
 
 <l|||li' X. 'IIIIP P^ ''ilili' J^ 'Hjil 
 
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 ■li' 
 
 The 
 Little Minister 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE 
 
 J. a SEARS & COMPANY. INC 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 NEW YORK 
 
 
 T yV V y' V T y\T 
 
 "^/xll
 
 Set up. Printed and Bound at the 
 KINGSPORT PRESS 
 KiNGSPORT Tennessee 
 United States of America
 
 srlF 
 
 YRL 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGB 
 
 I. The Love-light i 
 
 II. Runs alongside the Making of a Minister 5 
 
 III. The Night-watchers 9 
 
 IV. First Coming of the Egyptian Woman . . 16 
 
 V. A Warlike Chapter, Culminating in the 
 
 Flouting of the Minister by the Woman . 25 
 
 VI. In which the Soldiers Meet the Amazons 
 
 of Thrums 31 
 
 VII. Has the Folly of Looking into a Woman's 
 
 Eyes by Way of Text 39 
 
 VIII. Three a. m. — Monstrous Audacity of the 
 
 Woman 44 
 
 IX. The Woman Considered in Absence — Ad- 
 ventures of a Military Cloak .... 51 
 
 X. First Sermon against Women 55 
 
 XI. Tells in a Whisper of Man's Fall during 
 
 THE Curling Season 63 
 
 XII. Tragedy of a Mud House 69 
 
 XIII. Second Coming of the Egyptian Woman . 74 
 
 XIV. The Minister Dances to the Woman's 
 
 Piping 80 
 
 XV. The Minister Bewitched — Second Sermon 
 
 against Women 86 
 
 XVI. Continued Misbehaviour of the Egyptian 
 
 Woman 92 
 
 XVII. Caddam — Love Leading to a Rupture . . 98 
 
 XVIII. Circumstances Leading to the First Ser- 
 mon IN Approval of Women 103 
 
 XIX. End of the State of Indecision .... 109 
 XX. Night — Margaret — Flashing of a Lantern 1x5 
 iii
 
 IV 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 > XL. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Lox-ERS 121 
 
 The New World, and the Woman Who 
 
 May Not Dwell Therein 128 
 
 Beginning of the Twenty-four Hours . . 132 
 
 Scene at the Spittal 137 
 
 First Journey of the Dominie to Thrums 
 
 during the twenty-four hours . . . i4i 
 
 The Hill before Darkness Fell — Scene of 
 
 THE Impending Catastrophe 145 
 
 Story of the Egyptian 150 
 
 The Meeting for Rain 156 
 
 Various Bodies Converging on the Hill . 161 
 
 Leading Swiftly to the Appalling Mar- 
 riage 168 
 
 While the Ten o'Clock Bell Was Ringing 171 
 
 The Great Rain 176 
 
 The Glen at Break of Day 179 
 
 Story of the Dominie 188 
 
 Second Journey of the Dominie to Thrums 
 
 during the Twenty-four Hours . . . 195 
 
 Thrums during the Twenty-four Hours — 
 
 Defence of the Manse 201 
 
 How Babbie Spent the Night of August 
 
 Fourth 207 
 
 Babbie and Margaret — Defence of the Manse 
 
 Continued 212 
 
 Rintoul and Babbie — Breakdown of the De- 
 fence of the Manse 217 
 
 Margaret, the Precentor, and God Between 223 
 
 Rain — Mist — The Jaws 228 
 
 End of the Twenty-four Hours .... 235 
 
 Talk of a Little Maid Since Grown Tall 239
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE LOVE-LIGHT. 
 
 Long ago, in the days when our caged blackbirds never 
 saw a king's soldier without whistling impudently, "Come 
 ewer the water to Charlie," a minister of Thrums was to be 
 married, but something happened, and he remained a bachelor. 
 Then, when he was old, he passed in our square the lady who 
 was to have been his wife, and her hair was white, but she, 
 too, was still unmarried. The meeting had only one wit- 
 ness, a weaver, and he said solemnly afterwards, "They didna 
 speak, but they just gave one another a look, and I saw tlie 
 love-light in their een." No more is remembered of these 
 two, no being now living ever saw them, but the poetry 
 that was in the soul of a battered weaver makes them human 
 to us for ever. 
 
 It is of another minister I am to tell, but only to those who 
 know that light when they see it. I am not bidding good-bye 
 to many readers, for though it is true that some men, of whom 
 Lord Rintoul was one, live to an old age without knowing 
 love, few of us can have met them, and of women so incom- 
 plete I never heard. 
 
 Gavin Dishart was barely twenty-one when he and his 
 mother came to Thrums, light-hearted like the traveller who 
 knows not what awaits him at the bend of the road. It was 
 the time of year when the ground is carpeted beneath the 
 firs with brown needles, when split-nuts patter all day from 
 the beech, and children lay yellow corn on the dominie's desk 
 to remind him that now they are needed in the fields. The 
 day was so silent that carts could be heard rumbling a mile 
 away. All Thrums was out in its wynds and closes — a few 
 of the weavers still in knee-breeches — to look at the new 
 Auld Licht minister. I was there, too, the dominie of Glen 
 Quharity, which is four miles from Thrums; and heavy was
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 my heart as I stood afar off so that Gavin's mother might 
 not have the pain of seeing me. I was the only one in the 
 crowd who looked at her more than at her son. 
 
 Eighteen years had passed since we parted. Already her 
 hair had lost the hrightness of its youth, and she seemed to 
 me smaller and more fragile ; and the face that I loved when 
 I was a hobbledehoy, and loved when I looked once more 
 upon it in Thrums, and always shall love till I die, was soft 
 and worn. Margaret was an old woman, and she was only 
 forty-three : and I am the man who made her old. As Gavin 
 put his eager, boyish face out at the carriage window, many 
 saw that he was holding her hand, but none could be glad at 
 the sight as the dominie was glad, looking on at a happiness 
 in which he dared not mingle. Margaret was crying because 
 she was so proud of her boy. Women do that. Poor sons 
 to be proud of, good mothers, but I would not have you dry 
 those tears. 
 
 When the little minister looked out at the carriage window, 
 many of the people drew back humbly, but a little boy in a 
 red frock with black spots pressed forward and offered him 
 a sticky parly, which Gavin accepted, though not without 
 a tremor, for children were more terrible to him then than 
 bearded men. The boy's mother, trying not to look elated, 
 bore him away, but her face said that he was made for life. 
 With this little incident Gavin's career in Thrums began. I 
 remembered it suddenly the other day when wading across 
 the wynd w'here it took place. Many scenes in the little 
 minister's life come back to me in this way. The first time 
 I ever thought of writing his love story as an old man's gift 
 to a little maid since grown tall, was one night while I 
 sat alone in the schoolhouse ; on my knees a fiddle that has 
 been my only living companion since I sold my hens. My 
 mind had drifted back to the first time I saw Gavin and 
 the Egyptian together, and what set it wandering to that 
 midnight meeting was my garden gate shaking in the wind. 
 At a gate on the hill I had first encountered these two. It 
 rattled in his hand, and I looked jip and saw them, and 
 neither knew why I had nuch cause to start at the sight. 
 Then the gate swung to. It had just such a click as mine. 
 
 These two figures on the hill are more real to me than 
 things that happened yesterday, but I do not know that I can 
 make them live to others. A ghost-show used to come yearly 
 to Thrums on the merry Muckle Friday, in which the illusion 
 was contrived by hanging a glass between the onlookers and
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 the stage. I cannot deny that the comings and goings of the 
 ghost were highly diverting, yet the farmer of T'nowhead 
 only laughed because he had paid his money at the hole in 
 the door like the rest of us. T'nowhead sat at the end of 
 a form where he saw round the glass and so saw no ghost. 
 I fear my public may be in the same predicament. I see 
 the little minister as he was at one and twenty, and the little 
 girl to whom this story is to belong sees him, though the 
 things I have to tell happened before she came into the 
 world. But there are reasons why she should see ; and I 
 do not know that I can provide the glass for others. If they 
 see round it, they will neither laugh nor cry with Gavin and 
 Babbie. 
 
 When Gavin came to Thrums he was as I am now, for the 
 pages lay before him on which he was to write his life. Yet 
 he was not quite as I am. The life of every man is a diary 
 in which he means to write one story, and writes another ; 
 and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it 
 is with what he vowed to make it. But the biographer sees 
 the last chapter while he is still at the first, and I have only 
 to write over with ink what Gavin has written in pencil. 
 
 How often is it a phantom woman who draws the man 
 from the way he meant to go? So was man created, to 
 hunger for the ideal that is above himself, until one day 
 there is magic in the air, and the eyes of a girl rest upon 
 him. He does not know that it is he himself who crowned 
 her, and if the girl is as pure as he, their love is the one 
 form of idolatry that is not quite ignoble. It is the joining 
 of two souls on their way to God. But if the woman be bad, 
 the test of the man is when he wakens from his dream., The 
 nobler his ideal, the further will he have been hurried down 
 the wrong way, for those who only run after little things will 
 not go far. His love may now sink into passion, perhaps 
 only to stain its wings and rise again, perhaps to drown. 
 
 Babbie, what shall I say of you to make me write these 
 things? I am not your judge. Shall we not laugh at the 
 student who chafes when between him and his book comes 
 the song of the thrushes, with whom, on the mad night you 
 danced into Gavin's life, you had more in common than with 
 Auld Licht ministers? The gladness of living was in your 
 step, your voice was melody, and he was wondering what 
 love might be. 
 
 You were the daughter of a summer night, born where all 
 the birds are free, and the moon christened you with her
 
 THE LITTLE INIINISTER 
 
 soft light to dazzle the eyes of man. Not our little minister 
 alone was stricken by you into his second childhood. To 
 look upon you was to rejoice that so fair a thing could be; 
 to think of you is still to be young. Even those who called 
 you a little devil, of whom I have been one, admitted that 
 in the end you had a soul, though not that you had been 
 born with one. They said you stole it, and so made a woman 
 of yourself. But again I say I am not your judge, and when 
 I picture you as Gavin saw you first, a bare-legged witch 
 dancing up Windyghoul, rowan berries in your black hair, 
 and on your finger a jewel the little minister could not have 
 bought with five years of toil, the shadows on my pages lift, 
 and I cannot wonder that Gavin loved you. 
 
 Often I say to myself that this is to be Gavin's story, not 
 mine. Yet must it be mine, too, in a manner, and of myself 
 I shall sometimes have to speak; not willingly, for it is time 
 my little tragedy had died of old age. I have kept it to 
 myself so long that now I would stand at its grave alone. It 
 is true that when I heard who was to be the new minister I 
 hoped for a day that the life broken in Harvie might be 
 mended in Thrums, but two minutes' talk with Gavin showed 
 me that Margaret had kept from him the secret which was 
 hers and mine, and so knocked the bottom out of my vain 
 hopes. I did not blame her then, nor do I blame her now, nor 
 shall any one who blames her ever be called friend by me; 
 but it was bitter to look at the white manse among the trees 
 and know that I must never enter it. For Margaret's sake 
 I had to keep aloof, yet this new trial came upon me like 
 our parting at Harvie. I thought that in those eighteen years 
 my passions had burned like a ship till they sank, but I suf- 
 fered again as on that awful night w^hen Adam Dishart 
 came back, nearly killing Margaret and tearing up all my 
 ambitions by the root in a single hour. I waited in Thrums 
 until I had looked again on Margaret, who thought me dead, 
 and Gavin, who had never heard of me, and then I trudged 
 back to the schoolhouse. Something I heard of them from 
 time to time during the winter, — for in the gossip of Thrums 
 I was well posted, — but much of what is to be told here I 
 only learned afterwards from those who knew it best. 
 Gavin heard of me at times as the dominie in the glen who 
 had ceased to attend the Auld Licht kirk, and Margaret did 
 not even hear of me. It was all I could do for them.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 RUNS ALONGSIDE THE MAKING OF A MINISTER. 
 
 On the east coast of Scotland, hidden, as if in a quarry, 
 at the foot of cliffs that may one day fall forward, is a 
 village called Harvie. So has it shrunk since the day when 
 I sulked from it that I hear of a traveller's asking lately 
 at one of its doors how far he was from a village ; yet 
 Harvie throve once and was celebrated even in distant 
 Thrums for its fish. Most of our weavers would have 
 thought it as unnatural not to buy harvies in the square on 
 the Muckle Friday, as to let Saturday night pass without 
 laying in a sufficient stock of halfpennies to go round the 
 family twice. 
 
 Gavin was born in Harvie, but left it at such an early age 
 that he could only recall thatched houses with nets drying 
 on the roofs, and a sandy shore in which coarse grass grew. 
 In the picture he could not pick out the house of his birth, 
 though he might have been able to go to it had he ever 
 returned to the village. Soon he learned that his mother did 
 not care to speak of Harvie, and perhaps he thought that 
 she had forgotten it, too, all save one scene to which his 
 memory still guided him. When his mind wandered to Har- 
 vie, Gavin saw the door of his home open and a fisherman 
 enter, who scratched his head and then said, "Your man's 
 drowned, missis." Gavin seemed to see many women cry- 
 ing, and his mother staring at them with a face suddenly 
 painted white, and next to hear a voice that was his own 
 saying, "Never mind, mother; I'll be a man to you now, 
 and I'll need breeks for the burial." But Adam required 
 no funeral, for his body lay deep in the sea. 
 
 Gavin thought that this was the tragedy of his mother's 
 life, and the most memorable event of his own childhood. 
 But it was neither. When Margaret, even after she came 
 to Thrums, thought of Harvie. it was not at Adam's death 
 she shuddered, but at the recollection of me. 
 
 It would ill become me to take a late revenge on Adam 
 Dishart now by saying what is not true of him. Though 
 he died a fisherman, he was a sailor for a great part of his 
 life, and doubtless his recklessness was washed into him 
 on the high seas, where in his time men made a crony of 
 death, and drank merrily over dodging it for another night.
 
 THE LITTLE IMINISTER 
 
 To me his roars of laughter without cause were as re- 
 pellent as a boy's drum; yet many faces that were long in 
 my company brightened at his coming, and women, with 
 whom, despite my yearning, I was in no wise a favourite, 
 ran to their doors to listen to him as readily as to the bell- 
 man. Children scurried from him if his mood was savage, 
 but to him at all other times, while me they merely disre- 
 garded. There was always a smell of the sea about him. 
 He had a rolling gait, unless he was drunk, when he walked 
 very straight, and before both sexes he boasted that any 
 woman would take him for his beard alone. 
 
 Adam was drowned on Gavin's fourth birthday, a year 
 after I had to leave Harvie. He was blown off his smack 
 in a storm, and could not reach the rope his partner flung 
 him. "It's no go, lad," he shouted; "so long, Jim," and sank. 
 
 A month afterwards Margaret sold her share in the 
 smack, which was all Adam left her, and the furniture of 
 the house was roup'ed. She took Gavin to Glasgow, where 
 her only brother needed a housekeeper, and there mother 
 and son remained until Gavin got his call to Thrums. Dur- 
 ing those seventeen years I lost knowledge of them as com- 
 pletely as Margaret had lost knowledge of me. On hearing 
 of Adam's death I went back to Harvie to try to trace 
 her, but she had feared this, and so told no one where she 
 was going. 
 
 According to jMargaret, Gavin's genius showed itself while 
 he was still a child. He was born with a brow whose no- 
 bility impressed her from the first. It was a minister's 
 brow, and though Margaret herself was no scholar, being as 
 slow to read as she was quick at turning bannocks on the 
 girdle, she decided, M'hen his age was still counted by months, 
 that the ministry had need of him. 
 
 Margaret's brother died, but she remained in his single 
 room, and, ever with a picture of her son in a pulpit to 
 repay her, contrived to keep Gavin at school. Everything 
 a woman's fingers can do Margaret's did better than most, 
 and among the wealthy people who employed her — would 
 that I could have the teaching of the sons of such as were 
 good to her in those hard days ! — her gentle manner was 
 spoken of. For though Margaret had no schooling, she was 
 a lady at heart, moving and almost speaking as one even, 
 in Harvie, where they did not perhaps like her the better 
 for it. 
 
 At six Gavin hit another boy hard for belonging to the
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 Established Church, and at seven he could not lose him- 
 self in the Shorter Catechism. His mother expounded the 
 Scriptures to him till he was eight, when he began to ex- 
 pound them to her. By this time he was studying the prac- 
 tical work of the pulpit as enthusiastically as ever medical 
 student cut off a leg. From a front pew in the gallery Gavin 
 watched the minister's every movement, noting that the first 
 thing to do on ascending the pulpit is to cover your face with 
 your hands, as if the exalted position affected ,you like a 
 strong light, and the second to move the big Bible slightly, to 
 show that the kirk officer, not having had a university educa- 
 tion, could not be expected to know the very spot on which it 
 ought to lie. It was noteworthy that the first prayer lasted 
 longer than all the others, and that to read the intimations 
 about the Bible-class and the collection elsewhere than imme- 
 diately before the last Psalm would have been as sacrilegious 
 as to insert the dedication to King James at the end of Rev- 
 elation. Sitting under a minister justly honoured in his day, 
 the boy was often some words in advance of him, not vain- 
 glorious of his memory, but fervent, eager, and regarding the 
 preacher as hardly less sacred than the Book. Gavin was 
 encouraged by his frightened yet admiring mother to saw the 
 air from their pew as the minister sawed it in the pulpit, and 
 two benedictions were pronounced twice a Sabbath in that 
 church, in the same words, the same manner, and simultane- 
 ously. 
 
 When Gavin was twelve he went to the university, and also 
 got a place in a shop as errand boy. He used to run through 
 the streets between his work and his classes. Potatoes and 
 salt fish, which could then be got at two pence the pound if 
 bought by the half hundredweight, were his food. There was 
 not always a good meal for two, yet when Gavin reached 
 home at night there was generally something ready for him, 
 and Margaret had supped "hours ago." Gavin's hunger urged 
 him to fall to, but his love for his mother made him watchful. 
 
 "What did you have yourself, mother?" he would demand, 
 suspiciously. 
 
 "Oh, I had a fine supper, I assure you," 
 
 "What had you?" 
 
 "I had potatoes, for one thing." 
 
 "And dripping?" 
 
 "You may be sure." 
 
 "Mother, you're cheating me. The dripping hasn't been 
 touched since yesterday."
 
 8 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "I dinna — don't — care for dripping — no much." 
 
 Then would Gavin stride the room fiercely, a queer little 
 6gure. 
 
 "Do you think I'll stand this, mother? Will I let myself 
 be pampered with dripping and every delicacy while you 
 starve ?" 
 
 "Gavin, I really dinna care for dripping." 
 
 "Then I'll give up my classes, and we can have butter." 
 
 "I assure you I'm no hungry. It's different wi' a growing 
 laddie." 
 
 "I'm not a growing laddie," Gavin would say, bitterly; 
 "but, mother, I warn you that not another bite passes my 
 throat till I sec you eating, too." 
 
 So Margaret had to take her seat at the table, and when 
 she said "I can eat no more," Gavin retorted sternly, "Nor 
 will I, for fine I see through you." 
 
 To Margaret it was happiness to sit through the long eve- 
 nings sewing, and look over her work at Gavin as he read 
 or wrote or recited to himself the learning of the schools. 
 But she coughed every time the weather changed, and then 
 Gavin would start. 
 
 "You must go to your bed, mother," he would say, tearing 
 himself from his books ; or he would sit beside her and talk 
 of the dream that was common to both, — a dream of a manse 
 where Margaret was mistress and Gavin was called the min- 
 ister. Every night Gavin was at his mother's bedside to wind 
 her shawl round her feet, and while he did it Margaret 
 smiled. 
 
 "Mother, this is the chaff pillow you've taken out of my 
 bed, and given me your feather one." 
 
 "Gavin, you needna change them. I winna have the feather 
 pillow." 
 
 "Do you dare to think I'll let you sleep on chaff? Put up 
 your head. Now, is that soft?" 
 
 "It's fine. I dinna deny but what I sleep better on feathers. 
 Do you mind. Gavin, you bought this pillow for me the mo- 
 ment you got your bursary money?" 
 
 So the years passed, an 1 soon Gavin would be a minister. 
 He had now sermons to prepare, and every one of them was 
 first preached to Margaret. How solemn was his voice, how 
 his eyes flashed, how stern were his admonitions. 
 
 Not long before Gavin preached for our kirk and got his 
 rail, a great event took place in the little room at Glasgow. 
 T'he student appeared for tlip first time before his mother in
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 his ministerial clothes. He wore the black silk hat, that was 
 destined to become a terror to evil-doers in Thrums, and I 
 dare say he was rather puffed up about himself that day. You 
 would probably have smiled at him. 
 
 "It's a pity I'm so little, mother," he said with a sigh. 
 
 "You're no what I would call a particularly long man," 
 Margaret said, "but you're just the height 1 like." 
 
 Then Gavin went out in his grandeur, and Margaret cried 
 for an hour. She was thinking of me as well as of Gavin, 
 and, as it happens, I know that I was thinking at the same 
 time of her. 
 
 Busy days followed the call to Thrums, and Gavin had 
 difficulty in forcing himself to his sermons when there was 
 always something more to tell his mother about the weaving 
 town they were going to, or about the manse or the furni- 
 ture that had been transferred to him by the retiring min- 
 ister. The little room which had become so familiar that it 
 seemed one of a family party of three had to be stripped, and 
 many of its contents were sold. 
 
 "Gavin, Gavin," Margaret said many times in those last 
 days at Glasgow, "to think it has all come true!" 
 
 "Let the last word you say in the house be a prayer of 
 thankfulness," she whispered to him when they were taking 
 a final glance at the old home. 
 
 In the bare room they called the house, the little minister 
 and his mother went on their knees, but, as it chanced, their 
 last word there was not addressed to God. 
 
 "Gavin," Margaret whispered as he took her arm, "do you 
 think this bonnet sets me?" 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 THE NIGHT-WATCHERS. 
 
 What first struck Margaret in Thrums was the smell of 
 the caddis. The town smells of caddis no longer, but whiffs 
 of it may be got even now as one passes the houses of the 
 old, where the lay still swings at little windows like a great 
 ghost pendulum. To me it is a homely smell, which I draw 
 in with a great breath, but it was as strange to Margaret 
 as the weavers themselves, who, in their coloured nightcaps 
 and corduroys streaked with threads, gazed at her and Gavin.
 
 10 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 The little minister was trying to look severe and old, but 
 twenty-one was in his eye. 
 
 "Look, mother, at that white house with the green roof. 
 That is the manse." 
 
 When Margaret entered the manse on Gavin's arm, it 
 was a whitewashed house of five rooms, with a garret in which 
 the minister could sleep if he had guests, as during the Fast 
 week. It stood with its garden within high walls, and the 
 roof facing southward was carpeted with moss that shone 
 in the sun in a dozen shades of green and yellow. Three 
 firs guarded the house from west winds, but blasts from the 
 north often tore down the steep fields and skirled through the 
 manse, banging all its doors at once. A beech, growing on the 
 east side, leant over the roof as if to gossip with the well 
 in the courtyard. The garden was to the south, and was 
 overfull of gooseberry and currant bushes. It contained a 
 summer seat where strange things were soon to happen. 
 
 He in whose ways Gavin was to attempt the heavy task 
 of walking had been a widower three months after his mar- 
 riage, a man narrow when he came to Thrums, but so large- 
 hearted when he left it that I, who know there is good in 
 all the world because of the lovable souls I have met in this 
 corner of it, yet cannot hope that many are as near to God 
 as he. The most gladsome thing in the world is that few 
 of us fall very low; the saddest that, with such capabilities, 
 we seldom rise high. Of those who stand perceptibly above 
 their fellows I have known very few; only Mr. Carfrae and 
 two or three women. 
 
 Gavin only saw a very frail old minister who shook as he 
 walked, as if his feet were striking against stones. He was 
 to depart on the morrow to the place of his birth, but he came 
 to the manse to wish his successor Godspeed. Strangers were 
 so formidable to Margaret that she only saw him from her 
 window. 
 
 "May you never lose sight of God, Mr. Dishart," the old 
 man said in the parlour. Then he added, as if he had asked 
 too much: "May you never turn from Him as I often did 
 when I was a lad like yci." 
 
 As this aged minister, with the beautiful face that God 
 gives to all who love Him and follow His commandments, 
 spoke of his youth, He looked wistfully round the faded 
 parlour. 
 
 "It is like a dream." he said. "The first time I entered 
 this room the thought oassed through me that I would cut
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 11 
 
 down that cherry-tree, because it kept out the light, but, you 
 see, it outlives me. I grew old while looking for the axe. 
 Only yesterday I was the young minister, Mr. Dishart, and 
 to-morrow you will be the old one, bidding good-bye to your 
 successor." 
 
 His eyes came back to Gavin's eager face. 
 
 "You are very young, Mr. Dishart?" 
 
 "Nearly twenty-one." 
 
 "Twenty-one ! Ah, my dear sir, you do not know how pa- 
 thetic that sounds to me. Twenty-one ! We are children 
 for the second time at twenty-one, and again when we are 
 gray and put all our burden on the Lord. The young talk 
 generously of relieving the old of their burdens, but the 
 anxious heart is to the old when they see a load on the back 
 of the young. Let me tell you, Mr. Dishart, that I would 
 condone many things in one and twenty now that I dealt 
 hardly with at middle age. God Himself, I think, is very 
 willing to give one and twenty a second chance." 
 
 "I am afraid," Gavin said, anxiously, "that I look even 
 younger." 
 
 "I think," Mr. Carfrae answered, smiling, "that your heart 
 is as fresh as your face ; and that is well. The useless men 
 are those who never change with the years. Many views 
 that I held to in my youth and long afterwards are a pain 
 to me now, and I am carrying away from Thrums memories 
 of errors into which I fell at every stage of my ministry. 
 When you are older you will know that life is a long lesson 
 in humility." 
 
 He paused. 
 
 "I hope," he said, nervously, "that you don't sing the Para- 
 phrases?" 
 
 Mr. Carfrae had not grown out of all his prejudices, you 
 see ; indeed, if Gavin had been less bigoted than he on this 
 question they might have parted stiffly. The old minister 
 would rather have remained to die in his pulpit than surrender 
 it to one who read his sermons. Others may blame him for 
 this, but I must say here plainly that I never hear a minister 
 reading without wishing to send him back to college. 
 
 "I cannot deny," Mr. Carfrae said, "that I broke down 
 more than once to-day. This forenoon I was in Tillyloss, 
 for the last time, and it so happens that there is scarcely a 
 house in it in which I have not had a marriage or prayed 
 over a coffin. Ah, sir, these are the scenes that make the min- 
 ister more than all his sermons. You must join the family,
 
 12 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 Mr. Dishart, or you are only a minister once a week. And 
 remember this, if your call is from above, it is a call to stay. 
 Many such partings in a lifetime as I have had to-day would 
 be too heartrending." 
 
 "And yet," Gavin said, hesitatingly, "they told me in Glas- 
 gow that I had received a call from the mouth of hell." 
 
 "Those were cruel words, but they only mean that people 
 who are seldom more than a day's work in advance of want 
 sometimes rise in arms for food. Our weavers are passion- 
 ately religious, and so independent that they dare any one 
 to help them, but if their wages were lessened they could 
 not live. And so at talk of reduction they catch fire. Change 
 of any kind alarms them, and though they call themselves 
 Whigs, they rose a few years ago over the paving of the 
 streets and stoned the workmen, who were strangers, out 
 of the town. 
 
 "And though you may have thought the place quiet to-day, 
 Mr. Dishart, there was an ugly outbreak only two months ago, 
 when the weavers turned on the manufacturers for reducing 
 the price of the web, made a bonfire of some of their doors, 
 and terrified one of them into leaving Thrums. Under the 
 command of some Chartists, the people next paraded the 
 streets to the music of fife and drum, and six policemen 
 who drove up from Tilliedrum in a light cart were sent back 
 tied to the seats." 
 
 "No one has been punished?" 
 
 "Not yet, but nearly two years ago there was a similar 
 riot, and the sheriff took no action for months. Then one 
 night the square suddenly filled with soldiers, and the ring- 
 leaders were seized in their beds. Mr. Dishart, the people 
 are determined not to be caught in that way again, and ever 
 since the rising a watch has been kept by night on every 
 road that leads to Thrums. The signal that the soldiers 
 are coming is to be the blowing of a horn. If you ever hear 
 that horn, I implore you to hasten to the square." 
 
 "The weavers would not fight?" 
 
 "You do not know how the Chartists have fired this part of 
 the country. One misty Jay, a week ago, I was on the hill ; 
 I thought I had it to myself, when suddenly I heard a voice 
 cry sharply, 'Shoulder anns.' I could see no one, and after 
 a moment I put it down to a freak of the wind. Then all 
 at once the mist before me blackened, and a body of men 
 seemed to grow out of it. They were not shadows ; they were 
 Thrums weavers drilling, with pikes in their hands.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 13 
 
 "They broke up," Mr, Carfrae continued, after a pause, "at 
 my entreaty, but they have met again since then." 
 
 "And there were Auld Lichts among them?" Gavin asked. 
 "I should have thought they would be frightened at our 
 precentor, Lang Tammas, who seems to watch for back- 
 sliding in the congregation as if he had pleasure in discover- 
 ing it." 
 
 Gavin spoke with feeling, for the precentor had already 
 put him through his catechism, and it was a stiff ordeal. 
 
 "The precentor !" said Mr. Carfrae. "Why, he was one 
 of them." 
 
 The old minister, once so brave a figure, tottered as he 
 rose to go, and reeled in a dizziness until he had walked 
 a few paces. Gavin went with him to the foot of the manse 
 road ; without his hat, as all Thrums knew before bedtime. 
 
 "I begin," Gavin said, as they were parting, "where you 
 leave off, and my prayer is that I may walk in your ways." 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Dishart," the white-haired minister said, with a 
 sigh, "the world does not progress so quickly as a man 
 grows old. You only begin where I began." 
 
 He left Gavin, and then, as if the little minister's last 
 words had hurt him, turned and solemnly pointed his staff 
 upward. Such men are the strong nails that keep the world 
 together. 
 
 The twenty-one-years-old minister returned to the manse 
 somewhat sadly, but when he saw his mother at the window 
 of her bedroom, his heart leapt at the thought that she was 
 with him and he had eighty pounds a year. Gaily he waved 
 both his hands to her, and she answered with a smile, and 
 then, in his boyishness, he jumped over a gooseberry bush. 
 Immediately afterwards he reddened and tried to look ven- 
 erable, for while in the air he had caught sight of two women 
 and a man watching him from the dyke. He walked severely 
 to the door, and, again forgetting himself, was bounding up- 
 stairs to Margaret, when Jean, the servant, stood scandalised 
 in his way. 
 
 "I don't think she caught me," was Gavin's reflection, and 
 "The Lord preserve's !" was Jean's. 
 
 Gavin found his mother wondering how one should set 
 about getting a cup of tea in a house that had a servant in 
 it. He boldly rang the bell, and the willing Jean answered 
 it so promptly (in a rush and jump) that Margaret was as 
 much startled as Aladdin the first time he rubbed his lamp. 
 
 "There's a curran folk at the back door," Jean announced
 
 14 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 later, "and their respects to you, and would you gie them 
 some water out o' the well ? It has been a drouth this aucht 
 days, and the pumps is locked. Na," she said, as Gavin made 
 a too liberal offer, "that would toom the well, and there's 
 j imply enough for oursels. I should tell you, too, that three 
 o' them is no Auld Lichts." 
 
 "Let that make no difference," Gavin said, grandly, but 
 Jean changed his message to: "A bowlful apiece to Auld 
 Lichts; all other denominations one cupful." 
 
 "Ay, ay," said Snecky Hobart, letting down the bucket, 
 "and we'll include atheists among other denominations." The 
 conversation came to Gavin and Margaret through the kitchen 
 doorway. 
 
 "Dinna class Jo Cruickshanks wi' me," said Sam'l Lang- 
 lands the U. P. 
 
 "Na, na," said Cruickshanks the atheist, "I'm ower in- 
 dependent to be religious. I dinna gang to the kirk to cry, 
 'Oh, Lord, gie, gie, gie.' " 
 
 "Take tent o' yoursel', my man," said Lang Tammas, 
 sternly, "or you'll soon be whaur you would neifer the warld 
 for a cup o' that cauld water." 
 
 "Maybe you've ower keen an interest in the devil, Tam- 
 mas," retorted the atheist; "but, ony way, if it's heaven for 
 climate, it's hell for company." 
 
 "Lads," said Snecky, sitting down on the bucket, "we'll 
 send Mr. Dishart to Jo. He'll make another Rob Dow o' 
 him." 
 
 "Speak mair reverently o' your minister," said the pre- 
 centor. "He has the gift." 
 
 "I hinna naturally your solemn rasping word, Tammas, 
 but in the heart I speak in all reverence. Lads, the minister 
 has a word ! I tell you he prays near like one giving or- 
 ders." 
 
 "Ay, he can pray for a black frost as if it was ane o' the 
 Royal Family. I ken his prayers, 'O Lord, let it baud for 
 anither day, and keep the snaw awa'.' Will you pretend, 
 Jeames, that Mr. Duthie could make onything o' Rob Dow?" 
 
 "I admit that Rob's iwakening was an extraordinary 
 thing, and sufficient to gie Mr. Dishart a name. But Mr. 
 Carfrae was baffled wi' Rob, too." 
 
 "Jeames, if you had been in our kirk that day Mr. Dis- 
 hart i)reached for't you would be wearying the now for 
 Sabbath, to be back in't again. As you ken. that wicked man 
 there, Jo Cruickshanks, got Rob Dow, drucken, cursing-, poach-
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 15 
 
 ing Rob Dow, to come to the kirk to annoy the minister. 
 Ay, he hadna been at that work for ten minutes when Mr. 
 Dishart stopped in his first prayer and ga'e Rob a look. I 
 couldna see the look, being in the precentor's box, but as 
 sure as death I felt it boring through me. Rob is hard 
 wood, though, and soon he was at his tricks again. Weel, 
 the minister stopped a second time in the sermon, and so 
 awful was the silence that a heap o' the congregation couldna 
 keep their seats. I heard Rob breathing quick and strong. 
 Mr. Dishart had his arm pointed at him a' this time, and at 
 last he says, sternly 'Come forward.' Listen, Joseph Cruick- 
 shanks, and tremble. Rob gripped the board to keep himsel' 
 frae obeying, and again Mr. Dishart says, 'Come forward,' 
 and syne Rob rose, shaking, and tottered to the pulpit stair 
 like a man suddenly shot into the Day of Judgment. 'You 
 hulking man of sin,' cries Mr. Dishart, not a tick fleid, though 
 Rob's as big as three o' him, 'sit down on the stair and attend 
 to me, or I'll step doun frae the pulpit and run you out of the 
 house of God.' " 
 
 "And since that day," said Hobart, "Rob has worshipped 
 Mr. Dishart as a man that has stepped out o' the Bible. 
 When the carriage passed this day we was discussing the 
 minister, and Sam'l Dickie wasna sure but what Mr. Dishart 
 wore his hat rather far back on his head. You should have 
 seen Rob. 'My certie,' he roars, 'there's the shine frae 
 Heaven on that little minister's face, and them as says there's 
 no has me to f echt.' " 
 
 "Ay, weel," said the U. P., rising, "we'll see how Rob 
 wears — and how your minister wears, too. I wouldna like 
 to sit in a kirk whaur they daurna sing a paraphrase." 
 
 "The Psalms of David," retorted Whamond, "mount 
 straight to heaven, but your paraphrases sticks to the ceiling 
 o' the kirk." 
 
 "You're a bigoted set, Tammas Whamond, but I tell you 
 this, and it's my last words to you the nicht, the day'll 
 come when you'll hae Mr. Duthie, ay, and even the U. P. 
 minister, preaching in the Auld Licht kirk." 
 
 "And let this be my last words to you," replied the pre- 
 centor, furiously; "that rather than see a U. P. preaching in 
 the Auld Licht kirk I would burn in hell fire for ever !" 
 
 This gossip increased Gavin's knowledge of the grim men 
 with whom he had now to deal. But as he sat beside Mar- 
 garet after she had gone to bed. their talk was pleasant. 
 
 "You remember, mother," Gavin said, "how I almos
 
 16 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 prayed for the manse that was to give you an egg every 
 morning. I have been telling Jean never to forget the egg." 
 
 "Ah, Gavin, things have come about so much as we wanted 
 that I'm a kind o' troubled. It's hardly natural, and I hope 
 nothing terrible is to happen now." 
 
 Gavin arranged her pillows as she liked them, and when he 
 next stole into the room in his stocking soles to look at her, 
 he thought she was asleep. But she was not. I dare say 
 she saw at that moment Gavin in his first frock, and Gavin 
 in knickerbockers, and Gavin as he used to walk into the 
 Glasgow room from college, all still as real to her as the 
 Gavin who had a kirk. 
 
 The little minister took away the lamp to his own room, 
 shaking his fist at himself for allowing his mother's door to 
 creak. He pulled up his blind. The town lay as still as 
 salt. But a steady light showed in the south, and on press- 
 ing his face against the window he saw another in the west. 
 Mr. Carfrae's words about the night-watch came back to him. 
 Perhaps it had been on such a silent night as this that the 
 soldiers marched into Thrums. Would they come again? 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FIRST COMING OF THE EGYPTIAN WOMAN. 
 
 A LEARNED man says in a book, otherwise beautiful with 
 truth, that villages are family groups. To him Thrums would 
 only be a village, though town is the word we have ever 
 used, and this is not true of it. 
 
 In eight days Gavin's figure was more familiar in Thrums 
 than many that had grown bent in it. He had already 
 been twice to the cemetery, for a minister only reaches his 
 new charge in time to attend a funeral. Though short of 
 stature he cast a great shadow. He was so full of his 
 duties, Jean said, that though he pulled to the door as he 
 left the manse, he had passed the currant-bushes before it 
 snecked. He darted through courts, and invented ways 
 into awkward houses. If you did not look up quickly he 
 was round the corner. His visiting exhausted him only 
 less than his zeal in the pulpit, from which, according to 
 report, he staggered damp with perspiration to the vestry, 
 where Hendry Munn wrung him like a wet cloth. A deaf
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 17 
 
 lady, celebrated for giving out her washing, compelled him 
 to hold her trumpet until she had peered into all his crannies, 
 with the Shorter Catechism for a lantern. Janet Dundas told 
 him, in answer to his knock, that she could not abide him, but 
 she changed her mind when he said her garden was quite 
 a show. The wives who expected a visit scrubbed their 
 floois for him, cleaned out their presses for him, put diamond 
 socks on their bairns for him, rubbed their hearthstones 
 blue for him, and even tidied up the garret for him, and 
 triumphed over the neighbours whose houses he passed by. 
 For Gavin blundered occasionally by inadvertence, as when 
 he gave dear old Betty Davie occasion to say bitterly : 
 
 "Ou ay, you can sail by my door and gang to Easie's, 
 but I'm thinking you would stop at mine, too, if I had a 
 brass handle on't." 
 
 So passed the first four weeks, and then came the fate- 
 ful night of the seventeenth of October, and with it the 
 strange woman. Family worship at the manse was over 
 and Gavin was talking to his mother, who never crossed the 
 threshold save to go to church (though her activity at home 
 was among the marvels, Jean sometimes slipped down to 
 the Tenements to announce) when Weary world the policeman 
 came to the door "with Rob Dow's compliments, and if 
 you're no wi' me by ten o'clock I'm to break out again." 
 Gavin knew what this meant, and at once set off for Rob's. 
 
 "You'll let me gang a bit wi' you," the policeman entreated, 
 "for till Rob sent me on this errand not a soul has spoken to 
 me the day; ay, mony a ane hae I spoken to, but not a man, 
 woman, nor bairn would fling me a word." 
 
 "I often meant to ask you," Gavin said as they went along 
 the Tenements, which smelled at that hour of roasted 
 potatoes, "why you are so unpopular." 
 
 "It's because I'm police. I'm the first ane that has ever 
 been in Thrums, and the very folk that appointed me at a 
 crown a week looks upon me as a disgraced man for ac- 
 cepting. It's Gospel that my ain wife is short wi' me when 
 I've on my uniform, though weel she kens that I would 
 rather hae stuck to the loom if I hadna ha'en sic a queer 
 richt leg. Nobody feels the shame o' my position as I do 
 mysel', but this is a town without pity." 
 
 "It should be a consolation to you that you are discharging 
 useful duties." 
 
 "But I'm no. I'm doing harm. There's Charles Dick- 
 son says that tlie very sicht o' my uniform rouses his dander
 
 18 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 so muckle that it makes him break windows, though a 
 peaceably-disposed man till I was appointed. And what's 
 the use o' their haeing a policeman when they winna come 
 to the lock-up after I lay hands on them?" 
 
 "Do they say they won't come?" 
 
 "Say? Catch them saying onything ! They just gie me 
 a wap into the gutters. If they would speak I wouldna 
 complain, for I'm nat'rally the sociablest man in Thrums." 
 
 "Rob. howev-er, had spoken to you." 
 
 "Because he had need o' me. That was aye Rob's way, 
 converted or no converted. When he was blind drunk he 
 would order me to see him safe hame, but would he crack 
 wi' me? Na, na." 
 
 Wearyworld, who was so called because of his forlorn 
 way of muttering, "It's a weary warld, and nobody bides 
 in't," as he went his melancholy rounds, sighed like one 
 about to cry, and Gavin changed the subject. 
 
 "Is the watch for the soldiers still kept up?" he asked. 
 
 "It is, but the watchers winna let me in aside them. 
 I'll let you see that for yoursel' at the head o' the Roods, 
 for they watch there in the auld windmill." 
 
 Most of the Thrums lights were already out, and that 
 in the windmill disappeared as footsteps were heard. 
 
 "You're desperate characters," the policeman cried, but 
 got no answer. He changed his tactics. 
 
 "A fine nicht for the time o' year," he cried. No answer. 
 
 "But I wouldna wonder," he shouted, "though we had 
 rain afore morning." No answer. 
 
 "Surely you could gie me a word frae ahint the door. 
 You're doing an onlawful thing, but I dinna ken wha you 
 are." 
 
 "You'll swear to that?" some one asked gruffly. 
 
 "I swear to it, Peter." 
 
 Wearyworld tried another six remarks in vain. 
 
 "Ay," he said to the minister, "that's what it is to be 
 an onpopular man. And now I'll hae to turn back, for the 
 very anes that winna let me join them would be the first 
 to complain if I gaed out o' bounds." 
 
 Gavin found Dow at New Zealand, a hamlet of mud 
 houses, whose tenants could be seen on any Sabbath morning 
 washing themselves in the burn that trickled hard by. Rob's 
 son, Micah, was asleep at the door, but he brightened when 
 he saw who was shaking him. 
 
 "My father put me out," he explained, "because he's
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 19 
 
 daft for the drink, and was fleid he would curse me. He 
 hasna cursed me," Micah added, proudly, "for an aucht 
 days come Sahhath. Hearken to him at his loom. He 
 daurna take his feet off the treadles for fear o' running 
 straucht to the drink." 
 
 Gavin went in. The loom, and two stools, the one four- 
 footed and the other a buffet, were Rob's most conspicuous 
 furniture. A shaving-strap hung on the wall. The fire 
 was out, but the trunk of a tree, charred at one end, showed 
 how he heated his house. He made a fire of peat, and 
 on it placed one end of a tree trunk that might be six 
 feet long. As the tree burned away it was pushed farther 
 into the fireplace, and a roaring fire could always be got 
 by kicking pieces of the smouldering wood and blowing them 
 into flame with the bellows. When Rob saw the minister 
 he groaned relief and left his loom. He had been weaving, 
 his teeth clenched, his eyes on fire, for seven hours. 
 
 "I wasna fleid," little Micah said to the neighbours after- 
 wards, "to gang in wi' the minister. He's a fine man that. 
 He didna ca' my father names. Na, he said, 'You're a brave 
 fellow, Rob,' and he took my father's hand, he did. My 
 father was shaking after his fecht wi' the drink, and, 
 says he, 'Mr. Dishart,' he says, 'if you'll let me break out 
 nows and nans, I could bide straucht atween times, but I 
 canna keep sober if I hinna a drink to look forrit to.' Ay, 
 my father prigged sair to get one fou day in the month, 
 and he said, 'Syne if I die sudden, there's thirty chances 
 to one that I gang to heaven, so it's worth risking.' But 
 Mr. Dishart wouldna hear o't, and he cries, 'No, by God,' 
 he cries, 'we'll wrestle wi' the devil till we throttle him,' 
 and down him and my father gaed on their knees. 
 
 "The minister prayed a lang time till my father said his 
 hunger for the drink was gone, 'but,' he says, 'it swells up 
 in me o' a sudden aye, and it may be back afore you're 
 hame.' 'Then come to me at once,' says Mr. Dishart; but 
 my father says, 'Na, for it would haul me into the public- 
 house as if it had me at the end o' a rope, but I'll send 
 the laddie.' 
 
 "You saw my father crying the minister back? It was 
 to gie him twa pound, and, says my father, 'God helping 
 me,' he says, 'I'll droon mysel' in the dam rather than 
 let the drink master me, but in case it should get baud o' 
 me and I should die drunk, it would be a michty gratifica- 
 tion to me to ken that you had the siller to bury me re-
 
 20 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 spectable without ony help frae the poor's rates.* The 
 minister wasna for taking it at first, but he took it when 
 he saw how earnest my father was. Ay, he's a noble 
 man. After he gaed awa my father made me learn the 
 names o' the apostles frae Luke sixth, and he says to 
 me, 'Miss out Bartholomew/ he says, 'for he did little, and 
 put Gavin Dishart in his place.' " 
 
 Feeling as old as he sometimes tried to look, Gavin turned 
 homeward. Margaret was already listening for him. You 
 may be sure she knew his step. I think our steps vary 
 as much as the human face. My bookshelves were made by 
 a blind man who could identify by their steps nearly all 
 who passed his window. Yet he has admitted to me that 
 he could not tell wherein my steps differ from others ; and 
 this I believe, though rejecting his boast that he could dis- 
 tinguish a minister's step from a doctor's, and even tell 
 to which denomination the minister belonged. 
 
