*CHAPTER XIII.*
*THE NEW MAID.*
"What are you doing in the barn at this hour of the day, Martha Miller?Putting off your time loitering about, and all the milk pans standing inthe dairy wanting to be scalded. Get about your work without more ado!"
It was Jane Gray who spoke, and her voice and manner were both unusuallysharp. Ordinarily, even when reproving, she spoke in a tone of habitualgentleness, holding it unbecoming for a gentlewoman to exhibit anyviolence of temper. It was not that she was particularly annoyed at thewoman putting off her time, for indeed there was nothing pushing in thehouse of Rowallan now, but this was the second time she had caught herin the barn, when she had no call to be there, and her suspicions wereroused lest she should be trying to discover, or had already discovered,the secret of the chaff hole.
Martha Miller was the new maid, and in appearance a comely,pleasant-looking person, about whom there was nothing suggestive oftreachery or double-dealing. She looked straight into the face of hermistress, and dropped an apologetic curtsey.
"I beg pardon, Miss Gray; I was seeking a bite for the hens. I cannaget peace about the doors for them," she answered, glibly, and at thesame time pointing to the feathered flock, gathered expectantly roundthe barn door.
"That is just nonsense, Martha Miller. If you run for a bite to themevery time they gather at your heels, you'll have your work," retortedMiss Gray, still sharply. "And, you know, I feed them myself everymorning; and that they need, and get no more till bedtime."
"I didna' ken, bein' a hoose-servant, ma'am," answered Martha, withapparent humility. "I'll no' dae it again."
Afraid lest, in her turn, she should arouse the suspicions of the maid,Jane Gray did not then enter the barn, but returned to her householdduties. In the afternoon, however, when she went for the customary feedof com for the poultry, she hastily looked into the chaff-hole to see ifthere were any signs of it having been disturbed. But no; the chaff wasscattered over the floor, there was no mark of either hand or foot, andthe trap-door had evidently not been disturbed.
Considerably relieved, and somewhat blaming herself for her suspicionsof the maid, Jane Gray went back to the house; and yet a vague,inexplicable distrust of Martha Miller continued to oppress her soul Sheknew her perfectly well. She was the daughter of one of the foresterson the estate of Inverburn, and, before the persecutions, had regularlyattended the church with her parents. Jane had not attached any weightto the fact that she had served for two years in the family of thelaird, not imagining that Sir Thomas was so bigoted an Episcopalian asto seek to influence his dependents.
She was sitting by her lonely hearth pondering these things in her mind,when there came a low tap at the window. Hastily rising, she peeredout, and, with great joy, beheld the face of her brother-in-law, AdamHepburn.
"Is all safe? Can I come in?"
"All is safe. Inverburn has been quiet for days, and there is not asoldier in the district," she whispered back. "Better go round andenter boldly by the kitchen door, as a master should; it will betterimpress Martha Miller, the new maid, whom I would not should think wehad anything to hide."
Adam Hepburn nodded, walked round about to the barn-yard, where he wasjoyfully greeted by his faithful collie, and, opening the kitchen door,stalked in. Martha Miller was knitting a stocking by the kitchenhearth, and looked round in no little amazement at sight of the masterof Rowallan, whom she knew very well by sight.
"Well, Martha, so you have come to serve at Rowallan," he said,pleasantly. "I heard of it in my absence. I hope we will get on asmaster and servant. Is your father well?"
"Yes, sir, thank ye," answered Martha, considerably confused by AdamHepburn's easy manner, and his evident familiarity with all that hadtranspired during his absence.
"Get on the pot and make me a basin of milk porridge, Martha. I havehad a long journey, and am very hungry," he said, quietly, and thenjoined his sister-in-law in the adjoining room, the door of which hecarefully closed.
As Jane Gray was already fully acquainted with the details of RullionGreen, it was not necessary for Adam Hepburn to say anything concerningit, but he had to tell her the story of his own journey home, which hadbeen marked by many perilous vicissitudes and marvellous escapes out ofthe hands of the enemy. Matthew Riddell, the yeoman, with whom he hadtravelled, had been laid hands on near Biggar, his own incautiousnessand haste to get home having induced him to continue his journey by day,instead of hiding till the friendly darkness fell.
