The meeting was an undeniable success. The chairman called on his reverend supporters for addresses, which they made in their warmest and most florid style. They recalled the rebuilding of Jerusalem and the Temple, when each man laboured with his sword by his side, and worked, and watched, and fought by turns; till every hearer present believed that he might emulate Nehemiah and Zerubbabel by contributing to the collection, and began to finger his loose change with a view to doing it. There were stirring references, too, to John Knox, (especially to the scene at Holyrood, when he spoke back to the Queen,) to George Wishart and Andrew Rutherford, Margaret Wilson, John Brown of Priesthill, martyred by 'Clavers,' Jenny Geddes with her creepie attacking the Dean of Edinburgh, and other Scots Worthies.
Then followed reports, statements of funds and calculations of expenses from the Deacons, and finally speeches from all who chose to address the meeting. This last feature in the proceedings was especially popular. Every greybeard in the crowd was in turn urged and goaded by his admiring family and neighbours to step forward, and when, after much shame-faced trepidation, he had hummed and stuttered through a few sentences and would finally come to a dead stop and return to his friends, he had earned the self-satisfied consciousness that he was a potential orator, and that 'gin the Lord had but granted him schulin' in his youth, he might have wagged his pow in a poopit wi' the best.'
At length the hoary grandsires had all spoken, the fathers, the sons, even the 'halflin callants,' began to feel the stirrings of ambitious eloquence. Luckie Howden, too, felt movings to rehearse her testimony in favour of good morals, and Brother Dowlas saw it was time to draw the line. In a whisper he called attention to the practice of Saint Paul, who suffered not a woman to teach--a sentiment which was overheard by Mrs. Sangster, and elicited from her a look of most contemptuous wonder, but nevertheless received the adhesion of the Laird. They therefore proceeded to lay the foundation stone, with appropriate prayer and praise, and the proceedings came to an end.
At this moment, Mr. Dowlas came forward and stated in a loud voice that he had been requested to intimate 'that the Session and Deacons' Court were requested to assemble for special and important business at the Post Office, immediately after the close of the present meeting.' Mr. Sangster was taken by surprise. He asked on whose authority the intimation had been made, but the reverend announcer replied that a written notice had been placed in his hand, and that he and Mr. Geddie had been requested to be present.
The elders and deacons were already assembled when Mr. Sangster and the ministers entered the place of meeting, Joseph bringing up the rear in his most official manner, yet diffidently,--as if uncertain whether he were wanted,--but still desirous to know what was going forward, and willing to give weight to it by the presence of the beadle. He stood by the door with his hand meekly before his mouth, and surveyed the silent assemblage, whom he afterwards described to Jean Macaulay as resembling 'a curran hoolets wi' their muckle blinkin' een, lookin' terrible wise an' sayin' naething.' Perhaps it was in their silence that their wisdom lay.
Ebenezer Prittie, being host, or at least the party in occupation of the premises, rose to his feet, and after clearing his voice, proposed that the ruling elder, Mr. Sangster of Auchlippie, now take the chair, and that the clerk of session take the desk and minute the proceedings.
Mr. Sangster rose in reply, saying that before he did so, he desired to understand the nature of the meeting over which he was asked to preside, as he knew nothing about it but the intimation which had been read after the meeting just closed and while it was dispersing.
Ebenezer replied that it was the meeting adjourned from Monday, as agreed on, that they might consult with the two reverend members of Presbytery, who were now kind enough to be present.
The Laird answered that the joint meeting of Session and Deacons' Court on the Monday, had concluded its business and been adjourned sine die by their acting minister who presided, and that when he (the speaker) subsequently conversed on the same evening with his friends, whom he had been happy once more to meet in that place, he had dwelt strongly and without being gainsaid, on the fact that their meeting as a Church Court having been dissolved by the presiding officer, that which they were then holding was merely a friendly conversation, and without authority. And he begged to inform the person, whoever he might be, at whose instance they had now come together, that it was altogether 'ultra vires' (his voice hung emphatically on the Latin words, and they greatly impressed his auditors) for the Session to assemble itself at the pleasure of any of its members, and to act as a court. Mr. Brown as acting minister was 'ex officio' (more emphasis and deep impression) the proper caller and president of such courts; and failing him, it was the ruling elder on whom it devolved to summon and preside over the Court. But the minister had no knowledge of,--far less had he called or sanctioned their meeting,--and for himself he could not, as a constituted authority in the Church, be party to a proceeding so irregular and subversive of all Church government, as the course proposed.
'But Mester Sangster,' put in Ebenezer, 'ye canna but say that we met here on Monday nicht, and gin ye dinna ken that we agreed to come thegither again the day, to consult wi' the twa ministers here present, it's yer ain faut. Ye gaed awa at yer ain wull, an' naebody cud tak on him to bid ye bide.'