 I have sometimes asked myself what would have been 
 Gavin's future had he gone straight home that night from 
 Dow's. He would doubtless have seen the Egyptian be- 
 fore morning broke, but she would not have come upon 
 him like a witch. There are, I dare say, many lovers who 
 would never have been drawn to each other had they met 
 for the first time, as, say, they met the second time. But 
 such dreaming is to no purpose. Gavin met Sanders Web- 
 ster, the mole-catcher, and was persuaded by him to go home 
 by Caddam Wood. 
 
 Gavin took the path to Caddam, because Sanders told 
 him the Wild Lindsays were there, a gypsy family that 
 threatened the farmers by day and danced devilishly, it 
 was said, at night. The little minister knew them by re- 
 pute as a race of giants, and that not rnany persons would 
 have cared to face them alone at midnight ; but he was 
 feeling as one wound up to heavy duties, and meant to 
 admonish them severely. 
 
 Sanders, an old man who lived with his sister Nanny 
 on the edge of the wood, went with him, and for a time 
 both were silent. But Sanders had something to say. 
 
 "Was you ever at the Spittal, Mr. Dishart?" he asked. 
 
 "Lord Rintoul's house at the top of Glen Quharity? No." 
 
 "Hae you ever looked on a lord?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Or on an auld lord's young leddyship? I have." 
 
 "What is she?"
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 21 
 
 "You surely ken that Rintoul's auld, and is to be married 
 on a young leddyship. She's no' a leddyship yet, but they're 
 to be married soon, so I may say I've seen a leddyship. 
 Ay, an impressive sicht. It was yestreen." 
 
 "Is there a great difference in their ages?" 
 
 "As muckle as atween auld Peter Spens and his wife, 
 wha was saxteen when he was saxty, and she was playing 
 at dumps in the street when her man was waiting for 
 her to make his porridge. Ay, sic a differ doesna suit 
 wi' common folk, but of course earls can please themsels. 
 Rintoul's so fond o' the leddyship 'at is to be, that when she 
 was at the school in Edinbury he wrote to her ilka day. 
 Kaytherine Crummie telled me that, and she says aince you're 
 used to it, writing letters is as easy as skinning moles. 
 I dinna ken what they can write sic a heap about, but I 
 daur say he gies her his views on the Chartist agitation 
 and the potato disease, and she'll write back about the 
 romantic sichts o' Edinbury and the sermons ^o' the grand 
 preachers she hears. Sal, though, thae grand folk has no 
 religion to speak o', for they're a' English kirk. You're 
 no' speiring what her leddyship said to me ?" 
 
 "What did she say?" 
 
 "Weel, you see, there was a dancing ball on, and Kaytherine 
 Crummie took me to a window whaur I could stand on a 
 flower-pot and watch the critturs whirling round in the 
 ball like teetotums. What's mair, she pointed out the leddy- 
 ship that's to be to me, and I just glowered at her, for 
 thinks I, 'Take your fill, Sanders, and whaur there's lords 
 and leddyships, dinna waste a minute on colonels and hon- 
 ourable misses and sic like dirt.' Ay, but what wi' my 
 een blinking at the blaze o' candles, I lost sicht o' her till 
 all at aince somebody says at my lug, 'Well, my man, and 
 who is the prettiest lady in the room?' Mr. Dishart, it 
 was her leddyship. She looked like a star." 
 
 "And what did you do?" 
 
 "The first thing I did was to fall aft' the flower-pot; but 
 syne I came to, and says I, wi' a polite smirk, 'I'm think- 
 ing, your leddyship,' says I, 'as vou're the bonniest your- 
 self.' " 
 
 "I see you are a cute man, Sanders." 
 
 "Ay, but that's no' a'. She lauched in a pleased way and 
 tapped me wi' her fan, and says she. 'Why do you think 
 me the prettiest?' I dinna deny but what that staggered me, 
 but I thocht a minute, and took a look at the other dancers
 
 22 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 again, and syne I says, michty sly like, 'The other leddies,' 
 I says, 'has sic snia' feet.' " 
 
 Sanders stopped here and looked doubtingly at Gavin. 
 
 "I canna make up my mind," he said, "whether she liked 
 that, for she rapped my knuckles wi' her fan fell sair, and 
 aff she gaed. Ay, I consulted Tammas Haggart about it, 
 and he says, 'The flirty crittur,' he says. What would you 
 say, Mr. Dishart?" 
 
 Gavin managed to escape without giving an answer, for 
 here their roads separated. He did not find the Wild Lind- 
 says, however. Children of whim, of prodigious strength 
 while in the open, but destined to wither quickly in the hot 
 air of towns, they had gone from Caddam, leaving nothing 
 of themselves behind but a black mark burned by their 
 fires into the ground. Thus they branded the earth through 
 many counties until some hour when the spirit of wandering 
 again fell on them, and they forsook their hearths with as 
 little compunction as the bird leaves its nest. 
 
 Gavin had walked quickly, and he now stood silently in 
 the wood, his hat in his hand. In the moonlight the grass 
 seemed tipped with hoar frost. Most of the beeches were 
 already bare, but the shoots, clustering round them, like 
 children at their mother's skirts, still retained their leaves 
 red and brown. Among the pines these leaves were as 
 incongruous as a wedding-dress at a funeral. Gavin was 
 standing on grass, but there were patches of heather within 
 sight, and broom, and the leaf of the blaeberry. W"here 
 the beeches had drawn up the earth with them as they grew, 
 their roots ran this way and that, slippery to the feet and 
 looking like disinterred bones. A squirrel appeared suddenly 
 on the charred ground, looked doubtfully at Gavin to see 
 if he was growing there, and then glided up a tree, where 
 it sat eyeing him, and forgetting to conceal its shadow. 
 Caddam was very still. At long intervals came from far 
 away the whack of an axe on wood. Gavin was in a 
 world by himself, and this might be some one breaking 
 into it. 
 
 The mystery of wood,, by moonlight thrilled the little 
 minister. His eyes rested on the shining roots, and he re- 
 membered what had been told him of the legend of Caddam, 
 how once on a time it was a mighty wood, and a maiden 
 most beautiful stood on its confines, panting and afraid, for 
 a wicked man pursued her; how he drew near, and she 
 ran a little way into the wood, and he followed her, anC
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 23 
 
 she still ran, and still he followed, until both were for ever 
 lost, and the bones of her pursuer lie beneath a beech, but 
 the lady may still be heard singing in the woods if the 
 night be fine, for then she is a glad spirit, but weeping 
 when there is wild wind, for then she is but a mortal seek- 
 ing a way out of the wood. 
 
 The squirrel slid down the fir and was gone. The axe's 
 blows ceased. Nothing that moved was in sight. The wind 
 that has its nest in trees was circling round with many 
 voices, that never rose above a whisper, and were often 
 but the echo of a sigh. 
 
 Gavin was in the Caddam of past days, where the beauti- 
 ful maiden wanders ever, waiting for him who is so pure 
 that he may find her. He will wander over the tree-tops 
 looking for her, with the moon for his lamp, and some 
 night he will hear her singing. The little minister drew a 
 deep breath, and his foot snapped a brittle twig. Then he 
 remembered who and where he was, and stooped to pick 
 up his stafif. But he did not pick it up, for as his fingers 
 were closing on it the lady began to sing. 
 
 For perhaps a minute Gavin stood stock-still, like an in- 
 truder. Then he ran towards the singing, which seemed 
 to come from Windyghoul, a straight road through Caddam 
 that farmers use in summer, but leave in the back end of 
 the year to leaves and pools. In Windyghoul there is 
 either no wind or so much that it rushes down the sieve 
 like an army, entering with a shriek of terror, and escaping 
 with a derisive howl. The moon was crossing the avenue. 
 But Gavin only saw the singer. 
 
 She was still fifty yards away, sometimes singing glee- 
 fully, and again letting her body sway lightly as she came 
 dancing up Windyghoul. Soon she was within a few feet 
 of the little minister, to whom singing, except when out 
 of tune, was a suspicious thing, and dancing a device of the 
 devil. His arm went out wrathfully, and his intention was 
 to pronounce sentence on this woman. 
 
 But she passed, unconscious of his presence, and he had 
 not moved nor spoken. Though really of the average height, 
 she was a little thing to the eyes of Gavin, who always 
 felt tall and stout except when he looked down. The grace 
 of her swaying figure was a new thing in the world to him. 
 Only while she passed did he see her as a gleam of colour, 
 a gypsy elf poorly clad, her bare feet flashing beneath a 
 short green skirt, a twig of rowan berrips stuck carelessly
 
 24 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 into her black hair. Her face was pale. She had an angel's 
 loveliness. Gavin shook. 
 
 Still she danced onwards, but she was very human, for 
 when she came to muddy water she let her feet linger in it, 
 and flung up her arms, dancing more wantonly than be- 
 fore. A diamond on her finger shot a thread of fire over 
 the pool. Undoubtedly she was the devil. 
 
 Gavin leaped into the avenue, and she heard him and 
 looked behind. He tried to cry "Woman !" sternly but 
 lost the word, for now she saw him, and laughed with 
 her shoulders, and beckoned to him, so that he shook his 
 fist at her. She tripped on, but often turning her head 
 beckoned and mocked him, and he forgot his dignity and 
 his pulpit and all other things, and ran after her. Up 
 Windyghoul did he pursue her, and it was well that the 
 precentor was not there to see. She reached the mouth of 
 the avenue, and, kissing her hand to Gavin, so that the ring 
 gleamed again, was gone. 
 
 The minister's one thought was to find her, but he searched 
 in vain. She might be crossing the hill on her way to 
 Thrums, or perhaps she was still laughing at him from 
 behind a tree. After a longer time than he was aware of, 
 Gavin realised that his boots were chirping and his trousers 
 streaked with mud. Then he abandoned the search and has- 
 tened homewards in a rage. 
 
 From the hill to the manse the nearest way is down two 
 fields, and the little minister descended them rapidly. Thrums, 
 which is red in daylight, was gray and still as the cemetery. 
 He had glimpses of several of its deserted streets. To the 
 south the watch-light showed brightly, but no other waS 
 visible. So it seemed to Gavin, and then — suddenly — he lost 
 the power to move. He had heard the horn. Thrice it 
 sounded, and thrice it struck him to the heart. He looked 
 again and saw a shadow stealing along the Tenements, then 
 another, then half a dozen. He remembered Mr. Carfrae's 
 words, "If you ever hear that horn, I implore you to hasten 
 to the square," and in another minute he had reached the 
 Tenements. 
 
 Now again he saw the gypsy. She ran past him, half a 
 score of men, armed with staves and pikes, at her heels. 
 At first he thought they were chasing her, but they were 
 following her as a leader. Her eyes sparkled as she waved 
 them to the square with her arms. 
 
 "The soldiers, the soldiers!" was the universal cry.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 25 
 
 "Who is that woman?" demanded Gavin, catching hold 
 of a frightened old man. 
 
 "Curse the Egyptian limmer," the man answered, "she's 
 egging my laddie on to fecht." 
 
 "Bless her rather," the son cried, "for warning us that 
 the sojers is coming. Put your ear to the ground, Mr. 
 Dishart, and you'll hear the dirl o' their feet." 
 
 The young man rushed away to the square, flinging his 
 father from him. Gavin followed. As he turned into 
 the school wynd, the town drum began to beat, windows 
 were thrown open, and sullen men ran out of closes where 
 women were screaming and trying to hold them back. At 
 the foot of the wynd Gavin passed Sanders Webster. 
 
 "Mr. Dishart," the mole-catcher cried, "hae you seen that 
 Egyptian? May I be struck dead if it's no' her little leddy- 
 ship." 
 
 But Gavin did not hear him. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 a warlike chapter, culminating in the flouting of the 
 minister by the woman. 
 
 "Mr. Dishart!" 
 
 Jean had clutched at Gavin in Bank Street. Her hair 
 was streaming, and her wrapper but half buttoned. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Dishart, look at the mistress ! I couldna keep 
 her in the manse." 
 
 Gavin saw his mother beside him, bareheaded, trembling. 
 
 "How could I sit still, Gavin, and the town full o' the 
 skirls of women and bairns? Oh, Gavin, what can I do 
 for them? They will suffer most this night." 
 
 As Gavin took her hand he knew that Margaret felt for 
 the people more than he. 
 
 "But you must go home, mother," he said, "and leave 
 me to do my duty. I will take you myself if you will not 
 go with Jean. Be careful of her, Jean." 
 
 "Ay, will I," Jean answered, then burst into tears. "Mr. 
 Dishart," she cried, "if they take my father they'd best take 
 my mither, too." 
 
 The two women went back to the manse, where Jean 
 re-lit the fire, having nothing else to do, and boiled the
 
 26 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 kettle, while Margaret wandered in anguish from room to 
 room. 
 
 Men nearly naked ran past Gavin, seeking to escape from 
 Thrums by the fields he had descended. VVhen he shouted 
 to them they only ran faster. A Tillyloss weaver whom he 
 tried to stop struck him savagely and sped past to the square. 
 In Bank Street, which was full of people at one moment 
 and empty the next, the minister stumbled over old Charles 
 Yuill. 
 
 "Take me and welcome," Yuill cried, mistaking Gavin 
 for the enemy. He had only one arm through the sleeve of 
 his jacket, and his feet were bare. 
 
 "I am Mr. Dishart. Are the soldiers already in the square, 
 Yuill?" 
 
 "They'll be there in a minute." 
 
 The man was so weak that Gavin had to hold him. 
 
 "Be a man, Charles. You have nothing to fear. It is 
 not such as you the soldiers have come for. If need be, 
 I can swear that you had not the strength, even if you had 
 the will, to join in the weavers' riot." 
 
 "For Godsake, Mr. Dishart," Yuill cried, his hands 
 chattering on Gavin's coat, "dinna swear that. My laddie 
 was in the thick o' the riot; and if he's ta'en there's the 
 poor's-house gaping for Kitty and me, for I couldna weave 
 half a web a week. If there's a warrant agin onybody o' 
 the name of Yuill, swear it's me; swear I'm a desperate 
 character, swear I'm michty strong for all I look palsied; 
 and if when they take me, my courage breaks down, swear 
 the mair, swear I confessed my guilt to you on the Book." 
 
 As Yuill spoke the quick rub-a-dub of a drum was heard. 
 
 "The soldiers!" Gavin let go his hold of the old man, 
 who hastened away to give himself up. 
 
 "That's no the sojers," said a woman ; "it's the folk gather- 
 ing in the square. This'll be a watery Sabbath in Thrums." 
 
 "Rob Dow," shouted Gavin, as Dow flung past with a 
 scythe in his hand, "lay down that scythe." 
 
 "To hell wi' religion!" Rob retorted, fiercely; "it spoils a' 
 thing." 
 
 "Lay down that scythe ; I command you." 
 
 Rob stopped undecidedly, then cast the scythe from him, 
 but its rattle on the stones was more than he could bear. 
 
 "I winna," he cried, and, picking it up, ran to the square. 
 
 An upper window in Bank Street opened, and Doctor 
 McQueen put out his head. He was smoking as usual.
 
 THE LITTLE IMINISTER 27 
 
 "Mr. Dishart," he said, "you will return home at once 
 if you are a wise man ; or, better still, come in here. You 
 can do nothing with these people to-night." 
 
 "I can stop their fighting." 
 
 "You will only make black blood between them and 
 you." 
 
 "Dinna heed him, Mr. Dishart," cried some women. 
 
 "You had better heed him," cried a man. 
 
 "I will not desert my people," Gavin said. 
 
 "Listen, then, to my prescription," the doctor replied. 
 "Drive that gypsy lassie out of the town before the soldiers 
 reach it. She is firing the men to a red heat through sheer 
 devilry." 
 
 "She brocht the news, or we would have been nipped in 
 our beds," some people cried. 
 
 "Does any one know who she is ?" Gavin demanded, but 
 all shook their heads. The Egyptian, as they called her, 
 had never been seen in these parts before. 
 
 "Has any other person seen the soldiers?" he asked. "Per- 
 haps this is a false alarm." 
 
 "Several have seen them within the last few minutes," 
 the doctor answered. "They came from Tilliedrum, and 
 were advancing on us from the south, but when they heard 
 that we had got the alarm they stopped at the top of the 
 brae, near T'nowhead's farm. Man, you would take these 
 things more coolly if you smoked." 
 
 "Show me this woman," Gavin said, sternly, to those who 
 had been listening. Then a stream of people carried him 
 into the square. 
 
 To Gavin, who never before had seen a score of people 
 in the square at once, here was a sight strange and ter- 
 rible. Andrew Struthers, an old soldier, stood on the out- 
 side stair of the town-house, shouting words of command 
 to some fifty weavers, many of them scantily clad, but all 
 armed with pikes and poles. Most were known to the little 
 minister, but they wore faces that were new to him. New- 
 comers joined the body every moment. If the drill was 
 clumsy the men were fierce. Hundreds of people gathered 
 round, some screaming, some shaking their fists at the old 
 soldier, many trying to pluck their relatives out of danger. 
 Gavin could not see the Egyptian. Women and old men, 
 fighting for the possession of his ear, implored him to dis- 
 perse the armed band. He ran up the town-house stair, 
 and in a moment it had become a pulpit.
 
 28 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "Dinna dare to interfere, Mr. Dishart," Struthers said, 
 savagely. 
 
 "Andrew Struthers," said Gavin, solemnly, "in the name 
 of God I order you to leave me alone. If you don't," he 
 added, ferociously, 'Til fling you over the stair." 
 
 "Dinna heed him, Andrew," some one shouted, and an- 
 other cried, "He canna understand our sufferings; he has 
 dinner ilka day." 
 
 Struthers faltered, however, and Gavin cast his eye over 
 the armed men. 
 
 "Rob Dow," he said, "William Carmichael, Thomas 
 Whamond, William Munn, Alexander Hobart, Renders Hag- 
 gart, step forward." 
 
 These were Auld Lichts, and when they found that the 
 minister would not take his eyes off them, they obeyed, all 
 save Rob Dow. 
 
 "Never mind him, Rob," said the atheist, Cruickshanks, 
 "it's better playing cards in hell than singing psalms in 
 heaven." 
 
 "Joseph Cruickshanks," responded Gavin, grimly, "you will 
 find no cards down there." 
 
 Then Rob also came to the foot of the stair. There was 
 some angry muttering from the crowd, and young Charles 
 Yuill exclaimed, "Curse you, would you lord it ower us 
 on week-days as weel as on Sabbaths ?" 
 
 "Lay down your weapons," Gavin said to the six men. 
 
 They looked at each other. Hobart slipped his pike be- 
 hind his back. 
 
 "I hae no weapon," he said, slily. 
 
 "Let me hae my fling this nicht," Dow entreated, "and 
 I'll promise to bide sober for a twelvemonth." 
 
 "Oh, Rob, Rob!" the minister said, bitterly, "are you 
 the man I prayed with a few hours ago?" 
 
 The scythe fell from Rob's hands. 
 
 "Down wi' your pikes," he roared to his companions, "or 
 I'll brain you wi' them." 
 
 "Ay, lay them down," the precentor whispered, "but keeg 
 your feet on them." 
 
 Then the minister, who was shaking with excitement, 
 though he did not know it, stretched forth his arms iot 
 silence, and it came so suddenly as to frighten the people 
 in the neighbouring streets." 
 
 "If he prays we're done for," cried young Charles Yuill, 
 but even in that hour many of the people were unbonneted.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 29 
 
 "Oh, Thou who art the Lord of Hosts," Gavin prayed, 
 "we are in Thy hands this night. These are Thy people, 
 and they have sinned; but Thou art a merciful God, and 
 they were sore tried, and knew not what they did. To 
 Thee, our God, we turn for deliverance, for without Thee 
 we are lost." 
 
 The little minister's prayer was heard all round the square, 
 and many weapons were dropped as an Amen to it. 
 
 "If you fight," cried Gavin, brightening as he heard the 
 clatter of the iron on the stones, "your wives and children 
 may be shot in the streets. These soldiers have come for a 
 dozen of you ; will you be benefited if they take away a 
 hundred?" 
 
 "Oh, hearken to him," cried many women. 
 
 "I winna," answered a man, "for I'm ane o' the dozen. 
 Whaur's the Egyptian?" 
 
 "Here." 
 
 Gavin saw the crowd open, and the woman of Windyghoul 
 come out of it, and, while he should have denounced her. 
 Tie only blinked, for once more her loveliness struck him 
 full in the eyes. She was beside him on the stair before he 
 became a minister again. 
 
 "How dare you, woman?" he cried; but she flung a rowan 
 berry at him. 
 
 "If I were a man," she exclaimed, addressing the people, 
 "I wouldna let myself be catched like a mouse in a trap." 
 
 "We winna," some answered. 
 
 "What kind o' women are you," cried the Egyptian, her 
 face gleaming as she turned to her own sex, "that bid your 
 men-folk gang to gaol when a bold front would lead them 
 to safety ? Do you want to be husbandless and hameless ?" 
 
 "Disperse, I command you !" cried Gavin. "This aban- 
 doned woman is inciting you to riot." 
 
 "Dinna heed this little man," the Egyptian retorted. 
 
 It is curious to know that even at that anxious moment 
 Gavin winced because she called him little. 
 
 "She has the face of a mischief-maker," he shouted, "and 
 her words are evil." 
 
 "You men and women o' Thrums," she responded, "ken 
 that I wish you weel by the service I hae done you this 
 nicht. Wha telled you the sojers was coming?" 
 
 "It was you ; it was you !" 
 
 "Ay, and mony a mile I ran to bring the news. Listen, 
 and I'll tell you mair."
 
 30 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "She has a false tongue," Gavin cried; "listen not to the 
 brazen woman." 
 
 "What I have to tell," she said, "is as true as what I've 
 telled already, and how true that is you a' ken. You're 
 wondering how the sojers has come to a stop at the tap o' 
 the brae instead o' marching on the town. Here's the reason. 
 They agreed to march straucht to the square if the alarm 
 wasna given, but if it was they were to break into small 
 bodies and surround the town so that you couldna get out. 
 That's what they're doing now." 
 
 At this the screams were redoubled, and many men lifted 
 the weapons they had dropped. 
 
 "Believe her not," cried Gavin. "How could a wandering 
 gypsy know all this?" 
 
 "Ay, how can you ken?" some demanded. 
 
 "It's enough that I do ken," the Egyptian answered. "And 
 this mair I ken, that the captain of the soldiers is confident 
 he'll nab every one o' you that's wanted unless you do one 
 thing." 
 
 "What is 't?" 
 
 "If you a' run diflferent ways you're lost, but if you keep 
 thegither you'll be able to force a road into the country 
 whaur you can scatter. That's what he's fleid you'll do." 
 
 "Then it's what we will do." 
 
 "It is what you will not do," Gavin said, passionately. 
 "The truth is not in this wicked woman." 
 
 But scarcely had he spoken when he knew that startling 
 news had reached the square. A murm.ur arose on the skirts 
 of the mob, and swept with the roar of the sea towards 
 the town-house. A detachment of the soldiers were march- 
 ing down the Roods from the north. 
 
 "There's some coming frae the east-town end," was the 
 next intelligence; "and they've gripped Sanders Webster, and 
 auld Charles Yuill has given himsel' up." 
 
 "You see, you see," the gypsy said, flashing triumph at 
 Gavin. 
 
 "Lay down your weapons," Gavin cried, but his power over 
 the people had gone. 
 
 "The Egyptian spoke true," they shouted; "dinna heed 
 the minister." 
 
 Gavin tried to seize the gypsy by the shoulders, but 
 she slipped past him down the stair, and crying "Follow 
 me !" ran round the town-house and down the brae. 
 
 "Woman!" he shouted after her, but she only waved her
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 31 
 
 arms scornfully. The people followed her, many of the 
 men still grasping their weapons, but all in disorder. Within 
 a minute after Gavin saw the gleam of the ring on her 
 finger, as she waved her hands, he and Dow were alone 
 in the square. 
 
 "She's an awfu' woman that," Rob said. "I saw her 
 lauching." 
 
 Gavin ground his teeth. 
 
 "Rob Dow," he said, slowly, "if I had not found Christ 
 I would have throttled that woman. You saw how she 
 flouted me?" 
 
 CHAPTER VI, 
 
 IN WHICH THE SOLDIERS MEET THE AMAZONS OF THRUMS. 
 
 Dow looked shamefacedly at the minister, and then set off 
 up the square. 
 
 "Where are you going, Rob?" 
 
 "To gie myself up. I maun do something to let you see 
 there's one man in Thrums that has mair faith in you than 
 in a fliskmahoy." 
 
 "And only one, Rob. But I don't know that they want 
 to arrest you." 
 
 "Ay, I had a hand in tying the polissman to the — " 
 
 "I want to hear nothing about that," Gavin said, quickly. 
 
 "Will I hide, then?" 
 
 "I dare not advise you to do that. It would be wrong." 
 
 Half a score of fugitives tore past the town-house, and 
 were out of sight without a cry. There was a tread of 
 heavier feet, and a dozen soldiers, with several policemen 
 and two prisoners, appeared suddenly on the north side of 
 the square. 
 
 "Rob," cried the minister in desperation, "run !" 
 
 When the soldiers reached the town-house, where they 
 locked up their prisoners, Dow was skulking eastward, 
 and Gavin running down the brae. 
 
 "They're fechting," he was told, "they're fechting on 
 the brae, the sojers is firing, a man's killed!" 
 
 But this was an exaggeration. 
 
 The brae, though short, is very steep. There is a hedge 
 on one side of it, from which the land falls away, and on 
 the other side a hillock. Gavin reached the scene to
 
 32 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 see the soldiers marching down the brae, guarding a small 
 body of policemen. The armed weavers were retreating 
 before them. A hundred women or more were on the 
 hillock, shrieking and gesticulating. Gavin joined them, 
 calling on them not to fling the stones they had begun to 
 gather. 
 
 The armed men broke into a rabble, flung down their 
 weapons, and fled back towards the town-house. Here they 
 almost ran against the soldiers in the square, who again 
 forced them into the brae. Finding themselves about to be 
 wedged between the two forces, some crawled through the 
 hedge, where they were instantly seized by policemen. Others 
 sought to climb up the hillock and then escape into the 
 country. The policemen clambered after them. The men 
 were too frightened to fight, but a woman seized a police- 
 man by the waist and flung him head foremost among the 
 soldiers. One of these shouted "Fire !" but the captain 
 cried "No." Then came showers of missiles from the women. 
 They stood their ground and defended the retreat of the 
 scared men. 
 
 Who flung the first .stone is not known, but it is believed 
 to have been the Egyptian. The policemen were recalled, 
 and the whole body ordered to advance down the brae. 
 Thus the weavers who had not escaped at once were driven 
 before them, and soon hemmed in between the two bodies 
 of .soldiers, when they were easily captured. But foi 
 two minutes there was a thick shower of stones and clods 
 of earth. 
 
 It was ever afterwards painful to Gavin to recall this 
 scene, but less on account of the shower of stones than 
 because of the flight of one divit in it. He had been watch- 
 ing the handsome young captain, Halliwell, riding with his 
 men; admirin.c, him, too, for his coolness. This coolness 
 exasperated the gypsy, who twice flung at Halliwell and 
 missed him. He rode on, smiling contemptuously. 
 
 "Oh, if I could only fling straight!" the Egyptian moaned. 
 
 Then she saw the minister by her side, and in the tick 
 of a clock something happened that can never be explained. 
 For the moment Gavin was so lost in misery over the prob- 
 able effect of the night's rioting that he had forgotten where 
 he was. Suddenly the Egyptian's beautiful face was close 
 to his, and she pressed a divit into his hand, at the same 
 time pointing at the officer, and whispering "Hit him." 
 
 Gavin flung the clod of earth, and hit Halliwell on the head.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 33 
 
 I 
 
 I say I cannot explain this. I tell what happened, and 
 add with thankfulness that only the Egyptian witnessed the 
 deed. Gavin, I suppose, had flung the divit before he 
 could stay his hand. Then he shrank in horror. 
 
 "Woman!" he cried again. 
 
 "You are a dear," she said, and vanished. 
 
 By the time Gavin was breathing freely again the lock-up 
 was crammed with prisoners, and the Riot Act had been 
 read from the town-house stair. It is still remembered that 
 the baron-tailie, to whom this duty fell, had got no further 
 than "Victoria, by the Grace of God," when the paper was 
 struck out of his hands. 
 
 While Gavin was with the families whose breadwinners 
 were now in the lock-up, a cell that was usually crammed 
 on fair nights and empty for the rest of the year, the sheriff 
 and Halliwell were in the round-room of the town-house, not 
 in a good temper. They spoke loudly, and some of their 
 words sank into the cell below. 
 
 "The whole thing has been a fiasco," the sheriff was 
 heard saying, "owing to our failing to take them by sur- 
 prise. Why, three- fourths of those taken will have to be 
 liberated, and we have let the worst offenders slip through 
 our hands." 
 
 "Well," answered Halliwell, who was wearing a hea\'y 
 cloak, "I have brought your policemen into the place, and 
 that is all I undertook to do." 
 
 "You brought them, but at the expense of alarming the 
 country-side. I wish we had come without you." 
 
 "Nonsense ! My men advanced like ghosts. Could your 
 police have come down that brae alone to-night?" 
 
 "Yes, because it would have been deserted. Your sol- 
 diers, I tell you, have done the mischief. This woman, who, 
 so many of our prisoners admit, brought the news of our 
 coming, must either have got it from one of your men or 
 have seen them on the march." 
 
 "The men did not know their destination. True, she 
 might have seen us despite our precautions, but you for- 
 get that she told them how we were to act in the event 
 of our being seen. That is what perplexes me." 
 
 "Yes, and me too, for it was a close secret between you 
 and me and Lord Rintoul and not half a dozen others." 
 
 "Well, find the woman, and we shall get the explanation. 
 If she is still in the town she cannot escape, for my men 
 are everywhere."
 
 34 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "She was seen ten minutes ago." 
 
 "Then she is ours. I say, Riach, if I were you I would 
 set all my prisoners free and take away a cartload of 
 their wives instead. I have only seen the backs of the 
 men of Thrums, but, on my word, I very nearly ran away 
 from the women. Hallo ! I believe one of your police has 
 caught our virago single-handed." 
 
 So Halliwell exclaimed, hearing some one shout, "This 
 is the rascal !" But it was not the Egyptian who was then 
 thrust into the round-room. It was John Dunwoodie, look- 
 ing very sly. Probably there was not, even in Thrums, a 
 cannier man than Dunwoodie. His religious views were 
 those of Cruickshanks, but he went regularly to church "on 
 the off-chance of their being a God after all ; so I'm safe, 
 whatever side may be wrong." 
 
 "This is the man," explained a policeman, "who brought 
 the alarm. He admits himself having been in Tilliedrum 
 just before we started." 
 
 "Your name, my man?" the sheriff demanded. 
 
 "It micht be John Dunwoodie," the tinsmith answerec^ 
 cautiously. 
 
 "But is it?" 
 
 "I dinna say it's no." 
 
 "You were in Tilliedrum this evening?" 
 
 "I micht hae been." 
 
 "Were you ?" 
 
 "I'll swear to nothing." 
 
 "Why not ?" 
 
 "Because I'm a canny man." 
 
 "Into the cell with him," Halliwell cried, losing patience. 
 
 "Leave him to me," said the sheriff. "I understand the 
 sort of man. Now, Dunwoodie, what were you doing in 
 Tilliedrum ?" 
 
 "I was taking my laddie down to be prenticed to a writer 
 there," answered Dunwoodie, falling into the sheriff's net. 
 
 "What are you yourself?" 
 
 "I micht be a tinsmith to trade." 
 
 "And you, a mere tinsnith, dare to tell me that a lawyer 
 was willing to take your son into his office? Be cautious, 
 Dunwoodie." 
 
 "Weel, then, the laddie's highly edicated and I hae siller, 
 and that's how the writer was to take him and make a 
 gentleman o' him." 
 
 "I learn from the neighbours." the noUceman explained.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 35 
 
 »■— ^■— ■"■^^^■^^^— — — ^^^^— ^— — ^— ^■— — — — i— ^»^—i »»»^^— 
 
 "that this is partly true, but what makes us suspect him 
 is this : He left the laddie at Tilliedrum, and yet when 
 he came home the first person he sees at the fireside is 
 the laddie himself. The laddie had run home, and the 
 reason plainly was that he had heard of our preparations 
 and wanted to alarm the town." 
 
 "There seems something in this, Dunwoodie," the sheriff 
 said, "and if you cannot explain it I must keep you in 
 custody." 
 
 "I'll make a clean breast o't/' Dunwoodie replied, seeing 
 that in this matter truth was best. "The laddie was ter- 
 rible against being made a gentleman, and when he saw 
 the kind o' life he would hae to lead, clean hands, clean 
 dickies, and no gutters on his breeks, his heart took mair 
 scunner at genteelity than ever, and he ran hame. Ay, 
 I was mad when I saw him at the fireside, but he says to 
 me, 'How would you like to be a gentleman yoursel', father?' 
 he says, and that so affected me 'at I'm to gie him his 
 ain way." 
 
 Another prisoner, Dave Langlands, was confronted with 
 Dunwoodie. 
 
 "John Dunwoodie's as innocent as I am mysel'," Dave 
 said, "and I'm most michty innocent. It wasna John but 
 the Egyptian that gave the alarm. I tell you what, sheriff, 
 if it'll make me innocenter-like I'll picture the Egyptian to 
 you just as I saw her, and syne you'll be able to catch 
 her easier." 
 
 "You are an honest fellow," said the sheriff. 
 
 "I only wish I had the whipping of him," growled Halli- 
 well, who was of a generous nature. 
 
 "For what business had she," continued Dave, righteously, 
 "to meddle in other folks' business? She's no a Thrums 
 lassie, and so I say, 'Let the law take its course on her." 
 
 "Will you listen to such a cur, Riach?" asked Halliwell. 
 
 "Certainly. Speak out, Langlands." 
 
 "Weel, then, I was in the windmill the nicht." 
 
 "You were a watcher?" 
 
 "I happened to be in the windmill wi' another man," 
 Dave went on, avoiding the officer's question. 
 
 "What was his name ?" demanded Halliwell. 
 
 "It was the Egyptian I was to tell you about," Dave said, 
 looking to the sheriff. 
 
 "Ah, yes, you only tell tales about women," said Halliwell. 
 
 "Strange women," corrected Dave. "Weel, we was there.
 
 36 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 and it would maybe be twal o'clock, and we was speaking 
 (but about lawful things) when we heard some ane running 
 yont the road. I keeked through a hole in the door, and 
 I saw it was an Egyptian lassie 'at I had never clapped 
 een on afore. She saw the licht in the window, and she 
 cried, 'Hie, you billies in the windmill, the sojers is coming!' 
 I fell ill a fricht, but the other man opened the door, and 
 again she cries, 'The sojers is coming; quick, or you'll be 
 ta'en.' At that the other man up wi' his bonnet and ran, 
 but I didna make off so smart." 
 
 "You had to pick yourself up first," suggested the officer. 
 
 "Sal, it was the lassie picked me up ; ay, and she picked 
 up a horn at the same time." 
 
 " 'Blaw on that,' she cried, 'and alarm the town.* But 
 sheriff, I didna do't. Na, I had ower muckle respect for 
 the law." 
 
 "In other words," said Halliwell, "you also bolted, and 
 left the gypsy to blow the horn herself." 
 
 "I dinna deny but what I made my feet my friend, but 
 it wasna her that blew the horn. I ken that, for I looked 
 back and saw her trying to do't, but she couldna, she didna 
 ken the way." 
 
 "Then who did blow it?" 
 
 "The first man she met, I suppose. We a' kent that the 
 horn was to be the signal except Wearywarld. He's police, 
 so we kept it frae him." 
 
 "That is all you saw of the woman?" 
 
 "Ay, for I ran straucht to my garret, and there your 
 men took me. Can I gae hame now, sheriff?" 
 
 "No, you cannot. Describe the woman's appearance." 
 
 "She had a heap o' rowan berries stuck in her hair, and, 
 I think, she had on a green wrapper and a red shawl. She 
 had a most extraordinary face. I canna exact describe it, 
 for she would be lauchin' one second and syne solemn the 
 next. I tell you her face changed as quick as you could 
 turn the pages o' a book. Ay, here comes Wearywarld to 
 speak up for me." 
 
 Wearyworld entered c'leerfully. 
 
 "This is the local policeman," a TilHedrum officer said; 
 "we have been searching for him everywhere, and only 
 found him now." 
 
 "Where have you been?" asked the sheriff, wrathfully. 
 
 "Whaur maist honest men is at this hour," replied Weary- 
 world; "in my bed."
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 37 
 
 f 
 
 "How dared you ignore your duty at such a time?" 
 
 "It's a long story," the policeman answered, pleasantly, in 
 anticipation of a talk at last. 
 
 "Answer me in a word." 
 
 "In a word !" cried the policeman, quite crestfallen. "It 
 canna be done. You'll need to cross-examine me, too. It's 
 my lawful richt." 
 
 "I'll take you to the Tilliedrum gaol for your share in 
 this night's work if you do not speak to the purpose. Why 
 did you not hasten to our assistance?" 
 
 "As sure as death I never kent you was here. I was 
 up the Roods on my rounds when I heard an awfu' din 
 down in the square, and thinks I, there's rough characters 
 about, and the place for honest folk is their bed. So to 
 my bed I gaed, and I was in't when your men gripped me." 
 
 "We must see into this before we leave. In the mean- 
 time you will act as a guide to my searchers. Stop ! Do 
 you know anything of this Egyptian?" 
 
 "What Egyptian? Is't a lassie wi' rowans in her hair?" 
 
 "The same. Have you seen her?" 
 
 "That I have. There's nothing agin her, is there ? What- 
 ever it is, I'll uphaud she didna do't, for a simpler, franker- 
 spoken crittur couldna be." 
 
 "Never mind what I want her for. When did you see 
 her?" 
 
 "It would be about twal o'clock," began Wearyworld, 
 unctuously, "when I was in the Roods, ay, no lang afore 
 I heard the disturbance in the square. I was standing in 
 the middle o' the road, wondering how the door o' the 
 windmill was swinging open, when she came up to me. 
 
 " 'A fine nicht for the time o' year,' I says to her, for 
 nobody but the minister had spoken to me a' day. 
 
 " 'A very fine nicht,' says she, very frank, though she 
 was breathing quick like as if she had been running. 'You'll 
 be police?' says she. 
 
 " 'I am,' says I, 'and wha be you ?* 
 
 " 'I'm just a puir gypsy lassie,' she says. 
 
 " 'And what's that in your hand ?' says I. 
 
 "'It's a horn I found in the wood,' says she, 'but it's 
 rusty and winna blaw.' 
 
 "I laughed at her ignorance, and says I, 'I warrant I 
 could blaw it.' 
 
 " 'I dinna believe you,' says she. 
 
 " 'Gie me havid o't,' says I, and she gae it to me. and
 
 38 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 I blew some bonny blasts on't. Ay, you see she didna ken 
 the way o't. 'Thank you kindly,' says she, and she ran 
 awa without even minding to take the horn back again." 
 
 "You incredible idiot!" cried the sheriff. "Then it was 
 you who gave the alarm?" 
 
 "What hae I done to madden you?" honest Wearyworld 
 asked, in perplexity. 
 
 "Get out of my sight, sir!" roared the sheriff. 
 
 But the captain laughed. 
 
 "I like your doughty policeman, Riach," he said. "Hie, 
 obliging friend, let us hear how this gypsy struck you 
 How was she dressed?" 
 
 "She was snod, but no unca snod," replied Wearyworld 
 stiffly. 
 
 "I don't understand you." 
 
 "I mean she was couthie, but no sair in order." 
 
 "What on earth is that?" 
 
 "Weel, a tasty stocky, but gey orra put on." 
 
 *'What language are you speaking, you enigma?" 
 
 "I'm saying she was naturally a bonny bit kimmer rather 
 than happit up to the nines." 
 
 "Oh, go away," cried Halliwell ; whereupon Wearyworld 
 descended the stair haughtily, declaring that the sheriff was 
 an unreasonable man, and that he was a queer captai» 
 who did not understand the English language. 
 
 "Can I gae hame now, sheriff?" asked Langlands, hope- 
 fully. 
 
 "Take this fellow back to his cell." Riach directed shortly, 
 "and whatever else you do, see that you capture this woman. 
 Halliwell, I am going out to look for her myself. Con- 
 found it, what are you laughing at?" 
 
 "At the way this vixen has slipped through your fingers." 
 
 "Not quite that, sir, not quite that. She is in Thrums 
 still, and I swear I'll have her before day breaks. See to 
 it, Halliwell, that if she is brought here in my absence 
 she does not slip through your fingers." 
 
 "If she is brought here," said Halliwell, mocking him, 
 "you must return and p.otect me. It would be cruelty to 
 leave a poor soldier in the hands of a woman of Thrums." 
 
 "She is not a Thrums woman. You have been told so 
 a» dozen times." 
 
 "Then I am not afraid." 
 
 In the round-room (which is oblong), there is a throne 
 on which the bailie sits when he dispenses justice. It is
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 39 
 
 swathed in red cloths that give it the appearance of a pulpit. 
 Left to himself, Halliwell flung off his cloak, and taking a 
 chair near this dais rested his legs on the bare wooden 
 table, one on each side of the lamp. He was still in this 
 position when the door opened, and two policemen thrust 
 the Egyptian into the room. 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 HAS THE FOLLY OF LOOKING INTO A WOMAN'S EYES BY 
 WAY OF TEXT. 
 
 "This is the woman, captain," one of the policemen said, in 
 triumph; "and, begging your pardon, will you keep a grip 
 of her till the sheriff comes back?" 
 
 Halliwell did not turn his head. 
 
 "You can leave her here," he said, carelessly. "Three of 
 us are not needed to guard a woman." 
 
 "But she's a slippery customer." 
 
 "You can go," said Halliwell; and the policemen with- 
 drew slowly, eyeing their prisoner doubtfully until the door 
 closed. Then the officer wheeled round languidly, expecting 
 to find the Egyptian gaunt and muscular. 
 
 "Now then," he drawled, "why — By Jove !" 
 
 The gallant soldier was as much taken aback as if he 
 had turned to find a pistol at his ear. He took his feet 
 off the table. Yet he only saw the gypsy's girlish figure in 
 its red and green, for she had covered her face with her 
 hands. She was looking at him intently between her fingers, 
 but he did not know this. All he did want to know just 
 then was what was behind the hands. 
 
 Before he spoke again she had perhaps made up her 
 mind about him, for she began to sob bitterly. At the 
 same time she slipped a finger over her ring. 
 
 "Why don't you look at me?" asked Halliwell, selfishly. 
 
 "I daurna." 
 
 "Am I so fearsome?" 
 
 "You're a sojer, and you would shoot me like a craw." 
 
 Halliwell laughed, and, taking her wrists in his hands, 
 uncovered her face. 
 
 "Oh, by Jove!" he said again, but this time to himself.
 
 40 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 As for the Egyptian, she slid the ring into her pocket, 
 and fell back before the officer's magnificence. 
 
 "Oh," she cried, "is all sojers like you?" 
 
 There was such admiration in her eyes that it would 
 have been self-contempt to doubt her. Yet having smiled 
 complacently, Halliwell became uneasy. 
 
 "Who on earth are you ?" he asked, finding it v^^ise not 
 to look her in the face. "Why do you not answer me more 
 quickly?" 
 
 "Dinna be angry at that, captain," the Egyptian implored. 
 "I promised my mither aye to count twenty afore I spoke, 
 because she thocht I was ower glib. Captain, how is't that 
 you're so fleid to look at me?" 
 
 Thus put on his mettle, Halliwell again faced her, with 
 the result that his question changed to "Where did you 
 get those eyes?" Then was he indignant with himself. 
 
 "What I want to know," he explained, severely, "is how 
 you were able to acquaint the Thrums people with our 
 movements ? That you must tell me at once, for the sheriff 
 blames my soldiers. Come now, no counting twenty!" 
 
 He was pacing the room now, and she had her face to 
 herself. It said several things, among them that the officer 
 evidently did not like this charge against his men. 
 
 "Does the shirra blame the sojers?" exclaimed this quick- 
 witted Egyptian. "Weel, that cows, for he has nane to blame 
 but himsel'." 
 
 "What!" cried Halliwell, delighted. "It was the sheriff 
 who told tales? Answer me. You are counting a hundred 
 this time." 
 
 Perhaps the gypsy had two reasons for withholding her 
 answer. If so, one of them was that, as the sheriff had 
 told nothing, she had a story to make up. The other 
 was that she wanted to strike a bargain with the officer. 
 
 "If I tell you," she said, eagerly, "will you set me free?" 
 
 "I may ask the sheriff to do so." 
 
 "But he mauna see me," the Egyptian said, in distress. 
 "There's reasons, captain." 
 
 "Why, surely you have not been before him on other 
 occasions," said Halliwell, surprised. 
 
 "No in the way you mean," muttered the gypsy, and for 
 the moment her eyes twinkled. But the light in them went 
 out when she remembered that the sheriff was near, and 
 she looked desperately at the window as if ready to fling 
 herself from it. She had very good reasons for not wish-
 
 \ 
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 41 
 
 ing to be seen by Riach, though fear that he would put 
 her in gaol was not one of them. 
 
 Halliwell thought it was the one cause of her woe, and 
 great was his desire to turn the tables on the sheriff. 
 
 "Tell me the truth," he said, "and I promise to befriend 
 you." 
 
 "Weel, then," the gypsy said, hoping still to soften his 
 heart, and making up her story as she told it, "yestreen 
 I met the shirra, and he telled me a' I hae telled the Thrums 
 folk this nicht." 
 
 "You can scarcely expect me to believe that. Where did 
 you meet him?" 
 
 "In Glen Quharit)^ He was riding on a horse." 
 
 "Well, I allow he was there yesterday, and on horseback. 
 He was on his way back to Tilliedrum from Lord Rintoul's 
 place. But don't tell me that he took a gypsy girl into 
 his confidence." 
 
 "Ay, he did, without kenning. He was gieing his horse 
 a drink when I met him, and he let me tell him his for- 
 tune. He said he would gaol me for an impostor if I didna 
 tell him true, so I gaed about it cautiously, and after a 
 minute or twa I telled him he was coming to Thrums the 
 nicht to nab the rioters." 
 
