*CHAPTER XXIII*
*THE SEARCH*
During the morning meal we discussed what was to be done. None of usknew to which hiding-place Andrew had taken the fugitive. There were,however, two possibilities; he might have taken him to a remote cornerof the moor which Mary knew, whither, on occasion, she had aforetimeborne food to some hidden fugitive. I had never been to thishiding-place, but I knew the way to the hill-top where my own retreathad been. In the end, we decided that Jean should remain at Daldowie,while Mary made her way across the moor to the one hiding-place and Iwent to the other. Jean would fain have joined in the search, but wemade her see the wisdom of remaining at the farm.
"I suppose you're richt," she said, "but it's dreary wark sittin' idle."
I seized my stick, Mary threw her plaid over her shoulders, and togetherwe were about to set out, when Jean spoke suddenly.
"Can ye cry like a whaup?" she asked, addressing herself to me.
"Yes," said Mary, "I had forgotten; that is the sign--three whaup callsand a pause while you can count ten, then twa whaup calls and a pauseagain, then three whaup calls aince mair. That," she said, "is a signalthat we settled on long ago," and pursing her mouth she gave a whaupcall so clear and true that it might have come from the throat of abird.
"Yes," I said, "I can cry like a whaup. But when am I to use thesignal?"
"You had best try it every now and then; for somewhere on the way it mayreach the ears of Andra. He'll ken it an' answer ye in the same way,and ye'll ken you've found him."
Mary took her mother in her arms and kissed her. If she had been givento tears I know that her eyes would have brimmed over then; but thebrave old woman bore herself stoutly.
"Ye'll tak' care o' yoursels, bairns," she said, "and even if yeshouldna find Andra, be sure to come back afore nicht. If you dinnameet him on the hills, you'll likely find him at his ain fireside whenye get back again."
So we set out. For a time our paths led in the same direction and whenwe came to the edge of the moor Mary sent her whaup calls sailingthrough the morning air. We waited, but there was no reply; then wewalked on together. She was very quiet, and anything I could find tosay seemed strangely empty: but I slipped my arm through hers and shereturned its pressure gently, so that I knew she could hear my heartspeak. All too soon we came to the place where we must separate.
"That," she said, "is where I found you," and she pointed to a greenpatch among the heather.
"Come," I said, and we left the path for a moment and stood togetherthere. In the hush of the morning, with no witness but the larks aboveus, I took her in my arms and kissed her passionately. "Here," I said,"life and love came to me: and happiness beyond all telling,"--and Ikissed her again.
She nestled to me for a moment, then shyly drew herself away. "Has itmeant a' that to you?" she whispered. "Then what has it meant to me? Ithas brocht love into my life, beloved, and love is of God."
I folded her in my arms again, and held her. A little tremor shook heras I bent and kissed her on the brow and eyes and lips. "Flower of theHeather, God keep you," I said. On my little finger was a silver ring.It bore the crest of my house. I drew it off, and taking Mary's hand inmine I slipped it upon her finger and kissed it as it rested there. "Forlove's sweet sake," I said.
She gazed at her finger and then looked at me archly, her wontedplayfulness awaking. "I wonder what faither will say? He'll read me asermon, nae doot, on setting my affections on the things o' this world;but I winna care. A' I want is to find him; and if he likes he canpreach at me till the crack o' doom."
I smiled at her upturned face. "And when we find him, Mary, as find himwe will, I will ask him to let me marry you."
A light flashed in her eyes that all morning had been strained and sad."Let's find him quick," she said. "Noo we maun awa. That is your road,and this is mine. Good-bye, and God bless you," and she lifted her faceto me.
I would fain have prolonged the happy moment, but reason prompted me tobe strong, so I bent and kissed her fondly, little dreaming of all thesorrow that the future held. At the end she showed herself to be moreresolute than I was, for it was she who tore herself away. I watched asshe sped lightly over the tussocks of heather like a young fawn, then Iturned and took the path she had indicated to me, a path which I hadblindly followed amidst storm and lightning once before. Ere I had gonefar I turned to follow her with my eyes, and as I watched she turned tolook for me. I waved my hand to her, and she waved back to me. Thesunlight fell on that dear head of hers and, even across the distance, Icould see the brown of her hair and the witching coil of gold set likean aureole above her forehead.
I plodded forward steadily, looking to right and left and from time totime uttering the whaup call. But there was no answer; nor did Ianywhere see sign of Andrew. When I turned again to look for Mary shehad passed out of sight and, though I scanned the distance eagerly, Icould catch no glimpse of her.