'Brethren,' interposed Peter Malloch, with an elated but solemn smile, 'what say ye to ca't a' a meetin' o' the Deacons' Coort? An' we could meenit it a' in our books,--I'm thinkin' that's our plan. I'm the convener, an' I hae a richt to convene my ain coort!'
'Certainly, Mr. Convener,' responded the Laird, 'you may call a Deacons' Court; but on what point is it that you want the advice of the Eldership here present? Will the treasurer's books not balance? Have some of the collectors failed to make their returns? Or what is it?'
'Hoot, Laird! ye ken just fine! The treasurer's a' richt, an' sae are the collectors. It's the minister an' his bairn we're after, as ye ken brawly.'
'I regret then, Mr. Convener, to have to remind you that your court has no jurisdiction. Faith, morals, and discipline, are the exclusive province of the Session; and I for one protest against the Deacons' Court presuming to touch such matters.'
'Presumin'! quotha!' interjected Andrew Semple. 'An' hasna ilka auld wife e'y Glen been presumin', as ye ca' 't, for twa week back an' mair?'
Here Mr. Geddie felt compelled to intervene, and pour the oil of evangelical sweetness on the troubled waters. He was to dine and spend the night along with Mr. Dowlas at Auchlippie, therefore he would fain have agreed with his host; at the same time he had no intention of being balked of a sensation, and what promised to be a most interesting hunt after recent iniquity, at the very outset.
'It appears to me, my friends,' he said in his smoothest accents, 'that the points of order raised by our excellent brother have great weight, and are taken with that clear and perspicuous wisdom which have made his opinions a tower of strength to the church in turning back the army of the aliens; and therefore while the Deacons' Court are manifestly moved by a holy zeal for righteousness, such as we might have expected at their hands, it will be best that they do not take action officially in this matter.'
'I defy them to do it!' interjected the Laird, little mollified by the unctuous adjectives.
'It is also not to be expected,' continued this reverend Achitophel, 'that our erring brother'----
'Prove the error,' muttered the Laird.
'That our brother who has wandered from the paths of holy living, but whom we all love (and brethren, I may add that he is still but young, and the flesh is weak)! It is not to be expected that he should call a Court to investigate into his own shortcomings; or that until he has been brought to see and admit the heinousness of his offences, and that they have all been found out (for that, brethren, I have always observed is a powerful lever in awakening a slumbering conscience)--It is when the poor sinner has discovered that his refuges of lies will not stand, that they are all swept away like mists before the winds of indignation, and that the clear light of truth is shining down on his nakedness, and wretchedness, and moral wounds; it is then that the poor sinner comes forth with tears in his eyes and sackcloth on his loins, and cries aloud, "I have sinned."'
Here the orator stopped for breath. He was moved by his own pathetic elocution, and his picture of the returning prodigal. Also, he had got entangled among his parts of speech, and lost his way among the parentheses; and now he scarcely knew where he was, or what he had intended to say next.
'Are you not condemning a man before you have even heard the accusation brought against him?' inquired the Laird; but without gaining much attention from any one. The audience, in fact, was just then uttering a sigh of satisfaction over the moving words of the previous speaker, which were as impressive as a doleful sing-song could make them, besides being in accordance with their own opinion; and nothing is more interesting and weighty than our own sentiments uttered by another, with a fluency and copiousness which we could not have lent them. It is like looking at ourselves through a glorifying medium, contemplating our own portrait from the brush of a distinguished court painter; which, judged by the walls of Royal Academy Exhibitions, is the highest, as well as the best paid form of art. The golden bowls and pomegranates of the morning were nothing to this! it was as good as a sermon, and 'so practical,' as some one whispered. Nothing like a practical sermon! my friend; and much tilting at sin. Always premising that the sin is not yours nor mine (which would be personal and rude), it makes one feel virtuous by proxy.
Mr. Geddie looked over for a suggestion how to proceed, to brother Dowlas, who was quietly enjoying the scene. He knew what it was to be flown away with by Pegasus, and then dropped helpless in a swamp. It had happened to himself; but he was older now, and it was not disagreeable to see his young friend meet the reward of his overforwardness in this miscarriage.
Mr. Dowlas suggested that the present was properly to be considered a meeting of members and office-bearers of the congregation, to investigate certain rumours affecting the character of their acting minister, and to decide what action, either by way of petition to the Presbytery or otherwise, as might seem most expedient was to be taken thereanent.
'Ay! Thereanent, Elluck! Hear ye that?' whispered a neighbour to Alec Lamont, 'That's juist what they say e'y Presbytery. I ken, for I hae heard them mysel'! A graund head for business he's gotten, that Mester Dowlas. We's gang the richt gate to wark noo, I'm thinkin'. An' hear till him noo, Elluck!' he continued. 'Hear til him noo!' while poor Alec was straining his ears to listen, and was only prevented by the chatter of his talkative neighbour.