 "You are trifling with me," interposed the indignant sol- 
 dier. "You promised to tell me not what you said to the. 
 sheriff, but how he disclosed our movements to you." 
 
 "And that's just what I am telling you, only you hinna 
 the rumelgumption to see it. How do you think fortunes, 
 is telled? First we get out o' the man, without his seeing 
 what we're after, a' about himsel', and syne we repeat it 
 to him. That's what I did wi' the shirra." 
 
 "You drew the whole thing out of him without his 
 knowing?" 
 
 " 'Deed I did, and he rode awa' saying I was a witch." 
 
 The soldier heard with the delight of a schoolboy. 
 
 "Now if the sheriff does not liberate you at my request," 
 he said, "I will never let him hear the end of this story. 
 He was right; you are a witch. You deceived the sheriff;, 
 yes, undoubtedly you are a witch." 
 
 He looked at her with fun in his face, but the fun dis- 
 appeared, and a wondering admiration took its place. 
 
 "By Jove!" he said, "I don't wonder you bewitched the 
 sheriff. I must take care or you will bewitch the captain, 
 too."
 
 42 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 At this notion he smiled, but he also ceased looking at 
 her. Suddenly the Egyptian again began to cry. 
 
 "You're angry wi' me," she sobbed. "I wish I had never 
 set een on you." 
 
 "Why do you wish that?" Halliwell asked. 
 
 "Fine you ken," she answered, and again covered her face 
 with her hands. 
 
 He looked at her undecidedly. 
 
 "I am not angry with you," he said, gently. "You are 
 an extraordinary girl." 
 
 Had he really made a conquest of this beautiful creature? 
 Her words said so, but had he ? The captain could not 
 make up his mind. He gnawed his moustache in doubt. 
 
 There was silence, save for the Egyptian's sobs. Halli- 
 well's heart was touched, and he drew nearer her. 
 
 "My poor girl — " 
 
 He stopped. Was she crying? Was she not laughing at 
 him rather? He became red. 
 
 The gypsy peeped at him between her fingers, and saw 
 that he was of two minds. She let her hands fall from her 
 face, and undoubtedly there were tears on her cheeks. 
 
 "If you're no angry wi' me," she said, sadly, "how will 
 you no look at me ?" 
 
 "I am looking at you now." 
 
 He was very close to her, and staring into her wonderful 
 eyes. I am older than the captain, and those eyes have 
 dazzled me. 
 
 "Captain dear." 
 
 She put her hand in his. His chest rose. He knew she 
 was seeking to beguile him, but he could not take his eyes 
 off hers. He was in a worse plight than a woman listening 
 to the first whisper of love. 
 
 Now she was further from him, but the spell held. She 
 reached the door, without taking her eyes from his face. 
 For several seconds he had been as a man mesmerised. 
 
 Just in time he came to. It was when she turned from 
 him to find the handle of the door. She was turning it 
 when his hand fell on hers so suddenly that she screamed. 
 He twisted her round. 
 
 "Sit down there," he said, hoarsely, pointing to the chair 
 upon which he had flung his cloak. She dared not dis- 
 obey. Then he leant against the door, his back to her, for 
 just then he wanted no one to see his face. The gypsy sat 
 very still and a little frifchtened.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 43 
 
 Halliwell opened the door presently, and called to the sol- 
 dier on duty below : 
 
 "Davidson, see if you can find the sheriff. I want him. 
 And Davidson — " 
 
 The captain paused. 
 
 "Yes," he muttered, and the old soldier marvelled at his 
 words, "it is better. Davidson, lock this door on the out- 
 side." 
 
 Davidson did as he was ordered, and- again the Elgyptiaii 
 was left alone with Halliwell. 
 
 "Afraid of a woman !" she said, contemptuously, though 
 her heart sank when she heard the key turn in the lock. 
 
 "I admit it," he answered, calmly. 
 
 He walked up and down the room, and she sat silently 
 watching him. 
 
 "That story of yours about the sheriff was not true," he 
 said at last. 
 
 "I suspect it wasna," answered the Egyptian, coolly. 
 "Hae you been thinking about it a' this time ? Captain, 
 I could tell you what you are thinking now. You're wish- 
 ing it had been true, so that the ane o' you could not lauch 
 at the other." 
 
 "Silence \" said the captain, and not another word would 
 he speak until he heard the sheriff coming up the stair. The 
 Egyptian trembled at his step, and rose in desperation. 
 
 "Why is the door locked?" cried the sheriff, shaking it. 
 
 "All right," answered Halliwell ; "the key is on your 
 side." 
 
 At that moment the Egyptian knocked the lamp off the 
 table, and the room was at once in darkness. The officer 
 sprang at her, and, catching her by the skirt, held on. 
 
 "Why are j-ou in darkness?" asked the sheriff, as he 
 entered. 
 
 "Shut the door," cried Halliwell. "Put your back to it." 
 
 "Don't tell me the woman has escaped?" 
 
 "I have her ! I have her ! She capsized the lamp, the 
 little jade. Shut the door." 
 
 Still keeping firm hold of her, as he thought, the cap- 
 tain relit the lamp with his other hand. It showed an ex- 
 traordinary scene. The door was shut, and the sheriff was 
 guarding it. Halliwell was clutching the cloth of the bailie's 
 seat. There was no Egyptian. 
 
 A moment passed before either man found his tongue. 
 
 "Open the door. After her !" cried Halliwell.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 But the door would not open. The Egyptian had fled, and 
 locked it behind her. 
 
 What the two men said to each other, it would not be 
 fitting to tell. When Davidson, who had been gossiping at 
 the corner of the town-house, released his captain and the 
 sheriff, the gypsy had been gone for some minutes. 
 
 "But she sha'n't escape us," Riach cried, and hastened out 
 to assist in the pursuit. 
 
 Halliwell was in such a furious temper that he called up 
 Davidson, and admonished him for neglect of duty. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THREE A. M. MONSTROUS AUDACITY OF THE WOMAN. 
 
 Not till the stroke of three did Gavin turn homeward, 
 mth the legs of a ploughman, and eyes rebelling against 
 overwork. Seeking to comfort his dejected people, whose 
 courage lay spilt on the brae, he had been in as many 
 houses as the policemen. The soldiers marching through 
 the wynds came frequently upon him, and found it hard 
 to believe that he was always the same one. They told 
 afterwards that Thrums was remarkable for the ferocity 
 of its women, and the number of its little ministers. The 
 morning was nipping cold, and the streets were deserted, for 
 the people had been ordered within doors. As he crossed 
 the Roods, Gavin saw a gleam of redcoats. In the back 
 wynd he heard a bugle blown. A stir in the Banker's close 
 spoke of another seizure. At the top of the school wynd 
 two policemen, of whom one was Wearyworld, stopped the 
 minister with the flash of a lantern. 
 
 "We dauredna let you pass, sir," the Tilliedrum man 
 said, "without a good look at you. That's the orders." 
 
 "I hereby swear," said Wearyworld, authoritatively, "that 
 this is no the Egyptian. Signed, Peter Spens, policeman, 
 called by the vulgar Wearyworld. Mr. Dishart, you can 
 pass, unless you'll bide a wee and gie us your crack." 
 
 "You have not found the gypsy, then?" Gavin asked. 
 
 "No." the other policeman said, "but we ken she's within 
 cry o' this very spot, and escape she canna." 
 
 "What mortal man can do," Wearyworld said, "we're 
 doing; ay, and mair, but she's auld wecht, and may find
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 45 
 
 bilbie in queer places. Mr. Dishart, my official opinion is 
 that this Eg-yptian is fearsomely like my snuff-spoon. I've 
 kent me drap that spoon on the fender, and be beat to 
 find it in an hour. And yet, a' the time I was sure it was 
 there. This is a gey mysterious world, and women's the 
 uncanniest things in't. It's hardly mous to think how un- 
 canny they are." 
 
 "This one deserves to be punished," Gavin said, firmly; 
 "she incited the people to riot." 
 
 "She did," agreed Wearyworld, who was supping raven- 
 ously on sociability; "ay, she even tried her tricks on me, 
 so that them that kens no better thinks she fooled me. But 
 she's cracky. To gie her her due, she's cracky, and as for 
 her being a cuttie, you've said yoursel', Mr. Dishart, that 
 we're all desperately wicked. But we're sair tried. Has it 
 ever struck you that the trouts bites best on the Sabbath? 
 God's critturs tempting decent men." 
 
 "Come alang," cried the Tilliedrum man, impatiently. 
 
 "I'm coming, but I maun give Mr. Dishart permission to 
 pass first. Hae you heard, Mr. Dishart," Wearyworld whis- 
 pered, "that the Egyptian diddled baith the captain and the 
 shirra? It's my official opinion that she's no better than a 
 roasted onion, the which, if you grip it firm, jumps out o' 
 sicht, leaving its coat in your fingers. Mr. Dishart, you 
 can pass." 
 
 The policeman turned down the school wynd, and Gavin, 
 who had already heard exaggerated accounts of the strange 
 woman's escape from the tov/n-house, proceeded along the 
 Tenements. He walked in the black shadows of the houses, 
 though across the way there was the morning light. 
 
 In talking of the gypsy, the little minister had, as it were, 
 put on the black cap ; but now, even though he shook his 
 head angrily with every thought of her, the scene in 
 Windyghoul glimmered before his eyes. Sometimes when 
 he meant to frown he only sighed, and then having sighed 
 he shook himself. He was unpleasantly conscious of his 
 right hand, which had flung the divit. Ah, she was shame- 
 less, and it would be a bright day for Thrums that saw 
 the last of her. He hoped the policemen would succeed 
 in — It was the gladsomeness of innocence that he had 
 seen dancing in the moonlight. A mere woman could not 
 be like that. How soft — And she had derided him; he, 
 the Auld Licht minister of Thrums, had been flouted before 
 his people by a hussy. She was without reverence, she
 
 46 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 knew no difference between an Auld Licht minister, whose 
 duty it was to speak and hers to Hsten, and herself. This 
 woman deserved to be — ■ And the look she cast behind 
 her as she danced and sang ! It was sweet, so wistful ; the 
 presence of purity had silenced him. Purity ! Who had 
 made him fling that divit? He would think no more of her. 
 Let it suffice that he knew what she was. He would put 
 her from his thoughts. Was it a ring on her finger? 
 
 Fifty yards in front of him Gavin saw the road end in 
 a wall of soldiers. They were between him and the manse, 
 and he was still in darkness. No sound reached him, save 
 the echo of his own feet. But was it an echo? He stopped, 
 and turned round sharply. Now he heard nothing, he saw 
 nothing. Yet was not that a human figure standing motion- 
 less in the shadow behind? 
 
 He walked on, and again heard the sound. Again he 
 looked behind, but this time without stopping. The figure 
 was following him. He stopped. So did it. He turned 
 back, but it did not move. It was the Egyptian ! 
 
 Gavin knew her, despite the lane of darkness, despite 
 the long cloak that now concealed even her feet, despite 
 the hood over her head. She was looking quite respectable, 
 but he knew her. 
 
 He neither advanced to her nor retreated. Could the 
 unhappy girl not see that she was walking into the arms 
 of the soldiers? But doubtless she had been driven from 
 all her hiding-places. For a moment Gavin had it in his 
 heart to warn her. But it was only for a moment. The 
 next a sudden horror shot through him. She was stealing 
 towards him, so softly that he had not seen her start. The 
 woman had designs on him ! Gavin turned from her. He 
 walked so quickly that judges would have said he ran. 
 
 The soldiers, I have said, stood in the dim light. Gavin 
 had almost reached them, when a little hand touched his 
 arm. 
 
 "Stop," cried the sergeant, hearing some one approach- 
 ing, and then Gavin stepped out of the darkness with the 
 gypsy on his arm. 
 
 "It is you, Mr. Dishart," said the sergeant, "and your 
 lady?" 
 
 "I — " said Gavin. 
 
 His lady pinched his arm. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, in an elegant English voice that 
 made Gavin stare at her, "but, indeed, I am sorry I ven-
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 47 
 
 tured into the streets to-night. I thought I might be able 
 to comfort some of these unhappy people, captain, but I 
 could do little, sadly little." 
 
 •"It is no scene for a lady, ma'am, but your husband 
 has — Did you speak, Mr. Dishart?" 
 
 "Yes, I must inf — " 
 
 "My dear," said the Egyptian, "I quite agree with you, 
 so we need not detain the captain." 
 
 "I'm only a sergeant, ma'am." 
 
 "Indeed !" said the Egyptian, raising her pretty eyebrows, 
 "and how long are you to remain in Thrums, sergeant?" 
 
 "Only for a few hours, Mrs. Dishart. If this gypsy 
 lassie had not given us so much trouble, we might have 
 been gone by now." 
 
 "Ah, yes, I hope you will catch her, sergeant." 
 
 "Sergeant," said Gavin, firmly, "I must — " 
 
 "You must indeed, dear," said the Egyptian, "for you 
 are sadly tired. Good night, sergeant." 
 
 "Your servant, Mrs. Dishart. Your servant, sir." 
 
 "But — " cried Gavin. 
 
 "Come, love," said the Egyptian, and she walked the 
 distracted minister through the soldiers, and up the manse 
 road. 
 
 The soldiers left behind, Gavin flung her arm from him, 
 and, standing still, shook his fist in her face. 
 
 "You — you — woman !" he said. 
 
 This, I think, was the last time he called her a woman. 
 
 But she was clapping her hands merrily. 
 
 "It was beautiful !" she exclaimed. 
 
 "It was iniquitous!" he answered. "And I a minister!" 
 
 "You can't help that," said the Egyptian, who pitied all 
 ministers heartily. 
 
 "No," Gavin said, misunderstanding her. "I could not 
 help it. No blame attaches to me." 
 
 "I meant that you could not help being a minister. You 
 could have helped saving me, and I thank you so much." 
 
 "Do not dare to thank me. I forbid you to say that I 
 saved you. I did my best to hand you over to the authorities." 
 
 "Then why did you not hand me over?" 
 
 Gavin groaned. 
 
 "All you had to say," continued the merciless Egyptian, 
 "was, 'This is the person you are in search of.' I did not 
 have my hand over your mouth. Why did you not say it?" 
 
 "Forbear !" said Gavin, wofully.
 
 48 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "It must have been," the gypsy said, "because you really 
 wanted to help me." 
 
 "Then it was against my better judgment," said Gavin. 
 
 "I am glad of that," said the gypsy. "Mr. Dishart, I do 
 believe you like me all the time." 
 
 "Can a man like a woman against his will?" Gavin 
 blurted out. 
 
 "Of course he can," said the Egyptian, speaking as one 
 who knew. "That is the very nicest way to be liked." 
 
 Seeing how agitated Gavin was, remorse filled her, and 
 she said, in a wheedling voice: 
 
 "It is all over, and no one will know." 
 
 Passion sat on the minister's brow, but he said nothing, 
 for the gypsy's face had changed with her voice, and the 
 audacious woman was become a child. 
 
 "I am very sorry," she said, as if he had caught her 
 stealing jam. The hood had fallen back, and she looked 
 pleadingly at him. She had the appearance of one who was 
 entirely in his hands. 
 
 There was a torrent of words in Gavin, but only these 
 trickled forth : 
 
 "I don't understand you." 
 
 "You are not angry any more?" pleaded the Egyptian. 
 
 "Angry !" he cried, with the righteous rage of one who, 
 tvhen his leg is being sawn ofif, is askedgently if it hurtshim. 
 
 "I know you are," she sighed, and the sigh meant that 
 men are strange. 
 
 "Have you no respect for law and order?" demanded 
 Gavin. 
 
 "Not much," she answered, honestly. 
 
 He looked down the road to where the redcoats were still 
 visible, and his face became hard. She read his thoughts. 
 
 "No," she said, becoming a woman again, "it is not yet 
 too late. Why don't you shout to them?" 
 
 "I do not understand you," Gavin repeated, weakly, and 
 the gypsy bent her head under this terrible charge. 
 
 "Only a few hours ago," he continued, "you were a gypsy 
 girl in a fantastic dress, baiefooted — '' 
 
 The Egyptian's bare foot at once peeped out mischievously 
 from beneath the cloak, then again retired into hiding. 
 
 "You spoke as broadly," complained the minister, some- 
 what taken aback by this apparition, "as any woman in 
 Thrums, and now you fling a cloak over your shoulders, and 
 immediately become a fine lady. Who are you?"
 
 THE LITTLE ^IINISTER 49 
 
 "Perhaps," answered the Egyptian, "it is the cloak that 
 has bewitched me." She slipped out of it. "Ay, ay, ou 
 losh !" she said, as if surprised, "it was just the cloak that 
 did it, for now I'm a puir ignorant bit lassie again. My, 
 certie, but claithes does make a differ to a woman !" 
 
 This was sheer levity, and Gavin walked scornfully away 
 from it. 
 
 "Yet, if you will not tell me who you are," he said, look- 
 ing over his shoulder, "tell me where you got the cloak." 
 
 "Na faags," replied the gypsy out of the cloak. "Really, 
 Mr. Dishart, you had better not ask," she added, replacing 
 it over her. 
 
 She followed him, meaning to gain the open by the fields 
 to the north of the manse. 
 
 "Good-bye," she said, holding out her hand, "if you are 
 not to give me up." 
 
 "I am not a policeman," replied Gavin, but he would not 
 take her hand. 
 
 "Surely, we part friends, then?" said the Egyptian, sweetly. 
 
 "No," Gavin answered. "I hope never to see your face 
 again." 
 
 "I cannot help," the Egyptian said, with dignity, "your not 
 liking my face." Then, with less dignity, she added, "There 
 is a splotch of mud on your own, little minister; it came off 
 the divit you flung at the captain." 
 
 With this parting shot she tripped past him, and Gavin 
 would not let his eyes follow her. 
 
 Margaret was at her window, looking for him, and he saw 
 her, though she did not see him. He was stepping into the 
 middle of the road to wave his hand to her, when some 
 sudden weakness made him look towards the fields instead. 
 The Egyptian saw him and nodded thanks for his interest 
 in her, but he scowled and pretended to be studying the sky. 
 Next moment he saw her running back to him. 
 
 "There are soldiers at the top of the field," she cried. "I 
 cannot escape that way." 
 
 "There is no other way," Gavin answered. 
 
 "Will you not help me again?" she entreated. 
 
 She should not have said "again." Gavin shook his head, 
 but pulled her closer to the manse dyke, for his mother 
 was still in sight. 
 
 "Why do you do that?" the girl asked, quickly, looking 
 round to see if she were pursued. "Oh, I see," she said, as 
 her eyes fell on the figure at the window.
 
 50 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "It is my mother," Gavin said, though he need not have 
 explained, unless he wanted the gypsy to know that he was a 
 bachelor. 
 
 "Only your mother?" 
 
 "Only ! Let me tell you she may suffer more than you 
 for your behaviour to-night !" 
 
 "How can she?" 
 
 "If you are caught, will it not be discovered that I helped 
 you to escape?" 
 
 "But you said you did not." 
 
 "Yes, I helped you," Gavin admitted. "My God! what 
 would my congregation say if they knew I had let you pass 
 yourself off as — as my wife?" 
 
 He struck his brow, and the Egyptian had the propriety 
 to blush. 
 
 "It is not the punishment from men I am afraid of," 
 Gavin said, bitterly, "but from my conscience. No, that is 
 not true. I do fear exposure, but for my mother's sake. 
 Look at her ; she is happy, because she thinks me good and 
 true; she has had such trials as you cannot know of, and 
 now, when at last I seemed able to do sometliing for her, you 
 destroy her happiness. You have her life in your hands." 
 
 The Egyptian turned her back upon him, and one of her 
 feet tapped angrily on the dry ground. Then, child of im- 
 pulse as she always was, she flashed an indignant glance at 
 him, and walked quickly down the road. 
 
 "Where are you going ?" he cried. 
 
 "To give myself up. You need not be alarmed ; I will clear 
 you." 
 
 There was not a shake in her voice, and she spoke without 
 looking back. 
 
 "Stop!" Gavin called, but she would not, until his hand 
 touched her shoulder. 
 
 "What do you want?" she asked. 
 
 "Why — " whispered Gavin, giddily, "why — why do you not 
 hide in the manse garden? No one will look for you there." 
 
 There were genuine tears in the gypsy's eyes now. 
 
 "You are a good man,' she said; "I like you." 
 
 "Don't say that," Gavin cried, in horror. "There is a sum- 
 mer-seat in the garden." 
 
 Then he hurried from her, and, without looking to see if 
 she took his advice, hastened to the manse. Once inside, he 
 snibbed the door.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 51 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE WOMAN CONSIDERED IN ABSENCE ADVENTURES OF A 
 
 MILITARY CLOAK. 
 
 About six o'clock Margaret sat up suddenly in bed, with 
 the conviction that she had slept in. To her this was to ravel 
 the day: a dire thing. The last time it happened Gavin, 
 softened by her distress, had condensed morning worship 
 into a sentence that she might make up on the clock. 
 
 Her part on waking was merely to ring her bell, and so 
 rouse Jean, for Margaret had given Gavin a promise to 
 breakfast in bed, and remain there till her fire was lit. Accus- 
 tomed all her life, however, to early rising, her feet were 
 usually on the floor before she remembered her vow, and 
 then it was but a step to the window to survey the morning. 
 To Margaret, who seldom went out, the weather was not of 
 great moment, while it mattered much to Gavin, yet she al- 
 ways thought of it the first thing, and he not at all until 
 he had to decide whether his companion should be an um- 
 brella or a staff. 
 
 On this morning Margaret only noticed that there had been 
 rain since Gavin came in. Forgetting that the water ob- 
 scuring the outlook was on the other side of the panes, she 
 tried to brush it away with her fist. It was of the soldiers 
 she was thinking. They might have been awaiting her ap- 
 pearance at the window as their signal to depart, for hardly 
 had she raised the blind when they began their march out 
 of Thrums. From the manse she could not see them, but 
 she heard them, and she saw some people at the Tenements 
 run to their houses at sound of the drum. Other persons, less 
 timid, followed the enemy with execrations half way to 
 Tilliedrum. Margaret, the only person, as it happened, then 
 awake in the manse, stood listening for some time. In the 
 summer-seat of the garden, howcA^er, there was another 
 listener protected from her sight by thin spars. 
 
 Margaret opened Gavin's door to stand and look, for she 
 was fearful of awakening him after his heavy night. Even 
 before she saw that he still slept she noticed with surprise 
 that, for the first time since he came to Thrums, he had put 
 on his shutters. She concluded that he had done this lest 
 the light should rouse him. He was not sleeping pleasantly, 
 for now he put his open hand before his face, as if to
 
 52 THE LITTLE :MINISTER 
 
 guard himself, and again he frowned and seemed to draw 
 back from something. He pointed his finger sternly to the 
 north, ordering the weavers, his mother thought, to return to 
 their homes, and then he muttered to himself so that she 
 heard the words, '"And if thy right hand offend thee cut it 
 off, and cast it from thee, for it is profitable for thee that 
 one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole 
 body should be cast into hell." Then suddenly he bent for- 
 ward, his eyes open and fixed on the window. Thus he sat, 
 for the space of half a minute, like one listening with pain- 
 ful intentness. When he lay back Margaret slipped away. 
 She knew he was living the night over again, but not of the 
 divit his right hand had cast, nor of the woman in the 
 garden. 
 
 Gavin was roused presently by the sound of voices from 
 Margaret's room, where Jean, who had now gathered much 
 news, was giving it to her mistress. Jean's cheerfulness 
 would have told him that her father was safe had he not 
 wakened to thoughts of the Egyptian. I suppose he was at 
 the window in an instant, unsnibbing the shutters and look- 
 ing out as cautiously as a burglar might have looked in. 
 The Egyptian was gone from the summer-seat. He drew a 
 great breath. 
 
 But his troubles were not over. He had just lifted his 
 ewer of water when these words from the kitchen capsized 
 it: 
 
 "Ay, an Egyptian. That's what the auld folk call a 
 gypsy. Weel, Mrs. Dishart she led police and sojers sic a 
 dance through Thrums as would baffle description, though I 
 kent the fits and fors o't as I dinna. Ay, but they gripped 
 her in the end, and the queer thing is — " 
 
 Gavin listened to no more. He suddenly sat down. The 
 queer thing, of course, was that she had been caught in his 
 garden. Yes, and doubtless queerer things about this hussj 
 and her "husband" were being bawled from door to door. 
 To the girl's probable sufferings he gave no heed. What 
 kind of man had he been a few hours ago to yield to the 
 machinations of a womrn who was so obviously the devil? 
 Now he saw his folly in the face. 
 
 The tray in Jean's hands clattered against the dresser, and 
 Gavin sprang from his chair. He thought it was his elders 
 at the front door. 
 
 In the parlour he found Margaret sorrowing for those 
 whose mates had been torn from them, and Jean with a face
 
 THE LITTLE IVHNISTER 53 
 
 flushed by talk. On ordinary occasions the majesty of the 
 minister still cowed Jean, so that she could only gaze at 
 him without shaking when in church, and then because she 
 wore a veil. In the manse he was for taking a glance at 
 sideways and then going away comforted, as a respectable 
 woman may once or twice in a day look at her brooch in the 
 pasteboard box as a means of helping her with her work. 
 But with such a to-do in Thrums, and she the possessor of 
 exclusive information, Jean's reverence for Gavin only took 
 her to-day as far as the door, where she lingered half in the 
 parlour and half in the lobby, her eyes turned politely from 
 the minister, but her ears his entirely. 
 
 "I thought I heard Jean telling you about the capture of 
 the — of an Egyptian woman," Gavin said to his mother, 
 nervously. 
 
 "Did you cry to me?" Jean asked, turning round long- 
 ingly. "But maybe the mistress will tell you about the 
 Egyptian hersel'." 
 
 "Has she been taken to Tilliedrum?" Gavin asked, in a 
 hollow voice. 
 
 "Sup up your porridge, Gavin," Margaret said. "I'll have 
 no speaking about this terrible night till you've eaten some- 
 thing." 
 
 "I have no appetite," the minister replied, pushing his 
 plate from him. "Jean, answer me." 
 
 " 'Deed, then," said Jean, willingly, "they hinna ta'en her 
 to Tilliedrum." 
 
 "For what reason?" asked Gavin, his dread increasing. 
 
 "For the reason that they couldna catch her," Jean 
 answered. "She spirited hersel' awa', the magerful crit- 
 tur." 
 
 "What ! But I heard you say—" 
 
 "Ay, they had her aince, but they couldna keep her. It's 
 like a witch story. They had her safe in the town-house, 
 and baith shirra and captain guarding her, and syne in a 
 clink she wasna there. A' nicht they looked for her, but 
 she hadna left so muckle as a foot-print ahint her, and in 
 the tail of the day they had to up wi' their tap in their 
 lap and march awa without her." 
 
 Gavin's appetite returned. 
 
 "Has she been seen since the soldiers went away?" he 
 asked, laying down his spoon with a new fear. "Where 
 is she now?" 
 
 "No human eye has seen her," Jean answered, impres-
 
 54. THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 sively. "Whaur is she now? Whaur does the flies vanish to 
 in winter ? We ken they're some gait, but whaur ?" 
 
 ''But what are the people saying about her?" 
 
 "Daft things," said Jean. "Old Charles Yuill gangs the 
 length o' hinting that she's dead and buried." 
 
 "She could not have buried herself, Jean/' Margaret said, 
 mildly. 
 
 "I dinna ken. Charles says she's even capable o' that." 
 
 Then Jean retired reluctantly (but leaving the door ajar) 
 and Gavin fell to on his porridge. He was now so cheerful 
 that Alargaret wondered. 
 
 "If half the stories about this gypsy be true," she said, 
 "she must be more than a mere woman." 
 
 "Less, you mean, mother," Gavin said, with conviction. 
 "She is a woman, and a sinful one." 
 
 "Did you see her, Gavin?" 
 
 "I saw her. Mother, she flouted me!" 
 
 "The daring tawpie !" exclaimed Margaiet. 
 
 "She is all that," said the minister. 
 
 "Was she dressed just like an ordinary gypsy body? But 
 you don't notice clothes much, Gavin." 
 
 "I noticed hers," Gavin said, slowly, "she was in a green 
 and red, I think, and barefooted." 
 
 "Ay," shouted Jean from the kitchen, startling both of 
 them ; "but she had a lang gray-like cloak, too. She was seen 
 jouking up closes in't." 
 
 Gavin rose, considerably annoyed, and shut the parlour 
 door. 
 
 "Was she as bonny as folks say?" asked Margaret. "Jean 
 says they speak of her beauty as unearthly." 
 
 "Beauty of her kind," Gavin explained learnedly, "is 
 neither earthly nor heavenly." He was seeing things as they 
 are very clearly now. "What," he said, "is mere physical 
 beauty? Pooh!" 
 
 "And yet," said Margaret, "the soul surely does speak 
 through the face to some extent." 
 
 "Do you really think so, mother?*' Gavin asked, a little 
 uneasily. 
 
 "I have always noticed it," Margaret said, and then her 
 son sighed. 
 
 "But I would let no face influence me a jot," he said, re- 
 covering. 
 
 "Ah, Gavin, I'm thinking I'm the reason you pay so little 
 regard to women's faces. It's no natural."
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 55 
 
 "You've spoilt me, you see, mother, for ever caring for 
 another woman. I would compare her to you, and then 
 where would she be ?" 
 
 "Sometime," Margaret said, "you'll think differently." 
 
 "Never," answered Gavin, with a violence that ended the 
 conversation. 
 
 Soon afterwards he set off for the town, and in passing 
 down the garden walk cast a guilty glance at the summer- 
 seat. Something black was lying in one corner of it. He 
 stopped irresolutely, for his mother was nodding to him 
 from her window. Then he disappeared into the little 
 arbour. What had caught his eye was a Bible. On the 
 previous day, as he now remembered, he had been called 
 away while studying in the garden, and had left his Bible on 
 the summ:r-seat, a pencil between its pages. Not often prob- 
 ably had the Egyptian passed a night in such company. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FIRST SERMON AGAINST WOMEN. 
 
 On the afternoon of the following Sabbath, as I have 
 said, something strange happened in the Auld Licht pulpit. 
 The congregation, despite their troubles, turned it over and 
 peered at it for days, but had they seen into the inside 
 of it, they would have v^-eaved few webs until the session 
 had sat on the minister. The affair baffled me at the time, 
 and for the Egyptian's sake I would avoid mentioning it 
 now, were it not one of Gavin's milestones. It includes 
 the first of his memorable sermons against Woman. 
 
 I was not in the Auld Licht church that day, but I heard 
 of the sermon before night, and this, I think, is as good an 
 opportunity as another for showing how the gossip about 
 Gavin reached me up here in the Glen schoolhouse. Since 
 Margaret and her son came to the manse, I had kept the 
 vow made to myself, and avoided Thrums. Only once had 
 I ventured to the kirk, and then, instead of taking my old 
 seat, the fourth from the pulpit, I sat down near the plate, 
 where I could look at Margaret without her seeing me. To 
 spare her that agonj^ I even stole away as the last word of 
 the benediction was pronounced, and my haste scandalised
 
 56 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 many, for, with Auld Lichts, it is not customary to retire 
 quickly from the church after the manner of the godless 
 U. P.'s (and the Free Kirk is little better), who have their 
 hats in their hand when they rise for the benediction, so 
 that they may at once pour out like a burst dam. We resume 
 our seats, look straight before us, clear our throats, and 
 stretch out our hands for our womenfolk to put our hats 
 into them. In time we do get out, but I am never sure how. 
 
 On the Sabbath evening after the riot, I stood at the 
 usual place awaiting my friends, and saw, before they 
 reached me, that they had something untoward to tell. The 
 farmer, his wife and three children, holding each other's 
 hands, stretched across the road. Birse was a little behind, 
 but a conversation was being kept up by shouting. All were 
 walking the Sabbath pace, and the family having started half 
 a minute in advance, the post had not yet made up on them. 
 
 "It's sitting to snaw," Waster Lunny said, drawing near ; 
 and just as I was to reply, "It is so," Silva slipped in the 
 words before me. 
 
 "You wasna at the kirk," was Elspeth's salutation. I 
 had been at the Glen church, but did not contradict her, 
 for it is Established, and so neither here nor there. I was 
 anxious, too, to know what their long faces meant, and 
 so asked at once : 
 
 "Was Mr. Dishart on the riot ?" 
 
 "Forenoon, ay; afternoon, no," replied Waster Lunny, 
 walking round his wife to get nearer me. "Dominie, a 
 queery thing happened in the kirk this day, sic as — " 
 
 "Waster Lunny," interrupted Elspeth, sharply ; "have you 
 on your Sabbath shoon or have you no on your Sabbath 
 shoon ?" 
 
 "Guid care you took I should hae the dagont oncanny 
 things on," retorted the farmer. 
 
 "Keep out o' the gutter, then," said Elspeth, "on the Lord's 
 day." 
 
 "Him," said her man, "that is forced by a foolish woman 
 to wear genteel 'lastic-sided boots canna forget them till he 
 takes them aff. Whaur's the extra reverence in wearing 
 shoon twa sizes ower sma?" 
 
 "It mayna be mair reverent," suggested Birse, to whom 
 Elspeth's kitchen was a pleasant place, "but it's grand, and 
 you canna expect to be baith grand and comfortable." 
 
 I reminded them that they were speaking of Mr. Dishart. 
 
 "We was saying," began the post, briskly, "that — "
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 57 
 
 "^It was me that was saying it," said Waster Lunny. "So, 
 dominie — " 
 
 "Hand your gabs, baith o' you," interrupted Elspeth. 
 "You've been roaring the story to ane another till you're 
 hoarse." 
 
 "In the forenoon," Waster Lunny went on, determinedly, 
 "Mr. Dishart preached on the riot, and fine he was. Oh, 
 dominie, you should hae heard him ladling it on to Lang 
 Tammas, no by name but in sic a way that there was no mis- 
 taking wha he was preaching at. Sal ! oh, losh ! Tammas 
 got it strong." 
 
 "But he's dull in the uptake," broke in the post, "by what 
 I expected. I spoke to him after the sermon, and I says, 
 just to see if he was properly humbled, 'Ay, Tammas,' I says, 
 'them that discourse was preached against winna think them- 
 selves seven feet men for a while again.' 'Ay, Birse,' he 
 answers, 'and glad I am to hear you admit it, for he had you 
 in his eye.' I was fair scunnered at Tammas the day." 
 
 "Mr. Dishart was preaching at the whole clanjamfray o' 
 you," said Elspeth. 
 
 "Maybe he was," said her husband, leering; "but yot 
 needna cast it at us, for, my certie, if the men got it frae 
 him in the forenoon, the women got it in the afternoon." 
 
 "He redd them up most michty," said the post. "Thae 
 was his very words or something like them. 'Adam,' says 
 he, 'was an erring man, but aside Eve he was respectable.' " 
 
 "Ay, but it wasna a' women he meant," Elspeth explained, 
 "for when he said that, he pointed his finger direct at T'now- 
 head's lassie, and I hope it'll do her good." 
 
 "But I wonder," I said, "that Mr. Dishart chose such a 
 subject to-day. I thought he would be on the riot at both 
 services." 
 
 "You'll wonder mair," said Elspeth, "when you hear what 
 happened afore he b«^gan the afternoon sermon. But I canna 
 get in a word wi' that man o' mine." 
 
 "We've been speaking about it," said Birse, "ever since 
 we left the kirk door. Tod, we've been sawing it like 
 seed a' alang the glen." 
 
 "And we meant to tell you about it at once," said Waster 
 Lunny; "but there's aye so muckle to say about a minister. 
 Dagont, to hae ane keeps a body out o' languor. Ay, but this 
 breaks the drum. Dominie, either Mr. Dishart wasna weel, 
 or he was in the devil's grip." 
 
 This startled me, for the farmer was looking serious.
 
 58 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "He was weel eneuch," said Birse, "for a heap o' fowk 
 speired at Jean if he had ta'en his porridge as usual, and she 
 admitted he had. But the lassie was skeered hersel', and 
 said it was a mercy Mrs. Dishart wasna in the kirk." 
 
 "Why was she not there ?" I asked, anxiously. 
 
 "Oh, he winna let her out in sic weather." 
 
 "I wish you would tell me what happened," I said to El- 
 speth. 
 
 "So I will," she answered, "if Waster Lunny would haud 
 his wheesht for a minute. You see the afternoon diet began 
 in the ordinary way, and a' was richt until we came to the 
 sermon. 'You will find my text,' he says, in his piercing 
 voice, 'in the eighth chapter of Ezra.' " 
 
 "And at thae words," said Waster Lunny, "my heart gae a 
 loup, for Ezra is an unca ill book to find; ay, and so is 
 Ruth." 
 
 "I kent the books o' the Bible by heart," said Elspeth, 
 scornfully, "when I was a sax-year-auld." 
 
 "So did I," said Waster Lunny, "and I ken them yet, 
 except when I'm hurried. When Mr. Dishart gave out 
 Ezra he a sort o' keeked round the kirk to find out if he 
 had puzzled onybody, and so there was a kind o' a competi- 
 tion among the congregation wha would lay hand on it 
 first. That was what doited me. Ay, there was Ruth when 
 she wasna wanted, but Ezra, dagont, it looked as if Ezra 
 had jumped clean out o' the Bible." 
 
 "You wasna the only distressed crittur," said his wife. 
 "I was ashamed to see Eppie McLaren looking up the order 
 o' the books at the beginning o' the Bible." 
 
 "Tibbie Birse was even mair brazen," said the post, "for 
 the sly cuttie opened at Kings and pretended it was 
 Ezra." 
 
 "None o' thae things would I do," said Waster Lunny, 
 "and sal, I dauredna, for Davit Lunan was glowering over 
 my shuther. Ay, you may scowl at me, Elspeth Proctor, 
 but as far back as I can mind, Ezra has done me. Mony 
 a time afore I start for the kirk I take my Bible to a quiet 
 place and look Ezra up. In the very pew I says canny 
 to mysel', 'Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, Job,' the which should 
 be a help, but the moment the minister gi'es out that awfu' 
 book, away goes Ezra like the Egyptian." 
 
 "And you after her," said Elspeth, "like the weavers that 
 wouldna fecht. You make a windmill of your Bible." 
 
 "Oh, I winna admit I'm beat. Never mind, there's queer
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 59 
 
 things in the world forby Ezra. How is cripples aye so 
 puffed up mair than other folk? How does flour bread aye 
 fall on the buttered side ?" 
 
 "I will mind," Elspeth said, "for I was terrified the min- 
 ister would admonish you frae the pulpit." 
 
 "He couldna hae done that, for was he no baffled to find 
 Ezra himsel' ?" 
 
 "Him to find Ezra !" cried Elspeth. "I hae telled you 
 a dozen times he found it as easy as you could yoke a 
 horse." 
 
 "The thing can be explained in no other way," said her 
 husband, doggedly, "if he was weel and in soimd mind." 
 
 "Maybe the dominie can clear it up," suggested the post, 
 "him being a scholar." 
 
 "Then tell me what happened," I asked. 
 
 "Godsake, hae we no telled you?" Birse said. "I thocht 
 we had." 
 
 "It was a terrible scene," said Elspeth, giving her husband 
 a shove. "As I said, Mr. Dishart gave out Ezra eighth. 
 Weel, I turned it up in a jiffy, and syne looked cautiously to 
 see how Eppie McLaren was getting on. Just at that minute 
 I heard a groan frae the pulpit. It didna stop short o' a 
 groan. Ay, you may be sure I looked quick at the minister, 
 and there I saw a sicht that would hae made the grandest 
 gape. His face was as white as a baker's, and he had a sort 
 of fallen against the back o' the pulpit, staring demented-like 
 at his open Bible." 
 
 "And I saw him," said Birse, "put up his hand atween 
 him and the Book, as if he thocht it was to jump at him." 
 
 "Twice," said Elspeth, "he tried to speak, and twice he 
 let the words fall." 
 
 "That," says Waster Lunny, "the whole congregation ad- 
 mits, but I didna see it mysel', for a' this time you may 
 picture me hunting savage-like for Ezra. I thocht the 
 minister was waiting till I found it." 
 
 "Hendry Munn," said Birse, "stood upon one leg, wonder- 
 ing whether he should run to the session-house for a glass 
 of water." 
 
 "But by that time," said Elspeth, "the fit had left Mr. 
 Dishart, or rather it had ta'en a new turn. He grew red, 
 and it's gospel that he stamped his foot." 
 
 "He had the face of one using bad words," said the post. 
 "He didna swear, of course, but that was the face he had 
 on."
 
 60 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "I missed it," said Waster Lunny, "for I was in full cry 
 after Ezra, with the sweat running- down my face." 
 
 "But the most astounding thing has yet to be telled," went 
 on Elspeth. "The minister shook himsel' like one wakening 
 frae a nasty dream, and he cries in a voice of thunder, just 
 as if he was shaking his fist at somebody — " 
 
 "He cries," Birse interposed, cleverly, "he cries, 'You will 
 find the text in Genesis, chapter three, verse six.' " 
 
 "Yes," said Elspeth, "first he gave out one text, and then 
 he gave out another, being the most amazing thing to my 
 mind that ever happened in the town of Thrums. What will 
 our children's children think o't? I wouldna hae missed it 
 for a pound note." 
 
 "Nor me," said Waster Lunny, "though I only got the 
 tail o't. Dominie, no sooner had he said Genesis third and 
 sixth, than I laid my finger on Ezra. Was it no provoking? 
 Onybody can turn up Genesis, but it needs an able-bodied 
 man to find Ezra." 
 
 "He preached on the Fall," Elspeth said, "for an hour 
 and twenty-five minutes, but powerful though he was I 
 would rather he had telled us what made him gie the go-by 
 to Ezra." 
 
 "All I can say," said Waster Lunny, "is that I never heard 
 him mair awe-inspiring. Whaur has he got sic a knowledge 
 of women? He riddled them, he fair riddled them, till I 
 was ashamed o' being married." 
 
 "It's easy kcnt whaur he got his knowledge of women," 
 Birse explained, "it's a' in the original Hebrew. You can 
 howk ony mortal thing out o' the original Hebrew, the which 
 all ministers hae at their finger ends. What else makes 
 them ken to jump a verse now and then when giving out a 
 psalm ?" 
 
 "It wasna women like me he denounced," Elspeth insisted, 
 "but young lassies that leads men astray wi' their abominable 
 wheedling ways." 
 
 "Tod," said her husband, "if they try their hands on Mr. 
 Dishart they'll meet their match." 
 
 "They will," chuckled the post. "The Hebrew's a grand 
 thing, though teuch, I'm telled, michty teuch." 
 
 "His sublimest burst," Waster Lunny came back to tell 
 me, "was about the beauty o' the soul being everything 
 and the beauty o' the face no worth a snuff. What a 
 scorn he has for bonny faces and toom souls ! I dinna 
 deny but what a bonnv face fell takes me. but Mr. Dis-
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 61 
 
 hart wouldna gie a blade o' grass for't. Ay, and I used 
 to think that in their foolishness about women there was 
 dagont little differ atween the unlearned and the highly 
 edicated." 
 
 The gossip about Gavin brought hitherto to the school- 
 house had been as bread to me, but this I did not like. For a 
 minister to behave thus was as unsettling to us as a change 
 of Government to Londoners, and I decided to give my 
 scholars a holiday on the morrow and tramp into the town 
 for fuller news. But all through the night it snowed, and 
 next day, and then intermittently for many days, and every 
 fall took the school miles farther away from Thrums. Birse 
 and the crows had now the glen road to themselves, and 
 even Birse had twice or thrice to bed with me. At these 
 times, had he not been so interested in describing his progress 
 through the snow, maintaining that the crying want of our 
 glen road was palings for postmen to kick their feet against, 
 he must have wondered why I always turned the talk to 
 the Auld Licht minister. 
 
 ''Ony explanation o' his sudden change o' texts ?" Birse 
 said, repeating my question. "Tod, and there is and to spare, 
 for I hear tell there's saxteen explanations in the Tenements 
 alone. As Tammas Haggart says, that's a blessing, for if 
 there had just been twa explanations the kirk micht hae 
 split on them." 
 
 "Ay," he said at another time, "twa or three even dared to 
 question the minister, but I'm thinking they made nothing 
 o't. The majority agrees that he was just inspired to change 
 his text. But Lang Tammas is dour. Tammas telled the 
 session a queer thing. He says that after the diet o' worship 
 on that eventful afternoon Mr. Dishart carried the Bible out 
 o' the pulpit instead o' leaving that duty as usual to the 
 kirk officer. Weel, Tammas, being precentor, has a richt, 
 as you ken, to leave the kirk by the session-house door, 
 just like the minister himsel'. He did so that afternoon, 
 and what, think you, did he see? He saw Mr, Dishart tear- 
 ing a page out o' the Bible, and flinging it savagely into the 
 session-house fire. You dinna credit it? Weel, it's stag- 
 gering, but there's Hendry Munn's evidence, too. Hendry 
 took his first chance o' looking up Ezra in the minister's 
 Bible, and, behold, the page wi' the eighth chapter was 
 gone. Them that thinks Tammas wasna blind wi' excitement 
 bauds it had been Ezra eighth that gaed into the fire. Ony- 
 way, there's no doubt about the page's being missing, fo»-
 
 62 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 whatever excitement Tammas was in, Hendry was as cool as 
 ever." 
 
 A week later Birse told me that the congregation had 
 decided to regard the incident as adding lustre to their kirk. 
 This was largely, I fear, because it could then be used to 
 beHttle the Established minister. That fervent Auld Licht, 
 Snecky Hobart, feeling that Gavin's action was unsound, had 
 gone on the following Sabbath to the parish kirk and sat 
 under Mr. Duthie. But Mr. Duthie was a close reader, so 
 that Snecky flung himself about in his pew in misery. The 
 minister concluded his sermon with these words : "But on 
 this subject I will say no more at present." "Because you 
 canna," Snecky roared, and strutted out of the church. Com- 
 paring the two scenes, it is obvious that the Auld Lichts had 
 won a victory. After preaching impromptu for an hour 
 and twenty-five minutes, it could never be said of Gavin 
 that he needed to read. He became more popular than ever. 
 Yet the change of texts was not forgotten. If in the future 
 any other indictments were brought against him, it would 
 certainly be pinned to them. 
 
