*CHAPTER XVIII.*
*AT HAUGHHEAD.*
In the grey twilight of a sweet spring evening, a figure, wearing thegarb of a minister, entered the policies surrounding Haughhead, andkeeping well within the shadow of the trees, stole across the park tothe mansion house. The face of the wanderer was not that of an old man,and yet his hair was as white as snow. He looked worn and delicate, andwalked slowly and with a somewhat lingering step, as if he had travelledfar, and was very weary.
The house of Haughhead was a building of considerable pretension, andwas beautifully situated on a richly wooded slope, directly facing thepicturesque village of Broomhill. The grounds were ample and well kept,and looked their best that spring evening, for the trees were burstinginto leaf, and the early spring flowers were blooming in the trimborders and among the smooth-grown turf. The wanderer looked about himwith a sad and tender interest, for his surroundings were peculiarlyfamiliar, and recalled to his mind many memories of the past. To thisplace, in the early days of his settlement in Broomhill, he had oftencome, lured by the sunny gleam in the blue eyes of Lilian Burnet.Through these very green and bosky glades he had wandered, with herlight hand clinging to his arm, in the happy, careless days of theircourtship; across that very threshold he had led his fair bride,accounting himself that day the happiest man in broad Scotland.Recalling these happy days, and contrasting them with the desolationwhich was his to-day, he could have fancied them but the vagaries of hisown imagination. Although it was not yet dark outside, lights gleamedin the lower windows of the house, and all the shutters were closed,telling that the inmates had settled themselves within for the night.The minister hesitated for a moment at the base of the broad flight ofsteps which led up to the door, wavering in his purpose to seekadmittance. Finally he stepped aside to one of the lower windows, atwhich the shutters had not been carefully closed, there being a broadchink left, through which a very good view of the interior of the roommight be had. It was a large, pleasant, well-lighted chamber, with a logfire burning cheerfully on the hearth, and giving one the idea ofcomfort and homeliness. There were several persons in the room.Sitting in her high-backed chair was the prim-looking mistress ofHaughhead, busy upon some embroidery. Opposite her, on the hearth, satBurnet of Haughhead himself, with a small table drawn up before him, anda ponderous volume lying thereon, in whose pages he seemed engrossed.It was not upon these two, however, that the yearning eyes of theminister dwelt On the hearthrug two little children were busy at theirplay: two lovely children, a boy and girl, the former, having been verydelicate in infancy, only able to toddle on his little legs, and hisbaby tongue only yet learning the mysterious language of words. A littleapart, also busy with her sewing, sat their mother, a lovely creature,to all appearance scarcely yet out of her girlhood, with a round sweetinnocent face, as delicate in hue as the tint of the lily and the rosecombined, and clear liquid blue eyes, which had evidently never yet beendimmed by bitter tears. She was a picture of serene and happy repose,not a shadow crossed her fair face, and her low humming of a familiarmelody seemed to indicate a heart at rest.
Familiar though he was with the shallowness of his wife's nature, DavidGray, looking on her face, was amazed. He had expected to see her alittle changed; he thought that a small measure of anxiety, a shadow ofregret concerning him, might have left its impress on her face. But no,she looked younger, fairer, more free from care than he had ever seenher before. If there had been any lingering hope in his mind that thewife whom he still loved, thought of, or longed for him in herseparation, it was dispelled at once and for ever. But for the twolittle ones playing at her feet, the years of her wifehood might haveseemed only the shadow of a dream, so unchanged was she from the lightand giddy girl who had ruled the house of Haughhead since her babyhood.Pleasant and suggestive as was the picture in that family room, itcaused a deep, deep shadow to come upon the sad face of the minister ofBroomhill. He felt himself utterly forgotten by those bound to him bythe nearest and dearest of ties. They had put him away out of theirhearts and lives as one undeserving of their love. Presently hispainful thoughts were interrupted by the gruff voice of Gilbert Burnet,and every word was distinctly audible.
"Give your song words, Lily," he said; "this is just the time of nightfor music. Is the harp there?"
"Yes, father," the sweet, careless tones made answer, blithely, andDavid Gray saw her throw aside her work, and approach the corner of theroom where the harp stood. Then she sat down, ran her white fingerslightly over the strings, tossed back her sunny ringlets in thecoquettish fashion he remembered so well, and then began the sweet,stirring strains of an old ballad, which had ever been a favourite indays gone by. Listening to these sweet strains, the minister ofBroomhill seemed to forget himself and his surroundings, until theabrupt cessation of the music, and a loud clapping of hands, caused himto start, and cast another look into the room. The children had nowrisen from their play, and were clapping their baby hands in glee overthe music.
Looking upon their winsome faces, the faces of his own children, givento him by God, taken from him by man, a great wave of anguish, ofunutterable yearning, swept over his soul. But he crushed it down, andturning about, stole away from the house by the way he had come. Theyhad forgotten him, they had no need of him; henceforth he was withoutwife, or children, or home, a wanderer on the face of the earth. Theywere safe and sheltered under that roof-tree, because its heads had notidentified themselves with rebellion and treason, while he was hunted,pursued, and tracked to the dens and caves of the earth, with a priceset upon his head. And yet what of that? what though perils by sea andland, perils by persecution, encompassed him, when he possessed thesweet approval of his own conscience, and the ever-present consciousnessof the presence and blessing of the Most High? To be accounted worthyhad been his earnest cry ere these desolations had fallen upon him, andnow was he one to shrink and stand back from the bearing of his cross,however heavy it might be? Nay, but a sweet peace stole into his heart,as these precious words of promise were whispered to him: "And every onethat hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sister, or father, or mother,or wife, or children, or lands, for My name's sake, shall receive anhundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life."
