Chapter Forty.
BABBIE AND MARGARET--DEFENCE OF THE MANSE CONTINUED.
The Egyptian was mournful in Windyghoul, up which she had once dancedand sung; but you must not think that she still feared Dow. I feltMcKenzie's clutch on my arm for hours after he left me, but she wasfar braver than I; indeed, dangers at which I should have shut my eyesonly made hers gleam, and I suppose it was sheer love of them thatfirst made her play the coquette with Gavin. If she cried now, it wasnot for herself; it was because she thought she had destroyed him.Could I have gone to her then and said that Gavin wanted to blot outthe gypsy wedding, that throbbing little breast would have frozen atonce, and the drooping head would have been proud again, and she wouldhave gone away forever without another tear.
What do I say? I am doing a wrong to the love these two bore eachother. Babbie would not have taken so base a message from my lips. Hewould have had to say the words to her himself before she believedthem his. What would he want her to do now? was the only question sheasked herself. To follow him was useless, for in that rain anddarkness two people might have searched for each other all night in asingle field. That he would go to the Spittal, thinking her inRintoul's dogcart, she did not doubt; and his distress was painful toher to think of. But not knowing that the burns were in flood, sheunderestimated his danger.
Remembering that the mudhouse was near, she groped her way to it,meaning to pass the night there; but at the gate she turned awayhastily, hearing from the door the voice of a man she did not know tobe Nanny's brother. She wandered recklessly a short distance, untilthe rain began to threaten again, and then, falling on her knees inthe broom, she prayed to God for guidance. When she rose she set offfor the manse.
The rain that followed the flash of lightning had brought Margaret tothe kitchen.
"Jean, did you ever hear such a rain? It is trying to break into themanse."
"I canna hear you, ma'am; is it the rain you're feared at?"
"What else could it be?"
Jean did not answer.
"I hope the minister won't leave the church, Jean, till this isover?"
"Nobody would daur, ma'am. The rain'll turn the key on them all."
Jean forced out these words with difficulty, for she knew that thechurch had been empty and the door locked for over an hour.
"This rain has come as if in answer to the minister's prayer, Jean."
"It wasna rain like this they wanted."
"Jean, you would not attempt to guide the Lord's hand. The ministerwill have to reprove the people for thinking too much of him again,for they will say that he induced God to send the rain. To-night'smeeting will be remembered long in Thrums."
Jean shuddered, and said, "It's mair like an ordinary rain now,ma'am."
"But it has put out your fire, and I wanted another heater. Perhapsthe one I have is hot enough, though."
Margaret returned to the parlor, and from the kitchen Jean could hearthe heater tilted backward and forward in the box-iron--a pleasant,homely sound when there is happiness in the house. Soon she heard astep outside, however, and it was followed by a rough shaking of thebarred door.
"Is it you, Mr. Dishart?" Jean asked nervously.
"It's me, Tammas Whamond," the precentor answered. "Unbar the door."
"What do you want? Speak low."
"I winna speak low. Let me in. I hae news for the minister's mother."
"What news?" demanded Jean.
"Jean Proctor, as chief elder of the kirk I order you to let me do myduty."
"Whaur's the minister?"
"He's a minister no longer. He's married a gypsy woman and run awa wi'her."
"You lie, Tammas Whamond. I believe----"
"Your belief's of no consequence. Open the door, and let me in to tellyour mistress what I hae seen."
"She'll hear it first frae his ain lips if she hears it ava. I winnaopen the door."
"Then I'll burst it open."
Whamond flung himself at the door, and Jean, her fingers rigid withfear, stood waiting for its fall. But the rain came to her rescue bylashing the precentor until even he was forced to run from it.
"I'll be back again," he cried. "Woe to you, Jean Proctor, that haedenied your God this nicht."
"Who was that speaking to you, Jean?" asked Margaret, re-entering thekitchen. Until the rain abated Jean did not attempt to answer.
"I thought it was the precentor's voice," Margaret said.
Jean was a poor hand at lying, and she stuttered in her answer.
"There is nothing wrong, is there?" cried Margaret, in sudden fright."My son----"
"Nothing, nothing."
The words jumped from Jean to save Margaret from falling. Now shecould not take them back. "I winna believe it o' him," said Jean toherself. "Let them say what they will, I'll be true to him; and whenhe comes back he'll find her as he left her."
"It was Lang Tammas," she answered her mistress; "but he just came tosay that----"
"Quick, Jean! what?"
"----Mr. Dishart has been called to a sick-bed in the country,ma'am--to the farm o' Look-About-You; and as it's sic a rain, he's tobide there a' nicht."
"And Whamond came through that rain to tell me this? How good of him.Was there any other message?"