 I marvelled long over Gavin's jump from Ezra to Genesis, 
 and at this his first philippic against Woman, but I have 
 known the cause for many a year. The Bible was the one 
 that had lain on the summer-seat while the Egyptian hid 
 there. It was the great pulpit Bible which remains in the 
 church as a rule, but Gavin had taken it home the previous 
 day to make some of its loose pages secure with paste. He 
 had studied from it on the day preceding the riot, but had 
 used a small Bible during the rest of the week. When he 
 turned in the pulpit to Ezra, where he had left the large 
 Bible open in the summer-seat, he found this scrawled across 
 chapter eight: 
 
 "I will never tell who flung the clod at Captain HalHwell. 
 But why did you fling it? I will never tell that you allowed 
 me to be called Mrs. Dishart before witnesses. But is not 
 Ihis a Scotch marriage? Signed, Babbie the Egyptian."
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 63 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 TELLS IN A WHISPER OF MAN's FALL DURING THE CURLING 
 
 SEASON. 
 
 No snow could be seen in Thrums by the beginning of 
 the year, though clods of it lay in Waster Lunny's fields, 
 where his hens wandered all day as if looking for some- 
 thing they had dropped. A black frost had set in, and one 
 walking on the glen road could imagine that through the 
 cracks in it, he saw a loch glistening. From my door I 
 could hear the roar of curling stones at Rashie-bog, which 
 is almost four miles nearer Thrums. On the day I am 
 recalling, I see that I only made one entry in my diary, "At 
 Jast bought Waster Lunny's bantams." Well do I remember 
 the transaction, and no wonder, for I had all but bought 
 the bantams every day for a six months. 
 
 About noon the doctor's dog-cart was observed by all the 
 Tenements standing at the Auld Licht manse. The various 
 surmises were wrong. Margaret had not been suddenly 
 taken ill; Jean had not swallowed a darning-needle; the 
 minister had not walked out at his study window in a mo- 
 ment of sublime thought. Gavin stepped into the dog-cart, 
 which at once drove off in the direction of Rashie-bog, but 
 equally in error were those who said that the doctor was 
 making a curler of him. 
 
 There was, however, ground for gossip ; for Thrums folk 
 seldom called in a doctor until it was too late to cure them, 
 and McQueen was not the man to pay social visits. Of 
 his skill we knew fearsome stories, as that, by looking at 
 Archie Allardyce, who had come to broken bones on a 
 ladder, he discovered which rung Archie fell from. When 
 he entered a stuffy room he would poke his staff through 
 the window to let in fresh air, and then fling down a 
 shilling to pay for the breakage. He was deaf in the right 
 ear, and therefore usually took the left side of prosy people, 
 thus, as he explained, making a blessing of an affliction, 
 "A pity I don't hear better ?" I have heard him say. "Not at 
 all. H my misfortune, as you call it, were to be removed, 
 you can't conceive how I should miss my deaf ear." He was 
 a fine fellow, though brusque, and I never saw him without his 
 pipe until two days before we buried him, which was five and 
 twenty years ago come Martinmas.
 
 64 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "We're all quite weel," Jean said, apprehensively, as she 
 answered his knock on the manse door, and she tried to be 
 pleasant, too, for well she knew that, if a doctor willed it, 
 she could have fever in five minutes. 
 
 "Ay, Jean, I'll soon alter that," he replied, ferociously. 
 "Is the master in?" 
 
 "He's at his sermon," Jean said, with importance. 
 
 To interrupt the minister at such a moment seemed sac- 
 filege to her, for her up-bringing had been good. Her 
 mother had once fainted in the church, but though the 
 family's distress was great, they neither bore her out, nor 
 signed to the kirk officer to bring water. They propped her 
 up in the pew in a respectful attitude, joining in the singing 
 meanwhile, and she recovered in time to look up 2d Chron- 
 icles, twenty-first and seventh. 
 
 "Tell him I want to speak to him at the door," said the 
 doctor, fiercely, "or I'll bleed you this minute." 
 
 McQueen would not enter, because his horse might have 
 seized the opportunity to return stablewards. At the houses 
 where it was accustomed to stop, it drew up of its own 
 accord, knowing where the doctor's "cases" were as well as 
 himself, but it resented new patients. 
 
 "You like misery, I think, Mr. Dishart," McQueen said, 
 when Gavin came to him, "at least I am always finding yoa 
 in the thick of it, and that is why I am here now. I have 
 a rare job for you if you will jump into the machine. You 
 know Nanny Webster, who lives on the edge of Windy- 
 ghoul? No, you don't, for she belongs to the other kirk. 
 Well, at all events, you know her brother, Sanders, the 
 mole-catcher?" 
 
 "I remember him. You mean the man who boasted SO 
 much about seeing a ball at Lord Rintoul's place?" 
 
 "The same, and, as you may know, his boasting about 
 maltreating policemen whom he never saw led to his being 
 sentenced to nine months in gaol lately." 
 
 "That is the man," said Gavin. "I never liked him." 
 
 "No, but his sister did," McQueen answered, drily, "and 
 with reason, for he was her breadwinner, and now she is 
 starving." 
 
 "Anything I can give her—" 
 
 "Would be too little, sir." 
 
 "But the neighbours — " 
 
 "She has few near her, and though the Thrums poor 
 help each other bravely, they are at present nigh as
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 65 
 
 needy as herself. Nanny is coming to the poorhouse, Mr. 
 Dishart." 
 
 "God help her !" exclaimed Gavin. 
 
 "Nonsense," said the doctor, trying to make himself a 
 hard man. "She will be properly looked after there, and — 
 and in time she will like it." 
 
 "Don't let my mother hear you speaking of taking an old 
 woman to that place," Gavin said, looking anxiously up the 
 stair. I cannot pretend that Margaret never listened. 
 
 "You all speak as if the poorhouse was a gaol," the doctor 
 said, testily. "But so far as Nanny is concerned, everything 
 is arranged. I promised to drive her to the poorhouse to-day, 
 and she is waiting for me now. Don't look at me as if I 
 was a brute. She is to take some of her things with her 
 to the poorhouse, and the rest is to be left until Sanders's 
 return, when she may rejoin him. At least we said that to 
 her to comfort her." 
 
 "You want me to go with you?" 
 
 "Yes, though I warn you it may be a distressing scene; 
 indeed, the truth is that I am loth to face Nanny alone to-day. 
 Mr. Duthie should have accompanied me, for the Websters 
 are Established Kirk; ay, and so he would if Rashie-bog had 
 not been bearing. A terrible snare this curling, Mr. Dis- 
 hart," — here the doctor sighed, — "I have known Mr. Duthie 
 wait until midnight struck on Sabbath and then be off to 
 Rashie-bog with a torch." 
 
 "I will go with you," Gavin said, putting on his coat. 
 
 "Jump in then. You won't smoke? I never see a respect- 
 able man not smoking, sir, but I feel indignant with him 
 for such sheer waste of time." 
 
 Gavin smiled at this, and Snecky Hobart, who happened 
 to be keeking over the manse dyke, bore the news to the 
 Tenements. 
 
 "I'll no sleep the nicht," Snecky said, "for wondering 
 what made the minister lauch. Ay, it would be no trifle." 
 
 A minister, it is certain, who wore a smile on his face 
 would never have been called to the Auld Licht kirk, for 
 life is a wrestle with the devil, and only the frivolous think to 
 throw him without taking off their coats. Yet, though 
 Gavin's zeal was what the congregation reverenced, many 
 loved him privately for his boyishness. He could unbend at 
 marriages, of which he had six on the last day of the year, 
 and at every one of them he joked (the same Joke) like a 
 layman. Some did not approve of his playing at the tee-
 
 66 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 totum for ten minutes with Kitty Dundas's invalid son, but 
 the way Kitty boasted about it would have disgusted any- 
 body. At the present day there are probably a score of 
 Gavins in Thrums, all called after the little minister, and 
 there is one Gavinia, whom he hesitated to christen. He 
 made humorous remarks (the same remark) about all these 
 children, and his smile as he patted their heads was for think- 
 ing over when one's work was done for the day. 
 
 The doctor's horse clattered up the Backwynd noisily, as 
 if a minister behind made no difference to it. Instead of 
 climbing the Roods, however, the nearest way to Nanny's, it 
 went westward, which Gavin, in a reverie, did not notice. 
 The truth must be told. The Egyptian was again in his head. 
 
 "Have I fallen deaf in the left ear, too?" said the doctor. 
 "1 see your lips moving, but I don't catch a syllable." 
 
 Gavin started, coloured, and flung the gypsy out of the 
 trap. 
 
 "Why are we not going up the Roods?" he asked. 
 
 '"Well," said the doctor, slowly, "at the top of the Roods 
 there is a stance for circuses, and this old beast of mine 
 won't pass it. You know, unless you are behind in the 
 clashes and clavers of Thrums, that I bought her from the 
 manager of a travelling show. She was the horse ('Light- 
 ning' they called her) that galloped round the ring at a mile 
 an hour, and so at the top of the Roods she is still un- 
 manageable. She once dragged me to the scene of her 
 former triumphs, and went revolving round it, dragging the 
 machine after her." 
 
 "H you had not explained that," said Gavin, "I might 
 have thought that you wanted to pass by Rashie-bog." 
 
 The doctor, indeed, was already standing up to catch a 
 first glimpse of the curlers. 
 
 "Well," he admitted, "I might have managed to pass the 
 circus ring, though what I have told you is true. However, 
 I have not come this way merely to see how the match is 
 going. I want to shame Mr. Duthie for neglecting his duty. 
 It will help me to do mine, for the Lord knows I am find- 
 ing it hard, with the music of these stones in my ears." 
 
 'T never saw it played before," Gavin said, standing up in 
 his turn. "What a din they make ! McQueen, I believe 
 they are fighting !" 
 
 "No, no," said the excited doctor, "they are just a bit daft. 
 That's the proper spirit for the game. Look, that's the baron- 
 bailie near standing on his head, and there's Mr. Duthie off
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 67 
 
 his head a' thegither, Yon's twa weavers and a mason 
 cursing the laird, an the man.wi' the besom is the Master of 
 Crumnathie." 
 
 "A democracy, at all events," said Gavin. 
 
 "By no means," said the doctor, "it's an aristocracy of in- 
 tellect. Gee up, Lightning, or the frost v^^ill be gone before 
 we are there." 
 
 McQueen turned Lightning down the Rashie-bog road, 
 which would be impassable as soon as the thaw came. In 
 summer Rashie-bog is several fields in which a cart does 
 not sink unless it stands still, but in winter it is a loch 
 with here and there a spring, where dead men are said 
 to lie. There are no rushes at its east end, and here the 
 dog-cart drew up near the curlers, a crowd of men dancing, 
 screaming, shaking their fists and sweeping, while half a 
 hundred onlookers got in their way, gesticulating and 
 advising. 
 
 "Hold me tight," the doctor whispered to Gavin, "or 
 I'll be leaving you to drive Nanny to the poorhouse by 
 yourself." 
 
 He had no sooner said this, than he tried to jump out 
 of the trap. 
 
 "You donnert fule, John Robbie," he shouted to a player, 
 "soop her up, man, soop her up ; no, no, dinna, dinna ; leave 
 her alane. Bailie, leave her alane, you blazing idiot. Mr. 
 Dishart, let me go; what do you mean, sir, by hanging on 
 to my coat tails? Dang it all, Duthie's winning. He has it, 
 he has it !" 
 
 "You're to play, doctor?" some cried, running to the dog- 
 cart. "We hae missed you sair." 
 
 "Jeames, I — I — No, I daurna." 
 
 "Then we get our licks. I never saw the minister in sic 
 form. We can do nothing against him." 
 
 "Then," cried McQueen, "I'll play. Come what will, 
 I'll play. Let go my tails, Mr. Dishart, or I'll cut them 
 off. Duty? Fiddlesticks!" 
 
 "Shame on you, sir," said Gavin; "yes, and on you others 
 who would entice him frora his duty." 
 
 "Shame!" the doctor cried. "Look at Mr. Duthie. Is he 
 ashamed? And yet that man has been reproving me for a 
 twelvemonths, because I've refused to become one of his 
 elders. Duthie," he shouted, "think shame of yourself for 
 curling this day." 
 
 Mr, Duthie had carefully turned his back to the trap, for
 
 68 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 Gavin's presence in it annoyed him. We seldom care to be 
 reminded of our duty by seeing another do it. Now, how- 
 ever, he advanced to the dog-cart, taking the far side of 
 Gavin. 
 
 "Put on your coat, Mr. Duthie," said the doctor, Vand 
 come with me to Nanny Webster's. You promised." 
 
 Mr. Duthie looked quizzically at Gavin, and then at the 
 sky. 
 
 "Tlie thaw may come at any moment," he said, 
 
 "I think the frost is to hold," said Gavin. 
 
 "It may hold over to-morrow," Mr. Duthie admitted; "but 
 to-morrow's the Sabbath, and so a lost day." 
 
 "A what?" exclaimed Gavin, horrified. 
 
 "I only mean," Mr. Duthie answered, colouring, "that we 
 can't curl on the Lord's day. As for what it may be like 
 on Monday, no one can say. No, doctor, I won't risk it. 
 We're in the middle of a game, man." 
 
 Gavin looked very grave. 
 
 "I see what you are thinking, Mr. Dishart," the old min- 
 ister said, doggedly; "but then, you don't curl. You are 
 very wise. I have forbidden my sons to curl." 
 
 "Then you openly snap your fingers at your duty, Mr. 
 Duthie?" said the doctor, loftily. ("You can let go my 
 tails now, Mr. Dishart, for the madness has passed.") 
 
 "None of your virtuous airs, McQueen." said Mr. Duthie, 
 hotly. "What was the name of the doctor that warned 
 women never to have bairns while it was handing?" 
 
 "And what," retorted McQueen, "was the name of the 
 minister that told his session he would neither preach nor 
 pray while the black frost lasted?" 
 
 "Hoots, doctor," said Duthie, "don't lose your temper be- 
 cause I'm in such form." 
 
 "Don't lose yours, Duthie, because I aye beat you." 
 
 "You beat me, McQueen ! Go home, sir, and don't talk 
 havers. Who beat you at — " 
 
 "Who made vou sing small at — " 
 
 "Who won—" 
 
 "Who—" 
 
 "Who—" 
 
 "I'll play you on Monday for whatever you like !" shrieked 
 the doctor. 
 
 "If it holds," cried the minister, "I'll be here the whole 
 day. Name the stakes yourself. A stone?" 
 
 "No," the doctor said, "but I'll tell you what we'll play
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 69 
 
 for. You've been dinging: me doited about that eldership, 
 and we'll play for't. If you win I accept office." 
 
 "Done," said the minister, recklessly. 
 
 The dog-cart was now turned towards Windyghoul, its 
 driver once more good-humoured, but Gavin silent. 
 
 "You would have been the better of my deaf ear just now, 
 Mr. Dishart," McQueen said after the loch had been left 
 behind. "Ay, and I'm thinking my pipe would soothe you. 
 But don't take it so much to heart, man. I'll lick him 
 easily. He's a decent man, the minister, but vain of his play, 
 ridiculously vain. However, I think the sight of you, in the 
 place that should have been his, has broken his nerve for 
 this day, and our side may win yet." 
 
 "I believe," Gavin said, with sudden enlightenment, "that 
 you brought me here for that purpose." 
 
 "Maybe," chuckled the doctor ; "maybe." Then he changed 
 the subject suddenly. "Mr. Dishart," he asked, "were you 
 ever in love?" 
 
 "Never !" answered Gavin, violently. 
 
 "Well, well," said the doctor, "don't terrify the horse. I 
 have been in love myself. It's bad, but it's nothing to 
 curling." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 TRAGEDY OF A MUD HOUSE. 
 
 The dog-cart bumped between the trees of Caddam, fling- 
 ing Gavin and the doctor at each other as a wheel rose on 
 some beech-root or sank for a moment in a pool. I suppose 
 the wood was a pretty sight that day, the pines only white 
 where they had met the snow, as if the numbed painter had 
 left his work unfinished, the brittle twigs snapping overhead, 
 the water as black as tar. But it matters little what the 
 wood was like. Within a squirrel's leap of it an old woman 
 was standing at the door of a mud house listening for the 
 approach of the trap that was to take her to the poorhouse. 
 Can you think of the beauty of the day now? 
 
 Nanny was not crying. She had redd up her house for 
 the last time and put on her black merino. Her mouth was 
 wide open while she listened. If you had addressed her you 
 would have thought her polite and stupid. Look at her. A 
 flabby- faced woman she is now, with a swollen body, and no
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 one has heeded her much these thirty years. I can tell you 
 something; it is almost droll, Nanny Webster was once a 
 gay flirt, and in Airlie Square there is a weaver with an 
 unsteady head who thought all the earth of her. His loom 
 has taken a foot from his stature, and gone are Nanny's 
 raven locks on which he used to place his adoring hand. 
 Down in Airlie Square he is weaving for his life, and here 
 is Nanny ripe for the poorhouse, and between them is the 
 hill where they were lovers. That is all the story save 
 when Nanny heard the dog-cart she screamed. 
 
 No neighbour was with her. If you think this hard, it is 
 because you do not understand. Perhaps Nanny had never 
 been very lovable except to one man, and him, it is said, she 
 lost through her own vanity; but there was much in her to 
 like. The neighbours, of whom there were two not a hun- 
 dred yards away, would have been with her now, but they 
 feared to hurt her feelings. No heart opens to sympathy 
 without letting in delicacy, and these poor people knew that 
 Nanny would not like them to see her being taken away. 
 For a week they had been aware of what was coming, and 
 they had been most kind to her, but that hideous word, the 
 poorhouse, they had not uttered. Poorhouse is not to be 
 spoken in Thrums, though it is nothing to tell a man that 
 you see death in his face. Did Nanny think they knew when 
 she was going ? was a question they whispered to each other, 
 and her suffering eyes cut scars on their hearts. So now 
 that the hour had come they called their children into their 
 houses and pulled down their blinds. 
 
 "If you would like to see her by yourself," the doctor 
 said eagerly, to Gavin, as the horse drew up at Nanny's 
 gate, "I'll wait with the horse. Not," he added, hastily, 
 ''that I feel sorry for her. We are doing her a kindness." 
 
 They dismounted together, however, and Nanny, who had 
 run from the trap into the house, watched them from her 
 window. 
 
 McQueen saw her and said, glumly, "I should have come 
 alone, for if you pray she is sure to break down. Mr. Dis- 
 hart, could you not pra> cheerfully?" 
 
 "You don't look very cheerful yourself," Gavin said, sadly. 
 
 "Nonsense," answered the doctor. "I have no patience 
 with this false sentiment. Stand still, Lightning, and be 
 thankful you are not your master to-day." 
 
 Tlie door stood open, and Nanny was crouching against the 
 opposite wall of the room, such a poor, dull kitchen, thr.t
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 71 
 
 you would have thought the furniture had still to be brought 
 into it. The blanket and the piece of old carpet that was 
 Nanny's coverlet were already packed in her box. The plate 
 rack was empty. Only the round table and the two chairs, 
 and the stools and some pans, were being left behind. 
 
 "Well, Nanny," the doctor said, trying to bluster, "I have 
 come, and you see Mr. Dishart is with me." 
 
 Nanny rose bravely. She knew the doctor was good to 
 her, and she wanted to thank him, I have not seen a great 
 deal of the world myself, but often the sweet politeness of 
 the aged poor has struck me as beautiful. Nanny dropped a 
 curtesy, an ungainly one maybe, but it was an old woman 
 giving the best she had. 
 
 "Thank you kindly, sirs," she said; and then two pairs of 
 eyes dropped before hers. 
 
 "Please to take a chair," she added, timidly. It is strange 
 to know that at that awful moment, for let none tell me it 
 was less than awful, the old woman was the one who could 
 speak. 
 
 Both men sat down, for they would have hurt Nanny by 
 remaining standing. Some ministers would have known the 
 right thing to say to her, but Gavin dared not let himself 
 speak. I have again to remind you that he was only one 
 and twenty. 
 
 The doctor thought it best that they should depart at once. 
 He rose. 
 
 "Oh, no, doctor," cried Nanny, in alarm. 
 
 "But you are ready?" 
 
 "Ay," she said, "I have been ready this twa hours, but 
 you micht wait a minute. Hendry Munn and Andrew Al- 
 lardyce is coming yont the road, and they would see me." 
 
 "Wait, doctor," Gavin said. 
 
 "Thank you kindly, sir," answered Nanny. 
 
 "But. Nanny," the doctor said, "you must remember what 
 I told you about the poo — , about the place you are going to. 
 It is a fine house, and you will be very happy in it." 
 
 "Ay, I'll be happy in't," Nanny faltered, "but, doctor, if I 
 could just hae bidden on here though I wasna happy!" 
 
 "Think of the food you will get ; broth nearly every day." 
 
 "It — it'll be terrible enjoyable," Nanny said. 
 
 ''And there will be pleasant company for you always," 
 continued the doctor, "and a nice room to sit in. Why, after 
 you have been there a week you won't be the same woman."" 
 
 "That's it!" cried Nanny, with sudden passion. "Na, na;
 
 72 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 I'll be a woman on the poor's rates. Oh, mither, mither, you 
 little thocht when you bore me that I would come to this !" 
 
 "Nanny," the doctor said, rising again, "I am ashamed of 
 you." 
 
 "I humbly speir your forgiveness, sir," she said, "and you 
 micht bide just a wee yet. I've been ready to gang these 
 twa hours, but now that the machine is at the gate, I dinna 
 ken how it is, but I'm terrible sweer to come awa'. Oh, Mr. 
 Dishart, it's richt true what the doctor says about the — ^the 
 place, but I canna just take it in. I'm — I'm gey auld." 
 
 "You will often get out to see your friends," was all Gavin 
 could say. 
 
 "Na, na, na," she cried, "dinna say that; I'll gang, but 
 you mauna bid me ever come out, except in a hearse. Dinna 
 let onybody in Thrums look on my face again." 
 
 "We must go," said the doctor, firmly. "Put on your 
 mutch, Nanny." 
 
 "I dinna need to put on a mutch," she answered, with a 
 faint flush of pride. "I have a bonnet." 
 
 She took the bonnet from her bed, and put it on slowly. 
 
 "Are you sure there's naebody looking?" she asked. 
 
 The doctor glanced at the minister, and Gavin rose. 
 
 "Let us pray," he said, and the three went down on their 
 knees. 
 
 It was not the custom of Auld Licht ministers to leave 
 any house without offering up a prayer in it, and to us it 
 always seemed that when Gavin prayed, he was at the knees 
 of God. The little minister pouring himself out in prayer 
 in a humble room, with awed people round him who knew 
 much more of the world than he, his voice at times thick 
 and again a squeal, and his hands clasped not gracefully, 
 may have been only a comic figure, but we were old-fash- 
 ioned, and he seemed to make us better men. If I only knew 
 the way, I would draw him as he was. and not fear to make 
 him too mean a man for you to read about. He had not 
 been long in Thrums before he knew that we talked much 
 of his prayers, and that doubtless puffed him up a little. 
 Sometimes. I daresay, h^ rose from his knees feeling that he 
 Iiad prayed well to-day, which is a dreadful charge to bring 
 against any one. But it was not always so, nor was it so 
 now. 
 
 I am not speaking harshly of this man, whom I have loved 
 beyond all others, when I say that Nannie came between 
 him and his prayer. Had he been of God's own image, un-
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 73 
 
 stained, he would have forgotten all else in his Maker's pres- 
 ence, but Nanny was speaking, too, and her words choked 
 his. At first she only whispered, but soon what was eating 
 her heart burst out painfully, and she did not know that the 
 minister had stopped. 
 
 They were such moans as these that brought him back to 
 earth: 
 
 ■'I'll hae to gang . . . I'm a base woman no to be mair 
 thankfu' to them that is so good to me . . .1 dinna like to 
 prig wi' them to take a roundabout road, and I'm sair fleid a' 
 the Roods will see me . . . If it could just be said to poor 
 Sanders when he comes back that I died hurriedly, syne he 
 would be able to baud up his head . . . Oh, mither ! . . . I 
 wish terrible they had come and ta'en me at nicht . . . It's 
 a dog-cart, and I was praying it micht be a cart, so that 
 they could cover me wi' straw." 
 
 "This is more than I can stand," the doctor cried. 
 
 Nanny rose frightened. 
 
 "I've tried you, sair," she said, "but, oh, I'm grateful, and 
 I'm ready now." 
 
 They all advanced towards the door without another word, 
 and Nanny even tried to smile. But in the middle of the 
 floor something came over her, and she stood there. Gavin 
 took her hand, and it was cold. She looked from one to the 
 other, her mouth opening and shutting. 
 
 "I canna help it," she said. 
 
 "It's cruel hard," muttered the doctor. "I knew this 
 woman when she was a lassie." 
 
 The little minister stretched out his hands. 
 
 "Have pity on her, O God !" he prayed, with the pre- 
 sumptuousness of youth. 
 
 Nanny heard the words. 
 
 "Oh, God," she cried, "you micht !" 
 
 God needs no minister to tell Him what to do, but it was 
 His will that the poorhouse should not have this woman. He 
 made use of a strange instrument, no other than the Egyptian. 
 who now opened the mud house door.
 
 74 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SECOND COMING OF THE EGYPTIAN WOMAN. 
 
 The gypsy had been passing the house, perhaps on her way 
 to Thrums for gossip, and it was only curiosity, born sud- 
 denly of Gavin's cry, that made her enter. On finding her- 
 self in unexpected company she retained hold of the door, 
 and to the amazed minister she seemed for a moment to have 
 stepped into the mud house from his garden. Her eyes 
 danced, however, as they recognised him, and then he hard- 
 ened. "This is no place for you," he was saying fiercely, 
 when Nanny, too distraught to think, fell crying at the Egyp- 
 tian's feet. 
 
 "They are taking me to the poorhouse," she sobbed; "dinna 
 let them, dinna let them." 
 
 The Egyptian's arms clasped her, and the Egyptian kissed 
 a sallow cheek that had once been as fair as yours, madam, 
 who may read this story. No one had caressed Nanny for 
 many years, but do you think she was too poor and old to 
 care for these young arms round her neck? There are those 
 who say that women cannot love each other, but it is not true. 
 Woman is not undeveloped man, but something better, and 
 Gavin and the doctor knew it as they saw Nanny clinging to 
 her protector. When the gypsy turned with flashing eyes to 
 the two men she might have been a mother guarding her 
 child. 
 
 "How dare you!" she cried, stamping her foot; and they 
 quaked like malefactors. 
 
 "You don't see — " Gavin began, but her indignation stopped 
 him. 
 
 "You coward !" she said. 
 
 Even the doctor had been impressed, so that he now ad- 
 dressed the gypsy respectfully. 
 
 "This is all very well," he said, "but a woman's sym- 
 pathy — " 
 
 "A woman! — ah, if I could be a man for only five 
 minutes !" 
 
 She clenched her little fists, and again turned to Nanny. 
 
 "You poor dear," she said, tenderly, "I won't let them 
 take you away." 
 
 She looked triumphantly at both minister and doctor, as one 
 who had foiled them in their cruel designs.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 75 
 
 "Go !" she said, pointing grandly to the door. 
 
 "Is this the Egyptian of the riots," the doctor said in a 
 low voice to Gavin, "or is she a queen? Hoots, man, don't 
 look so shamefaced. We are not criminals. Say something." 
 
 Then to the Egyptian Gavin said, firmly: 
 
 "You mean well, but you are doing this poor woman a 
 cruelty in holding out hopes to her that cannot be realised. 
 Sympathy is not meal and bedclothes, and these are what 
 she needs." 
 
 "And you who live in luxury," retorted the girl, "would 
 send her to the poorhouse for them. I thought better of 
 you !" 
 
 "Tuts !" said the doctor, losing patience. "Mr. Dishart 
 gives more than any other man in Thrums to the poor, and 
 he is not to be preached to by a gypsy. We are waiting for 
 you, Nanny." 
 
 "Ay, I'm coming," said Nanny, leaving the Egyptian. "I'll 
 hae to gang, lassie. Dinna greet for me." 
 
 But the Egyptian said, "No, you are not going. It is these 
 men who are going. Go, sirs, and leave us." 
 
 "And you will provide for Nanny?" asked the doctor, con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And where is the siller to come from?" 
 
 "That is my affair, and Nanny's. Begone, both of you. 
 She shall never want again. See how the very mention of 
 your going brings back life to her face." 
 
 "I won't begone," the doctor said, roughly, "till I see the 
 colour of your siller." 
 
 "Oh, the money," said the Egyptian, scornfully. She put 
 her hand into her pocket confidently, as if used to well-filled 
 purses, but could only draw out two silver pieces. 
 
 "I had forgotten," she said aloud, though speaking to her- 
 self. 
 
 "I thought so," said the cynical doctor. "Come, Nanny." 
 
 "You presume to doubt me !" the Egyptian said, blocking 
 his way to the door. 
 
 "How could I presume to believe you?" he answered. "You 
 are a beggar by profession, and yet talk as if — pooh, non- 
 sense." 
 
 "I would live on terrible little," Nanny whispered, "and 
 Sanders will be out again in August month." 
 
 "Seven shillings a week," rapped out the doctor. 
 
 "Is that all?" the Egyptian asked. "She shall have it."
 
 76 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "At once. No, it is not possible to-night, but to-morrow 
 I will bring five pounds ; no, I will send it ; no, you must 
 come for it." 
 
 "And where, O daughter of Dives, do you reside?" the 
 doctor asked. 
 
 No doubt the Egyptian could have found a ready answer 
 had her pity for Nanny been less sincere; as it was she 
 hesitated, wanting to propitiate the doctor, while holding her 
 secret fast. 
 
 "I only asked," McQueen said, eyeing her curiously, "be- 
 cause when I make an appointment I like to know where it 
 is to be held. But I suppose you are suddenly to rise out 
 of the ground as you have done to-day, and did six weeks 
 ago." 
 
 "Wliether I rise out of the ground or not," the gj'psy 
 said, keeping her temper with an effort, "there will be a 
 five-pound note in my hand. You will meet me to-morrow 
 about this hour at — say the Kaims of Cushie?" 
 
 "No," said the doctor, after a moment's pause ; "I won't. 
 Even if I went to the Kaims I should not find you there. 
 Why can you not come to me?" 
 
 "Why do you carry a woman's hair," replied the Egyptian, 
 "in that locket on your chain?" 
 
 Whether she was speaking of what she knew, or this was 
 only a chance shot, I cannot tell, but the doctor stepped back 
 from her hastily, and could not help looking down at the 
 locket. 
 
 "Yes," said the Egyptian, calmly, "it is still shut; but why 
 do you sometimes open it at nights ?" 
 
 "Lassie," the old doctor cried, "are you a witch?" 
 
 "Perhaps," she said; "but I ask for no answer to my 
 questions. If you have your secrets, why may I not have 
 mine? Now will you meet me at the Kaims?" 
 
 "No; I distrust 3'ou more than ever. Even if you came, it 
 would be to play with me as you have done already. How 
 can a vagrant have five pounds in her pocket when she 
 does not have five shillmgs on her back?" 
 
 "You are a cruel, hard man," the Egyptian said, beginning 
 to lose hope. "But, see," she cried, brightening, "look at 
 this ring. Do you know its value?" 
 
 She held up her finger, but the stone would not live in 
 the dull light. 
 
 "I see it is gold," the doctor said, cautiously, and she
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 77 
 
 smiled at the ignorance that made him look only at the 
 frame. 
 
 "Certainly, it is gold," said Gavin, equally stupid. 
 
 "Mercy on us!" Nanny cried; "I believe it's what they 
 call a diamond." 
 
 '"How did you come by it?" the doctor asked, suspiciously. 
 
 "I thought we had agreed not to ask each other questions," 
 the Egyptian answered, drily. "But, see, I will give it to 
 you to hold in hostage. If I am not at the Kaims to get it 
 back you can keep it." 
 
 The doctor took the ring in his hand and examined it curi- 
 ously. 
 
 "There is a quirk in this," he said at last, "that I don't 
 like. Take back your ring, lassie. Mr. Dishart, give Nanny 
 your arm, and I'll carry her box to the machine." 
 
 Now all this time Gavin had been in the dire distress of 
 a man possessed of two minds, of which one said, "This is a 
 true woman," and the other, "Remember the seventeenth of 
 October." They were at war within him, and he knew that 
 he must take a side, yet no sooner had he cast one out than 
 he invited it back. He did not answer the doctor. 
 
 "Unless," McQueen said, nettled by his hesitation, "you 
 trust this woman's word." 
 
 Gavin tried honestly to weigh those two minds against 
 each other, but could not prevent impulse jumping into one 
 of the scales. 
 
 "You do trust me," the Egyptian said, with wet eyes; and 
 now that he looked on her again — 
 
 "Yes," he said, firmly, "I trust you," and the words that 
 had been so difficult to say were the right words. He had 
 no more doubt of it. 
 
 "Just think a moment first," the doctor warned him. "I 
 decline to have anything to do with this matter. You will 
 go to the Kaims for the siller?" 
 
 "If it is necessary," said Gavin. 
 
 "It is necessary." the Egyptian said. 
 
 "Then I will go." 
 
 Nanny took his hand timidly, and would have kissed it 
 had he been less than a minister. 
 
 "You dare not, man," the doctor said, grufifly, "make an 
 appointment with this gypsy. Think of what will be said in 
 Thrums." 
 
 I honour Gavin for the way in which he took this warning. 
 For him, who was watched from the rising of his con-
 
 78 THE LITTLE ^MINISTER 
 
 gregation to their lying down, whose every movement was 
 expected to be a text to Thrums, it was no small thing 
 that he had promised. This he knew, but he only reddened 
 because the doctor had implied an offensive thing in a 
 woman's presence. 
 
 "You forget yourself, doctor," he said, sharply. 
 
 "Send some one in your place," advised the doctor, who 
 liked the little minister. 
 
 "He must come himself and alone," said the Egyptian. 
 "You must both give me your promise not to mention who 
 is Nanny's friend, and she must promise, too." 
 
 "Well," said the doctor, buttoning up his coat, "I cannot 
 keep my horse freezing any longer. Remember, Mr. Dishart, 
 you take the sole responsibility of this." 
 
 "I do," said Gavin, "and with the utmost confidence." 
 
 "Give him the ring then, lassie," said McQueen. 
 
 She handed the minister the ring, but he would not take it. 
 
 "I have your word," he said; "that is sufifiicient." 
 
 Then the Egyptian gave him the first look that he could 
 think of afterwards without misgivings. 
 
 "So be it," said the doctor. "Get the money, and I will 
 say nothing about it, unless I have reason to think that it 
 has been dishonestly come by. Don't look so frightened at 
 me, Nanny. I hope for your sake that her stocking- foot is 
 full of gold." 
 
 "Surely it's worth risking," Nanny said, not very brightly, 
 "when the minister's on her side." 
 
 "Ay, but on whose side, Nanny?" asked the doctor. "Las- 
 sie, I bear you no grudge; will you not tell me who yoa 
 are?" 
 
 "Only a puir gypsy, your honour," said the girl, becoming 
 mischievous, now that she had gained her point ; "only a 
 wandering hallen-shaker, and will I tell you your fortune, 
 my pretty gentleman?" 
 
 "No, you sha'n't," replied the doctor, plunging his hands 
 so hastily into his pockets that Gavin laughed. 
 
 "I don't need to look at your hand," said the gypsy, "I 
 can read your fortune In your face." 
 
 She looked at him fixedly, so that he fidgeted. 
 
 "I see you," said the Egyptian in a sepulchral voice, and 
 speaking slowly, "become very frail. Your eyesight has al- 
 most gone. You are sitting alone in a cauld room, cooking 
 your ain dinner ower a feeble fire. The soot is falling down 
 the lum. Your bearish manners towards women have driven
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 79 
 
 the servant lassie frae your house, and your wife beats 
 you." 
 
 "Ay, you spoil your prophecy there," the doctor said, con- 
 siderably relieved, "for I'm not married; my pipe's the only 
 wife I ever had." 
 
 "You will be married by that time," continued the Egyptian, 
 frowning at this interruption, "for I see your wife. She is 
 a shrew. She marries you in your dotage. She lauchs at you 
 in company. She doesna allow you to smoke." 
 
 "Away with you, you jade," cried the doctor, in a fury, 
 and feeling nervously for his pipe. "Mr. Dishart, you had 
 better stay and arrange this matter as you choose, but I want 
 a word with you outside." 
 
 "And you're no angry wi' me, doctor, are you?" asked 
 Nanny, wistfully. "You've been richt good to me, but I 
 canna thole the thocht o' that place. And, oh, doctor, you 
 winna tell naebody that I was so near ta'en to it?" 
 
 In the garden McQueen said to Gavin : 
 
 "You may be right, Mr. Dishart, in this matter, for there 
 is this in our favour, that the woman can gain nothing 
 by tricking us. She did seem to feel for Nanny. But who 
 can she be? You saw she could put on and off the Scotch 
 tongue as easily as if it were a cap." 
 
 "She is as much a mystery to me as to you," Gavin an- 
 swered, "but she will give me the money, and that is all I 
 ask of her." 
 
 "Ay, that remains to be seen. But take care of yourself; 
 a man's second childhood begins when a woman gets hold of 
 him." 
 
 "Don't alarm yourself about me, doctor. I daresay she 
 is only one of those gypsies from the South. They are said 
 to be wealthy, many of them, and even, when they like, to 
 have a grand manner. The Thrums people had no doubt 
 but that she was what she seemed to be." 
 
 "Ay, but what does she seem to be? Even that puzzles 
 me. And then there is this mystery about her which she 
 admits herself, though perhaps only to play with us." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Gavin, "she is only taking precautions 
 against her discovery by the police. You must remember 
 her part in the riots." 
 
 "Yes, but we never learned how she was able to play that 
 part. Besides, there is no fear in her, or she would not have 
 ventured back to Thrums. However, good luck attend you. 
 But be wary. You saw how she kept her feet among her
 
 80 THE LITTLE MmiSTER 
 
 shalls and wills? Never trust a Scotch man or woman who 
 does not come to grief among them." 
 
 The doctor took his seat in the dog-cart. 
 
 "And, Mr. Dishart," he called out, "that was all nonsense 
 about the locket." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE MINISTER DANCES TO THE WOMAN's PIPING. 
 
 Gavin let the doctor's warnings fall in the grass. In his 
 joy over Nanny's deliverance he jumped the garden gate, 
 whose hinges were of yarn, and cleverly caught his hat as it 
 was leaving his head in protest. He then reentered the mud 
 house staidly. Pleasant was the change. Nanny's home was 
 as a clock that had been run out, and is set going again. 
 Already the old woman was unpacking her box, to increase 
 the distance between herself and the poorhouse. But Gavin 
 only saw her in the background, for the Egyptian, singing at 
 her work, had become the heart of the house. She had flung 
 her shawl over Nanny's shoulders, and was at the fireplace 
 breaking peats with the leg of a stool. She turned merrily 
 to the minister to ask him to chop up his staff for firewood, 
 and he would have answered wittily but could not. Then, 
 as often, the beauty of the Egyptian surprised him into 
 silence. 
 
 "Nanny and I are to have a dish of tea, as soon as we 
 have set things to rights," she told him. "Do you think 
 we should invite the minister, Nanny?" 
 
 "We couldna dare," Nanny answered, quickly. "You'll 
 excuse her, Mr. Dishart, for the presumption?" 
 
 "Presumption !" said the Egyptian, making a face. 
 
 "Lassie," Nanny said, fearful to offend her new friend, 
 yet horrified at this affront to the minister, "I ken you mean 
 weel, but Mr. Dishart'U think you're putting yoursel' on 
 an equality wi' him." She added in a whisper, "Dinna be so 
 free; he's the Auld Licht minister." 
 
 The gypsy bowed with mock awe, but Gavin let it pass. 
 He had, indeed, forgotten that he was anybody in particular, 
 and was anxious to stay to tea. 
 
 "But there is no water," he remembered, "and is there 
 any tea?"
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 81 
 
 "I am going out for them and for some other things," 
 the Egyptian explained. "But no," she continued, reflectively, 
 "if I go for the tea, you must go for the water." 
 
 "Lassie," cried Nanny, "mind wha you're speaking to. To 
 send a minister to the well !" 
 
 "I will go," said Gavin, recklessly lifting the pitcher. 
 "The well is in the wood, I think?" 
 
 "Gie me the pitcher, Mr. Dishart," said Nanny, in dis- 
 tress. "What a town there would be if you was seen wi't !" 
 
 "Then he must remain here and keep the house till we 
 come back," said the Egyptian, and thereupon departed, with 
 a friendly wave of her hand to the minister. 
 
 "She's an awfu' lassie," Nanny said, apologetically, "but 
 it'll just be the way she has been brought up." 
 
 "She has been very good to you, Nanny." 
 
 "She has ; leastwise she promises to be. Mr. Dishart, she's 
 awa' ; what if she doesna come back?" 
 
 Nanny spoke nervously, and Gavin drew a long face. 
 
 "I think she will," he said, faintly. "I am confident of 
 it," he added, in the same voice. 
 
 "And has she the siller ?" 
 
 "I believe in her," said Gavin, so doggedly that his own 
 words reassured him. "She has an excellent heart. 
 
 "I suppose she'll gie you the money," she said, "and syne 
 you'll gie me the seven shillings a week?" 
 
 'That seems the best plan," Gavin answered. 
 
 Her mind relieved on this matter, the old woman set off 
 for the well. 
 
 Gavin returned to the fife and watched a girl in it in 
 an' officer's cloak playing at hide-and-seek with soldiers. 
 After a time he sighed, then looked round sharply to see 
 who had sighed, then, absent-mindedly, lifted the empty kettle 
 and placed it on the glowing peats. He was standing glaring 
 at the kettle, his arms folded, when Namiy returned from the 
 well. 
 
 "I've been thinking," she said, "o' something that proves 
 the lassie to be just an Egyptian. Ay, I noticed she wasna 
 nane awed when I said you was the Auld Licht minister. 
 Weel, I'se uphaud that came frae her living ower muckle 
 in the open air. Is there no' a smell o' burning in 
 the house?" 
 
 "I have noticed it," Gavin answered, sniffing, "since you 
 came in. I was busy until then, putting on the kettle. The 
 smell is becoming worse."
 
 82 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 Nanny had seen the empty kettle on the fire as he began 
 to speak, and so solved the mystery. Her first thought was 
 to snatch the kettle out of the blaze, but remembering who 
 had put it there, she dared not. She sidled towards the 
 hearth instead, and saying, craftily, "Ay, here it is; it's a 
 clout among the peats," softly laid the kettle on the earthen 
 floor. It was still red with sparks, however, when the gypsy 
 reappeared. 
 
 "Who burned the kettle?" she asked, ignoring Nanny's 
 signs. 
 
 "Lassie," Nanny said, "it was me;" but Gavin, flushing, 
 confessed his guilt. 
 
 "Oh, you stupid !" exclaimed the Egyptian, shaking her 
 two ounces of tea (which then cost six shillings the pound) 
 in his face. 
 
 At this Nanny wrung her hands, crying, "That's waur 
 than swearing." 
 
 "If men," said the gypsy, severely, "would keep their hands 
 in their pockets all day, the world's affairs would be more 
 easily managed." 
 
 "Wheesht!" cried Nanny, "if Mr. Dishart cared to set 
 his mind to it, he could make the kettle boil quicker than 
 you or me. But his thochts is on higher things." 
 
 "No higher than this," retorted the gypsy, holding her 
 hand level with her brow. "Confess, Mr. Dishart, that this 
 is the exact height of what you were thinking about. See, 
 Nanny, he is blushing as if I meant that he had been thinking 
 about me. He cannot answer, Nanny; we have found 
 him out." 
 
 "And kindly of him it is no to answer," said Nanny, who 
 had been examining the gypsy's various purchases; "for what 
 could he answer, except that he would need to be sure o' 
 living a thousand years afore he could spare five minutes 
 on you or me? Of course, it would be different if we sat 
 under him." 
 
 "And yet," said the Egyptian, with great solemnity, "he 
 is to drink tea at that very table. I hope you are sensible 
 of the honour, Nanny." 
 
 "Am I no?" said Nanny, whose education had not included 
 sarcasm. "I'm trying to keep frae thinking o't till he's gone, 
 in case I should let the teapot fall." 
 
 "You have nothing to thank me for, Nanny," said Gavin, 
 ''but much for which to thank this — this — " 
 
 "This haggarty-taggarty Egyptian," suggested the girl.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 83 
 
 Then, looking at Gavin curiously, she said, "But my name 
 is Babbie." 
 
 "That's short for Barbara," said Nanny; "but Babbie 
 what ?" 
 
 "Yes, Babbie Watt," replied the gypsy, as if one name 
 were as good as another. 
 
 "Weel, then, lift the lid off the kettle. Babbie," said Nanny, 
 "for it's boiling ower." 
 
 Gavin looked at Nanny with admiration and envy, for she 
 had said Babbie as coolly as if it was the name of a pepper- 
 box. 
 
 Babbie tucked up her sleeves to wash Nanny's cups and 
 saucers, which even in the most prosperous days of the 
 mud house had only been in use once a week, and Gavin was 
 so eager to help that he bumped his head on the plate-rack. 
 
 "Sit there," said Babbie, authoritatively, pointing, with a 
 cup in her hand, to a stool, "and don't rise till I give you 
 permission." 
 
 To Nanny's amazement, he did as he was bid. 
 
 "I got the things in the little shop you told me of," the 
 Egyptian continued, addressing the mistress of the house, 
 "but the horrid man would not give them to me until he 
 had seen my money." 
 
 "Enoch would be suspicious o' you," Nanny explained, "you 
 being an Egyptian." 
 
 "Ah," said Babbie, with a side glance at the minister, "I 
 am onlv an Egyptian. Is that why you dislike me, Mr. 
 Dishart'?" 
 
 Gavin hesitated foolishly over his answer, and the Egyp- 
 tian, with a towel round her waist, made a pretty gesture 
 of despair. 
 
 "He neither likes you nor dislikes you," Nanny explained; 
 "you forget he's a minister." 
 
 "That is what I cannot endure," said Babbie, putting the 
 towel to her eyes, "to be neither liked nor disliked. Please 
 hate me, Mr. Dishart, if you cannot lo — ove me." 
 
