by John Galt
CHAPTER LX
Sauners Paton, as the miller was called, received me in a kindly manner,saying to Jamieson,--
"I aye thought, Johnnie, that some day ye would get a cast o' grace, andthe Lord has been bountiful to you at last, in putting it in your powerto be aiding in such a Samaritan work. But," he added, turning to me,"it's no just in my power to do for you what I could wis; for, to keeppeace in the house, I'm at times, like many other married men, obligatedto let the gudewife tak her ain way; for which reason, I doubt ye'll haeto mak your bed here in the mill."
While he was thus speaking, we heard the tongue of Mrs Paton ringinglike a bell.
"For Heaven's sake, Johnnie Jamieson," cried the miller, "gang out andstop her frae coming hither till I get the poor man hidden in the loft."
Jamieson ran out, leaving us together, and the miller placing a ladder,I mounted up into the loft, where he spread sacks for a bed to me, andtold me to lie quiet, and in the dusk he would bring me something toeat. But before he had well descended, and removed the ladder from thetrap-door, in came his wife.
"Noo, Sauners Paton," she exclaimed, "ye see what I hae aye prophesiedto you is fast coming to pass. The King's forces are at Cartsdyke, andthey'll be here the morn, and what's to come o' you then, wi' yourcovenanted havers? But, Sauners Paton, I hae ae thing to tell ye, andthat's no twa; ye'll this night flit your camp; ye'll tak to the hills,as I'm a living woman, and no bide to be hang't at your ain door, and toget your right hand chappit aff, and sent to Lanerk for a show, as theysay is done an doing wi' a' the Covenanters."
"Naebody, Kate, will meddle wi' me, dinna ye be fear't," replied themiller; "I hae done nae ill, but patiently follow't my calling at home,so what hae I to dread?"
"Did na ye sign the remonstrance to the laird against the curate'scoming; ca' ye that naething? Ye'll to the caves this night, SaunersPaton, if the life bide in your body. What a sight it would be to me tosee you put to death, and maybe to fin a sword of cauld iron runningthrough my ain body, for being colleague wi' you; for ye ken that it'sthe law now to mak wives respondable for their gudemen."
"Kate Warden," replied the miller, with a sedate voice, "in sma' thingsI hae ne'er set mysel vera obdoorately against you."
"Na! if I e'er heard the like o' that!" exclaimed Mrs Paton. "Across-graint man, that has just been as a Covenant and Remonstrance tohappiness, submitting himsel in no manner o' way, either to me or thosein authority over us, to talk o' sma' things! Sauners Paton, ye're aborn rebel to your King, and kintra, and wife. But this night I'll putit out of your power to rebel on me. Stop the mill, Sauners Paton, andcome out, and tak the door on your back. I hae owre meikle regard foryou to let you bide in jeopardy ony langer here."
"Consider," said Sauners, a little dourly, as if he meditated rebellion,"that this is the season of December; and where would ye hae me to gangin sic a night?"
"A grave in the kirk-yard's caulder than a tramp on the hills. My jo,ye'll hae to conform; for positeevely, Sauners Paton, I'm positive, andfor this night, till the blast has blawn by, ye'll hae to seek a refugeout o' the reach of the troopers' spear.--Hae ye stoppit the mill?"
The mistress was of so propugnacious a temper, that the poor man saw nobetter for't than to yield obedience so far, as to pull the string thatturned off the water of the mill-lade from the wheel.
"Noo," said he, "to pleasure you, Kate, I hae stoppit the mill, and topleasure me, I hope ye'll consent to stop your tongue; for, to be plainwi' you, frae my ain house I'll no gang this night; and ye shall hae'tsince ye will hae't, I hae a reason of my ain for biding at hame, and athame I will bide;--na, what's mair, Kate, it's a reason that I'll notell to you."
