CHAPTER XXV.
_SOPHIA'S ANSWER_.
Thursday morning was the opening of a great day in Glen Effick. Thefoundation stone of the new Church was to be laid, and from the mostdistant corners of Kilrundle parish the people came streaming inacross the braes, more numerously even than for the Sunday meeting.The Session had at last come to an agreement with Widow Forester forhalf of her kaleyard on which to build their Church. The foundationwas already dug, and every owner of a horse and cart had agreed tocontribute so many days' labour towards delivering the materials onthe ground. And now the work was to be inaugurated with preaching andprayer, that it might be brought to a speedy and prosperous issue. Thegood people having neither oil nor wine to bestow in cementing thestones, had resolved to pour forth a copious oblation of words devoutand stirring, and to celebrate their triumph over Laird and Law intrue democratic fashion, by a general gathering and unstintedspeechification.
The hot stillness of September days had passed away, and the freshcool brightness of October had succeeded. In low-lying hollows thefirst hoar-frost of the season was melting into dew before theapproaching noon, and straggling flecks of cloud swam merrily overheadin the breezy sky. The crimson of the moors was withering somewhatinto rusty brown, but the birch along the watercourses had ripenedinto sprays of gold, while the distant hills stood out against the skyin violet and blue. The trooping worshippers displayed all theirSunday bravery of apparel, but the solemnity of their Sabbathdemeanour they had felt at liberty to leave behind. The children ranhither and thither shouting their loudest, while the seniors chattedcheerily as they went, carrying their dinners in heavy baskets betweenthem, and resolved to make the most of the day's 'ploy.'
Along the village street the people trickled in a continuous stream,and by and by Ebenezer Prittie and Peter Malloch put up the shutterson their respective shops. Donald Maclachlan shut up the smithy, andAngus Eldrecht, the wheel-wright, closed his yard, and stepped offwith their wives to the meeting place on the brae-side, where Mr.Dowlas and a reverend brother of the presbytery were already in thetent waiting to conduct the exercises.
Mrs. Sangster, with her daughter, was on the ground betimes,discussing with unwonted affability the terrible scandal to the eldersand more prominent people near her. She occupied, of course, thebeadle's special chairs, and as the time to commence the service drewnear, she beckoned to her Stephen Boague and his wife, and seated thembeside herself and daughter. It was a public recognition of theirexemplary character she considered, which would fully reward the womanfor her hospitality the day she was lost in the mist, and was quiteinexpensive besides. When Mary Brown presently appeared, the goodwoman would fain have yielded up to her her accustomed seat under thematronly wing of the congregation's only lady; but Mrs. Sangsterrequested that she would not move. 'I could not countenance Mr. Brownor his family,' she said, 'under the circumstances.' So the poor womanhad to remain; but she no longer felt promotion in her place ofhonour, and all her acquaintances looked askance, and wondered at her'upsettin' impidence.' Mrs. Sangster was too busy with her 'spy-glass'and psalm-book to see the approach of Mary, who coloured withresentment at what, since Eppie's explanation, she now perfectlyunderstood, and looked about for another seat. The Laird had beenwatching his wife's proceedings with cynical amusement, he now cameforward and removed his daughter to the elder's bench, setting thechair she had been occupying beside her, and seating Mary upon it,while he took his own stand beside them.
Mrs. Sangster's spy-glass dropped upon her book; amazement andindignation paralyzed her, which was fortunate, or she might haveexhibited a tantrum, even in that sacred assembly. She! thatcongregation's Deborah without a Barak, as a fawning preacher had oncedescribed her at family prayers, to be thus flouted before them all!And the wholesome discipline she had meant to exercise in support ofthe public morals to be turned round upon herself! and this, too, byher own husband! the man bound to protect, honour, and obey her! For_of course_ he was bound so to do, whatever Saint Paul, or any otherold bachelor who knew nothing about it, might say. Was she not themore advanced Christian? and in right of her higher standing in '_TheKingdom_' entitled to instruct, advise, and reprove those on a lowerlevel. Oh! how should she punish him and bring him to book? There wasthe difficulty. Scolding would not do. She had tried that before, andit did not succeed. He was apt to laugh in her face, and sometimeseven to scold back in return, in an altogether dreadful and appallingway--for an elder--if she persisted; and then nothing, not even herunfailing Christian meekness could secure her the last word, which washer due as a lady. She thought of putting him on low diet for awhile.--'And it would serve that monkey Sophia right, too, forsympathising with her father. See how contentedly she cottons up toMary Brown!' thought she. But she did not like bad dinners herself,and it would come out if she had a sweetbread quietly in her own room.Besides, she had attempted a penitential regimen of cold mutton oncebefore, and it had not ministered to his spiritual needs; on thecontrary, he had broken out in a way that was simply dreadful, and hadthreatened her with a housekeeper if she could not keep a bettertable. Her crosses were indeed many and grievous, and she might havegrown weak and hysterical in reviewing them, but that other cares andanxieties demanded her present attention. Surely there was somethingrubbing up against her in a familiar and unbecoming way. She turned,looked, and almost leaped into Mrs. Boague's lap. Stephen's largestcollie was titillating his spine by pushing it up and down against hernew plum-coloured silk gown.