My path had begun to lead me up the hills and as I went I was consciousthat the strength of my injured limb was not all that I had thought. Onthe level it served me well enough, but on the slopes the strain beganto tell. I was not to be beaten, however, by mere physical pain andstruggled on with all the spirit I could command, though my progress washindered seriously. It was close to noon when I came to the place ofthe hill-meeting where I had first seen Mary face to face. I clambereddown into the hollow. It was a place of hallowed memories. In the hopethat Andrew might be near, I uttered the whaup call: but there was noreply. I sat down, and took from my pocket some of the food with whichJean had provided me, and as I ate I pondered. I was not yet half way tomy destination and the portion of the road that lay before me was harderfar than that along which I had come. I judged that in my crippledstate it would be evening before I could reach the loch-side, and toreturn to Daldowie again that day would be impossible. I dared not goback without having completed my search. To fail of accomplishing mypart of the quest would be disloyalty to the friends to whom I owed mylife.
My absence for a night would doubtless cause them anxiety, and as Ithought of Mary's pain I was sore tempted to abandon my search and turnback to Daldowie at once. But I remembered my debt to Andrew anddetermined that at all costs I should see this matter through to theend.
Possibly Andrew was lying somewhere in my path with a broken limb suchas I myself had sustained, and if I abandoned the search, his deathwould be upon my head. When I considered what Mary would think of me insuch a case, shame smote me; so, without more ado, I set out again andbattled on until, as the sun began to climb down the western sky, Ifound myself within sight of the loch.
Always the twilight hour is the hour of memories, and as I made whathaste I could towards the great sheet of water they crowded in upon me.There, on the right, was the hiding-place which had afforded me shelterfor so many nights: there on a memorable day I had caught sight of Mary,remote yet bewitching: there, on the other side, was the place whereAlexander Main lay sleeping. Then I remembered the mission upon which Ihad come and uttered the whaup call. The sound was flung back by someechoing rock, but there was no response from any human throat. Again Iuttered it, but no answer came; Andrew was not here. I made my wayround the end of the loch and sought the little cairn of stones beneathwhich rested the body of my friend. Taking my bonnet off, I bentreverently above the little mound. He had given his life for me. Had Iyet shown myself worthy of such sacrifice? I plucked a handful of earlyheather, purple in the dying light, and laid it among the grey stones ofthe cairn. Purple is the colour of kings. Then I stole away, and oncemore uttered the whaup call; but there was no answer, save that somemere-fowl rose from the surface of the lake and on flittering, splashingwings, furrowing the water, fled from my presence.
I sought the place where I had hidden aforetime and where but for myfriend I should have been captured by the dragoons. It was undisturbed.No one, apparently, had made use of it s
ince I had been there. In myweary state and with my aching limb, it was useless to try to return toDaldowie in the darkness. Haply Andrew was already safe, with Mary andJean, by his own fireside. I pictured them sitting there; I saw them atthe taking of the Book; I heard Mary's voice leading the singing, and Iknew that to-night they would be singing a psalm of thanksgiving. Iheard again, as I had so often heard when lying in the garret above thekitchen, the scrape of the chairs upon the flagged floor as theworshippers knelt to commit themselves to the care of the EternalFather: and I knew that somewhere in his petitions Andrew would rememberme; and his petition would rise on the soft wings of Mary's faith andsoar above the high battlements of heaven, straight to the ear of God.
I wondered whether my absence would distress them. Mary, I knew, wouldbe on the rack of anxiety. Her mother, no doubt, would be anxious too:but their anxiety would be tempered by the wise counsel of Andrew whowould point out to them, no doubt with emphasis, and possibly with sometart comment on the witlessness of women, that it was not to be expectedthat I, a lamiter, could accomplish such a long journey in the spacebetween daylight and sunsetting. I could hear him say: "I could ha'etellt ye afore he started. The lad's a' richt; but it's a lang road,and would tax even me, an' auld as I am I'm a better man than Bryden onyday."
As I pondered these things the darkness fell, lit by a myriadscintillant stars which mirrored themselves in the depths of the lake sothat as I sat there I seemed to be in the centre of a great hollowsphere, whose roof and floor were studded with innumerable diamonds.For a time I sat feasting my eyes on this enchanting spectacle; then Icrawled into my hiding-place and pillowing my head on a sheaf of deadbracken leaves I composed myself to sleep. I slept heavily and when Iawoke the hour of dawn was long past. Some old instinct made me pushaside the overhanging fronds with a wary hand and peep out cautiously;but there was nothing to be seen except the great rolling hillside. Asof old, the laughing waters of the loch called to me, and soon I wasrevelling in their refreshing coolness.
When I had clambered out I scampered along the edge of the loch till Iwas dry, then putting on my clothing I sat down and breakfasted. I hadnot much food left; hardly enough to blunt my appetite, but I hoped thatI should be able to make good speed on the homeward journey, and that ina few hours I should once again rejoin the expectant household atDaldowie.
Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times Page 23