The Little Minister

  Chapter Twenty-One.

  NIGHT--MARGARET--FLASHING OF A LANTERN.

  That evening the little minister sat silently in his parlour. Darknesscame, and with it weavers rose heavy-eyed from their looms, sleepychildren sought their mothers, and the gate of the field above themanse fell forward to let cows pass to their byre; the great Bible wasproduced in many homes, and the ten o'clock bell clanged its last wordto the night. Margaret had allowed the lamp to burn low. Thinking thather boy slept, she moved softly to his side and spread her shawl overhis knees. He had forgotten her. The doctor's warnings scarcelytroubled him. He was Babbie's lover. The mystery of her was only aveil hiding her from other men, and he was looking through it upon theface of his beloved.

  It was a night of long ago, but can you not see my dear Margaret stillas she bends over her son? Not twice in many days dared the ministersnatch a moment's sleep from grey morning to midnight, and, when thisdid happen, he jumped up by-and-by in shame, to revile himself for anidler and ask his mother wrathfully why she had not tumbled him out ofhis chair? To-night Margaret was divided between a desire to let himsleep and a fear of his self-reproach when he awoke; and so, perhaps,the tear fell that roused him.

  "I did not like to waken you," Margaret said, apprehensively. "Youmust have been very tired, Gavin?"

  "I was not sleeping, mother," he said, slowly. "I was only thinking."

  "Ah, Gavin, you never rise from your loom. It is hardly fair that yourhands should be so full of other people's troubles."

  "They only fill one hand, mother; I carry the people's joys in theother hand, and that keeps me erect, like a woman between her pan andpitcher. I think the joys have outweighed the sorrows since we camehere."

  "It has been all joy to me, Gavin, for you never tell me of thesorrows. An old woman has no right to be so happy."

  "Old woman, mother!" said Gavin. But his indignation was vain.Margaret was an old woman. I made her old before her time.

  "As for these terrible troubles," he went on, "I forget them themoment I enter the garden and see you at your window. And, maybe, Ikeep some of the joys from you as well as the troubles."

  Words about Babbie leaped to his mouth, but with an effort herestrained them. He must not tell his mother of her until Babbie ofher free will had told him all there was to tell.

  "I have been a selfish woman, Gavin."

  "You selfish, mother!" Gavin said, smiling. "Tell me when you did notthink of others before yourself?"

  "Always, Gavin. Has it not been selfishness to hope that you wouldnever want to bring another mistress to the manse? Do you remember howangry you used to be in Glasgow when I said that you would marry someday?"

  "I remember," Gavin said, sadly.

  "Yes; you used to say, 'Don't speak of such a thing, mother, for thehorrid thought of it is enough to drive all the Hebrew out of myhead.' Was not that lightning just now?"

  "I did not see it. What a memory you have, mother, for all the boyishthings I said."

  "I can't deny," Margaret admitted with a sigh, "that I liked to hearyou speak in that way, though I knew you would go back on your word.You see, you have changed already."

  "How, mother?" asked Gavin, surprised.

  "You said just now that those were boyish speeches. Gavin, I can'tunderstand the mothers who are glad to see their sons married; thoughI had a dozen I believe it would be a wrench to lose one of them. Itwould be different with daughters. You are laughing, Gavin!"

  "Yes, at your reference to daughters. Would you not have preferred meto be a girl?"

  "'Deed I would not," answered Margaret, with tremendous conviction."Gavin, every woman on earth, be she rich or poor, good or bad, offersup one prayer about her firstborn, and that is, 'May he be a boy!'"

  "I think you are wrong, mother. The banker's wife told me that thereis nothing for which she thanks the Lord so much as that all herchildren are girls."

  "May she be forgiven for that, Gavin!" exclaimed Margaret; "though shemaybe did right to put the best face on her humiliation. No, no, thereare many kinds of women in the world, but there never was one yet thatdidn't want to begin with a laddie. You can speculate about a boy somuch more than about a girl. Gavin, what is it a woman thinks aboutthe day her son is born? yes, and the day before too? She is picturinghim a grown man, and a slip of a lassie taking him from her. Ay, thatis where the lassies have their revenge on the mothers. I remember asif it were this morning a Harvie fishwife patting your head and askingwho was your sweetheart, and I could never thole the woman again. Wewere at the door of the cottage, and I mind I gripped you up in myarms. You had on a tartan frock with a sash and diamond socks. When Ilook back, Gavin, it seems to me that you have shot up from that frockto manhood in a single hour."

  "There are not many mothers like you," Gavin said, laying his handfondly on Margaret's shoulder.

  "There are many better mothers, but few such sons. It is easily seenwhy God could not afford me another. Gavin, I am sure that waslightning."

