CHAPTER VIITHE FLUTE-PLAYERThe moon was breaking through a wreath of clouds when I came to the end of the loch again, and its light guided me to my hiding-place. As I had lain asleep all day, I was in no need of rest, so I set out along the hill-side to stretch my limbs and explore my surroundings further. All was silent, and the face of the loch shone in the moonlight like a silver shield.The unexpected happenings of the last hour filled my mind. I had been told once and again that the Covenanters were a dour, stubborn pack of kill-joys, with no interests outside the narrow confines of their bigotry. A flute-playing Covenanter--and, withal, a master such as this man had shown himself to be--was something I found it hard, to understand. And more than once since that fatal day at Wigtown I had thought of winsome Margaret Wilson, whose brave blue eyes were of a kind to kindle love in a man's heart. She, the sweet maid, and this soulful musician of the hills, made me think that after all the Covenanters must be human beings with feelings and aspirations, loves and hopes like other men, and were not merely lawless fanatics to be shot like wild cats or drowned like sheep-worrying dogs.I wondered whether this Covenanter had been hiding on the other side of the loch long before I came; or whether he had been driven by the troopers from some other lair a few hours before and was but a passer-by in the night. No man, in flight, resting for a time would have been so unwary as this flute-player. He must have been there long enough to know that his solitude was unlikely to be disturbed by any sudden arrival of troopers, and, if so, he must have some means of supplying himself with food. An idea seized me. If he, like myself, was a fugitive in hiding I might be able to eke out my diminishing store by procuring from him some of the food which I imagined must be brought to him by friends. But then, how could I expect that one, whose enemies wore the same coat as I did, would grant me this favour. Even if I told him my story, would he believe me?However, I resolved that, when the morning broke, I would try to make friends with this man: but--my uniform? From his hiding-place he would doubtless observe my approach, and either conceal himself the closer or escape me by flight. Turning the matter over in my mind, I continued my walk along the loch-side, and suddenly, because I was not paying full heed to the manner of my going, my feet sank under me and I was sucked into a bog. A "bottomless" bog so common in these Scottish moors would quickly have solved my difficulties. With no small effort I raised my head above the ooze and slime, withdrew my right arm from the sodden morass, out of which it came with a hideous squelch, and felt all round for some firm tussock of grass or rushes. Luckily finding one, I pulled upon it cautiously, and it held--then more firmly, and still it held. Clinging to it I withdrew my left arm from the morass, and, laying hold on another tussock, after a prolonged and exhausting effort I succeeded in drawing myself up till I was able to rest my arms on a clump of rushes that stood in the heart of the bog. Resting for a little to recover myself, I at last drew myself completely out; and as I stood with my feet planted firmly in the heart of the rushes, I saw a clump of grass, and stepped upon it, and from it, with a quick leap, to the other side. As I stood wet and mud-drenched, it suddenly flashed upon me that this untoward event might turn to my advantage. The brown ooze of the bog would effectually hide the scarlet of my coat. Even if the fugitive on the other side of the loch should see my approach, he would not recognise in this mud-stained wanderer an erstwhile spick-and-span trooper of Lag's Horse.I made my way carefully to the water edge and washed the bitter ooze from my face and hands. Then I took off my tunic--having first carefully taken from its pockets the remains of my store of food, now all sodden--and laid it on a boulder to dry. Then I paced up and down briskly, till the exercise brought a grateful warmth to my limbs.I sat down and looked wonderingly over the broad surface of the loch. A wind had sprung up, warm and not unkindly, which caught the surface of the water and drove little plashing waves against the gravel edge. As I listened to their chatter I suddenly heard footsteps close at hand. Throwing myself flat on the ground I waited. Who was it? The Covenanter ought to be at the other side of the loch. Was there another refugee as well as myself on this side, or was it a pursuer who had at last found me, and had I escaped death in the bog only to face it a few days hence against a wall in Wigtown with a firing party before me?CHAPTER VIIIA COVENANTER'S CHARITYThe footsteps drew nearer and stopped. I had been seen. There was a long pause, then a voice in level, steady tones said: "Are you a kent body in this country-side?"I rose quickly to my feet and faced the speaker. I could see him as a dark but indistinct figure standing some yards from me on the slope of the brae, but I knew from the lack of austerity in his tones that he was no trooper, and I thought that in all likelihood he would prove to be the player of the flute."Need a man answer such a question?" said I. "What right have you to ask who I am?""I have no right," he replied, as he drew nearer--"no title but curiosity. Strangers here are few and far between. As for me, I am a shepherd.""A strange time of night," said I, "for a shepherd to look for his sheep.""Ay," answered the voice, "and my flock has been scattered by wolves.""I understand," I said. "You are a minister of the Kirk, a Covenanter, a hill-man in hiding."He came quite close to me and said: "I'm no' denying that you speak the truth. Who are you?""Like you," I replied, "I am a fugitive--a man with a price on his head.""A Covenanter?""No; a deserter from Lag's Horse.""From Lag's Horse?" he exclaimed, repeating my words. "A deserter?"Uncertain what to say, I waited. Then he continued:"May I make so bold as to ask if your desertion is the fruit of conviction of soul, or the outcome of some drunken spree?"I have not the Scottish faculty for analysing my motives, and I hardly knew what to say. Was I a penitent, ashamed and sorry for the evil things in which I had played a part, or did I desert merely to escape punishment for my part in the drunken brawl in the tavern? I had not yet made a serious attempt to assess the matter; and here, taken at unawares in the stillness of the night among the silent hills, I was conscious of the near presence of God before whose bar I was arraigned by this quiet interlocutor."I am wet to the skin and chilled to the bone, for only an hour ago I foundered in a bog, but if you will walk with me," I said, "I will tell you the story and you shall judge.""It is not for man to judge, for he cannot read the heart aright, but if you will tell me your story I will know as much of you as you seem already to know of me," he said, as he took me by the arm. "Like you," he continued, "I am a fugitive; and if you are likely to stop for long in this hiding-place, it were well that we should understand each other."As we paced up and down, I told him the whole shameful tale.When I had finished he sat down on the hill-side and, burying his face in his hands, was silent for a space. Then he rose, and laying a hand upon my shoulder peered into my face. The darkness was yet too great for us to see each other clearly, but his eyes were glistening."It is not," he said, "for me to judge. God knows! but I am thinking that your desertion was more than a whim, though I would not go the length of saying that you have repented with tears for the evil you have done. May God forgive you, and may grace be given you to turn ere it is too late from the paths of the wicked."As I told him my story I had feared that when he heard it he would have nothing more to do with me: but I had misjudged his charity. Suddenly he held his hand out to me, saying:"Providence has cast us together, mayhap that your soul may be saved, and mine kept from withering. I am ready to be your friend if you will be mine."I took his outstretched hand. I had longed for his friendship for my own selfish ends, and he, who had nothing to gain from my friendship, offered me his freely.The night had worn thin as we talked, and now in the growing light I could see my companion more clearly. He seemed a man well past middle life; before long I was to learn that he was more than three score years and ten, but neither at this moment nor later should I have imagined it. He was straight as a ramrod, spare of body and pallid of face, save where on his high cheek-bones the moorland wind and the rays of the summer sun had burned him brown. The hair of his head was black, streaked here and there by a few scanty threads of silver. His forehead was broad and high, his nose was well-formed and somewhat aquiline, and his brown eyes were full of light. It was to his eyes and to his mouth, around which there seemed to lurk some wistful playfulness, that his face owed its attraction. He was without doubt a handsome man--I have rarely seen a handsomer.As I peered into his face and looked him up and down, somewhat rudely I fear, he was studying me with care. My woebegone appearance seemed to amuse him, for when his scrutiny was over he said:"Ye're no' ill-faured: but I'm thinking Lag would be ill-pleased if he saw one of his dragoons in sic a mess.""I trust he won't," I said with fervour, and my companion laughed heartily.He laid a hand upon my arm, and with a twinkle in his eye said: "The old Book says: 'If thine enemy hunger, feed him.' Have you anything to eat?"I showed him what I had and invited him to help himself, as I picked up my tunic and slipped it on."No, no," he replied, "I am better provided than you. The Lord that sent the ravens to Elijah has spread for me a table in the wilderness and my cup runneth over. Come with me and let us break our fast together. They do say that to eat a man's salt thirls another to him as a friend. I have no salt to offer you, but"--and he smiled--"I have plenty of mutton ham, and I am thinking you will find that salt enough."The light was rapidly flooding the hill-side as we took our way round to his side of the loch."Bide here a minute," he said, as he left me beside a granite boulder.I guessed that, with native caution, he was as yet averse to let me see his resting-place, or the place in which he stored his food. In my heart of hearts the slight stung me, and then I realised that I had no right to expect that a Covenanter should trust me absolutely, on the instant. In a few moments he was back again, and I was amazed at the quantity of food he brought with him. It was wrapped in a fair cloth of linen, which he spread carefully on the hill-side, arranging the food upon it. There were farles of oatcake, and scones, besides the remains of a goodly leg of mutton. When the feast was spread he stood up and taking off his bonnet began to pray aloud. I listened till he had finished his lengthy prayer, refraining from laying hands upon any of the toothsome food that lay before me. When he had ground out a long "Amen," he opened his eyes and replaced his bonnet. Then he cut a generous slice of mutton and passed it to me."I never break my fast," he said, "without thanking God, and I am glad to see that you are a well-mannered young man. I dare hardly have expected so much from a trooper.""Ah," I answered, "I have had advantages denied to most of the troopers."He nodded his head, and lapsing into the speech of the country-side, as I had yet to learn was his wont whenever his feelings were stirred, he said:"That reminds me of what once befell mair than thirty years sin' when I was daunnerin' along the road from Kirkcudbright to Causewayend. It was a summer day just like this, and on the road I foregathered wi' a sailor-body that had come off a schooner in Kirkcudbright. We walked along and cracked, and I found him, like every other sailor-man, to be an interesting chiel. By and by we cam' to a roadside inn. I asked him to join me in a bite and sup. The inn-keeper's lass brocht us scones and cheese and a dram apiece, and when they were set afore us, I, as is my custom, took off my bonnet and proceeded to thank the Lord for these temporal mercies. When I opened ma een I found that my braw sailor lad had gulped doon my dram as weel as his ain, while I was asking the blessing. 