Mr. Dowlas went on to propose that the postmaster, Mr. Prittie, act as secretary to the meeting, which was carried with general applause; and Ebenezer took a new quill pen from his drawer, examined the nib critically on his nail, and then placed it thoughtfully between his teeth, while he took his stand at the little shop desk. Observing the tall stool he bethought him that a chairman was wanted, and forthwith reciprocated the holy man's politeness by proposing that he take the chair. Mr. Dowlas bearing in mind his own bulk, and surveying the tall and slender legs of the stool, demurred, suggesting that the chair should be filled by one of themselves--the Laird in fact. The Laird declined with emphasis. He said that it would not be long till they would not only regret, but be heartily ashamed of what they were doing, that he would not compromise himself in their proceedings, even so far as to be present, but that he thought it well that a friend of both sides, who had not yet committed himself to a judgment without evidence, should be present, to prevent mischief as far as possible.
No one ventured to retort. The majesty of wealth and prosperity forbade that; but it may be safely said that for the moment the kindness and goodwill of a lifetime did little to mitigate the indignation begotten of that rebuke.
With some trepidation and much care, Mr. Dowlas clambered up to his lofty perch, from which he looked giddily down. He could not now rise to speak, and there was nothing so abstruse going forward that he need come down to the level of his hearers, wherefore he remained where he was, and like the Queen addressing her Parliament, he spoke seated.
He looked down over Ebenezer and his clean sheet of paper and directed him how he should begin the minutes of the meeting, and then informed his auditors that they might now consider the meeting as constituted, and that it would be in order for some one to bring before it a categorical statement of the business which had brought them together.
All eyes were turned on Ebenezer, but that terrible word 'categorical' had proved a stumbler to him. Looks, winks and nods were in vain, because he had resolved not to see them, and was busy remaking his pen, and flicking the point with his thumb that the hair split might come straight. Next they looked to Peter Malloch, but he was persistently looking to some one else, so that the electric influence, if there was any, was simply passed along further by him as a conductor, and nothing came of it.
'Is there no one,' said Mr. Dowlas at length, 'who will state the purpose of this meeting? We have nothing before us which we can consider or come to a decision upon, surely some one present could repeat the charges and statements on which Mr. Geddie and myself were induced to attend here.'
His eye had fallen on that of Andrew Semple, who was looking up and listening with all attention, and there, unwittingly fixed, it had remained, till Andrew feeling himself singled out and addressed individually, stood up as by special command, and after some introductory stammering, found voice.
'It's little I can say 'at I ken, Mester Dowlas, an' I see na what for ye suld look to me to mak yer statement; but seein' ye're a minister 'at kens what's richt, an' wad na be for leadin' simple folk 'at lippens to ye, intil harm, I'm no mindin' gin I say what I can. A weel, sir, ye see it was just the very day our Davie was ta'en down wi' the jandies. It may hae been on a Tuesday? Na, it was Wadnesday, I'm gye an' sure it was a Wadnesday. I had gotten thegither a score o' yows, an' I was just gaun to herd them down by til Elluc Powie's; an' the gudewife she comes to me an' she says, "Andra," says she, "I'm sair misdoubtin' but our Davie"--or na! It was "that puir bairn Davie" she ca'd him. Ay! thae was her very words, "that he's gotten the jandies, an', gin yer road's through Glen Effick, I wuss ye wad just rin in as ye gang by, an' tell my Auntie Lillie, she's just graund on the jandies." An', says I, "gudewife, I'll do yer biddin'." An' sae, me an' my yows, an' my dug Bawtie--ay it was--Bawtie, I'm thinkin'--Mustard had gotten a lang jag in's forepaw, sae he bed at hame. Aweel, as I was sayin'--'
'Hurry up! Andra,' whispered the Laird, 'or it will be supper time before you get through! I want to get home.'
'The truith's better nor rubies, Laird! speer the minister there gin it's no! I wull no lee, for a' the lairds atween here an' Fruchie! an' it's a sair job to be mindin' byganes. But, as I was sayin', minister, we was just fornent the smiddie, (me, an' the yows, ye ken, an' Bawtie) whan wha suld I see but Auntie Lillie hersel, an' says I to her, "Hoo's a' wi' ye, Auntie?" says I--Na! that's no hit. It was her 'at says to me, "Andra Semple," says she, "but the sicht o' you's gude for sair eyen," says she, an' syne she speered for the gudewife. An' I up an' telled her hoo our Davie was down wi' the jandies, an' her, she was sair afflicket to hear tell o't, for she's a rael kindly auld body. An' says she to me, "It's just trouble an' affliction a' round," says she, "I'm thinkin' it's the days of the end 'at's comin' to pass," says she. "An' there's nane to lippen til. We're just born til evil as the sparks flee up. An' there's non that doeth gude, no not wan," for she's weel grundet e'y scripter, our Auntie Lillie. "An' ye'll no hae been hearin' what's come o'er our minister," says she, "Him we a' tuk for sic a sonsie honest laad, an' a gude!--aweel gin a' the folk says," says she, "be true, he's gaen clean wrang a' thegither." An' sae she up an' telled me a' 'at a'body kens a'ready; an' ye a' ken't, an' that's just hoo I cam to hear tell o't at the first. An' sae I hae telled ye a' I ken.'