 Her face was behind the towel, and Gavin could not 
 decide whether it was the face or the towel that shook with 
 agitation. He gave Nanny a look that asked, "Is she really 
 crying?" and Nanny telegraphed back, "I question it." 
 
 "Come, come," said the minister, gallantly, "I did not say 
 that I disliked you." 
 
 Even this desperate compliment had not the desired effect, 
 for the gypsy continued to sob behind her screen.
 
 84 THE LITTLE ^MINISTER 
 
 "I can honestly say," went on Gavin, as solemnly as if 
 making a statement in a court of justice, "that I like you." 
 
 Then the Egyptian let drop her towel, and replied, with 
 equal solemnity : 
 
 "Oh, tank oo ! Nanny, the minister says me is a dood 
 'ittle dirl." 
 
 "He didna gang that length," said Nanny, sharply, to cover 
 Gavin's confusion. "Set the things. Babbie, and I'll make 
 the tea." 
 
 The Egyptian obeyed demurely, pretending to wipe hef 
 eyes every time Gavin looked at her. He frowned at this, 
 and then she affected to be too overcome to go on with her 
 work. 
 
 "Tell me, Nanny," she asked, presently, "what sort of 
 man this Enoch is, from whom I bought the things?" 
 
 "He is not very regular, I fear," answered Gavin, who 
 felt that he had sat silent and self-conscious on his stool too 
 long. 
 
 "Do you mean that he drinks?" asked Babbie. 
 
 "No, I mean regular in his attendance." 
 
 The Egyptian's face showed no enlightenment. 
 
 "His attendance at church," Gavin explained. 
 
 "He's far frae it," said Nanny, "and as a body kens, Joe 
 Cruickshanks, the atheist, has the wite o' that. The scoun- 
 drel telled Enoch that the great ministers in Edinbury and 
 London believed in no hell except sic as your ain conscience 
 made for you, and ever since syne Enoch has been careless 
 about the future state." 
 
 *'Ah," said Babbie, waving the Church aside, "what I 
 want to know is whether he is a single man." 
 
 "He is not," Gavin replied, "but why do you want to 
 know that?" 
 
 "Because single men are such gossips. I am sorry he is 
 not single, as I want him to repeat to everybody what I tola 
 him." 
 
 "Trust him to tell Susy," said Nanny, "and Susy to tell 
 the town." 
 
 "His wife is a gossip?" 
 
 "Ay, she's aye tonguing, especially about her teeth. They're 
 folk wi' siller, and she has a set o' false teeth. It's fair 
 scumfishing to hear her blawing about thae teeth, she's so 
 fleid we dinna ken that they're false." 
 
 Nanny had spoken jealously, but suddenly she trembled 
 with apprehension.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 85 
 
 "Babbie," she cried, "you didna speak about the poorhouse 
 to Enoch ?" 
 
 The Egyptian shook her head, though of the poorhouse 
 she had been forced to speak, for Enoch, having seen the 
 doctor going home alone, insisted on knowing why. 
 
 "But I knew," the gypsy said, "that the Thrums people 
 would be very unhappy until they discovered where you 
 get the money I am to give you, and as that is a secret, I 
 hinted to Enoch that your benefactor is Mr. Dishart." 
 
 "You should not have said that," interposed Gavin. "I 
 cannot foster such a deception." 
 
 "They will foster it without your help,'* the Egyptian 
 said. "Besides, if you choose, you can say you get the money 
 from a friend." 
 
 "Ay, you can say that," Nanny entreated with such eager- 
 ness that Babbie remarked, a little bitterly: 
 
 "There is no fear of Nanny's telling any one that the 
 friend is a gypsy girl." 
 
 "Na, na," agreed Nanny, again losing Babbie's sarcasm. 
 "I winna let on. It's so queer to be befriended by an 
 Egyptian." 
 
 'Tt is scarcely respectable," Babbie said. 
 
 "It's no," answered simple Nanny. 
 
 I suppose Nanny's unintentional cruelty did hurt Babbie 
 as much as Gavin thought. She winced, and her face had 
 two expressions, the one cynical, the other pained. Her 
 mouth curled as if to tell the minister that gratitude was 
 nothing to her, but her eyes had to struggle to keep back 
 a tear. Gavin was touched, and she saw it, and for a mo- 
 ment they were two people who understood each other. 
 
 "I, at least," Gavin said, in a low voice, "will know who 
 is the benefactress, and think none the worse of her because 
 she is a gypsy." 
 
 At this Babbie smiled gratefully to him, and then both 
 laughed, for they had heard Nanny remarking to the kettle, 
 "But I wouldna hae been nane angry if she had telled Enoch 
 that the minister was to take his tea here. Susy'll no believe't 
 though 1 tell her, as tell her I will." 
 
 To Nanny the table now presented a rich appearance, for 
 besides the teapot there were butter and loaf-bread and 
 cheesies : a biscuit of w^iich only Thrums knows the secret. 
 
 "Draw in your chair, Mr. Dishart," she said, in suppressed 
 excitement. 
 ■ "Yes," said Babbie, "you take this chair, Mr. Dishartj
 
 86 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 and Nanny will have that one, and I can sit humbly on the 
 stool." 
 
 But Nanny held up her hands in horror. 
 
 "Keep us a'!" she exclaimed; "the lassie thinks her and 
 me is to sit down wi' the minister ! We're no to gang that 
 length, Babbie; we're just to stand and serve him, and syne 
 we'll sit down when he has risen." 
 
 "Delightful !" said Babbie, clapping her hands. "Nannie, 
 you kneel on that side of him, and I will kneel on this. You 
 will hold the butter and I the biscuits." 
 
 But Gavin, as this girl was always forgetting, was a lord 
 of creation. 
 
 "Sit down both of you at once!" he thundered. "I com- 
 mand you." 
 
 Then the two women fell into their seats, — Nanny in terror 
 Babbie affecting it. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE MINISTER BEWITCHED SECOND SERMON AGAINST WOMEN. 
 
 To Nanny it was a dizzying experience to sit at the head 
 of her own table, and, with assumed calmness, invite the 
 minister not to spare the loaf-bread. Babbie's prattle, and 
 even Gavin's answers, were but an indistinct noise to her, to 
 be as little regarded, in the excitement of watching whether 
 Mr. Dishart noticed that there was a knife for the butter, as 
 the music of the river by a man who is catching trout. Every 
 time Gavin's cup went to his lips Nanny calculated (cor- 
 rectly) how much he had drunk, and yet, when the right 
 moment arrived, she asked in the English voice that is fash- 
 ionable at ceremonies, "if his cup was toom." 
 
 Perhaps it was well that Nanny had these matters to 
 engross her, for though Gavin spoke freely, he was saying 
 nothing of lasting value, and some of his remarks to the 
 Egyptian, if preserved for the calmer contemplation of the 
 morrow, might have seemed frivolous to himself. Usually 
 his observations were scrambled for, like ha'pence at a wed- 
 ding, but to-day they were only for one person. Infected 
 by the Egyptian's high spirits, Gavin had laid aside the min- 
 ister with his hat, and what was left was only a young man. 
 He who had stamped his feet at thought of a soldier's cloak 
 now wanted to be reminded of it. Tlae little minister, who
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 87 
 
 used to address himself in terms of scorn every time he 
 wasted an hour, was at present dallying with a teaspoon. 
 He even laughed boisterously, flinging back his head, and 
 little knew that behind Nanny's smiling face was a terrible 
 dread, because his chair had once given way before. 
 
 Even though our thoughts are not with our company, the 
 mention of our name is a bell to which we usually answer. 
 Hearing hers, Nanny started. 
 
 "You can tell me, Nanny," the Egyptian had said, with 
 an arch look at the minister. "Oh, Nanny, for shame ! How 
 can you expect to follow our conversation when you only 
 listen to Mr. Dishart?" 
 
 "She is saying, Nanny," Gavin broke in, almost gaily for 
 a minister, "that she saw me recently wearing a cloak. 
 You know I have no such thing." 
 
 "Na," Nanny answered, artlessly, "you have just the thin 
 brown coat wi' the braid round it, forby the ane you have 
 on the now." 
 
 "You see," Gavin said to Babbie, "I could not have a new 
 neckcloth, not to speak of a cloak, without everybody in 
 Thrums knowing about it. I dare say Nanny knows all about 
 the braid, and even what it cost." 
 
 "Three bawbees the yard at Kyowowy's shop," replied 
 Nanny, promptly, "and your mother sewed it on, Sam'l 
 Fairweather has the marrows o't on his top-coat. No that 
 it has the same look on him." 
 
 "Nevertheless," Babbie persisted, "I am sure the minister 
 has a cloak; but perhaps he is ashamed of it. No doubt it 
 is hidden away in the garret." 
 
 "Na, we would hae kent o't if it was there," said Nanny. 
 
 "But it may be in a chest, and the chest may be locked," 
 the Egyptian suggested. 
 
 "Ay, but the kist in the garret isna locked," Nanny an- 
 swered. 
 
 "How do you get to know all these things, Nanny?" asked 
 Gavin, sighing. 
 
 "Your congregation tells me. Naebody would lay by news 
 about a minister." 
 
 "But how do they know?" 
 
 "I dinna ken. They just find out, because they're so fond 
 o' you." 
 
 "I hope they will never become so fond of me as that," 
 said Babbie. "Still, Nanny, the minister's cloak is hidden 
 somewhere."
 
 88 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "Losh, what would make him hod it?" demanded the 
 old woman, "Folk that has cloaks doesna bury them in 
 boxes." 
 
 At the word "bury" Gavin's hand fell on the table, and 
 he returned to Nanny apprehensively. 
 
 "That would depend on how the cloak was got," said the 
 cruel Egyptian. "If it was not his own — ■" 
 
 "Lassie," cried Nanny, "behave yoursel'." 
 
 "Or if he found it in his possession against his will?" 
 suggested Gavin, slyly. "He might have got it from some 
 one who picked it up cheap." 
 
 "From his wife, for instance," said Babbie, whereupon 
 Gavin suddenly became interested in the floor. 
 
 "Ay, ay, the minister was hitting at you there, Babbie," 
 Nanny explained, "for the way you made off wi' the cap- 
 tain's cloak. The Thrums folk wonder less at your taking 
 it than at your no keeping it. It's said to be michty grand." 
 
 "It was rather like the one the minister's wife gave him," 
 said Babbie. 
 
 "The minister has neither a wife nor a cloak," retorted 
 Nanny. 
 
 "He isn't married?" asked Babbie, the picture of in- 
 credulity. 
 
 Nanny gathered from the minister's face that he deputed 
 to her the task of enlightening this ignorant girl, so she re- 
 plied, with emphasis, "Na, they hinna got him yet, and I'm 
 cheated if it doesna tak them all their time." 
 
 Thus do the best of women sell their sex for nothing. 
 
 "I did wonder," said the Egyptian, gravely, "at any 
 mere woman's daring to marry such a minister." 
 
 "Ay," replied Nanny, spiritesdly, "but there's dauring 
 limmers wherever there's a single man." 
 
 "So I have often suspected," said Babbie, duly shocked. 
 "But, Nanny, I was told the minister had a wife, by one 
 who said he saw her." 
 
 "He lied, then," answered Nanny, turning to Gavin for 
 further instructions. 
 
 "But, see, the minister does not deny the horrid charge 
 himself." 
 
 "No, and for the reason he didna deny the cloak : be- 
 cause it's no worth his while. I'll tell you wha your friend 
 had seen. It would be somebody that would like to be 
 Mrs. Dishart. There's a hantle o' that kind. Ay, lassie, 
 but wishing winna land a woman in a manse."
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 89 
 
 "It was one of the soldiers," Babbie said, "who told me 
 about her. He said Mr. Dishart introduced her to him." 
 
 "Sojers!" cried Nanny. "I could never thole the name 
 o' them. Sanders in his young days hankered after joining 
 them, and so he would, if it hadna been for the fechting. 
 Ay, and now they've ta'en him awa to the gaol, and sworn 
 lies about him. Dinna put any faith in sojers, lassie." 
 
 "I was told," Babbie went on, "that the minister's wife 
 was rather like me." 
 
 "Heaven forbid!" ejaculated Nanny, so fervently that all 
 three suddenly sat back from the table. 
 
 "I'm no meaning," Nanny continued, hurriedly, fearing to 
 offend her benefactress, "but what you're the bonniest tid 
 I ever saw out o' an almanack. But you would ken Mr. 
 Dishart's contempt for bonny faces if you had heard his 
 sermon against them. I didna hear it mysel', for I'm no 
 Auld Licht, but it did the work o' the town for an aucht 
 days." 
 
 If Nanny had not taken her eyes off Gavin for the mo- 
 ment she would have known that he was now anxious to 
 change the topic. Babbie saw it, and became suspicious. 
 
 "When did he preach against the wiles of women, Nanny ?" 
 
 "It was long ago," said Gavin, hastily. 
 
 "No so very lang syne," corrected Nanny. It was the 
 Sabbath after the sojers was in Thrums; the day you 
 changed your text so hurriedly. Some thocht you wasna 
 weel, but Lang Tammas — " 
 
 "Thomas Whamond is too officious," Gavin said, with dig- 
 nity. "I forbid you, Nanny, to repeat his story." 
 
 "But what made you change your text ?" asked Babbie, 
 
 "You see he winna tell," Nanny said, wistfully. "Ay, 
 I dinna deny but what I would like richt to ken. But the 
 session's as puzzled as yoursel', Babbie." 
 
 "Perhaps more puzzled," answered the Egyptian, with a 
 smile that challenged Gavin's frowns to combat and over- 
 throw them. "What surprises me, Mr. Dishart, is that such 
 a great man can stoop to see whether women are pretty or 
 not. It was very good of you to remember me to-day. I 
 suppose you recognised me by my frock?" 
 
 "By your face," he replied, boldly; "by your eyes." 
 
 "Nanny," exclaimed the Egyptian, "did you hear what 
 the minister said?" 
 
 "Woe is me," answered Nanny, "I missed it." 
 
 "He says he would know me anywhere by my eyes."
 
 90 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "So would I myselV' said Nanny. 
 
 ''Then what colour are they, Mr. Dishart?" demanded 
 Babbie. "Don't speak, Nanny, for I want to expose him." 
 
 She closed her eyes tightly. Gavin was in a quandary. 
 I suppose he had looked at her eyes too long to know 
 much about them. 
 
 "Blue," he guessed at last. 
 
 "Na, they're black," said Nanny, who had doubtless 
 known this for an hour. I am always marvelling over the 
 cleverness of women, as every one must see who reads this 
 story. 
 
 "No but what they micht be blue in some lichts," Nanny 
 added, out of respect to the minister. 
 
 "Oh, don't defend him, Nanny," said Babbie, looking 
 reproachfully at Gavin. "I don't see that any minister has a 
 right to denounce women, when he is so ignorant of his 
 subject. I will say it, Nanny, and you need not kick me 
 beneath the table." 
 
 Was not all this intoxicating to the little minister, who 
 had never till now met a girl on equal terms? At twenty- 
 one a man is a musical instrument given to the other sex, 
 but it is not as instruments learned at school, for when 
 She sits down to it, she cannot tell what tune she is about 
 to play. That is because she has no notion of what the 
 instrument is capable. Babbie's kind-heartedness, her 
 gaiety, her coquetry, her moments of sadness, had been a 
 witch's fingers, and Gavin was still trembling under their 
 touch. Even in being taken to task by her there was a 
 charm, for every pout of her mouth, every shake of her 
 head, said, "You like me, and therefore you have given 
 me the right to tease you." Men sign these agreements 
 without reading them. But, indeed, man is a stupid animal 
 at the best, and thinks all his life that he did not propose until 
 he blurted out, "I love you." 
 
 It was later than it should have been when the minister 
 left the mud house, and even then he only put on his hat 
 because Babbie said that she must go. 
 
 "But not your way," she added. "I go into the wood 
 and vanish. You know, Nanny, I live up a tree." 
 
 "Dinna say that," said Nanny, anxiously, "or I'll be 
 fleid about the siller." 
 
 "Don't fear about it. Mr, Dishart will get some of it to- 
 morrow at the Kaims. I would bring it here, but I cannot 
 come so far to-morrow."
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 91 
 
 "Then I'll hae peace to the end o' my days," said the 
 old woman, "and. Babbie, I wish the same to you wi' all 
 my heart." 
 
 "Ah," Babbie replied, mournfully, "I have read my for- 
 tune, Nanny, and there is not much happiness in it." 
 
 "I hope that is not true," Gavin said, simply. 
 
 They were standing at the door, and she was looking to- 
 wards the hill, perhaps without seeing it. All at once 
 it came to Gavin that this fragile girl might have a history 
 far sadder and more turbulent than his. 
 
 "Do you really care ?" she asked, without looking at him. 
 
 "Yes," he said, stoutly, "I care." 
 
 "Because you do not know me," she said. 
 
 "Because I do know you," he answered. 
 
 Now she did look at him. 
 
 "I believe," she said, making a discovery, "that you mis- 
 understand me less than those who have known me longer." 
 
 This was a perilous confidence, for it at once made 
 Gavin say "Babbie." 
 
 "Ah," she answered, frankly, "I am glad to hear that. 
 I thought you did not really like me, because you never 
 called me by my name." 
 
 Gavin drew a great breath. 
 
 "That was not the reason," he said. 
 
 The reason was now unmistakable. 
 
 "I was wrong," said the Egyptian, a little alarmed; "you 
 do not understand me at all." 
 
 She returned to Nanny, and Gavin set off, holding his 
 head high, his brain in a whirl. Five minutes afterwards, 
 when Nanny was at the fire, the diamond ring on her little 
 finger, he came back, looking like one who had just seen 
 sudden death. 
 
 "I had forgotten," he said, with a fierceness aimed at 
 himself, "that to-morrow is the Sabbath." 
 
 "Need that make any difference?" asked the gypsy. 
 
 "At this hour on Monday," said Gavin hoarsely, "I will 
 be at the Kaims." 
 
 He went away without another word, and Babbie watched 
 him from the window. Nanny had not looked up from 
 the ring. 
 
 "What a pity he is a minister!" the girl said, reflectively. 
 "Nanny, you are not listening." 
 
 The old woman was making the ring flash by the light 
 of the fire.
 
 92 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "Nanny, do you hear me? Did you see Mr. Dishart 
 come back ?" 
 
 "I heard the door open," Nanny answered, without taking 
 her greedy eyes off the ring. "Was it him? Whaur did you 
 get this, lassie?" 
 
 "Give it me back, Nanny, I am going now." 
 
 But Nanny did not give it back; she put her other hand 
 over it to guard it, and there she crouched, warming her- 
 self, not at the fire, but at the ring. 
 
 "Give it me, Nanny." 
 
 "It winna come off my finger." She gloated over it, 
 nursed it, kissed it. 
 
 "I must have it, Nanny." 
 
 The Egyptian put her hand lightly on the old woman's 
 shoulder, and Nanny jumped up, pressing the ring to her 
 bosom. Her face had become cunning and ugly; she re- 
 treated into a corner. 
 
 "Nanny, give me back my ring or I will take it from 
 you." 
 
 The cruel light of the diamond was in Nanny's eyes for 
 a moment, and then, shuddering, she said, "Tak your ring 
 awa, tak it out o' my sicht." 
 
 In the meantime Gavin was trudging home gloomily com- 
 posing his second sermon against women. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CONTINUED MISBEHAVIOUR OF THE EGYPTIAN WOMAN. 
 
 By the following Monday it was known at many looms 
 that something sat heavily on the Auld Licht minister's mind. 
 On the previous day he had preached his second sermon 
 of warning to susceptible young men, and his first men- 
 tion of the word "woman" had blown even the sleepy heads 
 upright. Now he had salt fish for breakfast, and on clear- 
 ing the table Jean noticed that his knife and fork were 
 uncrossed. He was observed walking into a gooseberry- 
 bush by Susy Linn, who possessed the pioneer spring-bed 
 of Thrums, and always knew when her man jumped into 
 it by suddenly finding herself shot to the ceiling. Lunan, 
 the tinsmith, and two women, who had the luck to be in 
 the street at the time, saw him stopping at Doctor McQueen's
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 93 
 
 door, as if about to knock, and then turning smartly 
 away. 
 
 Gavin, indeed, was troubled. He had avoided speaking 
 of the Egyptian to his mother. He had gone to McQueen's 
 house to ask the doctor to accompany him to the Kaims, 
 but, with the knocker in his hand, he changed his mind, 
 and now he was at the place of meeting, alone. It was 
 a 3ay of thaw, nothing to be heard from a distance but 
 the swish of curling-stones through water on Rashie-bog, 
 where the match for the eldership was going on. Around 
 him, Gavin saw only dejected firs, with drops of water falling 
 listlessly from them, clods of snow, and grass that rustled as 
 if animals were crawling through it. All the roads were 
 slack. 
 
 I suppose no young man to whom society has not become 
 a cheap thing can be in Gavin's position, awaiting the 
 coming of an attractive girl, without giving thought to what 
 he should say to her. When in the pulpit, or visiting the 
 sick, words came in a rush to the little minister, but he 
 had to set his teeth to determine what to say to the Egyptian. 
 
 This was because he had not yet decided which of two 
 women she was. Hardly had he started on one line of 
 thought, when she crossed his vision in a new light, and 
 drew him after her. 
 
 Her "Need that make any difference?" sang in his ear 
 like another divit, cast this time at religion itself, and now 
 he spoke aloud, pointing his finger at a fir: "I said at 
 the mud house that I believed you because I knew you. To 
 my shame be it said that I spoke falsely. How dared you 
 bewitch me? In your presence I flung away the precious 
 hours in frivolity; I even forgot the Sabbath. For this I 
 have myself to blame. I am an unworthy preacher of the 
 Word. I sinned far more than you, who have been brought 
 up godlessly from your cradle. Nevertheless, whoever you 
 are, I call upon you, before we part, never to meet again, 
 to repent of your — " 
 
 And then it was no mocker of the Sabbath he was ad- 
 dressing, but a woman with a child's face, and there were 
 tears in her eyes. "Do you care?" she was saying, and 
 again he answered, "Yes, I care." This girl's name was 
 not Woman, but Babbie. 
 
 Now Gavin made a heroic attempt to look upon both 
 these women at once. "Yes, I believe in you," he said to 
 them, "but henceforth you must send your money to Nanny
 
 94 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 by another messenger. You are a gypsy and I am a 
 minister ; and that must part us. I refuse to see you again. 
 I am not angry with you, but as a minister — " 
 
 It was not the disappearance of one of the women that 
 clipped this argument short; it was Babbie singing: 
 
 "It fell on a day, on a bonny summer day, 
 When the corn grew green and yellow, 
 That there fell out a great dispute 
 Between Argyle and Airly. 
 
 "The Duke of Montrose has written to Argyle 
 To come in the morning early, 
 An' lead in his men by the back o' Dunkeld 
 To plunder the bonny house o' Airly." 
 
 "Where are you?" cried Gavin, in bewilderment. 
 
 "I am watching you from my window so high," answered 
 the Egyptian; and then the minister, looking up, saw her 
 peering at him from a fir. 
 
 "How did you get up there?" he asked, in amazement. 
 
 "On my broomstick," Babbie replied, and sang on: 
 
 "The lady looked o'er her window sae high, 
 And oh ! but she looked weary, 
 And there she espied the great Argyle 
 
 Come to plunder the bonny house o' Airly." 
 
 "What are you doing there?" Gavin said, wrathfully. 
 
 "This is my home," she answered. "I told you I lived 
 in a tree." 
 
 "Come down at once," ordered Gavin. To which tht 
 singer responded: 
 
 " 'Come down, come down. Lady Margaret,' he says ; 
 'Come down and kiss me fairly, 
 Or before the morning clear daylight 
 ril no leave a standing stane in Airly.' " 
 
 "If you do not come down this instant," Gavin said, in 
 a rage, "and give me what I was so foolish as to come for, 
 I—" 
 
 The Egyptian broke in: 
 
 " 'I wouldna kiss thee, great Argyle, 
 I wouldna kiss thee fairly ; 
 I wouldna kiss thee, great Argyle, 
 Gin you shouldna leave a standing stane in Airly.* "
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 95 
 
 "You have deceived Nanny/' Gavin cried, hotly, "and 
 you have brought me here to deride me. I will have no 
 more to do with you." 
 
 He walked away quickly, but she called after him, "I am 
 coming down. I have the money," and next moment a 
 snowball hit his hat. 
 
 "That is for being cross," she explained, appearing so 
 unexpectedly at his elbow that he was taken aback. "I 
 had to come close up to you before I flung it, or it would 
 have fallen over my shoulder. Why are you so nasty to- 
 day? and, oh, do you know you were speaking to yourself?" 
 
 "You are mistaken," said Gavin, severely. "I was speak- 
 ing to you." 
 
 "You didn't see me till I began to sing, did you?" 
 
 "Nevertheless I was speaking to you, or rather I was 
 saying to myself what — " 
 
 "What you had decided to say to me?" said the delighted 
 gypsy. "Do you prepare your talk like sermons? I hope 
 you have prepared something nice for me. If it is very 
 nice, I may give you this bunch of holly." 
 
 She was dressed as he had seen her previously, but for 
 a cluster of holly berries at her breast. 
 
 "I don't know that you will think it nice," the minister 
 answered, slowly, "but my duty — " 
 
 "If it is about duty," entreated Babbie, "don't say it. 
 Don't, and I will give you the berries." 
 
 She took the berries from her dress, smiling triumphantly 
 the while like one who had discovered a cure for duty; 
 and instead of pointing the finger of wrath at her, Gavin 
 stood expectant. 
 
 "But no," he said, remembering who he was, and pushing 
 the gift from him, "I will not be bribed. I must tell 
 you—" 
 
 "Now," said the Egyptian, sadly, "I see you are angry 
 with me. Is it because I said I lived in a tree? Do for- 
 give me for that dreadful lie." 
 
 She had gone on her knees before he could stop her, 
 and was gazing imploringly at him. with her hands clasped. 
 
 "You are mocking me again," said Gavin, "but I am not 
 angry with you. Only you must understand — " 
 
 She jumped up and put her fingers to her ears. 
 
 "You see I can hear nothing," she said. 
 
 "Listen while I tell you — " 
 
 "I don't hear a word. Why do you scold me when I
 
 96 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 have kept my promise? If I dared to take my fingers from 
 my ears I would give you the money for Nanny. And, 
 Mr. Dishart, I must be gone in five minutes." 
 
 "In five minutes,"' echoed Gavin, with such a dismal face 
 that Babbie heard the words with her eyes, and dropped 
 her hands. 
 
 "Why are you in such haste?" he asked, taking the five 
 pounds mechanically, and forgetting all that he had meant 
 to say. 
 
 "Because they require me at home," she answered, with 
 a sly glance at her fir. "And, remember, when I run 
 away you must not follow me." 
 
 "I won't," said Gavin, so promptly that she was piqued. 
 
 "Why not?" she asked. "But of course you only came 
 here for the money. Well, you have got it. Good-bye." 
 
 "You know that was not what I meant," said Gavin^ 
 stepping after her. "I have told you already that, what- 
 ever other people say, I trust you. I believe in you, Babbie.'* 
 
 "Was that what you were saying to the tree?" asked the 
 Egyptian, demurely. Then, perhaps thinking it wisest not 
 to press this point, she continued, irrelevantly, "It seems 
 such a pity that you are a minister." 
 
 "A pity to be a minister!" exclaimed Gavin, indignantly. 
 "Why, why, you, — why. Babbie, how have you been brought 
 «p?" 
 
 "In a curious way," Babbie answered, shortly, "but I 
 can't tell you about that just now. Would you like to 
 hear all about me?" Suddenly she seemed to have become 
 confidential. 
 
 "Do you really think me a gypsy?" she asked. 
 
 "I have tried not to ask myself that question." 
 
 "Why ?" 
 
 "Because it seems like doubting your word." 
 
 "I don't see how you can think of me at all without won- 
 dering who I am." 
 
 "No, and so I try not to think of you at all." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know that you need do that." 
 
 "I have not quite suc.eedcd." 
 
 The Egyptian's pique had vanished, but she may have 
 thought that the conversation was becoming dangerous, fof 
 she said, abruptly: 
 
 "Well, I sometimes think about you." 
 
 "Do you?" said Gavin, absurdly gratified. "What do you 
 think about me ?"
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 97 
 
 "I wonder," answered the Egyptian, pleasantly, "which 
 of us is the taller." 
 
 Gavin's fingers twitched with mortification, and not only 
 his fingers but his toes. 
 
 "Let us measure," she said, sweetly, putting her back to 
 his. "You are not stretching your neck, are you?" 
 
 But the minister broke away from her. 
 
 "There is one subject," he said, with great dignity, "that 
 I allow no one to speak of in my presence, and that is my — 
 my height." 
 
 His face was as white as his cravat when the surprised 
 Egyptian next looked at him, and he was panting like one 
 who had run a mile. She was ashamed of herself, and 
 said so. 
 
 "It is a topic I would rather not speak about," Gavin 
 answered, dejectedly, "especially to you." 
 
 He meant that he would rather be a tall man in her 
 company than in any other, and possibly she knew this, 
 though all she answered was : 
 
 "You wanted to know if I am really a gypsy. Well, I 
 am." 
 
 "An ordinary gypsy?" 
 
 "Do you think me ordinary?" 
 
 "I wish I knew what to think of you." 
 
 "Ah, well, that is my forbidden topic. But we have a 
 good many ideas in common, after all, have we not, though 
 you are only a minis — I mean, though I am only a gypsy?" 
 There fell between them a silence that gave Babbie time 
 to remember she must go. 
 
 "I have already stayed too long," she said. "Give my 
 love to Nanny, and say that I am coming to see her soon, 
 perhaps on Monday. I don't suppose you will be there on 
 Monday, Mr. Dishart?" 
 
 "I — I cannot say." 
 
 "No, you will be too busy. Are you to take the holly 
 berries?" 
 
 "I had better not," said Gavin, dolefully. 
 
 "Oh, if you don't want them — " 
 
 "Give them to me," he said, and as he took them his hand 
 shook. 
 
 "I know why you are looking so troubled," said the 
 Egyptian, archly. "You think I am to ask you the colour 
 of my eyes, and you have forgotten again." 
 
 He would have answered, but she checked him.
 
 98 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 '"Make no pretence," she said, severely; "I know you 
 think they are blue." 
 
 She came close to him until her face almost touched his. 
 
 "Look hard at them," she said, solemnly, "and after this 
 you may remember that they are black, black, black !" 
 
 At each repetition of the word she shook her head in his 
 face. She was adorable. Gavin's arms — but they met on 
 nothing. She had run away. 
 
 When the little minister had gone, a man came from 
 behind a tree and shook his list in the direction taken by 
 the gypsy. It was Rob Dow, black with passion. 
 
 "It's the Egyptian !" he cried. "You limmer, wha are 
 you that hae got baud o' the minister?" 
 
 He pursued her, but she vanished as from Gavin in 
 Windyghoul. 
 
 "A common Egyptian !" he muttered, when he had to 
 give up the search. "But take care, you little devil," he 
 called aloud; "take care; if I catch you playing pranka 
 wi' that man again, I'll wring your neck like a hen's !" 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 CADDAM LOVE LEADING TO A RUPTURE. 
 
 Gavin told himself not to go near the mud house on the 
 following Monday; but he went. The distance is half a 
 mile, and the time he took was two hours. Desires permitted 
 him to halt, as if to argue the matter out, but were thu? 
 tolerant merely because from where he stood he could see 
 Nanny's doorway. When Babbie emerged from it reason 
 seems to have made one final effort, for Gavin quickly took 
 that side of a tree which is loved of squirrels at the approach 
 of an enemy. He looked round the tree-trunk at her, and 
 then reason discarded him. The gypsy had two empty pans 
 in her hands. For a second she gazed in the minister's 
 direction, then demurely leaped the ditch of leaves that sep- 
 arated Nanny's yard from Caddam, and strolled into the 
 wood. Discovering with indignation that he had been skulk- 
 ing behind the tree, Gavin came into the open. How good of 
 the Egyptian, he reflected, to go to the well for water, 
 and thus save the old woman's arms ! Reason shouted from 
 near the manse (he only heard the echo) that he could
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 99 
 
 still make up on it. "Come along," said his desires, and 
 marched him prisoner to the well. 
 
 "How curious that we should have met here," Babbie said, 
 in her dangerously friendly way, as they filled the pans. "Do 
 you know I quite started when your shadow fell suddenly 
 on the stone. Did you happen to be passing through the 
 wood ?" 
 
 "No," answered truthful Gavin, "I was looking for you. 
 I thought you saw me from Nanny's door." 
 
 "Did you ? I only saw a man hiding behind a tree, and 
 of course I knew it could not be you." 
 
 Gavin looked at her sharply, but she was not laughing at 
 him. 
 
 "It was I," he admitted; "but I was not exactly hiding 
 behind the tree." 
 
 "You had only stepped behind it for a moment," sug- 
 gested the Eg>'ptian. 
 
 Her gravity gave way to laughter under Qavin's sus- 
 picious looks, but the laughing ended abruptly. She had 
 heard a noise in the wood. Gavin heard it, too, and they 
 both turned round in time to see two ragged boys running 
 from them. When boys are very happy they think they must 
 be doing wrong, and in a wood, of which they are among 
 the natural inhabitants, they always take flight from the 
 enemy, adults, if given time. For my own part, when I 
 see a boy drop from a tree I am as little surprised as if 
 he were an apple or a nut. But Gavin was startled, pic- 
 turing these spies handing in the new sensation about him 
 at every door, as a district visitor distributes tracts. The 
 gypsy noted his uneasiness, and resented it. 
 
 "What does it feel like to be afraid?" she asked, eyeing 
 him. 
 
 "I am afraid of nothing," Gavin answered, offended in 
 turn. 
 
 "Yes, you are. When you saw me come out of Nanny's 
 you crept behind a tree ; when these boys showed them- 
 selves you shook. You are afraid of being seen with me. 
 Go away, then; I don't want you." 
 
 "Fear," said Gavin, "is one thing, and prudence is an- 
 other." 
 
 "Another name for it," Babbie interposed. 
 
 "Not at all; but I owe it to my position to be careful. 
 Unhappily you do not seem to feel — to recognise — to know--" 
 
 "To know what?"
 
 100 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 — ^-^— ^— — ~"^"^^— ^^■^"^^^— ^^— "^^ ~~"~~~— ^™^"'*^~^— ^— ■^■^■^^ 
 
 "Let us avoid the subject." 
 
 "No," the Egyptian said, petulantly. "I hate not to be 
 told things. Why must you be "prudent?'" 
 
 "You should see," Gavin replied, awkwardly, "that there 
 is a — a difference between a minister and a gypsy." 
 
 "But if I am willing to overlook it?" asked Babbie, im- 
 pertinently. 
 
 Gavin beat the brushwood mournfully with his staff. 
 
 "I cannot allow you," he said, "to talk disrespectfully of 
 my calling. It is the highest a man can follow. I wish — " 
 
 He checked himself; but he was wishing she' could see him 
 in his pulpit. 
 
 "I suppose," said the gypsy, reflectively, "one must be very 
 clever to be a minister." 
 
 "As for that — " answered Gavin, waving his hand grandly. 
 
 "And it must be nice, too," continued Babbie, "to be able 
 to speak for a whole hour to people who can neither answer 
 nor go away. Is it true that before you begin to preach you 
 lock the door to keep the congregation in?" 
 
 "I must leave you if you talk in that way." 
 
 "I only wanted to know." 
 
 "Oh, Babbie, I am afraid you have little acquaintance with 
 the inside of churches. Do you sit under anybody?" 
 
 "Do I sit under anybody?" repeated Babbie, blankly. 
 
 Is it any wonder that the minister sighed? "Whom do you 
 sit under?" was his form of salutation to strangers. 
 
 "I mean, where do you belong ?" he said. 
 
 "Wanderers," Babbie answered, still misunderstanding him, 
 "belong to nowhere in particular." 
 
 "I am only asking you if you ever go to church?" 
 
 "Oh, that is what you mean. Yes, I go often." 
 
 "What church?" 
 
 "You promised not to ask questions." 
 
 "I only mean what denomination do you belong to?" 
 
 "Oh, the — the — Is there an English church denomina- 
 tion?" 
 
 Gavin groaned. 
 
 "Well, that is my denomination," said Babbie, cheerfully. 
 "Some day, though, I am coming to hear you preach. I 
 should like to see how j'ou look in your gov/n." 
 
 "We don't wear gowns." 
 
 "What a shame ! But I am coming, nevertheless. I used 
 to like going to church in Edinburgh." 
 
 "You have lived in Edinburgh?"
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 101 
 
 "We gypsies have lived everywhere," Babbie said, lightly, 
 though she was annoyed at having mentioned Edinburgh. 
 
 "But all gypsies don't speak as you do," said Gavin, 
 puzzled again. "I don't understand you." 
 
 "Of course you dinna," replied Babbie, in broad Scotch. 
 "Maybe, if you did, you would think that it's mair impru- 
 dent in me to stand here cracking clavers wi' the minister 
 than for the minister to waste his time cracking wi' me." 
 
 "Then why do it ?" 
 
 "Because — Oh, because prudence and I always take 
 different roads." 
 
 "Tell me who you are, Babbie," the minister entreated ; "at 
 least tell me where your encampment is." 
 
 "You have warned me against imprudence," she said. 
 
 "I want," Gavin continued, earnestly, "to know your people, 
 your father and mother." 
 
 "Why ?" 
 
 "Because," he answered, stoutly, "I like their daughter." 
 
 At that Babbie's fingers played on one of the pans, and, 
 for the moment, there was no more badinage in her. 
 
 "You are a good man," she said, abruptly; "but you will 
 never know my parents." 
 
 "Are they dead?" 
 
 "They may be; I cannot tell." 
 
 "This is all incomprehensible to me." 
 
 "I suppose it is. I never asked any one to understand 
 me. 
 
 "Perhaps not," said Gavin, excitedly: "but the time has 
 come when I must know everything of you that is to be 
 known." 
 
 Babbie receded from him in quick fear. 
 
 "You must never speak to me in that way again," she 
 said, in a warning voice. 
 
 "In what way ?" 
 
 Gavin knew what way very well, but he thirsted to hear 
 in her words what his own had implied. She did not choose 
 to oblige him, however. 
 
 "You will never understand me," she said. "I daresay I 
 might be more like other people now, if — if I had been 
 brought up differently. Not," she added, passionately, "that 
 I want to be like others. Do you never feel, when you 
 have been living a humdrum life for months, that you must 
 break out of it, or go crazy?" 
 
 Her vehemence alarmed Gavin, who hastened to reply:
 
 102 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "My life is not humdrum. It is full of excitement, anx- 
 ieties, pleasures, and I am too fond of the pleasures. Perhaps 
 it is because I have more of the luxuries of life than you 
 that I am so content with my lot." 
 
 "Why, what can you know of luxuries?" 
 
 "I have eighty pounds a year." 
 
 Babbie laughed. "Are ministers so poor?" she asked, 
 calling back her gravity. 
 
 "It is a considerable sum," said Gavin, a little hurt, for 
 it was the first time he had ever heard any one speak dis- 
 respectfully of eighty pounds. 
 
 The Egyptian looked down at her ring, and smiled. 
 
 "I shall always remember your saying that," she told him, 
 "after we have quarrelled." 
 
 "We shall not quarrel," Gavin said, decidedly. 
 
 "Oh, yes, we shall." 
 
 "We might have done so once, but we know each other too 
 well now." 
 
 "That is why we are to quarrel." 
 
 "About what?" said the minister. "I have not blamed 
 you for deriding my stipend, though how it can seem small 
 in the eyes of a gypsy — " 
 
 "Who can afford," broke in Babbie, "to give Nanny seven 
 shillings a week ?" 
 
 "True," Gavin said, uncomfortably, while the Egyptian 
 again toyed with her ring. She was too impulsive to be 
 reticent except now and then, and suddenly she said, 
 "You have looked at this ring before now. Do you know 
 that if you had it on your finger you would be more 
 worth robbing than with eighty pounds in each of your 
 pockets ?" 
 
 "Where did you get it," demanded Gavin, fiercely. 
 
 "I am sorry I told you that," the gyspy said, regretfully. 
 
 "Tell me how you got it?" Gavin insisted, his face now 
 hard. 
 
 "Now, you see, we are quarrelling." 
 
 "I must know." 
 
 "Must know ! You forget yourself," she said, haughtily. 
 
 "No, but I have forgotten myself too long. Where did 
 you get that ring?" 
 
 "Good afternoon to you," said the Egyptian, lifting her 
 pans. 
 
 "It is not good afternoon," he cried, detaining her, "It is 
 good-bye for ever, unless you answer me."
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 103 
 
 ^^■^— ™— ^■'— — ■~~— — ■^— ■"— — ^■■^— — ■~~'^^"™~— — — — ~^-~*f 
 
 "As you please," she said. "I will not tell you where I 
 got my ring. It is no affair of yours." 
 
 "Yes, Babbie, it is." 
 
 She was not, perhaps, greatly grieved to hear him say so, 
 for she made no answer. 
 
 "You are no gypsy," he continued, suspiciously. 
 
 "Perhaps not," she answered, again taking the pans. 
 
 "This dress is but a disguise." 
 
 "It may be. Why don't you go away and leave me ?" 
 
 "I am going," he replied, wildly. "I will have no more to 
 do with you. Formerly I pitied you, but — " 
 
 He could not have used a word more calculated to rouse 
 the Egyptian's ire, and she walked away with her head erect. 
 Only once did she Look back, and it was to say : 
 
 "This is prudence — now." 
 
 CHAPTER XVin. 
 
 CIRCUMSTANCES LEADING TO THE FIRST SERMON IN APPROVAL 
 OF WOMEN. 
 
 A YOUNG man thinks that he alone of mortals is impervious 
 to love, and so the discovery that he is in it suddenly alters 
 his views of his own mechanism. It is thus not unlike a rap 
 on the funny-bone. Did Gavin make this discovery when the 
 Egyptian left him? Apparently he only came to the brink 
 of it and stood blind. He had driven her from him for ever, 
 and his sense of loss was so acute that his soul cried out for 
 the cure rather than for tlie name of the malady. 
 
 In time he would have realised what had happened, but 
 ttime was denied him, for just as he was starting for the 
 mud house Babbie saved his dignity by returning to him. It 
 was not her custom to fix her eyes on the ground as she 
 walked, but she was doing so now, and at the same time 
 swinging the empty pans. Doubtless she had come back for 
 more water, in the "belief that Gavin had gone. He pro- 
 nounced her name with a sense of guilt, and she looked up 
 surprised, or seemingly surprised, to find him still there. 
 
 "I thought you had gone away long ago," she said, stiffly. 
 
 "Otherwise," asked Gavin, the dejected, "you would not 
 have come back to the well ?" 
 
 "Certainly not."
 
 104 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "I am very sorry. Had you waited another moment I 
 should have been gone," 
 
 This was said in apology, but the wilful Egyptian chose to 
 change its meaning. 
 
 "You have no right to blame me for disturbing you," she 
 declared, with warmth. 
 
 "I did not. I only—" 
 
 "You could have been a mile away by this time. Nanny 
 wanted more water." 
 
 Babbie scrutinised the minister sharply as she made this 
 statement. Surely her conscience troubled her, for on his 
 not answering immediately she said, "Do you presume to dis- 
 believe me? What could have made me return except to fill 
 the pans again?" 
 
 "Nothing," Gavin admitted, eagerly, "and I assure you — " 
 
 Babbie should have been grateful to his denseness, but it 
 merely set her mind at rest. 
 
 "Say anything against me you choose," she told him. "Say 
 it as brutally as you like, for I won't listen." 
 
 She stopped to hear his response to that, and she looked 
 so cold that it almost froze on Gavin's lips. 
 
 "I had no right," he said, dolefully, "to speak to you as 
 I did." 
 
 "You had not," answered the proud Egyptian. She was 
 looking away from him to show that his repentance was not 
 even interesting to her. However, she had forgotten already 
 not to listen. 
 
 "What business is it of mine?" asked Gavin, amazed at 
 his late presumption, "whether you are a gypsy or no?" 
 
 "None whatever." 
 
 "And as for the ring — " 
 
 Here he gave her an opportunity of allowing that his 
 curiosity about the ring was warranted. She declined to 
 help him, however, and so he had to go on. 
 
 "The ring is yours," he said, "and why should you not 
 wear it?" 
 
 "Why, indeed?" 
 
 "I am afraid I have a very bad temper." 
 
 He paused for a contradiction, but she nodded her head 
 in agreement. 
 
 "And it is no wonder," he continued, "that you think me 
 a — a brute." 
 
 "I'm sure it is not." 
 
 "But, Babbie, I want you to know that I despise myself for
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 105 
 
 my base suspicions. No sooner did I see them than I loathed 
 them and myself for harbouring them. Despite this mystery, 
 I look upon you as a noble-hearted girl. I shall always think 
 of you so." 
 
 This time Babbie did not reply. 
 
 "That was all I had to say," concluded Gavin, "except that 
 I hope you will not punish Nanny for my sins. Good-bye." 
 
 "Good-bye," said the Egyptian, who was looking at the 
 well. 
 
 The minister's legs could not have heard him give the order 
 to march, for they stood waiting. 
 
 'T thought," said the Egyptian, after a moment, "that 
 you said you were going." 
 
 "I was only — brushing my hat," Gavin answered with dig- 
 nity. "You want me to go?" 
 
 She bowed, and this time he did sef off. 
 
 "You can go if you like," she remarked now. 
 
 He turned at this. 
 
 "But you said — " he began, diffidently. 
 
 "No, I did not," she answered, with indignation. 
 
 He could see her face at last. 
 
 "You — you are crying!" he exclaimed, in bewilderment. 
 
 "Because you are so unfeeling," sobbed Babbie. 
 
 "What have I said, what have I done?" cried Gavin, in 
 an agony of self-contempt. "Oh, that I had gone away at 
 once!" 
 
 "That is cruel." 
 
 "What is ?" 
 
 "To say that." 
 
 "What did I say?" 
 
 "That you wished you had gone away." 
 
 "But surely," the minister faltered, "you asked me to 
 go. 
 
 "How can you say so?" asked the gypsy, reproachfully. 
 