'Haud steady, mem! The folk 'ull see ye, an' ye're nae licht wechtforby!' whispered Mrs. Boague. 'Ne'er mind the dugs, an' they winnafash wi' _you_. An' de'il a yelp or snap wull they gie, sae lang as yedinna staund on their tails.'
Touseler, finding his scratching-post withdrawn, stretched himself onthe ground to sleep out the sermon, and Mrs. Sangster resumed herchair. Her tranquility was of short duration. First would come a tugat her parasol, accompanied by a strangled yelp, as a puppy havingswallowed the tassel would struggle to escape, like a trout on afish-hook; and next it would be her shawl. A dirty little finger wouldbe found tracing the flowing lines of its elegant embroidery, or thecorner would be pulled down, that the critics squatting on the swardmight more conveniently scrutinize the elaborate design.
When Sophia's chair was removed it had left an open spot in the crowd,to Mrs. Sangster's left, and as nature abhors a vacuum, the unplacedmaterial of her party had flowed in to fill it. She looked down on aconfused knot of dog and child life, heads and tails, legs and armsswaying and kicking to and fro in silent happiness. Had a quadruped ora biped given tongue in the 'House of God,' there would have beenwhipping behind the first big boulder-stone on the home-going, andthey had all felt the weight of Stephen's hand at sometime, so werewary; but so long as silence was kept, and they remained beside theshepherd and his wife, they might kick, roll, and be happy as theypleased.
Poor Mrs. Sangster's attention was fully occupied in protecting herdress from the busy fingers of the little boys and girls, and inseeing that the dogs did not make a coverlet of her skirts; and shevowed never again to 'take notice' of people from the 'lower orders,'who so little appreciated the honour she did them, and made themselvesso utterly abominable with their ill-reared dogs and children. Shelost all the good of their sermons as she told the reverend oratorsthat evening at supper, and was far too concerned for what mightbefall her own draperies, to give much heed to the Rev. AEmeliusGeddie's description of the curtains of fine linen and badger skins,blue and scarlet, prepared for the Tabernacle in the wilderness, andhis tender appeal to the women of Glen Effick to go and do likewise.Mr. Dowlas described the building of Solomon's Temple, its joists ofcedar covered with plates of pure gold, the chapiters, thepomegranates, and the wreathen-work, the brazen pillars and thevessels of pure gold. He interspersed these with spiritualinterpretations and mystical images drawn from the Prophets, till thehearers were brought under a general vague impression of splendour andsolemnity
, they could not have explained wherefore; but they allagreed that it was a 'graund discoorse,' and 'very refreshing,' andthat they had entered on a high, noble and arduous work, in proposingto build themselves a little meeting house; and that, though proprietyforbade their saying so, the Divine Head of the Church was greatlybeholden to them, and that they might look, as their certain due, forlarge amounts of blessing, spiritual and temporal, to requite theirexertions in church-building, as well as that heroic penny-a-week tothe Sustentation Fund.
Like other fine things, the sermon came to an end at last, and afterpsalms and benediction, it was announced that they would proceed inprocession to the site of their future church, where reports of thedifferent committees would be received, and addresses given, afterwhich the foundation stone would be laid with prayer and praise.
The congregation then broke up, and in the confusion Sophia got theopportunity she had been desiring of a quiet word with Mary.Circumstances had befriended her wonderfully she thought, when herfather had brought her away from her mother, and placed her besideMary Brown. She had always been fond of Mary, but now she felt asisterly drawing towards her which she had not known before. Mary washer junior by about a year, but was quicker and earlier to mature, andthis had sometimes made Sophia feel a rawness in herself, and ageneral slowness and obtuseness by comparison, in a way approaching asnear to jealousy as her somewhat stolid and easy-going disposition wascapable of experiencing. But as Mary neither assumed nor probably wasaware of any advantage, this feeling in great measure slept; and now,when Sophia's development had advanced as with a bound, under thestirrings of awakening emotion, the latent grudge was altogetheroverborne. She sat up very close to her and pressed her softly. Marywas surprised. Demonstration of the faintest kind was something new inSophia, and altogether unexpected. Her heart was sore at theunkindness of the parishioners to her brother, and their haste toadopt unwarrantable and improbable suspicion against him; and thatMrs. Sangster; who had assumed to play the role of mother to her inher lonely position, should turn and publicly visit the imaginarymisdeeds of her brother on her head, had been very grievous. Sheassumed that Sophia meant to signify her disbelief in the idle rumoursafloat, and, accepting the proffered sympathy, she returned thefriendly pressure with grateful warmth. The two read from the samebible and psalm-book, and sat so close that the Laird was able to findroom on the bench beside his daughter, just as he was beginning tothink a two hours' stand rather a heavy penalty for interfering withhis wife's absurdity.