'But you have told us nothing at all,' said the Laird, 'except that your Auntie Lillie has skill with the "Jandies," and it was not that we assembled to hear about, though it is a far more useful thing to know than the other stuff. I think we had better go home!'
'Patience! brethren,' said the chairman, 'let us cultivate a calm and judicious frame of mind. What was it, Andrew, that your aunt told you about the minister?'
'Hear-say evidence!' interjected the Laird.
'Not at all! It is not evidence in the legal sense we are after at present, simply a beginning of some kind,--an allegation, a statement to be afterwards sifted. Now, Andrew Semple, what was it your aunt told you about Mr. Brown?'
'Aweel, sir, she telled me o' the bairn 'at auld Eppie Ness was takin' tent on; an' I says, ne'er misdoubtin' wrang, ye ken, says I, "It's juist like him; it's him 'at's aye doin' gude." An' Auntie Lillie she just leugh, an' gae a kin' o' glint o' the e'e, an' syne she gae the ither nicker, an' says she, "Andra," she says, "Semple's yer name, an' simple's yer natur! It's his ain bairn, bless ye!--the pawkie young sneckdrawer 'at we a' thocht was sae blate an' sae douce. I canna but laugh whiles, to think sic fules as he has made o' us, for a' it's sae wrang." "But it's no true," says I. "That's just the fash o't," quo' she; "it's ower true! There's no a wife e'y hale glen 'at disna ken a' about it."'
'You affirm, then, that it is commonly reported, Andrew,' said the chairman, 'that the infant adopted by Mr. Brown is his own child? Here is an allegation which the ecclesiastical authorities cannot possibly let pass unsifted. On what authority is the assertion made?'
'Just a' body tells the same tale. An' I hae telled ye a' 'at I ken, an' that's naething!'
The ice being broken, every one was now willing to contribute a surmise or a circumstance, till in the end they had worked up the narrative to the full strength at which it was circulating out of doors.
'And now,' said the chairman, 'we have the accusation before us; and yet, strange to say, there is no accuser. We have here a public scandal, a case which would give the enemy ground to blaspheme. We must do our duty to the Church by taking steps for the removal of its withered branch. Now, who will undertake the Christian duty of libelling Mr. Brown before the Presbytery? Will the Session do it? or will the members of Session do it? It is a thing that must be done! You are all guilty of connivance, and are in fact accessories to the sin. Will the Session undertake to present the libel?'
'I won't for one,' said the Laird. 'I believe it to be all idle tattle. You have not a thread of evidence to support your libel, whatever.'
'Is there no one whom we could examine, so as to get at the facts?'
'Here's Joseph the bederal,' said Peter Malloch. 'The minister's man sees mair o' him nor ither folk!'
'I ken naething!' said Joseph, coming forward with a troubled look, 'naething ava! I'm ower weel kenned for a douce an' peacefu' Christian, for ony body to let on to me, gin their walk and conversation wasna what they suld be.'
Mr. Geddie appeared touched, and began to observe more attentively this excellent person.
'Did you see Mr. Brown bring home this infant?'
'No sir; but I saw the bairn in Miss Brown's arms, no lang after.'
'Where was the child brought from?'
'Naebody kens.'
'The child was brought from the seashore,' interposed the Laird, 'where it had been cast by the waves after a shipwreck. Mr. Brown never made any mystery about that!'
'Ah yes!' broke forth Mr. Geddie in his most dulcet cadence, 'charity never faileth! It is good for us to be here! This simple undoubting credence in our beloved and highly esteemed brother, is refreshing to the soul, as the grapes of Eshcol in a thirsty land! We know, my brethren, that we must all become as little children, trustful and believing in the gospel message. And here is one who has been nourished on the slopes of Carmel, in the footsteps of the flock, on whom the heaven has dropped her fatness, and the wisdom of the word has been his abundant nourishment. He is as a prince among us, and dwells in his own land among his flocks and herds, with none to make him afraid. Lo! my brethren, behold the simple and confiding innocency of our well-beloved brother, and his charity that never faileth, and his voice that is as the voice of a dove. But ah! my brethren, this is not the primeval Eden of our earliest progenitors! Alas! the trail of the serpent can be traced among the flowers! Sin has entered on our goodly land, and though we should still seek to be harmless as the dove, the wisdom of the serpent is also required, and we are cautioned to arm ourselves with that wisdom, even before we show the lovely gentleness of the bird of beauty, whose wings are sprinkled with silver, and its feathers with yellow gold. It is a wicked world, my friends, and while we may well envy our brother his beautiful charity of soul, we are clearly called upon to take heed to our steps, and not to be deceived by the cunning craftiness of evil men.'