 Gavin was distracted. "On my word," he said, earnestly, 
 'I thought you did. And now I have made you unhappy. 
 Babbie, I wish I were anybody but myself; I am a hopeless 
 lout." 
 
 "Now you are unjust," said Babbie, hiding her face. 
 
 "Again? To you?" 
 
 "No, you stupid," she said, beaming on him in her most 
 delightful manner, "to yourself !" 
 
 She gave him both her hands impetuously, and he did 
 not let them go until she added :
 
 106 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "I am so glad that you are reasonable at last. Men are 
 so much more unreasonable than women, don't you think ?" 
 
 "Perhaps we are," Gavin said, diplomatically, 
 
 "Of course you are. Why, every one knows that. Well, 
 I forgive you; only remember, you have admitted that it 
 was all your fault?" 
 
 She was pointing her finger at him like a schoolmistress, 
 and Gavin hastened to answer : 
 
 "You were not to blame at all." 
 
 "I like to hear you say that," explained the representative 
 of the more reasonable sex, "because it was really all my 
 fault." 
 
 "No, no." 
 
 "Yes, it was; but of course I could not say so until you 
 had asked my pardon. You must understand that ?" 
 
 The representative of the less reasonable sex could not 
 understand it, but he agreed recklessly, and it seemed so 
 plain to the woman that she continued, confidentially : 
 
 "I pretended that I did not want to make it up, but I did." 
 
 "Did you?" asked Gavin, elated. 
 
 "Yes, but nothing could have induced me to make the first 
 advance. You see why ?" 
 
 "Because I was so unreasonable?" asked Gavin, doubtfully. 
 
 "Yes, and nasty. You admit you were nasty ?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly, I have an evil temper. It has brought me 
 to shame many times." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," said the Egyptian, charitably. "I like 
 it. I believe I admire bullies." 
 
 "Did I bully you?" 
 
 "I never knew such a bully. You quite frightened me." 
 
 Gavin began to be less displeased with himself. 
 
 "You are sure," inquired Babbie, "that you had no right 
 to question me about the ring?" 
 
 "Certain," answered Gavin. 
 
 "Then I will tell you all about it," said Babbie, "for it is 
 natural that you should want to know." 
 
 He looked eagerly at her, and she had become serious and 
 sad. 
 
 "I must tell you at the same time," she said, "who I am, 
 and then — then we shall never see each other any more." 
 
 "Why should you tell me?" cried Gavin, his hand rising 
 to stop her. 
 
 "Because you have a right to know," she replied, now too 
 tnuch in earnest to see that she was yielding a point. "I
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 107 
 
 should prefer not to tell you : yet there is nothing wrong in 
 my secret, and it may make you think of me kindly when I 
 have gone away." 
 
 "Don't speak in that way, Babbie, after you have for- 
 given me." 
 
 "Did I hurt you? It was only because I know that you 
 cannot trust me while I remain a mystery. I know you would 
 try to trust me, but doubts would cross your mind. Yes, they 
 would; they are the shadows that mysteries cast. Who can 
 believe a gypsy if the odds are against her?" 
 
 "I can," said Gavin ; but she shook her head, and so would 
 he had he remembered three recent sermons of his own 
 preaching. 
 
 "I had better tell you all," she said, with an effort. 
 
 "It is my turn now to refuse to listen to you," exclaimed 
 Gavin, who was only a chivalrous boy. "Babbie, I should like 
 to hear your story, but until you want to tell it to me I will 
 not listen to it. I have faith in your honour, and that is 
 sufficient." 
 
 It was boyish, but I am glad Gavin said it; and now Babbie 
 admired something in him that deserved admiration. His 
 faith, no doubt, made her a better woman. 
 
 "I admit that I would rather tell you nothing just now," 
 she said, gratefully. "You are sure you will never say 
 again that you don't imderstand me ?" 
 
 "Quite sure," said Gavin, bravely. "And by and by you 
 will offer to tell me of your free will ?" 
 
 "Oh, don't let us think of the future," answered Babbie. 
 ''Let us be happy for the moment." 
 
 This had been the Egyptian's philosophy always, but it 
 was ill-suited for Auld Licht ministers, as one of them was 
 presently to discover. 
 
 "I want to make one confession, though," Babbie con- 
 tinued, almost reluctantly. "When you were so nasty a little 
 while ago, I didn't go back to Nanny's. I stood watching you 
 from behind a tree, and then, for an excuse to come back, 
 I — I poured out the water. Yes, and I told you another lie. 
 I really came back to admit that it was all my fault, if I could 
 not get you to say that it was yours. I am so glad you gave 
 in first." 
 
 She was very near him, and the tears had not yet dried 
 on her eyes. They were laughing eyes, eyes in distress, im- 
 ploring eyes. Her pale face, smiling, sad, dimpled, yet en- 
 treating forgiveness, was the one prominent thing in the
 
 108 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 world to him just then. He wanted to kiss her. He would 
 have done it as soon as her eyes rested on his, but she con- 
 tinued, without regarding him : 
 
 "How mean that sounds ! Oh, if I were a man I should 
 wish to be everj-thing that I am not, and nothing that I am. 
 I should scorn to be a liar, I should choose to be open in all 
 things, I should try to fight the world honestly. But I am only 
 a woman, and so — well, that is the kind of man I should like 
 to marry." 
 
 "A minister may De all these things," said Gavin, breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 "The man I could love," Babbie went on, not heeding 
 him, almost forgetting that he was there, "must not spend 
 his days in idleness as the men I know do." 
 
 "I do not." 
 
 "He must be brave, no mere worker among others, but a 
 leader of men. ' 
 
 "All ministers are." 
 
 "Who makes his influence felt." 
 
 "Assuredly.'' 
 
 "And takes the side of the weak against the strong, even 
 though the strong be in the right." 
 
 "Always my tendency." 
 
 "A man who has a mind of his own, and having onci 
 made it up stands to it in defiance even of — " 
 
 "Of his session." 
 
 "Of the world. He must understand me." 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "And be my master." 
 
 "It is his lawful position in the house." 
 
 "He must not yield to my coaxing or tempers." 
 
 "It would be weakness." 
 
 "But compel me to do his bidding; yes, even thrash me 
 if—" 
 
 "If you won't listen to reason. Babbie," cried Gavin, "I 
 am that man I" 
 
 Here the inventory abruptly ended, and these two people 
 found themselves staring at each other, as if of a sudden 
 they had heard something dreadful. I do not know how long 
 they stood thus, motionless and horrified. I cannot tell even 
 which stirred first. All 1 know is that almost simultaneously 
 they turned from each other and hurried out of the wood 
 in opposite directions,
 
 THE LITTLE IVnNISTER 109 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 END OF THE STATE OF INDECISION. 
 
 Long before I had any thought of writing' this story, I 
 had told it so often to my little maid that she now knows 
 some of it better than I. If you saw me looking up from 
 my paper to ask her, "What was it that Birse said to Jean 
 about the minister's flowers?" or, "Where was Hendry Munn 
 hidden on the night of the riots?" and heard her confident 
 answers, you would conclude that she had been in the thick 
 of these events, instead of born many years after them. I 
 mention this now because I have reached a point where her 
 memory contradicts mine. She maintains that Rob Dow was 
 told of the meeting in the wood by the two boys whom it 
 disturbed, while my own impression is that he was a wit- 
 ness of it. If she is right, Rob must have succeeded in 
 frightening the boys into telling no other person, for 
 certainly the scandal did not spread in Thrums. After 
 all, however, it is only important to know that Rob did 
 learn of the meeting. Its first effect w^s to send him sul- 
 lenly to the drink. 
 
 Many a time since these events have I pictured what might 
 have been their upshot had Dow confided their discovery 
 to me. Had I suspected why Rob was grown so dour again, 
 Gavin's future might have been very different. I was meet- 
 ing Rob now and again in the glen, asking, with an affected 
 carelessness he did not bottom, for news of the little min- 
 ister, but what he told me was only the gossip of the 
 town; and what I should have known, that Thrums might 
 never know it, he kept to himself. I suppose he feared^ to 
 speak to Gavin, who made several efforts to reclaim him, 
 but without avail. 
 
 Yet Rob's heart opened for a moment to one man, or 
 rather was forced open by that man. A few days after the 
 meeting at the well, Rob was bringing the smell of whisky 
 with him down Banker's Close when he ran against a famous 
 staff, with which the doctor pinned him to the wall. 
 
 "Ay," said the outspoken doctor, looking contemptuously 
 into Rob's bleary eyes, "so this is what your conversion 
 amounts to? Faugh 1 Rob Dow, if you were half a man the 
 very thought of what Mr. Dishart has done for you would 
 make you run past the public-houses."
 
 110 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "It's the thocht o' him that sends me running to them," 
 growled Rob, knocking down the staff. "Let me alane." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" demanded McQueen, hooking: 
 him this time. 
 
 "Speir at himsel'; speir at the woman." 
 
 '^hat woman?" 
 
 "Take your staff out o' my neck." 
 
 "Not till you tell me why you, of all people, are speaking 
 against the minister." 
 
 Torn by a desire for a confidant and loyalty to Gavin, Rob 
 was already in a fury. 
 
 "Say again," he burst forth, "that I was speaking agin 
 the minister and I'll practise on you what I'm awid to do 
 to her." 
 
 "Who is she?" 
 
 "Wha's wha?" 
 
 "The woman whom the minister — " 
 
 "I said nothing about a woman," said poor Rob, alarmed 
 for Gavin. "Doctor, I'm ready to swear afore a bailie that 
 1 never saw them thegither at the Kaims." 
 
 "The Kaims!" exclaimed the doctor, suddenly enlightened. 
 "Pooh ! you only mean the Egyptian. Rob, make your mind 
 easy about this. I know why he met her there." 
 
 "Do you ken that she has bewitched him; do you ken 
 I saw him trying to put his arms round her; do you ken 
 they have a trysting-place in Caddam wood?" 
 
 This came from Rob in a rush, and he would fain have 
 called it all back. 
 
 "I'm drunk, doctor, roaring drunk," he said, hastily, "and 
 it wasna the minister I saw ava ; it was another man." 
 
 Nothing more could the doctor draw from Rob, but he 
 had heard sufficient to smoke some pipes on. Like many 
 who pride themselves on being recluses, McQueen loved the 
 gossip that came to him uninvited; indeed, he opened his 
 mouth to it as greedily as any man in Thrums. He re- 
 spected Gavin, however, too much to find this new dish 
 palatable, and so his researches to discover whether other 
 Auld Lichts shared Rob's fears were conducted with cau- 
 tion. "Is there no word of your minister's getting a wife 
 yet ?" he asked several, but only got for answers, "There's 
 word o' a Glasgow ledd}'s sending him baskets o' flowers," 
 or "He has his een open, but he's taking his time; ay, he's 
 looking for the blade o' corn in the stack o' chaff." 
 
 This convinced McQueen that the congregation knew noth-
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 111 
 
 ^■^— ^^^^^^^^™^i— °— ^^— ^^— ^™^— — ^^— — »— — ^^^"^■^■^^■— — ^ 
 
 ing of the Egyptian, but it did not satisfy him, and he 
 made an opportunity of inviting Gavin into the surgery. It 
 was, to the doctor, the cosiest nook in his house, but to me 
 and many others a room that smelled of hearses. On the 
 top of the pipes and tobacco tins that littered the table there 
 usually lay a death certificate, placed there deliberately by 
 the doctor to scare his sister, who had a passion for putting 
 the surgery to rights. 
 
 "By the way," McQueen said, after he and Gavin had 
 talked a little while, "did I ever advise you to smoke?" 
 
 "It is your usual form of salutation," Gavin answered, 
 laughing. "But I don't think you ever supplied me with a 
 reason." 
 
 "I daresay not. I am too experienced a doctor to cheapen 
 my prescriptions in that way. However, here is one good 
 reason. I have noticed, sir, that at your age a man is either 
 a slave to a pipe or to a woman. Do you want me to lend 
 you a pipe now?" 
 
 "Then I am to understand," asked Gavin, slyly, "that 
 your locket came into your possession in your pre-smoking 
 days, and that you merely wear it from habit?" 
 
 "Tuts !" answered the doctor, buttoning his coat. "I told 
 you there was nothing in the locket. If there is, I have for- 
 gotten what it is." 
 
 "You are a hopeless old bachelor, I see," said Gavin, un- 
 aware that the doctor was probing him. He was surprised 
 next moment to find McQueen in the ecstasies of one who 
 has won a rubber, 
 
 "Now, then," cried the jubilant doctor, "as you have con- 
 fessed so much, tell me all about her. Name and address, 
 please." 
 
 "Confess ! What have I confessed ?" 
 
 "It won't do, Mr. Dishart, for even your face betrays 
 you. No, no, I am an old bird, but I have not forgotten 
 the ways of the fledgelings. 'Hopeless bachelor,' sir, is a 
 sweetmeat in every young man's mouth until of a sudden he 
 finds it sour, and that means the banns. When is it to be?" 
 
 "We must find the lady first," said the minister, uncom- 
 fortably. 
 
 "You tell me, in spite of that face, that you have not 
 fixed on her?" 
 
 "The difficulty, I suppose, would be to persuade her to 
 fix on me." 
 
 "Not a bit of it. But vou admit there is some one?"
 
 112 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "Who would have me?" 
 
 "You are wrigghng out of it. Is it the banker's daugh- 
 ter?" 
 
 "No," Gavin cried. 
 
 "I hear you have walked up the back wynd with her three 
 times this week. The town is in a ferment about it." 
 
 "She is a great deal in the back wynd." 
 
 "Fiddle-de-dee ! I am oftener in the back wynd than 
 you, and I never meet her there." 
 
 "That is curious." 
 
 "No, it isn't, but never mind. Perhaps you have fallen 
 to Miss Pennycuick's piano? Did you hear it going as we 
 passed the house?" 
 
 "She seems always to be playing on her piano." 
 
 "Not she ; but you are supposed to be musical, and so 
 when she sees you from her window she begins to thump. 
 If I am in the school wynd and hear the piano going, I 
 know you will turn the corner immediately. However, I am 
 glad to hear it is not Miss Pennycuick. Then it is the factor 
 at the Spittal's lassie? Well done, sir. You should arrange 
 to have the wedding at the same time as the old earl's, which 
 comes off in summer, I believe." 
 
 "One foolish marriage is enough in a day, doctor." 
 
 "Eh? You call him a fool for marrying a young wife? 
 Well, no doubt he is, but he would have been a bigger fool 
 to marry an old one. However, it is not Lord Rintoul we are 
 discussing, but Gavin Dishart. I suppose you know that 
 the factor's lassie is an heiress?" 
 
 "And, therefore, would scorn me." 
 
 "Try her," said the doctor, drily. "Her father and mother, 
 as I know, married on a ten-pound note. But if I am wrong 
 again, I must adopt the popular view in Thrums. It is a 
 Glasgow lady, after all? Man, you needn't look indignant 
 at hearing that the people are discussing your intended. You 
 can no more stop it than a doctor's orders could keep Lang 
 Tammas out of church. They have discovered that she sends 
 you flowers twice every week." 
 
 "They never reach me," answered Gavin, then remembered 
 the holly and winced. 
 
 "Some," persisted the relentless doctor, "even speak of your 
 having been seen togethe'; but of course, if she is a Glas- 
 gow lady, that is a mistake." 
 
 "Where did they see us?" asked Gavin, with a sudden 
 trouble in his throat.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 113 
 
 "You are shaking-," said the doctor, keenly, "like a medical 
 student at his first operation. But as for the story that 
 you and the lady have been seen together, I can guess how 
 it arose. Do you remember that gypsy girl?" 
 
 The doctor had begun by addressing the fire, but he sud- 
 denly wheeled round and fired his question in the minister's 
 face. Gavin, however, did not even blink. 
 
 "Why should I have forgotten her?" he replied, coolly. 
 
 "Oh, in the stress of other occupations. But it was your 
 getting the money from her at the Kaims for Nanny that I 
 was to speak of. Absurd though it seems, I think some 
 dotard must have seen you and her at the Kaims, and mis- 
 taken her for the lady." 
 
 McQueen flung himself back in his chair to enjoy this 
 joke. 
 
 "Fancy mistaking that woman for a lady !" he said to 
 Gavin, who had not laughed with him. 
 
 "I think Nanny has some justification for considering her 
 a lady," the minister said, firmly. 
 
 "Well, I grant that. But what made me guffaw was a 
 vision of the harum-scarum, devil-may-care little Egyptian 
 mistress of an Auld Licht manse !" 
 
 "She is neither harum-scarum nor devil-may-care," Gavin 
 answered, without heat, for he was no longer a distracted 
 minister. "You don't understand her as I do." 
 
 "No, I seem to understand her differently." 
 
 "What do you know of her?" 
 
 "That is just it," said the doctor, irritated by Gavin's 
 coolness. "I know she saved Nanny from the poorhouse, but 
 I don't know where she got the money. I know she can 
 talk fine English when she chooses, but I don't know where 
 she learned it. I know she heard that the soldiers were 
 coming to Thrums before they knew of their destination 
 themselves, but I don't know who told her. You who under-* 
 stand her can doubtless explain these matters?" 
 
 "She offered to explain them to me," Gavin answered, still 
 unmoved, "but I forbade her." 
 
 ;'Why?" 
 
 "It is no business of yours, doctor. Forgive me for say- 
 ing so." 
 
 "In Thrums," replied McQueen, "a minister's business is 
 everybody's business. I have often wondered who helped her 
 to escape from the soldiers that night. Did she offer to 
 explain that to you?"
 
 114 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "She did not." 
 
 '"Perhaps," said the doctor, sharply, "because it was un- 
 necessary ?"' 
 
 "That was the reason." 
 
 "You helped her to escape?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "And you are not ashamed of it?" 
 
 "I am not." 
 
 "Why were )'ou so anxious to screen her?" 
 
 "She saved some of my people from g'aol." 
 
 "Which was more than they deserved." 
 
 "I have always understood that you concealed two of 
 them in your own stable." 
 
 "Maybe I did," the doctor had to allow. "But I took 
 my stick to them next morning. Besides, they were Thrums 
 folks, while you had never set eyes on that imp of mischief 
 before." 
 
 "I cannot sit here, doctor, and hear her called names," 
 Gavin said, rising, but McQueen gripped him by the shoulder. 
 
 "For pity's sake, sir, don't let us wrangle like a pair of 
 women. I brought you here to speak my mind to you, and 
 speak it I will. I warn you, Mr. Dishart, that you are being 
 watched. You have been seen meeting this lassie in Caddam 
 as well as at the Kaims." 
 
 "Let the whole town watch, doctor. I have met her 
 openly." 
 
 "And why? Oh, don't make Nanny your excuse." 
 
 "I won't. I met her because I love her." 
 
 "Are you mad?" cried McQueen. "You speak as if you 
 would marry her." 
 
 "Yes," replied Gavin, determinedly, "and I mean to do it." 
 
 The doctor flung up his hands. 
 
 "I give you up," he said, raging. "I give you up. Think 
 of your congregation, man." 
 
 "I have been thinking of them, and as soon as I have a 
 right to do so, I shall tell them what I have told you." 
 
 "And until you tell them I will keep your madness to 
 myself, for I warn you that, as soon as they do know, there 
 will be a vacancy in the Auld Licht kirk of Thrums." 
 
 "She is a woman," said Gavin, hesitating, though pre- 
 paring to go, "of whom any minister might be proud." 
 
 "She is a woman," the doctor roared, "that no congre- 
 gation would stand. Oh, if you will go, there is your hat." 
 
 Perhaps Gavin's face was whiter as he left the house
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 115 
 
 than when he entered it, but there was no other change. 
 Those who were watching him decided that he was looking 
 much as usual, except that his mouth was shut very firm, 
 from which they concluded that he had been taking the 
 doctor to task for smoking. They also noted that he re- 
 turned to McQueen's house within half an hour after leaving 
 it, but remained no time. 
 
 Some explained this second visit by saying that the min- 
 ister had forgotten his cravat, and had gone back for it. 
 What really sent him back, however, was his conscience. He 
 had said to McQueen that he helped Babbie to escape from 
 the soldiers because of her kindness to his people, and he 
 returned to own that it was a lie. 
 
 Gavin knocked at the door of the surgery, but entered 
 without waiting for a response. McQueen was no longer 
 stamping through the room, red and furious. He had even 
 laid aside his pipe. He was sitting back in his chair, looking 
 half mournfully, half contemptuously, at something in his 
 palm. His hand closed instinctively when he heard the door 
 open, but Gavin had seen that the object was an open locket. 
 
 "It was only your reference to the thing," the detected 
 doctor said, with a grim laugh, "that made me open it. Forty 
 year ago, sir, I — Phew ! it is forty-two years, and I have 
 not got over it yet." He closed the locket with a snap. "I 
 hope you have come back, Dishart, to speak more rationally?" 
 
 Gavin told him why he had come back, and the doctor 
 said he was a fool for his pains. 
 
 "It is useless, Dishart, to make another appeal to you?" 
 
 "Quite useless, doctor," Gavin answered, promptly. "My 
 mind is made up at last." 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 NIGHT — MARG.'^RET — FLASHING OF A LANTERN. 
 
 That evening the little minister sat silently in his par- 
 lour. Darkness came, and with it weavers rose heavy-eyed 
 from their looms, sleepy children sought their mothers, and 
 the gate of the field above the manse fell forward to let 
 cows pass to their byre; the great Bible was produced in 
 many homes, and the ten o'clock bell clanged its last word 
 to the night. Margaret had allowed the lamp to burn low.
 
 116 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 Thinking that her boy slept, she moved softly to his side 
 and spread her shawl over his knees. He had forgotten 
 her. The doctor's warnings scarcely troubled him. He was 
 Babbie's lover. The mystery of her was only a veil hiding 
 her from other men, and he was looking through it upon the 
 face of his beloved. 
 
 It was a night of long ago, but can you not see my 
 dear Margaret still as she bends over her son? Not twice 
 in many days dared the minister snatch a moment's sleep from 
 gray morning to midnight, and, when this did happen, he 
 jumped up by and by in shame, to revile himself for an 
 idler, and ask his mother wrathfully why she had not tum- 
 bled him out of his chair. To-night Margaret was divided 
 between a desire to let him sleep and a fear of his self- 
 reproach when he awoke; and so, perhaps, the tear fell that 
 roused him. 
 
 "I did not like to waken you," Margaret said, apprehen- 
 sively. "You must have been very tired, Gavin?" 
 
 "I was not sleeping, mother," he said, slowly. "I was 
 only thinking." 
 
 "Ah, Gavin, you never rise from your loom. It is hardly 
 fair that your hands should be so full of other people's 
 troubles." 
 
 "They only fill one hand, mother ; I carry the people's joys 
 in the other hand, and that keeps me erect, like a woman 
 between her pan and pitcher. I think the joys have out- 
 weighed the sorrows since we came here." 
 
 "It has been all joy to me, Gavin, for you never tell me 
 of the sorrows. An old woman has no right to be so happy." 
 
 "Old woman, mother !" said Gavin. But his indignation 
 was vain. Margaret was an old woman. I made her old be- 
 fore her time. 
 
 "As for these terrible troubles," he went on, "I forget 
 them the moment I enter the garden and see you at your 
 window. And, maybe, I keep some of the joys from you 
 as well as the troubles." 
 
 Words about Babbie leaped to his mouth, but with an 
 effort he restrained them. He must not tell his mother of 
 her until Babbie of her free will had told him all there was 
 to tell. 
 
 "I have been a selfish woman, Gavin." 
 
 "You selfish, mother !" Gavin said, smiling. "Tell me 
 when you did not think of others before yourself?" 
 
 "Always, Gavin. Has it not been selfishness to hope that
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 117 
 
 you would never want to bring- another mistress to the manse ? 
 Do you remember how angry you used to be in Glasgow 
 when I said that you would marry some day?" 
 
 "I remember," Gavin said, sadly. 
 
 "Yes; you used to say, 'Don't speak of such a thing, 
 mother, for the horrid thought of it is enough to drive 
 all the Hebrew out of my head.' Was not that lightning 
 just now?" 
 
 "I did not see it. What a memory you have, mother, for 
 all the boyish things I said." 
 
 "I can't deny," Margaret admitted, with a sigh, "that I 
 liked to hear you speak in that way, though I knew you 
 Vv'ould go back on your word. You see, you have changed 
 already." 
 
 "How, mother?" asked Gavin, surprised. 
 
 "You said just now that those were boyish speeches. 
 Gavin, I can't understand the mothers who are glad to 
 see their sons married; though I had a dozen I believe it 
 would be a wrench to lose one of them." 
 
 "There are not many mothers like you," Gavin said, laying 
 his hand fondly on JMargaret's shoulder. 
 
 "There are many better mothers, but few such sons. It 
 is easily seen why God could not afford me another, Gavin, 
 I am sure that was lightning." 
 
 "I think it was ; but don't be alarmed, mother." 
 
 "I am never frightened when you are with me." 
 
 "And I always will be with you." 
 
 "Ah, if you were married — " 
 
 "Do you think," asked Gavin, indignantly, "that it would 
 make any difference to you?" 
 
 Margaret did not answer. She knew what a difference it 
 would make. 
 
 "Except," continued Gavin, with a man's obtuseness, "that 
 you would have a daughter as well as a son to love you and 
 take care of 5'ou?" 
 
 Margaret could have told him that men give themselves 
 away needlessly who marry for the sake of their mother, 
 but all she said was : 
 
 "Gavin, I see you can speak more composedly of marry- 
 ing now than you spoke a year ago. If I did not know better, 
 I should think a Thrums young lady had got hold of you." 
 
 It was a moment before Gavin replied; then he said, 
 gaily : 
 
 "Really, mother, the way the best of women speak of
 
 118 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 each other is lamentable. You say I should be better mar- 
 ried, and then you take for granted that every marriageable 
 woman in the neighbourhood is trying to kidnap me. I am 
 sure you did not take my father by force in that way." 
 
 He did not see that Margaret trembled at the mention 
 of his father. He never knew that she was many times 
 pining to lay her head upon his breast and tell him of me. 
 Yet I cannot but believe that she always shook when Adam 
 Dishart was spoken of between them. I cannot think that 
 the long cherishing of the secret which was hers and mine 
 kept her face steady when that horror suddenly confronted 
 her as now. Gavin would have suspected much had he ever 
 suspected anything. 
 
 "I know," Margaret said, courageously, "that you would 
 be better married; but when it comes to selecting the woman 
 I grow fearful. O Gavin!" she said, earnestly, "it is an 
 awful thing to marry the wrong man !" 
 
 Here in a moment had she revealed much, though far 
 from all, and there must have been many such moments 
 between them. But Gavin was thinking of his own affairs. 
 
 "You mean the wrong woman, don't you, mother?" he 
 said, and she hastened to agree. But it was the wrong man 
 she meant. 
 
 "The difficulty, I suppose, is to hit upon the right one?" 
 Gavin said, blithely. 
 
 "To know which is the right one in time," answered 
 Margaret, solemnly. "But I am saying nothing against the 
 young ladies of Thrums, Gavin. Though I have scarcely 
 seen them, I know there are good women among them. Jean 
 says — " 
 
 "I believe, mother," Gavin interposed, reproachfully, "that 
 you have been questioning Jean about them?" 
 
 "Just because I was afraid — I mean because I fancied — 
 you might be taking a liking to one of them." 
 
 "And what is Jean's verdict?" 
 
 "She says every one of them would jump at you, like 
 a bird at a berry." 
 
 "But the berry cannot be divided. How would Miss 
 Pennycuick please you, mother ?" 
 
 "Gavin!" cried Margrret, in consternation, "you don't mean 
 to — But you are laughing at me again." 
 
 "Then there is the banker's daughter?" 
 
 "I can't thole her." 
 
 "Why, I question if you ever set eyes on her, mother."
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 119 
 
 'Terhaps not, Gavin; but I have suspected her ever since 
 she offered to become one of your tract distributors." 
 
 "I have thought," Margaret went on, "that there was a 
 great deal of wisdom in what you said at that last marriage 
 in the manse, the one where, you remember, the best man 
 and the bridesmaid joined hands instead of the bride and 
 bridegroom." 
 
 "What did I say?" asked the little minister, with mis- 
 givings. 
 
 "That there was great danger when people married out 
 of their own rank of life." 
 
 "Oh — ah — well, of course, that would depend on circum- 
 stances." 
 
 "They were wise words, Gavin. There was the sermon, 
 too, that you preached a month or two ago against marrying 
 into other denominations. Jean told me that it greatly 
 impressed the congregation. It is a sad sight, as you said, 
 to see an Auld Licht lassie changing her faith because her 
 man belongs to the U. P.'s." 
 
 "Did I say that?" 
 
 "You did, and it so struck Jean that, she told me she 
 would rather be an old maid for life, 'the which,' she said, 
 'is a dismal prospect,' than marry out of the Auld Licht 
 kirk." 
 
 "Perhaps that was a rather narrow view I took, mother. 
 After all, the fitting thing is that the wife should go 
 with her husband; especially if it is he that is the Auld 
 Licht." 
 
 "I don't hold with narrowness myself, Gavin," Margaret 
 said, with an effort, "and admit that there are many re- 
 spectable persons in the other denominations. But though a 
 weaver might take a wife from another kirk without much 
 scandal, an Auld Licht minister's madam must be Auld Licht 
 born and bred. The congregation would expect no less. I 
 doubt if they would be sure of her if she came from some 
 other Auld Licht kirk. 'Deed, though she came from our 
 own kirk, I'm thinking the session would want to catechise 
 her. Ay, and if all you tell me of Lang Tammas be true 
 (for, as you know, I never spoke to him), I warrant he 
 would catechise the session." 
 
 "I would brook no interference from my session," said 
 Gavin, knitting his brows, "and I do not consider it neces- 
 sary that a minister's wife should have been brought up in 
 his denomination. Of course she would join it. We must
 
 120 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 make allowance, mother, for the thousands of young women 
 who live in places where there is no Auld Licht kirk." 
 
 "You can pity them, Gavin," said Margaret, '"without 
 marrying them. A minister has his congregation to think of." 
 
 "So the doctor says," interposed her son. 
 
 "Then it was just like his presumption!" cried Margaret. 
 ''A minister should marry to please himself." 
 
 "Decidedly he should," Gavin agreed, eagerly, "and the 
 bounden duty of the congregation is to respect and honour 
 his choice. If they forget that duty, his is to remind them 
 of it." 
 
 "Ah, well, Gavin," said Margaret, confidently, "your con- 
 gregation are so fond of you that your choice would doubt- 
 less be theirs. Jean tells me that even Lang Tammas, though 
 he is so obstinate, has a love for you passing the love of 
 woman. These were her words. Jean is more sentimental 
 than you might think." 
 
 "I wish he would show his love," said Gavin, "by con- 
 tradicting me less frequently." 
 
 "You have Rob Dow to weigh against him." 
 
 "No ; I cannot make out what has come over Rob lately. 
 He is drinking heavily again, and avoiding me. The light- 
 ning is becoming very vivid." 
 
 "Yes, and I hear no thunder. There is another thing, 
 Gavin. I am one of those that like to sit at home, but if 
 you had a wife she would visit the congregation. A truly 
 religious wife would be a great help to you." 
 
 "Religious," Gavin repeated, slowly. "Yes, but some peo- 
 ple are religious without speaking of it. If a woman is 
 good she is religious. A good woman who has been, let 
 us say, foolishly brought up, only needs to be shown the 
 right way to tread it. Mother, I question if any man, 
 minister or layman, ever yet fell in love because the woman 
 was thrifty, or clever, or w^ent to church twice on Sab- 
 bath." 
 
 "I believe that is true," Margaret said, "and I would not 
 have it otherwise. But it is an awful thing, Gavin, as yoi' 
 said from the pulpit two weeks ago, to worship only at a 
 beautiful face." 
 
 "You think too much about what I say in the pulpit, 
 mother," Gavin said, with a sigh, "though of course a man 
 who fell in love merely with a face would be a contemptible 
 creature. Yet I see that women dp no* understand how 
 beautv affects a man."
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 121 
 
 - -.11 1 .J— ^— — ^-— — ^— ^— i— i»— — »»«^— «— — ^— .^ 
 
 "Yes, yes, my boy, — oh, indeed, they do," said Margaret, 
 who on some matters knew far more than her son. 
 
 Twelve o'clock struck, and she rose to go to bed, alarmed 
 lest she should not waken early in the morning. "But I 
 am afraid I sha'n't sleep," she said, "if that lightning con- 
 tinues." 
 
 "It is harmless," Gavin answered, going to the window. 
 He started back next moment, and crying, "Don't look out, 
 mother," hastily pulled down the blind. 
 
 "Why, Gavin," Margaret said, in fear, "you look as if it 
 had struck you." 
 
 "Oh, no," Gavin answered, with a forced laugh, and he 
 lit her lamp for her. 
 
 But it had struck him, though it was not lightning. It 
 was the flashing of a lantern against the window to attsact 
 his attention, and the holder of the lantern was Babbie. 
 
 "Good-night, mother." 
 
 "Good-night, Gavin. Don't sit up any later." 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 LOVERS. 
 
 Only something terrible, Gavin thought, could have 
 brought Babbie to him at such an hour; yet when he left his 
 mother's room it was to stand motionless on the stair, waiting 
 for a silence in the manse that would not come. A house is 
 never still in darkness to those who listen intently; there 
 is a whispering in distant chambers, an unearthly hand 
 presses the snib of the window, the latch rises. Ghosts were 
 created when the first man woke in the night. 
 
 Now Margaret slept. Two hours earlier, Jean, sitting on 
 the salt-bucket, had read the chapter with which she always 
 sent herself to bed. In honour of the little minister she 
 had begun her Bible afresh when he came to Thrums, and 
 was progressing through it, a chapter at night, sighing, per- 
 haps, on washing-days, at a long chapter, such as Exodus 
 twelfth, but never making two of it. The kitchen wag-at- 
 the-wall clock was telling every room in the house that she 
 had neglected to shut her door. As Gavin felt his way down 
 the dark stair, awakening it into protest at every step, he 
 had a glimpse of the pendulum's shadow running back and
 
 122 THE LITTLE IMINISTER 
 
 forward on the hearth ; he started back from another shadow 
 on the lobby wall, and then seeing it start, too, knew it for 
 his own. He opened the door and passed out unobserved ; it 
 was as if the sounds and shadows that filled the manse were 
 too occupied with their game to mind an interloper. 
 
 "Is that you?"' he said to a bush, for the garden was in 
 semi-darkness. Then the lantern's flash met him, and he 
 saw the Egyptian in the summer-seat. 
 
 "At last !" she said, reproach full)^ "Evidently a lantern 
 is a poor door-bell." 
 
 "What is it?" Gavin asked, in suppressed excitement, for 
 the least he expected to hear was that she was again being 
 pursued for her share in the riot. The tremor in his voice 
 surprised her into silence, and he thought she faltered be- 
 cause what she had to tell him was so woful. So, in the 
 darkness of the summer-seat, he kissed her, and she might 
 have known that with that kiss the little minister was hers 
 for ever. 
 
 Now Babbie had been kissed before, but never thus, and 
 she turned from Gavin, and would have liked to be alone, 
 for she had begun to know what love was, and the flash 
 that revealed it to her laid bare her own shame, so that 
 her impulse was to hide herself from her lover. But of 
 all this Gavin was unconscious, and he repeated his question. 
 The lantern was swaying in her hand, and when she turned 
 fearfully to him its light fell on his face, and she saw how 
 alarmed he was. 
 
 "I am going away back to Nanny's," she said, suddenly, 
 and rose cowed, but he took her hand and held her. 
 
 "Babbie," he said, huskily, "tell me what has happened to 
 bring you here at this hour." 
 
 She sought to pull her hand from him, but could not. 
 
 "How you are trembling!" he whispered. "Babbie," he 
 cried, "something terrible has happened to you, but do not 
 fear. Tell me what it is, and then, — then I will take you 
 to my mother : yes, I will take you now." 
 
 The Egyptian would have given all she had in the world 
 to be able to fly from him then, that he might never know 
 her as she was, but it could not be, and so she spoke out 
 remorselessly, li her voice had become hard, it was a new- 
 born scorn of herself that made it so. 
 
 "You are needlessly alarmed," she said; "I am not at all 
 the kind of person who deserves sympathy or expects it. 
 There is nothing wrong-. I am staying with Nanny over
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 123 
 
 night, and only came to Thrums to amuse myself. I chased 
 your policeman down the Roods with my lantern, and then 
 came here to amuse myself with you. That is all." 
 
 "It was nothing but a love of mischief that brought you 
 here?" Gavin asked, sternly, after an unpleasant pause. 
 
 "Nothing," the Egyptian answered, recklessly. 
 
 "I could not have believed this of you," the minister said; 
 "I am ashamed of you." 
 
 'T thought," Babbie retorted, trying to speak lightly until 
 she could get away from him, "that you would be glad to 
 see me. Your last words in Caddam seemed to justify that 
 idea." 
 
 "I am very sorry to see you," he answered, reproachfully. 
 
 "Then I will go away at once," she said, stepping out of 
 the summer-seat. 
 
 "Yes," he replied, "you must go at once." 
 
 "Then I won't," she said, turning back defiantly. "I know 
 what you are to say: that the Thrums people would be 
 shocked if they knew I was here; as if I cared what the 
 Thrums people think of me." 
 
 "I care what they think of you," Gav,'n said, as if that 
 were decisive, "and I tell you I will not allow you to repeat 
 this freak." 
 
 "You 'will not allow me,' " echoed Babbie, almost en- 
 joying herself, despite her sudden loss of self-respect. 
 
 "I will not," Gavin said, resolutely. "Henceforth you must 
 do as I think fit." 
 
 "Since when have you taken command of me?" demanded 
 Babbie. 
 
 "Since a minute ago," Gavin replied, "when you let me 
 kiss you." 
 
 "Let you !" exclaimed Babbie, now justly incensed. "You 
 did it yourself. I was very angry." 
 
 "No, you were not." 
 
 "I am not allowed to say that even?" asked the Egyptian. 
 "Tell me something I may say, then, and I will repeat it 
 after you." 
 
 "I have something to say to you," Gavin tnld her, after 
 a moment's reflection ; "yes, and there is something I should 
 like to hear you repeat after me, but not to-night." 
 
 "I don't want to hear what it is," Babbie said, quickly, but 
 she knew what it was, and even then, despite the new pain 
 at her heart, her bosom swelled with pride because this man 
 still loved her. Now she wanted to run away with his love
 
 124. THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 ^■^^— ^^^■■^^— ^^^"^— ^ ^— — ^^— ■ 
 
 for her before he could take it from her, and then reahsing 
 that this parting must be for ever, a great desire filled her 
 to hear him put that kiss into words, and she said, faltering: 
 
 "You can tell me what it is if you like." 
 
 "Not to-night," said Gavin. 
 
 "To-night, if at all," the gypsy almost entreated. 
 
 "To-morrow, at Xanny's," answered Gavin, decisively; and 
 this time he remembered without dismay that the morrow was 
 the Sabbath. 
 
 In the fairy tale the beast suddenly drops his skin and 
 is a prince, and I believe it seemed to Babbie that some 
 such change had come over this man, her pla>'thing. 
 
 "Your lantern is shining on my mother's window," were 
 the words that woke her from this discovery, and then she 
 found herself yielding the lantern to him. She became con- 
 scious vaguely that a corresponding change was taking place 
 in herself. 
 
 "You spoke of taking me to your mother," she said, bit- 
 terly. 
 
 "Yes," he answered at once, "to-morrow;" but she shook 
 her head, knowing that to-morrow he would be wiser. 
 
 "Give me the lantern," she said, in a low voice, "I am going 
 back to Xanny's now." 
 
 "Yes," he said, "we must set out now, but I can carry 
 the lantern." 
 
 "You are not coming with me !" she exclaimed, shaking 
 herself free of his hand. 
 
 "I am coming," he replied, calmly, though he was not 
 calm. "Take my arm, Babbie." 
 
 She made a last effort to free herself from bondage, crying 
 passionately, "I will not let you come." 
 
 "When I say I am coming," Gavin answered between his 
 teeth, "I mean that I am coming, and so let that be an end 
 of this folly. Take my arm." 
 
 "I think I hate you," she said, retreating from him. 
 
 'Take my arm," he repeated, and, though her breast was 
 rising rebelliously, she did as he ordered., and so he escorted 
 her from the gaiden. At the foot of the field she stopped, and 
 thought to frighten him by saying, "What would the people 
 say if they saw you with me now?" 
 
 "It does not much matter what they would say," he an- 
 swered, still keeping his teeth together as if doubtful of their 
 courage. "As for what they would do, that is certain; they 
 would put me out of my church."
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 125 
 
 "And it is dear to you?" 
 
 "Dearer than life." 
 
 "You told me long ago that your mother's heart would 
 break if — " 
 
 "Yes, I am sure it would." 
 
 They had begun to climb the fields, but she stopped him 
 with a jerk. 
 
 "Go back, Mr. Dishart," she implored, clutching his arm 
 with both hands. "You make me very unhappy for no pur- 
 pose. Oh, why should you risk so much for me ?" 
 
 "I cannot have you wandering here alone at midnight," 
 Gavin answered, gently. 
 
 "That is nothing to me," she said, eagerly, but no longer 
 resenting his air of proprietorship. 
 
 "You will never do it again if I can prevent it." 
 
 "But you cannot," she said, sadly. "Oh. yes, you can, Mr. 
 Dishart. If you will turn back now I shall promise never to 
 do anything again without first asking myself whether it 
 would seem right to you. I know I acted very wrongly to- 
 night." 
 
 "Only thoughtlessly," he said. 
 
 "Then have pity on me," she besought him, "and go back. 
 If I have only been thoughtless, how can you punish me 
 thus? Mr. Dishart," she entreated, her voice breaking, "if 
 you were to suffer for this folly of mine, do vou think I could 
 live?" 
 
 "We are in God's hands, dear," he answered, firmly, and 
 he again drew her arm to him. So they climbed the first 
 field, and were almost at the hill before either spoke again. 
 
 "Stop," Babbie whispered, crouching as she spoke ; "I see 
 some one crossing the hill." 
 
 "I have seen him for some time," Gavin answered, quietly; 
 "but I am doing no wrong, and I will not hide." 
 
 The Egyptian had to walk on with him, and I suppose she 
 did not think the less of him for that. Yet she said, warn- 
 ingly : 
 
 "If he sees you, all Thrums will be in an uproar before 
 morning." 
 
 "I cannot help that," Gavin replied. "It is the will of 
 God." 
 
 "To ruin vou for my sins?" 
 
 "If He thinks fit." 
 
 The figure drew nearer, and with every step Babbie's dis- 
 tress doubled.
 
 126 THE LITTLE :MIXISTER 
 
 "We are walking straight to him/' she whispered. "I 
 implore you to wait here until he passes, if not for your 
 own sake, for your mother's." 
 
 At that he wavered, and she heard his teeth sliding against 
 each other, as if he could no longer clench them. 
 
 "But, no," he said, moving on again, "I will not be a 
 skulker from any man. If it be God's wish that I should 
 suffer for this, I must suffer." 
 
 "Oh, why," cried Babbie, beating her hands together in 
 grief, "should you suffer for me ?" 
 
 "You are mine," Gavin answered. Babbie gasped. "And 
 if you act foolishly," he continued, "it is right that I should 
 bear the brunt of it. No, I will not let you go on alone ; you 
 are not fit to be alone. You need some one to watch over 
 you, and care for you, and love you, and, if need be, to 
 suffer with you." 
 
 "Turn back, dear, before he sees us." 
 
 "He has seen us." 
 
 Yes, I had seen them, for the figure on the hill was no 
 other than the dominie of Glen Quharity. The park gate 
 clicked as it swung to, and I looked up and saw Gavin and 
 the Eg)-ptian. My eyes should have found them sooner, 
 but it was to gaze upon Margaret's home, while no one saw 
 me, that I had trudged into Thrums so late, and by that 
 time, I suppose, my eyes were of little service for seeing 
 through. Yet, when I knew that of these two people suddenly 
 beside me on the hill, one was the little minister, and the 
 other a strange woman, I fell back from their side with 
 dread before I could step forward and cry "Gavin !" 
 
 "I am Mr. Dishart," he answered, with a composure that 
 would not have served him for another sentence. He was 
 more excited than I, for the "Gavin" fell harmlessly on him, 
 while I had no sooner uttered it than there rushed through 
 me the shame of being false to Margaret. It was the only 
 time in my life that I forgot her in him, though he has ever 
 stood ne.xt to her in my regard. 
 
 I looked from Gavin to the gypsy woman, and again from 
 her to him, and she began to tell a lie in his interest. But 
 she got no further than "I met Mr. Dishart accid — " when 
 she stopped, ashamed, ft was reverence for Gavin that 
 checked the lie. Not every man has had such a compliment 
 paid him. 
 
 "It is natural," Gavin said, slowly, "that you, sir, should 
 ■wonder whv I am here with this woman at such an hour.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 127 
 
 and you may know nie so little as to think ill of me for 
 it." 
 
 I did not answer, and he misunderstood my silence. 
 
 "Xo," he continued, in a harder voice, as if I had asked 
 him a question, ""I will explain nothing to you. You are not 
 my judge. If you would do me harm, sir, you have it in 
 your power.'' 
 
 It was with these cruel words that Gavin addressed me. 
 He did not know how cruel they were. The Eg}-ptian, I 
 think, must "have seen that his suspicions hurt me, for she 
 said, softly, with a look of appeal in her eyes : 
 
 "You are the schoolmaster in Glen Quharity? Then you 
 will perhaps save rvlr. Dishart the trouble of coming farther, 
 by showing me the way to old Nanny Webster's house at 
 Windyghoul ?" 
 
 "I have to pass the house, at any rate," I answered, 
 eagerly, and she came quickly to my side. 
 
 I knew, though in the darkness I could see but vaguely, 
 that Gavin was holding his head high, and waiting for me to 
 say my worst. I had not told him that I dared think no evil 
 of him, and he still suspected me. Now I would not trust 
 myself to speak, lest I should betray Margaret, and yet I 
 wanted him to know that base doubts about him could never 
 find a shelter in me. I am a timid man, who long ago lost 
 the glory of my life by it, and I was again timid when I 
 sought to let Gavin see that my faith in him was unshaken. 
 I lifted my bonnet to the gj'psy. and asked her to take my 
 arm. It was done clumsily, I cannot doubt, but he read my 
 meaning, and held out his hand to me. I had not touched 
 it since he was three years old, and I trembled too much to 
 give it the grasp I owed it. He and I parted without a 
 word, but to the Eg\-ptian he said, "To-morrow, dear, I 
 will see you at Nanny's," and he was to kiss her, but I 
 pulled her a step farther from him. and she put her hands 
 over her face, crying. "No, no!" 
 
