Inchbracken: The Story of a Fama Clamosa

  CHAPTER XX.

  _IN A SICK ROOM_.

  When Roderick had written his letter he fell into a long and deepsleep, and it was daylight before he awoke. He was calmer in mind thanhe had been since he was taken ill, but it was the stillness ofexhaustion. His fevered thoughts had been labouring up and down anever-ending gamut of feeling, like a prisoner tramping hopelessly upa revolving wheel, ever the same mountain of misery and despair risingbefore him, toil to surmount it as he might. He had climbed andclimbed unceasingly--purposeless and hopeless, unable to stop, till atlength, worn out, he had, as it were, fallen back in completeprostration. His waking was like that of one who has fallen from aheight--stunned, the returning of far-ebbed consciousness was slow,and he would, if he could, have pushed it back again, and returned tooblivion.

  He closed his eyes and turned from the light, courting the retreatingfootsteps of beneficent sleep, but that gentle healer refused to bedetained, and he was awake. By-and-by he saw his letter carried awayto its address, and he set himself to wait patiently for the return ofhis messenger, some time in the afternoon.

  The rheumatic symptoms which had added greatly to his unrest, the daybefore, were abated, and his medical adviser expressed strong hope ofbeing able to remove them altogether; but the distress in his chesthad increased, his breathing was laboured and painful, threatening todevelop into a serious attack.

  The surgeon looked round the room, it was not a promising sick-roomfor an affection of the lungs. The walls, where they could be seenbehind the book shelves, were stained with moisture; there was thecold earthen floor beneath the carpet, and a pervading flavour ofmouldy dampness through the room, which seemed to grow only moreperceptible when more fuel was piled on the hearth. When the weatherwas dry the windows could be opened, and with the help of a brightfire, a moderately sweet atmosphere could be obtained after a time;but whenever rain without necessitated the closing of the windows, thestuffy savour of mouldiness again took possession of the place.

  Roderick lay and waited. He tried to read, but his eyes soon grewweary, and his thoughts would not fix themselves on the page, thoughhe tried one book after another. It pained his chest to converse, andhe could only possess his soul in patience, and wait Joseph's return.

  But Joseph came not. Noon passed, the shadows crept round andlengthened, but still no sign. It might be that Sophia required timeto consider his letter. In that there was at least this much of hope,that if she had become engaged to the Englishman there would have beenno occasion for her to delay in saying so. He grew restless as theafternoon advanced, and by evening was so flushed and increasinglyfeverish that they gave him a composing draught, and so got him tosleep.

  In the morning he was dull and stupid for some hours, but graduallythe fumes of the night's potion dissipated. His first enquiry was whatletters or messages had come. There had been none. It seemed strangethat no member or office-bearer of his hitherto attached flock shouldhave come near him. Some of the more remote and scattered would notknow, but it was strange the villagers should hold aloof. Could theyhave imagined that his illness might be infectious? and yet they werenot wont thus to avoid contagion. The very elders, part of whose dutyit was to visit the sick, had kept away; and although they might havebeen expected to take some interest in seeing the pulpit filled, theyyet had allowed Saturday to pass without coming near him. Even Mr.Sangster, the presiding elder had not come, although the illness hadbeen brought on in attending upon his wife, and he must have known allabout it. He would know also of the letter to Sophia. Could it be onaccount of that that he did not come? Yet why? If he had other viewsfor the settlement of his daughter, why did he not say so? The silencewas getting unbearable.

  Sunday proved to be rainy, greatly to Mrs. Sangster's relief. Sheavailed herself of the excuse to remain at home, her son and daughterwere both laid up with severe colds, and Mr. Wallowby was not inclinedto get himself wet. Mr. Sangster was therefore the sole occupant ofthe phaeton, and he did not reach the village till the church hour hadarrived, and he had to hasten straight to the tent. There, with theassociates Roderick had named, he did his best to extemporize someresemblance to a church service to the few shepherds (proof to rainand tempest) and old women crouching under umbrellas, who alone,defying the elements, had assembled as usual for their weekly meal ofdoctrine.

  The diet of public worship was got over as speedily as possible, andat the conclusion a few parishioners knocked in passing to enquireafter the minister's health. They were so few, however, as to excitethe surprise of Mary, as well as her brother, and there had been noelder or deacon among them.

  In the end Mr. Sangster did appear, he was admitted to the sick-room,and manifested the most cordial sympathy in Roderick's illness. Heexplained that the previous day being a market in a neighbouring town,he had gone thither, and had only got home a few minutes beforeRoderick's message, requesting him to assist at public worship, hadbeen delivered.