  "I think it was; but don't be alarmed, mother."

  "I am never frightened when you are with me."

  "And I always will be with you."

  "Ah, if you were married----"

  "Do you think," asked Gavin, indignantly, "that it would make anydifference to you?"

  Margaret did not answer. She knew what a difference it would make.

  "Except," continued Gavin, with a man's obtuseness, "that you wouldhave a daughter as well as a son to love you and take care of you."

  Margaret could have told him that men give themselves away needlesslywho marry for the sake of their mother, but all she said was--

  "Gavin, I see you can speak more composedly of marrying now than youspoke a year ago. If I did not know better, I should think a Thrumsyoung lady had got hold of you."

  It was a moment before Gavin replied; then he said, gaily--

  "Really, mother, the way the best of women speak of each other islamentable. You say I should be better married, and then you take forgranted that every marriageable woman in the neighbourhood is tryingto kidnap me. I am sure you did not take my father by force in thatway."

  He did not see that Margaret trembled at the mention of his father. Henever knew that she was many times pining to lay her head upon hisbreast and tell him of me. Yet I cannot but believe that she alwaysshook when Adam Dishart was spoken of between them. I cannot thinkthat the long-cherishing of the secret which was hers and mine kepther face steady when that horror suddenly confronted her as now. Gavinwould have suspected much had he ever suspected anything.

  "I know," Margaret said, courageously, "that you would be bettermarried; but when it comes to selecting the woman I grow fearful. OGavin!" she said, earnestly, "it is an awful thing to marry the wrongman!"

  Here in a moment had she revealed much, though far from all, and theremust have been many such moments between them. But Gavin was thinkingof his own affairs.

  "You mean the wrong woman, don't you, mother?" he said, and shehastened to agree. But it was the wrong man she meant.

  "The difficulty, I suppose, is to hit upon the right one?" Gavin said,blithely.

  "To know which is the right one in time," answered Margaret, solemnly."But I am saying nothing against the young ladies of Thrums, Gavin.Though I have scarcely seen them, I know there are good women amongthem. Jean says----"

  "I believe, mother," Gavin interposed, reproachfully, "that you havebeen questioning Jean about them?"

  "Just because I was afraid--I mean because I fancied--you might betaking a liking to one of them."

  "And what is Jean's verdict?"

  "She says every one of them would jump at you, like a bird at aberry."

  "But the berry cannot be divided. How would Miss Pennycuick pleaseyou, mother?"

  "Gavin!" cried Margaret, in consternation, "you don't mean to----Butyou are laughing at me again."

  "Then there is the banker's daughter?"

  "I can't thole her."

  "Why, I questi
on if you ever set eyes on her, mother."

  "Perhaps not, Gavin; but I have suspected her ever since she offeredto become one of your tract distributors."

  "The doctor," said Gavin, not ill-pleased, "was saying that either ofthese ladies would suit me."

  "What business has he," asked Margaret, vindictively, "to put suchthoughts into your head?"

  "But he only did as you are doing. Mother, I see you will never besatisfied without selecting the woman for me yourself."

  "Ay, Gavin," said Margaret, earnestly; "and I question if I should besatisfied even then. But I am sure I should be a better guide to youthan Dr. McQueen is."

  "I am convinced of that. But I wonder what sort of woman would contentyou?"

  "Whoever pleased you, Gavin, would content me," Margaret ventured tomaintain. "You would only take to a clever woman."

  "She must be nearly as clever as you, mother."

  "Hoots, Gavin," said Margaret, smiling, "I'm not to be caught withchaff. I am a stupid, ignorant woman."

  "Then I must look out for a stupid, ignorant woman, for that seems tobe the kind I like," answered Gavin, of whom I may confess heresomething that has to be told sooner or later. It is this: he neverrealised that Babbie was a great deal cleverer than himself. Forgivehim, you who read, if you have any tolerance for the creature, man.

  "She will be terribly learned in languages," pursued Margaret, "sothat she may follow you in your studies, as I have never been able todo."

  "Your face has helped me more than Hebrew, mother," replied Gavin. "Iwill give her no marks for languages."

  "At any rate," Margaret insisted, "she must be a grand housekeeper,and very thrifty."

  "As for that," Gavin said, faltering a little, "one can't expect it ofa mere girl."

  "I should expect it," maintained his mother.

  "No, no; but she would have you," said Gavin, happily, "to teach herhousekeeping."

  "It would be a pleasant occupation to me, that," Margaret admitted."And she would soon learn: she would be so proud of her position asmistress of a manse."

  "Perhaps," Gavin said, doubtfully. He had no doubt on the subject inhis college days.