 If I asked her some questions between the hill and Windy- 
 ghoul you must not blame me, for this was my affair as well 
 as theirs. She did not answer me ; I know nnw that she did 
 not hear me. But at the mud house she looked abruptly into 
 my face, and said : 
 
 "You love him, too!" 
 
 I trudged to the schoolhouse with these words for com- 
 pany, and it was less her discovery than her confession that 
 tortured me. How much I slept that night you may guess.
 
 128 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE NEW WORLD, AND THE WOMAN WHO MAY NOT DWELL 
 THEREIN. 
 
 Up here in the glen schoolhouse, after my pupils have 
 straggled home, there comes to me at times, and so sudden 
 that it may be while I am infusing my tea, a hot desire 
 to write great books. Perhaps an hour afterwards I rise, 
 beaten, from my desk, flinging all I have written into the 
 fire (yet rescuing some of it on second thought), and curse 
 myself as an ingle-nook man, for I see that one can only 
 paint what he himself has felt, and in my passion I wish 
 to have all the vices, even to being an impious man, that 
 I may describe them better. For this may I be pardoned. 
 It comes to nothing in the end, save that my tea is brackish. 
 
 Yet though my solitary life in the glen is cheating me of 
 many experiences, more helpful to a writer than to a Chris- 
 tian, it has not been so tame but that I can understand why 
 Babbie cried when she went into Nanny's garden and saw the 
 new world. Let no one who loves be called altogether un- 
 happy. Even love unreturned has its rainbow, and Babbie 
 knew that Gavin loved her. Yet she stood in woe among the 
 stiff berry bushes, as one who stretches forth her hands to 
 Love and sees him looking for her, and knows she must 
 shrink from the arms she would lie in, and only call to him 
 in a voice he cannot hear. This is not a love that is always 
 bitter. It grows sweet with age. But could that dry the 
 tears of the little Egyptian, who had only been a woman 
 for a day? 
 
 Much was still dark to her. Of one obstacle that must keep 
 her and Gavin ever apart she knew, and he did not; but had 
 it been removed she would have given herself to him humbly, 
 not in her own longing, but because he wanted her. "Be- 
 hold what I am," she could have said to him then, and left 
 the rest to him, believing that her unworthiness would not 
 drag him down, it would lose itself so readily in his strength. 
 That Thrums could rise against such a man if he defied it, 
 she did not believe; but she was to learn the truth presently 
 from a child. 
 
 To most of us, I suppose, has come some shock that 
 was to make us different men from that hour, and yet, how 
 many days elapsed before something of the man we had been
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 129 
 
 leapt up in us? Babbie thought she had buried her old im- 
 pulsiveness, and then remembering that from the top of the 
 field she might see Gavin returning from church, she has- 
 tened to the hill to look upon him from a distance. Before she 
 reached the gate where 1 had met her and him, however, she 
 stopped, distressed at her selfishness, and asked, bitterly, 
 "Why am I so different from other women ; why should what 
 is so easy to them be so hard to me ?" 
 
 "Gavin, my beloved!" the Egyptian cried, in her agony, 
 and the wind caught her words and fiung them in the air, 
 making sport of her. 
 
 She wandered westward over the bleak hill, and by and by 
 came to a great slab called the Standing Stone, on which 
 children often sit and muse until they see gay ladies riding 
 by on palfreys — a kind of horse — and knights in glittering 
 armour, and goblins, and fiery dragons, and other wonders 
 now extinct, of which bare-legged laddies dream, as well as 
 boys in socks. The Standing Stone is in the dyke that sepa- 
 rates the hill from a fir wood, and it is the fairy-book of 
 Thrums. If you would be a knight yourself, you must sit on 
 it and whisper to it your desire. 
 
 Babbie came to the Standing Stone, and there was a little 
 boy astride it. His hair stood up through holes in his bon- 
 net, and he was very ragged and miserable. 
 
 "Why are you crying, little boy?" Babbie asked him, 
 gently ; but he did not look up, and the tongue was strange 
 to him. 
 
 "How are you greeting so sair?" she asked. 
 
 "I'm no greeting very sair," he answered, turning his head 
 from her that a woman might not see his tears. "I'm no 
 greeting so sair but what I grat sairer when my mither died." 
 
 "When did she die?" Babbie inquired. 
 
 "Lang syne," he answered, still with averted facfi^ 
 
 "What is your name ?" 
 
 "Micah is my name. Rob Dow's my father." 
 
 "And have you no brothers nor sisters?" asked Babbie, 
 with a fellow feeling for him. 
 
 "No, juist my father," he said. 
 
 "You should be the better laddie to him then. Did your 
 mither no tell you to be that afore she died?" 
 
 "Ay," he answered, "she telled me aye to hide the bottle 
 frae him when I could get haed o't. She took me into the 
 bed to make me promise that, and syne she died." 
 
 "Does your father drink ?"
 
 130 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "He bauds niair than any other man in Thrums," Micah 
 repHed, almost proudly. 
 
 '"And he strikes you?" Babbie asked, compassionately. 
 
 "That's a lie," retorted the boy, fiercely. "Leastwise, he 
 doesna strike me except when he's mortal, and syne I can 
 jouk him." 
 
 "What are you doing there ?" 
 
 "I'm wishing. It's a wishing stane." 
 
 "You are wishing your father wouldna drink." 
 
 "No, I'm no," answered Micah. "There was a lang time 
 he didna drink, but the woman has sent him to it again. It's 
 about her I'm wishing. I'm wishing she was in hell." 
 
 "What woman is it?" asked Babbie, shuddering. 
 
 "I dinna ken," Micah said, "but she's an ill ane." 
 
 "Did you never see her at your father's hous€ ?" 
 
 "Na ; if he could get grip o' her he would break her ower 
 his knee. I hearken to him saying that, when he's wild. He 
 says she should be burned for a witch." 
 
 "But if he hates her," asked Babbie, "how can she have 
 sic power ower him?" 
 
 "It's no him that she has baud o'," replied Micah, still look- 
 ing away from her. 
 
 "Wha is it, then?" 
 
 "It's Mr. Dishart." 
 
 Babbie was struck as if by an arrow from the wood. It 
 was so unexpected that she gave a cry, and then for the first 
 time Micah looked at her. 
 
 "How should that send your father to the drink?" she 
 asked, with an effort. 
 
 "Because my father's michty fond o' him," answered Micah, 
 staring strangely at her ; "and when the folk ken about the 
 woman, they'll stane the minister cut o' Thrums." 
 
 The wood faded for a moment from the Egyptian's sight. 
 When it came back, the boy had slid off the Standing Stone, 
 and was stealing away. 
 
 "Why do you run frae me?" Babbie asked, pathetically, 
 
 "I'm fleid at you," he gasped, coming to a standstill at a 
 safe distance; "you're the woman!" 
 
 Babbie cowered before her little judge, and he drew nearer 
 her slowly. 
 
 "What makes you think that?" she said. 
 
 It was a curious time for Babbie's beauty to be paid its 
 most princely compliment. 
 
 "Because you're so bonny," Micah v/hispered across the
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 131 
 
 dyke. Her tears gave him courage. "You micht gang awa," 
 he entreated. "If you kent what a differ Mr. Dishart made 
 in my father till you came, you would maybe gang awa. 
 When he's roaring fou I have to sleep in the wood, and it's 
 awfu' cauld. I'm doubting he'll kill me, woman, if you dinna 
 gang awa." 
 
 Poor Babbie put her hand to her heart, but the innocent 
 lad continued, mercilessly : 
 
 "If ony shame comes to the minister, his auld mither'll die. 
 How have you sic an ill-will at the minister?" 
 
 Babbie held up her hands like a supplicant. 
 
 "I'll gie you my rabbit," Micah said, "if you'll gang awa. 
 I've juist the ane." She shook her head, and, misunderstand- 
 ing her, he cried, with his knuckles in his eye, "I'll gie you 
 them baith, though I'm michty sweer to part wi' Spotty." 
 
 Then at last Babbie found her voice. 
 
 "Keep your rabbits, laddie," she said, "and greet no more. 
 I'm gaen awa." 
 
 "And you'll never come back no more a' your life?" pleaded 
 Micah. 
 
 "Never no more a' my life," repeated Babbie. 
 
 "And ye'll leave the minister alane for ever and ever?" 
 
 "For ever and ever." 
 
 Micah rubbed his face dry, and said, "Will you let me 
 stand on the Standing Stane and watch you gaen awa for 
 ever and ever?" 
 
 At that a sob broke from Babbie's heart, and looking at 
 her doubtfully, Micah said : 
 
 "Maybe you're gey ill for what you've done ?" 
 
 "Ay," Babbie answered, "I'm gey ill for what I've 
 done." 
 
 A minute passed, and in her anguish she did not know that 
 still she was standing at the dyke. Micah's voice roused her : 
 
 "You said you would gang awa, and you're no gaen." 
 
 Then Babbie went away. The boy watched her across the 
 hill. He climbed the Standing Stone and gazed after her 
 until she was but a coloured ribbon among the broom. When 
 she disappeared into Windyghoul he ran home joyfully, and 
 told his father what a good day's work he had done. Rob 
 struck him for a fool for taking a gypsy's word, and warned 
 him against speaking of the woman in Thrums. 
 
 But though Dow believed that Gavin continued to meet 
 the Egyptian secretly, he was wrong. A sum of money for 
 Nanny was sent to the minister, but he could guess only from
 
 132 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 whom it came. In vain did he search for Babbie. Some 
 months passed and he gave up the search, persuaded that he 
 should see her no more. He went about his duties with a 
 drawn face that made many folk uneasy when it was stern, 
 and pained them when it tried to smile. But to Margaret, 
 though the effort was terrible, he was as he had ever been, 
 and so no thought of a woman crossed her loving breast. 
 
 CHAPTER XXHI. 
 
 BEGINNING OF THE TWENTY-FOUR HOURS. 
 
 I CAN tell still how the whole of the glen was engaged 
 about the hour of noon on the fourth of August month ; a 
 day to be among the last forgotten by any of us, though it 
 began as quietly as a roaring March. At the Spittal, between 
 which and Thrums this is a half-way house, were gathered 
 two hundred men in kilts, and many gentry from the neigh- 
 bouring glens, to celebrate the earl's marriage, which was 
 to take place on the morrow, and thither, too, had gone many 
 of my pupils to gather gossip, at which girls of six are 
 trustier hands than boys of twelve. Those of us, however, 
 who were neither children nor of gentle blood, remained at 
 home, the farmers more taken up with the want of rain, now 
 become a calamity, than with an old man's wedding, and their 
 women-folk wringing their hands for rain also, yet finding 
 time to marvel at the marriage's taking place at the Spittal 
 instead of in England, of which the ignorant spoke vaguely 
 as an estate of the bride's. 
 
 For my own part I could talk of the disastrous drought with 
 Waster Lunny as I walked over his parched fields, but I had 
 not such cause as he to brood upon it by day and night; and 
 the ins and outs of the earl's marriage were for discussing at 
 a tea-table, where there were women to help one to conclu- 
 sions, rather than for the reflections of a solitary dominie, 
 who had seen neither bride nor bridegroom. So it must be 
 confessed that when I might have been regarding the sky 
 moodily, or at the Spittal, where a free table that day invited 
 all, I was sitting in the schoolhouse, heeling my left boot, 
 on which I have always been a little hard. 
 
 I made small speed, not through lack of craft, but because 
 one can no more drive in tackets properly than take cities
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 133 
 
 unless he gives his whole mind to it; and half of mine was 
 at the Auld Licht manse. Since our meeting six months 
 earlier on the hill I had not seen Gavin, but I had heard 
 much of him, and of a kind to trouble me. 
 
 Wearyworld hobbled after mc up the Roods one day, pelt- 
 ing me with remarks, though I was doing my best to get 
 away from him. "Even Rob Dow sees there's something 
 come ower the minister," he bawled, "for Rob's fou ilka Sab- 
 bath now. Ay, but this I will say for Mr. Dishart, that he 
 aye gies me a civil word." I thought I had left the police- 
 man behind with this, but next minute he roared, "And what- 
 ever is the matter wi' him it has made him kindlier to me 
 than ever." He must have taken the short cut through 
 Lunan's close, for at the top of the Roods his voice again 
 made up on me. "Dagone you, for a cruel pack to put your 
 fingers to your lugs ilka time I open my mouth," 
 
 As for Waster Lunny's daughter Easie, who got her school- 
 ing free for redding up the schoolhouse and breaking my 
 furniture, she would never have been off the gossip about 
 the minister, for she was her mother in miniature, with a 
 tongue that ran like a pump after the pans are full, not for 
 use but for the mere pleasure of spilling. 
 
 On that awful fourth of August I not only had all this 
 confused talk in my head, but reason for jumping my mind 
 between it and the Egyptian (as if to catch them together 
 unawares), and I was like one who, with the mechanism of a 
 watch jumbled in his hand, could set it going if he had the art. 
 
 Of the gypsy I knew nothing save what I had seen that 
 night, yet what more was there to learn ? I was aware that 
 she loved Gavin and that he loved her. A moment had shown 
 it to me. Now with the Auld Lichts, I have the smith's 
 acquaintance with his irons, and so I could not believe that 
 they would suffer their minister to marry a vagrant. Had 
 it not been for this knowledge, which made me fearful for 
 Margaret, I would have done nothing to keep these two young 
 people apart. Some to whom I have said this maintain that 
 the Egj'ptian turned my head at our first meeting. Such an 
 argument is not perhaps worth controverting. I admit that 
 even now I straighten under the fire of a bright eye, as a 
 pensioner may salute when he sees a young officer. In the 
 shooting season, should I chance to be leaning over my dyke 
 while English sportsmen pass (as is usually the case if I 
 have seen them approaching), I remember naught of them 
 save that they call me "she," and end their greetings with
 
 134 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "whatever" (which Waster Lunny takes to be a southron 
 mode of speech), but their ladies dwell pleasantly in my 
 memory, from their engaging faces to the pretty crumpled 
 thing dangling on their arms, that is a hat or a basket, I am 
 seldom sure which. The Egyptian's beauty, therefore, was a 
 gladsome sight to me, and none the less so that I had come 
 upon it as unexpectedly as some men step into a bog. Had 
 she been alone when I met her I cannot deny that I would 
 have been content to look on her face, without caring what 
 was inside it ; but she was with her lover, and that lover was 
 Gavin, and so her face was to me as little for admiring as 
 this glen in a thunderstorm, when I know that some fellow 
 creature is lost on the hills. 
 
 If, however, it was no quick liking for the gypsy that almost 
 tempted me to leave these two lovers to each other, what was 
 it? It was the warning of my own life. Adam Dishart had 
 torn my arm from Margaret's, and I had not recovered the 
 wrench in eighteen years. Rather than act his part between 
 these two I felt tempted to tell them, "Deplorable as the result 
 may be, if you who are a minister marry this vagabond, it will 
 be still more deplorable if you do not." 
 
 But there was INIargaret to consider, and at thought of her 
 I cursed the Egyptian aloud. What could I do to keep Gavin 
 and the woman apart? I could tell him the secret of his 
 mother's life. Would that be sufficient? It would if he loved 
 Margaret, as I did not doubt. Pity for her would make him 
 undergo any torture rather than she should suffer again. 
 But to divulge our old connection would entail her discovery 
 of me, and I questioned if even the saving of Gavin could 
 destroy the bitterness of that. 
 
 I might appeal to the Egyptian. I might tell her even 
 what I shuddered to tell him. She cared for him, I was sure, 
 well enough to have the courage to give him up. But where 
 was I to find her? 
 
 Were she and Gavin meeting still ? Perhaps the change 
 which had come over the little minister meant that they had 
 parted. Yet what I had heard him say to her on the hill 
 warned me not to trust in any such solution of the trouble. 
 
 From my window I saw a string of people walking rapidly 
 down the glen, and Waster Lunny crossing his potato field to 
 meet them. Remembering that, though I was in my stocking 
 soles, the ground was dry, I hastened to join the farmer, for 
 I like to miss nothing. I saw a curious sight. In front of 
 the little procession coming down the glen road, and so much
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 135 
 
 more impressive than his satellites that they may be put out 
 of mind as merely ploughmen and the like following a show, 
 was a Highlander that I knew to be Lauchlan Campbell, one 
 of the pipers engaged to lend music to the earl's marriage. 
 He had the name of a thrawn man when sober, but pretty 
 at the pipes at both times, and he came marching down the 
 glen blowing gloriously, as if he had the clan of Campbell 
 at his heels. I know no man who is so capable on occasion 
 of looking like twenty as a Highland piper, and never have 
 I seen a face in such a blaze of passion as was Lauchlan 
 Campbell's that day. His following were keeping out of his 
 reach, jumping back every time he turned round to shake his 
 fist in the direction of the Spittal. While this magnificent 
 man was yet some yards from us, I saw Waster Lunny, who 
 had been in the middle of the road to ask questions, fall back 
 in fear, and not being a fighting man myself, I jumped the 
 dyke. Lauchlan gave me a look that sent me farther into the 
 field, and strutted past, shrieking defiance through his pipes, 
 until I lost him and his followers in a bend of the road. 
 
 "That's a terrifying spectacle," I heard Waster Lunny say 
 when the music had become but a distant squeal. "You're 
 bonny at louping dykes, dominie, when there is a wild bull 
 in front o' you. Na, I canna tell what has happened, but at 
 the least Lauchlan maun hae dirked the earl. Thae loons 
 cried out to me as they gaed by that he has been blaw- 
 ing awa' at that tune till he canna halt. What a wind's 
 in the crittur ! I'm thinking there's a hell in ilka High- 
 landman." 
 
 "Take care, then. Waster Lunny, that you dinna licht it,'*' 
 said an angry voice that made us jump, though it was only 
 Duncan, the farmer's shepherd, who spoke. 
 
 'T had forgotten you was a Highlandman yoursel', Dun- 
 can," Waster Lunny said, nervously ; but Elspeth, who had 
 come to us unnoticed, ordered the shepherd to return to the 
 hillside, which he did haughtily. 
 
 "How did you no lay baud on that blast o' wind, Lauchlan 
 Campbell," asked Elspeth of her husband, "and speir at him 
 what had happened at the Spittal ? A quarrel afore a mar- 
 riage brings ill luck." 
 
 "I'm thinking," said the farmer, "that Rintoul's making his 
 ain ill luck by marrying on a young leddy." 
 
 "A man's never ower auld to marn,'," said Elspeth. 
 
 "No, nor a woman," rejoined Waster Lunny, "when she 
 gets the chance. But, Elspeth, I believe I can guess what
 
 136 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 has fired that fearsome piper. Depend upon it, somebody has 
 been speaking disrespectful about the crittur's ancestors." 
 
 "His ancestors!" exclaimed Elspeth, scornfully. "I'm 
 thinking mine could hae bocht them at a crown the dozen." 
 
 "Hoots," said the farmer, "you're o' a weaving stock, and 
 dinna understand about ancestors. Take a stick to a High- 
 land laddie, and it's no him you hurt, but his ancestors. Like- 
 wise it's his ancestors that stanes you for it. When Duncan 
 stalked awa the now, what think you he saw? He saw a 
 farmer's wife dauring to order about his ancestors; and if 
 that's the way wi' a shepherd, what will it be wi' a piper 
 that has the kilts on him a' day to mind him o' his ancestors 
 ilka time he looks down?" 
 
 Elspeth retired to discuss the probable disturbance at the 
 Spittal with her family, giving Waster Lunny the opportunity 
 of saying to me impressively : 
 
 "Man, man, has it never crossed you that it's a queer thing 
 the like o' you and me having no ancestors? Ay, we had 
 them in a manner o' speaking, no doubt, but they're as com- 
 pletely lost sicht o' as a flagon lid that's fallen ahint the 
 dresser. Hech, sirs, but they would need a gey rubbing to 
 get the rust off them now. I've been thinking that if I was 
 to get my laddies to say their grandfather's name a curran 
 times ilka day, like the Catechism, and they were to do the 
 same wi' their bairns, and it was continued in future genera- 
 tions, we micht raise a fell field o' ancestors in time. Ay, 
 but Elspeth wouldna hear o't. Nothing angers her mair 
 than to hear me speak o' planting trees for the benefit o' 
 them that's to be farmers here after me ; and as for ancestors, 
 she would howk them up as quick as I could plant them. 
 Losh, dominie, is that a boot in your hand?" 
 
 To my mortification I saw that I had run out of the school- 
 house with the boot on my hand as if it were a glove, and 
 back I went straightway, blaming myself for a man wanting 
 in dignity. It was but a minor trouble this, however, even at 
 the time ; and to recall it later in the day was to look back 
 on happiness, for though I did not know it yet, Lauchlan's 
 playing raised the curtain on the great act of Gavin's life, 
 and the twenty-four hours had begun, to which all I have told 
 as } et is no more than Ihe prologue.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 137 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 SCENE AT THE SPITTAL. 
 
 Within an hour after I had left him, Waster Lunny 
 walked into the schoolhouse and handed me his snuff-mull, 
 which I declined politely. It was with this ceremony that 
 we usually opened our conversations. 
 
 "I've seen the post," he said, "and he tells me there has 
 been a queer ploy at the Spittal. It's a wonder the marriage 
 hasna been turned into a burial, and all because o' that High- 
 land stirk, Lauchlan Campbell." 
 
 Waster Lunny was a man who had to retrace his steps in 
 telling a story if he tried short cuts, and so my custom was 
 to wait patiently while he delved through the ploughed fields 
 that always lay between him and his destination. 
 
 "As you ken, Rintoul's so little o' a Scotchman that he's 
 no muckle better than an Englisher. That maun be the rea- 
 bon he hadna mair sense than to tramp on a Highlandman's 
 ancestors, as he tried to tramp on Lauchla/i's this day." 
 
 "If Lord Rintoul insulted the piper," I suggested, giving 
 the farmer a helping hand cautiously, "it would be through 
 inadvertence. Rintoul only bought the Spittal a year ago, and 
 until then, I daresay, he had seldom been on our side of the 
 Border." 
 
 "But what was the insult? Was Lauchlan dismissed?" 
 
 "Na, faags ! It was waur than that. Dominie, you're 
 dull in the uptake compared to Elspeth. I hadna telled her 
 half the story afore she jaloused the rest. However, to be- 
 gin again; there's great feasting and rejoicings gaen on at 
 the Spittal the now, and also a banquet, which the post says 
 is twa dinners in one. Weel, there's a curran Ogilvys among' 
 the guests, and it was them that egged on her little leddyship 
 to make the daring proposal to the earl. What was the pro- 
 posal? It was no less than that the twa pipers should be 
 ordered to play 'The Bonny House o' Airlie.' Dominie, I 
 wonder you can tak it so calm when you ken that's the 
 Ogilvys' sang, and that it's aimed at the clan o' Campbell." 
 
 "Pooh !" I said. "The Ogilvys and the Campbells used 
 to be mortal enemies, but the feud has been long forgotten." 
 
 "Ay, I've heard tell," Waster Lunny said, sceptically, "that 
 Airlie and Argyle shakes hands now like Christians; but 
 I'm thinking that's just afore the Queen. Dinna speak now,
 
 138 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 for I'm in the thick o't. Her little leddyship was all hinging 
 in gold and jewels, the which winna be her ain till the morn; 
 and she leans ower to the earl and whispers to him to get 
 the pipers to play 'The Bonny House.' He wasna willing, 
 for says he, 'There's Ogilvys at the table, and ane o' the 
 pipers is a Campbell, and we'll better let sleeping dogs lie.' 
 However, the Ogilvys lauched at his caution ; and he was so 
 infatuated wi' her little leddyship that he gae in, and he cried 
 out to the pipers to strike up 'The Bonny House.' " 
 
 Waster Lunny pulled his chair nearer me and rested his 
 hand on my knees. 
 
 "Dominie," he said, in a voice that fell now and again 
 into a whisper, "them looking on swears that when Lauchlan 
 Campbell heard these monstrous orders his face became ugly 
 and black, so that they kent in a jiffy what he would do. 
 It's said a' body jumped back frae him in a sudden dread, 
 except poor Angus, the other piper, wha was busy tuning up 
 for 'The Bonny House.' Weel, Angus had got no further 
 in the tune than the first skirl when Lauchlan louped at him, 
 and ripped up the startled crittur's pipes wi' his dirk. The 
 pipes gae a roar o' agony like a stuck swine, and fell gasping 
 on the floor. What happened next was that Lauchlan, wi' 
 his dirk handy for onybody that micht try to stop him, 
 marched once round the table, playing 'The Campbells are 
 Coming,' and then straucht out o' the Spittal, his chest far 
 afore him, and his head so weel back that he could see what 
 was going on ahint. Frae the Spittal to here he never 
 stopped that fearsome tune, and I'se warrant he's blawing 
 away at it at this moment through the streets o' Thrums." 
 
 Waster Lunny was not in his usual spirits, or he would 
 have repeated his story before he left me, for he had usu- 
 ally as much difficulty in coming to an end as in finding a 
 beginning. The drought was to him as serious a matter as. 
 death in the house, and as little to be forgotten for a length- 
 ened period. 
 
 "There's to be a prayer-meeting for rain in the Auld Licht 
 kirk the night," he told me as I escorted him as far as my 
 side of the Ouharity, now almost a dead stream, pitiable to 
 see, "and I'm gaen; though I'm sweer to leave thae puir 
 cattle o' mine. You shjuld see how they look at me when 
 I gie them mair o' that rotten grass to eat. It's eneuch 
 to mak a man greet, for what richt hae I to keep kye when 
 I canna meat them ?" 
 
 Waster Lunny has said to me more than once that the-
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 189 
 
 great surprise of his life was when Elspeth was willing 
 to take him. Many a time, however, I have seen that in 
 him which might have made any weaver's daughter proud of 
 such a man, and I saw it again when we came to the river- 
 side. 
 
 "I'm no ane o' thae farmers," he said, truthfully, "that's 
 aye girding at the weather, and Elspeth and me kens that 
 we hae been dealt wi' bountifully since we took this farm 
 wi' gey anxious hearts. That woman, dominie, is eneuch to 
 put a brave face on a coward, and it's no langer syne than 
 yestreen when I was sitting in the dumps, looking at the 
 aurora borealis, which I canna but regard as a messenger o' 
 woe, that she put her hand on my shoulder and she says, 
 'Waster Lunny, twenty years syne we began life thegither 
 wi' nothing but the claethes on our back, and an it please 
 God we can begin it again, for I hae you, and you hae me, 
 and I'm no cast down if you're no.' Dominie, is there mony 
 sic women in the warld as that?" 
 
 "Many a one," I said. 
 
 "Ay, man, it shamed me, for I hae a kind o' delight in 
 angering Elspeth, just to see what she'll say. I could hae 
 ta'en her on my knee at that minute, but the bairns was 
 there, and so it wouldna hae dune. But I cheered her up, for, 
 after all, the drought canna put us so far back as we was 
 twenty years syne, unless it's true what my father said, that 
 the aurora borealis is the devil's rainbow. I saw it sax times 
 in July month, and it made me shut my een. You was out 
 admiring it, dominie, but I can never forget that it was seen 
 in the year twelve just afore the great storm. I was only 
 a laddie then, but I mind how that awful wind stripped a' 
 the standing corn in the glen in less time than we've been 
 here at the water's edge. It was called the deil's besom. My 
 father's hinmost words to me was, 'It's time eneuch to greet, 
 laddie, when you see the aurora borealis.' I mind he was 
 so complete ruined in an hour that he had to apply for 
 relief frae the poor's rates. Think o' that, and him a proud 
 man. He would tak nothing till one winter day when we was 
 a' starving, and syne I gaed wi' him to speir for't, and he 
 telled me to grip his hand ticht, so that the cauldness o' mine 
 micht gie him courage. They were doling out the charity 
 in the Town's House, and I had never been in't afore. I 
 canna look at it now without thinking o' that day when me 
 and my father gaed up the stair the gither. Mr. Duthie 
 was presiding at the time, and he wasna muckle older than
 
 140 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 Mr. Dishart is now. I mind he speired for proof that we 
 was needing, and my father couldna speak. He just pointed 
 at me. 'But you have a good coat on your back yoursel',' 
 Mr. Duthie said, for there were mony waiting, sair needing, 
 'It was lended him to come here,' I cried, and without a 
 word my father opened the coat, and they saw he had nothing 
 on aneath, and his skin blue wi' cauld. Dominie, Mr. Duthie 
 handed him one shilUng and saxpence, and my father's fingers 
 closed greedily on't for a minute, and syne it fell to the 
 ground. They put it back in his hand, and it slipped out 
 again, and Mr. Duthie gave it back to him, saying, 'Are 
 you so cauld as that?' But, oh, man, it wasna cauld that 
 did it, but shame o' being on the rates. The blood a' ran 
 to my father's head, and syne left it as quick, and he flung 
 down the siller and walked out o' the Town House wi' me 
 running after him. We warstled through that winter, God 
 kens how, and it's near a pleasure to me to think o't now, 
 for, rain or no rain, I can never be reduced to sic straits 
 again." 
 
 The farmer crossed the water without using the stilts which 
 were no longer necessary, and I little thought, as I returned 
 to the schoolhouse, what terrible things were to happen before 
 he could offer me his snuff-mull again. Serious as his talk 
 had been, it was neither of drought nor of the incident at 
 the Spittal that I sat down to think. My anxiety about 
 Gavin came back to me until I was like a man imprisoned 
 between walls of his own building. It may be that my pre- 
 sentiments of that afternoon look gloomier now than they 
 were, because I cannot return to them save over a night of 
 agony, black enough to darken any time connected with it. 
 Perhaps my spirits only fell as the wind rose, for wind ever 
 takes me back to Harvie, and when I think of Harvie my 
 thoughts are of the saddest. I know that I sat for some 
 hours, now seeing Gavin pay the penalty of marrying the 
 Egyptian, and again drifting back to my days with Mar- 
 garet, until the wind took to playing tricks with me, so 
 that I heard Adam Dishart enter our home by the sea every 
 time the schoolhouse door shook. 
 
 I became used to the illusion after starting several times, 
 and thus when the door did open, about seven o'clock, it 
 was only the wind rushing to my fire like a shivering dog 
 that made me turn my head. Then I saw the Egyptian 
 staring at me, and though her sudden appearance on my 
 threshold was a strange thing, I forgot it in the whiteness
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 141 
 
 of her face. She was looking at me like one who has asked 
 a question of life or death, and stopped her heart for the 
 reply. 
 
 "What is it?" I cried, and for a moment I believe I was 
 glad she did not answer. She seemed to have told me already 
 as much as I could bear. 
 
 "He has not heard," she said aloud, in an expressionless 
 voice, and, turning, would have slipped away without another 
 word. 
 
 "Is any one dead ?" I asked, seizing her hands and letting 
 them fall, they were so clammy. She nodded, and trying 
 to speak could not. 
 
 "He is dead," she said at last, in a whisper. "Mr. Dishart 
 is dead," and she sat down quietly. 
 
 At that I covered my face, crying, "God help Margaret !" 
 and then she rose, saying fiercely, so that I drew back from 
 her, "There is no Margaret; he only cared for me." 
 
 "She is his mother," I said, hoarsely, and then she smiled 
 to me, so that I thought her a harmless mad thing. "He was 
 killed by a piper called Lauchlan Campbell," she said, looking 
 up at me suddenly. "It was my fault." 
 
 "Poor Margaret !" I wailed. 
 
 "And poor Babbie," she entreated, pathetically; "will no 
 one say, 'Poor Babbie' ?" 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 FIRST JOURNEY OF THE DOMINIE TO THRUMS DURING THF 
 TWENTY-FOUR HOURS. 
 
 "How did it happen?" I asked more than once, but the 
 Egyptian was only with me in the body, and she did not 
 hear. I might have been talking to some one a mile away 
 whom a telescope had drawn near my eyes. 
 
 When I put on my bonnet, however, she knew that I was 
 going to Thrums, and she rose and walked to the door, look- 
 ing behind to see that I followed. 
 
 "You must not come," I said, harshly, but her hand started 
 to her heart as if I had shot her, and I added, quickly, 
 "Come." We were already some distance on our way before 
 I repeated my question. 
 
 "What matter how it happened?" she answered, piteously,
 
 142 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 and they were words of which I felt the force. But when 
 she said a Httle later, "I thought you would say it is not 
 true," I took courage, and forced her to tell rae all she knew. 
 She sobbed while she spoke, if one may sob without tears. 
 
 ''I heard of it at the Spittal," she said. ''The news broke 
 out suddenly there that the piper had quarrelled with some 
 one in Thrums, and that in trying to separate them Mr. 
 Dishart was stabbed. There is no doubt of its truth." 
 
 '"We should have heard of it here," I said, hopefully, "be- 
 fore the news reached the Spittal. It cannot be true." 
 
 'Tt was brought to the Spittal," she answered, "by the hill 
 road." 
 
 Then my spirits sank again, for I knew that this was 
 possible. There is a path, steep but short, across the hills 
 between Thrums and the top of the glen, which Mr. Glen- 
 dinning took frequently when he had to preach at both places 
 on the same Sabbath. It is still called the Minister's Road. 
 
 "Yet if the earl had believed it he would have sent some 
 one into Thrums for particulars," I said, grasping at such 
 comfort as I could make. 
 
 "He does believe it," she answered. "He told me of it 
 himself." 
 
 You see the Egyptian was careless of her secret now; but 
 what was that secret to me? An hour ago it would have 
 been much, and already it was not worth listening to. If 
 6he had begun to tell me why Lord Rintoul took a gypsy 
 girl into his confidence I should not have heard her. 
 
 'T ran quickly," she said. "Even if a messenger was sent 
 he might be behind me." 
 
 Was it her words or the tramp of a horse that made us 
 turn our heads at that moment? I know not. But far back 
 in a twist of the road we saw a horseman approaching at 
 such a reckless pace that I thought he was on a runaway. 
 We stopped instinctively, and waited for him, and twice he 
 disappeared in hollows of the road, and then was suddenly 
 tearing down upon us. I recognised in him young Mr. Mc- 
 Kenzie, a relative of Rintoul, and I stretched out my arms 
 to compel him to draw up. He misunderstood my motive, 
 and was raising his whip threateningly, when he saw the 
 Egyptian. It is not too much to say that he swayed in the 
 saddle. The horse galloped on, though he had lost hold of 
 the reins. He looked behind until he rounded a corner, and 
 I never saw such amazement mixed with incredulity on a 
 human face. For some minutes I expected to see him com-
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 143 
 
 ing back, but when he did not I said, wonderingly, to the 
 Egyptian : 
 
 "He knew you." 
 
 "Did he?" she answered, indifferently, and I think we spoke 
 no more until we were in Windyghoul. Soon we were barely 
 conscious of each other's presence. Never since have I 
 walked between the schoolhouse and Thrums in so short a 
 time, nor seen so little on the way. 
 
 In the Egyptian's eyes, I suppose, was a picture of Gavin 
 lying dead; but if her grief had killed her thinking facul- 
 ties, mine, that was only less keen because I had been struck 
 down once before, had set all the wheels of my brain in 
 action. For it seemed to me that the hour had come when 
 I must disclose myself to Margaret. 
 
 I had realised always that if such a necessity did arise 
 it could only be caused by Gavin's premature death, or by his 
 proving a bad son to her. Some may wonder that I could 
 have looked calmly thus far into the possible, but I reply 
 that the night of Adam Dishart's home-coming had made 
 of me a man whom the future could not surprise again. 
 Though I saw Gavin and his mother happy in our Auld 
 Licht manse, that did not prevent my considering the con- 
 tingencies which might leave her without a son. In the 
 schoolhouse I had brooded over them as one may think 
 over moves on a draught-board. It may have been idle, but 
 it was done that I might know how to act best for Margaret 
 if anything untoward occurred. The time for such action 
 had come. Gavin's death had struck me hard, but it did not 
 crush me. I was not unprepared. I was going to Margaret 
 now. 
 
 What did I see as I walked quickly along the glen road, 
 with Babbie silent by my side, and I doubt not pods of the 
 broom crackling all around us? I saw myself entering the 
 Auld Licht manse, where Margaret sat weeping over the 
 body of Gavin, and there was none to break my coming to 
 her, for none but she and I knew what had been. 
 
 I saw my Margaret again, so fragile now, so thin the 
 wrists, her hair turned gray. No nearer could I go, but 
 stopped at the door, grieving for her, and at last saying her 
 name aloud. 
 
 I saw her raise her face, and look upon me for the first 
 time for eighteen years. She did not scream at sight of 
 me, for the body of her son lay between us, and bridged 
 the gulf that Adam Dishart had made.
 
 144 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 I saw myself draw near her reverently and say, "Mar- 
 garet, he is dead, and that is why I have come back," and 
 I saw her put her arms round my neck as she often did 
 long ago. 
 
 But it was not to be. Never since that night at Harvie 
 have I spoken to Margaret. 
 
 The Egyptian and I were to come to Windyghoul before 
 I heard her speak. She was not addressing me. Here Gavin 
 and she had met first, and she was talking of that meeting 
 to herself. 
 
 ''It was there," I heard her say, softly, as she gazed at 
 the bush beneath which she had seen him shaking his fist at 
 her on the night of the riots. A little farther on she stopped 
 where a path from Windyghoul sets off for the well in the 
 wood. She looked up it wistfully, and there I left her 
 behind, and pressed on to the mud house to ask Nanny Web- 
 ster if the minister was dead. Nanny's gate was swinging 
 in the wind, but her door was shut, and for a moment I stood 
 at it like a coward, afraid to enter and hear the worst. 
 
 The house was empty. I turned from it relieved, as if 
 I had got a respite, and while I stood in the garden the 
 Egyptian came to me shuddering, her twitching face asking 
 the question that would not leave her lips. 
 
 "There is no one in the house," I said. "Nanny is perhaps 
 at the well." 
 
 But the gypsy went inside, and, pointing to the fire, said, 
 "It has been out for hours. Do you not see? The murder 
 has drawn every one into Thrums." 
 
 So I feared. A dreadful night was to pass before I knew 
 that this was the day of the release of Sanders Webster, and 
 that frail Nanny had walked into Tilliedrum to meet him at 
 the prison gate. 
 
 Babbie sank upon a stool, so weak that I doubt whether 
 she heard me tell her to wait there until my return. I hur- 
 ried into Thrums, not by the hill, though it is the shorter 
 way, but by the Roods, for I must hear all before I ventured 
 to approach the manse. From Windyghoul to the top of 
 the Roods, it is a climb and then a steep descent. The road 
 has no sooner reached its highest point than it begins to 
 fall in the straight line of houses called the Roods, and 
 thus I came upon a full view of the street at once. A cart 
 was labouring up it. There were women sitting on stones 
 at their doors, and girls playing at palaulays, and out of 
 the house nearest me came a black figure. My eyes failed
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 145 
 
 me; I was asking so much from them. They made him tall 
 and short, and spare and stout, so that I knew it was Gavin, 
 and yet, looking again, feared, but all the time, I think, I 
 knew it was he. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE HILL BEFORE DARKNESS FELL — SCENE OF THE IMPENDING 
 CATASTROPHE. 
 
 "You are better now?" I heard Gavin ask, presently. 
 
 He thought that having been taken ill suddenly I had 
 waved to him for help because he chanced to be near. With 
 all my wits about me I might have left him in that belief, 
 for rather would I have deceived him than had him wonder 
 why his welfare seemed so vital to me. But I, who thought 
 the capacity for being taken aback had gone from me, clung 
 to his arm, and thanked God audibly that he still lived. He 
 did not tell me then how my agitation puzzled him, but led 
 me kindly to the hill, where we could talk without listeners. 
 By the time we reached it I was again wary, and I had told 
 him what had brought me to Thrums, without mentioning 
 how the story of his death reached my ears, or through 
 whom. 
 
 "Mr. McKenzie," he said, interrupting me, "galloped all 
 the way from the Spittal on the same errand. However, no 
 one has been hurt much, except the piper himself." 
 
 Then he told me how the rumour arose. 
 
 "You know of the incident at the Spittal, and that Camp- 
 bell marched off in high dudgeon? I understand that he 
 spoke to no one between the Spittal and Thrums, but by the 
 time he arrived here he was more communicative, yes, and 
 thirstier. He was treated to drink in several public-houses 
 by persons who wanted to hear his story, and by and by he 
 began to drop hints of knowing something against the earl's 
 bride. Do you know Rob Dow ?" 
 
 "Yes," I answered, "and what you have done for him." 
 
 "Ah, sir !" he said, sighing, "for a long time I thought I 
 was to be God's instrument in making a better man of Rob, 
 but my power over him went long ago. Ten short months of 
 the ministry takes some of the vanity out of a man." 
 
 Looking sideways at him I was startled by the unnatural
 
 146 THE LITTLE :MINISTER 
 
 brightness of his eyes. Unconsciously he had acquired the 
 habit of pressing his teeth together in the pauses of his 
 talk, shutting them on some woe that would proclaim itself, 
 as men do who keep their misery to themselves. 
 
 "A few hours ago," he went on, "I heard Rob's voice in 
 altercation as I passed the Bull tavern, and I had a feeling 
 that if I failed with him so should I fail always throughout 
 my ministry. I walked into the public-house, and stopped at 
 the door of a room in which Dow and the piper were sitting 
 drinking. I heard Rob saying, fiercely, 'If what you say 
 about her is true, Highlandman, she's the woman I've been 
 looking for this half year and mair; what is she like?' 
 I guessed, from what I had been told of the piper, that they 
 were speaking of the earl's bride; but Rob saw me and came 
 to an abrupt stop, saying to his companion, 'Dinna say an- 
 other word about her afore the minister.' Rob would have 
 come away at once, in answer to my appeal, but the piper 
 was drunk, and would not be silenced. 'I'll tell the minister 
 about her, too,' he began. 'You dinna ken what you're doing,' 
 Rob roared, and then, as if to save my ears from scandal 
 at any cost, he struck Campbell a heavy blow on the mouth. 
 I tried to intercept the blow, with the result that I fell, and 
 then some one ran out of the tavern crying, 'He's killed !' 
 The piper had been stunned, but the story went abroad that 
 he had stabbed me for interfering with him. That is really 
 all. Nothing, as you know, can overtake an untruth if it 
 has a minute's start." 
 
 "Where is Campbell now?" 
 
 "Sleeping off the effect of the blow ; but Dow has fled. 
 He was terrified at the shouts of murder, and ran off up the 
 West Town end. The doctor's dog-cart was standing at a 
 door there, and Rob jumped into it and drove off. They 
 did not chase him far, because he is sure to hear the truth 
 soon, and then, doubtless, he will come back." 
 
 Though in a few hours we were to wonder at our dense- 
 ness, neither Gavin nor I saw why Dow had struck the 
 Highlander down rather than let him tell his story in the 
 minister's presence. One moment's suspicion would have 
 lit our way to the whole truth, but of the spring to all Rob's 
 behaviour in the past eight months we were ignorant, and 
 so to Gavin the Bull had only been the scene of a drunken 
 brawl, while I forgot to think in the joy of finding him 
 alive. 
 
 "I have a prayer-meeting for rain presently," Gavin said.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 147 
 
 breaking a picture that had just appeared unpleasantly be- 
 fore me of Babbie still in agony at Nanny's, "but before 
 I leave you, tell me why this rumour caused you such 
 distress." 
 
 The question troubled me, and I tried to avoid it. Cross- 
 ing the hill we had by this time drawn near a hollow called 
 the Toad's-hole, then gay and noisy v/ith a caravan of 
 gypsies. They were those same wild Lindsays, for whom 
 Gavin had searched Caddam one eventful night, and as I saw 
 them crowding round their king, a man well known to me, 
 I guessed what they were at. 
 
 "Mr. Dishart," I said, abruptly, "would you like to see 
 a gypsy marriage? One is taking place there just now. 
 That big fellow is the king, and he is about to marry two of 
 his people over the tongs. The ceremony will not detain 
 us five minutes, though the rejoicings will go on all night." 
 
 I have been present at more than one gypsy wedding in 
 my time, and at the wild, weird orgies that followed them, 
 but what is interesting to such as I may not be for a min- 
 ister's eyes, and, frowning at my proposal, Gavin turned 
 his back upon the Toad's-hole. Then, as we recrossed the 
 hill, to get away from the din of the camp, I pointed out to 
 him that the report of his death had brought McKenzie to 
 Thrums, as well as me. 
 
 "As soon as McKenzie heard I was not dead," he answered, 
 "he galloped off to the Spittal, without even seeing me. I 
 suppose he posted back to be in time for the night's re- 
 joicings there. So you see, it was not solicitude for me 
 that brought him. He came because a servant at the Spittal 
 was supposed to have done the deed." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Dishart," I had to say, "why should I deny 
 that I have a warm regard for you? You have done brave 
 work in our town." 
 
 "It has been little," he replied. "With God's help it will 
 be more in future." 
 
 He meant that he had given time to his sad love affair 
 that he owed to his people. Of seeing Babbie again I saw 
 that he had given up hope. Instead of repining, he was 
 devoting his whole soul to God's work. I was proud of 
 him, and yet I grieved, for I could not think that God wanted 
 him to bury his youth so soon. 
 
 "I had thought," he confessed to me, "that you were one 
 of those who did not like my preaching." 
 
 "You were mistaken," I said, gravely. I dared not tell
 
 148 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 him that, except his mother, none would have sat under 
 him so eagerly as I. 
 
 "Nevertheless," he said, "j'ou were a member of the Auld 
 Licht church in Mr. Carfrae's time, and you left it when 
 I came." 
 
 "I heard your first sermon," I said. 
 
 "Ah," he replied. "I had not been long in Thrums before 
 I discovered that if I took tea with any of my congregation 
 and declined a second cup, they thought it a reflection on 
 their brewing." 
 
 "You must not look upon my absence in that light," was 
 all I could say. "There are reasons why I cannot come." 
 