An angry flush suffused the forehead of the Laird. I sadly fear he was not the heavenly-minded person depicted by the gushing preacher. He certainly would have resented and repudiated the portrait himself, and would have liked to detect some palpable sign of ironical intent, that he might quarrel with the man on the spot. But the preacher continued to regard him with his most lambent and seraphic smile, and in perfect good faith, without the smallest tinge of mockery. The audience, too, bore the outpouring in the best possible spirit. It struck them as very pretty language, and no doubt the Laird deserved it, though that was scarcely the view of his excellences which had hitherto presented itself to their minds; however, no doubt, the minister being a learned man knew best.
Joseph was the only person present whose sense of humour was in any way disturbed. When he heard the Laird likened to a bird of beauty, his wandering eyes alighted on his honour's bald and blushing poll. He felt tempted to grin, but checked himself in time, raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed long and softly, like one recovering breath after a protracted draught of sweetness. Mr. Dowlas bore the effusion with entire composure. Such bearing is a necessary gift in the eloquent professions. He had often had to practise it for the behoof of his fellows, and he suspected that they too had had reason to use it for his. He took up the examination.
'How was this infant brought home? he asked of Joseph.
'On Patey Soutar's pownie, sir. The minister cam hame ridin'.'
'Patey Soutar!' ejaculated Ebenezer, 'Patey Soutar the cadger? The maist ill doin' drucken vagabond e'y parish. Ye may tak yer aith the minister was after nae gude whan he gaed ridin' Patey Soutar's pownie!'
'Did you see him riding it then?' asked the Laird.
'No sir, but I heard tell o't.'
'Who told you?'
'I'm sure I canna say, sir.'
'Then we must question Soutar himself.'
'He's the warst leear e'y glen!' cried Joseph, who had no desire that it should be found out that it was himself who had procured Patey's pony for the minister. Had that come out, and the object of the minister's journey, all the suspicion and mystery would have fallen to pieces; and while he had no deliberate wish to injure the minister (whom indeed he liked as well as any one, except Joseph Smiley), yet if somebody else did it, and if Tibbie could be induced to join, why then his suit to Jean Macaulay might come to something. His attitude, therefore, may be described as 'expectant,' and his policy, to use his own words, was 'to haud a man on his ain gate.'
'And what do you think about this yourself, Joseph?' asked Mr. Geddie.
'A weel sir! I dinna weel ken just what to think; but my granny had an auld sayin' 'at there was "aye water whaur the stirk was drowned," an' I'm feared it's a true ane, for the heart of man rins on evil continual, we hae Scripter for that, an' the flesh is waik ye ken, sir, for, after a', ministers are but men, though wi' a hantle grace they may come to great things, as in yer ain case,' said this polite Joseph.
Mr. Geddie was visibly touched,--the tribute was as unexpected as it was gratifying. 'Evidently a very superior man,' he thought, 'and one who has the root of the matter in him. He seems to know his Bible well too.'
'And now,' said Mr. Dowlas, 'what is to be the result of our deliberations? We dare not let this matter drop. Of all here present, who will sustain before the Presbytery the libel that must be drawn?'
'Who can sustain it?' said the Laird, 'that is what I want to know.'
'There is clearly a fama clamosa in this parish, against the acting minister, destroying his usefulness, and injurious to the church. If some of the office-bearers here present will frame a libel, it will be the best and most expeditious mode of proceeding; if not, Mr. Geddie and I must bring this fama clamosa before the Presbytery, that it may deal with it as in its wisdom may appear best, and I call on you all here present to assist us in the work! Further, it seems to me that we should appoint a committee to visit and deal with the suspected transgressors, in all faithfulness and love. Who knows but they may be brought to a due sense of their offences, and may make confession (which would simplify proceedings)? Or at any rate such admissions as they may make, will be of assistance in framing our libel.'
'Wha's that he's gaun tae gar confess?' asked Alec Lamont. 'I ne'er heard the name afore. Phemie wha? I'm thinkin' ye hae her name wrang, minister!' he continued in a louder voice. 'Her name's no Phemie ava, it's juist Tibbie Tirpie!'
Alec was speedily reduced to silence by his neighbours, and Mr. Dowlas went on.
'I have important duties at home which will call me away to-morrow, but I propose that the committee to call on and deal with the parties under suspicion, be as follows:--To represent the Presbytery, Brother Geddie, who, I feel sure, will see it his duty to remain over, Mr. Sangster and Mr. Prittie to represent the Eldership, Mr. Peter Malloch the Deacons and congregation.'
