* * * * *I cannot linger over these happy moments, so fraught with deepest joy, and yet so shadowed by undying memories and unutterable yearnings for those who were not! Before many minutes were passed they missed Adam Hepburn from their midst, and looking from their southern window they saw him wending his solitary way towards Rowallan. And they let him go in peace, knowing the unutterable yearnings of his soul.* * * * *So gleams of sunset joy were vouchsafed to these beaten pilgrims, whose way through life had been so long under shadow of the cloud. And there were Grays again in Hartrigge and Rowallan, and it was hoped that there would be a Gray again in the manse and kirk of Inverburn, when the little David, destined from his birth for the ministry, should be grown to manhood. The family of Burnet of Haughhead was now extinct, save for Sandy Gray's wife. The spoiled daughter of the house had not long survived the death of her boy, who succumbed to his constitutional weaknesses at the age of fifteen. Gilbert Burnet and his wife were dead also, and Haughhead in the hands of a distant connection, who was proved to be the nearest male heir. While any of her Burnet kindred lived, Lilian Gray would never have been permitted to follow her mother's example, and marry a Gray. Her happy home was a haven of peace and rest to her father, who grew young again in heart in her blithe companionship. How dear each was to the other, or what unutterable thanksgiving dwelt continually in their hearts, I cannot tell you. Adam Hepburn spent his time betwixt Hartrigge and Rowallan, but as was natural, was oftenest at the latter place. He was a quiet, gentle, unobtrusive old man, who seemed to live much in the past. He appeared like one who had no hold upon this present life, but who was simply sojourning at a wayside inn, waiting and waiting for a summons to come farther on. But is it not so with us all? The old fiery spirit seemed to be utterly quenched, but no man or woman ever heard him allude to the stormy or terrible past, and when the events of these stirring times were made the subject of conversation, or even distantly alluded to, he never failed to at once separate himself from the rest. He spent much of the time in the churchyard, and would sit for hours upon his wife's grave, with his well-worn Bible for a companion, an object of strange compassion to all who saw him there, and who knew the story of his life-long faithfulness to the memory of one woman.One sweet summer evening they missed him from among the happy circle at Hartrigge, and knowing he was not at Rowallan, they grew alarmed at last at his long absence, and went in search of him. As was natural, they turned their steps first to the "auld kirk-yaird." He was sitting there, in a down-bent posture, his head almost touching his knees, and his face hidden on the pages of the open Book. David Gray stepped to his side, and touching his arm, said very gently--"Adam, my brother, it is growing late; come away home."There was no motion in the silent figure, which sat so still as to alarm them. Then David Gray slipped his hand beneath the bent head, and lightly laid it on the breast, but there was no motion there."He has passed away from us," said the minister, tremblingly, "and this night has looked once more upon the face of his beloved, after these forty weary years. It was the hour and the place he longed for. I have often heard him say it. Let us give thanks to our God for His abundant lovingkindness vouchsafed to our weary brother this night."Ended now the storm of life, ended the long desolation, the bitter yearnings, which had these many years riven that lonely heart. Ended, too, his brief lingering in the sunset at the wayside inn; and for Adam Hepburn now came the eternal enjoyment of that sweet rest which remaineth for the people of God.THE ENDPRINTED BY CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED,LA BELLE SAUVAGE, LONDON, E.C.*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKADAM HEPBURN'S VOW***
* * * * *
I cannot linger over these happy moments, so fraught with deepest joy, and yet so shadowed by undying memories and unutterable yearnings for those who were not! Before many minutes were passed they missed Adam Hepburn from their midst, and looking from their southern window they saw him wending his solitary way towards Rowallan. And they let him go in peace, knowing the unutterable yearnings of his soul.
* * * * *
So gleams of sunset joy were vouchsafed to these beaten pilgrims, whose way through life had been so long under shadow of the cloud. And there were Grays again in Hartrigge and Rowallan, and it was hoped that there would be a Gray again in the manse and kirk of Inverburn, when the little David, destined from his birth for the ministry, should be grown to manhood. The family of Burnet of Haughhead was now extinct, save for Sandy Gray's wife. The spoiled daughter of the house had not long survived the death of her boy, who succumbed to his constitutional weaknesses at the age of fifteen. Gilbert Burnet and his wife were dead also, and Haughhead in the hands of a distant connection, who was proved to be the nearest male heir. While any of her Burnet kindred lived, Lilian Gray would never have been permitted to follow her mother's example, and marry a Gray. Her happy home was a haven of peace and rest to her father, who grew young again in heart in her blithe companionship. How dear each was to the other, or what unutterable thanksgiving dwelt continually in their hearts, I cannot tell you. Adam Hepburn spent his time betwixt Hartrigge and Rowallan, but as was natural, was oftenest at the latter place. He was a quiet, gentle, unobtrusive old man, who seemed to live much in the past. He appeared like one who had no hold upon this present life, but who was simply sojourning at a wayside inn, waiting and waiting for a summons to come farther on. But is it not so with us all? The old fiery spirit seemed to be utterly quenched, but no man or woman ever heard him allude to the stormy or terrible past, and when the events of these stirring times were made the subject of conversation, or even distantly alluded to, he never failed to at once separate himself from the rest. He spent much of the time in the churchyard, and would sit for hours upon his wife's grave, with his well-worn Bible for a companion, an object of strange compassion to all who saw him there, and who knew the story of his life-long faithfulness to the memory of one woman.
One sweet summer evening they missed him from among the happy circle at Hartrigge, and knowing he was not at Rowallan, they grew alarmed at last at his long absence, and went in search of him. As was natural, they turned their steps first to the "auld kirk-yaird." He was sitting there, in a down-bent posture, his head almost touching his knees, and his face hidden on the pages of the open Book. David Gray stepped to his side, and touching his arm, said very gently--
"Adam, my brother, it is growing late; come away home."
There was no motion in the silent figure, which sat so still as to alarm them. Then David Gray slipped his hand beneath the bent head, and lightly laid it on the breast, but there was no motion there.
"He has passed away from us," said the minister, tremblingly, "and this night has looked once more upon the face of his beloved, after these forty weary years. It was the hour and the place he longed for. I have often heard him say it. Let us give thanks to our God for His abundant lovingkindness vouchsafed to our weary brother this night."
Ended now the storm of life, ended the long desolation, the bitter yearnings, which had these many years riven that lonely heart. Ended, too, his brief lingering in the sunset at the wayside inn; and for Adam Hepburn now came the eternal enjoyment of that sweet rest which remaineth for the people of God.
THE END
PRINTED BY CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED,LA BELLE SAUVAGE, LONDON, E.C.
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKADAM HEPBURN'S VOW***