'What dae ye mean by sic a ploy?' says I; but the edge was ta'en off ma anger when the sailor-man, wiping his moo' wi' the back o' his haun', said, 'Weel, sir, the guid Book says ye should watch as weel as pray.'"At the memory of the trick played upon him my companion burst into laughter, and I have rarely heard a happier laugh.He was a generous host, and pressed me to take my fill."There is plenty for us both," he said. "Dinna be blate, my lad, help yersel'." Then as he offered me another slice of mutton, he said: "I am thinking that the ravens are kinder to me than they were to Elijah, for, so far as I know, they never brocht him a mutton ham. But who ever heard o' a braxy sheep in the wilds o' Mount Carmel!" and he laughed again.When our meal was over he looked me up and down again. I could see that he was distressed at the condition of my clothing, but I explained to him that I considered my fall into the bog a blessing in disguise, since it toned down the bright colour of my garments and would make them less easily seen upon the moorland."That's as may be, but ye're an awfu' sicht. However, I've no doubt that when the glaur dries it winna look so bad."As he talked I was divesting myself of my uniform, and as I stood before him in my shirt he looked me over again and said: "You might disguise yourself by making a kilt out o' your coat, but twa sic' spindle shanks o' legs would gi'e you awa' at once. I know well, since ye're an Englishman, ye werena' brought up on the carritches, and I can see for myself ye got no oatmeal when ye were a bairn."I laughed, as I tossed my last garment aside, and running to the edge of the loch plunged into its depths. He watched me as I swam, and when I came to the shore again I found him drying my outer garments over a fire which he had kindled."It'll be time for bed," he said, "in a few minutes. You take your ways to your own hidie-hole and I will take my way to mine; and may God send us sweet repose. No man can tell, but I am thinking there will be no troopers up here the day. They combed this loch-side a fortnight sin', and when they had gone I came and hid here. Maist likely they'll no' be back here for a long time."I thanked him for his hospitality, and as I turned to go I said: "Where shall I find you to-night, for I should like to have more of your company?""Well," he answered, "I always sleep on this side of the loch; and when night falls and a' thing seems safe, it is mair than likely ye'll hear me playing a bit tune on the flute. When ye hear that, if ye come round to this side and just wait a wee, ye'll likely see me again. Good morning! and God bless you!"CHAPTER IXTHE STORY OF ALEXANDER MAINI made for my hiding-place, and, snugly covered up in my lair, I was soon asleep. In the late afternoon I awoke. What it was that woke me I know not, but as I lay half-conscious in the dreamy shallows that lie around the sea of sleep, I heard something stir among the brackens not far from me. I raised myself on an elbow, and separating the fronds above me gazed in the direction from which the sound came. Less than a score of paces away a winsome girl was tripping briskly along the hill-side. Her head was crowned with masses of chestnut-brown hair which glistened with a golden sheen where the sunlight caught it. Over her shoulders was flung lightly a plaid of shepherd's tartan. Her gown was of a dull reddish colour, and she walked lightly, with elastic step. I was not near enough, nor dare I, lest I should be seen, crane my neck beyond my hiding-place to see her features clearly, but I could tell that she was fair to look upon. My eyes followed her wistfully as she rapidly ascended the slope, but in a moment she was out of sight over its crest. I wondered who she could be. This mountain fastness was a place of strange surprises. I pondered long but could find no light, so I settled myself to sleep again; but ere I slept there flitted through my waking dreams the vision of a winsome maid with hair a glory of sun-kissed brown.On waking, my first thought was of her, and anxiously and half-hopefully I peeped into the gathering darkness to see if she had come back again; but there was nothing to see except the beds of heather, purple in the gathering twilight, and the grey shadows of the granite rocks scattered along the hill-side.I judged that the time had come when I might with safety issue from my hiding-place, so I ventured forth. Sitting down upon the hill-side I helped myself to some of my rapidly diminishing food. As I did so, I thought with gratitude of the hermit on the other side of the loch, who, of his large charity, had made me free of his ample stores.And then the truth flashed upon me--the little bird which brought his food was no repulsive, croaking raven, but a graceful heather-lintie--the girl whom I had seen that afternoon.When I had finished eating, I went down to the edge of the loch and, stooping, drank. Then I returned to my seat and waited. The stars were coming out one by one, and the horn of the moon was just appearing like the point of a silver sickle above a bank of clouds when I heard the music of the flute. It pulsated with a haunting beauty, like some elfin melody which the semi-darkness and the intervening water conspired to render strangely sweet. Evidently the player was in a happy mood, for his notes were instinct with joy, and, though they lacked that mystic sadness which had so thrilled me a night ago, they cast a glamour over me. When the music ceased I tarried for a space, for I had no desire to break in upon the devotions of my friend; but by and by I made my way round to the other side of the loch.I found the hermit awaiting me. He bade me "Good e'en" and asked if I had had anything to eat. I told him that I had already satisfied my hunger."That is a pity," he said, "for the ravens have been kind to-day and have brought me a little Galloway cheese forby twa or three girdles-fu' o' guid, crisp oatcake; by the morn they'll no' be so tasty, so just try a corner and a wee bit o' cheese along with me."Little loth, I assented, and soon I was enjoying some of his toothsome store. I ate sparingly, for I had already blunted the edge of my hunger and I had no wish to abuse his generosity. As I nibbled the crisp oatcake I thought of the girl I had seen on the hill-side, and in a fit of curiosity said: "I have been thinking that though the Lord sent the ravens to feed Elijah, he has been sending somebody bonnier and blither to feed you--in fact no raven, but a heather-lintie!"He looked at me quickly, and replied: "I am no' sayin' yea or nay; and at any rate you have no call to exercise your mind with what doesna concern you."The rebuke was a just one and I was sorry for my offence.When our meal was over, he took me by the arm. "What say you to a walk by the light o' the moon?" he asked. "I'll guarantee you will fall into no more bogs, for I know every foot of these hills as well as I know the palm of my hand.""Your pleasure is mine," I said. So we set out, and as we went he talked."Last night," he said, "you told me your story; to-night, if you care to listen, I will tell you mine."I am an older man by far than you are, and I will never see the three-score and ten again. As my days so has my strength been. I have seen a feck of things and taken part in many a deed that will help to make history. You may think I boast myself, but listen. My name is Alexander Main, and, as you ken, I am a minister of the Kirk of Scotland. The year 1638 saw me a student in the Glasgow College--that is long syne, and they were stirring times. Ye may have heard of that great gathering in the Greyfriars Kirk at Edinburgh on the last day of February 1638, when we swore and put our names to the National Covenant. It was a great day. The crowd filled kirk and yard. Well do I mind the gallant Warriston reading the Covenant, much of which had come glowing from his own pen--but most of all I mind the silence that fell upon us when the reading was over. Then the good Earl of Sutherland stepped forward and put his name to it, and man followed man, each eager to pledge himself to the bond. Some of us, I mind well, wrote after their names the words 'Till death,' and others signed it with their blood.""And what might this Covenant be?" I asked."Ah," he said, "I had forgotten. Briefly the bond was this: 'to adhere to and defend the true religion of Presbyterianism, and to labour to recover the purity and liberty of the Gospel as it was established and professed in the Kingdom of Scotland.' It was to put an end to all endeavours to foist prelacy upon us and to signify our adherence to the Presbyterian form of Church-government which King James himself had sworn to uphold in this Kingdom of Scotland, that we put our names to the bond. Not that we were against the King, for in the Covenant it was written plain that we were ready with our lives to stand to the defence of our dread sovereign, the King's Majesty. The wave of fervour spread like a holy fire from that old kirkyard through the length and breadth of Scotland, and the noblest blood in the land and the flower of its intellect signed the Covenant. Later on there came a day when those who stood for liberty of conscience in England as well as Scotland made a compact. That was the Solemn League and Covenant, whereby we bound ourselves to preserve a reformed religion in the Church of Scotland. The memory of man is short, and it has almost been forgotten that the solemn league was a joint Scottish and English affair, and that it was ratified by the English Parliament. These things were the beginning, but since then this puir kingdom has passed through the fire."He paused and sighed deeply, then picking up the thread of his words again he told me the chequered history of the Covenanters for close on fifty years. It was a story that thrilled me--a record of suffering, of high endeavour, of grievous wrong. Of his own sufferings he made little, though he had suffered sore, and I, who had never felt the call to sacrifice myself for a principle, was humbled to the dust as I listened. He spoke in accents tense with emotion, and sometimes his voice rang with pride. I was too spell-bound to interrupt him, though many questions were upon my lips.At last he ceased, as though the memories he was recalling had overwhelmed him, then he resumed:"So, in some sort, my story is the story of puir auld Scotland, for the past fifty years. It is a tragedy, and the pity is--a needless tragedy! If the rulers of a land would study history and human nature, it would save them from muckle wrong-doing and oppression. It has been tried before and, I doubt not, it will be tried many a time again, but it will never succeed--for no tyrant can destroy the soul of a people by brute force. They call us rebels, and maybe so we are, but we were not rebels in the beginning. Two kings signed the bond: the Parliament passed it. We remained true to our pledged word; the kings forgot theirs, and they call us the law-breakers. And some call us narrow-minded fanatics. Some of us may be; for when the penalty of a man's faith is his death, he may come to lay as much stress on the commas in his creed as on the principles it declares. No man has the right to compromise on the fundamentals."Sometimes I wonder if I had my life to live over again whether I would do as I have done. Maist likely I should, for all through I have let my conscience guide me. I have no regrets, but only a gnawing sorrow that sometimes torments me. I have been in dangers many, and I have never lowered my flag, either to a fear or to a denial of my faith, and yet the Lord has not counted me worthy to win the martyr's crown." His voice broke, and he hesitated for a moment, then went on: "I have fought a good fight; I have almost finished my course, but whether I have kept the faith is no' for me to say. I have tried."The night of Scotland's woe has been long and stormy; but the dawn of a better day is not far off, and she will yet take her place in the forefront of the nations as the land in which the battle for liberty of conscience was fought and won."Look ye," and he pointed to the east, where the darkness was beginning to break as the sun swung up from his bed.CHAPTER XTHE FIELD MEETINGA week passed uneventfully. Each night I joined my friend and the glad notes of his flute were still our signal: each morning we parted to sleep through the daylight hours each in his own hiding-place.I was strangely attracted by this old man. He was a gentle spirit, quick to take offence, often when none was meant, but equally quick to forget. He had a quaint humour, flashes of which lightened our converse as we walked together in the night, and he had all the confidence of a little child in the abiding love of God. As I parted with him one morning, he said:"I doubt you'll no' ken what day of the week this is."I was quick to confess my ignorance."Well," he said, "it is Saturday, and ye'll no' hear me playing the nicht. On such a nicht one is too near the threshold of the Sabbath day lichtly to engage in sic a worldly amusement. However, if ye'll come round to my side of the loch about the usual time, we'll tak' a bite o' supper together--after that ye'd better leave me to my meditations in view of the Lord's Day, for I am preaching the morn.""In which church, may I ask?" I said, forgetting for a moment where I was."In the kirk of the moorland," he answered, "which has no roof but God's heaven, and no altar but the loving hearts of men and women!"A sudden desire sprang up in my heart. "Sir," I said, hesitatingly, "I do not consider myself worthy, but I should count it a high honour if I may come with you."He paused before he answered: "The House is the Lord's, He turns