'For myself,' said the Laird, 'I will accompany your deputation to wait on Mr. Brown, if it were only to show him that there are some who believe in him still; but as for visiting the young woman who has had the ill luck to fall under the suspicion of this meeting, I must crave to be excused. How any man can think of going on such an errand to a lonely old woman and her daughter is beyond my comprehension. For myself, I could not do it.'
'Duty, brother! duty!' cried Mr. Geddie. 'That should be the watchword of every true soldier of the cross! Likings and dislikes will go for nothing in the eyes of true wisdom when duty calls, and her ways are ways of pleasantness and all her paths are peace!'
The next day Roderick, having slept well, was greatly refreshed, and felt strong enough to move to his easy chair by the fire. Mary had heaped up the peat and coppice oak on the hearth, and thrown open the window till the air grew sweet and wholesome, and the clammy damps of their hovel were dissipated like the nightmares that had been oppressing his brain all through the past dreary week.
'And what can the rumours be that Sophie spoke of, Mary?' he asked. 'I really am curious to know. I suspect they have influenced more people than that absurd Duchess. That would account for the way the people have stayed away from me, which has been surprising and even distressing me a good deal. However, I am getting better now; a day or two more and I shall be out among them, and I shall find it all out. But I really feel hurt by their coldness and indifference to me.'
'Nonsense, Roddie! They are a foolish and ungrateful lot; never mind them. You must follow the doctor's advice, and go south for the winter, as soon as you are able to travel. Just look at the walls! green with damp, and the moisture trickling down the plaster; and yet this is only October! What will it be in January? It is fine weather now, and we are burning as much fuel as can be done without setting the house on fire, and it takes it all to drive the horrid mouldiness even temporarily out of the air. When winter comes and the rain is incessant out of doors, except when it snows, perhaps, for a change, the window must be kept closed, and the mouldiness and the damp will turn the place into a very cave, and, as the doctor said, after this attack a very little matter will drive you into a consumption. You must not think of it--it terrifies me, and, indeed, I am afraid even for myself. As for the people--I think they will very likely think better of you after we are gone. When your charities among them are suspended, very likely they may think more of you and them. It will serve them right, and be a warning against wagging their tattling tongues so freely for the future. Have done with them! They are a worthless set.'
'Fie, Mary! What are any of us but poor worthless creatures? We who have education and an income, should not be hard on the poor souls. The world must appear very different to them, from what it does to us. Think what it must be to look into the half empty meal-girnel, and at the little heap of potatoes, and know that that is all between them and starvation, till more is earned,--that the smallest miscarriage, a delay in receiving the weekly wage, a stumble ending in a sprain, sickness of a child, even an accident to a horse or a car, may entail a supperless night, or a day of hunger! And when all the energy and care are needed to stave off from day to day their physical destitution, is it not too much to look for those more graceful and spiritual charities which make our life pleasant? It takes so much of light and heat and moisture to support the mere plant life; and when these are so stintedly supplied, it is surely over-exacting to look for the same profusion of flower and fruit on the bare hill-side as one expects in a sheltered garden. In visiting among the poor, I have often felt humbled at the view of their sturdy fortitude under privation, and the extent of their unostentatious charities to one another. They will stint themselves of the necessaries of life to help those worse provided than themselves, but they cannot talk about it. Indeed, the beautiful act and the gracious word are never to be met with both on the same bush among these wind-swept hills, and I am thankful to say it is the deed I have oftenest observed. I feel bound to make allowance for much rugged speech which might sound hard and uncharitable to a stranger. You may sow mignonette and gilly-flower in your garden, but it is the heather, tough and sturdy, which grows upon the braes, and defies the blasts; and that, too, has its beauty and its sweetness, and we value it less only because it is more abundant and common.'
'Poor Roderick! The hebdomadal orator had broken out in him after his long rest in bed,--the habit of prelecting before a silent auditory, which many find so difficult to acquire, and which, when learnt, makes so many long-winded and pragmatical nuisances in private life. It did not trouble Mary. Born in a manse, she had been used to prelections all her life, and as the periods would grow longer and more resonant, she would know that no answer was expected, and would go on with her work. Perhaps she regarded it as practise for Sunday, most likely she did not think of it at all, as she settled more steadily to her tatting and crochet work--the Penelope's web, always beginning and never apparently coming to an end,--which kept her fingers pleasantly busy, and left her mind in perfect peace.
There is no saying to what heights and depths of wisdom, or, mayhap, nonsense, Roderick might have attained. The muse theologic, after a week's inaction, inclined to long and discursive flight, but was interrupted in full career by the entrance of Mr. Sangster.
Mr. Sangster was always a welcome visitor, being indeed the only man in the congregation of education or judgment sufficient to warrant confidential consultation. His rugged face and burly form showed some discomposure, as, after a greeting of unusual warmth, for him, he took his seat.
