*CHAPTER IX.*
*PREPARING FOR EMERGENCIES.*
When the laird rode away, Adam Hepburn turned and walked slowly back toRowallan. He was somewhat disturbed by what he had heard, not on hisown account, but on that of the venerable father of his beloved Agnes.When he entered the room where the minister sat with his daughter Jane,Mrs. Hepburn being busy with her household work, both saw that he wastroubled about something.
"Have you heard aught about the preaching yesterday, Adam, that you lookso grave?" queried the minister.
"Yes; I met the laird down the road, and he seems sore displeased overthe thin attendance at Mr. McLean's ministrations yesterday," repliedAdam, a little quickly. "He threatened me, too, that unless I attendedthe services he would get you into trouble, Mr. Gray."
"I said to you, Adam, my son, when you so nobly offered me the shelterof your roof-tree, that it might get you and yours into trouble,harbouring an ejected and rebellious minister," said the old man sadly."Better let me go forth ere that trouble comes upon your house."
"Go forth! and whither? At your age, and in the dead of winter, towander in the open air as some are compelled to do would mean certaindeath," said Adam Hepburn. "No, no; though I am not such a red-hotchurchman as Hartrigge, still, whoever seeks to molest you, be he king'sor bishop's official, must first deal with me."
Tears started in Jane Gray's eyes as she looked with pride and gratitudeat the erect figure and manly face of her brother-in-law. At thatminute Agnes, hearing such serious voices, came in from the kitchen,asking what was the matter. Adam Hepburn turned his blue eyes fondly onhis wife's sweet pale face, and smiled to reassure her.
"We are like to get into trouble, wife, by our dourness to attend thecurate's preaching, that is all," he answered lightly.
A slightly troubled look stole into Agnes Hepburn's gentle eyes.
"I know not why, but I have of late had many dark forebodings, Adam,"she said. "These are sad, sad days in which we live, and especiallytrying for timorous women-folk like me."
"It is your poor health, dear one, that makes you fanciful. No harm cancome upon Rowallan so long as my stout right arm retains its cunning,"Adam answered, lightly still; but Agnes, shaking her head, stole back toher duties with a heavy heart.
"I am concerned about Agnes, Jane," said Adam Hepburn, turning histroubled eyes on his sister-in-law's face. "She is not well, and in hersleep is restless and troubled, as if haunted by some strange dread; andshe is so thin and worn. Looking on her face, at times I am afraid."
"When the spring time is past she will gather strength, please God,"said Jane, cheerfully. "Agnes never was strong in the spring time."
"No; and these exciting and troublous times are too severe a strain uponher sensitive heart," said the minister. "As Agnes herself says, theyare not for timorous women-folk to live in."
For some weeks they heard no more of the laird or of his threats,although report had it that severe measures were about to be taken tocompel the people to respect the authority of the bishops and to attendupon the ministrations of their curates. Ere long these rumours becameterrible realities, and a troop of brutal and unprincipled dragoons,under Sir James Turner, was let loose upon the western and southernshires of Scotland, which they scoured in search of the ejectedministers, and of their faithful flocks, who travelled miles to hearthem in the mountain solitudes, worshipping with them in temples notmade with hands, but which were consecrated to the Lord by thefaithfulness and fearless piety of these Christian people. For a timethe parish of Inverburn, although very offensive in its treatment of thecurate, escaped the severity with which many other parishes, notablythose in the shires of Galloway and Dumfries, were visited. It was atlength, however, publicly announced from the pulpit that all who failedto attend Divine service on the following Sabbath day would beapprehended and punished either by fine or other penalty, and that allwho gave aid to the ejected ministers or who attended upon theirservices in the open air were liable to be dragged before the HighCommission Court, of which Sharp was the head, and there punishedaccording to the prelates' good pleasure.
Adam Hepburn heard unmoved that report, as also did his brother-in-lawat Hartrigge, where David Gray, the minister of Broomhill, was stillsheltered, almost, however, at the peril of his life. When the dragoonsat length came to Inverburn, he hid in the day-time in acunningly-concealed cave on the face of the hill upon which Hartriggestood, and the existence of which was known only to a very few. It wasin a spot so difficult of access, and was, besides, so well hidden bybrambles and nettles and other brushwood, that for a time at least thefugitive was perfectly safe.