  He returned the heartiest thanks for Roderick's care of his wife, andwas in every way as friendly as possible, but he made no allusion tothe letter to Sophia or to the proposal which it contained, which isnot remarkable seeing he had not heard of it.

  Roderick lay and listened. The free and friendly tone did not look asif his suit had been received unfavourably, and yet it was alluded toin no way whatever. He gathered courage at last to enquire for Sophia,and was answered that she was laid up with a severe cold, but themanner of the reply was the most simple and ordinary, and showed nosign of an idea that more could be meant by the enquirer than met theear.

  Roderick inferred that the old man was favourable to his suit, andthat the young lady was taking time to make up her mind. For themoment, therefore, his hopes rose, his mind grew easier, his body moreat rest, and he spent a calmer evening and night than the preceding.

  On Monday morning he was very hopeful. She had had a long Sundayundisturbed by the possibility of doing anything else, for it hadrained steadily, to reflect on his petition, and she must surelyreturn him an answer to-day.

  Neither message, letter, or visitor appeared, however. 'Ah well,' heconcluded at last, 'her father will no doubt bring it with him in theevening, when he comes to be present at the meeting of Session.'

  The evening came. Roderick's study had been transferred as far aspossible into a fitting meeting-place. The screen which closed off hissleeping corner from the room was removed, the writing table and booksmoved aside as well as might be, and a dozen chairs or more arrangedin front of his bed.

  The clock over the fireplace marked the quarter to seven, but no onecame. It seemed strange that all that day no one should have come tosee him. He had lived in the completest harmony with his people, andwhen in health had had some one always dropping in for a 'crack,' sothat it had often been difficult for him to secure the privacynecessary to prepare his sermons. The sudden change was altogetherinexplicable to him. Every one seemed to stand aloof, and he seemed tobe put under a taboo by the entire population of the glen.

  Mary went to the window. No one appeared to be coming, she then wentto the door, but the village street was deserted save by a few grimychildren tumbling in the gutter. Looking across the road, however,where a lane ran down to the waterside, she descried one or twofigures standing. They stood well up to the wall of a house and werenearly hidden from where she stood. Indeed she would have supposedthey were actually hiding themselves there and watching, but that shecould imagine no possible reason for such a proceeding.

  While she stood looking, Peter Malloch came out of his door and walkedtowards her. Here at any rate was one man coming to the meeting. Itwas getting late, but then the village time would get astraysometimes. It depended on the watch of the stage coach guard, a notvery accurate timekeeper, as its hands would sometimes be moved twentyminutes forward or half an hour back that the coach might arrive atits different stages in time, whereby its internal economy wouldbecome deranged, and it would be sent for a fortnight to
recruit atthe watchmaker's.

  Farther down the street she now descried Ebenezer Prittie. No doubt itwas the clocks which were to blame. But no! When Peter Malloch reachedthe corner of the lane, he stopped short for an instant, and thenhastily turned down it and disappeared. Ebenezer marched steadilyalong till he came to the same point, but then he also stopped andstraightway vanished, like the other. What could it mean? Roderick wasrestless and very ill. It would require all his strength to getthrough the proceedings in the quietest way possible, and she couldnot think of fretting him, neither could she say anything to Eppienow.

  That good soul had been rather tiresome as it was, for the past fewdays. She was always kind and attentive, though a trifle more motherlythan Mary considered the circumstances to warrant, for she objected tothe old woman's view of her as a helpless young thing who needed to beclucked over, and protected with beak and feather, like some unfledgednurseling of the poultry yard. Of late Eppie's commiserating sympathyand sad devotion had become nearly overpowering, as Mary could divineno possible ground for anything so pathetic; things had appeared to begoing much as usual, the only unwonted circumstance having been herown return home a day or two before in the Inchbracken dog-cart,driven by Kenneth. Eppie must have got it into her head that she wasfalling under the influence of those black persecutors, the Drysdales,and that her soul was in danger; and that was too provokingly absurdaltogether and not to be tolerated.

  Mary flushed slightly to think of it, though there came also a lightinto her eye, as though in some aspects the idea was not so grievousafter all. But it must be put down, whether or no, and she had beenendeavouring to assume a deportment of severe and dignified distance,which would put the old body back in her proper place. Poor child! Herattempts at offended reserve were like the snaps of a toothless puppy,they had small resemblance to biting, and were far more likely totickle the offending hand than to hurt it.

  The next person to appear along the village street was Mr. Sangster.He appeared to think he was late, and strode quickly along. He reachedthe end of the lane. Would _he_ also turn down? No; Mary saw him wavehis hand in salutation, which showed that the others were stillconcealed there, but he stepped briskly across, and, with a cordialgreeting to herself in passing, entered her brother's room.