no man from His door: come, an you wish it." Then he laughed, and looking me up and down said: "Man, but you're an awfu' sicht if you are coming. Ye wadna like to appear before Lag in sic unsoldierly trappings: daur ye face God?" Then he laid a hand on my shoulder, and looking into my face with his piercing eyes, said: "The Lord tak's nae pleasure in the looks o' a man, and belike he pays little heed to claes or the beggar at the rich man's gate wouldna have had much of a chance; it is the heart that counts, my lad, it is the heart, and a contrite heart He will not despise." Then he gripped me by the hand, and said: "Awa to your bed and come an' look for me by and by, and syne we'll set out for the kirk. It is a long road to travel and ye'll need a good rest before we start."So I left him and made my way back to my own side of the loch. There I undressed and looked ruefully at my mud-bespattered garments. They certainly were far from that soldierly spotlessness of which I had been so proud when first I donned them. But the mud on them was quite dry, so I made a heather brush, and brushed them well. Then I took them down to the loch-side and washed out some of the more obstinate stains, then laying them to dry among the brackens I sought my bed.When I awoke night had fallen, so, leaving my hiding place, I sought my garments and put them on.I judged that it must be nearly ten o'clock as I went round the head of the loch to seek my friend. I found him awaiting me at our trysting-place and we ate our meal in silence. When we had finished, he said: "Wait for me here; I will come again ere long," and disappeared into the darkness. I sat in the starlit silence watching the moon's fitful light move upon the face of the waters. Many thoughts passed through my mind. I wondered what reception I, in a trooper's uniform, would receive at the hands of the hill-men whom I was shortly to meet. Would the guarantee of the minister be credential sufficient: then a doubt assailed me. I knew that as a deserter I was under penalty of death--but even a deserter, if captured, might still be pardoned; but to have, as a further charge in the indictment against him, that of consorting with proscribed hill-men and taking part in a Conventicle would rob me of the last chance of pardon if I should ever fall into the hands of my pursuers. For a moment I was tempted to withdraw from this new adventure. Then I spurned myself for a coward. I owed my life to the friendliness of this old man, who daily gave me so ungrudgingly of his store, and I felt that it would be base and ungrateful to withdraw now, since, after all, the invitation to accompany him was of my own seeking.The moments passed slowly, and I judged that more than an hour had elapsed since he left me. I began to grow uneasy. Had he lost me in the dark, or had he judged me unworthy to accompany him, and gone off alone? I rose to my feet, determined to make a search for him, when I heard the rustle of his footsteps, and in a moment he was beside me."Did you think I wasna comin' back?" he queried. "I have just been wrestling with a point o' doctrine; but I've got the truth o't now. Come!" and he set out along the hill-side.He walked slowly, absorbed in deep meditation. I followed close on his heels, seeking to make sure of my footsteps by keeping as near him as possible. He seemed in no mood to talk, and I held my tongue.When we had walked for two hours, he stopped suddenly and said: "We are half-way there now. I think that we might take a rest," and he sat down on a hummock on the hill-side.I sat down beside him, and more by way of breaking the silence than from any special desire to talk--for I had little to say, I remarked: "What a beautiful night!"He grunted, and in spite of the darkness I could see him shrug his shoulders with displeasure."Wheesht, man," he said. "This is nae time to speak about sic things. Have ye forgotten it is the Sabbath day?"I was unprepared for such a rebuff, and a hot reply sprang to my lips, but I felt unwilling to hurt his feelings, so I held my tongue.He sat with his knees drawn up towards his chin, his clasped hands holding them, and his eyes fixed on the distance.I stretched myself lazily upon the hill-side and awaited his pleasure.We rested for a long time, and then, as the eastern sky began to break into light, he rose to his feet and saying, "It is time to go on," he set out again. I followed close behind him as before. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, his two thumbs revolving ceaselessly round each other.Out of the ebb of night, day rose like a goddess. Before me was beauty unspeakable. The moorland was covered by a thin vale of mist. Here and there, where the sun was reflected from it, it shone like silver, and where some mischievous hill-wind had torn a rent in it, a splash of brown heath or a tussock of purple heather broke colouringly through. The world was waking up from its slumber. A hare, startled, sprang along the hill-side before us--its ears acock, its body zig-zagging as though to evade some apprehended missile. The whaups called to each other mournfully, and, high above us, unseen, a lark poured out its soul in sparkling song.I was beginning to wonder when we should arrive at our destination, when my companion turned suddenly to the left and walked downhill into the valley. Here, for a time, we followed what had been the bed of an ancient stream, long since dried up, until we came to a cleft between the hills which gradually widened out into a kind of amphitheatre. Almost for the first time since we had left our hiding-place, my companion spoke."This is the trysting-place," he said. "The folk will be here ere long. I'll leave ye while I complete my preparations," and saying "Rest ye," he walked on through the amphitheatre and disappeared.I stretched myself upon my back and drew my bonnet over my eyes. I know not how long I lay thus, but suddenly I was conscious that someone was standing beside me, and opening my eyes I saw the minister at my side."They are beginning to come," he said, as he looked out through the cleft by which we had entered the hollow. My gaze followed his, and I saw at some distance a man of middle age, followed by two younger men, coming in single file towards us. My companion left me and hurried to meet them. I saw him approach the eldest with outstretched hand which was taken and shaken vigorously; then he greeted the two younger men, and the four stood, a little knot in the morning light, talking earnestly.From glances that were cast from time to time in my direction, I knew they were talking of me. The colloquy lasted for some time. My friend was apparently vouching for my trustworthiness with many protestations, for I could see him strike the palm of his left hand with his clenched right fist. At last the minister and the elder man came towards me. The two younger men separated, one climbing to the top of the ridge on one side of the amphitheatre and the other ascending the slope upon its other side.I surmised that these two younger men were to play the part of sentinels to give timely warning, if need arose, of the coming of the dreaded troopers. They had no weapons but shepherd's crooks.As the two elder men approached me, I rose, and as they drew nearer I heard my friend still pleading for me. "I believe that, at heart, he is no' a bad young man, but being English, his opportunities have been few, and he is strangely lacking in a knowledge o' the fundamentals, but I am hoping that he may yet prove to be a brand plucked from the burning."With difficulty I restrained a smile, but I took a step towards them and, bowing to my friend's companion who stood straight-backed and stalwart before me, I said: "My uniform is but a poor passport to your trust, but the heart beneath it is not a false heart and none of your people need fear ill from me."The old man offered me his hand. "Young man," he said, "I hae little cause to trust your coat, but if your creedentials satisfy the meenister, they're guid enough for Tammas Frazer.""That's richt, Thomas!" cried the minister, "that's richt. As the Buik says: 'Charity suffereth long and is kind'!"We stood silent for an embarrassed moment, until the hill-man said: "And noo, Meenister, ye'll gi'e us a word afore I set the kirk in order," and lifting their bonnets the two men closed their eyes.I followed their example, and then the minister lifted up his voice and, in tones of pathetic earnestness, besought the blessing of God upon all the doings of the day; sought, too, for divine protection for all who at the hazard of their lives should come to worship there that Sabbath morning.When the prayer was over, Thomas turned to me, and said: "You are a likely young man and a hefty; we had better leave the man o' God to his meditations. Come and lend me a hand."For a moment I was at a loss to understand what he meant, but I followed him, and when he picked up a small boulder I did likewise and together we carried the stones to the sloping hillside and arranged them at short intervals from each other. Altogether we gathered some thirty or forty stones, which we set in semi-circular rows. Opposite to these, on the other side of the amphitheatre, we built a little mound of boulders and laid upon the top of it a great flat rock. This was to be the preacher's pulpit, and I was struck with the care that Thomas devoted to its building. When it was finished he stood upon it and tested it. Satisfied, he descended from it, saying: "It'll dae fine. There's naething like a guid foundation for a sermon," and in his austere eyes a light flickered.By this time other worshippers had begun to gather and were thronging round the minister in little clusters. From the looks cast in my direction I knew that I was the object of more than one inquiry, and while my recent companion went forward to greet some other of the worshippers, I hung back a little shamefacedly. Seeing my hesitation the minister beckoned me, and when I came near he placed a hand upon my shoulder and said:"My friends, here is the prodigal. He has eaten of the husks of the swine, but, I think, he has at last set his foot on the road to his Father's house."It was a strange introduction, received in silence by the little group, and with a mounting colour I looked at the people and they looked at me. There was a glint of challenge in the eyes of some of the men and a hint of suspicion in others. The older women looked at me with something I took for pity; the younger ones pretended not to look at all. The silence was embarrassing, but it was broken by the minister who said:"And now, my friends, it is time to begin our service. Will you take your places?" and turning to me he said, "Young man, I think ye'd better come and sit near the pulpit, where I can see that ye behave yersel'!"In silence, and with a demure sobriety as though they were crossing the threshold of a holy place, they stepped across the dip in the amphitheatre and seated themselves upon the stones laid ready for them. I walked behind the minister towards his pulpit. A couple of paces from it he stopped and raised his right hand high above his head. On the top of the hill that faced us I saw one of the sentinels spring erect and hold his hand aloft, and turning, we saw that the sentinel on the other hill top had made a like signal. It was a sign that all was well, and that the service might safely begin.The minister mounted his pulpit and I sat down a little below it. In a voice which rang melodiously through the silence he said: "Let us worship God by singing to His praise the 121st psalm." He read the psalm from beginning to end and then the congregation, still sitting, took up the refrain and sang slowly the confident words. It was a psalm which to these hill-folk must have been charged with many memories.There was more of earnestness than of melody in the singing, but suddenly I was aware of one voice that sounded clear and bell-like among the jumble of raucous notes. My ears guided my eyes and I was able to pick the singer out.CHAPTER XIFLOWER O' THE HEATHERShe was a girl of some twenty years who sat on the slope opposite to me. Her features were regular and fine and in strange contrast to the rugged countenances that surrounded her. From underneath the kerchief that snooded her hair a wanton lock of gold strayed over the whiteness of her high forehead. I caught a glimpse of two pink ears set like wild roses among the locks that clustered round them. She sat demurely, unaware of my rapt scrutiny. Her lips were red as ripe cherries, and as she sang I saw behind them the glint of white and regular teeth. Her eyes I could not catch; they were lifted to the distant sky over the hill-tops; her soul was in her singing. One hand rested in her lap, the other hung down by her side, and almost touched the grass beside her rough seat. The open book upon her knees was open for form's sake only. She was singing from her heart and she knew the words without appeal to the printed page. I took my eyes from her with difficulty and let them wander over the little congregation