*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 ruggedcountenances that surrounded her. From underneath the kerchief thatsnooded her hair a wanton lock of gold strayed over the whiteness of herhigh forehead. I caught a glimpse of two pink ears set like wild rosesamong the locks that clustered round them. She sat demurely, unaware ofmy rapt scrutiny. Her lips were red as ripe cherries, and as she sang Isaw behind them the glint of white and regular teeth. Her eyes I couldnot catch; they were lifted to the distant sky over the hill-tops; hersoul was in her singing. One hand rested in her lap, the other hung downby her side, and almost touched the grass beside her rough seat. Theopen book upon her knees was open for form's sake only. She was singingfrom her heart and she knew the words without appeal to the printedpage. I took my eyes from her with difficulty and let them wander overthe little congregation of which she was a part, but I found no facethere which could hold them, and quickly they turned again to look uponthis winsome maid.
She had lowered her eyes now, and as I glanced across at her I met theirlevel gaze. There was a glint of light in them such as I have seen upona moorland tarn when the sunbeams frolic there, and as I looked at her Iwas aware that something within me was beating against my ribs like awild caged bird.
When the psalm was ended the minister behind me said solemnly, "Let uspray," and over against me I saw the heads of the congregation bendreverently. Some sat with clasped hands, others buried their faces inthe hollow of their palms. My devotions were divided, and before thepreacher had completed his sentences of invocation I found myselfpeeping 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 forexpressing the feelings as the human eye. In her clasped hands I sawthe rapture of a splendid faith: I saw devotion that would not shrinkfrom death; I saw love and sacrifice.
The preacher prayed on, embracing in his petitions the furthest cornersof 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 ofthe Covenant.
Once again I was conscious that my heart was thumping wildly, and I wasselfish enough to wonder whether my presence was disturbing herdevotions as much as hers was destroying mine. But she gave no sign.The lustrous pools of her eyes were hidden from my gaze behind thedropped lids. So long as she was unaware of it, I felt no hesitation inletting my eyes dwell upon her, to drink in the beauty of hersoul-filled face.
I was still gazing upon this vision when suddenly the prayer ended. Ican tell no more of the service. I only know that in that little band ofworshippers I was one of the most fervent--but I fear that I wasworshipping one of God's creatures rather than God Himself.
After the benediction had been pronounced over the standingcongregation, I looked up at the sky and judged that well-nigh threehours must have elapsed since we sang the opening psalm, and to me ithad passed in a flash. Never before had I known the minutes fly uponsuch winged feet.
I shook myself out of my dream and turned towards the minister. He haddropped on his knees and was engaged in silent prayer. Unwilling todisturb him, I turned once more toward the congregation which hadalready arisen from its stony pews and was standing clustered in littleknots. I hesitated for a moment, and as I hung uncertain I felt an armslip 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 strangelymoved."
Good honest man! I had been strangely moved, but by other emotions thanthose for which he gave me credit!
As he talked, we had descended the slope and stood in the hollow. Thecongregation gathered round us; many of the men, and some of the olderwomen, grasped the preacher warmly by the hand. There was noeffusiveness in these salutations, but a quiet earnestness that bespoketheir love for him.
"Ye were michty in prayer the day," said one, while I heard anotherexclaim: "Ye divided the word maist skilfully, sir. The twalfth heidmicht ha'e been expanded wi' advantage, but your fourteenth wasby-ordinar'. I never heard finer words o' grace, no even frae godlySamuel Rutherford himself. God keep ye, sir." "Ay," said another."When ye gied oot yer sixth heid says I tae masel', 'Noo, how will hehandle that ane: but, sir, ye were maisterfu', an' I was mair thansatisfied."
These words of praise were accepted by the minister with a modestderogation: "I am but a frail mouthpiece," he said. "The message hassuffered through my poor imperfections."
In the press around him I was suddenly conscious of _her_ presence. Isaw 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 healthybrown as she smiled. I felt I would have given all of life that mightlie before me had that smile been for me. With ears alert I waited tohear her speak. Softly, and in sweet accents, within whose music therewas 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 oatcakescouldna 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 wereturned expectantly upon me, and then, fool that I was, any readiness ofwit I had, oozed through the soles of my feet and left me standing inthe 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 tofly into the wilderness a wee oftener. I maun tell mither."
She looked at me, and then with a glint in her beautiful eyes that mademe think she had not been altogether unaware of my scrutiny during theservice, said: "For a trooper, ye behaved very weel," and then lest Imight imagine that I was more to her than the merest insect that hidesamong the heather, she turned once more to the minister.