When Sir James Turner and his troop arrived at Inverburn, he, with hissubordinate officers, was immediately offered shelter by the laird,while the men were drafted upon various households in the village,notably those who were known to be very zealous Presbyterians. WattyMcBean's house was taken possession of by four coarse, swearing, drunkensoldiers, who raised Watty's ire to the utmost pitch and nearlyfrightened Betty out of her wits, besides eating her out of house andhome.
At nightfall on the day of their arrival, Watty stole away through thefields to Rowallan to give timely warning to its inmates to get theminister removed out of the way before he should be taken prisoner. Hecrept up to the room window and gave a familiar tap on the lower pane,lest a knocking at the door might alarm the household. Adam Hepburnhimself came to the door, and, at a sign from Watty, stepped outside.
"I've jest come tae warn ye, Adam Hepburn, that Turner an' the sodgerscame this nicht," he whispered. "An' by what I hear the rascals, wha haetaen my hoose frae me, sayin' tae ane anither, it's oor minister an' theminister o' Broomhill they're after. Hae ye ony means o' getten MaisterGray outen the road?"
Adam Hepburn nodded.
"We knew the soldiers were on their way to Inverburn, and I'll warrantthey'll no lay hands on the minister, or they'll be sharper than I thinkthem. Come in, Watty, and speak to Mr. Gray. He's still with us in thehouse."
"Ye dinna mean to say so!" exclaimed Watty in consternation. "Certyye're no feared. If ye take my advice ye'll get him awa' intae safehidin' as sune as possible. I was sayin' tae Bettie I kent a bonniehowdie hole on the Douglas Water doon the Sanquhar road a bit, that itwad puzzle the sodgers tae find."
"Keep your secret for awhile, Watty. It may be useful some day," saidAdam Hepburn, and beckoning to Watty, he ushered him into the warmingle-neuk, where sat the minister of Inverburn in undisturbed serenity,with his daughters by his side.
"Good evening to you, Watty McBean, my faithful friend," said theminister, rising to shake hands with Watty. "What tidings have yebrought?"
"No very braw [nice] for leddie's ears. The sodgers have come uponInverburn at last, an' gin they bide lang ther'll be neither bite norsup, nor an article o' gear in the parish," answered Watty dolefully."The four villains quartered on us have already pocketed my watch an' mymither's spunes, no' tae speak o' Betty's brooch she got frae yerlamented wife."
Agnes Hepburn's pale cheek grew, if possible, a shade whiter, andinstinctively her husband moved to the back of her chair, and laid hisfirm hand on her trembling shoulder as if to re-assure her.
"Adam, if this be so, my place is no longer here!" said the ministerrising. "My son, I have already stayed too long, not only at the perilof my own life, but it is imperilling yours likewise. It will be betterfor me to keep my hiding-place now, both night and day."
"You will lie down first, father, and snatch a few hours rest," said thesweet voice of Adam Hepburn's wife. "At the cock-crowing Adam willawake you, and you can hide until the nightfall."
"Oh, ye'r safe eneuch till the daw'in', sir," Watty assured him. "Thelaird's wine, an' soft beds, an' routh [abundance] o' breakfast 'll keepSir Jeems at the big hoose, I'se warrant, till the sun be up."
"Certainly you will do as Agnes says, Mr. Gray?" said Adam, in hisdecided way. "Now, Watty, if you'll say go
od-night, and come with me,I'll show you a 'howdie hole' which would match yours on the DouglasWater."
"Guid nicht, then, Maister Gray, an' may the Lord blind the e'en o' thesodgers, and keep you oot o' their clutches," said Watty with fervour."Mistress Hepburn an' Miss Jean, guid nicht wi' ye baith; an' should yeneed a strong arm and a willint heart at any time, to defend ye, mindthat Watty McBean's ay ready!"
"Good night, my faithful Watty; and may the Lord give you patience tobear the infliction of the soldiery on your abode. Provoke them not toanger, Watty, I entreat, for I am told that they are very swift to shedblood," said the minister, earnestly.
"I'll thole [bear] as long as I can, I never was a fechter," said thegood soul, with a comical smile, and pulling his forelock in token ofrespect, he followed Adam Hepburn out of doors.