of which she was a part, but I found no face there which could hold them, and quickly they turned again to look upon this winsome maid.She had lowered her eyes now, and as I glanced across at her I met their level gaze. There was a glint of light in them such as I have seen upon a moorland tarn when the sunbeams frolic there, and as I looked at her I was aware that something within me was beating against my ribs like a wild caged bird.When the psalm was ended the minister behind me said solemnly, "Let us pray," and over against me I saw the heads of the congregation bend reverently. Some sat with clasped hands, others buried their faces in the hollow of their palms. My devotions were divided, and before the preacher had completed his sentences of invocation I found myself peeping through my separated fingers at the girl. Her eyes were closed, her dainty hands were clasped delicately. I had never, till that moment, known that the human hand may become as subtle an instrument for expressing the feelings as the human eye. In her clasped hands I saw the rapture of a splendid faith: I saw devotion that would not shrink from death; I saw love and sacrifice.The preacher prayed on, embracing in his petitions the furthest corners of the universe. His words fell on my ears, but I did not hear them, for at that moment my whole world centred in this alluring daughter of the Covenant.Once again I was conscious that my heart was thumping wildly, and I was selfish enough to wonder whether my presence was disturbing her devotions as much as hers was destroying mine. But she gave no sign. The lustrous pools of her eyes were hidden from my gaze behind the dropped lids. So long as she was unaware of it, I felt no hesitation in letting my eyes dwell upon her, to drink in the beauty of her soul-filled face.I was still gazing upon this vision when suddenly the prayer ended. I can tell no more of the service. I only know that in that little band of worshippers I was one of the most fervent--but I fear that I was worshipping one of God's creatures rather than God Himself.After the benediction had been pronounced over the standing congregation, I looked up at the sky and judged that well-nigh three hours must have elapsed since we sang the opening psalm, and to me it had passed in a flash. Never before had I known the minutes fly upon such winged feet.I shook myself out of my dream and turned towards the minister. He had dropped on his knees and was engaged in silent prayer. Unwilling to disturb him, I turned once more toward the congregation which had already arisen from its stony pews and was standing clustered in little knots. I hesitated for a moment, and as I hung uncertain I felt an arm slip through mine. It was the minister."Come," he said, "you must get to know some of my flock. I could tell, my lad, as ye sat at my feet during the service that you were strangely moved."Good honest man! I had been strangely moved, but by other emotions than those for which he gave me credit!As he talked, we had descended the slope and stood in the hollow. The congregation gathered round us; many of the men, and some of the older women, grasped the preacher warmly by the hand. There was no effusiveness in these salutations, but a quiet earnestness that bespoke their love for him."Ye were michty in prayer the day," said one, while I heard another exclaim: "Ye divided the word maist skilfully, sir. The twalfth heid micht ha'e been expanded wi' advantage, but your fourteenth was by-ordinar'. I never heard finer words o' grace, no even frae godly Samuel Rutherford himself. God keep ye, sir." "Ay," said another. "When ye gied oot yer sixth heid says I tae masel', 'Noo, how will he handle that ane: but, sir, ye were maisterfu', an' I was mair than satisfied."These words of praise were accepted by the minister with a modest derogation: "I am but a frail mouthpiece," he said. "The message has suffered through my poor imperfections."In the press around him I was suddenly conscious ofherpresence. I saw his face light up with a smile as he stretched his hand out to her: "Mary, lass," he said, as he drew her towards him, "ye're a woman grown. It seems but yesterday that I baptised you."My eyes were on her face, and I saw the colour mount beneath her healthy brown as she smiled. I felt I would have given all of life that might lie before me had that smile been for me. With ears alert I waited to hear her speak. Softly, and in sweet accents, within whose music there was a note of roguery, she answered:"If the wee ravens didna grow up, wha would bring food to Elijah?"The minister laughed. "It was a fine cheese, Mary, and your oatcakes couldna be bettered in the shire. What say you, young man?" he said, turning to me.The moment I had dreamed of had come, and the eyes of the girl were turned expectantly upon me, and then, fool that I was, any readiness of wit I had, oozed through the soles of my feet and left me standing in the adorable presence, an inarticulate dolt. I mumbled I know not what, but she laughed my confusion aside."If there are twa mouths to fill," she said, "the ravens will ha'e to fly into the wilderness a wee oftener. I maun tell mither."She looked at me, and then with a glint in her beautiful eyes that made me think she had not been altogether unaware of my scrutiny during the service, said: "For a trooper, ye behaved very weel," and then lest I might imagine that I was more to her than the merest insect that hides among the heather, she turned once more to the minister.I was too young then to know that, be she Covenanter's daughter or Court lady, woman is ever the same, with the same arts to provoke, the same witchery to allure, the same artfully artless skill to torture and to heal the heart of man. She had turned away from me, but in doing so she had drawn me closer to herself, and I was rivetted to the ground where I stood, ready to stand there for ever--just to be within sound of her voice, within arm's length of her hand. Suddenly she disentangled herself from the little group and going to its outskirts placed her hand upon the arm of a middle-aged bearded man and brought him to the minister. There was something in the shape of the forehead and eyebrows of the man that made me think he might be her father, and my thought was confirmed when the minister, taking him by the hand, said:"Andrew, you have a daughter to be proud of. Her mither's ain bairn, and a bonnie lass."Her father paid no attention to the compliment, and as though to bring back the thoughts of the man of God from such a worldly object as a pretty girl, said:"And when may we expect ye tae honour our hoose by comin' for the catechisin'?""God willing, I shall be at Daldowie on Friday next, and, Andrew, I'll expect ye to be sounder in the proofs than ye were last time.""And now," he said, turning to me, "we must be going. We have a long road before us. God keep you all. Good-bye," and without another word he strode away. I followed him, and as I passed the girl she glanced at me and her lips moved. I hesitated and stopped, and O wonder! she had stretched out her hand to me."Good-bye," she said. "Tak' care of the minister. Maybe you'll convoy him to the catechisin'.""Trust me," I said. "No harm shall touch a hair of his head if I can fend it off.""Thank you," she replied. "I think I can trust you, in spite o' your coat," and she dropped my hand.That was all: but her words and the trust she was ready to place in me had made my whole world glow. I hurried after the minister, walking on air, and felt sorely tempted to burst into song, but I knew that, on such a day, to have done so would have rendered me suspect of wanton godlessness and I restrained myself; but it was only outwardly. My heart was singing like a clutch of larks, and the rugged hill-side was covered with springing flowers. Once before I had felt the spell of a woman, but never till now had any daughter of Eve cast such a glamour over me. Was it love? Was it love? And if it were--was it love on my side alone? It must be, for how dare I think that a renegade trooper, hall-marked by a uniform that to these simple folk meant blood and death, could awaken in the sweet soul of that innocent girl feelings such as she had stirred within my breast, I pictured her again: I saw her sweet brown eyes, and I remembered the glory of her hair, which for a moment I had seen in all its beauty when her kerchief had slipped back. It was chestnut-brown, coiled in great masses, save just above her brow, where in some mood of whim nature had set a golden curl like an aureole. And as I fondly recalled her features one by one I found myself thinking that behind the demure repose of her face there lurked some elfin roguishness--something elusive that gave her a mysterious charm.I walked on in a maze of dreams, but was called sharply back to earth by the voice of the minister."Where are you going, my lad? Are you making for the border, or where? Our road lies up the brae face," and turning I discovered that, in my dreams, instead of following the minister I was walking obliquely away from him. I ran to rejoin him, but I had no excuse ready to explain my error, nor did he ask for one. We resumed our walk together and in a moment or two he said:"Well, what think you o' a Conventicle?"There was no mental reservation in my reply: "Never, sir, did I so enjoy a religious service.""Enjoy?" he repeated, questioningly. "Enjoy? that is a worldly word to use concerning such a privilege."I looked at him sharply, half suspecting that he had guessed the cause of my appreciation of the field-meeting; but there was nothing in his solemn countenance to make me think he suspected me of duplicity."You English folk," he continued, "have queer ways of using your own language. I can understand a hungry man enjoying a hearty meal; but enjoying a privilege seems wrong. One accepts a privilege with a thankful and humble heart." Then he stopped suddenly, stamping his foot upon the ground. "Alexander Main," he said, "ye're wrong. You are misjudging the young man; ye're growing old, and the sap in your heart is drying up. Shame on you that you should ever doubt that a man may rejoice at being privileged to enter the presence of God." Then he stretched out his hand: "Forgive me, young man. We Scots have perhaps lost our sense of joy in our sense of duty, but we are wrong, wrong, wrong!"His wonted kindliness of heart was bubbling over. My joy had come from a very human source and sorely was I tempted to explain myself: but I held my peace.We took the path again and plodded along the hillside until we came to the top of a long ridge. As we drew near it the minister signalled to me to crouch down, and on his hands and knees he crawled up and peered long and earnestly over the other side. I knew the reason of his caution. If he stood erect on the brow-top his dark figure, sharp-cut against the sky, might be seen by some patrol of troopers on the moorland. His caution brought me back sharply from the land of dreams. He and I were hunted men.Apparently his scrutiny satisfied him, for he turned round and, sitting down, said: "We may rest here awhile." I sat beside him and together we scanned the valley that lay below us. It seemed to be a vast solitude, but as I looked I began to pick out here and there a moving figure, and startled, I called his attention to them. He looked and, after a pause, made answer: "They are only the moorland folk making their ways home. See yonder, that is no trooper, but a woman. Poor, harried sheep! May the Great Shepherd guide them all to the fold of home, and in His own good time to the fold abune." I looked again, scanning the moorland with sharpened eyes in the hope that afar I might catch a glimpse of her whose life had touched mine so tenderly that day; but I could not discern her.I was stirred by a strange desire to talk, and I began to put to my companion questions about some of his flock, and by devious paths I led him to the subject that was really in my heart."Mary," he said, "what would you know about Mary?" and then he smiled. "Oh, that is how the land lies, is it? Well, I'm no' surprised. She's a bonnie lass, and as good as she is bonnie, and a likely lass to take a young man's eye. But put her out of your mind. She's no' for you. The dove maunna' mate wi' the corbie.""She must be a brave woman," I said, "for I understand that she brings us our food.""Wha tell't ye that?" he exclaimed, turning upon me sharply and lapsing into the fashion of speech which was ever his refuge when he was moved."Well, sir," I answered, "you said as much, and I put two and two together.""Did I?" he exclaimed. "Well, ye maun guess nae mair; dinna forget this is the Sabbath day."
CHAPTER VII
THE FLUTE-PLAYER
The moon was breaking through a wreath of clouds when I came to the end of the loch again, and its light guided me to my hiding-place. As I had lain asleep all day, I was in no need of rest, so I set out along the hill-side to stretch my limbs and explore my surroundings further. All was silent, and the face of the loch shone in the moonlight like a silver shield.
