*CHAPTER XXIV.*
*DELIVERED.*
As it was by no means safe for David Gray to sojourn with his kinsfolkin Edinburgh, he was anxious to get away as soon as possible. AilieKilgour, with a true woman's ingenuity, had decided upon a plan wherebyhe might make the journey by easy stages, and without molestation, toInverburn. Nevertheless, she was somewhat afraid to lay it before hercousin, lest he might laugh at her for her pains. After Adam Hepburn'sdeparture, her father and cousin were sitting discussing ways and meansby the kitchen fire, when she came in, bearing in her hand an oldlinsey-woolsey gown and a faded tartan plaid, which had belonged to hermother.
"All these plans you speak of are too dangerous to be undertaken, CousinDavid," she said. "What do you say to disguising yourself as a femalehawker, and thus pursue your journey, not only with safety, but withprofit?"
In spite of the gravity of his position, David Gray burst into a heartylaugh, such as had not passed his lips for many a day.
"Oh, Cousin Ailie, give me a woman for ingenuity!" he exclaimed. "Butwhat would I make of my beard and my white hair?"
"Follow Adam's example and shave your face smooth and clean," saidAilie. "As for your hair, after it is fastened up under a white cap, itwill the better help your disguise."
"Are you in earnest, Ailie, woman?" queried her father, in no littleamusement.
"Father, I am in dead earnest," she said, soberly. "I have everything todress him with, and when I run out for needles and cotton, and buttonsand other sundries to plenish his basket with, the disguise will becomplete."
David Gray had for a moment fancied his cousin merely joking, but seeingshe was in earnest, the feasibility and even the wisdom and clevernessof her suggestion appeared to him quite plainly.
"Cousin Ailie, I believe I will try your plan," he said, suddenly. "Iwill at least put on the disguise and see what manner of a woman Ipresent."
Much pleased, Ailie ran to the adjoining room for the other articles ofattire, and brought also her father's shaving things, in order that hercousin might remove his beard. She then retired, and after abouthalf-an-hour they called to her to come and see the disguise. When shelooked upon the complete and wonderful transformation it had made, shenearly clapped her hands with delight. The minister was certainly atall woman, but in every other respect he was the exact picture of whathe wished to represent.
Ailie took her little tartan neckerchief from her shoulders, tied itabove the white cap, and then retired back to admire the effect.
"Cousin David, that is just the finishing touch!" she exclaimed, in nosmall glee. "Your appearance would deceive the cleverest person in theworld, I am sure. You look exactly like an aged dame who has weathereda good many storms on the road. If you don't reach Inverburn in safetyin my mother's old gown, my name isn't Ailie Kilgour."
"What say you, Uncle Edward?" asked David Gray, turning to the old man.
"Truly, lad, the deception is most wonderful," he replied. "Of courseit is hardly a fitting thing for a minister of the kirk to tramp thecountry in an old wife's gown, but desperate ills need desperateremedies. So I would say, take the lassie's advice, and God go withyou."
"Well, I will," said David Gray, "for in my own person and garb I amconvinced I should never reach Inverburn alive, nor, indeed, get beyondthe environs of Edinburgh."
"You said the pursuers went by the Lanark road," said Ailie. "Your planwill be to go to Stirling, and then across the moors. I daresay youwill find the way."
"Easily," responded David Gray, cheerfully. "You are a clever,far-seeing woman, cousin; the thought of such a disguise would neverhave entered my head."
"It will be a great joy to me, Cousin David, if I am rewarded by savingyour life," she said, with a smile and a tear, and so the matter wassettled.
All that day David Gray remained in hiding in his uncle's abode, andearly on the following morning he bade them both a warm farewell, andset out upon his journey back to his native place. As Ailie watched thegaunt, uncouth-looking figure with the basket and the big cottonumbrella stalking down the street, the very picture of a practisedpeddling woman, she scarcely knew whether to laugh or cry. So a woman'singenuity twice outwitted the sharpness of the Government.
We have been long absent from the vale of Inverburn, yet truly nothingof note was happening there, only a dreary and despairing waiting forthe dawning of a brighter day, occasionally deepened and intensified bysome deed of violence or brutal pillage executed by the dragoons, whoinfested the entire west of Scotland. Since the fateful day of Bothwellseverities had been increased, greater licence given to the soldiery,and less mercy extended to the suffering country folk, whether therewere anything against them or not. Along the entire course of the Clydethe country presented a most dismal aspect. In place of smilinghomesteads and rich and fertile fields, there was nothing to be seen butsmouldering ruins and tract upon tract of desolate wastes, which had notbeen upturned by the plough for many a year. The population, though nowsadly thinned, was in a state bordering upon starvation, everything theyhad formerly possessed having been stolen from them, and every means ofsubsistence removed. Yet still it seemed as if the words of Scripturemust needs be literally fulfilled, since from him that had not was takeneven that which he had. Hundreds had no shelter in the wide earth savethat afforded by glens and caves and mountain fastnesses, and even therethey were not safe.
