulpit, they brought him +a letter frae the Westland, to wit, that the gentlemen +couldna keep their tryst, or come to Edinburgh ava’;—maist +like they feared the Cardinal. He called unto +him ane Sir John Knox”—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Wha’s he?” asked Mary, little dreaming that the +name so unfamiliar to her ears was destined to become +far more famous than that of her revered pastor. Thus +also perhaps was the word fulfilled, “One soweth and +another reapeth,”—if indeed this be worth noticing, now +that for so many years he that sowed and he that +reaped have been rejoicing together in their Saviour’s +presence.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He’s a guid priest,” said James Duncan, “wha was +maister to Sir Hew Douglas’s bairns. He has shown +muckle love to Maister Wishart, waiting on him wi’ a’ +diligence, and blythe and proud to bear before him the +twa-handed sword his friends gared him tak’ wi’ him sin’ +John Wigton—</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>“Well, I meant—I was saying he ca’ed for his friend +Sir John Knox, and tald him a’ his bitter grief at thae +tidings. Nae thocht had he for himsel, that they had +led him into cruel peril, and then left him his lane to +dee; a’ his complaint was, that they were weary o’ God +and his cause.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then, after sermon,—whilk he ended thus, ‘Let +these my last words as concerning public preaching +remain in your minds till God send you new comfort,’—‘he +took good night, as it were for ever, of all his acquaintance.’ +Sir John Knox begged sair to bide wi’ him, +but he wadna. He took frae him the twa-handed sword, +and bade him gang his ways. Sir John still entreating, +he answered (aye thoughtfu’ as he was for a’body but +himsel), ‘Nay; go back to your bairns, and God bless +you—<i>ane is enough for a sacrifice</i>.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was well for Scotland that the heart of George +Wishart was thus “at leisure from itself.” Had he +granted Knox’s affectionate entreaty, another name +would probably have been added to the noble army of +martyrs, but the Reformation would have lacked its +great leader, the one man who could bend and sway the +hearts of thousands. Little, however, did the Duncans +suspect all this; and very lightly would they have +esteemed the life of John Knox in comparison with <i>his</i> +over whose head they saw the martyr’s crown suspended.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie continued, “Sae he gaed wi’ the laird and a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>wheen ither gentlemen to Ormistoun, whaur he was to +sleep. It chanced they had to walk, by reason o’ the +muckle frost. After supper he talked happily wi’ his +friends o’ the death o’ God’s dear children; then, being +weary, he said, ‘Methinks I desire earnestly to sleep. +Will we sing a psalm?’ Near as he lived to Christ, the +lowliest words o’ penitence and prayer seemed best to +suit his heart’s need that nicht. Sae he waled the fifty-first, +frae the “gude and godly ballates,’—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“‘Have mercy on me now, good Lord,</div> + <div class='line in2'>After thy great mercy;</div> + <div class='line'>My sinful life does me remord,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Whilk sair has grievit thee;</div> + <div class='line'>But thy great grace has me restored,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Through grace to liberty:</div> + <div class='line'>To thy mercy with thee will I go.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>“Whilk being sung, he gaed to his chalmer, saying to +his friends as they parted, ‘God grant quiet rest.’ But +na quiet rest was for God’s weary servant that nicht. +Ere midnicht Lord Bothwell, wi’ his men-at-arms, had +beset the house.<a id='r17'></a><a href='#f17' class='c014'><sup>[17]</sup></a> Sae soon as he kenned their purpose, +Maister Wishart said to the laird, ‘Open the gates, and +let the blessed will of my God be done.’ Sair grieved +was the laird to do it, but it had to be. Forbye, Lord +Bothwell had gien express promise ‘that he should be +safe, and that it should pass the power o’ the Cardinal +to do him scaith or harm.’ And this said he owre again +to Maister Wishart himsel, in the presence o’ the lairds +<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>his friends. ‘Neither sall the Governor or the Cardinal +hae their will o’ ye, but I sall retain ye in my ain hands +and in my ain place, until that either I sall mak’ ye +free, or else restore ye in the same place where I receive +ye.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And the lairds answered, ‘Gin ye do this, my lord, we +will serve ye our haill lives lang, wi’ a’ the men o’ Lothian +wha profess Christ’s evangel.’ Sae they a’ straik +hands upon it, and made solemn promise as in God’s +presence.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But sma’ thocht o’ God was in Lord Bothwell’s +mind. Maist like he meant fair at first; but the Cardinal +gied muckle gowd, and the Queen’s grace<a id='r18'></a><a href='#f18' class='c014'><sup>[18]</sup></a> gied guidly +words, and sae—and sae—amang them a’ God’s servant +was bought and sold. First the Lord Governor had him +in his keeping in Edinburgh Castle. Wae’s me! but few +days passed then, until he lichtly gied him up into the +hands o’ him that sought his life.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What say the Dundee folk to a’ this, Jamie?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s no that lang sin’ the tidings came for sure, that +they had haled him to St. Andrews. A’ the faithful +make sair lamentation, but I needna tell ye <i>that</i>, +Mary” (and his own voice faltered)—“The cry is aye +and aye, ‘My father, my father, the chariot of Israel and +the horsemen thereof.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary shuddered. “Oh, Jamie, do ye no think what +<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>that minds me of? The chariot—of <i>fire</i>!” The last +word was rather breathed than spoken; yet the loudest +thunder-peal could not have sent such a thrill through +both those hearts.</p> + +<p class='c013'>James Duncan covered his face, and did not speak for +a long time. At last he said, “Young folk like Archie +are weel nigh daft, because the gentlemen and a’ the +lave wha hae heard the blessed word o’ truth frae his +lips, sit still the noo in their quiet hames while the +Cardinal pays him for his message wi’—wi’ <i>that</i>. But +they couldna save him. The haill power o’ the realm is +against them.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Archie, puir lad, ’ill be sair troubled.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay; but he’s had his arm broken.” What would at +another time have been considered a serious misfortune, +now scarcely caused Mary a start. So true it is that “a +great grief kills all the rest.” She asked, however, how +it happened.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“A’ anent thae waefu’ tidings. There be some, of +course, amang the tounsfolk wha haud still by the +Cardinal and the priests. The lads fecht their forbears’ +quarrels owre again, and whiles they dinna spare to use +waur weapons than their tongues. Our Archie wadna +stint to gie as guid as he got, ony gait. But it chanced +he fell in wi’ a wheen silly callants, wha had learned frae +the priests to ca’ Maister Wishart a heretic. He gied +them back the word, that he was na heretic, but the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>noblest man and the best Christian in a’ Scotland. That +was unco weel; but then he was sae far left to himsel, +that he maun curse the bluidy Cardinal in a loud voice, +and pray God wad send him an evil end. Wi’ that +somebody flang a muckle stane at him, and, lifting his +arm to save his head, he had it broken.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’m wae for that, ilka gait,” said Mary. “Sic’ paivies +couldna do God’s servant ony guid.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“True; but the broken arm willna do Archie muckle +harm. It’s a kind o’ comfort to him to hae something +to thole, and keeps him a bit quiet. I gared Maister +Wilson promise to send him here sae soon as he could.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Jamie,” said Mary after a pause, and rather hesitatingly, +“will ye no tak’ yer supper, man?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie drew forward towards the table, which had +been spread by Mary with such loving care. His eye +rested on the little tokens of anxious thought for his +comfort, then wandered round the cheerful pleasant room, +to their store of treasured books—to the bright fireside—to +the cot near it where their infant slept. With a +quick movement he turned away, and veiled his face to +hide the tears he could no longer restrain. “Oh, Mary,” +he said, “I’m fear’t it’s no sae cheery as this the nicht—in +the Sea Tower o’ St. Andrews!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But, Jamie, God can make the dark gruesome dungeon +mair bright wi’ his presence than the summer sky +wi’ sunshine. Can we no trust our dear father in Christ +<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>in the loving hands o’ the guid Maister he served sae +faithfu’? While yet he walked amang us God was his +portion, why suld we doot that even noo he can be his +exceeding great reward?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary Duncan’s words were true. No record indeed +remains to us of the month during which he lay, “straitly +bound in irons,” in that “nook in the bottom of the Sea +Tower, a place where many of God’s children had been +imprisoned before,”<a id='r19'></a><a href='#f19' class='c014'><sup>[19]</sup></a>—unless the faith and love, shown +so soon afterwards by the captain of the castle, may be +counted a record of work done for Christ in that solemn +interval. But it has well been said, “There has been +a joy in dungeons and on racks passing the joy of +harvest. A joy strange and solemn, mysterious even to +its possessor. A white stone dropped from that signet-ring, +peace, which a dying Saviour took from his own +bosom, and bequeathed to those who endure the cross, +despising the shame.” If that white stone has been +ever given (and most assuredly it has), we may presume +it was not withheld, in the hour of loneliness and +suffering, from Christ’s faithful soldier and servant, +George Wishart.</p> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_189.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>XIII.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>“He giveth his beloved Sleep.”</span></h2> +</div> +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“I bless Thee for the quiet rest thy servant taketh now,</div> + <div class='line'>I bless Thee for his blessedness, and for his crownèd brow;</div> + <div class='line'>For every weary step he trod in faithful following Thee,</div> + <div class='line'>And for the good fight foughten well, and closed right valiantly.”</div> + <div class='line in32'><cite>Lays of the Kirk and Covenant.</cite></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_189b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_191.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>XIII.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>“He giveth his beloved Sleep.”</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_191.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +Heavy was the cloud of sorrow that brooded +now over the once cheerful home at Dunsinnane +Brae. “All joy was darkened, the +mirth of the land was gone.” Mary moved with hushed +footsteps about her household duties, speaking little, but +praying much. Many a quiet tear dropped over her +baby’s cradle; many a time the psalm she tried to sing +died away in low sobs; nor could she even recall the +precious words of Scripture for her own comfort, without +too vividly recalling with them the thought of him who +was suffering for the crime of having brought to her and +to others that living water. Jamie’s grief was less +resigned and patient than hers. Certain very old perplexities +about the works of God and his ways with the +children of men sorely haunted and troubled him. With +these came thoughts of anger and bitterness, only too +natural under the circumstances. Mary often heard him +murmur, “How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou +<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>not judge and avenge?”—But he could never bear to +complete the sentence.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Soon afterwards Archie, who was now wonderfully +subdued and quiet, joined their party. He brought with +him from Dundee the tidings that the Cardinal had +asked the Governor for a temporal judge to pronounce +sentence upon the heretic; but that it was hoped and +expected he would refuse the request, which indeed he +did, telling the Cardinal that “he would not meddle +with the blood of that good man.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Further than this, for three slow and sorrowful weeks +they heard nothing. One evening they had just concluded +their wonted family worship, in which the prayer +was never omitted, that God would hear his servant in +the day of trouble, send him help from the sanctuary, +and strengthen him out of Zion. Jamie’s voice faltered +sorely as he offered it; and, on rising from his +knees, he drew Mary aside and said to her, “It’s na use. +I canna bide here ony langer. I maun gang to St. +Andrews.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mary started at this announcement.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“To St. Andrews, Jamie! What gars ye think o’ +that?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wad learn a’ there, and—and—aiblins see his face +again.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Eh, but that’s no like to be,—God wot,” she added +very earnestly, “gin you could bring him but sae muckle +<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>comfort as a cup o’ cauld water, I wadna haud ye back, +an’ ye were to set your ain life in the bawk to do it. But +ye couldna. Think on’t yersel; ye ken weel they wadna +let you see him. It’s naebut a fule thocht, Jamie.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No just that. We canna get the bit news our hearts +are aching for, but I maun gang a’ the gait to Dundee. +St. Andrews is no sae muckle farther.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay is it, owre twice as far. But it’s no the distance. +It’s that I canna see the guid on’t. Forbye, Jamie, St. +Andrews is the Cardinal’s ain town.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Weel, what matters that to a puir simple man like +me, wha naebody kens?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye might be owre gleg wi’ yer tongue.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jamie shook his head impatiently, was silent for a few +moments, and then wisely shifted his ground. He had +made a mistake, in attempting to reason at all about +what was not a matter of reason, but of feeling.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s a’ true what ye say, Mary. But ye maunna +keep me back, for it’s <i>borne in on me</i> I suld gang. Fule +thocht or no, I canna rest till I do it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>The woman’s nature responded to this appeal. She +answered immediately, “Then do a’ that’s in thine heart, +Jamie. But oh,” she added, “for the sake o’ yon bit +bairn in the cradle, be prudent, man, and dinna be +thinkin’ out loud!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ne’er fear for me. I havena done sae muckle for +my Lord that he suld honour me to suffer for him. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>But it’s my thought aye and aye, an’ I gae to St. +Andrews, aiblins he’ll gie me an answer here to the +question that’s rackin’ my heart baith day and nicht, +‘Thou art o’ purer eyes than to behold evil, an’ canst +not look on iniquity, wharefore lookest thou on them +that deal treacherously, and haudest thy tongue when +the wicked devoureth the man that is mair righteous +than he?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>James Duncan acted on his impulse. It may be the +highest wisdom of a wise man to do this occasionally; +for “the heart has its reasons, which the reason cannot +comprehend.” He was enough of a Scotchman, however, +to be prudent in his way of doing even what might +be considered an imprudent action. In order to cover +his real purpose, he found a plausible business errand +to a brother of Janet’s husband, one Walter Graham, +who resided at St. Andrews. And being well aware +how little Archie’s discretion could be counted upon, he +steadily refused his passionate entreaties to be permitted +to accompany him. It was perhaps fortunate +that he had another very sufficient reason for this +refusal, as the boy was still weak and suffering from the +effects of his accident. Janet volunteered to remain +with Mary and the invalided Archie at the farm during +the few days of the master’s absence; and he set out on +foot, intending to cross the Firth of Tay, and in this +manner to accomplish the journey in a single day. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>Thus the man, as man ever will, found relief for his +sorrow in action, in motion, in excitement; while the +woman, as woman so often must, sat at home, and +suffered and kept silence.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Three anxious days passed heavily by at Dunsinnane +Brae. But on the evening of the third, a little after +sunset, James Duncan returned home. So calm, it might +almost be said so radiant, was his countenance, that at +the first glance his impetuous young brother could not +help exclaiming, “Is he saved, Jamie—tell us, is he +saved?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Saved—ay, that he is! Ane day and nicht (but +there’s nae nicht there) has he been in his Saviour’s +presence, and is no that enoo to pay for a’ he suffered +here?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh but, Jamie—did God let them do their waurst?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nae doot he kens noo that the <i>waurst</i> cruel men +could do was just the <i>best</i> his Lord could appoint for +him. And I’m amaist come to that mysel. What I +hae seen is wonnerfu’.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Let my God provide for me as best pleaseth him,” +had George Wishart said; and God had not denied him +the request of his lips. But truly man’s worst is often +His best for his chosen. Our love is timid, shrinking, +more fearful even of inflicting than of enduring pain; +His is broad, and strong, and far-seeing, as well as tender. +Could we have our will with the dark tragedies of earth’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>history, should we not be often tempted to find for them +some softer termination? But,—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“God himself is the true poet,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And the real is his song.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>And with deep meaning has it been said, that “he +whom the poet loves he allows to suffer.” For the heart +attuned to comprehend its beauty, no sweeter poem was +ever sung than the life that ended at St. Andrews, upon +that 1st of March 1546.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As soon as the others were calm enough to hear it, +James Duncan told his tale:—“I hae tint my gait,” he +said, “after I crossed Tay Frith, and I fand mysel at +Cupar—no that a’ that matters noo; but in sae far that +it gared me bide there the nicht. Neist morn (and no +sae early either, for I was owre forfoughten) I walked +the sax mile to St. Andrews. Being come there, straight +I ken’d that something by-ordinar was on hand. Castle +and town were full o’ spearmen and jackmen, wi’ knapscall +splent and axe; and folk were busy loading the +muckle guns in the Towers. I thocht first it was for +fechting, and that there maun hae been a stour in the +town, but soon I changed my mind. Passing the East +Tower, I saw nigh the Abbey, at the foot o’ Castle +Wynd, men biggin’<a id='r20'></a><a href='#f20' class='c014'><sup>[20]</sup></a> <i>something</i>, I ken’d na what. But +ainst I looked up at the castle, I had it a’ fixed: the +folk were naebut making holiday, and they were biggin’ +<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>a stage for a clerk-play, or sic like. For the hail fore +tower was decked out wi’ braw gear,—velvet cushions, +tapestry curtains, and the lave,—as for the Cardinal and +the kirkmen to look on and tak’ their ease. By-an’-by, +I askit ane o’ the jackmen wha stood on guard what a’ +this suld mean. He answered me cold and careless,—‘They’re +gaun to burn Maister Wishart, and yon’s naebut +for my lord and the bishops to see the ploy.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“<i>Curse them!</i>” cried Archie.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Whisht, callant!—I cursed them ainst mysel, and +that bitterly,—but I hae done wi’ cursing noo. Weel, +I just said, ‘The Lord require it,’ and leaned back +against the wa’. Na for a’ the muckle warld wad I +fecht thro’ sic’ an hour again! I thocht my heart maun +break, no just wi’ grief for <i>him</i>, but wi’ rage an’ bitter +hate. Christ’s gentle, loving servant, wha had wared +his haill life doing guid, to dee in cruel torture,—and +thae fiends to sit yonder, in their hatefu’ pomp an’ pride, +to <i>enjoy</i> the sight o’ his agony! ‘Serpents, generation +o’ vipers, how wad they escape the damnation o’ hell?’ +I was blythe to think they wadna escape it. Wi’ an +awfu’ thirl o’ joy the thocht gaed thro’ and thro’ me, +that the smoke o’ their torment wad gang up for aye and +aye in the presence o’ the holy angels. It’s nae word to +say I wad hae slain the bluidy Cardinal wi’ my ain hand; +I’d hae deemed a quick death like that owre muckle +guid for him—it was no to <i>that</i> death he doomed his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>victim. Sae I gied him up in my heart to God’s ain +fearfu’ vengeance, and I lifted my hand to heaven to +curse him in his holy name.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But when I thocht upon God I was troubled. For +I minded that <i>he saw a’ this</i>. He beheld, frae his +dwelling-place, the cruel triumph of his enemies, the +bitter suffering of his dear, faithfu’ servant. Yet he +bided still, and gied nae sign. The sky was clear and +blue;—he sent nae thunnerstorm to smite the guilty +town. Had he indeed forsaken him? Did he no care +what happened? Were the murderer and the martyr +alike to him? Ye may weel look fear’t, Mary, thae +were gruesome wicked thochts—but God had mercy on +me.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Belyve<a id='r21'></a><a href='#f21' class='c014'><sup>[21]</sup></a> a braw gentleman, wi’ sword and broidered +doublet, passed quick by us. The man wha had spoken +wi’ me made him a salute, and said, ‘Yon’s our captain.’ +Unkenning what I did, I gied ane glint at his face. +Sadder face hae I never seen upon living man! He +looked as he’d hae gien the haill warld just to greet like +a bit bairn, but daredna do it <i>then</i>. I couldna help +mysel, I gaed richt up to him, and said, ‘Sir, in God’s +name, tell me gin this thing be true?’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He didna answer me sae quick; but he peered in +my face as he’d hae read the vera thochts o’ my heart. +Indeed, I trow ilka ane of us read the ither’s heart, for +<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>the een whiles can say mair than the tongue. At last +he speired o’ me, ‘Be you a friend o’ his?’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I said, ‘Nae mair than thousands wha hae heard the +Word o’ Life frae his lips, and wad be blythe to dee for +him the day, gin that might be.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Ye haud his faith?’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Dearer than my heart’s bluid.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Follow me then,’ sayeth he, ‘in the name o’ our +Lord Jesus Christ.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Muckle wonnerin’, I did as he bade. As we passed +alang to a postern o’ the castle, he spake but ane word +mair to me,—‘He sall hae his last wish the day, despite +a’ the bishops in Scotland.’ Then a familiar<a id='r22'></a><a href='#f22' class='c014'><sup>[22]</sup></a> having +opened to us, he gied me in his charge, and we parted. +I was led to a quiet, pleasant room, and left there my +lane. Like ane in a dream I looked around me, and +felt a kind o’ wonner at seeing ilka thing sae still and +hame-like. As tho’ that day were like ither days, and +folk could eat and drink, there was a fair white cloth +laid on the table, wi’ bread and wine, and sic’, upon’t. +Belyve, there dropped in quietly ane, an’ anither, an’ +anither. Aiblins the maist part were the captain’s ain +househald, but I ken there were mair by than that. +Ane thing was sure, they a’ feared the Lord. Strange +it seemed to me to meet God’s children <i>there</i>, in the +vera seat o’ Satan. But I soon learned frae their talk +<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>what had happened. It was but that morn they had +tried and condemned him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Their feet were swift to shed bluid,” said Archie. +“What need to try him ava’?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It was naebut for fear the folk suld say he was +unjustly slain, as indeed they spared not to avow.” +James Duncan paused for a moment, and suppressed a +bitter sigh. “I canna just tell a’ they tald me o’ that +trial as calm as I ought. Tho’ it’s a’ by noo, the heart +maun burn still at the cruel insults heaped on Christ’s +servant. They gied him to drink verra deep of his +Maister’s cup; he was mocked, reviled,—even spit upon. +But he tholed a’ wi’ grand and sweet patience; not ainst, +they say, did e’en a change come owre his face. Sae +calmly and bravely he defended God’s truth, that the folk +wha filled the Abbey Kirk—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Auld wives and doited carles they maun hae been to +bide it. They suld hae torn the Cardinal in pieces and +saved him!” Archie burst forth impetuously, every nerve +in his frame quivering with passion. Mary and Janet +were weeping quietly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Callant, what could they do? I hae said the town +was filled wi’ soldiers; and the gunners stood ready at +the muckle guns till a’ was done. Ane hundert jackmen, +wi’ spear, splent, and axe, guarded the prisoner. But +the folk gied him what they could. Ainst, a priest wha +said the devil was in him, had the word gien back to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>him quick by ‘ane young scholar boy’ in the crowd, +‘It’s a devilish tale to say that. The devil never moved +to speak as yon man speaks.’ Again, as he spake o’ the +priesthood of a’ God’s children, the bishops drowned his +voice wi’ a shout of insulting laughter. Sae soon as he +might be heard, he said gently, ‘Do ye laugh, my lords? +Though these sayings appear to your lordships scornful +and worthy of derision, yet they are very weighty to me, +and of great value, for they stand not only upon my life, +but also upon the honour and glory of God.’ When +folk’s hearts are owre full, a sma’ thing’ll gar them greet; +many wha were present brake forth into tears at this, +nor did they even fear to make lamentation for him aloud. +And at last, ere their wark was done, the bishops were +fain to put the people forth, for they daredna trust them +mair.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ane that came in later than the lave, tald us that +Dean John Wynram, the sub-prior o’ the Abbey, wha +preached the sermon in the kirk that morn before them +a’, having spoken afterwards wi’ Maister Wishart, was +moved to the vera heart; sae that he gaed, weeping +bitterly, to the bluidy Cardinal himsel, wi’ a’ his priests +and bishops, and tald him plainly, that ‘Maister Wishart +was an innocent man, and that he said this, not to intercede +for his life, but to make known his innocency +unto all men, as it was known already unto God.’ +May God remember that man for guid, and bring him, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>in his grace, to a clear knowledge o’ the Truth, for the +whilk his servant suffered!</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But maist eager for his death, after the cruel Cardinal +himsel, was the Archbishop o’ Glasgow. Folk couldna +fail to mind it was no that lang sin’ he came to Ayr, wi’ +his jackmen and spearmen, to tak’ the muckle heretic. +But he fand him wi’ a’ the Westland gentlemen around +him, sword in hand. Ye mind then how he seized the +kirk, and how, as at Mauchline, the angry gentlefolk +wad hae driven him forth waur than he came, hadna +God’s servant withheld them, saying, ‘Let him alane; +his sermon will not much hurt. Let us go to the Mercat +Cross.’ Bitter thanks the bishop gied him for the same! +But at least Maister Wishart had his will; ‘the Word sent +by him was a word o’ peace,’ na bluid was shed for it—<i>but +his ain</i>.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We were talking o’ these things amang oursels wi’ +sad hearts, when the captain came again, and wi’ him—the +man sae dear to us a’.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, Jamie! Then, ye saw him?” Jamie bowed his +head.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Was he changed?” asked Mary in a trembling voice.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He was pale and worn-looking, but ye’d scarce hae +thocht o’ that; for God’s peace was in his face, gin it’s +ever been in man’s.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then he wasna fear’t?” asked Janet.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“<i>Fear’t</i>, Janet? He was naebut gaun ‘unto God, his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>exceeding joy.’ But I couldna but mind the day he +knelt by my bedside sae kind and gentle, and a great +sob came up like a wave frae the bottom o’ my heart. +Wi’ a’ my strength I forced it back, and kept still, +warsling wi’ mysel, while the lave pressed round and +talked wi’ him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But presently I heard him say, ‘I beseik ye, my +brethren, to be silent for a little while, that I may bless +this bread according to our Saviour’s ordinance, and so +take my leave of you.’ He was sae calm himsel, that +he calmed us a’. He gared us come to the table; and +we were soon seated there, as for a simple meal, yet +kenning full weel the place was na ither than the house +o’ God, the vera gate o’ heaven.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And sic’ God made it to us. Oh Mary, it was +wonnerfu’ to hear a man talk o’ Christ, wha we kenned, +ere that day’s sun set, suld see Him eye to eye. It was +amaist as though he <i>had</i> seen Him, even then. He +seemed to tak’ us wi’ him—abune—ayont a’ earth’s grief +and dolor, into the strange peace and quiet of our Lord’s +ain immediate presence. He spake first o’ the institution +of the Lord’s Supper, then of his sufferings and his +death for us. He made us a’ think o’ that, till, looking +at the Cross, we amaist forgot the stake that was sae +near us. Nae doot but <i>he</i> forgot it!</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But ye ken that in the old times, Mary, he never +failed to bring the truth hame to our ain hearts and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>lives. And sae it was the noo. Maist lovingly he +pleaded wi’ us, by that Death for us, to love ane anither +‘as perfect members of Christ, wha intercedes continually +for us to God the Father.’ And he bade us lay aside, for +His name’s sake, a’ rancour, envy, <i>vengeance</i>!—Weel we +kenned what he meant! Archie, lad, it seemed no hard +to do it then, wi’ sic’ thochts before us. I looked for a’ +the rage and hate that a wheen agone had filled my soul +wi’ the bitterness o’ death, and lo! they were gone; +Christ’s love had melted them awa’. Frae the vera +depth o’ my heart I forgave that hour—even the cruel +Cardinal. And I think we a’ did the same. This was +the last lesson <i>he</i> taught us.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then he blessed the bread and wine, and having tasted +them himsel, he gied to ilka ane of us. I feel the thirl +yet o’ his hand touching mine, and his voice saying to +me, ‘Remember that Christ died for thee, and feed on +Him in thy heart by faith.’ Still mair when he gied the +cup, that the kirkmen say we daurna touch.”—Here at +last Jamie’s voice failed, and he was silent for some +moments. Presently he resumed, “After this he gied +thanks, and prayed for us. Then he said, ‘I shall +neither eat nor drink more in this life. There is a more +bitter cup prepared for me, only because I have preached +the true Word of God; but pray for me, that I may take +it patiently, as from his hand.’ And sae, having bade +us a’ farewell, he gaed forth.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>“Did ye greet?” asked Janet.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Not ane tear till he was awa’. We wadna grieve +him wi’ our grief; forbye, ere he had done, our hearts +were owre full of a kind of awfu’ happiness that left nae +thocht o’ grief. But then—when a’ was by,”—again his +voice died away.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Archie broke the silence,—“It was just like him to +help and comfort a’body else to the vera last minute, wi’ +nae thocht nor care for himsel.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It was like his Lord,” said Mary’s low soft voice. +“Thank God a’ yer life ye hae seen him thus, Jamie.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I hae seen him ainst mair.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Sure ye daredna see the end?”—the question was +Archie’s.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’d hae dared onything then. I said to mysel, ‘Am +I sae weak that I canna thole to <i>see</i> what he maun +suffer? Gin a’ that love him hae sic’ coward hearts, he’ll +be left, that dreadfu’ hour, his lane amang faes and +strangers.’ Sae I gaed wi’ the lave.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Archie, Mary, dinna ask me to say muckle on’t! I +canna—no just yet. Aiblins when lang years are by, +and our hairs are gray, we’ll talk it owre wi’ mair quiet +hearts; but noo”—</p> + +<p class='c013'>After a long pause he went on, shading his face, and +bringing out every word slowly and with effort. “I saw +him led to the stake—the gibbet I suld say, for nae +shame or scorning they could devise was spared him. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>His hands bound behind him, a rope round his neck, +and a muckle chain—oh Mary, dinna greet like that, it’s +a’ by noo. Shame, did I say? God’s bright angels might +hae envied him the glory o’ that hour. Gin ye’d seen +his face as I did, ye’d hae thocht sae. His spirit had +just been in sic’ close communion wi’ the Lord he loved; +he was gaun straight to the mair perfect fellowship +abune; and this was naebut a bit passage,—ane step +between the twa,—Christ’s presence in grace here, +Christ’s presence in glory up yonder.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Vera gentle were his words to a’, baith friend and +fae. Even to the beggars, wha met him on the way, he +couldna but gie a word o’ comfort. ‘I want my hands, +wherewith I wont to give you alms. But the merciful +Lord, of his benignity and abundant grace, that feedeth +all men, vouchsafe to give you necessaries, both unto +your bodies and souls.’ And when the Grayfriars +troubled him, urging him to pray to our Lady, he +answered meekly, ‘Cease to tempt me, I entreat you, +my brethren.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Being come to the place, he kneeled down and +prayed, ‘O thou Saviour of the world, have mercy upon +me. Father of Heaven, I commend my spirit into thy +holy hands.’ Then he spake to the people. I hae +brought ye his last message, Mary. I think my heart +has gathered ilka ane o’ the words he spake. For the +hot airn takes the stamp, and keeps it for aye.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>“‘I pray you,’ he said to them that stood around, +‘show my brethren and sisters, which have heard me +oft before, that they cease not nor leave off to learn the +Word of God, which I taught unto them after the grace +given unto me, for no persecutions or troubles in this +world, which lasteth not. And show unto them, that +my doctrine was no wives’ fables, after the constitutions +made by men; and if I had taught men’s doctrine, I +had gotten greater thanks by men. But for the Word’s +sake and true evangel, which was given to me by the +grace of God, I suffer this day, not sorrowfully, but with +a glad heart and mind. Consider and behold my visage, +ye sall not see me change my colour. This grim fire I +fear not; and so I pray you for to do, if that any persecution +come to you for the sake of the Word, and not +to fear them that slay the body, and after that have no +power to slay the soul. Some have said of me, that I +taught that the soul of man should sleep until the last +day; but I know surely that my soul shall sup with my +Saviour this night, or it be six hours, for whom I suffer +this.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then prayed he for his enemies in sic’ words as +thae: ‘I beseik the Father of Heaven to forgive them +that have, of any ignorance, or else of any evil mind, +forged lies upon me; I forgive them with all mine heart; +I beseik Christ to forgive them that have condemned +me to death this day ignorantly.’</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>“But no yet was done his last act o thoughtfu’ love. +For we marked that the doomster<a id='r23'></a><a href='#f23' class='c014'><sup>[23]</sup></a> kneeled unto him, +and maist earnestly prayed his forgiveness, saying he +was in no ways guilty of his death. To whom he said, +‘Come hither to me.’ When he was come, he kissed +him on the cheek, wi’ the words, ‘Lo, here is a token +that I forgive thee. My friend, do thine office.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>A long, long silence followed. At last Archie murmured +through his tears, “What then?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then—the end came. But my coward heart failed +me; I could thole nae mair. Scarce kenning what I +did, I gat me frae the place, frae the town. I dinna +mind aething, till belyve I fand mysel in a bit quiet +grassy spot. There I threw mysel on my knees, and +tried hard to cry to God. It were sae easy for Him to +tak’ a’ the bitter pain awa’, and gie his servant peace in +that last awfu’ hour. The ‘grim fire’ needna hurt, gin +He willed it sae. For fire and hail, snaw and vapour, +alike fulfil His word. A’ my heart gaed up in ane last +prayer for him; and I took nae thocht o’ time, till at +length the sound of a bell frae the Abbey Kirk struck +my ear. Then my prayers changed to praises. For I +kenned it was the saxt hour, and I minded the martyr’s +words, ‘Ere it be sax hours, my soul shall sup wi’ Christ +my Saviour.’ Nae truer thirl o’ joy do I ever think to +feel, were I to live a hundert year on earth. I couldna +<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>but cry aloud, wi’ clasped hands, and tears that were a’ +for gladness, ‘Thou hast gien thy servant ‘quiet rest’ +at last. I thank thee, O my Father!’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“God be thanked for <i>him</i>. He rests frae his labours, +and his warks do follow him.—But it’s the waefu’ day for +us!” sobbed Archie, who although at an age when boys +are more ashamed of tears than men, had for some time +been weeping without restraint.</p> + +<p class='c013'>James Duncan laid his hand gently on his shoulder. +“Brither,” he said, “daur ye stand this day by the word +ye spake when ye waled sic’ a life as his aboon ilka ither? +Can ye drink o’ that cup, think ye?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>The boy raised his head quickly, dashed his tears +away, and said with deep emotion, “I’d rather live sic’ a +life and dee sic’ a death, than be king owre a’ the muckle +warld, wi’ a’ the honour and glory o’t. But,” he added +presently, and in a lower voice, “it’s no by might or by +power, but by the Lord’s ain Spirit; the whilk he’ll no +deny e’en to a puir sinfu’ lad like me, wha asks it this +day for his dear Son’s sake.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Amen,” said James Duncan.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then they wept together, long and bitterly, like +orphaned children for a beloved father. But with their +tears were mingled earnest prayers that they might be +enabled to follow his faith, considering the end of his +conversation.</p> + +<p class='c013'>George Wishart entered into rest at the comparatively +<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>early age of thirty-three (as is supposed). His ministry, +after his return to Scotland, did not last more than two, +or at the most, three years. But both that ministry +itself, and the martyrdom that crowned and consecrated +it, were very fruitful in results. In the strong words of +Burnet, “Not any one thing hastened forward the +Reformation more than this did.... And it was now so +much opened by his preaching, and that was so confirmed +by his death, that the nation was generally possessed by +the love of it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>It seems strange, however, that the story of one of +Christ’s gentlest servants should be so associated with a +deed of blood and vengeance, that the martyrdom of +Wishart is seldom mentioned without recalling at the +same time the assassination of Cardinal Beaton. We +may not account for the gleam of prophetic vision that +crossed the martyr’s spirit, prompting those strange +words, said to have been spoken from the midst of the +flames to that faithful friend who stood so near him +that he was himself actually injured by the fire, “Captain, +God forgive yon man who sits so proudly on that +wall-head; but I know that he shall soon lie there in +greater shame than he now sits in glory.” But if life and +death have both their many mysteries, above all “dark +with light of mysteries” is the dim region between them. +Who knows how God may then speak to the soul? The +real difficulty is, not that in that hour he was pleased to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>reveal something to his servant, but that the thing +revealed was not of a nature to have given him joy or +comfort.<a id='r24'></a><a href='#f24' class='c014'><sup>[24]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c013'>This much is certain, no one who has felt all the +glory of that death, so bright with courage and patience, +and with the gentleness of Christ, could regard the +other death, in such dark sad contrast, with any feelings +but those of mournful pity. The scene was not without +a sombre grandeur of its own. The heart throbs yet at +the solemn words of the avenger of blood, spoken with +his sword at the breast of his trembling victim, “Repent +thee of thy former wicked life, but especially of the +blood of that notable instrument of God, Master George +Wishart, which albeit the fire consumed before men, yet +cries for vengeance upon thee, and we are sent from +God to avenge it. For here, before God, I protest that +neither the hatred of thy person, nor the love of thy +riches, nor the fear of any trouble thou couldst have +done to me in particular, moved or moves me to strike +thee, but only because thou art an obstinate enemy of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>Christ Jesus and his holy evangel.” And still we seem +to hear the echo of that “dismal cry, full of eternity’s +despair,” with which the guilty spirit passed.—“All is +gone!” The retribution was complete. That the townspeople +might believe their Cardinal was really dead, the +assassins flung his body, with scorn and insult, upon +that very “fore tower” from which he beheld the martyr’s +sufferings.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Perhaps other humble Christians may have felt as the +Duncans did when the news of this event reached the +quiet home of Dunsinnane Brae. Archie indeed could +not help exclaiming, “‘Hell frae beneath is moved for +thee at thy coming, it stirreth up the dead for thee.’ +Eh, and willna Herod, and Pontius Pilate, and a’ the +wicked heathen kings be blythe to see him there?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But James Duncan said, “Whisht, callant. It’s no +for us to tak’ sic’ awfu’ words in our mouths. Nae mair +than it was for <i>them</i> to tak’ at their ain hands that +vengeance, of the whilk God has said, ‘It is mine.’ But +Mary, woman, sure ye’re no greeting for him?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No for the Cardinal, Jamie. But for ane wha, had +he been alive the day, wadna hae let them touch a hair +o’ his head. I amaist think,” added Mary, her tears +falling faster, “I amaist think he’d hae said, as he did +ainst before, ‘<i>He that troubles him troubles me.</i>’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But, ye ken, it was to avenge him they did it, +Mary.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>“They suld hae left that to the Lord he loved. His +cause was unco safe in his guid hand. Wae’s me! what +gared them touch it ava’?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And thus, without unseemly triumph or exultation, they +left the cruel Cardinal to the just award of his great Judge. +They had once fought the battle with anger and hatred, +and having, by God’s grace, gained the victory, it had +not to be fought over again.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The quiet current of their own lives flowed on undisturbed +by any striking event. James Duncan did for +his child what other Christian laymen were at that time +obliged to do for theirs. He baptized it himself, in the +name of the Father, Son, and Spirit, commending it to +the tender care of the Good Shepherd, and praying him +earnestly to suffer this little one to come unto him. +And his prayer was heard. George Duncan feared the +God of his father from his youth upwards. There +rested indeed upon all the family that blessing of the +Lord which maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow with +it. James and Mary saw their children’s children, and +peace upon the Israel of their native land, God’s faithful +“congregation” in Scotland.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The minister’s martyr death was the message God +sent home to Archie’s young ardent soul. He lived to +realise his boyish dream; for</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,</div> + <div class='line'>And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>He became himself a preacher of the gospel, a good +steward of the manifold grace of God. When, twelve +years afterwards, his native town of Dundee “began to +erect the face of a publick churche reformed, in the +which the Worde was openlie preached, and Christ’s +Sacramentis trewlie ministrat,” he was amongst those +“zealous men who did exhort their brethren according +to the gifts and graces granted unto them.” Thus the +lips silenced by fire at St. Andrews spoke on still, as +well in the living burning words which other lips caught +up from theirs, as in the voiceless eloquence of thousands +of holy lives, extending and transmitting their influence +for good in wider and ever wider circles of blessing.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Two years after the establishment of the Reformation +in Dundee, the faith for which George Wishart died +became the recognised faith of Scotland. “Nor was +this long in doing, nor did many suffer after” him; only +two indeed—Adam Wallace, and brave old Walter +Mill—were privileged to lay down their lives at the +stake, before “the kingdom of God evidently appeared +and triumphed in despite of Satan.”</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Round went the message, over rock and plain,</div> + <div class='line'>Like burning words from lips of prophet old;</div> + <div class='line'>Priest, lord, and king, opposed the voice in vain,—</div> + <div class='line in2'>It would not be controlled.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Wide o’er the land went forth the new-born day,</div> + <div class='line'>Brightening alike the cot, the hall, the throne;</div> + <div class='line'>Long years of darkness vanish at its ray,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Ages of night have gone.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>“The Christ has come, the breaker of all chains,</div> + <div class='line'>The giver of the heavenly liberty.</div> + <div class='line'>Peace, light, and freedom, to these hills and plains,—</div> + <div class='line in2'>The land—the land is free!”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>And after three centuries, still the land is free, and +peace and light have their habitation there. Happy +Scotland, land of Schools and Bibles, land of God-fearing +men and women! As we climb thy glorious hills, or +wander over thy peaceful plains, so rich in all that can +please the eye or stir the fancy, and hear the voice of +prayer and praise arise from hall and cottage, and behold +the Sabbath esteemed a delight, the holy of the +Lord, honourable—there floats back upon the ear, like +sweet music from the distance, the echo of those words +spoken so long ago by one of thy noblest martyr sons,—</p> + +<p class='c005'>“<span class='sc'>This realm shall be illumined with the light +of Christ’s Evangel, as clearly as any realm ever +was since the days of the apostles. God’s house +shall be built in it; yea, it shall not lack the +very copestone.</span>”</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_215.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_217.jpg' alt='THE PRIOR' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_219.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>I.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>Tithing the Fish.</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“The boatie rows, the boatie rows,</div> + <div class='line in2'>The boatie rows fu’ weel;</div> + <div class='line'>And muckle luck attend the boat,</div> + <div class='line in2'>The merlin, and the creel.”</div> + <div class='line in28'><cite>Old Scotch Song.</cite></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_219b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_221.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>I.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>Tithing the Fish.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_221.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +“Tak’ guid counsel when ye get it, man,” said +the Laird of Lauriston to his brother +David, who was pacing up and down the +hall of Lauriston Castle in a state of considerable +excitement.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Thole it, Davie, thole it—‘He that tholes overcomes.’ +Forbye, ye suld ken it’s ill fechting wi’ kirkmen.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay,” returned David Stratton between his teeth, +“’ill fechting wi’ them, but waur tholing them. A pack +o’ greedy loons they be, ilka ane o’ them, bishop, priest, +monk, and friar; taking the bread frae the mouths o’ +widows and fatherless bairns to keep their ainsels in +pride and luxury, and a’ manner o’ sin. What wi’ the +best cow, and the uppermost cloth, and the teind o’ meal +and maut, and a’ the lave, were we no shaved close +enoo’, but they maun come speiring after the vera fish o’ +the sea, that we get by the guid help o’ God and the hard +<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>toil o’ our ain hands? Say what ye may, brither, neither +Prior Patrick Hepburn nor Maister Robert Lawson sall +hae the tenth fish o’ me.” And he confirmed his declaration +by an oath.</p> + +<p class='c013'>David Stratton was a man whom either priest or layman, +in those stormy days, might have preferred having +as a friend than as a foe. Every movement of his powerful +well-knit frame, every glance of his keen blue eye, +bespoke energy and decision of character. A strong will +and a brave heart, a good share of common sense, and +an iron constitution, had hitherto enabled him, in whatever +he undertook, to bear down opposition, and to carry +out his purposes with a high hand. Still he had a rough +but real sense of justice that might have disposed him +to yield good humouredly to a fair demand. It only +quickened his opposition to one that he considered obviously +unjust and oppressive.</p> + +<p class='c013'>His case was this. He had shrewdly invested part of +his moderate resources (a younger brother’s portion) in +the purchase of a fishing-boat, which brought him in a +considerable profit. Hearing of this, the Prior of St. +Andrews demanded the tithe of his gains, employing +as his agent in the business, Robert Lawson, vicar of +Ecclescreig.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The Laird of Lauriston, who did not equal his brother +in courage and determination, urged compliance with +the demand; but David, although well content to leave +<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>his soul, with all its weighty interests, to the management +of the kirkmen, had no disposition to permit +their meddlesome interference with his temporal possessions.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Lauriston therefore remonstrated in vain, and he did +so in the hesitating tone of one who foresees his remonstrance +will be in vain. “Gie him the teind, Davie, that +ye may keep the nine siccar.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Haud yer clavers! I’ll keep the nine siccar, and nae +thanks to you or him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Douce, man, douce. Do ye no ken the holy prior +may curse ye wi’ the muckle curse, and aiblins yer net +’ill break, or your boat ’ill gae down in the sea, or Hugh +Peters, yer best fisherman, that ye set sic’ store by, ’ill +fall frae the mast?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>For a moment David stared at his brother in surprise, +then he burst into a loud fit of laughter.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The <i>holy</i> prior! Heerd a man ever the like? Ye’ve +been just taking a willy-waucht o’ yer guid French wine, +or ye wadna talk sic’ fooleries. What wad gar me be +fear’t for a kirkman’s curse, that aebody wha likes may +buy for a plack<a id='r25'></a><a href='#f25' class='c014'><sup>[25]</sup></a> ony day? Forbye, the blessed saints +hae got mair to do than to tak’ tent o’ Patrick Hepburn, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>when it’s his pleasure to curse better men than +himsel.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Weel, a wilfu’ man maun gang his gait. Gin it were +but for my sake, though, ye might speak him fair. Forbye +that, ye’re a daft lad to be making faes for yersel +when it’s <i>friends</i> ye suld be speiring after. An’ ye want +to win favour wi’ the Lindsays it’s ill fechting wi’ the +Hepburns, for they’re fast friends the noo.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>David threw himself into the nearest seat, and remained +silent for some minutes, during which a change +passed gradually over his face, softening its hard and +keen expression. At last he said, “Alison Lindsay’s a +brave lass, and likes a man wi’ a will o’ his ain.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There be ways enoo’ to show thy will, but meddling +wi’ the priests.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I canna thole to hae the gear minished when I’m +gathering it for her,” said David slowly, and in an altered +tone.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hoot awa, man! There’ll be gear enoo’. I’ve nae +but ane son”—</p> + +<p class='c013'>David stretched out his sinewy arm with a forbidding +gesture. “Na, na, David Stratton ’ill never sorn upon +ony, be it his ain brither ten times owre. Forbye,” he +added with a laugh, “Maister Geordie ’ill need a’ the +gear ye can win for him, for I wad ye a plack it’s na +muckle he’ll win for himsel, wi’ his Latin and his logic, +and a’ his ither fooleries, that hae never filled aebody’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>mouth, sae far’s I ken, wi’ onything better than idle +clavers.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Lauriston looked annoyed, but controlled himself. +“Atweel, David,” he said, “we’re no like to agree upon +<i>that</i>. But never heed the gear. Alison’s father’ll gie +her a braw tocher, never fear. She’s my wife’s ain cousin, +and forbye that, she’s a guid lass and a bonnie, sae I +wish thee guid luck wi’ her.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>A very perceptible flush mounted to David’s bronzed +cheek. Not choosing apparently to talk more of the +matter, he turned his attention to the “good French +wine” on the table, of which he drank a cup. Then he +said with a smile, “Weel, Andrew, I’ll no stan’ against +guid counsel. The prior may tak’ his teind, I’se no +hinder him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Lauriston looked keenly at his brother. He spoke +fairly enough, but there was a light in his eye, and a +smile lurking about the corners of his mouth, not pleasing +in the sight of the prudent and peaceable laird. +But at that moment the young Master of Lauriston +entered the room, his usually open countenance wearing +an expression of considerable impatience and vexation. +His father and uncle had in fact delegated to him the +very uncongenial task of entertaining the vicar of Ecclescreig, +whilst they deliberated upon the demand of which +he was the bearer; and the youth was both wearied and +disgusted with his companion. Nor was he perhaps too +<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>willing to sacrifice his own convenience to that of his +uncle David, whom he could not help regarding with +the kind of contempt a scholar usually entertains for the +<i>wilfully</i> ignorant. And David repaid his contempt with +interest, though upon different grounds. “He despysed +all reading, chiefly of those things that are godly;” he +regarded every scholar as a useless, effeminate character, +but most of all a scholar who, like George Stratton, had +“drunk of St. Leonard’s Well,”<a id='r26'></a><a href='#f26' class='c014'><sup>[26]</sup></a> and was even suspected +of carrying about his person, for private perusal, a copy +of Tyndale’s New Testament. At the same time, with +considerable inconsistency, he also despised the clergy +for their shameful ignorance and their abandoned lives.