Henceforth God and the Covenant were all he had to live and suffer for,all he could call his own indeed upon the earth. Therefore he would goforth gladly with his brethren on the morrow to join the Covenantingarmy assembling in the south.
Not many days after that, the women folk at Hartrigge were busy abouttheir usual tasks, when a horse and rider came up to the front door, thelatter loudly demanding admittance. Jane Gray went out at once, andgreat was her astonishment to behold Gilbert Burnet, the laird ofHaughhead.
"Well, Jane Gray, 'tis a long time since we met," he said, grimly.
"It is, indeed, Mr. Burnet," answered Jane, quietly.
"And many ups and downs have taken place since then, eh?" he asked, moregrimly still.
"You speak the truth," said Jane, coldly, not liking very well themanner in which he spoke. "Will you be pleased to alight from yourhorse, and step in? In my brother's name I can bid you welcome to hishouse, and his wife will speak to you within. She has been in poorhealth these few weeks, and is confined to her own chamber."
"I'll not come in to-day," said Haughhead, bluntly. "My business can bedone here well enough. It will not take up much of your time."
"My time is at your disposal, Mr. Burnet. We are not hard pressed inthese times," she said, with a faint smile.
"No, there is a mighty difference in Hartrigge since I saw it last. Agreat fool Andrew Gray was to leave his substantial holding andcomfortable life for his present precarious existence," said Haughhead."I suppose he is not about the place."
"No; nor has been for many, many months," answered Jane, briefly.
"Ah, I thought not. It was you I expected to see. Well, I suppose youhave heard of the most gracious indulgenc
e granted by the king to theouted and rebellious ministers?"
"Yes; we heard of it some days ago," answered Jane Gray, in a calm andunreadable voice.
"You know the generous terms it offers?" said Burnet, inquiringly. "Ifthey will acknowledge the bishops, they are to be forgiven for pastrebellion and inducted into the full enjoyment of their formerbenefices. If not, they are still to be allowed to preach in the kirks,and can come back to their manses and glebes."
"Yes; we heard that such were the king's terms, Mr. Burnet," said JaneGray, but did not offer the information he was anxious to obtain.
"What, what are your brothers saying to it? What--in fact, hang it,woman!--will your brother David come back peaceably to Broomhill? Youknow very well what I want to be at!" said Haughhead, losing his temperand raising his voice.
Jane Gray looked him straight in the face with clear, calm, steadfasteyes.
"I fear not; in fact, Mr. Burnet, I know that the indulgence will makeno difference whatsoever to my brother David. On no account will he nowaccept a living from the hands of a king who has proved himself soutterly unworthy of trust or loyal service. My brother, in common withmany other thoughtful men, regards the new proclamation simply as a trapset to ensure the complete downfall of Presbyterianism in Scotland."
It was curious to watch the varying expressions on Gilbert Burnet's faceas he listened to Jane Gray's fearless and unmistakable words.
"Gad, Jane Gray! you are not afraid! I should not wonder to see yourproud head roll in the dust yet," he said, sarcastically. "Then yourbrothers will still keep themselves rebels at large, liable to be shotor hanged any day?"
"Until God sees fit to restore to the Church of Scotland a gloriousliberty, crowned and sanctioned by His own blessing and approval, mybrothers are content to undertake the risks involved by their firmupstanding for the Covenant," answered Jane Gray, with quiet butstriking eloquence.
"Then you brothers are arrant fools, and deserve whatever fate maybefall them!" fumed Haughhead. "Is David Gray in the neighbourhood?Could I see him? Although I am no bigoted zealot, I can pass my word ofhonour and keep it, as a gentleman should. He will come by no harmthrough me. I only desire to speak with him for a little space."
"It is impossible, Mr. Burnet. My brothers, and also my brother-in-law,Adam Hepburn, have left this district, and I know not where they may nowbe."
"I see you speak the truth. I had a message from my daughter, hiswife," said Haughhead, carelessly. "I can deliver it to you. Possiblyyou may have some opportunity of communicating with him at no verydistant date."
"I shall be very pleased to receive your message, Mr. Burnet, and todeliver it to David when opportunity offers."
"Well, it is just this, that if he will accept the king's generousindulgence and return to the manse of Broomhill, she will come back tohim with her children, thus showing herself willing to overlook his longdesertion."
Jane Gray drew herself up, and a slight colour rose in her cheek.
"Truly, Mr. Burnet, I think Lilian Gray cannot be a changed woman whenshe sent such a message to my brother," she said, proudly. "She shouldrather have couched her message in terms of humility, seeing she sowrongly and unkindly quitted him in the hour of his need."
"That is _your_ way of looking at it. We hold that, by his folly, DavidGray forfeited all claim on his wife's consideration," retortedHaughhead, angrily. "But it is no use arguing with a Gray, so I will beoff, Jane Gray, wishing you a very good day."
"Stay, Mr. Burnet; will you tell me, please, how it is with the littleones, my brother's bairns?" said Jane, laying a pleading hand on hisbridle rein. "I have a great yearning to see or hear something ofthem."
"Oh, they are well, and as bonnie bairns as eyes could wish to see--trueBurnets both of them," answered Haughhead, stretching a point just tovex the heart of the woman before him. "Tell David that, and tell himthat they'll soon forget they have a father at all."
With which parting shot, which brought an unbidden tear to Jane Gray'seye, the Laird of Haughhead gave his horse the rein and rode rapidlyaway.