  He had scarcely done so, when, round the corner of the lane, therecame the whole Kirk-Session and Deacons' Court,--some ten or a dozenpersons in all,--like a crowd of urchins late for school. They hurriedforward in a sort of knot, each unwilling to go first, as though therewere an irate pedagogue to confront, yet no one wished to be last, asif he expected the dominie's cane to descend on his shoulders. Theywere all oppressed by the dreadful rumours in circulation, as to theminister's iniquity, and all wished to wreak vengeance on the defilerof their church. But how to set about it? Something vigorous andmemorable must be done; but what was it to be?

  A posse of the lieges called out to assist in capturing some notoriousoffender, half-a-dozen dogs holding a wild cat at bay--their fingerstingle to collar, their fangs glance fiercely ready to throttle; theystand all eager, all fierce, all cruel,--but who shall be the first tolay hold? and what may not befall that impetuous individual? Knockingdown, braining, scratching of eyes out; even in the case of thesezealous Free-churchmen, flooring in some metaphorical but very actualthough imagined sense. No man was prepared to tackle the offender, yetall were so sure of his wrong-doing, that each felt as if he werebound to do it, if he should encounter him alone or first. But nowAuchlippie had gone in, he, the ruling elder, their official head, wasthe proper person to do the undevised deed, or, if he did not, to bearthe 'wite' of leaving it undone.

  Roderick brightened up on the entrance of Mr. Sangster, and lookedenquiringly in his face, but he did not venture to ask the questionthat was so near his lips. Mr. Sangster was cordial even beyond hiswont, and answered his enquiries about the different members of hisfamily at full length; but he did not say what Roderick was soimpatient to hear; he could not, for his wife had told him nothingabout it.

  The entrance of the elders and deacons made further personal converseimpossible. They walked up to the bed, took the sick man's hand oneafter another, but could scarcely command their lips to frame theordinary inquiries after his health. Singularly to them, the ministerreceived them with perfect composure, and all his wonted friendliness,while their eyes fell and wandered while the words died away upontheir lips. 'Who was the sinner?' Ebenezer Prittie very nearlyinquired aloud. Here were they, twelve just men and righteous, endowedin their own sight and that of their neighbours with all the virtuesand christian graces in plenteous abundance, and yet this oneimpenitent sinner, laid out before them, snared in the full bloom andluxuriance of his iniquity, was able to outface them all, while they,his judges and accusers could scarce look him straight in the face,and had not a word to say.

  The proceedings began in the usual manner. Roderick however, found hecould scarce even whisper the opening prayer, and he thereforerequested Mr. Sangster to act in his stead. They had been calledtogether to make the concluding arrangements as to their new church.Widow Forester had come to terms about the ground, and they weretherefore to set to work with all the expedition in their power, toraise the walls and secure a roof to shelter them, before the arrivalof the winter storms. The day before had given them warning if thatwere needed, that the fine summer weather was drawing to a close, andthat in a very few weeks the season of cold and storm would be uponthem.

  It was decided to commence work without any delay whatever, and thaton the Thursday they should hold a religious service to inaugurate thework. Roderick had already bespoken the assistance of Mr. Dowlas, whohad agreed to come over from his own parish whatever day he might besummoned. All therefore that had to be done was to notify him thatThursday was to be the day, and that owing to Roderick's illness hewould have to assume the whole duty himself, instead of merely takingpart, unless on so short notice he could induce his neighbour Mr.Geddie to accompany him.

  No one present seemed disposed to speak unnecessarily, a somewhatunusual circumstance, for the deacons especially, being new to office,were prone to eloquence on ordinary occasions. Roderick accepted thistaciturnity as a mark of consideration for his weakness and feltgrateful. Indeed no more judicious mode of showing consideration couldhave been devised, for he felt himself getting worse under the stirand excitement very quickly. The meeting broke up as speedily aspossible, and he was left alone, for Mr. Sangster had been carriedaway by the rest. He had been counting on another talk with him andperhaps of yet hearing from him the thing he most desired, but his ownvoice had entirely gone, so it was but natural his friend should notthink of remaining with him when he could not speak.

  He lay back on his pillow and solaced himself by thinking all mannerof good of the men who had just left. The poor, the lower classes, whoare thought so gross and rude in their perceptions! What people couldhave shown a more delicate intuition of what would be grateful to himin his weakness, than those rough-spoken, hard-handed men? He had beenvexing himself with thoughts of their indifference and neglect, duringhis illness, but see how considerate and forbearing they had been thisevening, notwithstanding the well known crotchets of this one andthat, which would certainly have been brought out on any otheroccasion.

  It was a beautiful thought, though not, in the circumstances a veryaccurate one, and helped him much in dropping peacefully to sleep notlong after.