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Uncle,” said George, “yon priest wad needs be gone. +I pray you stay him not, but give him an answer straightway, +yea or nay.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“An answer, lad? That I will, and a better, I wad +ye, than ye’d find in yer books frae this to Yule.” And +he rose to go.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Tak’ tent,” said Lauriston, in a warning voice. “I +jalouse ye’ll be playing some of your tricks upon the +priest.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I?” said Stratton, with a droll look of assumed +simplicity, “what for suld I play tricks upon Maister +<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>Robert? I’d as soon play them upon my lord the prior +himsel (which was probably quite true). Ye ken my +boat lies in the creek, twa mile and a bittock frae this. +I’ll just ride sae far wi’ the vicar, and he sall hear me tell +my men to reserve my lord’s teinds at their peril. Gin +that’ll no content him, ’twill be an ill case.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>With this assurance Lauriston was obliged to be satisfied; +and a few minutes later saw the energetic David +Stratton and Master Robert Lawson on their way together +to the little harbour.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The sound of their master’s well-known whistle summoned +the fishermen, who were engaged in preparing +their evening meal on board the little vessel. They were +a rough, wild-looking group; but they seemed warmly +attached to “Maister Davie,” who had often shared their +toils and dangers.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He addressed himself particularly to the two who +stood foremost amongst them: “Hark ye, my lads. The +Prior o’ St. Andrews hath sent this holy man unto me, +speiring after the teind pairt o’ our fish. And we maun +be guid Christians, and gie the kirk her dues, ye ken. +Sae I command ye, gin ye be my true men, of a’ the fish +ye tak’ frae this day for’ard—<i>throw the teind pairt +back into the sea</i>!” The men listened to the first part +of this address with ill-concealed annoyance and dislike. +But when, in conclusion, their master gave his singular +command, the expression of their countenances changed, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>first into surprise and wonder, then into undisguised +satisfaction. “Ay, ay, maister!” shouted the two foremost +heartily; and their shout was echoed by all the +group, from gray-haired Hugh Peters to the brace of +bare-legged, shock-headed boys, who stood at a respectful +distance staring at the master and his unwonted +companion the priest.</p> + +<p class='c013'>To whom, as soon as the noise had subsided, Master +David turned: “Gang yer ways, sir, and tell my lord the +prior that he may <i>come and tak’ his teind frae the place +whaur I get my stock</i>.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>To judge by their continued cheers and laughter, the +joke was better relished by the fishermen than it was by +the priest. “That’s a dour message, Maister David,” +said he, “and ill to carry to a proud and scornful man +like my lord the prior.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nae ither sall ye get frae me,” answered David +briefly; and with a slight and rather contemptuous +salute, he turned his horse’s head and rode quickly back +to Lauriston.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Far indeed was he then from foreseeing all the +sorrow his rude and thoughtless jest was destined to +occasion. Yet out of that sorrow were to spring forth +richer and purer blessings than as yet he could even +conceive. But for the covetous demand of the prior +of St. Andrews, and the reckless defiance it provoked, +David Stratton would probably have lived and died +<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>without God in the world. His fishing, his farm, his +field-sports, his family, would have engrossed his +thoughts, and (as far as these things can do it) have +filled his heart. But He who is “wonderful in counsel +and excellent in working” was leading the blind by +a way that he knew not, which was yet for him +“the right way, that he might go unto a city of habitation.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_229.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_231.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>II.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>The Excommunication.</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“There is a forest where the din</div> + <div class='line in2'>Of iron branches sounds!</div> + <div class='line'>A mighty river roars between,</div> + <div class='line'>And whosoever looks therein</div> + <div class='line'>Sees the heavens all black with sin,—</div> + <div class='line in2'>Sees not its depths nor bounds.”</div> + <div class='line in28'><span class='sc'>Longfellow</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_231b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_233.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>II.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>The Excommunication.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_233.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +Whilst Patrick Hepburn, Prior of St. Andrews, +was disputing about his “teindis” with David +Stratton, the corrupt hierarchy, of which he +was a most worthy member, was fast filling up the +measure of its iniquity. What that iniquity was—how +deep, how dark, how terrible—may still be read in the +pages of contemporary history. But the heart turns +sickening from the record, feeling it “a vexation only to +understand the report,” a pain and a grief even to <i>know</i> +what these men dared to do “in the face of the sun and +the eye of light.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Some, indeed, there were, who amidst all that unutterable +pollution yet “walked with Christ in white +garments stainless.” For their names and their +memories we thank God; and none the less because such +names have oftenest come down to us surrounded by a +mournful halo of martyr glory. Strange to say, it is +usually those stories that end with stake and gibbet to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>which the student turns with relief and pleasure, and +over which he lingers gladly. Bright to the thoughtful +eye is the dungeon’s midnight gloom; dark with a horror +of great darkness are the abodes of pomp and luxury, +where cardinal, priest, and bishop held ungodly revelry.</p> + +<p class='c013'>For they held revelry, as those who neither feared +God nor regarded man. Like the nobles at Belshazzar’s +feast, they drank wine, and praised their gods of silver +and gods of gold; they profaned to every vile, degrading +use “the vessels of the sanctuary,” those hallowed names +and symbols which Rome has borrowed, or rather stolen, +from the true temple of the Lord. But they saw not the +writing of the man’s hand upon the wall, they knew not +that even then they were weighed in the balances and +found wanting, and that God had numbered their kingdom, +and finished it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Already, at the period of which we write, the light of +the glorious gospel of Christ was beginning to shine +upon Scotland. Five years before<a id='r27'></a><a href='#f27' class='c014'><sup>[27]</sup></a> young Patrick +Hamilton, the protomartyr of the Scottish Reformation, +sealed his testimony at St. Andrews, and “the reek of +his burning infected all that it did blow upon.” Many +copies of Tyndale’s New Testament had found their way +into the country, chiefly through the instrumentality of +the merchants of the sea-port towns; and these were +eagerly read by all classes of the people. Some of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>principal teachers at the university of St. Andrews were +strongly inclined to the reformed doctrines, and numbers +of the young men who were educated there had imbibed +their opinions.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But to return to the true history of David Stratton. +For a short time after his bold message to the Prior of +St. Andrews, all went on prosperously with him. His +land brought forth abundantly, his nets gathered rich +spoils from the sea. What was better still, Alison +Lindsay was disposed to look favourably on his suit; nor +did her relatives, at this time, seem to regard him with +an unfriendly eye. But while he “blessed his soul,” and +promised himself years of peace and plenty, a dark and +threatening cloud had gathered unnoticed, and was about +to burst over his head.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The proud and covetous Prior of St. Andrews answered +his rude taunt with the thunders of a Romish +excommunication. It might have been thought, even +by zealous Romanists, that the punishment exceeded the +offence; and that those thunders might better have been +reserved for more important occasions, and more +desperate and wilful offenders. “For, indeed, the man +had <i>no</i> religion,” as we are gravely told of another +person, by way of a sufficient reason for his full and +triumphant acquittal from the charge of heresy. It +is light that darkness hates, and light alone: Rome’s +quarrel is not with ignorance and irreligion; though +<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>these may sometimes provoke her bitter anger, when +they lay their hands upon some of her cherished interests. +This was just what David Stratton had done: striking +blindly and recklessly, under the influence of momentary +irritation, he had chanced to strike a very tender +part. “One that shoulde have said that no tithes +shoulde be payed” was a dangerous member of society +in the eyes of those who by means of these very “teindis +and rentis,” extracted from the fears or the superstitions +of the laity, were clothed in purple and fine linen, and +fared sumptuously every day.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is not easy for us to understand what David Stratton +felt when he found himself cursed with bell, book, +and candle, and “delivered into the deville’s handes.” +The lion’s roar has lost its terrors for us, who have +only seen him caged and powerless; it was very different +with the men who knew that the roar was but the +prelude to the crouch and spring of the deadly destroyer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But apart from the temporal consequences of excommunication, +which were likely to be dreadful enough, +other troubles, born of superstition, could not fail +to arise in the soul of the excommunicated. Every +man who is not religious in the highest sense of the +word, must be in some way or other superstitious. For +though many men can dispense with a creed, every man +must of necessity have a faith; a belief in something of +which his senses cannot take cognizance, in some power +<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>greater than his own, yet not without its influence upon +his being. David Stratton had thrust this belief away +into the darkest corner of his soul—had smothered it +with the pursuits, the interests, the pleasures of life—had +almost become insensible to its existence. But the +thunder of excommunication awakened it within him, +and every superstitious fear or fancy he had felt or known +since childhood nourished and gave it strength. Strange +things began to haunt and torture him; memories of +warnings from the lips of a dead mother; frightful stories +of hell and purgatory from the friars’ sermons he had +occasionally listened to; legends of the terrible punishments +inflicted on those who despised holy Kirk, how +their bodies could not rest in their graves, nor their souls +find relief from anguish; all these mingled with recollections +of his own sins since last he had confessed, and +indeed during his whole life—a very miscellaneous +catalogue, comprising such items as neglecting to hear +mass, and running some one through with his whinger +in a drunken brawl. But on all these points he was profoundly +silent, covering a heart that ached and trembled +in secret by a dauntless, or rather a defiant bearing. +He paid the prior his Latin curses back with interest in +good plain Saxon; and he boasted everywhere that he +“wadna gie a brass bodle for a’ his cursing.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He would, however, have given half his worldly +possessions with a cheerful heart to be well clear of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>whole business, when he learned in what light it was +regarded by Alison Lindsay and by her relatives. A +cold message from her father, declining a proffered visit, +stung him to the quick, especially as it was hinted that +her own wishes on the subject entirely coincided with +those of her family. About the same time, an intimation +reached him from another quarter, that his open contempt +of the sentence of excommunication was considered +to savour of heresy, and might probably involve him in +temporal pains and penalties.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Upon hearing this, he went to Lauriston to seek his +brother’s counsel and countenance. The consolations +the Laird administered to his wounded feelings were of +a very common, but very unsatisfactory kind. “This +came of rejecting good counsel—he had told him beforehand +exactly what would happen.” Such was the +substance of Lauriston’s exhortations; nor was it to be +wondered at that under the circumstances he should +look coldly on his imprudent brother. Naturally both +shrewd and timid, he was keenly alive to the peril David +incurred in provoking a prosecution for heresy, and no +less sensible that the danger would not be confined to +his own person, since the orthodoxy of other members of +the family was by no means above suspicion. But +reasonable as his displeasure may have been, David was +not prepared to brook its expression. His anger was +easily kindled, and an open quarrel between the brothers, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>the first since their childhood, followed. David at last +strode out from the halls of Lauriston with flushed cheek +and burning brow, protesting that nothing would induce +him to remain, even for one single night, beneath the +roof of a brother who used him so unworthily. He had +come on horseback, and with a mounted servant, but he +departed alone and on foot, leaving orders at the porter’s +lodge for his attendant to follow him next day to his own +dwelling with the horses.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was late; but the month was August, and the long +twilight lingered still. Mechanically David went on, +his mind too busy with its own bitter thoughts, to take +note of anything around him. The kirkmen, the Lindsays, +his brother, all were alike his enemies; and had +either united together for his ruin, or were determined +to abandon him to those who had. Every man’s hand +was against him; but if he must die, he would die hard. +He would give them all trouble enough before he had +done with them, from Patrick Hepburn himself, villain +that he was (and David clenched his hand), to Alison +Lindsay’s scapegrace brother, who had delivered that +bitter message with such a mocking smile. He wondered +what had kept him from giving the lad a taste of his +whinger in return, save indeed that he was but a +“hafflins callant,” and slight and pale-faced like “Maister +Geordie,—wha’ll be owre blythe to ken a plain man +like me can make a muckle fool o’ himsel as weel as a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>body wha has been driven daft wi’ logic, and Latin, and +sic’.” He was just about to retract the acknowledgment +of his folly, when feeling a hand laid on his shoulder, he +turned quickly round, and at the same moment placed +his own on his sword, a very natural impulse in those +rough uncertain times.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He was a good deal surprised to see the person who +had just occupied his thoughts, his nephew George. +“I a’maist took ye for a robber, lad,” he said, adding an +expression that need not be chronicled. “Gang hame +to yer bed, and dinna stop folk at midnight on the king’s +highway.” He spoke however, all things considered, +with tolerable good humour; for he remembered that he +had no personal quarrel with George, who had not even +been present during his stormy altercation with the +Laird.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The Laird of Lauriston’s brother,” answered the +young scholar, “suld not be found on the king’s highway +at midnight within three mile of Lauriston Castle.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That’s the Laird o’ Lauriston’s ain doing.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Not with his will.” And then the youth exerted +himself to the utmost to act the part of peace-maker. +As might be guessed, his mission was not exactly of his +own choosing. His gentle mother, the Lady Isabel, had +been much distressed by the quarrel between the Laird +and his brother. This was not only because she liked +David, and did justice to the genuine qualities that lay +<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>beneath his rough exterior, but because she was warmly +interested in her young cousin Alison, and had set her +heart on the prosperous termination of a suit which, +from the beginning, she had furthered in every way in +her power. No sooner, therefore, had she heard the +heavy tramp of David’s retreating footsteps, than she +hastened to her son, who was reading in his own +chamber, and entreated him to follow his uncle and +prevent, if possible, the open and perhaps deadly rupture +that must ensue if he quitted Lauriston at such an +hour and in such a way. George hesitated, pleading +the dislike and contempt with which his uncle evidently +regarded him. But his mother’s earnestness overcame +his reluctance, and he eventually consented to undertake +the difficult and distasteful task.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Though for some time his explanations and remonstrances +seemed unavailing, yet he was not discouraged, +as he drew a favourable augury from the fact +that his uncle was willing to hear him patiently to the +end, which was much more than he expected at first.</p> + +<p class='c013'>At length he took the last arrow out of his quiver, +and discharged it with due care and deliberation. “His +mother,” he said, “greatly regretted his uncle’s departure, +having a few days agone received a letter from a gentlewoman, +her friend or cousin, concerning which she +desired to hold purpose with Maister David.” Then, +wisely changing the subject, he added, “Gif ye depart +<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>thus, uncle, it will be a tale for all the country side, that +the Laird and his brother have quarrelled. But come +home with me, and bide till the morning breaks, and +servants and horses will haud themselves ready to do yer +pleasure. So shall ye go, gif ye maun go, as Stratton of +Stratton suld frae the halls of Stratton of Lauriston.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Atweel—aiblins—for the honour o’ the family,” said +David, slowly turning; “but I’ll keep my word, and no +see Andrew’s face again.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_242.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_243.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>III.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>The First Prayer.</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Oh, that I knew where I might find Him!”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_243b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_245.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>III.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>The First Prayer.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_245.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +When George Stratton returned with David +to the Castle, he found that his parents +had already retired to rest. This was only +what he expected and wished; he therefore himself +cheerfully accompanied his uncle to the chamber which +had been prepared for him; where he waited upon him +with a respect and attention that evidenced something +more than the mere desire to discharge the duties of +hospitality towards a guest beneath his father’s roof, and +that guest his father’s brother. We usually conceive a +liking for any one for whom we exert ourselves to do a +kindness; and in this way, perhaps, it happened that +George was disposed to regard his uncle’s character +from a more favourable point of view that night than +he had ever done before. Besides, the attitude of fearless +independence which David had assumed was not +entirely without its charms in his eyes, little as he +found to admire in the feelings that had, in the first +<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>instance, inspired his resistance to the prior’s covetous +demand.</p> + +<p class='c013'>During their walk they had scarcely interchanged a +word, but as they stood together before parting for the +night, David remarked, with a laugh: “I doot but yon +Sir William, the Capellan, ’ill come here sae soon as I’m +awa’, and sprinkle the chalmer<a id='r28'></a><a href='#f28' class='c014'><sup>[28]</sup></a> wi’ holy water, for fear +I might chance to leave the tail o’ the prior’s curse behind +me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>George laughed also as he answered, “Sir William +maun just bide yer presence, as he has to bide many a +thing he likes scarce as weel.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye’re daffing, lad. I thocht ye were a’ good Christians.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But we’re not dumb; an’ if a chance word against +the priests is to earn a man the name of heretic, there’ll +be mair in it than you, uncle.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>David turned, and gave George the benefit of one of +the keenest glances of his keen blue eyes. Had the lad +more in him than he had ever given him credit for? +Was he, in spite of his “book lear,” neither coward nor +fool? Resolved at least to test him a little further, he +told him his opinion of the kirkmen in general, and of +Patrick Hepburn in particular, using language much too +plain and forcible to be transferred to these pages.</p> + +<p class='c013'>George listened in silence to his angry diatribe; and, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>when he had finished, allowed a few moments to elapse +before he attempted an answer. Then he said, in tones +unusually quiet and gentle, “When our blessed Lord was +here on earth, he said many things of the wicked priests +and Pharisees of his time, that to my thinking are owre +true yet.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay, did he?” asked David, with a look of interest. +He had the vaguest possible ideas of the time of which +his nephew spoke, and we fear we may add, of the Person +whom he named with such reverence; but he was glad +to hear that any one had told hard truths of “thae +greedy loons, the priests.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Wad ye like to hear what he said?” continued George.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Unco weel,” answered David, eagerly enough.</p> + +<p class='c013'>George drew his New Testament from the sleeve of his +doublet, opened it at the 23rd of St. Matthew, and began +to read. “Then spake Jesus to the multitude, and to +his disciples, saying, The scribes and Pharisees sit in +Moses’ seat: all therefore whatsoever they bid you +observe, that observe and do.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Eh, but that’s nae guid ava’,” interrupted David +angrily.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Bide a wee, uncle, and have patience,” said the +reader, and he went on: “But do not ye after their +works, for they say and do not.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>David was all attention now, nor did he again interrupt +until George came to the words, “Ye devour +<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>widows’ houses, and for a pretence make long prayers, +therefore ye shall receive the greater damnation,” when +he could no longer contain his delight,—“Yon’s the +brawest sermon I hae heard in a’ my life,” he cried; +“it’s a’ true, but the lang prayers. Our priests dinna fash +theirsels owre muckle wi’ <i>them</i>, I’m thinking.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>George was too intent upon another and very different +object to waste the precious moments in discussing this +point; though he certainly thought that the frequent +masses, and many of the other services of the Church, +might be not inaptly described as “long prayers made +for a pretence.” He read on, therefore, without note or +comment, to the close of the chapter.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is that a’?” asked David, quickly. “Does he tell us +naething o’ the proud bishops and priors, and a’ the lave?—but +aiblins they werena sae bad in those times as they +be the noo.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“They did not use the same names to call them by,” +said George; “but ye see, uncle, they were bad enough, +and to spare.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Did they curse honest folk, and drive them frae the +kirk, naebut for standing on their right, and no letting +theirsels be fleeced like sae mony puir feckless bits of +sheep? and what did the Saint—I mean our blessed +Lord (and he crossed himself)—say to sic cantrips?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“They did worse than all that, uncle; they cursed +good and honest men, cast them out of the kirk, ay and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>killed them an they could, gif they dared to confess that +Jesus was the Christ, or to say they believed in him,”—and +a dark shadow passed across young Lauriston’s face. +Perhaps he was thinking of a scene he had witnessed, +not so many months before, at St. Andrews,—the death +by fire of “ane Henry Forrest, a young man born in +Linlithgow,” “for none other cause but because he had +ane New Testament in Englis,” and that he constantly +affirmed “that Maister Patrick Hamilton was a martyr, +and that his articles were true, and not hereticall.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But he only said, “I can give you, from my book, a +true history of one they cast out.” And then he half +read, half repeated, the story of the man blind from his +birth, whose eyes the Saviour opened, and who afterwards +confessed his name so boldly before the Pharisees.</p> + +<p class='c013'>David Stratton did not, by word or sign, evidence +either interest or impatience. He stood still, leaning +against the casement, and looking out upon the moonlit +castle-yard, and the pasture-lands beyond, with rows of +stately trees. Ever afterwards with that scene was +associated in his mind the first hearing of those marvellous +words, “I am the light of the world,” and the vague +awe, and wonder, and sense of mystery they awoke +within him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>At last George read, “Thou wast altogether born in +sins, and dost thou teach us? and they cast him out.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“<i>That’s just like me</i>,” said David emphatically, turning +<span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>towards him again. “Na, na,” he added, in a lower voice, +“they cast <i>him</i> out because he told them the truth anent +our Lord’s wonderfu’ wark,—<i>I’ve</i> nae done like that.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>George went on quietly: “Jesus heard that they had +excommunicate him; and as soon as he had found him, +he said unto him, Dost thou believe on the Son of God? +He answered and said, And who is it, Lord, that I might +believe on him? And Jesus said unto him, Thou hast both +seen him, and he it is that talketh with thee. And he +said, Lord, I believe. And worshipped him.”