'Mary!' whispered Sophia, when the assemblage was breaking up, 'I wantyou to tell your brother that I received his letter. Whoever told himthat I am engaged is altogether mistaken. Nobody ever asked me to--beengaged, and there is no one who could have any right to do so. Iwould have answered his letter, but mamma forbade me; she even says Imust not come and see you, while some report or other, I don't knowwhat it is, is going about. So I have been waiting for an opportunityto speak to you. Mamma says papa does not believe the report, so--'here the words died away and the colour deepened on her cheeks--'butpapa does not know of his letter to me.' Mary leant forward to bestowa kiss, but Sophia started back under a sharp prod from the parasol ofher mother, who was eagerly reaching over the shoulders of theintervening crowd.
'Sophia Sangster! what are you lingering there for? Don't you seeeverybody is on the move? Come to your mother's side, your properplace, this moment.'
It was not a happy half-hour for Sophia that followed. The maternalplumage was sadly ruffled, and in the 'preening' that ensued toreadjust the feathers mental as well as physical (for the silk gownwas rumpled as much as the self-complacency was disturbed), not a fewstray pecks fell to her portion. That her husband should have carriedaway her own girl from her side was almost intolerable; only, till shecould devise a way to punish him which she had not yet discovered, shemust bear that; but the girl had acquiesced without sign of reluctanceor remonstrance, had consented to be separated from her own motherwith perfect equanimity, and in spite of all that had passed, hadseemed entirely comfortable beside Mary Brown, notwithstanding thematernal taboo. She had had little leisure for observation. Her gown,her shawl, the children, the sheep-dogs had made constant demands onher attention, and when she looked for succour to the shepherd and hiswife, they were drinking in the sumptuous splendours of Solomon'stemple, and had no thought for the turbulent little Bethel at theirfeet. Once however she had found time to glance across and wasdisgusted to see Sophia and Mary singing amicably from one book andevidently on the best of terms.
'You're a saft feckless tawpie, Sophia Sangster!' she enunciated withmuch emphasis, as she and her daughter were carried along in thestream of the procession. 'It seems to me sometimes that you have nomore sense than a sookin' turkey!' Mrs. Sangster rather prided herselfon her English, which she considered equal to that of any body on herside of London or Inverness. These were the two seats of perfectspeech she considered; but failing them Auchlippie could hold its ownagainst Edinburgh, St. Andrews, or anywhere else, and was decidedly abetter model than her son Peter since he had adopted a Lancashirebrogue. Nevertheless when she became 'excited' (_i.e_. angry), sheadmitted that she had to fall back on the pith and vigour of hernative Doric with its unlimited capacity for picturesque vituperation.
'It's not from me you take your fushionless gates! That comes o' thedonnart Sangster bluid in you, I'm thinking. But what possessed you totake up publicly like yon with Mary Brown, when you know I want you tosteer clear of her just now? When the Presbytery has taken the matterup, it will be proper enough to bestow patronage and show sympathy forthe poor girl; but meanwhile we have a testimony to bear, and it willnot do to countenance evil doers or their families.'
'Mamma, I don't know what you are talking about.'
'Of course not. It's no subject for a young girl to know anythingabout; but you must not think in your ignorance to set yourself abovethe advice and opinion of your mother, who knows all about it.'
Sophia said no more. To speak was but to stir the fire of her mother'swrath. She held her peace, and left the flame to burn itself out, orsmother in its own smoke and ashes. She simply did not attend, andwhen her mother, stopping for breath, turned to survey, as it were,the field of battle, or at least to view the result of her onslaughtas depicted in the girl's face, she was smiling to a bare-footedurchin who trotted by her side, Stephen Boague's youngest, who hadtaken a fancy to the gay apparel of Mrs. Sangster, and still kept itin view.