'This is not a mere friendly visit, Mr. Roderick,' he said;' I wish it was. I am the advanced guard, if I may say so, of a deputation which is going to wait on you; and I wish you distinctly to understand, that I have no sympathy with it whatever. I would say that their errand is both impertinent and absurd, but that these expressions are not half strong enough to convey what I think; and, as I have told them, I only accompany them to assure you that, though they are taking upon them to speak in the name of your flock, we are not all to be taken as represented by them. Quite the contrary!'
Mary flushed and looked disturbed, and presently she left the room.
Roderick's face showed only astonishment. 'But what is it about, Mr. Sangster? Mary has used the word 'rumours' more than once, but she has not explained it, and you know I have been shut up here for a week past. There must be something the matter, for none of the people have come to see me, and scarcely any so far as I know have even asked how I am. I have been so ill as scarcely to have noted the neglect, but to-day, when I am again able to think, it seems strange. There are so many warm hearts among them.'
'A set of born idiots!' muttered the Laird testily. But at that moment the door opened, and the deputation appeared. Ebenezer Prittie and Peter Malloch were grave and austere of demeanour, and dignified withal, but a little uncertain. They had thought to gather facts, hints, and experience for this more weighty visitation, in their preliminary raid on Tibbie Tirpie; but when they had arrived before her shieling, the door was locked, and no sign of life showed around the premises but a starveling black cat, which arched its back threateningly at their approach, and guarded the threshold with a display of needle-sharp claws and teeth.
Mr. Geddie's deportment also was grave, but solemn rather than severe. He was minded that his disapproval should be chastened with much love, and expected thereby to win the culprit to repentance, and what would be especially convenient in the present unripe and ill-gotten-up state of their case, to confession.
Roderick greeted them with his wonted cordiality, provided them with seats, and sat down facing them to hear what they would say, while the Laird twirled his thumbs in expectancy; but they said nothing.
The laymen exchanged shakes of the head and glances of sorrowful reprobation at the tranquil composure of this impenitent sinner, then they sighed despondingly and looked at the carpet, till their clerical leader should begin. Mr. Geddie had his voice and demeanour attuned to sad solemnity and love, but the words which these sentiments were to clothe were slow to arrive. He looked secretly at his intended penitent, as if inviting him to open the conference, but the invitation was unheeded. Curiosity and a well-mannered patience only were apparent in his bearing, and these were gradually changed into astonished amusement as the silence continued, and perhaps some slight gleam of mischief, as Mr. Geddie's regard grew more appealing. It was evident that their errand, whatever it might be, was hardly a friendly one, or they would not feel so much difficulty in putting it into words; and there was no reason why he should assist them to get into position the artillery with which they were about to open a cannonade on himself.
Mr. Geddie was an accomplished preacher. He could preach from any text, at any length, and what was more, on any subject,--at least he could work round to the subject he meant to discuss, from any text or subject whatever, in a way the most natural. But a text or starting point of some kind he must have, and hence his desire that Roderick should speak. Had he even spoken of the weather, there would have been an opening to compare present climatic conditions with those which the impenitent wicked shall hereafter experience, and the whole affair would then have been open before him, to discourse on such points and phases as appeared expedient. But this obdurate person remained persistently silent, instead of helping with becoming meekness to prepare the discipline for his own shoulders. Mr. Geddie at length bethought him of his Bible, and, like any other proper-minded person, had recourse to that in his difficulty. Lifting his voice in a melancholy cadence, while he opened the book--
'Let us read,' he cried, 'for edification and correction, a few of the Psalms.'
His voice rose and fell according to his peculiar theory of elocution, getting fuller and louder as he warmed to the work, till he had read through the seven penitential Psalms. Then he paused and closed the book.
'Brother!' he said, 'the words which we have read are the inspired expression of contrition and penitence. They give fitting voice to every agonized soul that has--stumbled in the miry ways of life. Still, they are but in the general. Each case must bring its own particular specification of transgression--must bring forth its own dead out of its secret chambers, must lay bare its own moral wounds, and expose them to the healing sight of truth. The passer-by may shoot out the tongue and say, 'Aha!' but thou, my brother, hast purged thy skirts by open confession and separation, and mayhap thou mayest save thy soul! And oh! my brother, it is above price!'
Roderick sat speechless and amazed. Had Mr. Geddie been alone, he would have supposed that he had lost his wits, or, in view of the weight he attached to the penitential Psalms and to penitence, which might perhaps mean penance, especially when coupled with confession, he might have supposed that he had joined the Jesuits, who were believed to be especially active at that time, and to be using all manner of crafty devices to secure converts; but after what the Laird had said, and in view of the lay delegates present, some other explanation was needed.
'And art thou still speechless, Oh, my brother?' the exhorter went on, 'Thou for whom our hearts have yearned with many tears? Think not longer to shelter in delusive secresy. Thy refuges of lies are overthrown, thy sin discovered. Come forth and make submission to the Church, while there is time! lest no place be found for repentance, though thou seek it with tears!'
