*CHAPTER XLIII*
*BY THE TOWER OF LINCLUDEN*
Under my feet was dry crisp sand, and knowing that I was in perfectsafety I lay down at full length. I could sleep here undisturbed. Marywas in good hands: I had Hector's word for that, and ere long I knewthat I should see her again and be able to claim her for my very own.When I was able to tear my thoughts away from the enchanted dreams ofour reunion, I fell upon sullen doubt. We should be in daily peril solong as we continued to remain in Scotland. There was nothing for itbut to escape from this tortured land. But how? I knew the ports werewatched, and I had heard how the roads that led to the border werepatrolled by the dragoons. Mary's escape and mine would spur thepersecutors to measures more stern. At whatever risk, we must attemptto get to England. There lay safety. And then I thought of Hector.Hector, the resourceful, the indomitable, would find a way; and withthis thought in my mind, I settled down to sleep.
How long I slept I cannot tell, but when I awoke and felt the sandbeneath me and, reaching out, touched upon either hand rough walls ofstone, I thought for a moment that I had been buried alive. Then Iremembered where I was.
I crawled along the passage until I was beneath the steps. A faintlittle feather of light came through the chinks between them and fromits tenuousness I judged that it was night. I must have slept allthrough the day. Cautiously I swung round the step and crawled outuntil I stood within the precincts of the Abbey beneath the Gothicwindow.
The sky was studded with stars. I judged that I might with safety gofurther afield to stretch my limbs, so I stole out of the Abbey andwalked across the level lawn until I came to the edge of the river. Itmoved silently through the darkness, so slowly as to seem asleep, and Ithought of my own quiet Avon. I walked along the bank to the point wherethe Cluden steals silently into the bosom of the shining Nith, to flowon with it, one and indivisible, to the sea.
I followed the course of the stream downward until the black, stillsurface of the College pool lay at my feet. As I stood there I listenedto the faint murmur of the river as it flowed at the foot of the banksbeneath. There was love in its language, and I, whose heart was aglowwith love, could hear and understand. The Nith was whispering to theCluden, adrowse in its arms, such little tender messages as soon Ishould be whispering to my beloved. I drifted away upon the soft wingsof reverie to a land of dreams, but I was brought back suddenly byhearing afar off the sound of the town clock. I counted its strokes. Itwas midnight. Midnight! and there was no sign of Hector; nor had I yetseen Mary! What could have happened to them? Had disaster befallenthem, and were all the high hopes which I had formed doomed yet to bebrought to the ground? I dared not think so, and, to rid myself of myfears, I threw off my clothing and with a running leap plunged headforemost into the College Pool. The coldness of the water stung me likea lash, but there was refreshment in it, and with hope once more ontip-toe, I yielded myself to the enjoyment of the moment, and swam untilthe stiffness left my limbs. Then I made for the bank again, and when Ihad dressed sought my hiding-place. Sometime ere dawn, I imagined,Hector would come to me, with news of Mary. With this hope in my mind Isat in my gloomy vault waiting patiently. Hour after hour went by, andstill he did not come, and at last sleep overcame me and I sank intodreamland again. When love sits on the throne of a man's heart,dreamland is his empire, and on winged feet I wandered with Mary at myside, through the meads, flower-dappled, of that bewitching land. Then Iwoke again, and realised that it was a dream and that nothing surroundedme but darkness.
Once more I crawled beneath the stair and peeped out. It was broad day,but still Hector had not come. Then fear seized me. Had he fallen intothe hands of Lag and been done to death? Was the price of my freedom tobe his life, and if he had been taken, where was Mary? I had hisassurance that she was in a place of safety. There was comfort in thatknowledge. But the comfort was alloyed by the thought that I had noknowledge whatever of her whereabouts and that she was lost to me. Iwas almost tempted to throw caution to the winds, and quit myhiding-place in broad daylight to go in search of them both. Istretched out my hand to seize the step and swing it back, and thendiscretion returned to me and I refrained. Any rashness now might bringto nothing all we had accomplished. I must wait. There was nothing forit but patience and unwavering trust. Every hour that dragged its wearylength along was leaden with torpor. Would the day never come to anend? Hector, I knew, was not likely to come to me save under the screenof the darkness, and the darkness seemed very far off. The longest day,however, draws sometime to a close, and at last the rays of lightstealing through the chinks in the staircase ceased to be burnishedspears and were transmuted into uncertain plumes of smoke. The hour oftwilight had come; soon darkness would envelop the earth, and with thedarkness Hector might come. I crawled out of the confined space in whichI was lying and sought the deeper part of the passage. As I did so, Iheard a grating sound. Someone was moving the step. It must be Hector!Yet in that moment of tense expectation I kept a grip upon myself anddid not move. If, instead of Hector, it should prove to be somemurderous pursuer on my track, I knew that in this darkness, to which myeyes through long imprisonment had become accustomed, I should have theadvantage and might fall upon him unawares. A voice spoke and my fearswere set at naught. The packman had come!
"Are you there?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered.
"Ha'e you got my Horace?"
"Confound Horace and all his works! Where is Mary?"
"Mary, the bonnie lass! she's a' richt. Ye micht trust me for that.Ye'll be seein' her in less than half an 'oor. Where's my book?"
I handed him the volume, and though I could not see him I guessed fromthe sound of the leaves fluttering through his fingers that he wasexamining it carefully.