'Let that de'il's buckie alone, Sophia Sangster, and attend to me! Ithas been pulling the fringes of my shawl for the past two hours, andmade it smell of peat-reek and moss-water so that I shall never beable to put it on again.'
The meeting was held in the field adjoining the excavation made forthe church's foundation. Mr. Sangster was in the chair and supportedon either hand by a minister, and there were chairs in front for Mrs.Sangster, her daughter, and Miss Brown, to which the matron, somewhatmollified by this observance, was ushered, when she very quicklyappropriated the remaining seat for her shawl, so that there might beno vacant place for any one else. She might have spared herself thetrouble. Mary was not in the crowd, and if she had been, would nothave desired to sit beside her.
At the close of the religious exercises, Mary had hastened home to herbrother, from whom she had already been longer away than at anyprevious time since he was taken ill. She would not have attended themeeting at all, but for his desire that she should; and she was gladto return home at the earliest moment, for since she had learned itsproneness to think evil without cause, she loathed Glen Effick utterlyand all its affairs. Her brother had been drowsing, but he woke up ather entrance, and asked to hear what had been done.
'Just the usual thing. Mr. Geddes preached about the Tabernacle, andMr. Dowlas about Solomon's Temple.'
'Ah! I can imagine it; very pretty and flowery, no doubt. But I thinkwhen so many were collected they might have had something more usefuland more likely to do good to the poor people. "A dish of metaphor,"as my good
father used to say, "is light feeding for hungry souls."'
'They did not think so, I assure you; they seemed quite delighted;though I confess I rather wearied over the inventory of the goldenvessels, and I saw Sophia Sangster yawn once at any rate.'
'Was Sophia there?'
'Oh yes. And by the way she sent a most particular message to you; orat least she seemed particularly anxious that you should receive it.'
'Ah!' said Roderick, raising himself, 'tell me quick.'
'I declare, Roddie, you look quite excited! She asked me to tell youshe had received your letter--You rogue! What have you been writing toher? I remember now how restless you were one morning till you had gotJoseph sent off to Auchlippie! But I, simple soul, supposed it wasSession business with the Laird. To think I should be so obtuse with alittle comedy going on under my very nose! But, ah me! It has beenmore like tragedy of late, you have been so ill, and we have both beenso lonely.'
'But, to return to your comedy, or at least to Sophia, what more?'
'She said she had got your letter! Was not that enough? She did not_say_ it was a sonnet to her eyebrows--but I suspect, she blushed soprettily--yet, now I think of it, it was not a sonnet you sent, for Iwas to tell you that she is not engaged--that there is no one who hasa right to ask her to be engaged. You must have been jealous, Roddie!Who was it? And she said she would have written, but her motherforbade her.'
'Oh that tiresome Duchess! What ridiculous fancy has she got in herhead now, I wonder? I feel quite ashamed when I recall the blackthoughts I have been nourishing against that poor harmless cockney orwhatever he is, Mr. Wallowby; all along of some absurd scheme of hers,which rushed to her lips in her agitation that day on the hill. PoorDuchess! She must have a bee in her bonnet; but she is a sad worry.'
'She is far worse that that!--hard, evil-minded, worldly.'
'Hush, Mary! "Judge not," et cetera. But proceed!'
'Sophia told me that her mother says there is some rumour afloat whichmust be cleared up before she can have communication with us; and, infact, the tiresome old thing did her best, not only to cut me to-day,but to keep Soph away too; but the Laird, honest man, was too many forher.'
'You do not mean to say that that abominable Duchess was publicly rudeto _you?_ I could not stand that! Though she may do or say to me asshe likes (and she generally does;) for I do not suppose any sensibleman could seriously mind her.'
'Oh no! The Laird came to the rescue like a man and a gentleman, as healways does; and, in fact, if the Duchess had behaved herself, andSoph and I had been under her wing, I do not believe the pooroppressed child would have had courage or opportunity to send you yourmessage, sir, so do not be harbouring bad thoughts of the poorDuchess! Ah! ah! And by the way, there is more message yet! Sophiasays her father does not believe the rumours which her mother has beenso ready to accept; and--but she blushed and stammered and I could notmake sense of it, for you see I was not in your confidence, Mr.Prudence--but, if I were an old woman and understood about those sortof things, it sounded suspiciously like bidding you carry your tale to'Papa!' Ha! Have I found you out, old gentleman? I suppose I may gofor a governess now; I may be losing my place as house-keeper anyday!' And she laughed merrily while Roderick coloured and lookedconfused, but intensely happy.
When the Doctor came to visit his patient that afternoon, he wasastonished at the improvement in his condition, and quite confirmed inhis belief as to the wisdom of his own prescriptions, and generalcourse of treatment.