I was too young then to know that, be she Covenanter's daughter or Courtlady, woman is ever the same, with the same arts to provoke, the samewitchery to allure, the same artfully artless skill to torture and toheal the heart of man. She had turned away from me, but in doing so shehad drawn me closer to herself, and I was rivetted to the ground where Istood, ready to stand there for ever--just to be within sound of hervoice, within arm's length of her hand. Suddenly she disentangledherself from the little group and going to its outskirts placed her handupon the arm of a middle-aged bearded man and brought him to theminister. There was something in the shape of the forehead and eyebrowsof the man that made me think he might be her father, and my thought wasconfirmed when the minister, taking him by the hand, said:
"Andrew, you have a daughter to be proud of. Her mither's ain bairn, anda bonnie lass."
Her father paid no attention to the compliment, and as though to bringback the thoughts of the man of God from such a worldly object as apretty girl, said:
"And when may we expect ye tae honour our hoose by comin' for thecatechisin'?"
"God willing, I shall be at Daldowie on Friday next, and, Andrew, I'llexpect 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 longroad before us. God keep you all. Good-bye," and without another wordhe strode away. I followed him, and as I passed the girl she glanced atme and her lips moved. I hesitated and stopped, and O wonder! she hadstretched out her hand to me.
"Good-bye," she said. "Tak' care of the minister. Maybe you'll convoyhim to the catechisin'."
"Trust me," I said. "No harm shall touch a hair of his head if I canfend it off."
"Thank yo
u," she replied. "I think I can trust you, in spite o' yourcoat," and she dropped my hand.
That was all: but her words and the trust she was ready to place in mehad made my whole world glow. I hurried after the minister, walking onair, and felt sorely tempted to burst into song, but I knew that, onsuch a day, to have done so would have rendered me suspect of wantongodlessness and I restrained myself; but it was only outwardly. Myheart was singing like a clutch of larks, and the rugged hill-side wascovered with springing flowers. Once before I had felt the spell of awoman, but never till now had any daughter of Eve cast such a glamourover me. Was it love? Was it love? And if it were--was it love on myside 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 anddeath, could awaken in the sweet soul of that innocent girl feelingssuch as she had stirred within my breast, I pictured her again: I sawher sweet brown eyes, and I remembered the glory of her hair, which fora moment I had seen in all its beauty when her kerchief had slippedback. It was chestnut-brown, coiled in great masses, save just aboveher brow, where in some mood of whim nature had set a golden curl likean aureole. And as I fondly recalled her features one by one I foundmyself thinking that behind the demure repose of her face there lurkedsome elfin roguishness--something elusive that gave her a mysteriouscharm.
I walked on in a maze of dreams, but was called sharply back to earth bythe 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 mydreams, instead of following the minister I was walking obliquely awayfrom him. I ran to rejoin him, but I had no excuse ready to explain myerror, nor did he ask for one. We resumed our walk together and in amoment or two he said:
"Well, what think you o' a Conventicle?"
There was no mental reservation in my reply: "Never, sir, did I so enjoya religious service."
"Enjoy?" he repeated, questioningly. "Enjoy? that is a worldly word touse concerning such a privilege."
I looked at him sharply, half suspecting that he had guessed the causeof my appreciation of the field-meeting; but there was nothing in hissolemn countenance to make me think he suspected me of duplicity.
"You English folk," he continued, "have queer ways of using your ownlanguage. I can understand a hungry man enjoying a hearty meal; butenjoying a privilege seems wrong. One accepts a privilege with athankful and humble heart." Then he stopped suddenly, stamping his footupon the ground. "Alexander Main," he said, "ye're wrong. You aremisjudging the young man; ye're growing old, and the sap in your heartis drying up. Shame on you that you should ever doubt that a man mayrejoice at being privileged to enter the presence of God." Then hestretched out his hand: "Forgive me, young man. We Scots have perhapslost 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 avery human source and sorely was I tempted to explain myself: but I heldmy peace.
We took the path again and plodded along the hillside until we came tothe top of a long ridge. As we drew near it the minister signalled tome to crouch down, and on his hands and knees he crawled up and peeredlong and earnestly over the other side. I knew the reason of hiscaution. If he stood erect on the brow-top his dark figure, sharp-cutagainst the sky, might be seen by some patrol of troopers on themoorland. 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, sittingdown, said: "We may rest here awhile." I sat beside him and together wescanned 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, andstartled, 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! Maythe Great Shepherd guide them all to the fold of home, and in His owngood time to the fold abune." I looked again, scanning the moorlandwith sharpened eyes in the hope that afar I might catch a glimpse of herwhose life had touched mine so tenderly that day; but I could notdiscern her.
I was stirred by a strange desire to talk, and I began to put to mycompanion questions about some of his flock, and by devious paths I ledhim 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'sa bonnie lass, and as good as she is bonnie, and a likely lass to take ayoung man's eye. But put her out of your mind. She's no' for you. Thedove maunna' mate wi' the corbie."
"She must be a brave woman," I said, "for I understand that she bringsus our food."
"Wha tell't ye that?" he exclaimed, turning upon me sharply and lapsinginto 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 twotogether."
"Did I?" he exclaimed. "Well, ye maun guess nae mair; dinna forget thisis the Sabbath day."
Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times Page 11