The unexpected happenings of the last hour filled my mind. I had been told once and again that the Covenanters were a dour, stubborn pack of kill-joys, with no interests outside the narrow confines of their bigotry. A flute-playing Covenanter--and, withal, a master such as this man had shown himself to be--was something I found it hard, to understand. And more than once since that fatal day at Wigtown I had thought of winsome Margaret Wilson, whose brave blue eyes were of a kind to kindle love in a man's heart. She, the sweet maid, and this soulful musician of the hills, made me think that after all the Covenanters must be human beings with feelings and aspirations, loves and hopes like other men, and were not merely lawless fanatics to be shot like wild cats or drowned like sheep-worrying dogs.
I wondered whether this Covenanter had been hiding on the other side of the loch long before I came; or whether he had been driven by the troopers from some other lair a few hours before and was but a passer-by in the night. No man, in flight, resting for a time would have been so unwary as this flute-player. He must have been there long enough to know that his solitude was unlikely to be disturbed by any sudden arrival of troopers, and, if so, he must have some means of supplying himself with food. An idea seized me. If he, like myself, was a fugitive in hiding I might be able to eke out my diminishing store by procuring from him some of the food which I imagined must be brought to him by friends. But then, how could I expect that one, whose enemies wore the same coat as I did, would grant me this favour. Even if I told him my story, would he believe me?
However, I resolved that, when the morning broke, I would try to make friends with this man: but--my uniform? From his hiding-place he would doubtless observe my approach, and either conceal himself the closer or escape me by flight. Turning the matter over in my mind, I continued my walk along the loch-side, and suddenly, because I was not paying full heed to the manner of my going, my feet sank under me and I was sucked into a bog. A "bottomless" bog so common in these Scottish moors would quickly have solved my difficulties. With no small effort I raised my head above the ooze and slime, withdrew my right arm from the sodden morass, out of which it came with a hideous squelch, and felt all round for some firm tussock of grass or rushes. Luckily finding one, I pulled upon it cautiously, and it held--then more firmly, and still it held. Clinging to it I withdrew my left arm from the morass, and, laying hold on another tussock, after a prolonged and exhausting effort I succeeded in drawing myself up till I was able to rest my arms on a clump of rushes that stood in the heart of the bog. Resting for a little to recover myself, I at last drew myself completely out; and as I stood with my feet planted firmly in the heart of the rushes, I saw a clump of grass, and stepped upon it, and from it, with a quick leap, to the other side. As I stood wet and mud-drenched, it suddenly flashed upon me that this untoward event might turn to my advantage. The brown ooze of the bog would effectually hide the scarlet of my coat. Even if the fugitive on the other side of the loch should see my approach, he would not recognise in this mud-stained wanderer an erstwhile spick-and-span trooper of Lag's Horse.
I made my way carefully to the water edge and washed the bitter ooze from my face and hands. Then I took off my tunic--having first carefully taken from its pockets the remains of my store of food, now all sodden--and laid it on a boulder to dry. Then I paced up and down briskly, till the exercise brought a grateful warmth to my limbs.
I sat down and looked wonderingly over the broad surface of the loch. A wind had sprung up, warm and not unkindly, which caught the surface of the water and drove little plashing waves against the gravel edge. As I listened to their chatter I suddenly heard footsteps close at hand. Throwing myself flat on the ground I waited. Who was it? The Covenanter ought to be at the other side of the loch. Was there another refugee as well as myself on this side, or was it a pursuer who had at last found me, and had I escaped death in the bog only to face it a few days hence against a wall in Wigtown with a firing party before me?
CHAPTER VIII
A COVENANTER'S CHARITY
The footsteps drew nearer and stopped. I had been seen. There was a long pause, then a voice in level, steady tones said: "Are you a kent body in this country-side?"
I rose quickly to my feet and faced the speaker. I could see him as a dark but indistinct figure standing some yards from me on the slope of the brae, but I knew from the lack of austerity in his tones that he was no trooper, and I thought that in all likelihood he would prove to be the player of the flute.
"Need a man answer such a question?" said I. "What right have you to ask who I am?"
"I have no right," he replied, as he drew nearer--"no title but curiosity. Strangers here are few and far between. As for me, I am a shepherd."
"A strange time of night," said I, "for a shepherd to look for his sheep."
"Ay," answered the voice, "and my flock has been scattered by wolves."
"I understand," I said. "You are a minister of the Kirk, a Covenanter, a hill-man in hiding."
He came quite close to me and said: "I'm no' denying that you speak the truth. Who are you?"
"Like you," I replied, "I am a fugitive--a man with a price on his head."
"A Covenanter?"
"No; a deserter from Lag's Horse."
"From Lag's Horse?" he exclaimed, repeating my words. "A deserter?"
Uncertain what to say, I waited. Then he continued:
"May I make so bold as to ask if your desertion is the fruit of conviction of soul, or the outcome of some drunken spree?"
I have not the Scottish faculty for analysing my motives, and I hardly knew what to say. Was I a penitent, ashamed and sorry for the evil things in which I had played a part, or did I desert merely to escape punishment for my part in the drunken brawl in the tavern? I had not yet made a serious attempt to assess the matter; and here, taken at unawares in the stillness of the night among the silent hills, I was conscious of the near presence of God before whose bar I was arraigned by this quiet interlocutor.
"I am wet to the skin and chilled to the bone, for only an hour ago I foundered in a bog, but if you will walk with me," I said, "I will tell you the story and you shall judge."
"It is not for man to judge, for he cannot read the heart aright, but if you will tell me your story I will know as much of you as you seem already to know of me," he said, as he took me by the arm. "Like you," he continued, "I am a fugitive; and if you are likely to stop for long in this hiding-place, it were well that we should understand each other."
As we paced up and down, I told him the whole shameful tale.
When I had finished he sat down on the hill-side and, burying his face in his hands, was silent for a space. Then he rose, and laying a hand upon my shoulder peered into my face. The darkness was yet too great for us to see each other clearly, but his eyes were glistening.
"It is not," he said, "for me to judge. God knows! but I am thinking that your desertion was more than a whim, though I would not go the length of saying that you have repented with tears for the evil you have done. May God forgive you, and may grace be given you to turn ere it is too late from the paths of the wicked."
As I told him my story I had feared that when he heard it he would have nothing more to do with me: but I had misjudged his charity. Suddenly he held his hand out to me, saying:
"Providence has cast us together, mayhap that your soul may be saved, and mine kept from withering. I am ready to be your friend if you will be mine."
I took his outstretched hand. I had longed for his friendship for my own selfish ends, and he, who had nothing to gain from my friendship, offered me his freely.
The night had worn thin as we talked, and now in the growing light I could see my companion more clearly. He seemed a man well past middle life; before long I was to learn that he was more than three score years and ten, but neither at this moment nor later should I have imagined it. He was straight as a ramrod, spare of body and pallid of face, save where on his high cheek-bones the moorland wind and the rays of the summer sun had burned him brown. The hair of his head was black, streaked here and there by a few scanty threads of silver. His forehead was broad and high, his nose was well-formed and somewhat aquiline, and his brown eyes were full of light. It was to his eyes and to his mouth, around which there seemed to lurk some wistful playfulness, that his face owed its attraction. He was without doubt a handsome man--I have rarely seen a handsomer.
As I peered into his face and looked him up and down, somewhat rudely I fear, he was studying me with care. My woebegone appearance seemed to amuse him, for when his scrutiny was over he said:
"Ye're no' ill-faured: but I'm thinking Lag would be ill-pleased if he saw one of his dragoons in sic a mess."
"I trust he won't," I said with fervour, and my companion laughed heartily.
He laid a hand upon my arm, and with a twinkle in his eye said: "The old Book says: 'If thine enemy hunger, feed him.' Have you anything to eat?"
I showed him what I had and invited him to help himself, as I picked up my tunic and slipped it on.
"No, no," he replied, "I am better provided than you. The Lord that sent the ravens to Elijah has spread for me a table in the wilderness and my cup runneth over. Come with me and let us break our fast together. They do say that to eat a man's salt thirls another to him as a friend. I have no salt to offer you, but"--and he smiled--"I have plenty of mutton ham, and I am thinking you will find that salt enough."
The light was rapidly flooding the hill-side as we took our way round to his side of the loch.
"Bide here a minute," he said, as he left me beside a granite boulder.
I guessed that, with native caution, he was as yet averse to let me see his resting-place, or the place in which he stored his food. In my heart of hearts the slight stung me, and then I realised that I had no right to expect that a Covenanter should trust me absolutely, on the instant. In a few moments he was back again, and I was amazed at the quantity of food he brought with him. It was wrapped in a fair cloth of linen, which he spread carefully on the hill-side, arranging the food upon it. There were farles of oatcake, and scones, besides the remains of a goodly leg of mutton. When the feast was spread he stood up and taking off his bonnet began to pray aloud. I listened till he had finished his lengthy prayer, refraining from laying hands upon any of the toothsome food that lay before me. When he had ground out a long "Amen," he opened his eyes and replaced his bonnet. Then he cut a generous slice of mutton and passed it to me.
"I never break my fast," he said, "without thanking God, and I am glad to see that you are a well-mannered young man. I dare hardly have expected so much from a trooper."
"Ah," I answered, "I have had advantages denied to most of the troopers."
He nodded his head, and lapsing into the speech of the country-side, as I had yet to learn was his wont whenever his feelings were stirred, he said:
"That reminds me of what once befell mair than thirty years sin' when I was daunnerin' along the road from Kirkcudbright to Causewayend. It was a summer day just like this, and on the road I foregathered wi' a sailor-body that had come off a schooner in Kirkcudbright. We walked along and cracked, and I found him, like every other sailor-man, to be an interesting chiel. By and by we cam' to a roadside inn. I asked him to join me in a bite and sup. The inn-keeper's lass brocht us scones and cheese and a dram apiece, and when they were set afore us, I, as is my custom, took off my bonnet and proceeded to thank the Lord for these temporal mercies. When I opened ma een I found that my braw sailor lad had gulped doon my dram as weel as his ain, while I was asking the blessing. 'What dae ye mean by sic a ploy?' says I; but the edge was ta'en off ma anger when the sailor-man, wiping his moo' wi' the back o' his haun', said, 'Weel, sir, the guid Book says ye should watch as weel as pray.'"
At the memory of the trick played upon him my companion burst into laughter, and I have rarely heard a happier laugh.
He was a generous host, and pressed me to take my fill.
"There is plenty for us both," he said. "Dinna be blate, my lad, help yersel'." Then as he offered me another slice of mutton, he said: "I am thinking that the ravens are kinder to me than they were to Elijah, for, so far as I know, they never brocht him a mutton ham. But who ever heard o' a braxy sheep in the wilds o' Mount Carmel!" and he laughed again.