"Is Hartrigge home yet?" Adam asked, suddenly breaking in upon his ownnarrative.
"No; we were in hopes that you would come together. Susan, poor soul,is in a very anxious frame of mind," answered Jane.
Adam Hepburn looked grave indeed.
"Then I fear he has either been captured or succumbed to his wound. Inno other way can I account for his protracted absence. It may be,however, that he is sheltering, for his health's sake, in some friendlyhousehold. We will hope so. But tell me, Jane, have you beensojourning in this lonely house alone since my departure?"
"No; Gavin is with me at night. He went home to-day to see his mother,and, knowing I have no fear, may possibly remain till morning. Adam, doyou think it will be safe for you to remain quite publicly at your ownhouse? David seemed to think you would be marked."
"Marked or not, I shall not go into hiding, Jane," he said, quietly. "Ihave but to slay a few more of these miscreants, and then what is lifeworth to me?"
"Hush! Adam; the Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away. Save of Hiswill, Agnes could not have died," she said, gently. "The thought thatshe is safe in our Father's house should be a great comfort to you, asit is to me, for, amid the terrors and anxieties of these days, shesuffered a perpetual martyrdom."
Adam Hepburn rose and restlessly paced to and fro the room, his facebetraying the many conflicting emotions which surged in his soul. Hiscruel and ruthless bereavement had shaken his faith to the veryfoundations, and he could well-nigh have exclaimed with the fool, "Thereis no God." "Other men have fathers, and mothers, and children, Jane,"he said, in quick rebellious tones. "I had only her, and the Almightyknew how dear, how necessary she was to my existence. Wherein had I sogrievously sinned that I required such a terrible punishment? Willinglywould I have given up houses and lands, cattle and oxen, all, _all_ Ihave in the world, if only _she_ had been spared."
"Dear Adam, we may not question the ways of the Lord," said Jane Gray ina low voice. "I think sometimes it is the things we most set our heartsupon in this evil world that are not good for us to have. There is sucha thing as making an idol of a human being, my brother, and you know thecommand is, 'Thou shalt have no other gods before Me.'"
Adam Hepburn remained silent, but was not convinced.
Jane Gray looked sorrowfully into his face, deploring the change thisblow had wrought, not only upon the outward man, but upon the innerspirit, sweeping away all the sunny-heartedness, the blithe and kindlycharity which had ever characterised him, making him so lovable in everyway. She could but pray that God, to whom all things are possible,would temper the wind, and show to the stricken and rebellious heart thesweet bow of promise behind the bitter cloud.
"And how is the curate performing his pastoral duties now?" enquiredAdam presently, in a somewhat mocking tone. "Has his eloquence,combined with the more rugged persuasions of the dragoons, induced manymore to attend upon his ministrations?"
"Watty McBean was here the other night, and he told me there was agoodly attendance in the kirk last Sabbath Day, chiefly of those timidand not very steadfast folks, whom fear has moved against their wills,"Jane made answer. "I wonder now that Watty did not join with the army;he is a very staunch upholder of the Covenant."
"Ay, but he never was a fechter [fighter], as he says," replied Adam,with a slight smile. "Watty is a sly dog. He'll keep himself out ofmischief, yet follow the dictates of his own conscience."
 
; At that moment Martha Miller knocked at the door, and entered bearing asmall server, on which stood her master's evening meal, a steaming basinof milk porridge, and a bowl of new milk beside it.
At her entrance Adam Hepburn looked keenly into the woman's face, andwhen she was gone, he turned to his sister-in-law, and said briefly, "Imistrust the countenance of that woman, Jane. Under what circumstanceswas she dismissed from the services of the laird?"