The farm of Hartrigge had not escaped these later desolations, for nowall that remained of that once substantial and even imposing homesteadwas one cot-house, which had escaped the flames on account of it beingdetached from the main buildings, and having thus been overlooked by theruffians, who, after pillaging the entire place, had set it on fire.
In this humble abode dwelt the widow of Andrew Gray, his sister Jane,and a young lad with his sister, the Sandy and wee Nannie, who had beenso dear to their father's heart. Jeanie was now safe with her fatherand Gavin in that land where eternal peace abides. The bairn's heartseemed to be weighed down by the things happening around her, and shejust faded away.
Strange as it may seem, the few yet remaining who loved her on earth sawher depart with gladness, for it had come to that pass in poor strickenScotland that he who lay down to die was accounted much more to beenvied than he who was preserved alive.
One beautiful evening towards the end of July, Susan Gray and hersister-in-law, Jane, were sitting together on the bench outside theircottage door, with their hands lying idle on their laps, a thing theywould have accounted a sin in the days of the happy past. But now therewas nothing for hands to do, and life was at times a very weariness.These troublous years had wrought a woeful change upon both those women,and had aged them long before their time. Also upon the face of SusanGray there appeared at times a vague, wandering kind of expression,which seemed to indicate a weakness of the mind, and verily it was notgreatly to be wondered at that the nerves of women-folk should be unableto bear the awful strain upon them.
They were not conversing together, for such sorrows as theirs will notbear to be spoken of by the lips; there was a hopeless, purposeless lookabout them, which was painful in the contrast it presented to theirbusy, cheerful energy of long ago.
"See Jane!" said Susan Gray, presently. "Is not that a figure on theroad? Is it Sandy or the bairn Nannie? They should be on their wayhome from the village now."
"No; it is a taller figure than either of the bairns," replied Jane."It is a woman, and she has a basket on her arm."
"Is she like a gangerel [tramp], Jane? She need hardly come hereseeking now," said Susan, listlessly.
"Yes, she looks like that. There are not many of her kind on the roadsnow," said Jane. Then they relapsed into silence, and so sat until thewoman with the basket appeared on the path in front of the cottage door.Susan Gray only gave her a careless look, and then went into thecottage, leaving Jane to deal with her.
"My woman, ye need hardly have come t
his length with your basket," saidJane Gray, kindly, and looking compassionately at the evidences offatigue on her face. "The wherewithal is much lacking here now. Butsit down on the bench here and rest a while, till I bring you a piece ofbread, which, thanks be to God, we can still offer to those in greaterneed than ourselves."
So saying, she pointed to the bench, and retired into the house. Thewoman set down her basket, and dropping on the seat, covered her facewith her hands, and uttered a low but passionate prayer of thankfulness.In this attitude Jane Gray found her when she again stepped out ofdoors. She laid her hand on the bent shoulders, and said kindly, "Youseem quite overcome. Have you travelled many miles this day?"
Slowly the stranger's head was raised, and a pair of eyes fixedthemselves on the kind, womanly face with a glance which stirred hervery soul; and, without knowing why, she began to tremble from head tofoot.
"Sister Jane, do you not know me?" said the voice of one she had mournedas dead. "Then indeed my disguise is as complete as Ailie Kilgourassured me. I am your brother David!"
Jane Gray uttered a low cry, which brought Susan hurrying out to thedoor. The moment, however, that her eyes rested keenly and sharply onthe stranger's face, they penetrated the disguise, and she exclaimed--
"David Gray, as I am a living woman!"
"Even so; thus far the Almighty has brought me through many perils to mynative parish," said the minister of Broomhill, fervently.
Jane, having now recovered her first shock of surprise, embraced herbrother with great joy, the tears chasing each other down her cheeks inher emotion. So the name of Gray was not entirely swept off the face ofthe earth, as they had bitterly imagined, and there was hope for the oldhouse yet. They hastened to take him in, and set refreshment beforehim, after partaking of which he related to them all that which hadbefallen him and his brethren since they had last met.
Greatly rejoiced were they to learn of Adam Hepburn's escape, but theyshed many tears over their hardships in the prison yard at Edinburgh.As David in low and earnest tones delivered his brother's last messageto his widow, the tears flowed from her eyes, but in a gentle rain whichbrought healing with it. It was for these precious words her widowedheart had long and sorely hungered. It was decided that so long as itwas considered safe, he should abide under his disguise with them,though a few trusty brethren in hiding in the district would be dulyinformed of his safety.
So a little sunshine penetrated the dark cloud, and shed a measure ofbrightness on the hearth of the poor little cottage at Hartrigge.