"Just that the minister hoped you would go straight to your bed,ma'am," said Jean, thinking to herself, "There can be no great sin ingiving her one mair happy nicht; it may be her last."
The two women talked for a short time, and then read verse about inthe parlor from the third chapter of Mark.
"This is the first night we have been left alone in the manse,"Margaret said, as she was retiring to her bedroom, "and we must notgrudge the minister to those who have sore need of him. I notice thatyou have barred the doors."
"Ay, they're barred. Nobody can win in the nicht."
"Nobody will want in, Jean," Margaret said, smiling.
"I dinna ken about that," answered Jean below her breath. "Ay, ma'am,may you sleep for baith o' us this nicht, for I daurna gang to mybed."
Jean was both right and wrong, for two persons wanted in within thenext half-hour, and she opened the door to both of them. The first tocome was Babbie.
So long as women sit up of nights listening for a footstep, will theyflatten their faces at the window, though all without be black. Jeanhad not been back in the kitchen for two minutes before she raisedthe blind. Her eyes were close to the glass, when she saw another facealmost meet hers, as you may touch your reflection in a mirror. Butthis face was not her own. It was white and sad. Jean suppressed acry, and let the blind fall, as if shutting the lid on some uncannything.
"Won't you let me in?" said a voice that might have been only the sobof a rain-beaten wind; "I am nearly drowned."
Jean stood like death; but her suppliant would not pass on.
"You are not afraid?" the voice continued. "Raise the blind again, andyou will see that no one need fear me."
At this request Jean's hands sought each other's company behind herback.
"Wha are you?" she asked, without stirring. "Are you--the woman?"
"Yes."
"Whaur's the minister?"
The rain again became wild, but this time it only tore by the manse asif to a conflict beyond.
"Are you aye there? I daurna let you in till I'm sure the mistress isbedded. Gang round to the front, and see if there's ony licht burningin the high west window."
"There was a light," the voice said presently, "but it was turned outas I looked."
"Then I'll let you in, and God kens I mean no wrang by it."
Babbie entered shivering, and Jean rebarred the door. Then she lookedlong at the woman whom her master loved. Babbie was on her knees atthe hearth, holding out her hands to the dead fire.
"What a pity it's a fause face."
"Do I look so false?"
"Is it true? You're no married to him?"
"Yes, it is true."
"And yet you look as if you was fond o' him. If yo
u cared for him, howcould you do it?"
"That was why I did it."
"And him could hae had wha he liked."
"I gave up Lord Rintoul for him."
"What? Na, na; you're the Egyptian."
"You judge me by my dress."
"And soaking it is. How you're shivering--what neat fingers--whatbonny little feet. I could near believe what you tell me. Aff wi'these rags, an I'll gie you on my black frock, if--if you promise meno to gang awa wi't."
So Babbie put on some clothes of Jean's, including the black frock,and stockings and shoes.
"Mr. Dishart cannot be back, Jean," she said, "before morning, and Idon't want his mother to see me till he comes."
"I wouldna let you near her the nicht though you gaed on your knees tome. But whaur is he?"
Babbie explained why Gavin had set off for the Spittal; but Jean shookher head incredulously, saying, "I canna believe you're that grandleddy, and yet ilka time I look at you I could near believe it."
In another minute Jean had something else to think of, for there camea loud rap upon the front door.
"It's Tammas Whamond back again," she moaned; "and if the mistresshears, she'll tell me to let him in."
"You shall open to me," cried a hoarse voice.
"That's no Tammas' word," Jean said in bewilderment.
"It is Lord Rintoul," Babbie whispered.
"What? Then it's truth you telled me."
The knocking continued; a door upstairs opened, and Margaret spokeover the banisters.
"Have you gone to bed, Jean? Some one is knocking at the door, and aminute ago I thought I heard a carriage stop close by. Perhaps thefarmer has driven Mr. Dishart home."
"I'm putting on my things, ma'am," Jean answered; then whispered toBabbie, "What's to be done?"
"He won't go away," Babbie answered. "You will have to let him intothe parlor, Jean. Can she see the door from up there?"
"No; but though he was in the parlor?"
"I shall go to him there."
"Make haste, Jean," Margaret called. "If it is any persons wantingshelter, we must give it them on such a night."
"A minute, ma'am," Jean answered. To Babbie she whispered, "What shallI say to her?"
"I--I don't know," answered Babbie ruefully. "Think of something,Jean. But open the door now. Stop, let me into the parlor first."
The two women stole into the parlor.
"Tell me what will be the result o' his coming here," entreated Jean.
"The result," Babbie said firmly, "will be that he shall go away andleave me here."
Margaret heard Jean open the front door and speak to some person orpersons whom she showed into the parlor.