CHAPTER XI.UP IN ARMS.Twelve o'clock was the usual dinner hour at Hartrigge. In spite of the stirring excitement of that morning, the table was spread punctually at noon, and the family gathered about the board. Before, however, Andrew Gray had finished asking a blessing on the food, the dragoons swept up with a great noise to the front door. Catching sight of a gleaming sword out of the window Jeanie screamed in affright, and her mother's face visibly paled. But little Sandy, in all a child's delight over a gay pageant, scrambled up on the window seat, and fairly jumped with glee at sight of so many prancing steeds. With grave, resolute, undisturbed face, Hartrigge rose from his chair, and turned his eyes upon his trembling wife."If I lose my life this day, Susan," he said, quietly, "promise me you will rear the bairns in the true religion, and teach them to love and reverence the Church of Scotland and the faith of their forefathers."Mistress Gray had no opportunity to reply, for at that moment the door was rudely thrown open, and Turner, with a corporal and sergeant, strode into the room."Andrew Gray of Hartrigge?" he said, briefly and imperiously."I am Andrew Gray," answered Hartrigge, with corresponding brevity."A vile Whig and a bigoted Presbyterian, a rebel against the king, and a harbourer of field preachers and like vermin," continued Turner, in his coarse fashion. "I have just come from Rowallan, but the puling womenfolk there have lost their tongues, and could tell us nothing of those we seek. In the king's name, Andrew Gray, I command you to instantly tell me where your canting old father, and your brother, the minister of Broomhill, are to be found. Remember you stand at peril of your life."Andrew Gray folded his arms across his chest, and looked his questioner in the face with undaunted eye."Very well do I know that I stand at peril of my life," he made answer, calmly. "But I can tell you nothing of those you seek.""You will not, you mean," cried Turner, passionately. "By heavens, the name of Gray seems inseparable from dogged obstinacy, as well as from rebellion and treason. If I tie up your eyes and point a pistol at your mouth it may refresh your memory."Hartrigge spoke never a word; his wife sank weeping helplessly into a chair, while the children, all but Gavin, who had left the room, crouched beside her in terror."Woman, bid your husband obey orders, unless you want me to leave him to you to bury!" said Turner. "I have already wasted too much precious time among your kind."But never a word spoke Mistress Gray. Then Turner looked towards his subordinates--"Bind the obstinate pig-headed Whig," he said, briefly. "If I cannot make him speak, we will take him to those who will."Susan Gray uttered a loud shriek, and sprang to her husband's side; but she was rudely cast aside, while the officers pinioned Hartrigge's arms."Stop that howling, woman, or I will give you something to yelp about! I've a mind to burn your house about your confounded ears, but it would take too much time to-day. Let the prisoner to horse, and let us be off. We have other game to bag before sunset to-day."As Andrew Gray was about to leave the room he stepped to his wife's side, and hastily bade her be of good cheer, for his time had not come yet; then, looking upon the children with a strange softening in his stern eyes, he waved them an affectionate farewell.With the little ones clinging to her skirts, Mistress Gray followed the oppressors to the door, and stood watching while they bound her husband on a steed. He again turned his face towards her, and exhorted her to be of good cheer, and keep a firm hold upon her faith in God, until they should meet again. His words were brought to a sudden close by a blow upon the mouth, administered by the corporal, who was fastening him securely to the back of the horse. At sight of the blood, Susan Gray covered her face with her hands, and was afraid to look again. Ere he mounted his horse, Turner peremptorily ordered Mrs. Gray to bring him a tankard of ale, or a cup of wine, a command of which she was too much agitated to take notice. Little Jeanie, however, fearing a new exhibition of the terrible man's wrath, with womanly thoughtfulness ran into the house, and brought out a draught for the general. He smiled grimly as he took it from the slim hands of the little maiden, and having quaffed it, bade her not follow the example of her renegade father; and, mounting his horse, gave the order to march, and the troops, with their prisoner in the midst, rode away from Hartrigge. Just then the lad Gavin came through the kitchen with a flushed eager face, and bearing in his hands an old fowling-piece, chiefly used for scaring rooks and other vermin off the crops.[image]"Little Jeanie ... brought out a draught for the general""Why, Gavin, laddie, what did ye think to do?" asked his mother, with a mournful smile."Are they away, mother? If they had killed my father I would have shot Turner with this. I have been down at the tool house, loading it with some lead I got in my uncle Peter's shop, at Lanark, when I was there with Uncle Adam," replied the lad, fearlessly."Then they would have surely killed you, too, my son," replied the mother, shaking her head; though inwardly admiring the spirit of the boy. "Well, well, Gavin, you will need to take care o' us all now that your poor father is away.""Mother, what do you think they'll do to him?""My son, how can I tell? But I dinna feel as if any great harm would come to him, for he says his time is not come yet," replied Mistress Gray. "I think the Lord in His mercy will restore him ere long to his wife and bairns. But now, Gavin, get away by the fields to Rowallan, and see whether all be well there."Just at that moment, however, a messenger on horseback appeared at the door, conveying the terrible tidings from Rowallan, and bidding Hartrigge and his wife come over at once. Susan Gray, dumb with horror, sat helplessly down, and wrung her hands in despair. Not having heard the right way of the story, her hopes concerning her husband's comparative safety swiftly ebbed away, for since they spared not a defenceless and delicate woman, how could they allow such as Andrew Gray to escape unhurt? So desolation and woe fell upon the houses of Rowallan and Hartrigge, and it appeared as if the Lord had deserted them, and removed the light of His countenance from His servants.Meanwhile the regiment had halted on the public road, and after a brief consultation, a portion, under command of Captain Blane, was sent back to Inverburn, where they were to remain for several days, keeping a sharp look-out for the fugitives. They were also empowered to compel all upon whom they could lay hands to attend upon the ministrations of the curate the following Sabbath day. The main body of the troops, with Sir James at their head, then turned southwards, to scour the hill country betwixt Douglasdale and Nithsdale, Turner being anxious to reach his home in Dumfries, from which he had been absent for a considerable space.In due course they arrived at Dumfries, where Andrew Gray was kept a close prisoner, prior to being sent or taken by Turner before the Commissioner at Edinburgh.It would have been a swifter and surer plan to have conveyed the prisoner direct to Edinburgh from Inverburn, but Turner expected to lay hands upon some other marked offenders in the southern districts, and to send them in a body under guard to the Commissioners. However, he was unsuccessful, and arrived in Dumfries with his one prisoner, whose only offence was in harbouring field preachers and attending the open-air services.While Turner rested himself at home, his dragoons were not allowed to be idle, but were despatched in detachments to the various villages and hamlets, to keep the inhabitants faithful in their attendance on the curates, and to extract fines from those who refused, the latter being a very congenial task to the greedy and brutal soldiery.One cold, bleak morning, when a party of soldiers were maltreating an old man in the village of Dairy, in Kirkcudbrightshire, four of these very wanderers, whom Turner had been seeking, arrived in desperation, seeking shelter and food, and being indignant at the dragoons' behaviour they set upon them, and compelled them to release the old man and give up their arms. Encouraged by their success, they were joined by several villagers, and surprised and overcame another party of dragoons, engaged extracting fines by violence, some little distance away. Further emboldened they marched into Dumfries, took Turner prisoner in his own house, set Andrew Gray at liberty, and constituted themselves into a small army. Thus took place the first rising against the Government, for which Andrew Gray, and many like him, had so ardently longed. With their unwilling prisoner they proceeded northwards, and were joined on the way by others, both on horse and foot. Captain Wallace was chosen as their leader, and by his side rode Andrew Gray, for he was certainly one of the boldest and most resolute among them. Travelling the same route as Turner had come, they entered Inverburn on a Sabbath morning just as service was about to begin. Entering the church, they ejected the curate, but did not take him prisoner, he being beneath their contempt; then they shut the church doors, tore up the book of service in the churchyard, the gates of which they then locked, and proceeded to the village, singing a psalm as they went. At Mistress Lyall's a halt was made for rest and refreshment, and then Andrew Gray rode off rapidly to Hartrigge, to assure his wife of his safety, and tell her their resolve, which was to proceed to Edinburgh, expecting to increase in numbers as they went.Space will not allow me to dwell long upon the happy meeting at Hartrigge, when the husband and father was so unexpectedly restored to his home. But upon hearing that he was again going forth, Mistress Gray ominously shook her head."I'm for peace, Andrew," she said, in a low voice, "an' what's a handful of country folk against the soldiers of the king? Ye'll be slain in cauld blood. Better, far better, bide at hame."Hartrigge only smiled in a lofty and superior manner at the weakness of the woman, and then inquired concerning the fugitives as well as the folk at Rowallan."Grandfather and David are safe enough, but waes me for Rowallan and it's bonnie sweet mistress!" said Susan Gray, with fast filling eyes. "Of course ye canna have heard that Agnes is awa' frae a' the terrors o' these troublous times, and that Adam Hepburn sits a widower by his desolate hearth."Andrew Gray gave a violent start. It was indeed news to him. Then, with many tears, his wife related the sad story to him, which he heard in absolute silence."An' yet ye