When our meal was over he looked me up and down again. I could see that he was distressed at the condition of my clothing, but I explained to him that I considered my fall into the bog a blessing in disguise, since it toned down the bright colour of my garments and would make them less easily seen upon the moorland.
"That's as may be, but ye're an awfu' sicht. However, I've no doubt that when the glaur dries it winna look so bad."
As he talked I was divesting myself of my uniform, and as I stood before him in my shirt he looked me over again and said: "You might disguise yourself by making a kilt out o' your coat, but twa sic' spindle shanks o' legs would gi'e you awa' at once. I know well, since ye're an Englishman, ye werena' brought up on the carritches, and I can see for myself ye got no oatmeal when ye were a bairn."
I laughed, as I tossed my last garment aside, and running to the edge of the loch plunged into its depths. He watched me as I swam, and when I came to the shore again I found him drying my outer garments over a fire which he had kindled.
"It'll be time for bed," he said, "in a few minutes. You take your ways to your own hidie-hole and I will take my way to mine; and may God send us sweet repose. No man can tell, but I am thinking there will be no troopers up here the day. They combed this loch-side a fortnight sin', and when they had gone I came and hid here. Maist likely they'll no' be back here for a long time."
I thanked him for his hospitality, and as I turned to go I said: "Where shall I find you to-night, for I should like to have more of your company?"
"Well," he answered, "I always sleep on this side of the loch; and when night falls and a' thing seems safe, it is mair than likely ye'll hear me playing a bit tune on the flute. When ye hear that, if ye come round to this side and just wait a wee, ye'll likely see me again. Good morning! and God bless you!"
CHAPTER IX
THE STORY OF ALEXANDER MAIN
I made for my hiding-place, and, snugly covered up in my lair, I was soon asleep. In the late afternoon I awoke. What it was that woke me I know not, but as I lay half-conscious in the dreamy shallows that lie around the sea of sleep, I heard something stir among the brackens not far from me. I raised myself on an elbow, and separating the fronds above me gazed in the direction from which the sound came. Less than a score of paces away a winsome girl was tripping briskly along the hill-side. Her head was crowned with masses of chestnut-brown hair which glistened with a golden sheen where the sunlight caught it. Over her shoulders was flung lightly a plaid of shepherd's tartan. Her gown was of a dull reddish colour, and she walked lightly, with elastic step. I was not near enough, nor dare I, lest I should be seen, crane my neck beyond my hiding-place to see her features clearly, but I could tell that she was fair to look upon. My eyes followed her wistfully as she rapidly ascended the slope, but in a moment she was out of sight over its crest. I wondered who she could be. This mountain fastness was a place of strange surprises. I pondered long but could find no light, so I settled myself to sleep again; but ere I slept there flitted through my waking dreams the vision of a winsome maid with hair a glory of sun-kissed brown.
On waking, my first thought was of her, and anxiously and half-hopefully I peeped into the gathering darkness to see if she had come back again; but there was nothing to see except the beds of heather, purple in the gathering twilight, and the grey shadows of the granite rocks scattered along the hill-side.
I judged that the time had come when I might with safety issue from my hiding-place, so I ventured forth. Sitting down upon the hill-side I helped myself to some of my rapidly diminishing food. As I did so, I thought with gratitude of the hermit on the other side of the loch, who, of his large charity, had made me free of his ample stores.
And then the truth flashed upon me--the little bird which brought his food was no repulsive, croaking raven, but a graceful heather-lintie--the girl whom I had seen that afternoon.
When I had finished eating, I went down to the edge of the loch and, stooping, drank. Then I returned to my seat and waited. The stars were coming out one by one, and the horn of the moon was just appearing like the point of a silver sickle above a bank of clouds when I heard the music of the flute. It pulsated with a haunting beauty, like some elfin melody which the semi-darkness and the intervening water conspired to render strangely sweet. Evidently the player was in a happy mood, for his notes were instinct with joy, and, though they lacked that mystic sadness which had so thrilled me a night ago, they cast a glamour over me. When the music ceased I tarried for a space, for I had no desire to break in upon the devotions of my friend; but by and by I made my way round to the other side of the loch.
I found the hermit awaiting me. He bade me "Good e'en" and asked if I had had anything to eat. I told him that I had already satisfied my hunger.
"That is a pity," he said, "for the ravens have been kind to-day and have brought me a little Galloway cheese forby twa or three girdles-fu' o' guid, crisp oatcake; by the morn they'll no' be so tasty, so just try a corner and a wee bit o' cheese along with me."
Little loth, I assented, and soon I was enjoying some of his toothsome store. I ate sparingly, for I had already blunted the edge of my hunger and I had no wish to abuse his generosity. As I nibbled the crisp oatcake I thought of the girl I had seen on the hill-side, and in a fit of curiosity said: "I have been thinking that though the Lord sent the ravens to feed Elijah, he has been sending somebody bonnier and blither to feed you--in fact no raven, but a heather-lintie!"
He looked at me quickly, and replied: "I am no' sayin' yea or nay; and at any rate you have no call to exercise your mind with what doesna concern you."
The rebuke was a just one and I was sorry for my offence.
When our meal was over, he took me by the arm. "What say you to a walk by the light o' the moon?" he asked. "I'll guarantee you will fall into no more bogs, for I know every foot of these hills as well as I know the palm of my hand."
"Your pleasure is mine," I said. So we set out, and as we went he talked.
"Last night," he said, "you told me your story; to-night, if you care to listen, I will tell you mine.
"I am an older man by far than you are, and I will never see the three-score and ten again. As my days so has my strength been. I have seen a feck of things and taken part in many a deed that will help to make history. You may think I boast myself, but listen. My name is Alexander Main, and, as you ken, I am a minister of the Kirk of Scotland. The year 1638 saw me a student in the Glasgow College--that is long syne, and they were stirring times. Ye may have heard of that great gathering in the Greyfriars Kirk at Edinburgh on the last day of February 1638, when we swore and put our names to the National Covenant. It was a great day. The crowd filled kirk and yard. Well do I mind the gallant Warriston reading the Covenant, much of which had come glowing from his own pen--but most of all I mind the silence that fell upon us when the reading was over. Then the good Earl of Sutherland stepped forward and put his name to it, and man followed man, each eager to pledge himself to the bond. Some of us, I mind well, wrote after their names the words 'Till death,' and others signed it with their blood."
"And what might this Covenant be?" I asked.
"Ah," he said, "I had forgotten. Briefly the bond was this: 'to adhere to and defend the true religion of Presbyterianism, and to labour to recover the purity and liberty of the Gospel as it was established and professed in the Kingdom of Scotland.' It was to put an end to all endeavours to foist prelacy upon us and to signify our adherence to the Presbyterian form of Church-government which King James himself had sworn to uphold in this Kingdom of Scotland, that we put our names to the bond. Not that we were against the King, for in the Covenant it was written plain that we were ready with our lives to stand to the defence of our dread sovereign, the King's Majesty. The wave of fervour spread like a holy fire from that old kirkyard through the length and breadth of Scotland, and the noblest blood in the land and the flower of its intellect signed the Covenant. Later on there came a day when those who stood for liberty of conscience in England as well as Scotland made a compact. That was the Solemn League and Covenant, whereby we bound ourselves to preserve a reformed religion in the Church of Scotland. The memory of man is short, and it has almost been forgotten that the solemn league was a joint Scottish and English affair, and that it was ratified by the English Parliament. These things were the beginning, but since then this puir kingdom has passed through the fire."
He paused and sighed deeply, then picking up the thread of his words again he told me the chequered history of the Covenanters for close on fifty years. It was a story that thrilled me--a record of suffering, of high endeavour, of grievous wrong. Of his own sufferings he made little, though he had suffered sore, and I, who had never felt the call to sacrifice myself for a principle, was humbled to the dust as I listened. He spoke in accents tense with emotion, and sometimes his voice rang with pride. I was too spell-bound to interrupt him, though many questions were upon my lips.
At last he ceased, as though the memories he was recalling had overwhelmed him, then he resumed:
"So, in some sort, my story is the story of puir auld Scotland, for the past fifty years. It is a tragedy, and the pity is--a needless tragedy! If the rulers of a land would study history and human nature, it would save them from muckle wrong-doing and oppression. It has been tried before and, I doubt not, it will be tried many a time again, but it will never succeed--for no tyrant can destroy the soul of a people by brute force. They call us rebels, and maybe so we are, but we were not rebels in the beginning. Two kings signed the bond: the Parliament passed it. We remained true to our pledged word; the kings forgot theirs, and they call us the law-breakers. And some call us narrow-minded fanatics. Some of us may be; for when the penalty of a man's faith is his death, he may come to lay as much stress on the commas in his creed as on the principles it declares. No man has the right to compromise on the fundamentals.
"Sometimes I wonder if I had my life to live over again whether I would do as I have done. Maist likely I should, for all through I have let my conscience guide me. I have no regrets, but only a gnawing sorrow that sometimes torments me. I have been in dangers many, and I have never lowered my flag, either to a fear or to a denial of my faith, and yet the Lord has not counted me worthy to win the martyr's crown." His voice broke, and he hesitated for a moment, then went on: "I have fought a good fight; I have almost finished my course, but whether I have kept the faith is no' for me to say. I have tried.
"The night of Scotland's woe has been long and stormy; but the dawn of a better day is not far off, and she will yet take her place in the forefront of the nations as the land in which the battle for liberty of conscience was fought and won.
"Look ye," and he pointed to the east, where the darkness was beginning to break as the sun swung up from his bed.
CHAPTER X
THE FIELD MEETING
A week passed uneventfully. Each night I joined my friend and the glad notes of his flute were still our signal: each morning we parted to sleep through the daylight hours each in his own hiding-place.
I was strangely attracted by this old man. He was a gentle spirit, quick to take offence, often when none was meant, but equally quick to forget. He had a quaint humour, flashes of which lightened our converse as we walked together in the night, and he had all the confidence of a little child in the abiding love of God. As I parted with him one morning, he said:
"I doubt you'll no' ken what day of the week this is."
I was quick to confess my ignorance.
"Well," he said, "it is Saturday, and ye'll no' hear me playing the nicht. On such a nicht one is too near the threshold of the Sabbath day lichtly to engage in sic a worldly amusement. However, if ye'll come round to my side of the loch about the usual time, we'll tak' a bite o' supper together--after that ye'd better leave me to my meditations in view of the Lord's Day, for I am preaching the morn."
"In which church, may I ask?" I said, forgetting for a moment where I was.
"In the kirk of the moorland," he answered, "which has no roof but God's heaven, and no altar but the loving hearts of men and women!"