<a id='r29'></a><a href='#f29' class='c014'><sup>[29]</sup></a> Then, +without a word of comment, he closed the book and +restored it to its hiding-place.</p> + +<p class='c013'>David’s eyes followed it wistfully. “It’s a braw thing +ye hae got book lear, Geordie,” he said.</p> + +<p class='c013'>George was naturally not displeased at this unwonted +admission on his uncle’s part. “And there’s no book +like this book,” he answered; “God’s ain hand has +written every line and letter in it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But can ye mak’ the meaning out, callant? For I +misdoot that’s unco hard.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Whiles,” said the youth humbly; “and I pray God +day by day to teach me more and better. But the hour +is late, and your foot is aye early in the stirrup, uncle, so +that I should not tarry.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Good-nights were then exchanged, and without further +conversation George left the room.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>David Stratton stood long at the lancet window—how +long he never knew. Strange new thoughts filled +his mind, and for the first time for weeks even the Prior +of St. Andrews and the Vicar of Ecclescreig were forgotten. +For he did not, as might be imagined, amuse +and gratify himself by applying the fiery denunciations +he had just heard to these his personal enemies. They +had indeed impressed and delighted him at the time; +but what he afterwards heard almost swept them from +his memory. Unaccustomed to abstract thought, though +full of practical shrewdness, a mere exposition of doctrine +would perhaps hardly have left a clearer impression +on him, when delivered in his native tongue, +than if it had been couched in Latin; but his mind was +quick to grasp and strong to retain the circumstances +of a story. Nor did he only retain them passively: he +was accustomed to reflect, after a fashion, upon his own +doings and those of other men; and to his imagination, +the blind man of the gospel was as real, and not more +distant, than if he had lived or was living then in Edinburgh +or St. Andrews. For what did he know or care +about those fifteen long weary centuries that lay between? +The restoration of sight to the blind—that was +very wonderful, to be sure. He knew a blind man, who +used to sit at the door of St. Mary’s Abbey Kirk in +Dundee, and to whom he had many a time given an +alms as he passed. He wondered what would old +<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>Simon think if some one were to come one day and open +<i>his</i> eyes. And who was that <i>some one</i> whose word, whose +touch, had such power? It was Jesus, the Son of God. +How good it was of him to do it—and to do it for a poor +unknown man, a blind beggar, no better than old Simon +Hackett! And, moreover, he did not send one of the +holy apostles to him, though that would have been +marvellously kind and condescending—he did much +more. He himself spoke to him, and touched him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Here it will be observed that the goodness of the act +impressed David far more than its greatness. There was +a reason for this. It is the tendency of all spurious imitations +to lower the value of the thing imitated in the +popular mind. Thus, Rome’s lying legends had, as it +were, cheapened miracles in the eyes of men. They were +accustomed to hear, and to believe, stories of wonderful +works, which, as mere exhibitions of superhuman <i>power</i>, +apart from wisdom or goodness, are to the calm and +dignified narratives of the gospel as the blaze of an +illuminated city to the pale and distant, but enduring, +glories of the starry heavens. A hundred blind men, +or a thousand, restored to sight, would not have astonished +David beyond measure, or too sorely taxed his +faith. But the personal human kindness with which +that awful Being, the Son of God (of whom, when he +thought at all, he thought with vague terror as the Judge +of mankind), stooped to deal with this one poor blind +<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>man, surprised and touched him deeply. Little wonder, he +thought, that the man spoke up so bravely before the Pharisees +(David called them the <i>Bishops</i>) to bear witness to his +goodness! And very like them to cast him out for it!</p> + +<p class='c013'>But how did the poor man feel when he found himself +an outcast, cursed by the kirkmen, abandoned by +all his friends, and in danger of worse harm to follow, +belike both to soul and body? Probably he was sore +perplexed and terrified. Ay, but then “Jesus found +him.” Found him, was it, or met him—which did +Geordie say? <i>Found him</i>; he was sure of it. “It wasna +that he forgathered wi’ him by chance in the highway, +but he <i>speered after</i> him, for he heard that they had excommunicated +him.” And he spoke to him so gently and +kindly, and gave him, no doubt, a short and clean shrift +from all his sins, better than all the bishops in that +country could do. Would, oh would that he were alive +now! However distant he might be, David Stratton +would go to him, were it twice as far as the shrine of St. +James of Compostella—twice as far even as that Hierusalem +whither Friar Scott had travelled lately—he cared +not. Had he to go the whole “gait” on foot, he cared +not, if so be that at the end he might throw himself at +the feet of that great and good One, and say to him, +“Lord, I too am cast out of the Kirk by these wicked, +covetous bishops, wilt thou not let me confess my sins +to thee, and give me thy pardon?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>But the Lord Jesus was not to be found at Compostella, +nor yet in Hierusalem—he knew that. It would +be a good thing, doubtless, for a man to pray in these +holy places, or to bring back relics of wonderful virtue, +as Friar Scott had done—fragments of stone from the +pillar to which Christ was bound, and such like; but to +meet our Lord himself personally, and to speak with him, +that was another matter clearly. Friar Scott, with all his +bragging, had never bragged of <i>that</i>; nor would he have +believed him if he had. Yet nothing less would do for +him, in his present sore distress and difficulty—for such he +now confessed it to be. And then he remembered that +the Lord was not on earth at all, in any place—he was in +heaven, at God’s right hand. Could he not pray to him +there?</p> + +<p class='c013'>This was the first glimmering perception of the real +purpose and meaning of prayer that dawned upon the +mind of David Stratton. Hitherto he had always +thought of it as a meritorious action, by means of which +good things might be obtained and evil ones averted, +through the assistance and mediation of the Virgin and +the saints, to whom by far the greater part of the prayers +he knew were addressed. Now he began to think it +might possibly be a way of communication between this +world and the other, by which he might actually succeed +in conveying a request about which he was very much in +earnest to the ear of the great Son of God himself.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>His prayer, if prayer it may be called, was couched +in words like these: “Lord, they hae cast me out. I +wad find thee an’ I could; but sin’ I canna do that, I +ask thee to find me. And gie me, thysel, shrift and +pardon for a’ my sins; for ye ken I canna get it frae the +kirkmen, and I’m a muckle sinner in thy sight the day—God +help me. Amen.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Such were some of the thoughts that filled the mind +of David Stratton during the silent hours of that night, +to him for ever memorable. What he felt cannot be +traced so easily as what he thought. There is a sanctuary +in almost every soul into which no other human +soul can penetrate. None but He who has searched and +knoweth the hearts he made, could understand the strange +new-born impulse which brought David Stratton, in his +trouble and danger, to the feet of the merciful Saviour, +of whose grace he had heard that night for the first time. +“He is great, he can help me—he is good, perhaps +he will.” Thus much could be expressed in words; but +not so the strong sense of his goodness, and the first +dawnings of love and trust in the heart that was +ignorantly and half unconsciously, yet really, turning +towards Him.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_255.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_257.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>IV.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>Dawnings of Light.</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“I bring my guilt to Jesus,</div> + <div class='line in2'>To wash my crimson stains,</div> + <div class='line'>White in his blood most precious,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Till not a spot remains.”</div> + <div class='line in28'><span class='sc'>Rev. H. Bonar.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_257b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_259.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>IV.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>Dawnings of Light.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_259.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +Other eyes were wakeful that night, and +other minds were busy, upon Master David +Stratton’s account. The Lady of Lauriston, +as we are already aware, had set her heart upon bringing +about a reconciliation between him and her husband. +She did not anticipate much difficulty with the Laird, +over whom she possessed almost unbounded influence. +And even without her interference, he would probably +have speedily regretted his quarrel with a brother to +whom he was really attached; and the rather because of +the dangers and difficulties of David’s present position. +His wife’s persuasions, therefore, combined with his own +relentings, soon brought him to a state of mind to hear +with much thankfulness of the mission George had +undertaken in the capacity of peace-maker.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But it’s na use,” he answered, with a desponding +shake of the head. “I ken Davie unco weel; he’s that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>stubborn, a man might cut him in twa, and no gar him +turn frae his ain gait.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Leave him to me,” said the lady in reply. “I ken +for sure he came back with George last night, for I +heard his foot as he gaed to his chalmer; and ye’ve but +to keep still, Andrew, and to speak him fair, when I bring +him into the hall to breakfast, as, the saints helping +me, I’ll try to do. Speak him fair anent his kine or +his boat, or his braw new house that he’s plenishing in +Dundee—onything ye list but the kirkmen and the +cursing.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And yer bonnie cousin Alison, that he’s like to tyne<a id='r30'></a><a href='#f30' class='c014'><sup>[30]</sup></a> +for his foolery?” asked the Laird, with a smile.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay, Laird, that were best left to me too. Weel as +ye think ye ken Maister David,” she added after a +pause, “<i>I</i> ken him better. He’s a dour chield, and +unco stubborn, but he’s manful; and it’s a lang gait he +wadna gang for the man or the woman he truly loves. +And he loves Alison Lindsay.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And she—what of her, Isabel?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Tut, Laird; ye mauna be speering owre mony questions. +I’m not my cousin’s father confessor.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye’ll be plainer with David, I hope.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No need for that. He that loves can understand +what is but half spoken.” And Lady Isabel could not +be induced to explain herself farther.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>The Laird’s question, however, was a very natural +one; nor was the fact that Alison Lindsay had been +promised by her father to David Stratton in reality any +answer to it, for every one knows that the sacrifice of a +girl’s inclinations to the interest or convenience of her +kinsfolk was a matter of daily occurrence in those rough +times. David was ten years older than his intended +bride; he was neither very handsome nor very rich, and +he was greatly her inferior in refinement and cultivation—for +both Isabel and her young cousin had received +their education in a convent, where, besides the peculiarly +feminine art of skilful embroidery in its various +branches, they were carefully initiated into the mysteries +of reading and writing; and were, in fact, for their time, +well educated if not accomplished women. Yet, in spite +of all this, Alison Lindsay <i>did</i> return David Stratton’s +affection. If a reason should be asked, it may perhaps +be rendered (strange as this may appear) in the very +words by which the Lady Isabel described her brother-in-law’s +character: “He’s a dour chield, and unco +stubborn; but he’s <i>manful</i>.” As men admire nothing +so much in women as perfect womanliness, so women, +even the gentlest, usually admire manliness in men more +than any other characteristic. In Alison’s eyes, “Maister +David Stratton of Stratton” was a hero; nor need we +pause to inquire whether or not he was transfigured by +her imagination into something essentially different from +<span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>what he really was; it is enough to have stated the fact, +that the life of this rude, obstinate, daring gentleman of +Angus was far more precious in the eyes of some one +else than it was in his own.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Without a great deal of difficulty, George succeeded +the next morning in detaining his uncle until the Lady +Isabel appeared. Purposely abstaining from any allusion +to what had passed the night before, he sought to +wile away the time by conversation upon indifferent +subjects. Amongst other things, he chanced to ask +what had become of a favourite bay mare, which he had +been wont to ride when he came to Lauriston. David +told him, with some regret, that he had sold her before +Pasche, being then anxious for a sum of money to complete +the purchase of his new house in Dundee.</p> + +<p class='c013'>George asked who had bought her; perhaps thinking +the mare a safer subject of conversation than the house, +which he well knew had been destined by his uncle for +the reception of his bride.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Wae’s me!” answered David; “wha suld buy her +but John Erskine o’ Dune. Mair’s the pity! Owre guid +for him to hae sic a bonny beast to carry him, wi’ a’ his +outlandish nonsense.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But George’s face brightened wonderfully at the mention +of John Erskine’s name.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then you’re acquaint with the Laird of Dune, +uncle?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>“As weel as I’m like to be. Leeze me on a man wi’ +a guid Scot’s tongue in his head, forbye a guid Scot’s +heart in his bosom, and tak a’ yer newfangled outland +folk.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There’s no truer Scottish heart in all the realm than +that of John Erskine of Dune!” cried George, unable +any longer to keep silence. “Uncle, you know him not. +But I pledge ye my word there are few like him. A +learned, godly gentleman”—But here he stopped suddenly, +recollecting that the praise he was so liberally +bestowing on his friend would hardly sound well in his +uncle’s ears.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh ay, unco learned, nae doubt. I hae heard he’s +gaun to set up a schule at Montrose, to lear the puir +bairns Greek, forsooth! Guid wark that for a laird! +He’d better hae them taught to put the stane and to +shoot at the popinjay, sae he’d hae a chance to make +<i>men</i> o’ them, at least.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>George could not help laughing at this representation +of the case; but he admitted that the Laird of Dune was +endeavouring to found an academy at Montrose for the +study of Greek, being anxious that the intelligent youth +of his native land should learn to read the word of God +in the language in which it is written. “For he loves the +word of God with his haill heart,” said George. “And +I ken no one who understands it so weel. He hath expounded +mony things unto me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>Here the entrance of the Lady Isabel put a stop to +the conversation. It will be easily seen that a woman +like the Lady of Lauriston was sure to come off victorious +from any verbal encounter with a man like David +Stratton. But beside all other advantages, she had a +powerful though silent ally in the piece of folded paper +she held in her hand. Alison Lindsay’s letter was +indeed no more than a quaint and rather formal appeal +to her “loving cousin,” asking her to entreat the Laird +to take into his service a certain old retainer of the +Lindsays, “muckle Sawney Gordon,” who had been so +unfortunate as to displease one of her hot-headed young +brothers. But then there was a brief postscript, which +ran thus:—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Shoulde Maister Stratton come unto Lauriston, it +were as weall to tell him that all his friendis, and they +that were his friendis, merveille at his temeritie, or rather +proude rashnesse. For his soule’s wealle, no to say for +that of his temporall Estaite, entreate him to reconseille +himselfe to Holie Kirke, quhill as yett thare is tyme.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Perhaps the words might have seemed cold and harsh, +had not Isabel shown David the paper upon which they +were written. It was blotted with tears. He took it in +his hand, and held it there for one moment, his strong +fingers closing over it with a nervous grasp, and trembling +as they closed. Then he silently gave it back, rose from +his seat, and strode across the room.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>When he reached the door, he paused, as if in doubt. +Lady Isabel took advantage of his momentary irresolution; +she had something still to say which he could +not choose but hear. She told him quietly she had long +been desirous to receive a visit from her cousin Alison, +as she knew the motherless girl was often lonely in her +father’s house; and that she thought she could overrule +any objection her relatives might make to her coming to +Lauriston. Should this plan succeed, Maister David +would have many opportunities of pleading his own +cause, and it would be very much his own fault if he did +not turn them to good account. She did not <i>say</i>, but +she hinted, that in reality one thing, and only one, was +necessary in order to the accomplishment of all his +desires—and that was his reconciliation with the Church.</p> + +<p class='c013'>In the meantime, he could not but feel—and he did +feel—that the Lady of Lauriston was his warm and true +friend. As might have been anticipated under the circumstances, +his quarrel with the Laird terminated +speedily. No formal reconciliation took place, nor did +many words pass between them; but both were willing +to bury their last night’s altercation in oblivion; and +Isabel obtained her wish, and saw David seated by her +side at the table in the great hall, to partake of their +substantial morning meal.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The brothers spent the day in hunting, accompanied +by a party of the Laird’s retainers, and by George, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>whose studies did not indispose him for manly sports and +exercises.</p> + +<p class='c013'>On the following morning, however, David asked his +nephew if he had not some good falcons, and proposed +that they two should go out hawking together. George, +who was not particularly fond of the pastime of falconry, +consented, at first rather unwillingly, then joyfully and +eagerly, as he began with trembling hope to guess the +wish that prompted his uncle’s request. They set out, +with falcons on their wrists, but declining the attendance +of the Laird’s falconer or of his assistant. And when they +reached a quiet place in the fields, David, without a +word, hooded his falcon and sat down, motioning George +to do the same.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then he said, in a low but eager voice, “Hae ye +brought yer book, callant?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>George produced it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Read me mair o’ yon blind man the guid Lord Jesus +speered after.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There’s no more told of him,” said George. “The +last thing is this: ‘He said, Lord, I believe. And he +worshipped him.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And does the Book no tell us gin the guid Lord gied +him shrift or pardon? For I mind weel the kirkmen cast +him out, and wad hae naething to do wi’ him. Not ane +priest or friar amang them a’ wad hear his confession, I +wad ye.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>“What I hae read ye tells us all. He believed on the +Lord Jesus Christ; and he who thus believes <i>is</i> pardoned, +whether the priests say it or no.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How do ye ken that?” asked David, with a wondering +look.</p> + +<p class='c013'>By way of reply George read the 3rd of John, adding +from time to time such brief explanations as he thought +necessary, and in particular telling, very simply and +clearly, the story of the brazen serpent.</p> + +<p class='c013'>So still and silent was the listener, that George almost +feared he had fallen asleep. He was undeceived, however, +when, drawing a deep breath and fixing his eyes +upon him with a look of intense interest, David asked, +“But what can a man do wha has been a muckle sinner +a’ his life?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have told you, uncle. ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus +Christ.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That’s unco weel for douce honest folk. But I hae +stuck Black Will o’ the Hirst wi’ my whinger.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Gif ye had done waur than that, uncle, still the Lord +Jesus wad forgive ye, and wad be blythe to do it. See, +I will tell ye—” and he found the 23rd of Luke, intending +only to read the story of the dying thief; but he read +instead the whole of the grand and touching narrative in +which it is set, like a gem in a diadem of gold. “And +thus,” said George Stratton, “He suffered for our sins, +‘the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God.’ +<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>For ‘He himself bare our sins in his own body on the +tree.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Bare our sins?—I dinna just tak’ ye up, Geordie.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Though you stuck Black Will with yer whinger, the +Lord Jesus’ll <i>pay the wyte</i>.<a id='r31'></a><a href='#f31' class='c014'><sup>[31]</sup></a> On the Cross, with his +ain bluid, he paid the wyte for all our sins. And ye’ve +nought to do, but just to plead what he has done with +the Lord Almighty, and to take the guid comfort of it +to yer ain heart.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, Geordie—Geordie, lad—it’s owre guid—it canna +be—” David’s voice was trembling with emotion.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But it’s <i>true</i>, uncle; I could find ye mony other places +in God’s book that tell the same.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>David was silent for a moment or two, then he said, +very seriously, “George, my lad, I’m right siccer ye +wadna deceive me, for ye ken I lippen<a id='r32'></a><a href='#f32' class='c014'><sup>[32]</sup></a> to ye. But I’m +no that siccer ye mightna be misled yersel, for ye’re but +a haflins callant, wi’ a’ yer book lear. And I’d gie a’ the +warld just to find the truth. But wae’s me! wha’s to +tell it? The priests are a pack o’ misleared carles +themselves; they ken neither new law nor auld, like the +puir doited Bishop o’ Dunkeld.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The Lord himself will teach you, an’ ye ask him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Wha has taught <i>you</i>?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I think He has,” said George reverently, and in a +low voice. “But as for men’s teaching,” he added, “it +<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>was some of the lectures of Maister Gawin Logie gared +me first think of these things, when I was a determinant +at St. Leonard’s College. Afterwards I forgathered with +the Laird of Dune, and he gave me this Testament, and +told me mony things whilk have helped me to understand +it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Soon afterwards they returned to the castle.</p> + +<p class='c013'>David was unusually silent and thoughtful during the +rest of the day; and, to the surprise and regret of his +brother, and still more of his nephew, he announced his +intention of leaving them the next morning. Having +remonstrated in vain against this decision, they asked +him where he intended to go.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He hesitated a little, then said: “Weel, to be plain, +it’s a’ anent my bonny bay mare—fool that I was to part +wi’ her. I’m sair wirried wi’ yon puir beastie, that’s nae +mair fit for a gentleman than ony aver<a id='r33'></a><a href='#f33' class='c014'><sup>[33]</sup></a> ye’d tak’ frae +the pleugh. Sae I’ll just gang to Erskine o’ Dune, +aiblins he’ll gie me my ain back again.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>The Laird shook his head. “Ye’re no that wise, +brother,” he said, “to twine wi’ yer siller the noo.” +And he kindly offered him the use of an excellent horse +of his own, saying that Geordie would show him the +animal, and could tell his merits from experience.</p> + +<p class='c013'>George, however, evidenced a decided want of alacrity +in the business; and being too keenly interested in the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>proposed visit to the Laird of Dune to behave with his +usual tact and readiness, he actually drew upon himself +a sharp reproof from his father for his unwillingness to +accommodate his uncle. “It sets ye weel,” he said, +“wi’ twa guid horses o’ yer ain, to grudge brown Rob +to yer uncle. In my day, young folk didna set sic’ +store by themsels, and had mair thought for their forbears.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Leave him his lane, Andrew,” said David, warmly. +“He’s a guid lad, is Geordie—nae better between this +and the Solway.” A speech that surprised the Laird a +little, but pleased him considerably.</p> + +<p class='c013'>So the next morning they parted; David promising +soon to revisit his brother, and in the meantime to +behave with as much circumspection as he could, and +to avoid any course of action calculated to increase the +hostility he had provoked. But he would promise no +more than this; nor did he express the slightest inclination +to seek a reconciliation with the Church.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_270.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_271.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>V.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>The Great Change.</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“He came to me in love—and my heart broke,</div> + <div class='line'>And from its inmost depths there rose a cry,</div> + <div class='line'>‘My Father, oh, my Father, smile on me!’</div> + <div class='line'>And the great Father smiled.”</div> + <div class='line in32'><cite>Night and the Soul.</cite></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_271b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_273.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>V.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>The Great Change.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_273.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +Some time elapsed before David Stratton fulfilled +his promise of revisiting his relatives +at Lauriston; nor did they hear much about +him during his absence. One winter evening, however, +they were all assembled at supper in the great hall; the +Laird and his Lady, with her young Cousin Alison—then +a guest at the castle, the Master of Lauriston, and the +Capellan, Sir William Ker, occupying the upper end of +the board; while “below the salt” the numerous retainers +of the Laird took their places according to their +respective ranks. The sound of horse-hoofs, and then +the blast of a horn, gave intimation of the approach of +a visitor; and in a very short time David Stratton, +followed by two or three attendants, strode into the hall.