would still say, Peace, peace! Oh! Susan, woman, I fear ye are a coward at heart!" he said, sternly. "I will to Rowallan; surely Adam Hepburn will be determined to avenge his wife's death.""Sure enough. He has made his vow, a terrible vow before God, Jane tells me," said his wife. "And when will ye be back to your home again, think you, Andrew?""Ah, that I cannot tell. Be of good cheer, Susan, and look well after the house and the bairns. The God of Hosts will preserve me, so long as He sees it to be His good pleasure. So again farewell."So saying, Hartrigge again bade farewell to his own home, and turned his horse's head towards Rowallan.Near to the place he saw a figure in the distance, somewhat resembling his brother-in-law, and yet the face seemed greatly changed. When he came nearer, and the figure, recognising him, advanced to meet him, he almost started at the terrible change upon his sister's widowed husband. He had not shaved nor trimmed his beard since his wife's death, and his whole aspect was that of a man whose interest in life was dead. His face was haggard and worn, his eye restless and yearning as if looking ever in vain for some beloved object, his appearance sad and miserable in the extreme."You have managed to escape, Andrew," he said, quite quietly, and without evincing either surprise or pleasure."Yes, and the Presbyterians are in arms at last; I have travelled with the company from Dumfries, increasing as we came, and there is now an army of nineteen hundred under Captain Wallace's command, lying in the village of Inverburn," responded Hartrigge, slowly. "Our destination is Edinburgh. If you still wish to avenge the murder of your angel wife, now is your time, Adam Hepburn."Adam Hepburn drew himself up, and the light of a passion terrible to see sprang into his glittering eye. He clenched his right hand, and raised it to heaven."Now, O Almighty God, for the fulfilling of my vow," he said, solemnly; then, turning to Hartrigge, briefly announced his willingness and immediate readiness to accompany him. They returned first to inform Jane Gray of their intention; bade her either go to Hartrigge or get young Gavin to abide with her awhile, and not having time to seek the ministers in their shelter, they returned hastily to Inverburn. But Jane Gray immediately proceeded to the hiding-place, and informed her father and brother of the rising of the Covenanters. Then David Gray's eye kindled, and the whole expression of his countenance indicated his desire to go forth with his brethren in defence of the Covenant. Seeing that, the old man blessed him, and bade him go. So David Gray stole by the field paths to the village, and joined the army just as it was setting forth upon its adventurous march.CHAPTER XII.RULLION GREEN.Late on the Sabbath evening the Covenanters reached Lanark, where they were well received by the sympathising inhabitants, who made haste to give them food, and offer them shelter for the night. Early on the following day the army assembled in the High Street, preparatory to setting out on their march to Edinburgh. At request of the leaders, the minister of Broomhill ascended the stairs of the Tolbooth, and conducted a religious service, in which the army and the townsfolk took part. After sermon, the Covenant was read, and also a declaration to the effect that it was simply in defence of their liberties that the Presbyterians had taken arms. Then, amid much enthusiasm, and many fervent God-speeds, the little army turned their faces towards the Lothians. It was now the dead of winter, and the weather was dreary and bitterly cold, being alternated by heavy rain storms and blasts of snow. The roads were in a wretched condition, and as the army endeavoured to march straight as the crow flies, they were led through many deep morasses, and had to cross many a swollen and turbid stream, as well as over bleak and exposed hills, where they received the full force of the blast.To their disappointment and sorrow, they found the folk in the east not so enthusiastic and sympathising as their more impulsive neighbours in the west. In some villages they were received very coldly, and candidly told they were silly fanatics, and as they approached Edinburgh it seemed as if the influences of the Privy Council had extended far beyond the city boundaries, for the people looked yet more askance at the draggled and wayworn Covenanters, and even refused in some instances to relieve their wants. It was to be expected that such receptions would considerably damp the ardour of many, and as they marched, their number visibly decreased. Some stole away under cover of the night, to make what haste they could back to the comparative safety of their homes, and others less cowardly openly avowed their discontent and disappointment, and deserted their brethren in the broad light of day. But the dauntless and resolute spirit of such as Wallace, their leader, Gray of Hartrigge, and the minister of Broomhill, seemed to be only further strengthened and deepened by these reverses, and cheering the little company on, they bravely continued their march until they came within a few miles of Edinburgh. A halt was then made, and two horsemen despatched to ascertain the disposition of the citizens towards them.It was yet early in the day when these horsemen returned, with grave countenances and downcast air, telling that they had met with but little cheer. Wallace and Hartrigge hastily rode forward to meet them, and were informed that the city was hostile towards them, the gates being closed, and guns mounted on the walls to resist their entrance.In some doubt as to the next step to be taken, they rode back to the camp, and a grave consultation was held."I am for going on, and forcing an entrance into the city," said Hartrigge, dauntlessly. "It is like playing at warfare to retreat before closed gates and a few guns."But others, whose discretion was not blinded by zeal, shook their heads, and said it were best to return quietly, and with as much speed as possible, to their homes.Adam Hepburn took no part in the discussion, but it was easy to see that his soul yearned to shed blood. A look of deep disappointment came upon his haggard face when the majority decided in favour of retreat.Not being in the slightest degree apprehensive of pursuit by the Government troops, they proceeded leisurely round the eastern slopes of the Pentland hills to the southern side, to begin their march homewards. The day was now closing in; the feeble wintry sun had sunk behind a bank of ominous cloud on the western horizon, and the grey bleak shadows of the night were darkening down. The north wind swept mournfully round the desolate mountain sides, sometimes raising its voice to a wail, as some sharp peak or projecting rock impeded its course.But suddenly another sound much more ominous than the moaning wind broke upon the startled ears of the faithful band, and to their astonishment they saw what appeared to be a great army pressing rapidly on their rear. Hurriedly the Covenanters set themselves in the order of battle. It was what many among them longed for, and yet unless the God of battles held over them the banner of His defence, and aided them to discomfit their foes, what chance had they, weary, wayworn, with strength far spent by exposure and lack of food, against the dragoons, fresh from the drill and comfortable training of the barracks?The minister of Broomhill led in fervent prayer, craving victory for the Covenant from the King of Heaven. Then they stood erect, calm, and steadfast, waiting the onslaught of the enemy. The face of Andrew Gray of Hartrigge glowed with the deep enthusiasm of religious zeal, but that of his brother-in-law, Adam Hepburn, was dark with the furious passion of revenge. His eye glittered, his hand trembled as it grasped his father's sword, and in that breathless instant his vow was repeated that the blade should not return to its sheath until it had sucked the life-blood of more than one dragoon.Like the rush of a mighty wind Dalziel's cavalry came sweeping down upon the right wing of the insurgents' army, which was protected by a party of horse. They were manfully received, and after a vigorous struggle, completely repulsed. The general was amazed at the fighting power of the rebels, whom he had contemptuously imagined to be a gathering of raw country folk, who would turn tail at the first attack of practised soldiery. He hastily organised and led a second attack, which was met and repulsed as before, with considerable loss. Had the insurgents possessed a reserve of cavalry, victory had assuredly been theirs, in spite of the odds against them, but these repeated attacks had slain many of their horse, and those on foot were unequal to a lengthened struggle.Wildly the din of battle roared in the mountain solitudes, and swiftly, as if in pity, the shadows of the night crept over the bleak hill tops, and up the sombre valleys, until it wrapped conquerors and conquered in its kindly folds. The Covenanters were completely routed, and had the night not speedily fallen, they must have been totally cut to pieces. As it was, fifty of their number lay dead upon the field, besides many wounded, whom they had to leave to their fate. There were also more than a hundred taken prisoners, who envied the untroubled sleep of those who had fallen in the fray. Adam Hepburn, although fighting in the very hottest forefront of the battle, marvellously escaped unhurt.Dalziel had kept an eye upon him, for he was the most desperate fighter, as well as the surest marksman among the insurgents. He never missed his aim. Twice Dalziel ordered a subordinate to engage him in single combat, or shoot him down from a distance; but the man seemed to bear a charmed life. When the fray was over, Dalziel examined the faces of the prisoners minutely, hoping to find Hepburn among them, but was disappointed. Fleeing among the very last of his brethren from the field, Adam Hepburn came up with his brother-in-law, the minister of Broomhill, whom he recognised in the darkness by his ministerial garb."Is that you, David, safe and sound?" he asked, breathlessly."Yes! how is it with you, Adam Hepburn?" asked the minister, anxiously."All well; I have found my first taste of warfare very sweet this day, David Gray.""You fought valiantly, Adam, so much so that I was amazed. How did you escape, being ever, as you were, in the thickest of the fray?""I know not; I had no thought of anything but cutting down the enemy and of avenging the blood of my murdered Agnes," said Adam Hepburn, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.The minister sighed. The blessing of God could not rest upon warfare conducted under such a revengeful spirit, and yet he could scarcely blame the man for the bitterness of his wrath."I would much rather that you fought for the Covenant than for revenge, Adam," he said, sadly. "Will it restore to you your beloved? Nay; think for a moment, is the spirit you are cherishing one which her gentle heart would have blessed and approved?""You speak as a minister, not as a man, David," said Adam Hepburn, fiercely. "Had your wife been murdered in cold blood, as mine was, think you your soul would not thirst for revenge?""Your wife died loving you; you have the comforting assurance that her heart was knit to yours in the bonds of no ordinary affection, and that you will meet in glory," said the minister. "My case is sadder than yours, for my wife, while yet alive, has proved herself dead to me."Adam Hepburn, though silenced, was not convinced."Have you seen Andrew?