"It seems to be nane the waur, except that the corner o' ane o' itsbraids is broken. Man, it's a lucky thing for you that I'm a scholar,and carry Horace wi' me. When I got tired o' waitin' for ye at thetrysting-place, I thocht that something must ha'e gane wrang, so I gaeddoon to the Tolbooth to ha'e a look for mysel'. I got a terrible shockwhen I struck my foot on the file you had dropped. I thocht a' was upthen; but it didna tak' me lang to mak' up my mind. At first I thochto' flingin' the file through the window, then I thocht that if I missedit would mak' an unco' clatter and micht waken somebody, so I fell backupon Horace and he served. I put the book through the window at thesecond shot, which is no' bad for an auld man, as ye will dootlessadmit; and here ye are in safety. Mony a time Horace has fetched me ooto' the dungeons o' despondency, but I never kent him help a body oot o'the Dumfries Tolbooth afore."
The garrulous fellow would doubtless have continued longer in a likestrain, but I would have none of it. My heart was crying for my lovedone. "Tell me," I exclaimed, "where is Mary?"
"Come on," he said with a laugh, "and see for yoursel'."
He led the way out into the open and I followed close behind him. As weemerged a man approached us out of the darkness. I started and laid ahand upon Hector's arm.
"There's naething to fear," he said. "It's only the minister frae thecave at the Linn. He's come to mairry you."
"To marry me," I exclaimed. "Who has arranged it?"
"I ha'e nae doot," answered Hector, "Mary and you arranged it lang syneon the braes at Daldowie. A' I ha'e dune is to mak' your arrangementspossible."
My heart was full.
The minister greeted me warmly, and together the three of us made forthe summit of the little knoll beside the Abbey. While Mr. Corsane wascongratulating me upon my escape and upon the rescue of Mary, thepackman had turned his back upon us and was gazing earnestly towards themouth of the Cluden. As we talked he interrupted us suddenly by saying:
"They're coming noo, I can see them." Along the edge of the bank belowus, three figures were moving. Soon they had begun to ascend the knoll.
"Mary's there," said Hector, "and the twa wi' her are the go
od-man o'Nunholm and his better three-quarters."
I sprang towards the advancing figures and calling "Mary," clasped herin my arms. There are moments too sacred for speech. I could only kissher. Then linking my arm through hers I helped her to the top of themound.
There in the aisle of the trees with the light of the kindly starsfiltering through and falling on the ground with a holier radiance thanever streamed through the east window of a cathedral, the minister madeus one. He could not unite our hearts. That had been done long ago.He could only join our hands.
Hector, as ever, proved himself to be a friend in need, for, when themoment came for me to place a ring upon Mary's finger, I realised with apang that I had none. But Hector slipped one into my hesitating hand,whispering, "It was meant for the widda." The simple service was soonover, but ere he gave us his blessing the minister said:
"In quieter times, when I, please God, am restored to my parish, yourmarriage will be registered in the records of my church at Minniehive:meantime I declare you man and wife in the sight of God and according tothe laws of this realm." Then he raised his hand to bless us.
I turned to embrace my wife; but Hector was before me. He kissed herloudly upon both cheeks, and as he yielded her shrinking form to mesaid: "Nae need o' my salve there. They're as saft as the damask rose."
"For ever, dearest," I whispered, as she clung to me.
"My ain dear man," she breathed; and on her warm cheek close pressedagainst my own I felt a tear. I folded her in my arms.
"My children," said the minister, drawing near is, "I must leave younow, and get me back to my hiding-place: but may He who brought joy tothe wedding feast at Cana of Galilee company with you all the days ofyour lives. Good-bye." He turned, and was gone.
"Now," said Hector, "we maun hurry. We ha'e a lang road to travel aforedaybreak. Come on."
Together we began to hasten down the hill, and soon were at the edge ofthe river close to the mouth of the Cluden. The good wife of Nunholmand her husband led the way. I took Mary in my arms and carried herthrough the water behind them. No man ever bore a burden more precious.Her arms were about my neck. In mid-stream I paused and, bending,kissed her. I had forgotten Hector behind us.
He sighed. "Ay. It mak's me jealous. I wish the widda was here. Butye've a hale life-time o' that afore ye, so haste ye, for we're no ooto' danger yet."
Mary smiled proudly up at me in the moonlight. "Nae danger maitters noo.But let us haste."
When we came to the bank on the other side, the farmer led the way to ahedge and we passed through a gap into a field across which we hurriedtogether. In a few minutes we found ourselves beside a littlefarm-house.
"Come awa' ben," said the farmer's wife, throwing the door open. "It'sno' a very grand wedding feast, but it'll dae to set you on the road,and it shall never be said that the guid-wife o' Nunholm lacks inhospitality."
We entered the kitchen and found an ample supper awaiting us. Mary hadendeared herself, and little wonder, to these good folks during the twodays she had spent with them, and they were full of anxiety for hersafety.
We made all the haste we could through the meal, and when it was nearlyover the door was thrown wide to the wall and a shock-headed lad thrusthis body in. The farmer turned to him: "Is a' richt, Ebenezer?" heasked.
"Ay, faither, there's no' a trooper between here and Dumfries."
We finished our meal, and bade the good wife and her husband anaffectionate farewell, the former insisting on Mary's wrapping herselfin her own best plaid.
"Ye've a long road to travel, lassie," she said, "and ye maunna catchcauld. Tak' it as a keepsake, and if ye're ever back in these pairts,dinna forget tae come and see me."
I thanked the good man and his wife for their kindness to us, and,Hector leading, we went out into the night.
Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times Page 43