The moon had now risen, and its clear radiance struggled through therifts in the cloudy sky, and shone weirdly and fitfully on the wintrylandscape, making strange fantastic shadows too on the walls of theouthouses grouped about the farmhouse. Adam Hepburn stepped across thecourtyard, and opened the barn door. He then motioned to Watty toenter, and after carefully closing the door, lighted the lantern he hadbrought with him from the house. The barn at Rowallan was a large andcommodious place, with a steep ladder-like stair ascending to thegranary above. In one corner a small door gave admittance to an innerapartment, something resembling a closet in a house, and into which thechaff was swept after it was separated from the wheat by the flail. Atthe present time it was, however, almost empty, there being only aslight sprinkling on the wooden floor. Into this place Adam Hepburnthrew the light of his lantern, and then looked enquiringly at Watty.
"What do you see there, Watty, anything by ordinar?" he asked.
"Naething but a common chaff-hole," answered Watty, "and no' a very safehidin'-place, I wad think. The Douglas Water hole beats it yet."
"Come in, though, Watty, and I'll show you something," said Adam, with asmile, and Watty stepped into the place, in which he could scarcelystand upright. Adam then set down his lantern, and with his hands sweptaside the chaff, but still Watty saw nothing save a moth-eaten anddiscoloured wooden floor. But when Adam inserted into some of the seamsthe strong blade of his gully knife, and Watty saw a distinct movementin the flooring, he began to have an inkling of what was coming. Aftersome little exertion, Adam Hepburn raised a small trap-door, sufficientto admit the body of a man, and Watty peering into the chasm, withexcited interest, saw a ladder which appeared to lead into the bowels ofthe earth.
"Now creep down after me, Watty, and shut the door after you, and I'llshow you something worth seeing," said Adam, and Watty made haste toobey. The ladder was of considerable length, but at last Watty felt hisfeet on the firm earth, and looking about, saw by the light that he wasin a subterranean passage, narrow certainly, but of sufficient height toaccommodate even Adam Hepburn's tall figure. Still following his guide,Watty walked a little way along the passage, and then found himself in akind of cave, a wide open space, sufficient to hold about a dozenpeople. There was a rude couch composed of stones, built in one corner,upon which now had been piled a substantial tick filled with chaff,above which was spread plenty of blankets and thick coverings, whichwould make a very comfortable resting place, even in winter. A piece ofrough matting covered the floor in front of the bed, and there were somebenches which formed a table, or could be used for seats. The floor ofthe place was perfectly dry, and the atmosphere felt warm and free fromdampness. Watty gazed round him in unmitigated astonishment andadmiration, and at lasted gasped out--
"This _is_ a howdie hole, an' nae mistak'! Whaur did it come frae, an'wha made it?"
"It has always been here. I believe my great-grandfather, who waskilled at Flodden, had something to do with it," replied Adam Hepburn."At any rate, not a living soul knows of its existence but our ownfamily and you, Watty. But you don't know half its advantages yet.See, the underground passage continues right through here," he added,shedding the light of his lantern into another dark recess; "and what doyou think? it runs right through the fields of Rowallan, and under thebed of the Douglas Water, and comes out in the middle of all thebrushwood and tangle on the face of the Corbie's Cliff. Ye didna kenthere was a hole there, did ye, Watty?"
"No; although I hae speeled [climbed] the Corbie mony a time for nestswhen I was a laddie," said Watty, solemnly. "It seems as if the Lordhad made the place Hissel'."
"Mr. Gray can be made very comfortable here, Watty," continued AdamHepburn; "and, by the simple pulling of a string I have fastened up inthe chaff-hole, I can make a noise which will warn him to escape by theCorbie should the soldiers discover the trap. But I don't think therecan be any fear of that."
"No' likely, for I couldna see onything but the flure," said Watty, inmuch glee; "an' I'm no' blind. Eh, weel, may be mair than the minister'll be glad o' this grand shelter."
"It is likely the minister of Broomhill will come here under cover ofthe night some of these days. I would think he was not very safe muchlonger at Hartrigge," said Adam Hepburn. "Well, Watty, I think we'dbetter get upstairs again, and you can tell Betty that we are ready forthe soldiers whenever they like to come."
"'Deed, Maister Hepburn, I'll no' tell her naething. Weemin folk are no'to be trusted. No' that they mean tae dae mischief; it's jist theirtongues, puir craters, fashed [troubled] wi' a weakness, an' they cannahelp themselves," said Watty, so seriously that his companion could notrefrain from laughing.
After some little delay, they again mounted the ladder, and, pushing upthe trap-door, emerged into the chaff-hole, and thence out into the openair, where, after a few more words concerning the shelter of theministers, they parted for the night.