"Dear pity me, Sauners Paton!" cried his wife; "ye're surely grown o'late an unco reasonable man. But Leddy Stuart's quadrooped bird they ca'a parrot, can come o'er and o'er again ony word as weel as you can doreason; but reason here or reason there, I'll ne'er consent to let youstay to be put to the sword before my e'en; so come out o' the mill andlock the door."
To this the honest man made no immediate answer; but, after a shortsilence, he said,--
"Kate, my queen, I'll no say that what ye say is far wrang; it may be asweel for me to tak a dauner to the top o' Dunrod; but some providingshould be made for a sojourn a' night in the wilderness. The sun hasbeen set a lucky hour, and ye may as weel get the supper ready, and acreel wi' some vivers prepared."
"Noo, that's like yoursel, Sauners Paton," replied his wife; "and surelymy endeavour shall not be wanting to mak you comfortable."
At these words Jamieson came also into the mill, and said, "I hope,miller, the wife has gotten you persuaded o' your danger, and that ye'llconform to her kind wishes." By which I discernt, that he had purposelyegget her on to urge her gudeman to take the moors for the advantage ofme.
"O, aye," replied the miller; "I could na but be consenting, poor queen,to lighten her anxieties; and though for a season," he added, in a waythat I well understood, "the eyes above may be closed in slumber, awatch will be set to gi'e the signal when it's time to be up and ready;therefore let us go into the house, and cause no further molestationhere."
The three then retired, and, comforted by the words of this friendlymystery, I confided myself to the care of the defenceless sleeper'sever-wakeful Sentinel, and for several hours enjoyed a refreshingoblivion from all my troubles and fears.
Considering the fatigue I had undergone for so many days and nightstogether, my slumber might have been prolonged perhaps till morning, butthe worthy miller, who withstood the urgency of his terrified wife todepart till he thought I was rested, soon after the moon rose came intothe mill and wakened me to make ready for the road. So I left my couchin the loft, and came down to him; and he conducted me a little way fromthe house, where, bidding me wait, he went back, and speedily returnedwith a small basket in his hand of the stores which the mistress hadprovided for himself.
Having put the handle into my hand, he led me down to a steep shoulderof a precipice nigh the sea-shore, where, telling me to follow the pathalong the bottom of the hills, he shook me with a brotherly affection bythe hand, and bade me farewell,--saying, in a jocose manner, to lightenthe heaviness with which he saw my spirit was oppressed,--that thegudewife would make baith him and Johnnie Jamieson suffer in the bodyfor the fright she had gotten. "For ye should ken," said he, "that theterror she was in was a' bred o' Johnnie's pawkerie. He knew that shewas aye in a dread that I would be laid hands on ever since I signed theremonstrance to the laird; and Johnnie thought, that if he could get herto send me out provided for the hills, we would find a way to make theprovision yours. So, Gude be wi' you, and dinna be overly downhearted,when ye see how wonderfully ye are ta'en care o'."
Being thus cherished, cheered, and exhorted, by the worthy miller ofInverkip, I went on my way with a sense of renewed hope dawning upon myheart. The night was frosty, but clear, and the rippling of the seaglittered as with a sparkling of gladness in the beams of the moon thenwalking in the fulness of her beauty over those fields of holiness whoseperennial flowers are the everlasting stars. But though for a littlewhile my soul partook of the blessed tranquillity of the night, I hadnot travelled far when the heaven of my thoughts was overcast. Grieffor my brother in the hands of the oppressors, and anxiety for thetreasures of my hearth, whose dangers were doubtless increased by thepart I had taken in the raid, clouded my reason with many fearfulauguries and doleful anticipations. All care for my own safety was lostin those overwhelming reflections, in so much that when the morning airbreathed upon me as I reached the brow of Kilbride-hill, had I been thenquestioned as to the manner I had come there, verily I could have givenno account, for I saw not, neither did I hear, for many miles, aught,but only the dismal tragedies with which busy imagination rent my heartwith affliction, and flooded my eyes with the gushing streams of asofter sorrow.