"I did not pursue the subject with her, Adam. She said she could notagree with her neighbours in the kitchen, and that her ladyship hadblamed her for the disturbances there," replied Jane Gray. "Knowing herto be a capable worker, I engaged her gladly; for though she might be ofa quarrelsome temper, she could not well fall out with herself, and I amnot one to bandy words with a serving woman."
"Keep an eye on her, Jane, and be careful of your words in her hearing.I misdoubt me very much if she be not a spy sent hither by Sir ThomasHamilton, who in the zeal of his loyalty to the king will not be slow toforget his honour as a gentleman," said Adam slowly. "I lost faith inthe laird from that day he threatened me with danger to your father, ifI did not turn out to McLean's preaching."
Jane Gray sighed. If foes were to be found in the very household, amongthose who broke and ate bread at the table, on whom could trust bestayed? Her brother-in-law's words were simply a re-echo of her owndoubts and fears, which, however, she kept as yet to herself.
After some further conversation they separated for the night, but AdamHepburn did not close an eye, for, under his own roof-tree, his heartwas torn anew by the violence of his sorrow, and ached with intolerableyearning for the "touch of a vanished hand, and the sound of a voicethat was still!"
On the morrow he went about his duties as usual, superintending the workon the farm, it having been almost at a standstill for many weeks. Itwas more to keep himself in occupation than out of any interest in thething, for even the ordinary business of getting and spending had ceasedto occupy the minds of men.
That afternoon, when Jane Gray went out as usual to feed her poultry,she had occasion to step round to the corn-yard in search of some youngchickens which had deserted their usual roost, and which she fearedmight become the prey of the foxes that frequently paid a visit toRowallan, and which that very spring had made off with some of thelambs. Her soft shoes made no noise on the turf, therefore she did notalarm two people sheltering behind a stack of straw, and busilyengrossed in conversation. She came upon them quite suddenly, and toher astonishment, who should it be but Martha Miller, the maid, and thecurate of Inverburn! Both looked considerably confused, and Marthathrew her apron over her head, and turned to go.
"I shall have a word to say to you for this wasting of my time, Martha,"her mistress said, pointing towards the house; then turning to thecurate, she added, with quiet, yet courteous dignity, "Sir, is itconsistent with the gospel you are supposed to preach, to wile aservant-maid away from her household duties almost in the middle of theday, to confer with you in secret like this?"
The curate's sallow face flushed under the scathing rebuke which fell soquietly from those calm, proud lips.
"When I am not permitted to visit members of my flock at their masters'houses, I must perforce see them outside," he answered, with rudeboldness, and yet his eyes instinctively sought the ground.
"Sir, I am not aware that the master of Rowallan has ever forbidden youhis house," said Jane Gray, still calmly. "The members of the flocksurely are ashamed of their shepherd, for Martha Miller has never ceasedto disclaim all connection with your ministrations, and I am made awareto-day, for the first time, that she is on speaking terms with you."
"Madam, know you to whom you speak so disrespectfully?" quoth Mr. McLeanin wrathful tones. "Know you that it is chiefly owing to my longforbearance with you and yours that the name and the house of Gray havenot been totally extinguished?"
A slight smile curved for a moment Jane Gray's resolute lips, and themild scorn it implied made the spirit of the curate chafe within him.
"Truly grateful are we for your forbearance towards us, Mr. McLean," sheanswered courteously. "I bid you good afternoon."
So saying, Jane Gray turned about and returned to the house. Uponsecond thoughts, she took no further notice of the occurrence to MarthaMiller, deeming it more prudent to let her imagine it of no importancein the eyes of her mistress. Nevertheless, she redoubled herwatchfulness, and took care that there was nothing in her actions toarouse the maid's suspicions. Hitherto, when conveying provisions tothe dear ones in hiding, Jane Gray had simply been content to lock thebarn door from the inside, and shut herself into the chaff-hole, so thatnone could possibly be witness to her descent into the cave. But now,after conference with her brother-in-law, they agreed that the safestplan would be for him to rise in the middle of the night and take downthe food himself.
These precautions, however, were taken too late; for already the cunningeyes of Martha Miller had penetrated the secret of the chaff-hole.