Mr. Geddie's own handkerchief here came into requisition. If we would raise the sluices of our neighbours' tears, it is not amiss to begin by letting loose our own. Hysteria is infinitely infectious, as more than one pulpit orator, blessed with the gift of tears, has found in his brilliantly successful experience.
Roderick caught at the momentary silence to enquire what it all meant, and to what circumstance he could possibly be indebted for the singular scene. He looked to Ebenezer and Peter Malloch, but both turned their eyes austerely away, and fixed them on the carpet. He next addressed the Laird; but the Laird replied that they must state their own errand, he would not soil his lips with it, and if they had sense enough left to let decent shame keep them even yet from speaking, the best thing they could do would be to leave it unsaid, and trust to the whole exhibition being condoned as a mistake.
Mr. Geddie, handkerchief in hand, eyes fixed on the ground, was gathering his forces for a fresh onslaught on this hard and obdurate conscience. Mr. Sangster's remark appeared singularly inopportune, treacherous even, and most censurable. What hope of reducing the garrison if his own followers, his auxiliaries at least, were thus to turn and raise a diversion in favour of the besieged? He turned to the Laird in sorrow rather than in anger--
'Surely, Mr. Sangster, in view of the heavy responsibility we yesterday undertook, it is not well to encourage our brother in hardening his heart!'
'What responsibilities have you undertaken, Mr. Geddie?' asked Roderick; 'and who has laid them upon you?' I have listened to your reading and your exhortation, which I assume are meant for my benefit, but you have not condescended to explain their object, and I am at a loss to understand what it is you want.'
Mr. Geddie looked to his two associates, appalled at such persistence, and sadly shook his head. The associates shook their heads also, and looked uncomfortable. They were aware from the attitude of the Laird that there was a certain degree of thinness as yet in their case, when it came to be stated in detail without inference and insinuation; and they had been hoping that the solemn exercises in which they had engaged were to move the sinner to repentance and compel him to confess his fault. For they began to fear it might be hard for the present to prove the fault, and would have preferred to be left only the easier parts, rebuking the offender, and figuring before the Church as its zealous and victorious champions. The silence continued. Mr. Geddie had been dwelling on the moral and emotional aspects of the case, rather than the circumstantial. To his excellent, and even devout, but far from legal mind, the question had appeared to be one of sin, repentance, and church discipline; the more secular considerations of guilty or not guilty, facts, proofs, and probabilities, had never occurred to him at all. The case had been presented to him by persons whom he believed to be excellent and of sound evangelical views, and he had never dreamed of questioning what they said, revising the grounds of their suspicions, or asking what there might be to urge on the other side. When, therefore, the defendant requested, as it were, to hear the indictment against him, his thoughts and ideas had to be called in from the wide and very different field over which they were scattered, and brought to bear on a different and entirely new aspect of the case. While he had been deeply moved and interested in the case, viewed as one of established ill-doing, and had thought out very fully the relations of the church to the sinner and the sin, he found that his mind had entirely left out of consideration the grounds on which the accusation had been based, and that if it came to discussing the question of guilty or not guilty, he knew nothing about it and had nothing to say. It is not to be supposed, however, that on that account he believed any the less utterly in the guilt of the accused. He felt that he could not discuss it, being unprepared; but his mind, though well-meaning and incapable of intentional disingenuousness, was of the tenacious rather than that facile and self-styled candid order which, because it is incapable of taking strong hold, and is easily moved by every fresh suggestion, claims to be dispassionate and judicial. This man had been represented to him by what he considered good authority, as a sinner, and a sinner he would continue to regard him till irrefragable proof or higher authority declared the reverse. Mr. Geddie, therefore, kept silence under the new aspect of the case. He was clearly entitled to do so, seeing that in a question of circumstance, a parishioner with local knowledge must be able to speak with more understanding than a stranger, even though an ordained minister. On Ebenezer it naturally devolved to speak. He straightened himself in his seat, opened his mouth even and drew in the needful breath; but while he considered how the 'winged words' ought to arrange themselves, the vital wind escaped unmodulated from the doubting chest. A henpecked person, his verbal ventures had so often come to grief, that he had learned so to think and think, before he hazarded an utterance, that the opportunity, the breath, and even the idea were generally gone before he had strung himself to the utterance. The duty, therefore, fell to Peter Malloch, on whom no suspicion of henpecking could rest, as witness the mild apologetic sister who sometimes waited in the shop, and the meek old mother who was always stitching shirts for him, and spoke of him as the Convener;--and then there was no wife.
Peter cleared his voice and leant forward. Nothing could have pleased him more than thus to hold forth before a minister and the Laird; a success might lead to his being admitted to the eldership, and would certainly add to his weight in the church, so he resolved to do himself justice.