  "And we can take for granted," continued his mother, "that she is alassie of fine character."

  "Of course," said Gavin, holding his head high, as if he thought thedoctor might be watching him.

  "I have thought," Margaret went on, "that there was a great deal ofwisdom in what you said at that last marriage in the manse, the onewhere, you remember, the best man and the bridesmaid joined handsinstead of the bride and bridegroom."

  "What did I say?" asked the little minister, with misgivings.

  "That there was great danger when people married out of their own rankof life."

  "Oh--ah--well, of course, that would depend on circumstances."

  "They were wise words, Gavin. There was the sermon, too, that youpreached a month or two ago against marrying into other denominations.Jean told me that it greatly impressed the congregation. It is a sadsight, as you said, to see an Auld Licht lassie changing her faithbecause her man belongs to the U. P.'s."

  "Did I say that?"

  "You did, and it so struck Jean that she told me she would rather bean old maid for life, 'the which,' she said, 'is a dismal prospect,'than marry out of the Auld Licht kirk."

  "Perhaps that was a rather narrow view I took, mother. After all, thefitting thing is that the wife should go with her husband; especiallyif it is he that is the Auld Licht."

  "I don't hold with narrowness myself, Gavin," Margaret said, with aneffort, "and admit that there are many respectable persons in theother denominations. But though a weaver might take a wife fromanother kirk without much scandal, an Auld Licht minister's madam mustbe Auld Licht born and bred. The congregation would expect no less. Idoubt if they would be sure of her if she came from some other AuldLicht kirk. 'Deed, though she came from our own kirk, I'm thinking thesession would want to catechise her. Ay, and if all you tell me ofLang Tammas be true (for, as you know, I never spoke to him), Iwarrant he would catechise the session."

  "I would brook no interference from my session," said Gavin, knittinghis brows, "and I do not consider it necessary that a minister's wifeshould have been brought up in his denomination. Of course she wouldjoin it. We must make allowance, mother, for the thousands of youngwomen who live in places where there is no Auld Licht kirk."

  "You can pity them, Gavin," said Margaret, "without marrying them. Aminister has his congregation to think of."

  "So the doctor says," interposed her son.

  "Then it was just like his presumption!" cried Margaret. "A ministershould marry to please himself."

  "Decidedly he should," Gavin agreed, eagerly, "and the bounden duty ofthe congregation is to respect and honour his choice. If they forgetthat duty, his is to remind them of it."

  "Ah, well, Gavin," said Margaret, confidently, "your congregation areso fond of you that your choice would doubtless be theirs. Jean tellsme that even Lang Tammas, though he is so obstinate, has a love foryou passing the love of woman. These were her words. Jean is moresentimental than you might think."

  "I wish he would show his love," said Gavin, "by contradicting me lessfrequently."

  "You have Rob Dow to weigh against him."

  "No; I cannot make out what has come over Rob lately. He is drinkingheavily again, and avoiding me. The lightning is becoming veryvivid."

  "Yes, and I hear no thunder. There is another thing, Gavin. I am oneof those that like to sit at home, but if you had a wife she wouldvisit the congregation. A truly religious wife would be a great helpto you."

  "Religious," Gavin repeated slowly. "Yes, but some people arereligious without speaking of it. If a woman is good she is religious.A good woman who has been, let us say, foolishly brought up, onlyneeds to be shown the right way to tread it. Mother, I question if anyman, minister or layman, ever yet fell in love because the woman wasthrifty, or clever, or went to church twice on Sabbath."

  "I believe that is true," Margaret said, "and I would not have itotherwise. But it is an awful thing, Gavin, as you said from thepulpit two weeks ago, to worship only at a beautiful face."

  "You think too much about what I say in the pulpit, mother," Gavinsaid, with a sigh, "though of course a man who fell in love merelywith a face would be a contemptible creature. Yet I see that women donot understand how beauty affects a man."

  "Yes, yes, my boy--oh, indeed, they do," said Margaret, who on somematters knew far more than her son.

  Twelve o'clock struck, and she rose to go to bed, alarmed lest sheshould not waken early in the morning. "But I am afraid I shan'tsleep," she said, "if that lightning continues."

  "It is harmless," Gavin answered, going to the window. He started backnext moment, and crying, "Don't look out, mother," hastily pulled downthe blind.

  "Why, Gavin," Margaret said in fear, "you look as if it had struckyou."

  "Oh, no," Gavin answered, with a forced laugh, and he lit her lamp forher.

  But it had struck him, though it was not lightning. It was theflashing of a lantern against the window to attract his attention, andthe holder of the lantern was Babbie.

  "Good-night, mother."

  "Good-night, Gavin. Don't sit up any later."