Adam Hepburn's Vow: A Tale of Kirk and Covenant

  *CHAPTER III.*

  *FOREBODINGS OF EVIL.*

  It was the month of April, and all Nature was sweetly rejoicing in thewealth and beauty of a perfect spring. While spring is ever a pleasantseason in rural districts, it was especially so in that rich andpicturesque part of Lanarkshire which included the parish and village ofInverburn. It lay in a secluded and lovely valley, sheltered from thenorth and east by heather-clad hills, while to the west it commanded amagnificent and wide-stretching view of the Vale of Clyde, at the utmostlimit of which the smoke from the populous city of Glasgow obscured theclear brightness of the horizon. Although the parish of Inverburn wasby no means small, the village itself consisted only of a small mainstreet and a few straggling houses in the outskirts. The only buildingof any pretensions was the Hamilton Arms Inn, a substantial two-storeyblock, with a wide, low doorway and a trellised porch set round withbenches, a favourite resort for the villagers on the long summerevenings, when honest Mistress Lyall's parlour became too close and warmto be pleasant. Upon a gentle eminence about a mile removed from thevillage, the grey turrets of Inverburn, long time the seat of theHamiltons, peeped out from among its ancestral trees. It was a fine,proud old place, renowned for its beauty and its antiquity even in adistrict where many a princely heritage reared its stately head. Thegraceful spire of the parish church intervened, however, between thevillage and the mansion. It also stood upon a gentle knoll, and wasbeautifully shaded by the birch trees which were known far and near asthe "birks of Inverburn." The manse was close by, a grey and ramblinghouse, just such a one to be hallowed by many precious memories of homeand loved ones. It was a common saying that there had been Grays in themanse as long as there had been Hamiltons in Inverburn, so that the onefamily could claim equal antiquity with its prouder neighbour.

  There could be no sweeter spot to live and die in than thatold-fashioned country manse, standing so cosily amid its wealth ofgreenery, the roses and honeysuckle and sweet woodbine clambering aboutdoors and windows with a loving clinging touch. It looked fair indeedthat mild April evening, for lilac, laburnum, and hawthorn were inflower in the shrubberies, and primrose and polyanthus blooming in theold-fashioned plots before the door. The air about it was sweet andfragrant indeed; but it was more: it breathed something of the peacewhich dwelt ever under its roof-tree.

  By the open window of the family sitting-room sat a pleasant-faced,sedate-looking young woman, busily engaged embroidering a white frockfor a child. She was neatly though plainly dressed, and there was anair of precision and daintiness about her which some women acquire asthey grow older, especially if they are unmarried. It was a pleasantface, as I said, yet there was a grave firmness about the mouth, adauntless gleam in the fine clear brown eye, which betokened that JaneGray was not without a will of her own. She looked what she was, afirm, prudent, self-reliant woman, who had known the cares as well asthe joys of life. To her dying mother Jane Gray had solemnly pledgedherself not to quit the roof-tree of the manse so long as her fatherneeded her care. Both the giver and receiver of that promise had feltassured that it would not be long ere she was released from itsfulfilment, because the minister of Inverburn was at that time in aprecarious state of health.

  But, to the joy of those who loved him, certain means prescribed by anEdinburgh physician were blessed to his complete recovery, and he seemedto receive a new lease of life. That made no alteration, however, inthe resolution of the elder daughter of the manse. Very faithfully yearby year she discharged her duties as mistress of her father's household.She was mother and sister in one to her brothers, and it was a questionwhich was dearer to her heart, the broad-shouldered, bluff-manneredfarmer Andrew, or gentle-voiced, scholarly, meek-minded David, ministerof the neighbouring parish of Broomhill.

  She had watched them go forth to their own homes, with a blessing and atear, and she had dressed for her bridal her fair and delicate sisterAgnes, who had now been for two years the wife of Adam Hepburn ofRowallan. It must not be supposed that Jane Gray had no otheralternative but to remain under her father's roof-tree. Nay, it was farotherwise. Many knew and appreciated her sterling worth, and more thanone had pleaded for her love. But though there came one at last whostirred her heart to its deepest depths, she shook her head. She lookedat her father's white head and drooping shoulders, thought of hisdesolate old age, the empty, childless home she would leave behind, and,crushing down the yearnings of her heart, she answered no. Perhaps itwas that experience, undreamed of by those to whom she so unselfishlyministered, which had lined her broad brow, and tinged her hair withgrey before its time. Her face in its repose was apt to look sad, forit was in the stillness of an evening such as this that Jane Gray'sheart was often peculiarly stirred by memories of the past. She laiddown her seam at length, and leaning her arm on the sill, looked outinto the flower-laden garden, which was sweet with all the lovely bloomof spring.