But though my journey was a continued experience of inward suffering, Imet with no cause of dread, till I was within sight of Kilwinning.Having
purposed not to go home until I should learn what had taken placein my absence, I turned aside to the house of an acquaintance, oneWilliam Brekenrig, a covenanted Christian, to inquire, and to restmyself till the evening. Scarcely, however, had I entered on the paththat led to his door when a misgiving of mind fell upon me, and I haltedand looked to see if all about the mailing was in its wonted state. Hiscattle were on the stubble--the smoke stood over the lumhead in the lownof the morning--the plough lay unyoked on the croft, but it had beenlately used, and the furrows of part of a rig were newly turned. Stillthere was a something that sent solemnity and coldness into my soul. Isaw nobody about the farm, which at that time of the day was strange andunaccountable; nevertheless I hastened forward, and coming to apark-yett, I saw my old friend leaning over it with his head towards me.I called to him by name, but he heeded me not; I ran to him and touchedhim, but he was dead.
The ground around where he had rested himself and expired was coveredwith his blood; and it was plain he had not been shot long, for he waswarm, and the stream still trickled from the wound in his side.
I have no words to tell what I felt at the sight of this woful murder;but I ran for help to the house; and just as I turned the corner of thebarn, two soldiers met me, and I became their prisoner.
One of them was a ruthless reprobate, who wanted to put me to death; butthe other beggit my life: at the moment, however, my spirit was as itwere in the midst of thunders and a whirlwind.
They took from me my pistols and my grandfather's sword and I could notspeak; they tied my hands behind me with a cutting string, and I thoughtit was a dream. The air I breathed was as suffocating as sulphur; Igasped with the sandy thirst of the burning desert, and my throat was asthe drowth of the parched earth in the wilderness of Kedar.
Soon after this other soldiers came from another farm, where they hadbeen committing similar outrages, and they laughed and were merry asthey rehearsed their exploits of guilt. They taunted me and plucked meby the lip; but their boasting of what they had done flashed morefiercely over my spirit than even these indignities, and I inwardlychided the slow anger of the mysterious Heavens for permitting the rageof those agents of the apostate James Sharp and his compeers, whom amansworn king had so cruelly dressed with his authority.
But even in the midst of these repinings and bitter breathings, it waswhispered into the ears of my understanding, as with the voice of aseraph, that the Lord in all things moveth according to His establishedlaws; and I was comforted to think that in the enormities whereof I wasa witness and partaker, there was a tempering of the hearts of thepeople, that they might become as swords of steel, to work out thedeliverance of the land from the bloody methods of prelatic andarbitrary domination; in so much, that when the soldiers prepared toreturn to their quarters in Irvine, I walked with them--their captive,it is true; but my steps were firm, and they marvelled to one another atthe proudness of my tread.
There was at the time a general sorrowing throughout the country, at theavenging visitations wherewith all those who had been in the raid, orwho had harboured the fugitives, were visited. Hundreds that sympathisedwith the sufferings of their friends, flocked to the town to learn whohad been taken, and who were put to death or reserved for punishment.The crowd came pressing around as I was conducted up the gait to thetolbooth; the women wept, but the men looked doure, and the childrenwondered whatfor an honest man should be brought to punishment. Somewho knew me, cheered me by name to keep a stout heart; and the soldiersgrew fear't for a rescue, and gurled at the crowd for closing so closelyupon us.
As I was ascending the tolbooth-stair, I heard a shriek; and I lookedaround, and beheld Michael, my first-born, a stripling then only twelveyears old, amidst the crowd, stretching out his hands and crying, "O, myfather, my father!"
I halted for a moment, and the soldiers seemed to thaw with compassion;but my hands were tied,--I was a captive on the threshold of thedungeon, and I could only shut my eyes and bid the stern agents of thepersecutors go on. Still the cry of my distracted child knelled in myear, and my agony grew to such a pitch, that I flew forward up thesteps, and, in the dismal vaults within, sought refuge from the miseryof my child.