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He was warmly welcomed by the Laird and Lady; +and there were others present who, although less demonstrative, +were probably no less pleased at his arrival. A +seat was soon placed for him at the Lady’s right hand, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>and the butler despatched for a stoup of the best wine +in the laird’s cellar, to improve the cheer and to celebrate +his arrival.</p> + +<p class='c013'>All went merrily forward for some time, and every +one present seemed in high good humour. There was +no lack of conversation; although David was not communicative +on the subject of his own proceedings since +they parted. He had always enough to say upon the +usual country sports and occupations; and, much to the +surprise of his hearers, he added upon this occasion +several amusing stories of the manners and customs of +foreign nations, and particularly those of the French, in +whom the Scotchmen of that day took such a lively +interest. He said they had been lately told him by a +friend, and he retailed them with great spirit, so as to +occasion a good deal of harmless merriment. But one +thing George particularly noticed, no oath or profane +expression of any kind passed his uncle’s lips. Did the +presence of Alison Lindsay refine and soften him, or +was there any other influence at work?</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Seems to me there’s something no just canny about +ye, Davie,” remarked the Laird at last. “Ye couldna +talk better, gin ye were as weel travelled a gentleman as +holy Friar Scott himsel.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Dinna tell <i>me</i> o’ Friar Scott,” said David, with a +strong expression of disgust. “Hae ye heard of his +cantrips in Edinburgh?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>“Oh, ay; I hae heard that he fasted frae meat and +drink twa and thirty days—gin it wasna for ane drink o’ +cauld water.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Lees and clashes!” returned David, very unceremoniously.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Sir William Ker here thought it his duty to interpose; +and ventured to reprove Maister David for his scepticism, +telling him that Friar Scott’s miraculous fast was, +as he himself stated in a sermon preached at the Market +Cross, “be helpe of the Virgin Mary,” and ought not +therefore to be spoken of lightly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>David answered, with a seriousness that took all present +by surprise, that he did not believe the blessed +Virgin possessed the power to do what Friar Scott attributed +to her; but that if she did, he thought better +of her than to suppose she would exercise it for the purpose +of enabling a man of notoriously evil character to +escape the payment of his just debts.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Upon this Sir William, who had for a long time +cordially disliked David, lost his temper, and availing +himself of the licence usually allowed to those of his +profession, even dared to tell the Laird’s brother to his +face that he was no better than a heretic and a reprobate.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The Laird fully expected to see David’s whinger +spring from his belt, and flash across the table. He +looked helplessly towards Isabel, as indeed he was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>accustomed to do in most of his difficulties, in the +expectation that her ready wit would find a way out of +them.</p> + +<p class='c013'>In this case, however, her interposition was not +necessary. David’s cheek burned, but he answered +quietly, “It’s no sae wonnerful <i>you</i> should say that, sir +priest.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Perhaps there is no greater test of a gentle nature, or +its opposite, than the manner of meeting unexpected +forbearance in an antagonist. A gentleman is softened, +and repays courtesy with courtesy; a man of vulgar +nature regards moderation as a sign of weakness, and +presumes accordingly. Sir William thought the usually +rude and overbearing Maister David must have some +good reason for being afraid of him; he therefore boldly +followed up his fancied advantage by requiring him to +retract what he called his blasphemy against the blessed +Virgin, saying there were present unlearned persons who +were scandalized, and might be injured by what he had +said.</p> + +<p class='c013'>This second impertinence was too much to bear. +David relaxed his strong guard over himself, and answered +hastily: “That which I say I never unsay, least +of a’ at the bidding of a knave priest.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Thou hast thine answer, Sir William,” cried the +Laird, with undisguised satisfaction; “so eat thy supper, +man, and haud thy tongue.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>But David looked very ill at ease. “Yon was na +answer ava’,” he said at length, and with an evident +effort. “Sir William, I pray your pardon.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>The priest would have felt much less astonishment +had he struck him in the face. He stared at him in +silence, unable to think of a suitable reply, while the +Laird muttered, “Hech, sirs!—what’s got into ye, +Davie?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But Sir William had not tact or common sense +enough to make some courteous answer, and then +quietly drop the subject. It should perhaps be mentioned +in his defence, that he entertained well-founded +suspicions of the orthodoxy of his patron’s son; and +while a due regard for his temporal interests had +hitherto prevented his openly attacking the Master of +Lauriston, he compounded with his conscience by making +as many general demonstrations against heresy as +he could in his presence. Besides, Maister David +being already excommunicated and under the ban of +the Church, it was both meritorious and comparatively +safe to attack him. He therefore attempted to “improve +the occasion.” <i>His</i> pardon for any personal +insult, he said, was granted before it was asked, as he +cherished no resentment except against the enemies of +Holy Kirk; but he trusted Maister David would ask +the forgiveness of the blessed Virgin for what he had +presumed to say of her, which he again averred (crossing +<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>himself while he spoke) to have been downright blasphemy, +and near akin to “the Englishmen’s opinions.” +“Thae pestilent heretics,” he continued, “hae even +dared to say there’s na sic’ thing ava’ as purgatory.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That hae <i>I</i> never said, nor shall I, wi’ the guid help +o’ God,” answered David, with a quick glance of his +blue eye, but a quiet thoughtful face.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’m blythe to hear it,” said the priest; and he cast +an unmistakable look of triumph upon George, who, +like every one else at the table, was watching his uncle +with wonder and interest.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But David presently resumed: “I believe in ane +purgatory, by the whilk folk are cleansit frae a’ their +sins—<i>the precious bluid of our Saviour Christ</i>. Forbye,” +he added in a lighter tone, “ye may ca’ the troubles o’ +this present evil warld a kind o’ purgatory, an’ ye list. +But these twa, I ken nae ither.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>George, who for months had thought the same, and +yet never dared to utter his thoughts with such boldness, +now deeply felt the truth of our Lord’s words, +“The first shall be last, and the last shall be first.” +But he could not do less than come promptly to his +uncle’s support, and follow the example of his fearless +confession.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You have spoken truly,” he said, “for God himself +doth testify in his holy Word that the bluid of Jesus +Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from <i>all</i> sin.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>If Lady Isabel had been slow to interpose between +David and the priest, she was prompt enough in stopping +the discussion when she saw her son so disposed +to compromise himself. She begged there might be no +more talk of such “gruesome things” as heresy and +purgatory and the like; and the Laird followed up her +efforts by pressing David to take more wine, assuring +him it was the part of a wise man to eat and drink, and +to do his duty by his family and his estate, leaving all +these puzzling questions to be settled for him by the +priests and the doctors. “Forbye,” he added with a +laugh, “an’ the said priests catch us meddling wi’ what +doesna concern us, it’s like enough they’ll gie us, for our +sins, a taste o’ the kind o’ purgatory <i>you</i> talk of, Davie—to +wit, a hantle grief and dolour in this life.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Aiblins,” answered David; “but <i>he that saves his +life shall lose it</i>.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>As soon as George could find an opportunity of +speaking to his uncle alone, he warned him against Sir +William Ker, saying that their opinions were by no +means safe with him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I ken that, lad,” answered David; “but I maun +speak the truth.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Uncle,” said the young man humbly and sorrowfully, +“your courage shames my weakness.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I havena sae muckle to twine as you,” replied +David; “forbye, I hae had muckle mair forgien me. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>Oh, Geordie lad, I dinna mind that the guid Lord hae +ever done sic’ wonnerfu’ things for ony puir sinner! +Think on’t yersel. I had nae thocht o’ him; I cared for +naething but thae puir bits o’ gear, and—and the hopes +and pleasures o’ this life. But then, first, he gied me a +kind o’ start anent my ain foolishness, fechting wi’ the +prior for the teinds. He let them cast me out o’ the +Kirk (that’s nae God’s Kirk ava’, but the synagogue o’ +Satan); and when my heart was sair vexed, and I didna +ken whilk gait to gang, and a’ was black as midnight—na +shrift nor pardon for me, and I just beginning to +think I was the maist awfu’ sinner in a’ Scotland—<i>then</i>, +lad, He speered after me. He sought me his ainsel, he +showed me how a’ my sins were clean forgiven, naebut +because he deed on the Cross to tak’ them awa’. And +noo I hae naething mair to do but to love him, and to +witness for him, and to tell ither folk ilka day how guid +he is.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>George’s eyes were dim with tears of joy and thankfulness. +“Blessed art thou,” he could not help saying, +“for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but +our Father in heaven.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That’s owre true,” answered David. “Yersel, or +the Laird o’ Dune, or ony man, might hae tald me thae +things twa hundert times, and I wadna hae minded ane +word. But the guid Lord has gien me—I canna find +the name for’t, gin it’s no a new eye to see, a new ear +<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>to hear, and a new heart to feel. It’s like as I hae been +a dead man a’ my days, and I’ve naebut wakened up +and begun to live the noo. Eh, but, Geordie, its wonnerfu’!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Wonderful it certainly was, as all who came in contact +with David Stratton could not fail to acknowledge. +We who are accustomed to breathe an atmosphere pervaded +by Christian sentiment and opinion, may find it +hard to realize the greatness of the change—even the +outward change—which was wrought in him. The +entrance of God’s word had indeed given light, and +given understanding to the simple. But love as well as +light was shed abroad in his heart, and that richly. He +who had once been overbearing, rude, violent, ready to +offer offence and quick to take it, was now “ane +vehement exhortar of all men to concord, to quietness, +and to the contempt of the warld.”<a id='r34'></a><a href='#f34' class='c014'><sup>[34]</sup></a> Nor did he fail to +practise that to which, with the “vehemence” that belonged +to his character, he thus exhorted others. He +was noways inclined to hide his light under a bushel; it +was too real, too marvellous for that. Like the little +child who, seeing the first star appear in the shaded +evening sky, cried out in wonder and delight, “God has +just made a new star in heaven;” so, when the light +which had been shining from the beginning of the world +first reached his soul, David felt as if for him God had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>“made a new thing in the earth;” and he could not but +tell the marvel to all those around him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He had therefore scarcely been three days at Lauriston +ere more of Scripture truth was heard from his lips than +there had been in two years from those of the cautious +and thoughtful George. He avowed his convictions +openly, for he was a stranger to fear. He spoke to his +brother, to the Lady Isabel, to many of the retainers; +and above all, he was eager to communicate to Alison +Lindsay the knowledge he esteemed so precious. For +with him faith was <i>knowledge</i>. That which he had seen +and heard he declared to others. He was totally untroubled +by doubts, either of any of the doctrines of +Scripture or of his own interest and acceptance in Christ. +His natural character contributed to this: in his mind +there were no half lights and shadows; all lay in clear +sunshine or in utter darkness, all was positive, welldefined, +certain.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Though David’s knowledge of the Word of God often +surprised his nephew, he was still dependent upon others +for all he acquired, being himself unable to read. It +was his special delight, during his stay at Lauriston, to +induce George to accompany him to some quiet place +in the fields, and to make him read for him chapter +after chapter from the New Testament. George loved +this occupation as much as his uncle did; and found +the readings, and the conversation that always followed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>them, very profitable to his own soul. Their positions +were strangely reversed. He who had once been the +pupil was now himself so deeply taught of the Spirit +that he became in his turn the teacher; and many were +the passages in the Word of God upon which he was +able to throw the light of experience.</p> + +<p class='c013'>George and David often talked together of their friend +and instructor, the Laird of Dune. From this remarkable +man, whom Knox tells us “God had in those days +marvellously illuminated,” David received nearly all the +human teaching he ever had. He consequently so loved +and revered John Erskine, that he even came to regard +his favourite project of the Greek Academy at Montrose +not only with approval, but with enthusiasm. There +was indeed something touching in the desire this unlearned +man evinced to secure to others the best fruits +of learning. “Wha cares a bodle,” said he to George, +“whether the bairns get the lear in Greek or in Latin, +or in our ain guid Scot’s tongue, sae’s they <i>do</i> learn +that the blessed Lord loved them, and deed for a’ their +sins?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then you think, uncle, that the Greek school will +prosper?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nae doot o’ that. There’s ane young man has +begun to teach the bairns the New Testament—<i>vera</i> +young, but by-ordinar learned, and o’ guid family, brither +or brither’s son to the Laird of Pitarrow—ane <i>George +<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>Wishart</i>. He’ll do something, gin the bishops dinna +burn or banish him, as they’re like enough to do to ony +man wha reads the Word o’ God, either in Greek or +English.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>George often wondered at the apparent coolness with +which David alluded to such terrible probabilities, and +tried to exhort him to caution and prudence. But he +was not so indifferent as his nephew supposed to the +dangers that menaced every one who dared to profess +“the new Faith;” and if he received his well-meant +warnings in silence, it was only because he could not +argue, while he felt at the same time that but one course +of conduct was possible to him, and that he must pursue +it, lead where it might.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Perhaps this day his heart was softened by the recollection +of a promise which only the night before he had +obtained from Alison Lindsay; for a look of pain, almost +of perplexity, stole over his face, and it was some time +before he spoke again.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But at last he said, quietly, “Whaur’s the Book, +Geordie? We’ll hae tint a’ our reading time.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What shall I read ye?” asked George; for David +nearly always selected the portions they read together.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He said at once, “The tenth o’ Matthew;” and +George read the precious words of comfort addressed by +the Saviour to those whom he sent forth as sheep in +the midst of wolves. His double command, “<i>fear not</i>,” +<span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>and “<i>fear</i>”—fear not them which kill the body, fear +Him who is able to destroy both soul and body—sounded +very full of meaning in the ears of men who knew that +those who could kill the body were not far off. And +very precious was his assurance that, notwithstanding +every danger that menaced them, “the hairs of their +head were numbered” by that Father who loved and +would protect them.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But when George read, “Whosoever shall deny me +before men, him will I also deny before my Father which +is in heaven,” David Stratton could no longer control +his emotion. Rising from his seat on the trunk of a +fallen tree, he threw himself suddenly on his knees, and +lifted up his eyes and hands to heaven as one in an +ecstasy of prayer. For some moments he was silent, +but at length he spoke aloud, or rather “burst forth in +these words:” “O Lord, I hae been vera wicked, and +justly mightest thou take thy grace frae me. But, Lord, +for thy mercy’s sake, let me never deny thee, or thy +truth, for the fear of death or corporal pain.”<a id='r35'></a><a href='#f35' class='c014'><sup>[35]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c013'>George said “Amen” to his prayer, but he felt awed, +as well as touched and solemnized. And it may be that +his heart shrank in terror from the prospect that prayer +unveiled before him. For his uncle had become very dear +to him, “both in the flesh and in the Lord.” And still,</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Howe’er assured be faith,</div> + <div class='line'>To say farewell is fraught with gloom;”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c016'><span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>and “death and corporal pain” are fearful realities to +contemplate. Far more fearful for those we love than +for ourselves! For who does not know how hard it +sometimes is to acquiesce in God’s dealings with our +beloved ones, and by what agonizing lessons the heart +is taught that for them “it was good to suffer <i>here</i>, that +they might reign <i>hereafter</i>; to bear the cross <i>below</i>, that +they might wear the crown <i>above</i>;” and that it was that +they might be made like unto Him, that “He had placed +them in the furnace, sitting by as a refiner of silver, until +they should reflect his image.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_286.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_287.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>VI.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>Entering into the Cloud.</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Know then, my soul, God’s will controls</div> + <div class='line in2'>Whate’er thou fearest:</div> + <div class='line'>Round him in calmest music rolls</div> + <div class='line in2'>Whate’er thou hearest.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_287b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_289.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>VI.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>Entering into the Cloud.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_289.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +Mistress Alison Lindsay sat alone in +one of the smaller apartments of Lauriston +Castle. She had scarcely moved since Lady +Isabel quitted the room, more than an hour before; the +cunning “stitch-work,” with which she had been occupied, +lay unheeded on the table; her fair face was clouded +with care and anxiety, and her large dark eyes, which so +often sparkled with merriment, were full of thoughtful +sadness, and now and then dimmed with tears.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Alison’s heart was indeed sorely troubled and cast +down within her; but why was this? The answer is easy; +the same Word that had brought peace and joy to the +heart dearest to her on earth, had brought bitter sorrow +and perplexity to hers. For the present life, fear and +anguish where all had been bright before; for the future, +light indeed, but light that disturbed and dazzled, without +guiding or cheering the bewildered soul. It perplexed +and troubled her that the peace of her little world should +<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>have been invaded by these “new doctrines.” The old +faith was good enough for her, good enough for her +kindred and her friends, and certainly good enough for +Maister David Stratton. She knew him ere this strange +spell had fallen upon him; she thought him then as +brave and bold a gentleman as ever claimed a lady’s +hand; and she would not willingly have had him +changed. She had been so happy, so content with her +lot, envying no one, desiring nothing beyond what she +had either in possession or in prospect, when the consequences +of David’s perverse quarrel with the Prior fell +like a thunderbolt upon her, causing her the first real +sorrow she had ever known. Yet even while she blamed, +in her heart she half admired his reckless courage and +daring. And she never ceased to anticipate a satisfactory +termination of the dispute, through the mediation of his +friends, and the slow but sure actings of his own good +sense.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Great, therefore, was her horror when, upon his late +arrival at Lauriston, he committed himself openly to sentiments +which put a more formidable obstacle in the +way of his reconciliation with the Kirk, than personal +quarrels with half the kirkmen in Scotland would have +done. Naturally intelligent and thoughtful, she had +more definite ideas on the subject of heresy than any +one in the castle, except Sir William Ker. It would +not have been possible for her to become, without +<span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>knowing it, more than half a Protestant, as her less +reflective cousin Isabel had already done. She was too +well informed upon the tenets of her own faith for this; +and besides, she did not possess one of those illogical, +though perhaps in some respects happily constituted +minds, in which opinions actually inconsistent with each +other can remain together as peaceably as the leopard +and the lamb will do in the future millennium. She +knew only too well that David’s words were heresy; and +she believed that heresy meant <i>ruin</i>, both to soul and +body. And for life or death, for good or evil, his fate +and hers were bound together. She had never loved him +half so well, and yet she had never felt half so indignant +with him. Nor was her anger unreasonable; since, as +she then supposed, it was solely in the pride of his heart, +and in his unreasoning wrath against the kirkmen, that +he threw himself into that yawning gulf of heresy, thus +very nearly committing an actual as well as a spiritual +suicide. She did not think that any form of doctrine, +as such, could possess much interest or significance for +David Stratton. She supposed that in his eyes the +errors of the Catholic Faith consisted in its being upheld +by such men as the Prior of St. Andrews; and that the +charm of the new doctrines might be found in the fact +that, if they prevailed, neither priories nor parishes, nor +the rents and tithes accruing therefrom, would be left +to Patrick Hepburn and Robert Lawson.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>But after her first interview with him, she began to +feel she had done him an injustice. She could not fail +to perceive how marvellously these new doctrines had +quickened both his mind and his heart. The earnestness +with which he explained and enforced them first +surprised, then touched her. She thought it only fair +and generous not to condemn him unheard, but to +allow him a full opportunity of stating his convictions. +Otherwise, how could she combat them successfully? +And she was resolved upon making the attempt; +though less from any abstract zeal for the conversion of +heretics in general, than from her intense and personal +interest in the fate of this one particular heretic. On +the other hand, he was as anxious for her conversion as +she could possibly be for his; so that their conversations +on the subject of religion were naturally neither few nor +passing.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The consequences soon became apparent to those +around them, and very painfully so to Alison herself. +The faith of her childhood was first shaken, then +actually overthrown. In any sensitive mind, this process +must necessarily be attended with great suffering; +but especially so if nothing be accepted as a substitute +for that which is displaced. This in a sense, though +only in a sense, was the case with Alison Lindsay. +David had indeed presented her with the jewel of Truth, +and she had taken it from his hand, and laid it up +<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>amongst her treasures; still it might be said that she +knew nothing of its beauty or value. For her no ray of +light from above had fallen upon it, calling forth its +brilliancy and lustre; it was a diamond, but a diamond +unillumined by the sunshine; clear indeed and pure, but +cold and colourless. How could such a possession as +this repay her for all she must surrender for it—for the +sparkling brilliant of earthly happiness, as well as for her +early faith—once accounted a precious gem, though now +discovered to be only a clever, beautiful imitation?</p> + +<p class='c013'>To drop the metaphor, she had received a creed, but +she had not yet received life. And something more +than a creed is necessary to enable a man—that we say +not, a woman—to abandon all that the heart holds dear, +whether of association with the past, or of hope for the +future. Such sacrifices she felt might now be demanded +from her, and her heart shrank back in terror from the +demand. It was no wonder, therefore, that as she sat +alone that morning her thoughts were very mournful +ones.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But the sound of an approaching footstep made her +start, and brought a deeper colour to her cheek. She +hastily took up her work; but had not added a single +stitch to the “pearling” she was embroidering, ere David +Stratton stood beside her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Mistress Alison, I hae twa or three things to say to +ye; hae ye time to hear me?” he asked, in tones which +<span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>showed that the gentleness and deference with which he +always addressed her were mingled in this instance with +a shade of embarrassment.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There’s nothing to hinder, that I ken,” said Alison, +glancing at her work. “Isabel’s in the wool-room, sorting +wool for the lasses to spin.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>David drew nearer the carved oak chair in which +Alison sat. They formed rather a striking contrast. +Alison wore a kirtle of fine taffetas of a deep full blue; +a silken snood of the same colour edged with silver confined +her rich dark hair; and seldom did the bright cold +sunshine of March rest on a more graceful form or a +fairer face than hers. David was dressed in a maud, or +rough gray overcoat, and buskins of untanned leather, +which were splashed here and there with mud. The +wind had been dealing rather rudely with his brown +hair, and his honest and manly, though not handsome +face, was flushed with exercise. Thus much the eye +could take in at a glance; there were other things, not +so apparent, but of deeper significance. In <i>her</i> countenance +there was a kind of surface quiet and repose, but +underneath this all was restless, and fear and anxiety +flowed on in dark waves; in <i>his</i> there was momentary +agitation, as if he had just heard some disturbing tidings, +but beneath the disturbance there was a settled calm, +telling that his soul dwelt habitually in a peace no outward +agitation could destroy.