  Just then her reverie was disturbed by a short, sharp whistle, and alight, hurried footfall coming round the approach which led down to thegate, and thence to the public road. And almost immediately a young ladcame bounding over to the open window, waving his cap in the air. JaneGray looked at the young, eager face with a kindly smile, for the eldestson of her brother Andrew was very dear to her heart. He had beensojourning for some months at the manse, his grandfather taking muchpride and pleasure in forwarding him in his studies preparatory to hisentering the University of Edinburgh or Glasgow, as a student ofdivinity. It had been his father's desire that he should follow hisvocation, and by-and-by succeed him as the farmer of Hartrigge, but thelad had so early shown his distaste for outdoor labour, and his love forbooks, that it was evident nature intended him for a scholar.

  "What is it, Gavin? You seem eager and excited," said his aunt,resuming her work.

  "There is a horse and rider coming up the road, Aunt Jane, and I am sureit is the Reverend James Guthrie. It is his horse, I am quite sure, bythe white foot and the white star on its forehead. Is grandfather in?"

  "Yes, he is in his study; nay, do not disturb him yet, until we makesure you are right," she said, restraining the impetuous boy, as he wasabout to run off in search of his grandfather. "Stay, and I will walkdown with you to the road, and by that time the horse and his rider,whoever he may be, will have reached the gate."

  So saying, Jane Gray folded up her work, and in a minute had joined hernephew out of doors. "I cannot think that you can be right, Gavin," shesaid thoughtfully, "for I remember that Mr. Guthrie intended to bepresent at a special meeting in Edinburgh this week, and he has not yethad time to return to Stirling and come on so far as this."

  "Why, there he is alighting at the gate, Aunt Jane! it is _just_ Mr.Guthrie!" exclaimed the lad, and darting forward, he was the first togreet the much-beloved minister of Stirling, and to relieve him of hishorse's bridle rein.

  A glow of pleasure overspread the face of Jane Gray as she advanced tomeet her father's revered friend, who was almost a brother to her, soclose and dear was the intimacy between the two families.

  "Mr. Guthrie, it is no ordinary pleasure to see you so unexpectedly,"she said, as they shook hands; nevertheless her eyes dwelt ratheranxiously upon his fine face, for in these troublous and forebodingtimes the announcement of danger or alarm might come at any moment.

  "To me also, Miss Gray; I trust I have arrived to find your honouredfather under his own roof-tree.

  "Oh, yes; he is busy with his sermon. It is not often a minister is farfrom home on a Friday evening if he is to supply his own pulpit on theSabbath Day. We thought you had been in Edinburgh this week, Mr.Guthrie."

  "So I have been; and thanks to the Lord's journeying mercies vouchsafedto his unworthy servant, I have again been brought to my father's housein safety. The lad is out of hearing, I see," he added, glancing towardsGavin, who was leading the hot and dusty steed away in the direction ofhis grandfather's stable, "so I may say that a strange apprehension o
fevil came upon me in my bed last night, and so strong was the convictionin my mind this morning that I should not long be at liberty, that I wasconstrained to ride over here to be encouraged and comforted by yourfather's sweet counsel, and, if need be, bid your family circle, who areas dear to me almost as my own kinsfolk at Guthrie, a last farewell."

  The ruddy colour faded out of Jane Gray's cheeks, and her startled eyelooked with alarm into the minister's face. She was astonished andrelieved at its sweet serenity; evidently his gloomy convictions had notpower to rob him of his tranquillity.

  "The Lord forbid that a hand should be laid on you, one of His mosthonoured and valued servants," she said involuntarily; "but pray tellme, Mr. Guthrie, have you had any warnings that the evil men in powerare jealous of your influence for good?"

  "In Edinburgh, yesterday, I was told that that good and noble lord,Archibald, Marquis of Argyll, will be laid hands upon ere long. If thatbe so, I cannot hope to escape, for I am doubly guilty of the actionswhich have doomed him. If it be so, and the Lord call me to bearwitness for Him on the scaffold, He will give me strength to crucify thepassions and affections of the body, and to glory in suffering for Hissake."

  The good man's face was suffused with a holy peace and joy, but ashudder ran through Jane Gray's frame, for not yet had the scaffoldbecome so common, and in those brutal times so desirable a mode of exitfrom this troublous life as it was destined to become ere long in poorstricken Scotland.