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject."No; I have been anxiously looking out for him, for I saw him wounded in the shoulder. I trust he has not fallen into the hands of the enemy.""I think not. His horse was spared, and I fancied I saw him ride off the field. Well, our first battle is not such as to encourage our hearts, David," said Adam, with a grim smile."No; there will be weeping and desolation in many a home over Rullion Green," the minister answered, sadly. "I saw brave John Neilson of Corsac laid hands upon by the enemy and taken prisoner.""Ay, and many others, whom God defend and deliver, since no human being can," said Adam. "But hark! what is that?"The rapid sound of hoofs warned them of the approach either of some flying fugitive or a pursuing enemy, and they hastily crept in among some whin bushes, and held their breath until they should be past. To their great joy, however, it proved to be a couple of their brethren, who had been the last to leave the field of battle. Mutual congratulations were exchanged, and then one of the horsemen, a stout yeoman from the upper part of Nithsdale, urged the minister of Broomhill to take his steed, since his slender frame and not too robust constitution rendered him less fit for a long and toilsome march by foot. David Gray yielded to these entreaties and thankfully mounted the animal, for his strength was already far spent. They then separated, the two horsemen riding forward, as before, and Adam Hepburn and the Nithsdale yeoman, by name Matthew Riddell, following more slowly on foot. It was not safe for more than two to be together, on account of the pursuing and watching dragoons, whom they would be certain to encounter on the way. Thus the broken up and scattered army, who but a few days before had set out from Lanark with high hope beating in their breasts, returned to their homes.Arrived in the parish of Inverburn, David Gray left his horse at the house of a friendly farmer outside of the village, and lest the dragoons should lay hands upon him, he crept up the valley to Hartrigge, and was the first to carry tidings of Rullion Green to Andrew Gray's wife. He found her about her usual tasks, for though her heart was heavy with foreboding fears, Susan Gray continued mindful of her husband's last words, to look well to her household, and put her trust in God. At sight of the minister, who was wofully weather-beaten and wayworn, she at once guessed that some evil had befallen the little army, of which her husband had been one of the chief supporters."Oh, David! I like not the way in which you have come back!" she said, in sad and anxious tones. "But have you not brought Andrew with you?"The minister shook his head."Dalziel with his army fell upon us in the Pentland hills, Susan, and swept away our little band like chaff before the wind. Many lie dead upon the field of Rullion Green; Adam Hepburn and I escaped unhurt. Andrew was slightly wounded, but Adam assured me he saw him ride safely off the field. I doubt not the Lord will bring him in safety to his home. But he will need to travel slowly, and with extreme caution, for the entire route between Edinburgh and Lanark is infested with dragoons."Susan Gray sank into a chair and burst into tears."I warned Andrew that peace was aye better than war, and said that an army like yours could have no chance before the king's soldiers," she said mournfully. "I wonder at you, David, a minister of the Gospel, encouraging them to shed blood.""I believed that the time had come when resistance was demanded of us by the God of the Covenant, else I had not gone forth with them, Susan," answered the minister. "But now I must away to my hiding, for it is as much as my life is worth to be seen here in the light of day. How is it with my father, and poor Jane, left desolate in the house of Rowallan?""Your father is keeping well, and is safe in his hiding yet. Gavin is with his aunt, they were both here yester'een," answered Mistress Gray. "The maids have all run away in terror from Rowallan, and Jane came to tell me she had hired one who came seeking a place two days ago. She has been in the service of the laird, but was dismissed for some offence. Gavin says he likes not her appearance, but Jane seems pleased with her, for she is a good worker, and a prudent person, who is never heard about the place.""Ah, well, the master himself, I hope and trust, will be home to his own house in a day or two, and yet, he will need to keep himself in hiding, for very sure am I, Susan, that after the valiant front he showed at Rullion Green, and the many dragoons he caused to lick the dust, Adam Hepburn will be a marked man henceforth."Susan Gray very mournfully shook her head."Had ye all bidden peaceably at home, there had been none of this," she said, regretfully. "But men folk maun aye have their way."The minister smiled; then bidding her and the little ones farewell, he stole away down the glen, and along the bank of the stream, to the hole in the Corbie's Cliff.Looking carefully round to see that none was in sight, he scrambled up the rocky steep, brushed aside the overhanging branches, and plunged into the darkness of the subterraneous passage. Being now very familiar with the way, he had no difficulty in following the many peculiar windings of the passage, and at length he caught sight of the dim reflection of a lighted lamp in the distance, which warned him that he was nearing his father's shelter.Lest his sudden appearance in the cave should alarm the old man, he called out "Father!" several times, as he quickly approached, and at the sound of the familiar voice, the old man sprang hastily to his feet, and ran to the mouth of the passage."My son, David! praise the Lord!" he exclaimed, while tears of joy coursed down his withered cheeks.After the first glad greetings were over, David Gray sat down, and briefly rehearsed all that had befallen him since he set out with the Covenanting army for Edinburgh. As was natural, the recital greatly saddened the heart of his aged father, for he had solaced himself in his solitary captivity with glowing visions of the success which would attend his brethren in arms, and of the happy results which might accrue from their vigorous upstanding for the truth."It is the Lord's will. Unless of His good pleasure, such things could not be," he said. "The Church requires yet further refining in the fire ere she can be purged from all her iniquities, and can stand with clean hands before her God. But now, my son, you are weary, and stand in much need of rest and refreshment. Both are here."The cave was indeed now a very comfortable place of abode. By degrees Jane Gray had conveyed many little comforts to her father, among the greatest of which was the lamp, and a store of books. Provisions in plenty were also at hand, and the minister of Broomhill partook of his repast with a keen relish, for he had not broken his fast for many hours. Immediately thereafter he stretched himself on the bed, and soon all his troubles were forgotten in the heavy, dreamless sleep of utter exhaustion.CHAPTER XIII.THE NEW MAID."What are you doing in the barn at this hour of the day, Martha Miller? Putting off your time loitering about, and all the milk pans standing in the dairy wanting to be scalded. Get about your work without more ado!"It was Jane Gray who spoke, and her voice and manner were both unusually sharp. Ordinarily, even when reproving, she spoke in a tone of habitual gentleness, holding it unbecoming for a gentlewoman to exhibit any violence of temper. It was not that she was particularly annoyed at the woman putting off her time, for indeed there was nothing pushing in the house of Rowallan now, but this was the second time she had caught her in the barn, when she had no call to be there, and her suspicions were roused lest she should be trying to discover, or had already discovered, the secret of the chaff hole.Martha Miller was the new maid, and in appearance a comely, pleasant-looking person, about whom there was nothing suggestive of treachery or double-dealing. She looked straight into the face of her mistress, and dropped an apologetic curtsey."I beg pardon, Miss Gray; I was seeking a bite for the hens. I canna get peace about the doors for them," she answered, glibly, and at the same time pointing to the feathered flock, gathered expectantly round the barn door."That is just nonsense, Martha Miller. If you run for a bite to them every time they gather at your heels, you'll have your work," retorted Miss Gray, still sharply. "And, you know, I feed them myself every morning; and that they need, and get no more till bedtime.""I didna' ken, bein' a hoose-servant, ma'am," answered Martha, with apparent humility. "I'll no' dae it again."Afraid lest, in her turn, she should arouse the suspicions of the maid, Jane Gray did not then enter the barn, but returned to her household duties. In the afternoon, however, when she went for the customary feed of com for the poultry, she hastily looked into the chaff-hole to see if there were any signs of it having been disturbed. But no; the chaff was scattered over the floor, there was no mark of either hand or foot, and the trap-door had evidently not been disturbed.Considerably relieved, and somewhat blaming herself for her suspicions of the maid, Jane Gray went back to the house; and yet a vague, inexplicable distrust of Martha Miller continued to oppress her soul She knew her perfectly well. She was the daughter of one of the foresters on the estate of Inverburn, and, before the persecutions, had regularly attended the church with her parents. Jane had not attached any weight to the fact that she had served for two years in the family of the laird, not imagining that Sir Thomas was so bigoted an Episcopalian as to seek to influence his dependents.She was sitting by her lonely hearth pondering these things in her mind, when there came a low tap at the window. Hastily