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>“I hae ridden hame this morn, and I’m but just back +again,” he began, in his rather abrupt way.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nae need to tell that,” Alison could not help saying, +with a quick glance at the mud on his boots. Little +heed would she have given to such trifles, had she +guessed the thoughts that were occupying his mind.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I fand there ane young man, familiar to the Laird o’ +Dune, wha was speiring after me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Weel?” said Alison, rather wondering what this +would come to.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He brought me tidings;—Mistress Alison, I maun +gang my ways, I daur bide here nae langer.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Alison’s colour changed rapidly from red to pale, and +from pale again to red. “But what danger threatens +you?” she asked quickly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye ken that unco weel yersel,” answered David.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, but they darena touch a gentleman, a laird’s +brother”—yet the lips that uttered these confident words +were growing white with terror.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Na, na, Mistress Alice,” said David gently, but +with great earnestness, “ye mauna stay yersel on what’s +no <i>true</i>. Maister Patrick Hamilton was better than a +laird’s brither, he was Abbot o’ Ferne; and forbye that, +he had the best bluid o’ Scotland in his veins; yet ye +ken they brent him to ashes at the stake. But the +guid Lord is aboon them a’; gin it’s his will to save me +alive, a’ the kirkmen in Scotland canna touch a hair o’ +<span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>my head; gin it’s his will I suld dee, his holy will be +done!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But why do ye say sic’ awful things?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Because I’m <i>warned</i>, Mistress Alice; Erskine sent +his servant to warn me. He hath had certain tidings +that the Prior and the Bishop o’ Ross (God forgie them) +’ill no rest till they finish their wark. Sae I maun just +gang awa’.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do no such thing,” interrupted Alison hastily. +“Bide here, Maister David. There’s no place in Scotland +sae safe for ye as the laird yer brither’s castle.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay, but then there’s Geordie. Gin folk begin to +speir after heretics at Lauriston Castle, it’s like they +wadna end wi’ David Stratton. And that’s why I darena +quit the country, lest the blame might fall whaur it +suldna, and better men pay the wyte for me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye’re no right there,” said Alison eagerly, almost +sharply. “Ilka man should fend for himself. Forbye, +there are others as deep or deeper than you in it, David. +What have ye done mair than John Erskine o’ Dune? +Yet he bides safe and siccar—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And God keep him safe and siccar, for the sake of +a’ that love his name in this puir country. Mistress +Alice, when first I kenned the Lord, I was sair fashed +wi’ mysel for a’ my foolery anent the Prior’s tithe. But +noo I’m richt sure it was God himsel let a’ that be. Gin +it hadna been for that, I might hae never learned his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>truth ava’; and forbye, it’s unco weel the bishops suld +misdoot a simple man like me, and hunt me down for +a thing like that, or wha kens but they might be doing +waur?—Aiblins speiring after Geordie, or Erskine o’ +Dune, or that braw young scholar—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“O David, dinna say such words!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But her tones, though just a little reproachful, were +very low and quiet; and he did not see her face—she +had veiled it with her hand. Else surely he would not +have gone on—“For the folk wha hae got lear can do +sae muckle for the Lord. He canna spare sic’ as thae. +He has sair need o’ them to speed his wark here, and to +tell ither folk about him. But I’m aye unco slow wi’ +my tongue; sae I think, an’ the guid Lord wad let me +suffer for him, it wad be just the best—Wae’s me! +what hae I done? Alice—<i>dear</i> Alice!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>For Alison could no longer either restrain or conceal +the anguish his words inflicted. Did David know <i>what</i> +he was doing? There he stood, cold and calm, reasoning +about that, to her, dim abstraction he called “the +Truth,” and the best way in which its interests might be +forwarded, while his own life—his precious life—was an +item in the calculation. A mere figure, a something to +be carried to this side or that, to be preserved or blotted +out, as best might help to produce the wished-for result! +To her this indifference seemed horrible. If, in her +bitter pain, she could have found words at all, those +<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>words would have been, “You care not for yourself, +but care you nothing for me?” But words would not +come, only tears, and low choking sobs.</p> + +<p class='c013'>David Stratton soothed her with a tenderness of which +few would have believed him capable. Not now indeed, +but often during the long after years, Alison confessed +to herself that it was worth while to have shed some +tears and suffered some pain, in order to be comforted +thus, and to win such words and looks from that silent, +undemonstrative nature.</p> + +<p class='c013'>When she grew calmer, he said remorsefully, “I hae +done wrang to say sic’ things. For ye ken, a’s no tint +that’s in danger. The king’s aboon the bishops, and our +King Jamie makes na muckle count o’ kirkmen. But I +lippen a’ to the guid Lord, and Alice, ye maun just do +the same.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But I canna, David. I’m no like you.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye haud the Truth, Alice?—ye love the guid Lord +Jesus?” The two questions were asked in a quick, +eager whisper, and without any pause between, as if +they were indeed but one.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Alice answered slowly and sadly, perhaps reluctantly, +“I haud what you taught me, David. I dinna pray to +saints, I dinna believe in purgatory, I dinna think our ain +works can save our souls. But all that doesna make +it an easy thing to dee, or—whilk is waur—to see ithers +dee.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>What David Stratton felt at that moment came nearer +the bitterness of death than anything he had ever known +before. “Alice”—he began; but his broad chest heaved +with emotion, and for some time the words struggled in +vain for utterance. “Alice,” he said at length, stretching +out his hand to her—“Alice, forgie me; for I misdoot +sair I hae done an ill pairt by ye. I suld hae bided +awa’. I suld hae never seen yer face again (though it’s +dearer, God wot, than heaven’s ain licht to me!)—that +were better far than to drag ye down into a’ this grief +and dole. No that it’s dole to me, but for the thocht o’ +<i>you</i>, Alice. But is it owre late yet to say good-bye—God +speed ye—forget a’ that’s been between us?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Alison rose calm and pale, and put her small hand +into his. There was a light in her dark eyes, and her +voice, though low and quiet, had no trembling in its +tones. “David Stratton,” she said, “it <i>is</i> owre late. +There be some gifts that can never be taken back; and +of such I hae given you. No that I’m wae for that. +Gif I could, I would not be again the merry lass I was +ere I kenned you, David. I—I—canna say mair on’t, +but take that thought with you through all that may +happen to us baith. Whatever God sends, you shall +hear no murmur frae my lips. But pray for me, for I +wot weel I havena your faith.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>David Stratton did not exaggerate his own danger. +But the fear of involving others in the same peril made +<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>him deaf to his brother’s affectionate, and under the +circumstances really generous entreaties that he would +still remain a guest at the castle. On the following +morning he returned to his own secluded residence on +the sea-coast, intending to live there, in as private a +manner as he could, until the storm either broke or blew +over.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Isabel tried hard to console her young cousin, and to +persuade her that all would yet end happily. David had +powerful friends, she said; the Strattons stood well with +the king, and he would never allow the kirkmen to proceed +to extremities against one of the name. “It was +not to be denied,” she added, “that David had advanced +very strange opinions, and been very imprudent in his +conduct; but yet—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Here Alison indignantly interrupted her. “Ye’ve no +right to say that, Isabel. Gif Maister David makes sma’ +count of this world, it’s because he’ll hae a better portion +in the world to come than you or I, or aebody else. His +faith in God is just wonnerful; it’s nigh the grandest and +noblest thing I hae ever seen. But wae’s me!” she +added, in an altered tone, “why might we no have +been left to live and die in peace like other folk? +Wherein have we offended, that all this should come +upon us?—I wot weel <i>he</i> would say, ‘God’s will be +done.’ But oh, Isabel, <i>my heart</i> willna say it!—at least, +no yet.”</p> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_301.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>VII.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>Voices in the Cloud.</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Thanks for the little spring of love,</div> + <div class='line in2'>That gives me strength to say,</div> + <div class='line'>If they will leave me part in Him,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Let all things pass away.”</div> + <div class='line in24'><span class='sc'>A. L. Waring.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_301b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_303.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>VII.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>Voices in the Cloud.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_303.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +Three months after that sunny March morning, +the young Master of Lauriston rode one day +to the gate of his uncle’s dwelling, usually +called Stratton House. This was a rude building, half +castle, half farmstead, erected by some Stratton of a +former generation, who having quarrelled with the laird +of his time, chose to lead a life of independence in his +own abode. It was situated on a hill, and close to the +sea-shore; and many a time from the narrow windows +had David watched his little ship as it struggled with the +breakers; oftener still, in the gray morning light, had he +trod the rough footway to the beach, prepared for a +cruise along the coast of Angus, half for business and +half for pleasure. Or after such an expedition, he had +landed there, bringing with him his troop of swarthy, +sunburnt fishermen, to drink huge flagons of double ale, +and to fill the gloomy hall with their rough merriment. +But these days were passed now, passed for ever. At +<span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>the time of George’s visit, all within the house was still +and silent. David was busy superintending the concerns +of his little farm, and the servants were assisting him in +the field work. He perceived, however, the approach +of his guest, and quickly came to meet him, soiled and +heated, but with a face beaming with pleasure.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Eh, but I’m unco blythe ye’ve come, lad: guid day +to ye. Here, Jock,” addressing a boy who had followed +him from the field, “tak’ young Maister’s horse.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>George warmly grasped his uncle’s extended hand, and +then followed him into the hall, which presented a rather +bare and comfortless appearance, having scarcely any +furniture but a long table and some benches and settles +by the wall. He was pressed to take a cup of sack, a +draught of French wine (his father’s present), or even a +horn of ale, with other more substantial refreshments, +but he declined, promising to wait for the evening meal.</p> + +<p class='c013'>After some little conversation on indifferent subjects, +he drew out his precious New Testament, saying, “I +think ye wad scarce give me a welcome without this, +uncle.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>David’s blue eyes kindled with eagerness; then a shade +of sorrow crossed his face, and he said mournfully, “Gin +I had to live owre again, I wad tak’ tent, and get book +lear while I might, and no be like yon puir cripple at +the pool o’ Bethesda, wha had to lie there his lane the +haill day lang, and see ither folk gang in and get the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>blessing, a’ because he couldna fend for himsel, and +there was naebody by that wad fend for him, for the +love o’ God.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But then, uncle, ye ken the Lord Jesus did the +wark <i>himsel</i>, with ane word of his mouth. It was He +wha gave the waters their power to heal, sending his +angel to trouble them. An’ if he pleased, he could heal +just as well without them.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh ay, Geordie, I ken what ye’re ettling after.<a id='r36'></a><a href='#f36' class='c014'><sup>[36]</sup></a> +Folk might read yer wee book frae ane end to the ither, +and no be the wiser, gin the guid Lord didna speak +himsel to their ane hearts the while. When it’s his +will to speak, he can do it, an’ he pleases, but book, or +priest, or sacrament. For he’s the Lord.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That’s owre true, uncle.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay, but ye’ve no a chance to learn <i>how</i> true, sin’ ye +dinna stan’ as I do, like a wrecked seaman on a bit +rock, between life and death as a man might say.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>George looked at his uncle in some surprise. Never +from the lips of David Stratton had friend or foe heard +words of complaint before. He had always made light +of danger; almost too light, George had often thought. +He answered, with a smile, “It’s time I suld come to +speir after you, uncle. I think ye have bided your lane +owre lang.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Na, it’s no that, Geordie. No that I wadna be blythe +<span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>to see ye ony day, lad; for yer ain sake, and for the +book ye aye bring wi’ ye. But I’m no my lane here +ava’. What wi’ the lads and the lasses, and the fisherfolk, +there’s enoo to tell the Lord’s love to, and mony’s +the hour I spend in the house or the field, or by the sea-shore, +just talking wi’ Him. Geordie lad, I kenned +him first as the Saviour—the guid Lord that deed for +me. But forbye that, I hae come to ken him noo as +my ain, anely friend, wha can read off ilka bit thocht or +trouble in the heart as easy as you can read thae wee +crooked marks in your book.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But for a’ that, uncle, are ye no cast down and +sorrowfu’ whiles?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No that sorrowfu’ Geordie. This life’s no sae lang, +nor sae guid either, that a man suld sit down and greet +for it, like a bairn wha hae tint a play-toy.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But methinks ye’ve no tint all yet, even for this +life?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>David’s brow was mournful, though his blue eyes were +full of light, as he answered, “Do ye no mind the story +ye hae tald me ainst o’ the great King and the puir man, +Geordie? The king (David mixed the allegory and its +application together)—the king had graith and plenishing +and gear enoo, and braw flocks and kye, the puir man +had naebut ane wee lambie.” Here his voice failed, +and a few moments passed before he was able to resume. +“I hae never cared for onything as I care for <i>her</i>. And +<span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>noo, it’s no like I’ll ever see her face again, till we stand +thegither at the judgment-seat o’ Christ. But that’s no +the waurst to bear. Aft and aft hae I cried shame on +mysel for a feckless tentless coof. Why could I no +haud my peace and bide my time? What gared me +turn my face to Lauriston ava’, quhill that she was there? +Gin trouble suld come to me, its nae wonner, I hae done +enoo to earn it, owre and owre again. And I thank the +Lord I can thole it, thro’ his guid grace. But God help +me! I canna thole the thocht o’ her sorrow.” David’s +head was bowed upon his hands, and his face was hidden +from sight.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“God will help thee, uncle. He hears prayer,” George +said compassionately, almost tenderly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hears prayer! I wad ye, lad, he does, or I’d hae +gane clean daft ere this. But it’s ill to ken what a man +suld pray for whiles. When it’s naebut mysel that’s in +it, it’s a’ plain enoo.” His head was raised now, and his +eyes shone through the tears that had gathered in them. +“Sma’ matter what he gies, or what he taks awa’, sin’ he +has gien me his ainsel. And his ‘loving-kindness is +better than the life itself; my lips shall praise him.’ Gin +I could, I wadna wale to turn ane step frae the gait +he has markit for me. For weel I wot, that I’d tyne +mair than I’d win by that. I’m just in his guid hand, +and there’s nae better place to be in a’ the muckle +warld.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>“And Alison?” asked George gently, “is not she there +too, in the same guid care and keeping?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nae doot of it,” answered David, who, fortunately +for himself, was too simple-minded to doubt that Alison’s +clear intellectual perception of the truth was accompanied +by genuine faith and love. “Still I canna just mak’ it +out. It’s no that easy to trust the Lord wi’ her. Mony’s +the time I pray that he wad gie her a bit portion <i>here</i>, +as weel as in the guid hame aboon—a wee bit joy or +comfort, ye ken, even for this puir life. But it’s a’ dark; +I canna see ane glint before me, or bring to my mind +what he thinks to do wi’ her ava’.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Uncle,” said George, slowly and reverently, “he loves +her mair than you do.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Wonder and incredulity mingled in the gaze David +bent on him; but after a time these passed away, +changing gradually into a full content, calmer than +common joy and deeper than earthly gladness. His +silence was long; ere he spoke again his ear had caught +the sound of footsteps and voices outside, but he heard +them as one in a dream, a happy dream, from which he +would not willingly be awakened.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye’re richt, lad,” he said at length. “Unco hard +it seemed to me to think there <i>could</i> be love mair deep +and true than mine. Fule that I was for that! For I +ken in my ain heart, just a wee bit, what his love is and +can be; and kenning that, whaur I trust my ain soul I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>can trust my soul’s treasure too, God helping me.” And +he stopped, overcome by the fear and shame that so +often seizes upon reserved natures when betrayed by +strong emotion into unwonted self-utterance.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was only too easy for George to turn the conversation. +Not quite so absorbed as his uncle, outward things +had been making rather more impression upon him. “Is +it your wont, uncle, to have guests at Stratton House?” +he asked, with a glance towards the little window.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Aiblins it’s the fisher folk,” answered David. “Tho’ +that’s no like to be; the boatie suld be unco far by this, +maist awa’ to Arbroath.” But he rose and walked quickly +towards the door, followed by George, whose curiosity +was excited by the arrival of strangers in a place so +remote and difficult of access.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Both involuntarily recoiled for a moment from the +scene that met their view. The yard seemed filled with +armed men, dressed in “jacks” or stout buff leather +jerkins, and with steel caps on their heads and spears in +their hands. They had entered unchallenged, for the +servants were all absent at their work in the fields, and +had left wide open the substantial “yetts,” which, if closed, +might have been defended for a considerable time even +against overwhelming odds. But no one dreamed of +danger then. No one knew, that while David Stratton +walked quietly by the sea-shore, holding sweet communion +with Him whom having not seen he loved, or spoke of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>Him in simple strong words to his poor farm-servants +and fishermen, two such important personages as the +Prior of St. Andrews and the Bishop of Ross, assisted by +other Churchmen of less degree, had been taking grave +counsel together as to the best means of apprehending +so dangerous a heretic. They had come to the conclusion +that the business required careful management, as a +desperate resistance might be looked for from the reckless +and daring Stratton of Stratton. Like other great +Churchmen of the day, the Prior maintained a number +of armed men at his own expense and on his own account. +A troop of these “jackmen,” as they were called, were +accordingly destined to this service, supposed to be one +of danger; and they were purposely placed under the +command of a certain Halbert of the Hirst, cousin to +that “black Will” whom David once stabbed in a quarrel +in Dundee. It was with this man that he now stood +face to face, with an instant consciousness of his errand +and of all its terrible import. How often do the great +moments of our lives steal upon us thus with noiseless +footsteps! We may have been watching long for some +great joy or sorrow with strained eyes and parted lips; +but at last there comes an unguarded hour, when weary +lids close unconsciously, and mind and body are at rest, +and then, just then, expectation becomes reality, and the +very event for which we watched and waited takes us by +surprise.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>Thus it was that, while a man might count twenty, +David stood amazed and silent before Halbert of the +Hirst, who briefly and rudely explained his errand, at the +same time showing his warrant for the apprehension of +the excommunicated heretic. But in another moment +Stratton of Stratton was himself again. Not in vain, after +all, had he anticipated this solemn hour.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’m fain to gang wi’ ye,” he answered, calmly and +simply; “and I thank my God I’m no feart to answer +for his truth the day.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Here George interposed impetuously; entreating Halbert +to come with him to Lauriston Castle, and promising +that, if he did so, his father the Laird would give ample +securities for his uncle.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But Halbert shook his head. His orders were precise, +he said: he was to bring Maister David Stratton, dead +or alive, to St. Andrews, and he would not be found +wanting in his duty to those that sent him for all the +lairds in Scotland, be they who they might.</p> + +<p class='c013'>George would have pleaded further, but David silenced +him, saying, “Na, na, Geordie; dinna fash yersel, it’s a’ +richt.” Then turning to Halbert, “Ye’ll bait yer horse +and tak a drink? Yon puir lads’ll no be laith for that, +seeing the day’s unco het, and it’s a lang gait up the +hill.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Halbert, however, declined the proffered hospitality, +which he feared might cover some snare. His impatience +<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>to set out on his way was extreme. He could scarcely +believe his own good fortune, in having so easily secured +his captive, and every moment’s delay seemed to him +fraught with unknown perils of rescue, flight, or evasion.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The farm-servants, as yet surprised and curious rather +than alarmed, now came running in from all directions.</p> + +<p class='c013'>One of them was immediately desired to saddle a +horse for his master, but on no account would Halbert +lose sight of the prisoner even for a minute. Perceiving +this, David asked George to bring him a little money +and a few other necessaries for his journey, giving his +directions with a calmness that contrasted strongly with +his nephew’s ill-concealed agitation.</p> + +<p class='c013'>When George returned, David was already taking a +hasty but kind farewell of the perplexed and terrified +servants. Halbert of the Hirst stood a little apart, +leaning upon his spear; perhaps he was beginning, in +spite of himself, to feel a sort of respect for his captive. +George turned towards him, and in a few words bespoke +his courtesy and good offices for Maister David, making +very free use of the name and influence of the Laird of +Lauriston. This was little, certainly, to do for a relative +so dear to him, but it was all he could under the circumstances. +Then came the parting moment.</p> + +<p class='c013'>David lowered his voice, “Geordie, lad, will ye do me +ane kindness the day, for auld lang syne?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Onything ye list, uncle.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span>“Then stay not—ride quick to Edzell (the family-seat +of the Lindsays), and tell the tale o’ what has chanced +wi’ me. For I’m feart the country folk’ll hae a phrase +about it, and mak’ it waur than it is, ten times owre. +But I lippen a’ to you, Geordie. Ye’ll do the best ye +can, and help and comfort <i>her</i>, for my sake. Tell her +God is wi’ me, and he’ll no leave nor forsake me, even +to the end. And I’ll pray day and nicht for her, for thy +guid faither and mither, and for thee, Geordie. God +bless thee, lad!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was no shame to that brave man that he took his +young kinsman in his arms, strained him to his heart, +and pressed his lips to his. Nor to George that his tears +fell fast, and his voice was not calm enough to return his +uncle’s blessing. For they were parting beside the grave, +and they knew it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>A few minutes afterwards George stood alone, watching +the soldiers as they marched down the hills, with the +sun flashing upon their steel caps and spears. The blow +had fallen so suddenly that he could scarcely realize +it; yet its very suddenness was, in some respects, a +merciful provision. Had there been time and opportunity, +the habits of his previous life might so far have +prevailed with David Stratton as to induce him to offer +some resistance. The manners of the age, and the lawless +state of the country would have excused such a +course; and, moreover, David might well have felt that, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span>though he owed loyal obedience to “the king as supreme,” +he owed none to proud and domineering +Churchmen, who, according to their too frequent practice, +were taking justice—or injustice—“at their own hand.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Yet, natural and excusable as a violent resistance +might have been, David would have forfeited much +thereby. There is great dignity in submission; dignity +which the heart feels, even when the reason cannot +analyze it. No rebuke is so crushing as that which the +apostle addressed to the persecutors of his day, “Ye +have condemned and killed the just, and <i>he doth not resist +you</i>.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And “he who suffers conquers;” that is, he who +suffers willingly, patiently, bravely. Victories thus won, +silent and often unnoticed though they be, are the best +and noblest earth’s trampled battle-field has ever witnessed; +nor, however times may change, shall they +wholly cease, until He comes who shall bring peace to +the nations.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_314.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_315.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>VIII.