A sudden desire sprang up in my heart. "Sir," I said, hesitatingly, "I do not consider myself worthy, but I should count it a high honour if I may come with you."
He paused before he answered: "The House is the Lord's, He turns no man from His door: come, an you wish it." Then he laughed, and looking me up and down said: "Man, but you're an awfu' sicht if you are coming. Ye wadna like to appear before Lag in sic unsoldierly trappings: daur ye face God?" Then he laid a hand on my shoulder, and looking into my face with his piercing eyes, said: "The Lord tak's nae pleasure in the looks o' a man, and belike he pays little heed to claes or the beggar at the rich man's gate wouldna have had much of a chance; it is the heart that counts, my lad, it is the heart, and a contrite heart He will not despise." Then he gripped me by the hand, and said: "Awa to your bed and come an' look for me by and by, and syne we'll set out for the kirk. It is a long road to travel and ye'll need a good rest before we start."
So I left him and made my way back to my own side of the loch. There I undressed and looked ruefully at my mud-bespattered garments. They certainly were far from that soldierly spotlessness of which I had been so proud when first I donned them. But the mud on them was quite dry, so I made a heather brush, and brushed them well. Then I took them down to the loch-side and washed out some of the more obstinate stains, then laying them to dry among the brackens I sought my bed.
When I awoke night had fallen, so, leaving my hiding place, I sought my garments and put them on.
I judged that it must be nearly ten o'clock as I went round the head of the loch to seek my friend. I found him awaiting me at our trysting-place and we ate our meal in silence. When we had finished, he said: "Wait for me here; I will come again ere long," and disappeared into the darkness. I sat in the starlit silence watching the moon's fitful light move upon the face of the waters. Many thoughts passed through my mind. I wondered what reception I, in a trooper's uniform, would receive at the hands of the hill-men whom I was shortly to meet. Would the guarantee of the minister be credential sufficient: then a doubt assailed me. I knew that as a deserter I was under penalty of death--but even a deserter, if captured, might still be pardoned; but to have, as a further charge in the indictment against him, that of consorting with proscribed hill-men and taking part in a Conventicle would rob me of the last chance of pardon if I should ever fall into the hands of my pursuers. For a moment I was tempted to withdraw from this new adventure. Then I spurned myself for a coward. I owed my life to the friendliness of this old man, who daily gave me so ungrudgingly of his store, and I felt that it would be base and ungrateful to withdraw now, since, after all, the invitation to accompany him was of my own seeking.
The moments passed slowly, and I judged that more than an hour had elapsed since he left me. I began to grow uneasy. Had he lost me in the dark, or had he judged me unworthy to accompany him, and gone off alone? I rose to my feet, determined to make a search for him, when I heard the rustle of his footsteps, and in a moment he was beside me.
"Did you think I wasna comin' back?" he queried. "I have just been wrestling with a point o' doctrine; but I've got the truth o't now. Come!" and he set out along the hill-side.
He walked slowly, absorbed in deep meditation. I followed close on his heels, seeking to make sure of my footsteps by keeping as near him as possible. He seemed in no mood to talk, and I held my tongue.
When we had walked for two hours, he stopped suddenly and said: "We are half-way there now. I think that we might take a rest," and he sat down on a hummock on the hill-side.
I sat down beside him, and more by way of breaking the silence than from any special desire to talk--for I had little to say, I remarked: "What a beautiful night!"
He grunted, and in spite of the darkness I could see him shrug his shoulders with displeasure.
"Wheesht, man," he said. "This is nae time to speak about sic things. Have ye forgotten it is the Sabbath day?"
I was unprepared for such a rebuff, and a hot reply sprang to my lips, but I felt unwilling to hurt his feelings, so I held my tongue.
He sat with his knees drawn up towards his chin, his clasped hands holding them, and his eyes fixed on the distance.
I stretched myself lazily upon the hill-side and awaited his pleasure.
We rested for a long time, and then, as the eastern sky began to break into light, he rose to his feet and saying, "It is time to go on," he set out again. I followed close behind him as before. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, his two thumbs revolving ceaselessly round each other.
Out of the ebb of night, day rose like a goddess. Before me was beauty unspeakable. The moorland was covered by a thin vale of mist. Here and there, where the sun was reflected from it, it shone like silver, and where some mischievous hill-wind had torn a rent in it, a splash of brown heath or a tussock of purple heather broke colouringly through. The world was waking up from its slumber. A hare, startled, sprang along the hill-side before us--its ears acock, its body zig-zagging as though to evade some apprehended missile. The whaups called to each other mournfully, and, high above us, unseen, a lark poured out its soul in sparkling song.
I was beginning to wonder when we should arrive at our destination, when my companion turned suddenly to the left and walked downhill into the valley. Here, for a time, we followed what had been the bed of an ancient stream, long since dried up, until we came to a cleft between the hills which gradually widened out into a kind of amphitheatre. Almost for the first time since we had left our hiding-place, my companion spoke.
"This is the trysting-place," he said. "The folk will be here ere long. I'll leave ye while I complete my preparations," and saying "Rest ye," he walked on through the amphitheatre and disappeared.
I stretched myself upon my back and drew my bonnet over my eyes. I know not how long I lay thus, but suddenly I was conscious that someone was standing beside me, and opening my eyes I saw the minister at my side.
"They are beginning to come," he said, as he looked out through the cleft by which we had entered the hollow. My gaze followed his, and I saw at some distance a man of middle age, followed by two younger men, coming in single file towards us. My companion left me and hurried to meet them. I saw him approach the eldest with outstretched hand which was taken and shaken vigorously; then he greeted the two younger men, and the four stood, a little knot in the morning light, talking earnestly.
From glances that were cast from time to time in my direction, I knew they were talking of me. The colloquy lasted for some time. My friend was apparently vouching for my trustworthiness with many protestations, for I could see him strike the palm of his left hand with his clenched right fist. At last the minister and the elder man came towards me. The two younger men separated, one climbing to the top of the ridge on one side of the amphitheatre and the other ascending the slope upon its other side.
I surmised that these two younger men were to play the part of sentinels to give timely warning, if need arose, of the coming of the dreaded troopers. They had no weapons but shepherd's crooks.
As the two elder men approached me, I rose, and as they drew nearer I heard my friend still pleading for me. "I believe that, at heart, he is no' a bad young man, but being English, his opportunities have been few, and he is strangely lacking in a knowledge o' the fundamentals, but I am hoping that he may yet prove to be a brand plucked from the burning."
With difficulty I restrained a smile, but I took a step towards them and, bowing to my friend's companion who stood straight-backed and stalwart before me, I said: "My uniform is but a poor passport to your trust, but the heart beneath it is not a false heart and none of your people need fear ill from me."
The old man offered me his hand. "Young man," he said, "I hae little cause to trust your coat, but if your creedentials satisfy the meenister, they're guid enough for Tammas Frazer."
"That's richt, Thomas!" cried the minister, "that's richt. As the Buik says: 'Charity suffereth long and is kind'!"
We stood silent for an embarrassed moment, until the hill-man said: "And noo, Meenister, ye'll gi'e us a word afore I set the kirk in order," and lifting their bonnets the two men closed their eyes.
I followed their example, and then the minister lifted up his voice and, in tones of pathetic earnestness, besought the blessing of God upon all the doings of the day; sought, too, for divine protection for all who at the hazard of their lives should come to worship there that Sabbath morning.
When the prayer was over, Thomas turned to me, and said: "You are a likely young man and a hefty; we had better leave the man o' God to his meditations. Come and lend me a hand."
For a moment I was at a loss to understand what he meant, but I followed him, and when he picked up a small boulder I did likewise and together we carried the stones to the sloping hillside and arranged them at short intervals from each other. Altogether we gathered some thirty or forty stones, which we set in semi-circular rows. Opposite to these, on the other side of the amphitheatre, we built a little mound of boulders and laid upon the top of it a great flat rock. This was to be the preacher's pulpit, and I was struck with the care that Thomas devoted to its building. When it was finished he stood upon it and tested it. Satisfied, he descended from it, saying: "It'll dae fine. There's naething like a guid foundation for a sermon," and in his austere eyes a light flickered.
By this time other worshippers had begun to gather and were thronging round the minister in little clusters. From the looks cast in my direction I knew that I was the object of more than one inquiry, and while my recent companion went forward to greet some other of the worshippers, I hung back a little shamefacedly. Seeing my hesitation the minister beckoned me, and when I came near he placed a hand upon my shoulder and said:
"My friends, here is the prodigal. He has eaten of the husks of the swine, but, I think, he has at last set his foot on the road to his Father's house."
It was a strange introduction, received in silence by the little group, and with a mounting colour I looked at the people and they looked at me. There was a glint of challenge in the eyes of some of the men and a hint of suspicion in others. The older women looked at me with something I took for pity; the younger ones pretended not to look at all. The silence was embarrassing, but it was broken by the minister who said:
"And now, my friends, it is time to begin our service. Will you take your places?" and turning to me he said, "Young man, I think ye'd better come and sit near the pulpit, where I can see that ye behave yersel'!"
In silence, and with a demure sobriety as though they were crossing the threshold of a holy place, they stepped across the dip in the amphitheatre and seated themselves upon the stones laid ready for them. I walked behind the minister towards his pulpit. A couple of paces from it he stopped and raised his right hand high above his head. On the top of the hill that faced us I saw one of the sentinels spring erect and hold his hand aloft, and turning, we saw that the sentinel on the other hill top had made a like signal. It was a sign that all was well, and that the service might safely begin.
The minister mounted his pulpit and I sat down a little below it. In a voice which rang melodiously through the silence he said: "Let us worship God by singing to His praise the 121st psalm." He read the psalm from beginning to end and then the congregation, still sitting, took up the refrain and sang slowly the confident words. It was a psalm which to these hill-folk must have been charged with many memories.
There was more of earnestness than of melody in the singing, but suddenly I was aware of one voice that sounded clear and bell-like among the jumble of raucous notes. My ears guided my eyes and I was able to pick the singer out.
CHAPTER XI
FLOWER O' THE HEATHER
She was a girl of some twenty years who sat on the slope opposite to me. Her features were regular and fine and in strange contrast to the rugged countenances that surrounded her. From underneath the kerchief that snooded her hair a wanton lock of gold strayed over the whiteness of her high forehead. I caught a glimpse of two pink ears set like wild roses among the locks that clustered round them. She sat demurely, unaware of my rapt scrutiny. Her lips were red as ripe cherries, and as she sang I saw behind them the glint of white and regular teeth. Her eyes I could not catch; they were lifted to the distant sky over the hill-tops; her soul was in her singing. One hand rested in her lap, the other hung down by her side, and almost touched the grass beside her rough seat. The open book upon her knees was open for form's sake only. She was singing from her heart and she knew the words without appeal to the printed page. I took my eyes from her with difficulty and let them wander over the little congregation of which she was a part, but I found no face there which could hold them, and quickly they turned again to look upon this winsome maid.