rising, she peered out, and, with great joy, beheld the face of her brother-in-law, Adam Hepburn."Is all safe? Can I come in?""All is safe. Inverburn has been quiet for days, and there is not a soldier in the district," she whispered back. "Better go round and enter boldly by the kitchen door, as a master should; it will better impress Martha Miller, the new maid, whom I would not should think we had anything to hide."Adam Hepburn nodded, walked round about to the barn-yard, where he was joyfully greeted by his faithful collie, and, opening the kitchen door, stalked in. Martha Miller was knitting a stocking by the kitchen hearth, and looked round in no little amazement at sight of the master of Rowallan, whom she knew very well by sight."Well, Martha, so you have come to serve at Rowallan," he said, pleasantly. "I heard of it in my absence. I hope we will get on as master and servant. Is your father well?""Yes, sir, thank ye," answered Martha, considerably confused by Adam Hepburn's easy manner, and his evident familiarity with all that had transpired during his absence."Get on the pot and make me a basin of milk porridge, Martha. I have had a long journey, and am very hungry," he said, quietly, and then joined his sister-in-law in the adjoining room, the door of which he carefully closed.As Jane Gray was already fully acquainted with the details of Rullion Green, it was not necessary for Adam Hepburn to say anything concerning it, but he had to tell her the story of his own journey home, which had been marked by many perilous vicissitudes and marvellous escapes out of the hands of the enemy. Matthew Riddell, the yeoman, with whom he had travelled, had been laid hands on near Biggar, his own incautiousness and haste to get home having induced him to continue his journey by day, instead of hiding till the friendly darkness fell."Is Hartrigge home yet?" Adam asked, suddenly breaking in upon his own narrative."No; we were in hopes that you would come together. Susan, poor soul, is in a very anxious frame of mind," answered Jane.Adam Hepburn looked grave indeed."Then I fear he has either been captured or succumbed to his wound. In no other way can I account for his protracted absence. It may be, however, that he is sheltering, for his health's sake, in some friendly household. We will hope so. But tell me, Jane, have you been sojourning in this lonely house alone since my departure?""No; Gavin is with me at night. He went home to-day to see his mother, and, knowing I have no fear, may possibly remain till morning. Adam, do you think it will be safe for you to remain quite publicly at your own house? David seemed to think you would be marked.""Marked or not, I shall not go into hiding, Jane," he said, quietly. "I have but to slay a few more of these miscreants, and then what is life worth to me?""Hush! Adam; the Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away. Save of His will, Agnes could not have died," she said, gently. "The thought that she is safe in our Father's house should be a great comfort to you, as it is to me, for, amid the terrors and anxieties of these days, she suffered a perpetual martyrdom."Adam Hepburn rose and restlessly paced to and fro the room, his face betraying the many conflicting emotions which surged in his soul. His cruel and ruthless bereavement had shaken his faith to the very foundations, and he could well-nigh have exclaimed with the fool, "There is no God." "Other men have fathers, and mothers, and children, Jane," he said, in quick rebellious tones. "I had only her, and the Almighty knew how dear, how necessary she was to my existence. Wherein had I so grievously sinned that I required such a terrible punishment? Willingly would I have given up houses and lands, cattle and oxen, all,allI have in the world, if onlyshehad been spared.""Dear Adam, we may not question the ways of the Lord," said Jane Gray in a low voice. "I think sometimes it is the things we most set our hearts upon in this evil world that are not good for us to have. There is such a thing as making an idol of a human being, my brother, and you know the command is, 'Thou shalt have no other gods before Me.'"Adam Hepburn remained silent, but was not convinced.Jane Gray looked sorrowfully into his face, deploring the change this blow had wrought, not only upon the outward man, but upon the inner spirit, sweeping away all the sunny-heartedness, the blithe and kindly charity which had ever characterised him, making him so lovable in every way. She could but pray that God, to whom all things are possible, would temper the wind, and show to the stricken and rebellious heart the sweet bow of promise behind the bitter cloud."And how is the curate performing his pastoral duties now?" enquired Adam presently, in a somewhat mocking tone. "Has his eloquence, combined with the more rugged persuasions of the dragoons, induced many more to attend upon his ministrations?""Watty McBean was here the other night, and he told me there was a goodly attendance in the kirk last Sabbath Day, chiefly of those timid and not very steadfast folks, whom fear has moved against their wills," Jane made answer. "I wonder now that Watty did not join with the army; he is a very staunch upholder of the Covenant.""Ay, but he never was a fechter [fighter], as he says," replied Adam, with a slight smile. "Watty is a sly dog. He'll keep himself out of mischief, yet follow the dictates of his own conscience."At that moment Martha Miller knocked at the door, and entered bearing a small server, on which stood her master's evening meal, a steaming basin of milk porridge, and a bowl of new milk beside it.At her entrance Adam Hepburn looked keenly into the woman's face, and when she was gone, he turned to his sister-in-law, and said briefly, "I mistrust the countenance of that woman, Jane. Under what circumstances was she dismissed from the services of the laird?""I did not pursue the subject with her, Adam. She said she could not agree with her neighbours in the kitchen, and that her ladyship had blamed her for the disturbances there," replied Jane Gray. "Knowing her to be a capable worker, I engaged her gladly; for though she might be of a quarrelsome temper, she could not well fall out with herself, and I am not one to bandy words with a serving woman.""Keep an eye on her, Jane, and be careful of your words in her hearing. I misdoubt me very much if she be not a spy sent hither by Sir Thomas Hamilton, who in the zeal of his loyalty to the king will not be slow to forget his honour as a gentleman," said Adam slowly. "I lost faith in the laird from that day he threatened me with danger to your father, if I did not turn out to McLean's preaching."Jane Gray sighed. If foes were to be found in the very household, among those who broke and ate bread at the table, on whom could trust be stayed? Her brother-in-law's words were simply a re-echo of her own doubts and fears, which, however, she kept as yet to herself.After some further conversation they separated for the night, but Adam Hepburn did not close an eye, for, under his own roof-tree, his heart was torn anew by the violence of his sorrow, and ached with intolerable yearning for the "touch of a vanished hand, and the sound of a voice that was still!"On the morrow he went about his duties as usual, superintending the work on the farm, it having been almost at a standstill for many weeks. It was more to keep himself in occupation than out of any interest in the thing, for even the ordinary business of getting and spending had ceased to occupy the minds of men.That afternoon, when Jane Gray went out as usual to feed her poultry, she had occasion to step round to the corn-yard in search of some young chickens which had deserted their usual roost, and which she feared might become the prey of the foxes that frequently paid a visit to Rowallan, and which that very spring had made off with some of the lambs. Her soft shoes made no noise on the turf, therefore she did not alarm two people sheltering behind a stack of straw, and busily engrossed in conversation. She came upon them quite suddenly, and to her astonishment, who should it be but Martha Miller, the maid, and the curate of Inverburn! Both looked considerably confused, and Martha threw her apron over her head, and turned to go."I shall have a word to say to you for this wasting of my time, Martha," her mistress said, pointing towards the house; then turning to the curate, she added, with quiet, yet courteous dignity, "Sir, is it consistent with the gospel you are supposed to preach, to wile a servant-maid away from her household duties almost in the middle of the day, to confer with you in secret like this?"The curate's sallow face flushed under the scathing rebuke which fell so quietly from those calm, proud lips."When I am not permitted to visit members of my flock at their masters' houses, I must perforce see them outside," he answered, with rude boldness, and yet his eyes instinctively sought the ground."Sir, I am not aware that the master of Rowallan has ever forbidden you his house," said Jane Gray, still calmly. "The members of the flock surely are ashamed of their shepherd, for Martha Miller has never ceased to disclaim all connection with your ministrations, and I am made aware to-day, for the first time, that she is on speaking terms with you.""Madam, know you to whom you speak so disrespectfully?" quoth Mr. McLean in wrathful tones. "Know you that it is chiefly owing to my long forbearance with you and yours that the name and the house of Gray have not been totally extinguished?"A slight smile curved for a moment Jane Gray's resolute lips, and the mild scorn it implied made the spirit of the curate chafe within him."Truly grateful are we for your forbearance towards us, Mr. McLean," she answered courteously. "I bid you good afternoon."So saying, Jane Gray turned about and returned to the house. Upon second thoughts, she took no further notice of the occurrence to Martha Miller, deeming it more prudent to let her imagine it of no importance in the eyes of her mistress. Nevertheless, she redoubled her watchfulness, and took care that there was nothing in her actions to arouse the maid's suspicions. Hitherto, when conveying provisions to the dear ones in hiding, Jane Gray had simply been content to lock the barn door from the inside, and shut herself into the chaff-hole, so that none could possibly be witness to her descent into the cave. But now, after conference with her brother-in-law, they agreed that the safest plan would be for him to rise in the middle of the night and take down the food himself.These precautions, however, were taken too late; for already the cunning eyes of Martha Miller had penetrated the secret of the chaff-hole.
CHAPTER XI.
UP IN ARMS.