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>The Cloud Breaks.</span></h2> +</div> +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in10'>“God’s Spirit sweet,</div> + <div class='line in10'>Still thou the heat</div> + <div class='line'>Of our passionate hearts when they rave and beat.</div> + <div class='line in10'>Quiet their swell,</div> + <div class='line in10'>And gently tell</div> + <div class='line'>That his right hand doth all things well.”</div> + <div class='line in44'><span class='sc'>C. F. Alexander.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_315b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_317.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>VIII.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>The Cloud Breaks.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_317.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +David Stratton’s heart was not likely to +sink when the trial he had anticipated actually +came. He was constitutionally brave; gifted +indeed with</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“A spirit that would dare</div> + <div class='line'>The deadliest form that death could take,</div> + <div class='line'>And dare it for the daring’s sake.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>Not that his fortitude was of the very highest and noblest +kind; of such fortitude, strange as it may seem, that +nature is only capable which is also capable of the intensest +agony of fear. It is the heart sensitive enough +to apprehend and to feel in its utmost bitterness every +pang that can be inflicted, that will rise, by God’s grace, +to the loftiest height of gentle, self-forgetting heroism in +the hour of anguish. But even if David Stratton’s courage +was not, like one of Solomon’s targets, of beaten gold +pure and precious, it was at least “a right good shield of +hides untanned,” strong and serviceable in the day of +battle.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span>When, therefore, he was apprehended and brought a +prisoner to Edinburgh, he was probably not by any +means the greatest sufferer himself. Other hearts +trembled more than his, when at last he was “produced +in judgment in the Abbey of Holy rood House, +the king himself (all clad in red) being present.” A +priest named Norman Gourlay was his companion in +faith and suffering. The priest was accused of having said +“that there was no such thing as purgatory, and that the +Pope was not a bishop, but Antichrist, and had no jurisdiction +in Scotland.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Against David the old accusation was revived. Robert +Lawson, vicar of Ecclescreig, deposed to his unmannerly +refusal of the tithes demanded by him on behalf of the +Prior of St. Andrews. To this was added an offence +more recently committed—“that he said there was no +purgatory but the passion of Christ and the tribulations +of this world.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>The king, most anxious to save him, earnestly +entreated him to recant, and to “burn his bill.” But in +vain. “I have offended in nothing,” said brave, honest +David Stratton.</p> + +<p class='c013'>His was not the tongue of the learned; he had no +words of burning eloquence wherewith to explain and +defend the faith so precious to his heart; yet, as was once +said by another of Christ’s true disciples, he “could not +speak for him, but he could die for him.” No threats—no +<span class='pageno' id='Page_319'>319</span>persuasions could turn him from his simple strong +adherence to the cause of truth and right. He “stood +ever at his defence,” maintaining that he had done no +wrong, and therefore refusing to retract.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then, before all that awe-struck assembly, the terrible +sentence was pronounced—<i>death by fire</i>.</p> + +<p class='c013'>David heard it with undaunted courage. Death had +no terrors for him, for he knew in whom he had believed, +and was persuaded that He was able to keep that which +he committed to him against that day. Still, for the sake +of one far away whose heart would bleed, he desired to +live, if life might be preserved without unfaithfulness to +his God. He made, therefore, one last effort to save +himself by appealing to the king and asking his grace.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The king’s heart was touched, and words of mercy and +pardon trembled on his lips. But the Bishop of Ross, +who managed the prosecution upon this occasion, +proudly interposed. “Your hands are bound in this +case,” said he. “You have no grace to give to such as +are condemned by the Church’s law.” So little did a +king’s compassion avail the victims of priestly cruelty.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There is no need to linger over the rest of the story; +a few brief words may suffice to tell it. On the 27th of +August 1534, Norman Gourlay and David Stratton sealed +their testimony with their lives. They were strangled, +and their bodies burned at a place “besydis the rood of +Greenside;” probably near the road that now leads from +<span class='pageno' id='Page_320'>320</span>the Calton Hill to Leith. It is recorded that David +Stratton consoled and encouraged his fellow-sufferer +to the last. We know not why a less painful death +was granted these two than that which in those days +usually fell to the lot of the witnesses for Christ. But +after all, it mattered little through what gate they passed +from earth, with its sin and sorrow, to the brightness +of their Saviour’s presence. In that presence it was +well with them—nay, it <i>is</i> well—for years and centuries +make no change in the blessedness of those who, absent +from the body, are present with the Lord, and “await +their perfect consummation and bliss, both in body and +soul, in his eternal and everlasting glory.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But how was it with the inmates of Lauriston Castle +when these sad tidings reached them? How the Laird +mourned his brother, or George his uncle—rather his +loved and valued friend—might indeed easily be told. +But Alison Lindsay, in the restlessness of her anxious +and sorrowful heart, had once again sought the shelter +of that roof, only to learn the terrible truth from the +lips of her cousin Isabel—and who shall paint anguish +such as hers?</p> + +<p class='c013'>We know, alas!—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“What bitter words we speak,</div> + <div class='line in2'>When God speaks of resigning;”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c016'>though it is his own voice that asks us to give up our +treasure, and his own loving hand, not the cruel violence +<span class='pageno' id='Page_321'>321</span>of men, that takes it gently from our arms. We know +how hard it is to bury our dead out of our sight, even +when, as oft as we will, our tears may water the seed +sown in “God’s acre” against the harvest of the resurrection. +What would it be if, without farewell, without +last look or parting word, that to which our hearts cling +so fondly were snatched from us; and even the lifeless +form—still so precious—denied a grave, burned to ashes, +and scattered to the winds of heaven? Yet all this +many women have borne, and borne bravely and meekly, +not cursing God or man, but learning day by day to love +and pray through all, and to possess their souls in +patience. Surely, besides that written here below, there +is another “Book of Martyrs”—a book in which He +who himself wept over the dead, has recorded those +tears and agonies, worse than stake or gibbet, shed in +secret and endured in silence, for his name’s sake.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But if it be only the willing sacrifice He accepts, +Alison could not yet receive the joy of that sacrifice to +compensate for her bitter pain. While hope remained +she had prayed for David’s life, if indeed the cry sent up +from her agonized heart to him who was as yet to her +the unknown God, could be called prayer. ‘Surely’ (she +thought), ‘the God whom he served continually could and +would deliver his faithful witness from the hands of his +enemies. He would never suffer the bad to triumph, +and the good to perish thus. He would take care of his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_322'>322</span>own cause.’ So, even to the last, she sought to reason +herself into trustful hope, if not into confidence. And +then the blow came. Her life was desolate; earth was +dark—dark for ever; nor did any light from Heaven +shine in upon its midnight gloom. For had not her hope +deceived her? was not her prayer given back into her +own bosom? And yet she could not say, “It was a +chance that happened us.” She could not forget God—there +are situations in which this is impossible; she recognized +his mighty hand, and bowed beneath it—alas! +not in resignation, but in despair. The language of her +heart was not, “It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth +him good;” but rather, “O Lord, take, I beseech thee, +my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to +live.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Those around her, though they longed to comfort, yet +had to stand apart, for it is God’s ordinance that through +all deep waters the soul must pass alone. In the great +silence that he makes around the mourner, every human +voice dies away that his, and his alone, may be heard. +It is a fearful thing when <i>He</i> is silent! Then to the +tried and tortured heart come the whispers of the +tempter, the “adversary” of God and man. Such +whispers came to Alison. First, they said to her, +“There is no God;” but well she knew that was false. +Then came the more subtle suggestion, “There is a God, +but he cares not for you. He does what he pleases in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_323'>323</span>heaven and upon earth, heedless of the happiness or the +misery of the creatures his hand has made.” And +Alison said in her heart, “It is so in truth;”—thus from +despair she passed into rebellion, and again rebellion +engendered despair.</p> + +<p class='c013'>All this time she did not weep, or wept but seldom. +Nor would she speak of the past even to her cousin +Isabel, after having once heard, with a calmness that +seemed terrible to those who told it, the tale of David’s +trial, condemnation, and martyrdom. But George took +care frequently to leave in her way the Testament from +which David had so loved to hear the words of truth. +Remembering how earnestly he had urged its study +upon her, she took it to her own apartment, and there +read it, often for hours together. At first her attention +wandered, and she scarcely tried to fix it, believing herself +already sufficiently familiar both with the history and +the doctrines of the book. But gradually she became +interested in what she read. Now and then a passage +would arrest and touch her; some parable or narrative it +might be, which she had heard in David’s presence, or +he had spoken of to her. And then tears would come, +welcome tears, that relieved the heart of some of its +heavy burden. She began to grow humbler in her +sorrow, to take sympathy gently if not thankfully, and to +long to hear of him she had lost from those who knew +and loved him.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_324'>324</span>Thus it happened that George told her one day of his +last interview with David. She heard all in silence, +determined to restrain her emotion, at least in George’s +presence; with Isabel it might have been different. But +when she heard that David had been willing to trust her +where he trusted his own soul, because he knew by +experience even a little of that love passing knowledge, +wherewith he had been loved, so strong was the rush of +feeling, that in spite of all self-restraint, there were +heavy sobs and tears, though they were not wholly for +sorrow.</p> + +<p class='c013'>George would willingly have consoled her, but he +knew not what to say or do. He was about to leave the +room, when the thought occurred to him that if he did +not finish his story now he might probably never have +another opportunity. Before the conversation began, he +had been reading the Testament to his mother and +Alison; but Lady Isabel having been called away, he +had laid the book aside. He now quietly resumed +where he had left off; and these were the words that fell +upon the ear of Alison: “And when even was now come, +his disciples went down unto the sea, and entered into a +ship, and went over the sea toward Capernaum. And it +was now dark, and Jesus was not come to them. And +the sea arose, by reason of a great wind that blew. So +when they had rowed about five and twenty or thirty +furlongs, they see Jesus walking on the sea, and drawing +<span class='pageno' id='Page_325'>325</span>nigh unto the ship: and they were afraid. But he saith +unto them, It is I; be not afraid. Then they willingly +received him into the ship: and immediately the ship +was at the land whither they went.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>No words she ever heard had been to Alison what +those words were then. To her sorrowful but softened +heart they seemed an image of her own condition. Was +she not alone—as it were—on a stormy sea, amidst wild +and tossing breakers? “And it was now dark, and Jesus +was not come.” Was it because he cared not? Oh, +no; his heart was full of love. Whatever else she +doubted, henceforward she would not doubt of this. +But would he come to her? Surely she would “receive +him willingly.” Would he but say to her: “It is I; +be not afraid?” Would he but reveal himself as he +had done to one she loved? Then all might yet be +well, and a bright and blessed morning dawn upon +her night of weeping.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She thanked George calmly enough, and then withdrew +to the welcome refuge of her own room. As her +heart had known its own bitterness, so with this newly +awakened hope no stranger might intermeddle. Thus it +is, almost always, with deep natures. Whether we lose +or win, we must fight our great battles alone. Alone! +but if once we have learned to “cry to the strong for +strength”—because we know that the strong is also the +loving One, and therefore will surely hear us—it is no +<span class='pageno' id='Page_326'>326</span>longer doubtful whether victory will be ours or no. +Weary and heavy laden heart, be comforted; “thou +wouldst not be seeking him, if he had not already +found thee.”<a id='r37'></a><a href='#f37' class='c014'><sup>[37]</sup></a></p> + +<p class='c013'>Very soon Alison’s prayer was answered, and the desire +of her heart was given her. She found rest in Christ; +and though still she wept for the earthly treasure his +hand had taken, she wept like a child sobbing out its +grief in its mother’s arms; not like one standing outside +in the cold and dark, knocking in vain at a closed door. +Christ had revealed himself to her as her Saviour, her +Redeemer, her ever-living Friend. And having seen him, +she had seen the Father also; she knew him as her +Father who loved and cared for her. Once she could +not say: “It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him +good;” <i>now</i>, “Even so, Father, for so it seemeth good +in thy sight,” was the voice of her resigned and grateful +heart.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The great sorrow of her life had come to her in midsummer, +when skies, and leaves, and flowers were +brightest, and all nature seemed to rejoice. Peace and +comfort came when the November winds were whistling +through the leafless trees, and the first snows of winter +were whitening the ground.</p> + +<p class='c013'>And even then she arose and went to her own home. +When God visited her and gave her peace, he taught +<span class='pageno' id='Page_327'>327</span>her that she had a work to do for him, and that the +command, “Occupy till I come,” was as truly addressed +to her as though her life had been filled with earthly +ties and earthly happiness. Nay, perhaps it is addressed +to her and to those like her, for their comfort and +blessing, in a sense peculiarly full of meaning; for was +she not called and set apart, even more than others, to +care for the things of the Lord, that she might be holy +both in body and in spirit?</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_327.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_329'>329</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_329.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c004'><span class='c010'>IX.</span><br> <span class='blackletter'>Left Alone.</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c011'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in25'>“Thy love</div> + <div class='line'>Shall chant itself its own beatitudes</div> + <div class='line'>After its own life-working. A child-kiss</div> + <div class='line'>Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad;</div> + <div class='line'>A poor man, served by thee, shall make thee rich;</div> + <div class='line'>A sick man, helped by thee, shall make thee strong;</div> + <div class='line'>Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense</div> + <div class='line'>Of service which thou renderest.”</div> + <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>E. B. Browning.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_329b.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_331'>331</span></div> +<div class='chapter'> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_331.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>IX.</div> + <div><span class='blackletter'>Left Alone.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c005'> + <img class='drop-capi' src='images/di_331.jpg' width='100' alt=''> +</div><p class='drop-capi_8'> +Alison Lindsay found her father and her +brothers full of sympathy for her, and of indignation +at the fate of Stratton. As so often +happens, death had proved a great peace-maker. David’s +punishment had so vastly exceeded his offence, that the +offence itself was altogether consigned to oblivion. Nothing +more was heard of the petulance and obstinacy +with which he had involved himself in the quarrel which +provoked the Lindsays of Edzell to deny him the honour +of their alliance; only his dauntless courage and fortitude +were remembered now. Even young Gavin, who +had once been so glad to bring David his father’s hostile +message, was upon more than one occasion heard to call +him “a martyr.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Knowing something of Alison’s strong affections and +of the determination of her character, and not knowing +the change that had taken place in her views, they half +expected her to evidence her grief for David by bidding +<span class='pageno' id='Page_332'>332</span>the world farewell and retiring to a convent. Great +was their relief to find that the only daughter of their +house had formed no such intention; greater still their +wondering admiration of the quiet fortitude and resignation +with which she bore her heavy sorrow. They had +always known that “our Alison was a brave lass, and +had a great spirit,” but they never thought so highly of +her as when they saw her resuming with energy, and +even with apparent cheerfulness, the occupations (though +not the amusements) suitable to her age and position. +Into all their interests and their harmless pleasures she +entered fully, giving them a sympathy and a toleration +which they in turn learned to extend to her. It was +a signal mark of this toleration that when, in the course +of time, other offers were made for her hand, and +amongst them more than one which, if accepted, would +greatly have advanced family interests; her indulgent +father only said, “Please yerself, my lass;” and her +brothers refused to interfere, on the plea that “our Alice +will aye gang her ain gait.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>To her religion they were gradually led to extend +something more than toleration; and to win their hearts +to it became the great interest, because the great duty, +of her life. The impression made by David’s martyrdom +was not suffered to die out. The precious season of +natural re-action against priestly tyranny was eagerly, +yet wisely, spent in leavening their minds with as much +<span class='pageno' id='Page_333'>333</span>of Scripture truth as they were willing to hear from her +lips. During the five or six following years nearly all +the members of her family were won, at different intervals +and more or less gradually, to the cause of the +Reformation. In some, indeed, the change was merely +outward, but in others it was deeper and more real; +and more than once or twice was Alison given to taste +the full blessedness of leading those she loved to her +Saviour’s feet. Nor was her quiet but effectual work +for him limited to her immediate family. The servants, +the retainers of the household, the poor of the neighbourhood, +all felt her sweet influence for good; she was +unwearied in ministering to their bodily necessities, but +still more anxious to bear to their thirsting souls the +living waters of the Word of God.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Yet it must not be concluded that Alison’s life, whilst +thus rich in blessing for others, was for herself either a +perfectly happy or a perfectly healthful one. In a sense, +indeed, the wound of her heart was healed; but “what +deep wound ever healed without a scar?” and to tell +where <i>that</i> wound had been, a broad deep scar remained. +There was an incompleteness in her life, a sense of want, +a hunger in her heart; and this was felt not so much during +the first year after David’s martyrdom, as during those +that followed it. For when, in that hour of deepest need +and sorrow, God had revealed himself as the strength +of her life and her portion for ever, it seemed as though +<span class='pageno' id='Page_334'>334</span>want or woe could never again come near the heart +he had satisfied with his own fulness. Had he not +made the wilderness to rejoice and blossom as the rose? +Had he not given her songs in the night, as when a holy +solemnity is kept; and with these upon her lips, should +she not come to Zion with everlasting joy, and sorrow +and sighing flee away?</p> + +<p class='c013'>But weeks and months and years rolled on in slow +monotonous succession. Life, with its cares and struggles +and dull every-day realities, drew its meshes around +her again. The brilliant hues and colours of the morning—“the +gold, the crimson, and the scarlet, like the +curtain of God’s tabernacle”—which had heralded the +shining of the sun of righteousness upon her soul, faded +from her, and passed into the light of common day. +True, it was light still and not darkness,—light to live +in, light to work by, light to be thankful for as heaven’s +best gift; and yet sometimes, in spite of all this, tears +would start,—tears not of rebellion, scarcely even of +sorrow, but rather of weariness and loneliness. She +wanted something, she knew not what; and she often +felt that if it were not very wrong, it would be very +sweet to think that the time of her rest in heaven was +not far away.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Those around her understood but little of her inner +life, else, perhaps, they might not inaptly have described +her in the poet’s words,—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_335'>335</span>“You never heard her speak in haste;</div> + <div class='line in2'>Her tones were sweet,</div> + <div class='line'>And modulated just so much</div> + <div class='line in2'>As it was meet.</div> + <div class='line'>Her heart sate silent through the noise</div> + <div class='line in2'>And concourse of the street;</div> + <div class='line'>There was no hurry in her hands,</div> + <div class='line in2'>No hurry in her feet;</div> + <div class='line'>No joy drew ever near to her,</div> + <div class='line in2'>That she should run to greet.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>One thought indeed there was that came to her with +something like a thrill of rapturous hope. As she indulged +it, it returned again and again, and with such +force, that in process of time it became the strongest +temptation of her quiet secluded life. She had early +learned contented acquiescence in God’s dealings with +him she loved, as far as he himself was concerned. She +thought of David Stratton not with resignation only, +but with deep and solemn joy. For she rightly considered +his fate as the most glorious possible to the +sons of men. None of the diadems of earth appeared +to her imagination half so bright as the martyr’s crown. +Was it then so strange, if she gazed on that crown until +she began to long that it might be hers also? Or if she +looked upon the bright pathway by which the martyr had +gone to his rest, until her eyes were so dazzled that the +common beaten road in which God appointed her to +tread seemed dark and void of beauty and interest? That +longing for martyrdom,—is it hard to comprehend, even +for us; knowing as we do, that there are many things +<span class='pageno' id='Page_336'>336</span>worse than death, and sometimes dreaming, as we may, of +the strange sweetness of proving by some great sacrifice +our love to him whose love to us was so great? Does +it seem a thing incredible to us that the men and women +of other days should have rushed unsummoned before +the heathen tribunals, stretching out rash hands to grasp +the fiery cross, and even sinning that they might attain +what so many through the weakness of nature have sinned +that they might avoid? Surely we can sympathize with +Alison Lindsay if, in the loosening of earthly ties, and +the daily strengthening of those that bound her to the +unseen, the thought of such a fate often presented itself +to her mind as a consummation devoutly to be wished +for. Why could not she have died as David Stratton +did?—“for the word of God and for the testimony of +Jesus Christ.” It would have been so easy and so +blessed to give up life in such a cause. That would be +indeed to serve and glorify her Lord and Saviour; and +to enter in joyfully, and with an “abundant entrance,” +within the veil, where her longing heart desired to +be. But her desire was not given her. There was +indeed little fear, or as perhaps she would have phrased +it, little hope, that a life so retired as hers, and so carefully +guarded by loving hearts and hands, should be cut +short by martyrdom.</p> + +<p class='c013'>With an intensity of sympathy and interest which it +is difficult for us to realize, Alison watched the fate of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_337'>337</span>those brave sufferers who—after David Stratton and +Norman Gourlay—sealed their faith with their blood in +Scotland. It almost seemed as if she went with each +one of them in spirit to the very gate of heaven, hoping +that, as it opened to admit the new comer, some gleam +of the glory within might fall on the solitary watcher +outside; and then, when all was over, many a quiet tear +was shed, and many a prayer was whispered,—“How +long, O Lord? Is it not yet enough? Wilt thou not +soon make an end of this tyranny, and give peace and +freedom to thy people in this realm?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Those for whom she wept thus were not too many to +be briefly enumerated here. Four years after the +martyrdom of Stratton and Gourlay, several persons +were burned in one fire on the Castle Hill, Edinburgh, +“when they that were first bound to the stake godly +and marvellously did comfort them that came behind.” +Of four of these brave and faithful witnesses—Kyllour, +Beverage, Sympson, and Forrester—little is known to +us; but the fifth, Dean Thomas Forrest, stands before +us in striking and interesting individuality; his story may +be read in Fox’s “Book of Martyrs.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Alison’s heart thrilled at Forrest’s dying challenge to +one who sought to persuade him to retract—“Before +I deny a word which I have spoken, you shall see this +body of mine blow away with the wind in ashes.” But +she gave perhaps a tenderer sympathy to the two Glasgow +<span class='pageno' id='Page_338'>338</span>martyrs who suffered shortly afterwards. Russell’s gentle +disposition, and Kennedy’s extreme youth (he was only +eighteen), seemed to have softened the hearts of some +of their persecutors; and even the Archbishop of Glasgow +would have allowed them to escape, but for the ferocious +zeal of Cardinal Beaton’s emissaries. Kennedy “at first +was faint, and gladly would have recanted;” but God so +wonderfully revealed himself to him, raising himself +above all fear, and filling his heart with joy and peace, +that he met his doom triumphantly. Nor was Russell +less steadfast. “Brother, fear not,” he said to his young +companion. “More potent is He that is with us than +he that is in the world. The pain that we shall suffer is +short, and shall be light; but our joy and consolation +shall never have an end. And, therefore, let us contend +to enter in unto our Master and Saviour by the same +straight way that he has trod before us. Death cannot +destroy us, for it is destroyed already by him for whose +sake we suffer.