She had lowered her eyes now, and as I glanced across at her I met their level gaze. There was a glint of light in them such as I have seen upon a moorland tarn when the sunbeams frolic there, and as I looked at her I was aware that something within me was beating against my ribs like a wild caged bird.
When the psalm was ended the minister behind me said solemnly, "Let us pray," and over against me I saw the heads of the congregation bend reverently. Some sat with clasped hands, others buried their faces in the hollow of their palms. My devotions were divided, and before the preacher had completed his sentences of invocation I found myself peeping through my separated fingers at the girl. Her eyes were closed, her dainty hands were clasped delicately. I had never, till that moment, known that the human hand may become as subtle an instrument for expressing the feelings as the human eye. In her clasped hands I saw the rapture of a splendid faith: I saw devotion that would not shrink from death; I saw love and sacrifice.
The preacher prayed on, embracing in his petitions the furthest corners of the universe. His words fell on my ears, but I did not hear them, for at that moment my whole world centred in this alluring daughter of the Covenant.
Once again I was conscious that my heart was thumping wildly, and I was selfish enough to wonder whether my presence was disturbing her devotions as much as hers was destroying mine. But she gave no sign. The lustrous pools of her eyes were hidden from my gaze behind the dropped lids. So long as she was unaware of it, I felt no hesitation in letting my eyes dwell upon her, to drink in the beauty of her soul-filled face.
I was still gazing upon this vision when suddenly the prayer ended. I can tell no more of the service. I only know that in that little band of worshippers I was one of the most fervent--but I fear that I was worshipping one of God's creatures rather than God Himself.
After the benediction had been pronounced over the standing congregation, I looked up at the sky and judged that well-nigh three hours must have elapsed since we sang the opening psalm, and to me it had passed in a flash. Never before had I known the minutes fly upon such winged feet.
I shook myself out of my dream and turned towards the minister. He had dropped on his knees and was engaged in silent prayer. Unwilling to disturb him, I turned once more toward the congregation which had already arisen from its stony pews and was standing clustered in little knots. I hesitated for a moment, and as I hung uncertain I felt an arm slip through mine. It was the minister.
"Come," he said, "you must get to know some of my flock. I could tell, my lad, as ye sat at my feet during the service that you were strangely moved."
Good honest man! I had been strangely moved, but by other emotions than those for which he gave me credit!
As he talked, we had descended the slope and stood in the hollow. The congregation gathered round us; many of the men, and some of the older women, grasped the preacher warmly by the hand. There was no effusiveness in these salutations, but a quiet earnestness that bespoke their love for him.
"Ye were michty in prayer the day," said one, while I heard another exclaim: "Ye divided the word maist skilfully, sir. The twalfth heid micht ha'e been expanded wi' advantage, but your fourteenth was by-ordinar'. I never heard finer words o' grace, no even frae godly Samuel Rutherford himself. God keep ye, sir." "Ay," said another. "When ye gied oot yer sixth heid says I tae masel', 'Noo, how will he handle that ane: but, sir, ye were maisterfu', an' I was mair than satisfied."
These words of praise were accepted by the minister with a modest derogation: "I am but a frail mouthpiece," he said. "The message has suffered through my poor imperfections."
In the press around him I was suddenly conscious ofherpresence. I saw his face light up with a smile as he stretched his hand out to her: "Mary, lass," he said, as he drew her towards him, "ye're a woman grown. It seems but yesterday that I baptised you."
My eyes were on her face, and I saw the colour mount beneath her healthy brown as she smiled. I felt I would have given all of life that might lie before me had that smile been for me. With ears alert I waited to hear her speak. Softly, and in sweet accents, within whose music there was a note of roguery, she answered:
"If the wee ravens didna grow up, wha would bring food to Elijah?"
The minister laughed. "It was a fine cheese, Mary, and your oatcakes couldna be bettered in the shire. What say you, young man?" he said, turning to me.
The moment I had dreamed of had come, and the eyes of the girl were turned expectantly upon me, and then, fool that I was, any readiness of wit I had, oozed through the soles of my feet and left me standing in the adorable presence, an inarticulate dolt. I mumbled I know not what, but she laughed my confusion aside.
"If there are twa mouths to fill," she said, "the ravens will ha'e to fly into the wilderness a wee oftener. I maun tell mither."
She looked at me, and then with a glint in her beautiful eyes that made me think she had not been altogether unaware of my scrutiny during the service, said: "For a trooper, ye behaved very weel," and then lest I might imagine that I was more to her than the merest insect that hides among the heather, she turned once more to the minister.
I was too young then to know that, be she Covenanter's daughter or Court lady, woman is ever the same, with the same arts to provoke, the same witchery to allure, the same artfully artless skill to torture and to heal the heart of man. She had turned away from me, but in doing so she had drawn me closer to herself, and I was rivetted to the ground where I stood, ready to stand there for ever--just to be within sound of her voice, within arm's length of her hand. Suddenly she disentangled herself from the little group and going to its outskirts placed her hand upon the arm of a middle-aged bearded man and brought him to the minister. There was something in the shape of the forehead and eyebrows of the man that made me think he might be her father, and my thought was confirmed when the minister, taking him by the hand, said:
"Andrew, you have a daughter to be proud of. Her mither's ain bairn, and a bonnie lass."
Her father paid no attention to the compliment, and as though to bring back the thoughts of the man of God from such a worldly object as a pretty girl, said:
"And when may we expect ye tae honour our hoose by comin' for the catechisin'?"
"God willing, I shall be at Daldowie on Friday next, and, Andrew, I'll expect ye to be sounder in the proofs than ye were last time."
"And now," he said, turning to me, "we must be going. We have a long road before us. God keep you all. Good-bye," and without another word he strode away. I followed him, and as I passed the girl she glanced at me and her lips moved. I hesitated and stopped, and O wonder! she had stretched out her hand to me.
"Good-bye," she said. "Tak' care of the minister. Maybe you'll convoy him to the catechisin'."
"Trust me," I said. "No harm shall touch a hair of his head if I can fend it off."
"Thank you," she replied. "I think I can trust you, in spite o' your coat," and she dropped my hand.
That was all: but her words and the trust she was ready to place in me had made my whole world glow. I hurried after the minister, walking on air, and felt sorely tempted to burst into song, but I knew that, on such a day, to have done so would have rendered me suspect of wanton godlessness and I restrained myself; but it was only outwardly. My heart was singing like a clutch of larks, and the rugged hill-side was covered with springing flowers. Once before I had felt the spell of a woman, but never till now had any daughter of Eve cast such a glamour over me. Was it love? Was it love? And if it were--was it love on my side alone? It must be, for how dare I think that a renegade trooper, hall-marked by a uniform that to these simple folk meant blood and death, could awaken in the sweet soul of that innocent girl feelings such as she had stirred within my breast, I pictured her again: I saw her sweet brown eyes, and I remembered the glory of her hair, which for a moment I had seen in all its beauty when her kerchief had slipped back. It was chestnut-brown, coiled in great masses, save just above her brow, where in some mood of whim nature had set a golden curl like an aureole. And as I fondly recalled her features one by one I found myself thinking that behind the demure repose of her face there lurked some elfin roguishness--something elusive that gave her a mysterious charm.
I walked on in a maze of dreams, but was called sharply back to earth by the voice of the minister.
"Where are you going, my lad? Are you making for the border, or where? Our road lies up the brae face," and turning I discovered that, in my dreams, instead of following the minister I was walking obliquely away from him. I ran to rejoin him, but I had no excuse ready to explain my error, nor did he ask for one. We resumed our walk together and in a moment or two he said:
"Well, what think you o' a Conventicle?"
There was no mental reservation in my reply: "Never, sir, did I so enjoy a religious service."
"Enjoy?" he repeated, questioningly. "Enjoy? that is a worldly word to use concerning such a privilege."
I looked at him sharply, half suspecting that he had guessed the cause of my appreciation of the field-meeting; but there was nothing in his solemn countenance to make me think he suspected me of duplicity.
"You English folk," he continued, "have queer ways of using your own language. I can understand a hungry man enjoying a hearty meal; but enjoying a privilege seems wrong. One accepts a privilege with a thankful and humble heart." Then he stopped suddenly, stamping his foot upon the ground. "Alexander Main," he said, "ye're wrong. You are misjudging the young man; ye're growing old, and the sap in your heart is drying up. Shame on you that you should ever doubt that a man may rejoice at being privileged to enter the presence of God." Then he stretched out his hand: "Forgive me, young man. We Scots have perhaps lost our sense of joy in our sense of duty, but we are wrong, wrong, wrong!"
His wonted kindliness of heart was bubbling over. My joy had come from a very human source and sorely was I tempted to explain myself: but I held my peace.
We took the path again and plodded along the hillside until we came to the top of a long ridge. As we drew near it the minister signalled to me to crouch down, and on his hands and knees he crawled up and peered long and earnestly over the other side. I knew the reason of his caution. If he stood erect on the brow-top his dark figure, sharp-cut against the sky, might be seen by some patrol of troopers on the moorland. His caution brought me back sharply from the land of dreams. He and I were hunted men.
Apparently his scrutiny satisfied him, for he turned round and, sitting down, said: "We may rest here awhile." I sat beside him and together we scanned the valley that lay below us. It seemed to be a vast solitude, but as I looked I began to pick out here and there a moving figure, and startled, I called his attention to them. He looked and, after a pause, made answer: "They are only the moorland folk making their ways home. See yonder, that is no trooper, but a woman. Poor, harried sheep! May the Great Shepherd guide them all to the fold of home, and in His own good time to the fold abune." I looked again, scanning the moorland with sharpened eyes in the hope that afar I might catch a glimpse of her whose life had touched mine so tenderly that day; but I could not discern her.
I was stirred by a strange desire to talk, and I began to put to my companion questions about some of his flock, and by devious paths I led him to the subject that was really in my heart.
"Mary," he said, "what would you know about Mary?" and then he smiled. "Oh, that is how the land lies, is it? Well, I'm no' surprised. She's a bonnie lass, and as good as she is bonnie, and a likely lass to take a young man's eye. But put her out of your mind. She's no' for you. The dove maunna' mate wi' the corbie."
"She must be a brave woman," I said, "for I understand that she brings us our food."
"Wha tell't ye that?" he exclaimed, turning upon me sharply and lapsing into the fashion of speech which was ever his refuge when he was moved.
"Well, sir," I answered, "you said as much, and I put two and two together."
"Did I?" he exclaimed. "Well, ye maun guess nae mair; dinna forget this is the Sabbath day."