Twelve o'clock was the usual dinner hour at Hartrigge. In spite of the stirring excitement of that morning, the table was spread punctually at noon, and the family gathered about the board. Before, however, Andrew Gray had finished asking a blessing on the food, the dragoons swept up with a great noise to the front door. Catching sight of a gleaming sword out of the window Jeanie screamed in affright, and her mother's face visibly paled. But little Sandy, in all a child's delight over a gay pageant, scrambled up on the window seat, and fairly jumped with glee at sight of so many prancing steeds. With grave, resolute, undisturbed face, Hartrigge rose from his chair, and turned his eyes upon his trembling wife.
"If I lose my life this day, Susan," he said, quietly, "promise me you will rear the bairns in the true religion, and teach them to love and reverence the Church of Scotland and the faith of their forefathers."
Mistress Gray had no opportunity to reply, for at that moment the door was rudely thrown open, and Turner, with a corporal and sergeant, strode into the room.
"Andrew Gray of Hartrigge?" he said, briefly and imperiously.
"I am Andrew Gray," answered Hartrigge, with corresponding brevity.
"A vile Whig and a bigoted Presbyterian, a rebel against the king, and a harbourer of field preachers and like vermin," continued Turner, in his coarse fashion. "I have just come from Rowallan, but the puling womenfolk there have lost their tongues, and could tell us nothing of those we seek. In the king's name, Andrew Gray, I command you to instantly tell me where your canting old father, and your brother, the minister of Broomhill, are to be found. Remember you stand at peril of your life."
Andrew Gray folded his arms across his chest, and looked his questioner in the face with undaunted eye.
"Very well do I know that I stand at peril of my life," he made answer, calmly. "But I can tell you nothing of those you seek."
"You will not, you mean," cried Turner, passionately. "By heavens, the name of Gray seems inseparable from dogged obstinacy, as well as from rebellion and treason. If I tie up your eyes and point a pistol at your mouth it may refresh your memory."
Hartrigge spoke never a word; his wife sank weeping helplessly into a chair, while the children, all but Gavin, who had left the room, crouched beside her in terror.
"Woman, bid your husband obey orders, unless you want me to leave him to you to bury!" said Turner. "I have already wasted too much precious time among your kind."
But never a word spoke Mistress Gray. Then Turner looked towards his subordinates--
"Bind the obstinate pig-headed Whig," he said, briefly. "If I cannot make him speak, we will take him to those who will."
Susan Gray uttered a loud shriek, and sprang to her husband's side; but she was rudely cast aside, while the officers pinioned Hartrigge's arms.
"Stop that howling, woman, or I will give you something to yelp about! I've a mind to burn your house about your confounded ears, but it would take too much time to-day. Let the prisoner to horse, and let us be off. We have other game to bag before sunset to-day."
As Andrew Gray was about to leave the room he stepped to his wife's side, and hastily bade her be of good cheer, for his time had not come yet; then, looking upon the children with a strange softening in his stern eyes, he waved them an affectionate farewell.
With the little ones clinging to her skirts, Mistress Gray followed the oppressors to the door, and stood watching while they bound her husband on a steed. He again turned his face towards her, and exhorted her to be of good cheer, and keep a firm hold upon her faith in God, until they should meet again. His words were brought to a sudden close by a blow upon the mouth, administered by the corporal, who was fastening him securely to the back of the horse. At sight of the blood, Susan Gray covered her face with her hands, and was afraid to look again. Ere he mounted his horse, Turner peremptorily ordered Mrs. Gray to bring him a tankard of ale, or a cup of wine, a command of which she was too much agitated to take notice. Little Jeanie, however, fearing a new exhibition of the terrible man's wrath, with womanly thoughtfulness ran into the house, and brought out a draught for the general. He smiled grimly as he took it from the slim hands of the little maiden, and having quaffed it, bade her not follow the example of her renegade father; and, mounting his horse, gave the order to march, and the troops, with their prisoner in the midst, rode away from Hartrigge. Just then the lad Gavin came through the kitchen with a flushed eager face, and bearing in his hands an old fowling-piece, chiefly used for scaring rooks and other vermin off the crops.
[image]"Little Jeanie ... brought out a draught for the general"
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"Little Jeanie ... brought out a draught for the general"
"Why, Gavin, laddie, what did ye think to do?" asked his mother, with a mournful smile.
"Are they away, mother? If they had killed my father I would have shot Turner with this. I have been down at the tool house, loading it with some lead I got in my uncle Peter's shop, at Lanark, when I was there with Uncle Adam," replied the lad, fearlessly.
"Then they would have surely killed you, too, my son," replied the mother, shaking her head; though inwardly admiring the spirit of the boy. "Well, well, Gavin, you will need to take care o' us all now that your poor father is away."
"Mother, what do you think they'll do to him?"
"My son, how can I tell? But I dinna feel as if any great harm would come to him, for he says his time is not come yet," replied Mistress Gray. "I think the Lord in His mercy will restore him ere long to his wife and bairns. But now, Gavin, get away by the fields to Rowallan, and see whether all be well there."
Just at that moment, however, a messenger on horseback appeared at the door, conveying the terrible tidings from Rowallan, and bidding Hartrigge and his wife come over at once. Susan Gray, dumb with horror, sat helplessly down, and wrung her hands in despair. Not having heard the right way of the story, her hopes concerning her husband's comparative safety swiftly ebbed away, for since they spared not a defenceless and delicate woman, how could they allow such as Andrew Gray to escape unhurt? So desolation and woe fell upon the houses of Rowallan and Hartrigge, and it appeared as if the Lord had deserted them, and removed the light of His countenance from His servants.
Meanwhile the regiment had halted on the public road, and after a brief consultation, a portion, under command of Captain Blane, was sent back to Inverburn, where they were to remain for several days, keeping a sharp look-out for the fugitives. They were also empowered to compel all upon whom they could lay hands to attend upon the ministrations of the curate the following Sabbath day. The main body of the troops, with Sir James at their head, then turned southwards, to scour the hill country betwixt Douglasdale and Nithsdale, Turner being anxious to reach his home in Dumfries, from which he had been absent for a considerable space.
In due course they arrived at Dumfries, where Andrew Gray was kept a close prisoner, prior to being sent or taken by Turner before the Commissioner at Edinburgh.
It would have been a swifter and surer plan to have conveyed the prisoner direct to Edinburgh from Inverburn, but Turner expected to lay hands upon some other marked offenders in the southern districts, and to send them in a body under guard to the Commissioners. However, he was unsuccessful, and arrived in Dumfries with his one prisoner, whose only offence was in harbouring field preachers and attending the open-air services.
While Turner rested himself at home, his dragoons were not allowed to be idle, but were despatched in detachments to the various villages and hamlets, to keep the inhabitants faithful in their attendance on the curates, and to extract fines from those who refused, the latter being a very congenial task to the greedy and brutal soldiery.
One cold, bleak morning, when a party of soldiers were maltreating an old man in the village of Dairy, in Kirkcudbrightshire, four of these very wanderers, whom Turner had been seeking, arrived in desperation, seeking shelter and food, and being indignant at the dragoons' behaviour they set upon them, and compelled them to release the old man and give up their arms. Encouraged by their success, they were joined by several villagers, and surprised and overcame another party of dragoons, engaged extracting fines by violence, some little distance away. Further emboldened they marched into Dumfries, took Turner prisoner in his own house, set Andrew Gray at liberty, and constituted themselves into a small army. Thus took place the first rising against the Government, for which Andrew Gray, and many like him, had so ardently longed. With their unwilling prisoner they proceeded northwards, and were joined on the way by others, both on horse and foot. Captain Wallace was chosen as their leader, and by his side rode Andrew Gray, for he was certainly one of the boldest and most resolute among them. Travelling the same route as Turner had come, they entered Inverburn on a Sabbath morning just as service was about to begin. Entering the church, they ejected the curate, but did not take him prisoner, he being beneath their contempt; then they shut the church doors, tore up the book of service in the churchyard, the gates of which they then locked, and proceeded to the village, singing a psalm as they went. At Mistress Lyall's a halt was made for rest and refreshment, and then Andrew Gray rode off rapidly to Hartrigge, to assure his wife of his safety, and tell her their resolve, which was to proceed to Edinburgh, expecting to increase in numbers as they went.
Space will not allow me to dwell long upon the happy meeting at Hartrigge, when the husband and father was so unexpectedly restored to his home. But upon hearing that he was again going forth, Mistress Gray ominously shook her head.
"I'm for peace, Andrew," she said, in a low voice, "an' what's a handful of country folk against the soldiers of the king? Ye'll be slain in cauld blood. Better, far better, bide at hame."
Hartrigge only smiled in a lofty and superior manner at the weakness of the woman, and then inquired concerning the fugitives as well as the folk at Rowallan.
"Grandfather and David are safe enough, but waes me for Rowallan and it's bonnie sweet mistress!" said Susan Gray, with fast filling eyes. "Of course ye canna have heard that Agnes is awa' frae a' the terrors o' these troublous times, and that Adam Hepburn sits a widower by his desolate hearth."
Andrew Gray gave a violent start. It was indeed news to him. Then, with many tears, his wife related the sad story to him, which he heard in absolute silence.