  "The prayers of God's people can but be offered up on your behalf, Mr.Guthrie. Such as you can ill be spared from the vineyard in thesetimes," said Jane Gray, earnestly. "But now, let us tarry no longer outof doors; I am sure you stand in need of refreshment after your longride."

  Ere he crossed the threshold, the minister, as was his wont, raised hiseyes to Heaven and reverently invoked a benediction in the words of theapostle of old: "Peace be to this house."

  Having shown her guest into the sitting-room, Jane Gray sent Betty themaid to tap at the minister's door and tell him the Reverend JamesGuthrie, from Stirling, had arrived at the manse. Betty, or ElizabethMcBean, had served with the Grays since her girlhood, and her love forthe family was only exceeded by her intense love and devotion to theKirk of Scotland, and her intense hatred to every form of religion aliento the sound Presbyterianism of her forefathers.

  While Jane Gray with her own hands set about preparing some refreshmentfor the guest, the minister, her father, left his study with joyfulhaste, and entering the family room, very warmly greeted his friend andbrother-minister, whom he had known and loved these many years. Therewas a great change in the minister of Inverburn since that memorabletime three-and-twenty years before, when he had visited Edinburgh, andwitnessed with his brethren for the Covenant in the Kirk of theGreyfriars.

  His tall, spare figure was now much stooped, his face worn and wrinkled,his eye, though still bright and clear, far sunken in his head, his longhair and flowing beard as white as the driven snow. He looked apatriarch indeed, and the serene and heavenly expression on his face,his kindly smile, and sweet fatherliness of manner and tone werecalculated to inspire the deepest reverence and love.

  "Bless the Lord, I am again permitted to look upon your face, mybrother!" he said, as he warmly and fervently grasped Mr. Guthrie'shand. "But I trust no untoward circumstances prompt your unlooked-forvisit. In these troublous times we are all as watchers on thehouse-top."

  "I was but saying to your daughter, Mr. Gray, that it was a presentimentof evil which brought me here to-night," replied the minister ofStirling. "I only returned from Edinburgh yesterday, and what I heardthere augured ill for the peace of Zion. It is rumoured that theMarquis of Argyll is no longer safe, so the king's emissaries are not tobe satisfied with common prey."

  "I can hardly credit the truth of such rumours, Mr. Guthrie," repliedthe minister of Inverburn. "Gratitude for past invaluable servicesshould render his person sacred in the eyes of the king."

  An expression of mild scorn passed over Mr. Guthrie's face.

  "Gratitude is a word not found in the vocabulary of the House ofStuart," he said, quietly. "The Marquis, I am told, leaves for Londonon Monday, to offer his congratulations to the king on his restoration.I fear me he takes the journey at his own great risk."

  "If need be the Lord will hold His sheltering arm over him, Mr.Guthrie," said the minister of Inverburn, cheerfully. "No man, eitherprince or peasant, shall die before the appointed time. But here comesJane with your refreshment. I hope it is not your intention to quit theroof-tree of the manse before the dawning of another day."

  "If convenient for Miss Jane I will very gladly stay," answered Mr.Guthrie. "As troubles thicken round us, opportunities for sweet counseltogether, though more sorely needed, will become more limited, I fear.And now, are all your kinsfolk at Hartrigge and Rowallan well? and isthe kirk at Broomhill prospering under David's ministrations?"

  "Verily the Lord hath been pleased to greatly bless the lad in hislabours," said the minister of Inverburn, in tones of satisfaction."Here comes young Gavin Gray, in whose studies I take a deep interest.Here Gavin, lad, come and speak to the Reverend Mr. Guthrie, and beholdin him the pattern of what I one day hope to see you become."

  The bright, happy-faced boy came forward frankly, and was againaddressed cordially by the minister of Stirling.

  "I have been thinking, father," said Jane Gray's pleasant voice in thedoorway, "that Gavin might saddle Donald, and carry word of Mr.Guthrie's visitation both to his father's house, and to his uncle andaunt at Rowallan. Andrew and Susan, I am sure, would be greatlyrejoiced to come over to the manse. They could drive round in theirlittle cart to Rowallan, and bring over Adam and Agnes with them."

  "A very good suggestion, my daughter," said Mr. Gray. "You hear whatyour aunt says, Gavin," he added to the lad. "Run and get Donaldsaddled and if you ride quickly they can all be here before the eveningis far spent."

  Gavin, nothing loth, at once obeyed his grandfather's behest, and wassoon scampering along the road towards Hartrigge.