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Four years passed ere there were martyr-deaths again +in Scotland. During that interval King James died, and +the Earl of Arran, who succeeded to the principal +authority under the title of Governor, favoured at first +the cause of the Reformation. But this gleam of prosperity +soon faded away, no doubt to the bitter sorrow +and disappointment of many a waiting heart.</p> + +<p class='c013'>That of Alison Lindsay was still beating high with +<span class='pageno' id='Page_339'>339</span>hope for her country and her faith, when a friend of her +father’s, newly arrived from Perth (or, as it was then +called, St. Johnstone), told a tale that awoke deeper and +sadder feelings within her than any she had heard for +the last nine years. Four burghers of that city had been +tried, condemned, and executed, for heresy. They were +humble and simple men, but God-fearing and intelligent, +able to give a reason for the hope that was in +them, and willing to die rather than surrender it. But +the martyr-band also included a woman. Helen Stirk, +the wife of the most advanced and fearless of the +“heretics,” was accused of heresy, and condemned to +die because she refused to pray to the Virgin Mary. +“She desired earnestly to die with her husband, but she +was not suffered; yet, following him to the place of execution, +she gave him comfort, exhorting him to perseverance +and patience for Christ’s sake, and, parting +from him with a kiss, said in this manner: ‘Husband, +rejoice, for we have lived together many joyful days; but +this day in which we must die ought to be most joyful +to us both, because we must have joy for ever. Therefore +I will not bid you good night, for we shall suddenly +meet with joy in the kingdom of heaven.’ The woman +after was taken to a place to be drowned, and albeit +she had a child on her breast, yet this moved nothing +the unmerciful hearts of the enemies. So, after she had +commended her children to the neighbours of the town +<span class='pageno' id='Page_340'>340</span>for God’s sake, and the sucking bairn was given to the +nurse, she sealed up the truth by her death.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Bitterly did the Lindsays execrate this cruelty, exceptional +even in that cruel age, and many were their +invectives against him by whose authority it was perpetrated; +“curses not loud but deep” added to those +already “waiting in calm shadow around” the wicked +Cardinal, until the memorable day when he filled up the +measure of his iniquity, and the land was no longer able +to bear him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But Alison heard the tale in silence; not until she +had entered into her chamber, and shut the door, did +the torrent of mingled feelings it awakened find vent in +tears. How she envied that unknown sister in Christ, +to whom he had given this great joy and glory of suffering +for his name’s sake. How blessed seemed <i>her</i> lot, +to go with him she loved not only to the gate, but within +it. Not to turn back to earth, weary and sorrowful, +to tread that long, long path of life alone,—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c015'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“With aching heart, and weeping eyes,</div> + <div class='line'>And silent lips;”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c016'>but neither by life nor by death to be divided from him, +the pain of the brief parting to be swallowed up in the +joy of the near and certain re-union, and for all farewell +only those sweet words, “I will not bid you good night, +for we shall suddenly meet with joy in the kingdom of +heaven.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_341'>341</span>“Father, Father!” sobbed Alice on her knees, +“thou hast been very gracious to thy poor, weak, sinful +child. And thou knowest I would not murmur. +Righteous art thou in all thy ways, and holy in all thy +works, <i>yet</i> let me talk with thee of thy judgments. +Wouldst thou but grant me a portion like to <i>hers</i>? +None ever raised such a triumphant song of praise for +life restored as I would do for that death—better and +brighter than any other lot on earth.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Thus she prayed, if these words can be called a prayer. +But she rose uncomforted, because in part at least unsubmissive. +“Happy, happy Helen Stirk!” were the +words on her lips; and in spite of her resolves, perhaps +the contrast her heart drew the while was more than half +a murmur.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But as she lay awake through the long silent hours of +the winter night, other thoughts came to her—visions +of little lonely orphan children, fatherless and motherless, +wandering desolate and uncared for, or tended only +by the unloving hands of strangers. Had such thoughts +saddened the last hours of the martyr-mother? Had +she dreamed, as she pressed that last kiss on the lips of +her babe, that perhaps in after years those lips would +be taught to lisp the “Aves” <i>she</i> died rather than repeat? +Or was it given her to see the untwining of +those tender ties without a pang? Could she part from +all in full unfaltering reliance on his promise who has +<span class='pageno' id='Page_342'>342</span>said, “Leave thy fatherless children, and I will preserve +them alive?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Alison felt very sure that He would make that promise +good. But by and by it occurred to her that he usually +worked by means, and that when he wanted the lambs +of his flock fed and cared for, it was his way to say to +some one, “Feed my lambs.” What if he said it that +hour, even unto her? Why not? There was meal +enough in their “girnels” to feed twenty orphan children, +wool enough in their stores to clothe them, and +little danger that her liberal and kind-hearted father +would object to any use she pleased to make of either. +Every detail of her plan was soon settled. It was +simple, natural, easy; requiring no romantic effort, no +heroic sacrifice; only some forethought, and a little +daily self-denial. She felt it would be so sweet to do +this work of love for her martyred sister, and for Him +for whom she gave her life. And thus she learned that +it might be as blessed a thing to do as to suffer his will, +to live unto him as to die unto him. For living or +dying, she was his. Her morning prayer began as her +evening prayer should have ended. “Not my will, but +thine be done, O my Father. I see thy will is the best, +and I know now thou carest as tenderly for her thou +leavest here to work and pray, as for her thou calledst +up yonder to rejoice and praise.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>It seemed as if the orphan children that Alison brought +<span class='pageno' id='Page_343'>343</span>from St. Johnstone to her home at Edzell, brought with +them a kind of completion, as well as manifold comfort +and blessing to her own life. Their love—childhood’s +love, so easily won, so freely expressed—was a joy to her +lonely heart; and the task of training them for Christ, an +ever-fresh interest and occupation. And besides, this +work, undertaken directly for her Lord, helped her to +feel that all her other work was for him also. Thus +quietly and peacefully her days glided on, like waters +that fertilize where they flow. No praise she sought +from man, and but little she received; but he that hath +“his eyes like a flame of fire” to search the hidden +things of darkness, would surely have said of her, “I +know thy works, and charity, and service, and faith, and +thy patience, and thy works; and the last to be more +than the first.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>She lived to see the morning of the Reformation—which +had dawned upon Scotland amidst cloud and +storm—settle into the noonday of gospel light and +liberty. Although by that time her dark hair was mixed +with gray, her heart was still fresh and young. A joyful +day it was for her, when being on a visit with George +Stratton, Laird of Lauriston, who both as a youth and a +man was a zealous and consistent friend of the Reformation, +she accompanied him and part of his family to +the house of Erskine of Dune, to hear John Knox +preach the word of God, and to receive the sacrament +<span class='pageno' id='Page_344'>344</span>from his hands. And when a young David Stratton (so +named by the Laird in affectionate remembrance of his +martyred uncle) asked her on their return if she had +been happy, adding significantly, “but I mind <i>you’re</i> +aye happy, Mistress Alison,” she did not contradict him, +but answered simply, “Yes, my bairn; and why should +I not? Loving-kindness and mercy have followed me +all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of +the Lord for ever.”</p> + +<p class='c005'>Nothing more remains to be told. Short and simple, +as it has come down to us, is the true story of David +Stratton; and we have purposely avoided obscuring its +few salient features by any redundancy of ornament. +The Reformation martyrs of Scotland were not numerous, +in comparison with those that suffered in other +countries. But they were in many ways fitting representatives +of their nation, its true “first-fruits” offered up +to God. Every age was there: <span class='sc'>Walter Mill</span>, who had +passed the fourscore years allotted to man, and might +have laid his hoary head in the grave in peace, but that, +as he said, he was “corn and no chaff, and would not be +blown away with the wind nor burst with the flail, but +would abide both;” <span class='sc'>Ninian Kennedy</span>, who had scarcely +reached the age of manhood, but yet had lived long +enough, since he found his Saviour owned him and +died for him. Every rank was there: young <span class='sc'>Patrick +<span class='pageno' id='Page_345'>345</span>Hamilton</span>, with his royal blood and brilliant prospects; +<span class='sc'>Adam Wallace</span>, “in appearance a simple, poor man,” +but deeply taught of God, and moreover, “having read +the Bible and Word of God in three tongues, and understood +them so far as God gave him grace.” In <span class='sc'>George +Wishart</span> profound learning, deep thoughtfulness, and +winning sweetness and nobleness of natural character, +had their representative: <span class='sc'>David Stratton</span>, on the other +hand, was remarkable for none of these—he held the +treasure in an earthen vessel, that the excellency of +the power might be of God.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Yet this very fact imparts peculiar significance to his +history. We are prone to look upon the noble army of +martyrs through the haze of a vague admiration, that +on the one hand magnifies their forms to something +larger than human, but on the other robs their outlines +of individual distinctness. That they were, in the fullest +sense of the word, good men, scarcely any one, even +amongst those who regard the truths for which they +suffered with indifference, will think of denying. But +we have a tendency also to regard them as great men; +the chosen of their age for thoughtfulness, for nobleness, +for all the intellectual and moral qualities by which man +differs from his fellow. No doubt some of them were +such. But as in the Church of Christ itself, so amongst +those “white-robed warriors” who form its honoured +vanguard—all classes, all grades, all types of character +<span class='pageno' id='Page_346'>346</span>are represented. They were men of like passions with +us, and of like temptations, faults, and weaknesses. That +which made them to differ was nothing in or from themselves; +it was the sublime power of that faith of which +the great Head of the Church is himself the Author and +the Finisher, and of that love which his Spirit alone can +shed abroad in the heart of man.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_346.jpg' alt='FINIS' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<hr class='c017'> +<div class='footnote' id='f1'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. Baker.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f2'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r2'>2</a>. Without.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f3'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r3'>3</a>. A doctor.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f4'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r4'>4</a>. That is, cautiously.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f5'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r5'>5</a>. That is, lost.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f6'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r6'>6</a>. That is, endure.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f7'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r7'>7</a>. Increase or diminish.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f8'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r8'>8</a>. As it is intended that the reader should understand that whatever is told of +George Wishart throughout is pure history, a word of explanation, perhaps of +apology, may be necessary here. It does not seem any deviation from the rule +thus laid down, to suppose his doing for the personages of the story what, at this +time, he did for so many. Knox tells us “he spared not to visit thame that lay +in the verray extreamitie; he comforted thame as that he might in such a +multitude; he caused minister all things necessarie to those that might use meat +and drink.” And Emery Tilney, who, during the year that he taught at Cambridge, +was his affectionate and admiring pupil, writes of him, “His charity had +never an end, night, noon, nor day;” and again, “If I should declare his love +to me and all men, his charity to the poor, in giving, relieving, caring, helping, +providing, yea, infinitely studying how to do good to all and hurt to none, I +should sooner want words than just cause to commend him.”</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f9'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r9'>9</a>. Eyes.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f10'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r10'>10</a>. Not from affectation, but because it was his custom to wear nothing he might +not suitably give away to the poor. In order to supply their necessities, he seems +to have habitually practised the most rigid self-denial. “<i>He that is faithful in +that which is least, is faithful also in much.</i>”</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f11'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r11'>11</a>. Knox.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f12'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r12'>12</a>. Outlawed.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f13'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r13'>13</a>. Present, gift.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f14'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r14'>14</a>. Parlour.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f15'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r15'>15</a>. The following is the circumstance alluded to above. During Wishart’s stay +at Montrose, the Cardinal, whom Knox may be excused for calling the “devill’s +awin sone,” again attempted his life. “He caused to write unto him a letter, as +it had been from his most familiar friend, the Laird of Kinneyre, ‘desiring him +with all possible diligence to come unto him, for he was stricken with a sudden +sickness.’ In the meantime had the traitor provided three score men, with +jacks and spears, to lie in wait within a mile and a half of the town of Montrose, +for his despatch. The letter coming to his hand, he made haste at the first (for +the boy had brought a horse); and so, with some honest men, he passes forth of +the town. But suddenly he stayed, and musing a space, returned back; whereat +they wondering, he said, ‘I will not go; I am forbidden of God. I am assured +there is treason. Let some of you go to yonder place, and tell me what ye +find.’ Diligence made, they found the treason as it was; which being shown +with expedition to Maister George, he answered, ‘I know that I shall end my +life in the hands of that blood-thirsty man; but it will not be of this manner.’”—<span class='sc'>Knox.</span></p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f16'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r16'>16</a>. In connection with this narrative, there naturally recurs to the mind the +suggestive remark of Pascal upon “the qualities of a perfectly heroic soul:” +“Capable of fear before the necessity to die is actually present, then altogether +fearless.... Troubled when he troubles himself; when other men trouble him +altogether strong.”</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f17'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r17'>17</a>. The Earl of Bothwell, “made for money bucheour to the Cardinall,” was at +this time High Sheriff of Haddington.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f18'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r18'>18</a>. The Queen Mother, Mary of Guise.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f19'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r19'>19</a>. This dungeon may still be seen, and is thus described by one who has +recently visited it: “It is in shape like a champagne bottle, the neck or narrow +part might be nine feet deep, and the whole depth twenty-four feet. It is six feet +wide at the top, but widens into about eighteen below. Prisoners were let down +into it by means of a chain, which was fastened to an iron bar placed across the +mouth of it. There are no doors or windows.”</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f20'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r20'>20</a>. That is, building.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f21'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r21'>21</a>. By and by.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f22'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r22'>22</a>. Servant.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f23'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r23'>23</a>. That is, executioner.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f24'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r24'>24</a>. Nor was this, as it is well known, the only instance in which Wishart was +believed by his contemporaries to have spoken under the influence of prophetic +inspiration. John Knox says (and his testimony is remarkable as that of one who +had an intimate personal acquaintance with him): “He was not only singularly +learned, as well in godly knowledge as in all honest human science, but also he +was so clearly illumined with the spirit of prophecy, that he saw not only things +pertaining to himself, but also such things as some towns and the whole realm +afterwards felt, which he forspake not in secret, but in the audience of many.” +But may not the instances of this strange foresight which Knox adduces be resolved +into the results of deep thoughtfulness, intense prayerfulness, and very +close walking with God?</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f25'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r25'>25</a>. Knox, in his “History of his own Times,” quotes from a sermon of Friar +William Arth, in which a poor man is made to say, “Know ye not how the +Bishops and their officials serve us husband men? Will they not give to us a +letter of cursing for a plack, to last for a year, to curse all that look owre our +dyke, and that keeps our corn better than the sleeping boy, that will have three +shillings of fee, a sark, and pair of shoon in the year?”</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f26'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r26'>26</a>. “Gawin Logie, Rector of St. Leonard’s College, was so successful in instilling +them (the Reformed opinions) into the minds of the students, that it became proverbial +to say of any one suspected of Lutheranism, that he had ‘drunk of St. +Leonard’s Well.’”—<cite>M‘Crie’s Life of Knox.</cite></p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f27'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r27'>27</a>. 1527.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f28'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r28'>28</a>. Chamber.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f29'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r29'>29</a>. Tyndale’s New Testament.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f30'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r30'>30</a>. Lose.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f31'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r31'>31</a>. Penalty, fine.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f32'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r32'>32</a>. Trust.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f33'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r33'>33</a>. Horse used in farm work.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f34'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r34'>34</a>. Knox.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f35'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r35'>35</a>. Knox.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f36'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r36'>36</a>. Trying to say.</p> +</div> +<div class='footnote' id='f37'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#r37'>37</a>. Pascal.</p> +</div> +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c003'> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div><span class='xlarge'><span class='blackletter'>T. 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By the Rev. <span class='sc'>Robert +Hunter</span>, A.M., formerly Missionary at Nagpore in Central India. +Foolscap 8vo, cloth. Price 1s. 6d.</p> + +<p class='c021'>SCENES OF TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE IN FOREIGN LANDS—(SOUTH AMERICA).</p> + +<p class='c022'>By B. B. Illustrated. Foolscap 8vo. Price 2s. 6d.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c002'> + <div><span class='large'>BY THE LATE REV. JAMES SMITH, CHELTENHAM.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c021'>THE BELIEVER’S TRIUMPH;</p> + +<p class='c022'>Or, No Condemnation in Christ, and no Separation from Christ. +Post 8vo, cloth antique. Price 3s. 6d.</p> + +<p class='c021'>THE PLEADING SAVIOUR;</p> + +<p class='c022'>Or, The Wondrous Love of Christ as Displayed in his Intercessory +Prayer. 18mo, cloth. Price 1s. 6d.</p> + +<p class='c021'>DAILY BIBLE READINGS FOR THE LORD’S HOUSEHOLD.</p> + +<p class='c022'>Imperial 32mo, cloth, gilt edges, price 2s.; morocco plain, 3s. 6d.</p> + +<p class='c021'>GREEN PASTURES;</p> + +<p class='c022'>Or, Daily Food for the Lord’s Flock. 32mo. Price—cloth, gilt +edges, 1s.; calf limp, 1s. 6d.; morocco plain, 2s.</p> + +<p class='c021'>STILL WATERS;</p> + +<p class='c022'>Or, Refreshment for the Lord’s Flock at Eventide. 32mo. Price +cloth, gilt edges, 1s.; calf limp, 1s. 6d.; morocco plain, 2s.</p> + +<p class='c021'>BRIEF PORTIONS FOR DAILY USE.</p> + +<p class='c022'>64mo, cloth limp. Price 6d.; calf limp, 1s.</p> + +<p class='c021'>SHORT READINGS FOR DAILY USE.</p> + +<p class='c022'>64mo, cloth limp, price 6d.; calf limp, 1s.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c002'> + <div>The following in 18mo, Large Type, Paper Cover, Price 4d.; Cloth Extra, Price 6d.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c022'>THE BETTER LAND. A Book for +the Aged.</p> + +<p class='c022'>WELCOME TO JESUS.</p> + +<p class='c022'>OUR HEAVENLY FATHER.</p> + +<p class='c022'>SACRAMENTAL MEDITATIONS.</p> + +<p class='c022'>CHRIST ALONE.</p> + +<p class='c022'>THE GREAT COMFORTER.</p> + +<p class='c022'>IMPORTANT QUESTIONS.</p> + +<p class='c022'>MORNING SACRIFICE. Helps to +Devotion.</p> + +<p class='c022'>THE EVENING SACRIFICE.</p> + +<p class='c022'>WORDS OF COMFORT.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c002'> + <div><span class='large'>PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div>Various Editions.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c021'>BUNYAN’S PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.</p> + +<p class='c022'>With Mason’s Notes. Illustrated. Post 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, +price 3s. 6d.; morocco extra or antique, 7s. 6d.</p> + +<p class='c021'>BUNYAN’S PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.</p> + +<p class='c022'>With Mason’s Notes. Foolscap 8vo, with Illustrations Price 1s. 6d.</p> + +<p class='c021'>BUNYAN’S PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.</p> + +<p class='c022'>18mo Edition. Double Columns. Paper Cover, price 6d.; cloth, 1s.</p> + +<p class='c021'>BUNYAN’S PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.</p> + +<p class='c022'>18mo Edition. Thick Paper, with Eight Plates. Cloth. Price 1s. 6d.</p> + +<p class='c021'>BUNYAN’S PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.</p> + +<p class='c022'>32mo Edition. Illustrated. Roan, gilt edges. Price 1s.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div><span class='xlarge'><span class='blackletter'>T. Nelson and Sons’ Publications.</span></span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='large'>ILLUSTRATED THREE AND SIXPENNY BOOKS.</span></div> + <div class='c003'>Gilt Edges and Gilt Sides.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c021'>BRITISH ENTERPRISE BEYOND THE SEAS;</p> + +<p class='c022'>Or, The Planting of Our Colonies. By <span class='sc'>J. H. Fyfe</span>, Author of “The +Triumphs of Invention and Discovery.” Illustrated. Post 8vo., +cloth.</p> + +<p class='c021'>TRIUMPHS OF INVENTION AND DISCOVERY.</p> + +<p class='c022'>By <span class='sc'>J. Hamilton Fyfe</span>. With Illustrations. Post 8vo.</p> + +<p class='c021'>SEA STORIES.</p> + +<p class='c022'>By an Old Sailor. Post 8vo, cloth.</p> + +<p class='c021'>PERILS AND ADVENTURES ON THE DEEP;</p> + +<p class='c022'>Or, Interesting Narratives of Naval Adventure and Suffering. Including +Accounts of the Shipwreck of the Birkenhead—The Tweed—The +Royal Charter—The Anglo-Saxon, &c. Eight Illustrations. +Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges.</p> + +<p class='c021'>ROMANTIC INCIDENTS AND SCENES OF TRAVEL.</p> + +<p class='c022'>By Miss <span class='sc'>C. L. Brightwell</span>, Author of “Byepaths of Biography,” &c. +Post 8vo. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p class='c021'>BYEPATHS OF BIOGRAPHY.</p> + +<p class='c022'>By Miss <span class='sc'>C. L. Brightwell</span>. Author of “Romantic Incidents in the +Lives of Naturalists and Celebrated Travellers.” Post 8vo, cloth.</p> + +<p class='c021'>THE VILLAGE GARLAND.</p> + +<p class='c022'>Tales and Sketches by Mrs. <span class='sc'>S. C. Hall</span>. With Plates. Foolscap +8vo, cloth.</p> + +<p class='c021'>MEMORIALS OF EARLY GENIUS AND ACHIEVEMENTS IN THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE.</p> + +<p class='c022'>With Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth.</p> + +<p class='c021'>STORIES OF BOY GENIUS FROM THE LIVES OF GREAT PAINTERS.</p> + +<p class='c022'>Plates. Foolscap 8vo, cloth.</p> + +<p class='c021'>TRUTH AND LOVE;</p> + +<p class='c022'>Or, School Boys and their Teachers. By the Rev. <span class='sc'>J. W. Alexander</span>. +Foolscap 8vo, cloth.</p> + +<p class='c021'>PATIENCE TO WORK AND PATIENCE TO WAIT.</p> + +<p class='c022'>By Miss <span class='sc'>Marion E. Weir</span>. Foolscap 8vo, cloth.</p> + +<p class='c021'>THE ENGLISH BOY IN JAPAN;</p> + +<p class='c022'>Or, The Perils and Adventures of Mark Raffles among Princes, +Priests, and People of that Singular Empire. By <span class='sc'>William Dalton</span>. +Foolscap 8vo, cloth.</p> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c003'> +</div> +<div class='tnotes x-ebookmaker'> + +<div class='ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c1'> +<div class='nf-center c012'> + <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + + <ul class='ul_1 c002'> + <li>Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + + </li> + <li>Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last chapter. + </li> + </ul> + +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77324 ***</div> + </body> + <!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57e (with regex) on 2025-11-24 15:48:53 GMT --> +</html> diff --git a/77324-h/images/cover.jpg b/77324-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..46443f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/77324-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/77324-h/images/di_005.jpg b/77324-h/images/di_005.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..99c228e --- 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