"An' yet ye would still say, Peace, peace! Oh! Susan, woman, I fear ye are a coward at heart!" he said, sternly. "I will to Rowallan; surely Adam Hepburn will be determined to avenge his wife's death."
"Sure enough. He has made his vow, a terrible vow before God, Jane tells me," said his wife. "And when will ye be back to your home again, think you, Andrew?"
"Ah, that I cannot tell. Be of good cheer, Susan, and look well after the house and the bairns. The God of Hosts will preserve me, so long as He sees it to be His good pleasure. So again farewell."
So saying, Hartrigge again bade farewell to his own home, and turned his horse's head towards Rowallan.
Near to the place he saw a figure in the distance, somewhat resembling his brother-in-law, and yet the face seemed greatly changed. When he came nearer, and the figure, recognising him, advanced to meet him, he almost started at the terrible change upon his sister's widowed husband. He had not shaved nor trimmed his beard since his wife's death, and his whole aspect was that of a man whose interest in life was dead. His face was haggard and worn, his eye restless and yearning as if looking ever in vain for some beloved object, his appearance sad and miserable in the extreme.
"You have managed to escape, Andrew," he said, quite quietly, and without evincing either surprise or pleasure.
"Yes, and the Presbyterians are in arms at last; I have travelled with the company from Dumfries, increasing as we came, and there is now an army of nineteen hundred under Captain Wallace's command, lying in the village of Inverburn," responded Hartrigge, slowly. "Our destination is Edinburgh. If you still wish to avenge the murder of your angel wife, now is your time, Adam Hepburn."
Adam Hepburn drew himself up, and the light of a passion terrible to see sprang into his glittering eye. He clenched his right hand, and raised it to heaven.
"Now, O Almighty God, for the fulfilling of my vow," he said, solemnly; then, turning to Hartrigge, briefly announced his willingness and immediate readiness to accompany him. They returned first to inform Jane Gray of their intention; bade her either go to Hartrigge or get young Gavin to abide with her awhile, and not having time to seek the ministers in their shelter, they returned hastily to Inverburn. But Jane Gray immediately proceeded to the hiding-place, and informed her father and brother of the rising of the Covenanters. Then David Gray's eye kindled, and the whole expression of his countenance indicated his desire to go forth with his brethren in defence of the Covenant. Seeing that, the old man blessed him, and bade him go. So David Gray stole by the field paths to the village, and joined the army just as it was setting forth upon its adventurous march.
CHAPTER XII.
RULLION GREEN.
Late on the Sabbath evening the Covenanters reached Lanark, where they were well received by the sympathising inhabitants, who made haste to give them food, and offer them shelter for the night. Early on the following day the army assembled in the High Street, preparatory to setting out on their march to Edinburgh. At request of the leaders, the minister of Broomhill ascended the stairs of the Tolbooth, and conducted a religious service, in which the army and the townsfolk took part. After sermon, the Covenant was read, and also a declaration to the effect that it was simply in defence of their liberties that the Presbyterians had taken arms. Then, amid much enthusiasm, and many fervent God-speeds, the little army turned their faces towards the Lothians. It was now the dead of winter, and the weather was dreary and bitterly cold, being alternated by heavy rain storms and blasts of snow. The roads were in a wretched condition, and as the army endeavoured to march straight as the crow flies, they were led through many deep morasses, and had to cross many a swollen and turbid stream, as well as over bleak and exposed hills, where they received the full force of the blast.
To their disappointment and sorrow, they found the folk in the east not so enthusiastic and sympathising as their more impulsive neighbours in the west. In some villages they were received very coldly, and candidly told they were silly fanatics, and as they approached Edinburgh it seemed as if the influences of the Privy Council had extended far beyond the city boundaries, for the people looked yet more askance at the draggled and wayworn Covenanters, and even refused in some instances to relieve their wants. It was to be expected that such receptions would considerably damp the ardour of many, and as they marched, their number visibly decreased. Some stole away under cover of the night, to make what haste they could back to the comparative safety of their homes, and others less cowardly openly avowed their discontent and disappointment, and deserted their brethren in the broad light of day. But the dauntless and resolute spirit of such as Wallace, their leader, Gray of Hartrigge, and the minister of Broomhill, seemed to be only further strengthened and deepened by these reverses, and cheering the little company on, they bravely continued their march until they came within a few miles of Edinburgh. A halt was then made, and two horsemen despatched to ascertain the disposition of the citizens towards them.
It was yet early in the day when these horsemen returned, with grave countenances and downcast air, telling that they had met with but little cheer. Wallace and Hartrigge hastily rode forward to meet them, and were informed that the city was hostile towards them, the gates being closed, and guns mounted on the walls to resist their entrance.
In some doubt as to the next step to be taken, they rode back to the camp, and a grave consultation was held.
"I am for going on, and forcing an entrance into the city," said Hartrigge, dauntlessly. "It is like playing at warfare to retreat before closed gates and a few guns."
But others, whose discretion was not blinded by zeal, shook their heads, and said it were best to return quietly, and with as much speed as possible, to their homes.
Adam Hepburn took no part in the discussion, but it was easy to see that his soul yearned to shed blood. A look of deep disappointment came upon his haggard face when the majority decided in favour of retreat.
Not being in the slightest degree apprehensive of pursuit by the Government troops, they proceeded leisurely round the eastern slopes of the Pentland hills to the southern side, to begin their march homewards. The day was now closing in; the feeble wintry sun had sunk behind a bank of ominous cloud on the western horizon, and the grey bleak shadows of the night were darkening down. The north wind swept mournfully round the desolate mountain sides, sometimes raising its voice to a wail, as some sharp peak or projecting rock impeded its course.
But suddenly another sound much more ominous than the moaning wind broke upon the startled ears of the faithful band, and to their astonishment they saw what appeared to be a great army pressing rapidly on their rear. Hurriedly the Covenanters set themselves in the order of battle. It was what many among them longed for, and yet unless the God of battles held over them the banner of His defence, and aided them to discomfit their foes, what chance had they, weary, wayworn, with strength far spent by exposure and lack of food, against the dragoons, fresh from the drill and comfortable training of the barracks?
The minister of Broomhill led in fervent prayer, craving victory for the Covenant from the King of Heaven. Then they stood erect, calm, and steadfast, waiting the onslaught of the enemy. The face of Andrew Gray of Hartrigge glowed with the deep enthusiasm of religious zeal, but that of his brother-in-law, Adam Hepburn, was dark with the furious passion of revenge. His eye glittered, his hand trembled as it grasped his father's sword, and in that breathless instant his vow was repeated that the blade should not return to its sheath until it had sucked the life-blood of more than one dragoon.
Like the rush of a mighty wind Dalziel's cavalry came sweeping down upon the right wing of the insurgents' army, which was protected by a party of horse. They were manfully received, and after a vigorous struggle, completely repulsed. The general was amazed at the fighting power of the rebels, whom he had contemptuously imagined to be a gathering of raw country folk, who would turn tail at the first attack of practised soldiery. He hastily organised and led a second attack, which was met and repulsed as before, with considerable loss. Had the insurgents possessed a reserve of cavalry, victory had assuredly been theirs, in spite of the odds against them, but these repeated attacks had slain many of their horse, and those on foot were unequal to a lengthened struggle.
Wildly the din of battle roared in the mountain solitudes, and swiftly, as if in pity, the shadows of the night crept over the bleak hill tops, and up the sombre valleys, until it wrapped conquerors and conquered in its kindly folds. The Covenanters were completely routed, and had the night not speedily fallen, they must have been totally cut to pieces. As it was, fifty of their number lay dead upon the field, besides many wounded, whom they had to leave to their fate. There were also more than a hundred taken prisoners, who envied the untroubled sleep of those who had fallen in the fray. Adam Hepburn, although fighting in the very hottest forefront of the battle, marvellously escaped unhurt.
Dalziel had kept an eye upon him, for he was the most desperate fighter, as well as the surest marksman among the insurgents. He never missed his aim. Twice Dalziel ordered a subordinate to engage him in single combat, or shoot him down from a distance; but the man seemed to bear a charmed life. When the fray was over, Dalziel examined the faces of the prisoners minutely, hoping to find Hepburn among them, but was disappointed. Fleeing among the very last of his brethren from the field, Adam Hepburn came up with his brother-in-law, the minister of Broomhill, whom he recognised in the darkness by his ministerial garb.
"Is that you, David, safe and sound?" he asked, breathlessly.
"Yes! how is it with you, Adam Hepburn?" asked the minister, anxiously.
"All well; I have found my first taste of warfare very sweet this day, David Gray."
"You fought valiantly, Adam, so much so that I was amazed. How did you escape, being ever, as you were, in the thickest of the fray?"
"I know not; I had no thought of anything but cutting down the enemy and of avenging the blood of my murdered Agnes," said Adam Hepburn, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.
The minister sighed. The blessing of God could not rest upon warfare conducted under such a revengeful spirit, and yet he could scarcely blame the man for the bitterness of his wrath.
"I would much rather that you fought for the Covenant than for revenge, Adam," he said, sadly. "Will it restore to you your beloved? Nay; think for a moment, is the spirit you are cherishing one which her gentle heart would have blessed and approved?"
"You speak as a minister, not as a man, David," said Adam Hepburn, fiercely. "Had your wife been murdered in cold blood, as mine was, think you your soul would not thirst for revenge?"
"Your wife died loving you; you have the comforting assurance that her heart was knit to yours in the bonds of no ordinary affection, and that you will meet in glory," said the minister. "My case is sadder than yours, for my wife, while yet alive, has proved herself dead to me."
Adam Hepburn, though silenced, was not convinced.
"Have you seen Andrew?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject.
"No; I have been anxiously looking out for him, for I saw him wounded in the shoulder. I trust he has not fallen into the hands of the enemy."
"I think not. His horse was spared, and I fancied I saw him ride off the field. Well, our first battle is not such as to encourage our hearts, David," said Adam, with a grim smile.
"No; there will be weeping and desolation in many a home over Rullion Green," the minister answered, sadly. "I saw brave John Neilson of Corsac laid hands upon by the enemy and taken prisoner."
"Ay, and many others, whom God defend and deliver, since no human being can," said Adam. "But hark! what is that?"
The rapid sound of hoofs warned them of the approach either of some flying fugitive or a pursuing enemy, and they hastily crept in among some whin bushes, and held their breath until they should be past. To their great joy, however, it proved to be a couple of their brethren, who had been the last to leave the field of battle. Mutual congratulations were exchanged, and then one of the horsemen, a stout yeoman from the upper part of Nithsdale, urged the minister of Broomhill to take his steed, since his slender frame and not too robust constitution rendered him less fit for a long and toilsome march by foot. David Gray yielded to these entreaties and thankfully mounted the animal, for his strength was already far spent. They then separated, the two horsemen riding forward, as before, and Adam Hepburn and the Nithsdale yeoman, by name Matthew Riddell, following more slowly on foot. It was not safe for more than two to be together, on account of the pursuing and watching dragoons, whom they would be certain to encounter on the way. Thus the broken up and scattered army, who but a few days before had set out from Lanark with high hope beating in their breasts, returned to their homes.
Arrived in the parish of Inverburn, David Gray left his horse at the house of a friendly farmer outside of the village, and lest the dragoons should lay hands upon him, he crept up the valley to Hartrigge, and was the first to carry tidings of Rullion Green to Andrew Gray's wife. He found her about her usual tasks, for though her heart was heavy with foreboding fears, Susan Gray continued mindful of her husband's last words, to look well to her household, and put her trust in God. At sight of the minister, who was wofully weather-beaten and wayworn, she at once guessed that some evil had befallen the little army, of which her husband had been one of the chief supporters.
"Oh, David! I like not the way in which you have come back!" she said, in sad and anxious tones. "But have you not brought Andrew with you?"
The minister shook his head.
"Dalziel with his army fell upon us in the Pentland hills, Susan, and swept away our little band like chaff before the wind. Many lie dead upon the field of Rullion Green; Adam Hepburn and I escaped unhurt. Andrew was slightly wounded, but Adam assured me he saw him ride safely off the field. I doubt not the Lord will bring him in safety to his home. But he will need to travel slowly, and with extreme caution, for the entire route between Edinburgh and Lanark is infested with dragoons."
Susan Gray sank into a chair and burst into tears.
"I warned Andrew that peace was aye better than war, and said that an army like yours could have no chance before the king's soldiers," she said mournfully. "I wonder at you, David, a minister of the Gospel, encouraging them to shed blood."
"I believed that the time had come when resistance was demanded of us by the God of the Covenant, else I had not gone forth with them, Susan," answered the minister. "But now I must away to my hiding, for it is as much as my life is worth to be seen here in the light of day. How is it with my father, and poor Jane, left desolate in the house of Rowallan?"
"Your father is keeping well, and is safe in his hiding yet. Gavin is with his aunt, they were both here yester'een," answered Mistress Gray. "The maids have all run away in terror from Rowallan, and Jane came to tell me she had hired one who came seeking a place two days ago. She has been in the service of the laird, but was dismissed for some offence. Gavin says he likes not her appearance, but Jane seems pleased with her, for she is a good worker, and a prudent person, who is never heard about the place."
"Ah, well, the master himself, I hope and trust, will be home to his own house in a day or two, and yet, he will need to keep himself in hiding, for very sure am I, Susan, that after the valiant front he showed at Rullion Green, and the many dragoons he caused to lick the dust, Adam Hepburn will be a marked man henceforth."
Susan Gray very mournfully shook her head.
"Had ye all bidden peaceably at home, there had been none of this," she said, regretfully. "But men folk maun aye have their way."
The minister smiled; then bidding her and the little ones farewell, he stole away down the glen, and along the bank of the stream, to the hole in the Corbie's Cliff.
Looking carefully round to see that none was in sight, he scrambled up the rocky steep, brushed aside the overhanging branches, and plunged into the darkness of the subterraneous passage. Being now very familiar with the way, he had no difficulty in following the many peculiar windings of the passage, and at length he caught sight of the dim reflection of a lighted lamp in the distance, which warned him that he was nearing his father's shelter.
Lest his sudden appearance in the cave should alarm the old man, he called out "Father!" several times, as he quickly approached, and at the sound of the familiar voice, the old man sprang hastily to his feet, and ran to the mouth of the passage.
"My son, David! praise the Lord!" he exclaimed, while tears of joy coursed down his withered cheeks.
After the first glad greetings were over, David Gray sat down, and briefly rehearsed all that had befallen him since he set out with the Covenanting army for Edinburgh. As was natural, the recital greatly saddened the heart of his aged father, for he had solaced himself in his solitary captivity with glowing visions of the success which would attend his brethren in arms, and of the happy results which might accrue from their vigorous upstanding for the truth.
"It is the Lord's will. Unless of His good pleasure, such things could not be," he said. "The Church requires yet further refining in the fire ere she can be purged from all her iniquities, and can stand with clean hands before her God. But now, my son, you are weary, and stand in much need of rest and refreshment. Both are here."
The cave was indeed now a very comfortable place of abode. By degrees Jane Gray had conveyed many little comforts to her father, among the greatest of which was the lamp, and a store of books. Provisions in plenty were also at hand, and the minister of Broomhill partook of his repast with a keen relish, for he had not broken his fast for many hours. Immediately thereafter he stretched himself on the bed, and soon all his troubles were forgotten in the heavy, dreamless sleep of utter exhaustion.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE NEW MAID.
"What are you doing in the barn at this hour of the day, Martha Miller? Putting off your time loitering about, and all the milk pans standing in the dairy wanting to be scalded. Get about your work without more ado!"
It was Jane Gray who spoke, and her voice and manner were both unusually sharp. Ordinarily, even when reproving, she spoke in a tone of habitual gentleness, holding it unbecoming for a gentlewoman to exhibit any violence of temper. It was not that she was particularly annoyed at the woman putting off her time, for indeed there was nothing pushing in the house of Rowallan now, but this was the second time she had caught her in the barn, when she had no call to be there, and her suspicions were roused lest she should be trying to discover, or had already discovered, the secret of the chaff hole.
Martha Miller was the new maid, and in appearance a comely, pleasant-looking person, about whom there was nothing suggestive of treachery or double-dealing. She looked straight into the face of her mistress, and dropped an apologetic curtsey.
"I beg pardon, Miss Gray; I was seeking a bite for the hens. I canna get peace about the doors for them," she answered, glibly, and at the same time pointing to the feathered flock, gathered expectantly round the barn door.
"That is just nonsense, Martha Miller. If you run for a bite to them every time they gather at your heels, you'll have your work," retorted Miss Gray, still sharply. "And, you know, I feed them myself every morning; and that they need, and get no more till bedtime."
"I didna' ken, bein' a hoose-servant, ma'am," answered Martha, with apparent humility. "I'll no' dae it again."
Afraid lest, in her turn, she should arouse the suspicions of the maid, Jane Gray did not then enter the barn, but returned to her household duties. In the afternoon, however, when she went for the customary feed of com for the poultry, she hastily looked into the chaff-hole to see if there were any signs of it having been disturbed. But no; the chaff was scattered over the floor, there was no mark of either hand or foot, and the trap-door had evidently not been disturbed.
Considerably relieved, and somewhat blaming herself for her suspicions of the maid, Jane Gray went back to the house; and yet a vague, inexplicable distrust of Martha Miller continued to oppress her soul She knew her perfectly well. She was the daughter of one of the foresters on the estate of Inverburn, and, before the persecutions, had regularly attended the church with her parents. Jane had not attached any weight to the fact that she had served for two years in the family of the laird, not imagining that Sir Thomas was so bigoted an Episcopalian as to seek to influence his dependents.
She was sitting by her lonely hearth pondering these things in her mind, when there came a low tap at the window. Hastily rising, she peered out, and, with great joy, beheld the face of her brother-in-law, Adam Hepburn.
"Is all safe? Can I come in?"
"All is safe. Inverburn has been quiet for days, and there is not a soldier in the district," she whispered back. "Better go round and enter boldly by the kitchen door, as a master should; it will better impress Martha Miller, the new maid, whom I would not should think we had anything to hide."
Adam Hepburn nodded, walked round about to the barn-yard, where he was joyfully greeted by his faithful collie, and, opening the kitchen door, stalked in. Martha Miller was knitting a stocking by the kitchen hearth, and looked round in no little amazement at sight of the master of Rowallan, whom she knew very well by sight.
"Well, Martha, so you have come to serve at Rowallan," he said, pleasantly. "I heard of it in my absence. I hope we will get on as master and servant. Is your father well?"
"Yes, sir, thank ye," answered Martha, considerably confused by Adam Hepburn's easy manner, and his evident familiarity with all that had transpired during his absence.
"Get on the pot and make me a basin of milk porridge, Martha. I have had a long journey, and am very hungry," he said, quietly, and then joined his sister-in-law in the adjoining room, the door of which he carefully closed.
As Jane Gray was already fully acquainted with the details of Rullion Green, it was not necessary for Adam Hepburn to say anything concerning it, but he had to tell her the story of his own journey home, which had been marked by many perilous vicissitudes and marvellous escapes out of the hands of the enemy. Matthew Riddell, the yeoman, with whom he had travelled, had been laid hands on near Biggar, his own incautiousness and haste to get home having induced him to continue his journey by day, instead of hiding till the friendly darkness fell.
"Is Hartrigge home yet?" Adam asked, suddenly breaking in upon his own narrative.
"No; we were in hopes that you would come together. Susan, poor soul, is in a very anxious frame of mind," answered Jane.
Adam Hepburn looked grave indeed.
"Then I fear he has either been captured or succumbed to his wound. In no other way can I account for his protracted absence. It may be, however, that he is sheltering, for his health's sake, in some friendly household. We will hope so. But tell me, Jane, have you been sojourning in this lonely house alone since my departure?"
"No; Gavin is with me at night. He went home to-day to see his mother, and, knowing I have no fear, may possibly remain till morning. Adam, do you think it will be safe for you to remain quite publicly at your own house? David seemed to think you would be marked."
"Marked or not, I shall not go into hiding, Jane," he said, quietly. "I have but to slay a few more of these miscreants, and then what is life worth to me?"
"Hush! Adam; the Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away. Save of His will, Agnes could not have died," she said, gently. "The thought that she is safe in our Father's house should be a great comfort to you, as it is to me, for, amid the terrors and anxieties of these days, she suffered a perpetual martyrdom."
Adam Hepburn rose and restlessly paced to and fro the room, his face betraying the many conflicting emotions which surged in his soul. His cruel and ruthless bereavement had shaken his faith to the very foundations, and he could well-nigh have exclaimed with the fool, "There is no God." "Other men have fathers, and mothers, and children, Jane," he said, in quick rebellious tones. "I had only her, and the Almighty knew how dear, how necessary she was to my existence. Wherein had I so grievously sinned that I required such a terrible punishment? Willingly would I have given up houses and lands, cattle and oxen, all,allI have in the world, if onlyshehad been spared."
"Dear Adam, we may not question the ways of the Lord," said Jane Gray in a low voice. "I think sometimes it is the things we most set our hearts upon in this evil world that are not good for us to have. There is such a thing as making an idol of a human being, my brother, and you know the command is, 'Thou shalt have no other gods before Me.'"
Adam Hepburn remained silent, but was not convinced.
Jane Gray looked sorrowfully into his face, deploring the change this blow had wrought, not only upon the outward man, but upon the inner spirit, sweeping away all the sunny-heartedness, the blithe and kindly charity which had ever characterised him, making him so lovable in every way. She could but pray that God, to whom all things are possible, would temper the wind, and show to the stricken and rebellious heart the sweet bow of promise behind the bitter cloud.
"And how is the curate performing his pastoral duties now?" enquired Adam presently, in a somewhat mocking tone. "Has his eloquence, combined with the more rugged persuasions of the dragoons, induced many more to attend upon his ministrations?"
"Watty McBean was here the other night, and he told me there was a goodly attendance in the kirk last Sabbath Day, chiefly of those timid and not very steadfast folks, whom fear has moved against their wills," Jane made answer. "I wonder now that Watty did not join with the army; he is a very staunch upholder of the Covenant."
"Ay, but he never was a fechter [fighter], as he says," replied Adam, with a slight smile. "Watty is a sly dog. He'll keep himself out of mischief, yet follow the dictates of his own conscience."
At that moment Martha Miller knocked at the door, and entered bearing a small server, on which stood her master's evening meal, a steaming basin of milk porridge, and a bowl of new milk beside it.
At her entrance Adam Hepburn looked keenly into the woman's face, and when she was gone, he turned to his sister-in-law, and said briefly, "I mistrust the countenance of that woman, Jane. Under what circumstances was she dismissed from the services of the laird?"
"I did not pursue the subject with her, Adam. She said she could not agree with her neighbours in the kitchen, and that her ladyship had blamed her for the disturbances there," replied Jane Gray. "Knowing her to be a capable worker, I engaged her gladly; for though she might be of a quarrelsome temper, she could not well fall out with herself, and I am not one to bandy words with a serving woman."
"Keep an eye on her, Jane, and be careful of your words in her hearing. I misdoubt me very much if she be not a spy sent hither by Sir Thomas Hamilton, who in the zeal of his loyalty to the king will not be slow to forget his honour as a gentleman," said Adam slowly. "I lost faith in the laird from that day he threatened me with danger to your father, if I did not turn out to McLean's preaching."
Jane Gray sighed. If foes were to be found in the very household, among those who broke and ate bread at the table, on whom could trust be stayed? Her brother-in-law's words were simply a re-echo of her own doubts and fears, which, however, she kept as yet to herself.
After some further conversation they separated for the night, but Adam Hepburn did not close an eye, for, under his own roof-tree, his heart was torn anew by the violence of his sorrow, and ached with intolerable yearning for the "touch of a vanished hand, and the sound of a voice that was still!"
On the morrow he went about his duties as usual, superintending the work on the farm, it having been almost at a standstill for many weeks. It was more to keep himself in occupation than out of any interest in the thing, for even the ordinary business of getting and spending had ceased to occupy the minds of men.
That afternoon, when Jane Gray went out as usual to feed her poultry, she had occasion to step round to the corn-yard in search of some young chickens which had deserted their usual roost, and which she feared might become the prey of the foxes that frequently paid a visit to Rowallan, and which that very spring had made off with some of the lambs. Her soft shoes made no noise on the turf, therefore she did not alarm two people sheltering behind a stack of straw, and busily engrossed in conversation. She came upon them quite suddenly, and to her astonishment, who should it be but Martha Miller, the maid, and the curate of Inverburn! Both looked considerably confused, and Martha threw her apron over her head, and turned to go.
"I shall have a word to say to you for this wasting of my time, Martha," her mistress said, pointing towards the house; then turning to the curate, she added, with quiet, yet courteous dignity, "Sir, is it consistent with the gospel you are supposed to preach, to wile a servant-maid away from her household duties almost in the middle of the day, to confer with you in secret like this?"
The curate's sallow face flushed under the scathing rebuke which fell so quietly from those calm, proud lips.
"When I am not permitted to visit members of my flock at their masters' houses, I must perforce see them outside," he answered, with rude boldness, and yet his eyes instinctively sought the ground.
"Sir, I am not aware that the master of Rowallan has ever forbidden you his house," said Jane Gray, still calmly. "The members of the flock surely are ashamed of their shepherd, for Martha Miller has never ceased to disclaim all connection with your ministrations, and I am made aware to-day, for the first time, that she is on speaking terms with you."
"Madam, know you to whom you speak so disrespectfully?" quoth Mr. McLean in wrathful tones. "Know you that it is chiefly owing to my long forbearance with you and yours that the name and the house of Gray have not been totally extinguished?"
A slight smile curved for a moment Jane Gray's resolute lips, and the mild scorn it implied made the spirit of the curate chafe within him.
"Truly grateful are we for your forbearance towards us, Mr. McLean," she answered courteously. "I bid you good afternoon."
So saying, Jane Gray turned about and returned to the house. Upon second thoughts, she took no further notice of the occurrence to Martha Miller, deeming it more prudent to let her imagine it of no importance in the eyes of her mistress. Nevertheless, she redoubled her watchfulness, and took care that there was nothing in her actions to arouse the maid's suspicions. Hitherto, when conveying provisions to the dear ones in hiding, Jane Gray had simply been content to lock the barn door from the inside, and shut herself into the chaff-hole, so that none could possibly be witness to her descent into the cave. But now, after conference with her brother-in-law, they agreed that the safest plan would be for him to rise in the middle of the night and take down the food himself.
These precautions, however, were taken too late; for already the cunning eyes of Martha Miller had penetrated the secret of the chaff-hole.