 He did not press me further, thinking I meant that the 
 distance was too great, though frailer folk than I walked 
 twenty miles to hear him. We might have parted thus had 
 we not wandered by chance to the very spot where I had 
 met him and Babbie. There is a seat there now for those 
 who lose their breath on the climb up, and so I have two rea- 
 sons nowadays for not passing the place by. 
 
 We read each other's thoughts, and Gavin said, calmly, 
 "I have not seen her since that night. She disappeared as 
 into a grave." 
 
 How could I answer when I knew that Babbie was dying 
 for want of him, not half a mile away? 
 
 "You seemed to understand everything that night," he went 
 on; "or if you did not, your thoughts were very generous 
 to me." 
 
 In my sorrow for him I did not notice that we were mov- 
 ing on again, this time in the direction of Windyghoul. 
 
 "She was only a gypsy girl," he said, abruptly, and I 
 nodded. "But I hoped," he continued, "that she would be 
 my wife." 
 
 "I understood that," I said. 
 
 "There was nothing monstrous to you," he asked, looking 
 me in the face, "in a minister's marrying a gypsy?" 
 
 I own that if I had loved a girl, how ever far below or 
 above me in degree, I would have married her had she been 
 willing to take me. But to Gavin I only answered, "These 
 are matters a man must decide for himself." 
 
 "I had decided for myself," he said, emphatically. 
 
 "Yet," I said, wanting him to talk to me of Margaret, 
 "in such a case one might have others to consider besides 
 himself." 
 
 "A man's marriage," he answered, "is his own affair. I
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 149 
 
 v,-ould have brooked no interference from my congrega- 
 tion." 
 
 I thought, "There is some obstinacy left in him still;" 
 but aloud I said, "It was of your mother I was thinking." 
 
 "She would have taken Babbie to her heart," he said, with 
 the fond conviction of a lover. 
 
 I doubted it, but I only asked, "Your mother knows noth- 
 ing of her?" 
 
 "Nothing," he rejoined. "It would be cruelty to tell my 
 mother of her now that she is gone." 
 
 Gavin's calmness had left him, and he was striding quickly 
 nearer to Windyghoul. I was in dread lest he should see 
 the Egyptian at Nanny's door, yet to have turned him in 
 another direction might have roused his suspicions. When 
 we were within a hundred yards of the mud house, I knew 
 that there was no Babbie in sight. We halved the distance, 
 and then I saw her at the open window. Gavin's eyes were 
 on the ground, but she saw him. I held my breath, fearing 
 that she would run out to him. 
 
 "You have never seen her since that night?" Gavin asked 
 me, without hope in his voice. 
 
 Had he been less hopeless, he would have wondered why 
 I did not reply immediately. I was looking covertly at the 
 mud house, of which we were now within a few yards. 
 Babbie's face had gone from the window, and the door 
 remained shut. That she could hear every word we uttered 
 now, I could not doubt. But she was hiding from the man 
 for whom her soul longed. She was sacrificing herself 
 for him. 
 
 "Never," I answered, notwithstanding my pity of the 
 brave girl, and then, while I was shaking lest he should go 
 in to visit Nanny, I heard the echo of the Auld Licht bell. 
 
 "That calls me to the meeting for rain," Gavin said, 
 bidding me good night. I had acted for Margaret, and yet 
 I had hardly the effrontery to take his hand. I suppose he 
 saw sympathy in my face, for suddenly the cry broke from 
 him: 
 
 "If I could only know that nothing evil had befallen her!" 
 
 Babbie heard him and could not restrain a heart-breaking 
 sob. 
 
 "What was that ?" he said, starting. 
 
 A moment I waited, to let her show herself if she chose. 
 But the mud house was silent again. 
 
 "It was some boy in the wood," I answered.
 
 160 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "Good-bye," he said, trying to smile. 
 
 Had I let him go, here would have been the end of his 
 love story, but that piteous smile unmanned me, and I could 
 not keep the words back. 
 
 "She is in Nanny's house," I cried. 
 
 In another moment these two were together for weal 
 or woe, and I had set off dizzily for the schoolhouse, feel- 
 ing now that I had been false to Margaret, and again exult- 
 ing in what I had done. By and by the bell stopped, and 
 Gavin and Babbie regarded it as little as I heeded the burns 
 now crossing the glen road noisily at places that had been 
 dry two hours before. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 STORY OF THE EGYPTIAN. 
 
 God gives us more than, were we not over-bold, we should 
 dare to ask for, and yet how often (perhaps after saying 
 "Thank God" so curtly that it is only a form of swearing) 
 we are suppliants again within the hour. Gavin was to be 
 satisfied if he were told that no evil had befallen her he 
 loved, and all the way between the schoolhouse and Windy- 
 ghoul Babbie craved for no more than Gavin's life. Now 
 they had got their desires ; but do you think they were 
 content ? 
 
 The Egyptian had gone on her knees when she heard 
 Gavin speak of her. It was her way of preventing her- 
 self from running to him. Then, when she thought him 
 gone, he opened the door. She rose and shrank back, but 
 first she had stepped towards him with a glad cry. His 
 disappointed arms met on nothing. 
 
 "You. too, heard that I was dead?" he said, thinking her 
 strangeness but grief too sharply turned to joy. 
 
 There were tears in the word with which she answered 
 him, and he would have kissed her, but she defended her 
 face with her hand. 
 
 "Babbie," he asked, beginning to fear that he had not 
 sounded her deepest woe, "why have you left me all this 
 time? You are not glad to see me now?" 
 
 "I was glad," she answered, in a low voice, "to see you
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 151 
 
 from the window, but I prayed to God not to let you see 
 me." 
 
 She even pulled away her hand when he would have 
 taken it. "No, no, I am to tell you everything now, and 
 then—" 
 
 "Say that you love me first," he broke in, when a sob 
 checked her speaking. 
 
 "No," she said, "I must tell you first what I have done, 
 and then you will not ask me to say that. I am not a 
 gypsy." 
 
 "What of that?" cried Gavin. "It was not because you 
 were a gypsy that I loved you." 
 
 "That is the last time you will say you love me." said 
 fiabbie. "Mr. Dishart, I am to be married to-morrow." 
 
 She stopped, afraid to say more lest he should fall, but 
 except that his arms twitched he did not move. 
 
 "I am to be married to Lord Rintoul," she went on. "Now 
 you know who I am." 
 
 She turned from him, for his piercing eyes frightened 
 her. Never again, she knew, would she see the love-light 
 in them. He plucked himself from the spot where he had 
 stood looking at her and walked to the window. When he 
 wheeled round there was no anger on his face, only a pathetic 
 wonder that he had been deceived so easily. It was at him- 
 self that he was smiling grimly rather than at her, and the 
 change pained Babbie as no words could have hurt her. He 
 sat down on a chair and waited for her to go on. 
 
 "Don't look at me," she said, "and I will tell you every- 
 thing." He dropped his eyes listlessly, and had he not asked 
 her a question from time to time, she would have doubted 
 whether he heard her. 
 
 "After all," she said, "a gypsy dress is my birthright, and 
 so the Thrums people were scarcely wrong in calling me an 
 Egyptian. It is a pity any one insisted on making me some- 
 thing different. I believe I could have been a good gypsy." 
 
 "\Vho were your parents?" Gavin asked, without looking 
 up. 
 
 "You ask that," she said, "because you have a good mother. 
 It is not a question that would occur to me. My mother — ■ 
 If she was bad, may not that be some excuse for me? Ah, 
 but I have no wish to excuse myself. Have you seen a 
 gypsy cart with a sort of hammock swung beneath it in 
 which gypsy children are carried about the country? If 
 there are no children, the pots and pans are stored in it.
 
 152 THE LITTLE MINISTER i 
 
 Unless the roads are rough it makes a comfortable cradle, 
 and it was the only one I ever knew. Well, one day I 
 suppose the road was rough, for I was capsized. I remember 
 picking myself up after a little and running after the cart, 
 but they did not hear my cries. I sat down by the roadside 
 and stared after the cart until I lost sight of it. That was 
 in England, and I was not three years old." 
 
 "But surely," Gavin said, "they came back to look for 
 you ?" 
 
 "So far as I know," Babbie answered, hardly, "they did 
 not come back. I have never seen them since. I think 
 they were drunk. My only recollection of my mother is that 
 she once took me to see the dead body of some gypsy who 
 had been murdered. She told me to dip my hand in the 
 blood, so that I could say I had done so when I became a 
 woman. It was meant as a treat to me, and is the one kind- 
 ness I am sure I got from her. Curiously enough, I felt 
 the shame of her deserting me for many years afterwards. 
 As a child I cried hysterically at thought of it ; it pained 
 me when I was at school in Edinburgh every time I saw the 
 other girls writing home; I cannot think of it without a 
 shudder even now. It is what makes me worse than other 
 women." 
 
 Her voice had altered, and she was speaking passionately. 
 
 "Sometimes," she continued, more gently, "I try to think 
 that my mother did come back for me, and then went away 
 because she heard I was in better hands than hers. It was 
 Lord Rintoul who found me, and I owe everything to him. 
 You will say that he has no need to be proud of me. He 
 took me home on his horse, and paid his gardener's wife 
 to rear me. She was Scotch, and that is why I can speak 
 two languages. It was he, too, who sent me to school in 
 Edinburgh." 
 
 "He has been very kind to you," said Gavin, who would 
 have preferred to dislike the earl. 
 
 "So kind," answered Babbie, "that nov/ he is to marry me. 
 But do you know why he has done all this ?" 
 
 Now again she was agitated, and spoke indignantly. 
 
 "It is all because I have a pretty face," she said, her 
 bosom rising and falling. "Men think of nothing else. He 
 had no pity for the deserted child. I knew that while I was 
 yet on his horse. When he came to the gardener's after- ' 
 wards, it was not to give me some one to love, it was only 
 to look upon what was called my beauty; I was merely a
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 153 
 
 picture to him, and even the gardener's children knew it and 
 sought to terrify me by saying, 'You are losing your looks; 
 the earl will not care for you any more.' Sometimes he 
 brought his friends to see me, 'because I was such a lovely 
 child/ and if they did not agree with him on that point he 
 left without kissing me. Throughout my whole girlhood I 
 was taught nothing but to please him, and the only way to 
 do that was to be pretty. It was the only virtue worth 
 striving for ; the others were never thought of when he asked 
 how I was getting on. Once I had fever and nearly died, 
 yet this knowledge that my face was everything was im- 
 planted in me so that my fear lest he should think me 
 ugly when I recovered terrified me into hysterics. I dream 
 still that I am in that fever, and all my fears return. He 
 did think me ugly when he saw me next. I remember the 
 'incident so well still. I had run to him, and he was lifting 
 me up to kiss me when he saw that my face had changed. 
 'What a cruel disappointment,' he said, and turned his back 
 on me. I had given him a child's love until then, but from 
 that day I was hard and callous." 
 
 "And when was it you became beautiful again?" Gavin 
 asked, by no means in the mind to pay compliments. 
 
 "A year passed," she continued, "before I saw him again- 
 In that time he had not asked for me once, and the gardener 
 had kept me out of charity. It was by an accident that we 
 met, and at first he did not know me. Then he said, 'Why, 
 Babbie, I believe you are to be a beauty, after all !' I hated 
 him for that, and stalked away from him, but he called after 
 me, 'Bravo ! she walks like a queen ;' and it was because I 
 walked like a queen that he sent me to an Edinburgh school. 
 He used to come to see me every year, and as I grew up the 
 girls called me Lady Rintoul. He was not fond of me ; he 
 is not fond of me now. He would as soon think of looking 
 at the back of a picture as at what I am apart from my 
 face, but he dotes on it, and is to marry it. Is that love? 
 Long before I left school, which was shortly before you 
 came to Thrums, he had told his sister that he was deter- 
 mined to marry me, and she hated me for it, making me as 
 uncomfortable as she could, so that I almost looked forward 
 to the marriage because it would be such a humiliation to 
 her." 
 
 In admitting this she looked shamefacedly at Gavin, and 
 then went on : 
 
 "It is humiliating him, too. I understand him. He would
 
 154 THE LITTLE MINISTER i 
 
 like not to want to marry me, for he is ashamed of my 
 ' origin, hut he cannot help it. It is this feeling that has 
 brought him here, so that the marriage may take place where 
 my history is not known." 
 
 "The secret has been well kept," Gavin said, "for they 
 have failed to discover it even in Thrums." 
 
 "Some of the Spittal servants suspect it, nevertheless,** 
 Babbie answered, "though how much they know I cannot 
 say. He has not a servant now, either here or in England, 
 who knew me as a child. The gardener who befriended me 
 was sent away long ago. Lord Rintoul looks upon me as a 
 disgrace to him that he cannot live without." 
 
 "I daresay he cares for you more than you think," Gavin 
 said, gravely. 
 
 "He is infatuated about my face, or the pose of my head, 
 or something of that sort," Babbie said, bitterly, "or he 
 would not have endured me so long. I have twice had the 
 wedding postponed, chiefly, I believe, to enrage my natural 
 enemy, his sister, who is as much aggravated by my re- 
 luctance to marry him as by his desire to marry me. How- 
 ever, I also felt that imprisonment for life was approaching 
 as the day drew near, and I told him that if he did not 
 defer the wedding I should run away. He knows I am ca- 
 pable of it, for twice I ran away from school. If his sister 
 only knew that !" 
 
 For a moment it was the old Babbie Gavin saw; but her 
 glee was short-lived, and she resumed, sedately: 
 
 "They were kind to me at school, but the life was so dull 
 and prim that I ran off in a gypsy dress of my own making. 
 That is what it is to have gypsy blood in one. I was away 
 for a week the first time, wandering the country alone, telling 
 fortunes, dancing and singing in woods, and sleeping in 
 barns. I am the only woman in the world well brought up 
 who is not afraid of mice or rats. That is my gypsy blood 
 again. After that wild week I went back to the school of my 
 own will, and no one knows of the escapade but my school- 
 mistress and Lord Rintoul." 
 
 "And then you came to the Spittal?" 
 
 "Yes ; and Lord Rintoul wanted me to say I was sorry 
 for what I had done, but I told him I need not say that, 
 for I was sure to do it again. As you know, I have done 
 it several times since then; and though I am a different 
 woman since I knew you, I dare say I shall go on doing it 
 at times all my life. You shake your head because you do
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 155 
 
 not understand. It is not that I make up my mind to break 
 out in that way; I may not have had the least desire to 
 do it for weeks, and then suddenly, when I am out riding, or 
 at dinner, or at a dance, the craving- to be a gypsy again is 
 so strong that I never think of resisting it; I would risk 
 my life to gratify it. Yes, whatever my life in the future is 
 to' be, I know that must be a part of it. 1 used to pretend 
 at the Spittal that I had gone to bed, and then escape by 
 the window. I was mad with glee at those times, but I al- 
 ways returned before morning, except once, the last time 
 I saw you, when I was away for nearly twenty- four hours. 
 Lord Rintoul was so glad to see me come back then that 
 he almost forgave me for going away. There is nothing 
 more to tell except that on the night of the riot it was not 
 my gypsy nature that brought me to Thrums, but a desire 
 to save the poor weavers. I had heard Lord Rintoul and the 
 sheriff discussing the contemplated raid. I have hidden noth- 
 ing from you. In time, perhaps, I shall have suffered suffi- 
 ciently for all my wickedness." 
 
 Gavin rose weariedly, and walked through the mud house 
 looking at her. 
 
 "This is the end of it all," he said, harshly, coming to a 
 standstill. "I love you. Babbie." 
 
 "No," she answered, shaking her head. "You never knew 
 me until now, and so it was not me you loved. I know 
 what you thought I was, and I will try to be it now." 
 
 "If you had only told me this before," the minister said, 
 sadly, "it might not have been too late." 
 
 "I only thought you like all the other men I knew," she 
 replied, "until the night I came to the manse. It was only my 
 face you admired at first." 
 
 "No, it was never that," Gavin said with such conviction 
 that her mouth opened in alarm to ask him if he did not 
 think her pretty. She did not speak, however, and he con- 
 tinued, "You must have known that I loved you from the 
 first night." 
 
 "No; you only amused me," she said, like one determined 
 to stint nothing of the truth. "Even at the well I laughed 
 at your vows." 
 
 This wounded Gavin afresh, wretched as her story had 
 made him, and he said, tragically, "You have never cared for 
 me at all." 
 
 "Oh, always, always," she answered, "since I knew what 
 love was ; and it was you who taught me."
 
 156 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 Even in his misery he held his head high with pride. At 
 least she did love him. 
 
 "And then," Babbie said, hiding her face, "I could not tell 
 you what I was because I knew you would loathe me. I 
 could only go away." 
 
 She looked at him forlornly through her tears, and then 
 moved towards the door. He had sunk upon a stool, his 
 face resting on the table, and it was her intention to slip 
 away unnoticed. But he heard the latch rise, and, jumping 
 up. said sharply, "Babbie, I cannot give you up." 
 
 She stood in tears, swinging the door unconsciously with 
 her hand. 
 
 "Don't say that you love me still," she cried ; and then, 
 letting her hand fall from the door, added, imploringly, 
 "Oh, Gavin, do you ?" 
 
 CHAPTER XXVni. 
 
 THE MEETING FOR RAIN. 
 
 Meanwhile the Auld Lichts were in church, waiting for 
 their minister, and it was a full meeting, because nearly 
 every well in Thrums had been scooped dry by anxious 
 palms. Yet not all were there to ask God's rain for them- 
 selves. Old Charles Yuill was in his pew, after dreaming 
 thrice that he would break up with the drought; and Bell 
 Christison had come, though her man lay dead at home, 
 and she thought it could matter no more to her how things 
 went in the world. 
 
 You, who do not love that little congregation, would have 
 said that they were waiting placidly. But probably so simple 
 a woman as Meggy Rattray could have deceived you into be- 
 lieving that because her eyes were downcast she did not 
 notice who put the three-penny-bit in the plate. A few men 
 were unaware that the bell was working overtime, most of 
 them farmers with their eyes on the windows, but all the 
 women at least were wondering. They knew better, however, 
 than to bring their thoughts to their faces, and none sought 
 to catch another's eye. The menfolk looked heavily at their 
 hats in the seats in front. Even when Hendry Munn, in- 
 stead of marching to the pulpit with the big Bible in his 
 hands, came as far as the plate and signed to Peter Tosh.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 157 
 
 elder, that he was wanted in the vestry, you could not have 
 guessed how every woman there except Bell Christison wished 
 she was Peter Tosh. Peter was so taken aback that he 
 merely gaped at Hendry, until suddenly he knew that his 
 five daughters were furious with him, when he dived for 
 his hat and staggered to the vestry with his mouth open. 
 His boots cheeped all the way, but no one looked up. 
 
 In the vestry Hendry Munn was now holding counsel with 
 three elders, of whom the chief was Lang Tammas. 
 
 "The laddie I sent to the manse," Hendry said, "canna 
 be back this five minutes, and the question is how we're 
 to fill up that time. I'll ring no langer, for the bell has 
 been in a passion ever since a quarter past eight. It's as 
 sweer to clang past the quarter as a horse to gallop by its 
 stable." 
 
 "You could gang to your box and gie out a psalm, Tam- 
 mas," suggested John Spens. 
 
 "And would a psalm sung wi' sic an object," retorted the 
 precentor, "mount higher, think you, than a bairn's kite? I'll 
 insult the Almighty to screen no minister." 
 
 "You're screening him better by standing whaur you are," 
 said the imperturbable Hendry; "for as lang as you dinna 
 show your face they'll think it may be you that's missing 
 instead o' Mr. Dishart." 
 
 Indeed, Gavin's appearance in church without the precentor 
 would have been as surprising as Tammas's without the 
 minister. As certainly as the shutting of a money-box is 
 followed by the turning of the key, did the precentor walk 
 stiffly from the vestry to his box a toll of the bell in front 
 of the minister. Tammas's halfpenny rang in the plate as 
 Gavin passed T'nowhead's pew, and Gavin's sixpence with 
 the snapping-to of the precentor's door. The two men 
 might have been connected by a string that tightened at ten 
 yards. 
 
 "The congregation ken me ower weel," Tammas said, "to 
 believe I would keep the Lord waiting." 
 
 "And they are as sure o' Mr. Dishart," rejoined Spens, 
 with spirit, though he feared the precentor on Sabbaths and 
 at prayer-meetings. "You're a hard man." 
 
 "I speak the blunt truth," Whamond answered. 
 
 "Ay," said Spens, "and to tak credit for that may be 
 like blawing that you're ower honest to wear claethes." 
 
 Hendry, who had gone to the door, returned now with 
 the information that Mr. Dishart had left the manse two
 
 158 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 hours ago to pay visits, meaning to come to the prayer-meet- 
 ing before he returned home. 
 
 "There's a quirk in this, Hendry," said Tosh. "Was it 
 Mistress Dishart the laddie saw?" 
 
 "No," Hendry rephed. "It was Jean. She canna get to 
 the meeting because the mistress is nervous in the manse 
 by herself; and Jean didna like to tell her that he's missing, 
 for fear o' alarming her. What are we to do now?'' 
 
 "He's an unfaithful shepherd," cried the precentor, while 
 Hendry again went out. "I see it written on the walls." 
 
 "I dinna," said Spens, doggedly. 
 
 "Because," retorted Tammas, "having eyes you see not." 
 
 "Tammas, I aye thocht you was fond o' Mr. Dishart. 
 
 "H my right eye were to offend me," answered the pre- 
 centor, "I would pluck it out. I suppose you think, and 
 baith o' you farmers, too, that there's no necessity for pray- 
 ing for rain the nicht ? You'll be content, will ye, if Mr. 
 Dishart just drops in to the kirk some day, accidental-like, 
 and ofifers up a bit prayer ?" 
 
 "As for the rain," Spens said, triumphantly, "I wouldna 
 wonder though it's here afore the minister. You canna deny, 
 Peter Tosh, that there's been a smell o' rain in the air this 
 twa hours back." 
 
 "John," Peter said, agitatedly, "dinna speak so confidently. 
 I've kent it," he whispered, "since the day turned; but it 
 wants to tak us by surprise, lad, and so I'm no letting on." 
 
 "See that you dinna make an idol o' the rain," thundered 
 Whamond. "Your thochts is no wi' Him, but wi' the clouds ; 
 and whaur your thochts are, there will your prayers stick 
 also." 
 
 "If you saw my lambs," Tosh began; and then, ashamed of 
 himself, said, looking upward, "He holds the rain in the 
 hollow of His hand." 
 
 "And He's closing His neive ticht on't again," said the 
 precentor, solemnly. "Hearken to the wind rising !" 
 
 "God help me!" cried Tosh, wringing his hands. "Is it 
 fair, think you," he said, passionately addressing the sky, 
 "to show your wrath wi' Mr. Dishart by ruining my 
 neeps?" 
 
 "You were richt, Tammas Whamond," Spens said, grow- 
 ing hard as he listened to the wind, "the sanctuary o' the Lord 
 has been profaned this nicht by him wha should be the chief 
 pillar o' the building." 
 
 They were lowering brows that greeted Hendry when he
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 159 
 
 returned to say that Mr. Dishart had been seen last on the 
 hill with the Glen Quharity dominie. 
 
 "Some thinks," said the kirk officer, "that he's awa hunting 
 for Rob Dow." 
 
 "Nothing'U excuse him," replied Spens, "short o' his having 
 fallen over the quarry " 
 
 Hendry's was usually a blank face, but it must have looked 
 troubled now, for Tosh was about to say, "Hendry, you're 
 keeping something back," when the precentor said it before 
 him. 
 
 "Wi' that story o' Mr. Dishart's murder, no many hours 
 auld yet," the kirk officer replied, evasively, "we should be 
 wary o' trusting gossip." 
 
 "What hae you heard?" 
 
 "It's through the town," Hendry answered, "that a woman 
 was wi' the dominie." 
 
 "A woman !" cried Tosh. "The woman there's been sic 
 talk about in connection wi' the minister? Whaur are they 
 now ?" 
 
 "It's no kent, but — the dominie was seen goin' hame 
 by himsel'." 
 
 "Leaving the minister and her thegither !" cried the three 
 men at once. 
 
 "Hendry Munn,r Tammas said, sternly, "there's mair 
 about this; wha is the woman?" 
 
 "They are liars," Hendry answered, and shut his mouth 
 tight. 
 
 "Gie her a name, I say," the precentor ordered, "or, as 
 chief elder of this kirk, supported by mair than half o' the 
 session, I command you to lift your hat and go." 
 
 Hendry gave an appealing look to Tosh and Spens, but 
 the precentor's solemnity had cowed tliem. 
 
 "They say, then," he answered, sullenly, "that it's the Egyp- 
 tian. Yes, and I believe they ken." 
 
 The two farmers drew back from this statement incredu- 
 lously; but Tammas Whamond jumped at the kirk officer's 
 throat, and some who were in the church that night say 
 they heard Hendry scream. Then the precentor's fingers 
 relaxed their grip, and he tottered into the middle of the 
 room. 
 
 "Hendry," he pleaded, holding out his arms pathetically, 
 "tak back these words. Oh, man, have pity, and tak them 
 back !" 
 
 But Hendry would not, and then Lang Tammas's naouth
 
 160 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 1 
 
 worked convulsively, and he sobbed, crying, "Nobody kent 
 it, but mair than mortal son, O God, I did love the lad!" 
 
 So seldom in a lifetime had any one seen into this man's 
 heart that Spens said, amazed: 
 
 "Tammas, Tammas Whamond, it's no like you to break 
 down." 
 
 The rusty door of Whamond's heart swung to. 
 
 "Who broke down?" he asked, fiercely. "Let no mem- 
 ber of this session dare to break down till his work be 
 done." 
 
 "What work?" Tosh said, uneasily. "We canna inter- 
 fere." 
 
 "I would rather resign," Spens said, but shook when 
 Whamond hurled these words at him : 
 
 " "And Jesus said unto him. No man, having put his 
 hand to the plough and looking back, is fit for the kingdom 
 of God.' " 
 
 "It mayna be true," Hendry said, eagerly. f; 
 
 "We'll soon see." 
 
 "He would gie her up," said Tosh. 
 
 "Peter Tosh," answered Whamond, sternly, "I call upon 
 you to dismiss the congregation." 
 
 "Should we no rather baud the meeting oursel's?" 
 
 "We have other work afore us," replied the precentor. 
 
 "But what can I say?" Tosh asked, nervously. "Should 
 I offer up a prayer?" 
 
 "I warn you all," broke in Hendry, "that though the con- 
 gregation is sitting there quietly, they'll be tigers for the 
 meaning o' this as soon as they're in the street." 
 
 "Let no ontruth be telled them," said the precentor. "Peter 
 Tosh, do your duty. John Spens, remain wi' me." 
 
 The church emptied silently, but a buzz of excitement arose 
 outside. Alany persons tried to enter the vestry, but were 
 ordered away, and when Tosh joined his fellow elders the 
 people were collecting in animated groups in the square, or 
 scattering through the wynds for news. 
 
 "And now," said the precentor, "I call upon the three 
 o' you to come wi' me. Hendry Munn, you gang first." 
 
 "I maun bide ahint," Hendry said, with a sudden fear, 
 "to lock up the kirk." 
 
 "I'll lock up the kirk," Whamond answered, harshly. 
 
 "You maun gie me the keys, though," entreated the kirk 
 officer. 
 
 'T'51 take care o' the keys," said Whamond.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 161 
 
 "I maun hae them," Hendry said, "to open the kirk on 
 Sabbath." 
 
 The precentor locked the doors, and buttoned up the keys 
 in his trousers pockets. 
 
 "Wha kens," he said, in a voice of steel, ''that the kirk'll 
 be open next Sabbath?" 
 
 "Hae some mercy on him, Tammas," Spens implored. 
 "He's no twa-and-twenty." 
 
 "Wha kens," continued the precentor, "but that the next 
 Vime this kirk is opened will be to preach it toom?" 
 
 "What road do we tak?" 
 
 "The road to the hill, whaur he was seen last." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 VARIOUS BODIES CONVERGING ON THE HILL. 
 
 It would be coming on for a quarter past nine, and a 
 misty night, when I reached the schoolhouse, and I was so 
 weary of mind and body that I sat down without taking off 
 my bonnet. I had left the door open, and I remember list- 
 lessly watching the wind making a target of my candle, but 
 never taking a sufficiently big breath to do more than frighten 
 it. From this lethargy I was roused by the sound of wheels. 
 
 In the daytime our glen road leads to many parts, but 
 in the night only to the doctor's. Then the gallop of a 
 horse makes farmers start up in bed and cry, "Who's ill ?" 
 I went to my door and listened to the trap coming swiftly 
 down the lonely glen, but I could not see it, for there was 
 a trailing scarf of mist between the schoolhouse and the road. 
 Presently I heard the swish of the wheels in water, and so 
 learned that they were crossing the ford to come to me. I 
 had been unstrung by the events of the evening, and fear 
 at once pressed thick upon me that this might be a sequel to 
 them, as indeed it was. 
 
 While still out of sight the trap stopped, and I heard 
 some one jump from it. Then came this conversation, as 
 distinct as though it had been spoken into my ear: 
 
 "Can you see the schoolhouse now, McKenzie?" 
 
 "I am groping for it, Rintoul. The mist seems to have 
 made off with the path." 
 
 "Where are you, McKenzie? I have lost sight of vou."
 
 162 THE LITTLE MINISTER 3 
 
 It was but a ribbon of mist, and as these words were 
 spoken McKenzie broke through it. I saw him, though to 
 him I was only a stone at my door. 
 
 "I have found the house, Rintoul," he shouted, "and there 
 is a hght in it, so that the fellow has doubtless returned." 
 
 "Then wait a moment for me." 
 
 "Stay where you are, Rintoul, I entreat you, and leave 
 him to me. He may recognise you." 
 
 "No, no, McKenzie, I am sure he never saw me before. I 
 insist on accompanying you." 
 
 "Your excitement, Rintoul, will betray you. Let me go 
 alone. I can question him without rousing his suspicions. 
 Remember, she is only a gypsy to him." 
 
 "He will learn nothing from me. I am quite calm now." 
 
 "Rintoul, I warn you your manner will betray you, and 
 to-morrow it will be roared through the country-side that 
 your bride ran away from the Spittal in a gypsy dress, and 
 had to be brought back by force." 
 
 The altercation may have lasted another minute, but the 
 suddenness with which I learned Babbie's secret had left my 
 ears incapable of learning more. I daresay the two men 
 started when they found me at my door, but they did not 
 remember, as few do remember who have the noisy day 
 to forget it in, how far the voice carries in the night. 
 
 They came as suddenly on me as I on them, for though 
 they had given unintentional notice of their approach, I had 
 lost sight of the speakers in their amazing words. Only a 
 moment did young McKenzie's anxiety to be spokesman give 
 me to regard Lord Rintoul. I saw that he was a thin man 
 and tall, straight in the figure, but his head began to sink 
 into his shoulders and not very steady on them. His teeth 
 had grip of his underlip, as if this was a method of con- 
 trolling his agitation, and he was opening and shutting his 
 hands restlessly. He had a dog with him which I was to 
 meet again. 
 
 "Well met, Mr. Ogilvy," said ^McKenzie, who knew me 
 slightly, having once acted as judge at a cock-fight in the 
 schoolhouse. "We were afraid we should have to roust 
 you." 
 
 "You will step inside?" I asked, awkwardly, and while I 
 spoke I was wondering how long it would be before the earl's 
 excitement broke out. 
 
 "It is not necessary," McKenzie answered, hurriedly. 
 "My friend and I (this is Mr. McClure) have been caught
 
 THE LITTLE INIINISTER 163 
 
 in the mist without a lamp, and we thought you could per- 
 haps favour us with one." 
 
 "Unfortunately I have nothing of the kind," I said, and 
 the state of mind I was in is shown by my answering 
 seriously. 
 
 "Then we must wish you a good night and manage as best 
 we can," he said ; and then before he could touch, with 
 affected indifference, on the real object of their visit, the 
 alarmed earl said, angrily, "McKenzie, no more of this." 
 
 "No more of this delay, do you mean, McClure?" asked 
 McKenzie, and then, turning to me, said, "By the way, Mr. 
 Ogilvy, I think this is our second meeting to-night. I met 
 you on the road a few hours ago with your wife. Or was it 
 your daughter ?" 
 
 "It was neither, Mr. McKenzie," I answered, with the 
 calmness of one not yet recovered from a shock. "It was a 
 gypsy girl." 
 
 "Where is she now?" cried Rintoul, feverisMy; but Mc- 
 Kenzie, speaking loudly at the same time, tried to drown 
 his interference as one obliterates writing by writing over it. 
 
 "A strange companion for a schoolmaster," he said. 
 "What became of her?" 
 
 "I left her near Caddam Wood," I replied, "but she is 
 probably not there now." 
 
 "Ah, they are strange creatures, these gypsies !" he said, 
 casting a warning look at the earl. "Now I wonder where 
 she had been bound for." 
 
 "There is a gypsy encampment on the hill," I answered, 
 though I cannot say why. 
 
 "She is there !" exclaimed Rintoul, and was done with me. 
 
 "I daresay," AIcKenzie said, indifferently. "However, it 
 is nothing to us. Good night, sir." 
 
 "Good night, Mr. McKenzie," I said. "Good night. Lord 
 Rintoul." 
 
 I had addressed him by his real name. Never a turnip 
 fell from a bumping, laden cart, and the driver more un- 
 conscious of it, than I that I had dropped that word. I re- 
 entered the house, but had not reached my chair when 
 McKenzie's hand fell roughly on me, and I was swung 
 round. 
 
 "Mr. Ogilvy," he said, the more savagely I doubt not be- 
 cause his passions had been chained so long, "you know more 
 than you would have us think. Beware, sir, of recognising 
 that gypsy should you ever see her again in different attiro.
 
 164 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 I advise you to have forgotten this night when you waken 
 to-morrow morning." 
 
 With a menacing gesture he left me, and I sank into a 
 chair, glad to lose sight of the glowering eyes with which 
 he had pinned me to the wall. 
 
 The earl and McKenzie would be some distance still from 
 the hill when the office-bearers had scoured it in vain for their 
 minister. The gypsies, now dancing round their fires to 
 music that, on ordinary occasions, Lang Tammas would 
 have stopped by using his fists to the glory, of God, had 
 seen no minister, they said, and disbelieved in the existence 
 of the mysterious Egyptian. 
 
 "Liars they are to trade," Spens declared to his com- 
 panions, "but now and again they speak truth, like a stand- 
 ing clock, and I'm beginning to think the minister's lassie 
 was invented in the square." 
 
 "Not so," said the precentor, "for we saw her oursel's 
 a short year syne, and Hendry Munn there allows there's 
 townsfolk that hae passed her in the glen mair recently." 
 
 "I only allowed," Hendry said, cautiously, "that some sic 
 talk had shot up sudden-like in the town. Them that pretends 
 they saw her says that she joukt quick out o' sicht." 
 
 "Ay, and there's another quirk in that," responded the 
 suspicious precentor. 
 
 "I'se uphaud the minister's sitting in the manse in his 
 slippers by this time," Hendry said. 
 
 "I'm willing," replied Whamond, "to gang back and speir, 
 or to search Caddam next ; but let the matter drop I winna, 
 though I ken you're a' awid to be hame now." 
 
 "And naturally," retorted Tosh, "for the nicht's coming on 
 as black as pick, and by the time we're at Caddam we'll no 
 even see the trees." 
 
 Towards Caddam, nevertheless, they advanced, hearing 
 nothing but a distant wind and the whish of their legs in the 
 broom. 
 
 "Whaur's John Spens ?" Hendry said, suddenly. 
 
 They turned back and found Spens rooted to the ground, 
 as a boy becomes motionless when he thinks he is within 
 arm's reach of a nest and the bird sitting on the eggs. 
 
 "What do you see, man ?" Hendry whispered. 
 
 "As sure as death," answered Spens, awestruck, "I felt 
 a drap o' rain." 
 
 "It's no rain we're here to look for," said the precentor. 
 
 "Peter Tosh," cried Spens, "it was a drap ! Oh, Peter !
 
 THE LITTLE ]\nNISTER 165 
 
 how are you looking at me so queer, Peter, when you should 
 be thanking the Lord for the promise that's in that drap ?" 
 
 "Come away," Whamond said, impatiently ; but Spens an- 
 swered, "No till I've offered up a prayer for the promise 
 that's in that drap. Peter Tosh, you've forgotten to take off 
 your bonnet." 
 
 "Think twice, John Spens," gasped Tosh, "afore you pray 
 for rain this nicht." 
 
 The others thought him crazy, but he went on, with a 
 catch in his voice : 
 
 "I felt a drap o' rain mysel', just afore it came on dark 
 so hurried, and my first impulse was to wish that I could 
 carry that drao about wi' me and look at it. But, John 
 Spens, when I looked up I saw sic a change running ower 
 the sky that I thocht hell had ta'en the place o' heaven, and 
 that there was waterspouts gathering therein for the drown- 
 ing o' the world." 
 
 "There's no water in hell," the precentor said, grimly. 
 
 "Genesis nine," said Spens, "verses eight to seventeen. 
 Ay, but Peter, you've startled me, and I'm thinking we 
 should be stepping hame. Is that a licht?" 
 
 "It'll be in Nanny Webster's," Hendry said, after they had 
 all regarded the light. 
 
 "I never heard that Nanny needed a candle to licht her 
 to her bed," the precentor muttered. 
 
 "She was awa to meet Sanders the day as he came out 
 o' the Tilliedrum gaol," Spens remembered, "and I daresay 
 the licht means they're hame again." 
 
 "It's well kent — " began Hendry, and would have recalled 
 his words. 
 
 ^Hendry Munn," cried the precentor, "if you hae minded 
 on3i:hing that may help us, out wi't." 
 
 "I was just minding," the kirk officer answered, reluctantly, 
 "that Nanny allows it's IMr. Dishart that has been keeping 
 her frae the poorhouse. You canna censure him for that, 
 Tammas." 
 
 "Can I no?" retorted Whamond. "What business has he 
 to befriend a woman that belongs to another denomination? 
 I'll see to the bottom o' that this nicht. Lads, follow me to 
 Nannj^'s, and dinna be surprised if we find baith the minister 
 and the Egyptian there." 
 
 They had not advanced many yards when Spens jumped 
 to the side, crying, "Be wary, that's no the wind; it's a ma- 
 chine !"
 
 166 THE LITTLE IMINISTER 
 
 Immediately the doctor's dog-cart was close to them, with 
 Rob Dow for its only occupant. He was driving slowly, or 
 Whamond could not have escaped the horse's hoofs. 
 
 "Is that you, Rob Dow?" said the precentor, sourly. "I 
 tell you, you'll be gaoled for stealing the doctor's machine." 
 
 "The Hielandman wasna muckle hurt, Rob," Hendry said, 
 more good-naturedly. 
 
 "I ken that," replied Rob, scowling at the four of them. 
 "What are 3-ou doing here on sic a nicht?" 
 
 "Do you see anything strange in the nicht, Rob?" Tosh 
 asked, apprehensively. 
 
 "It's setting to rain," Dow replied. "I dinna see it, but I 
 feel it.'' 
 
 "Ay," said Tosh, eagerly, "but will it be a saft, cowdie 
 sweet ding-on ?" 
 
 "Let the heavens open if they will," interposed Spens, 
 recklessly. "I would swop the drought for rain, though it 
 comes down in a sheet as in the year twelve." 
 
 "And like a sheet it'll come," replied Dow, "and the 
 deil'U blaw it about wi' his biggest bellowses." 
 
 Tosh shivered, but Whamond shook him roughly, say- 
 ing: 
 
 "Keep your oaths to yoursel', Rob Dow, and tell me, hae 
 you seen Mr, Dishart?" 
 
 "I hinna," Rob answered, curtly, preparing to drive on. 
 
 "Nor the lassie they call the Egj^ptian?" 
 
 Rob leaped from the dog-cart, crying, "What does that 
 mean ?" 
 
 "Hands off," said the precentor, retreating from him. "It 
 means that Mr. Dishart neglected the prayer-meeting this 
 nicht to philander after that heathen woman." 
 
 "We're no sure o't, Tammas," remonstrated the kirk 
 officer. Dow stood quite still. "I believe Rob kens it's true," 
 Hendry added, sadly, "or he would hae flown at your throat, 
 Tammas Whamond, for saying these words." 
 
 Even this did not rouse Dow. 
 
 "Rob doesna worship the minister as he used to do," said 
 Spens. 
 
 "And what for no?" cried the precentor. "Rob Dow, is it 
 because you've found out about this woman ?" 
 
 "You're a pack o' liars," roared Rob, desperately, "and 
 if you say again that ony wandering hussy has baud o' the 
 minister, I'll let you see whether I can loup at throats." 
 
 "You'll swear by the P>ook," asked Whamond, relentlessly. 

 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 167 
 
 "that you've seen neither o' them this nicht, nor them the- 
 gither at any time?" 
 
 '"I so swear by the Book," answered poor, loyal Rob. 
 'But what makes you look for Mr. Dishart here?" he de- 
 manded, with an uneasy look at the light in the mud house. 
 
 "Go hame," replied the precentor, ''and deliver up the ma- 
 chine you stole, and leave this session to do its duty. John, 
 Ave maun fathom the meaning o' that licht." 
 
 Dow started, and was probably at that moment within ati 
 ace of felling Whamond. 
 
 "I'll come wi' you," he said, hunting in his mind for a 
 better way of helping Gavin. 
 
 They were at Nanny's garden, but in the darkness Wha- 
 mond could not find the gate. Rob climbed the paling, and 
 was at once lost sight of. Then they saw his head obscure 
 the window. They did not, however, hear the groan that 
 startled Babbie. 
 
 "There's nobody there," he said, coming back, "but Nanny 
 and Sanders. You'll mind Sanders was to be freed the day." 
 
 "I'll go in and see Sanders," said Hendry, but the pre- 
 centor pulled him back, saying, "You'll do nothing o' the 
 kind, Hendry Munn; you'll come awa' wi' me now to the 
 manse." 
 
 "It's mair than me and Peter'll do, then," said Spens, who 
 had been consulting with the other farmer. "We're gaun 
 as straucht hame as the darkness'U let us." 
 
 With few words the session parted, Spens and Tosh setting 
 off for their farms, and Hendry accompanying the precentor. 
 No one will ever know where Dow went. I can fancy him, 
 however, returning to the wood, and there drawing rein. I 
 can fancy his mind made up to watch the mud house until 
 Giavin and the gypsy separated, and then pounce upon her. 
 I daresay his whole plot could be condensed into a sentence, 
 "If she's got rid o' this nicht, we may cheat the session yet." 
 But this is mere surmise. All I know is that he waited near 
 Nanny's house, and by and by heard another trap coming up 
 Windyghoul. That was just before the ten o'clock bell be- 
 gan to ring.
 
 168 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 LEADING SWIFTLY TO THE APPALLING MARRIAGE. 
 
 The little minister bowed his head in assent when Babbie's 
 cry, '"Oh, Gavin, do you?" leapt in front of her unselfish wish 
 that he should care for her no more. 
 
 "But that matters very little now," he said. 
 
 She was his to do with as he willed ; and, perhaps, the 
 joy of knowing herself loved still begot a wild hope that he 
 would refuse to give her up. If so, these words laid it low, 
 but even the sentence they passed upon her could not kill 
 the self-respect that would be hers henceforth. "That matters 
 very little now," the man said, but to the woman it seemed 
 to matter more than anything else in the world. 
 
 "We must try to make amends now," he said, gravely, 
 "for the wrong we have done." 
 
 "The wrong I have done," she said, correcting him. "You 
 will make it harder for me if you blame yourself. How 
 vile I was in those days !" 
 
 "Those days," she called them, they seemed so far away. 
 
 "Do not cry. Babbie," Gavin replied, gently. "He knew 
 what you were, and why, and He pities you. 'For His 
 anger endureth but a moment: in His favour is life: weep- 
 ing may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morn- 
 ing.' " 
 
 "Not to me." 
 
 "Yes, to you," he answered. "Babbie, you will return to 
 the Spittal now, and tell Lord Rintoul everything." 
 
 "H you wish it." 
 
 "Not because I wish it, but because it is right. He must 
 be told that you do not love him." 
 
 "I never pretended to him that I did," Babbie said, looking 
 up. "Oh/' she added, with emphasis, "he knows that. He 
 thinks me incapable of caring for any one." 
 
 "And that is why he must be told of me," Gavin re- 
 plied. "You are no longer the woman you were. Babbie, 
 and you know it, and x know it, but he does not know it. 
 He shall know it before he decides whether he is to marry 
 you." 
 
 Babbie looked at Gavin, and wondered he did not see that 
 this decision lay with him. 
 
 "Nevertheless," she said, "the wedding will take place to-
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 169 
 
 morrow; if it did not, Lord Rintoul would be the scorn of 
 his friends." 
 
 "If it does," the minister answered, "he will be the scorn 
 of himself. Babbie, there is a chance." 
 
 "There is no chance," she told him. "I shall be back 
 at the Spittal without any one's knowing of my absence, 
 and when I begin to tell him of you. he will tremble, lest 
 it means my refusal to marry him ; when he knows it does 
 not, he will wonder only why I told him anything." 
 
 "He will ask you to take time — " 
 
 "No, he will ask me to put on my wedding dress. You 
 must not think anything else possible." 
 
 "So be it, then," Gavin said, firmly. 
 
 "Yes, it will be better so," Babbie answered, and then, 
 seeing him misunderstand her meaning, exclaimed, reproach- 
 fully, "I was not thinking of myself. In the time to come, 
 whatever be my lot, I shall have the one consolation, that this 
 is best for you. Think of your mottier." 
 
 "She will love you," Gavin said, "when I tell her of you." 
 
 "Yes," said Babbie, wringing her hands; "she will almost 
 love me, but for what? For not marrying you. That is the 
 'Dnly reason any one in Thrums will have for wishing me 
 well." 
 
 "No others," Gavin answered, "will ever know why I re- 
 mained unmarried." 
 
 "Will you never marry?" Babbie asked, exultingly. "Ah!" 
 she cried, ashamed, "but you must." 
 
 "Never." 
 
 Babbie believed his "Never," and, doubtless, thought no 
 worse of him for it; but she saw no way of comforting 
 him save by disparagement of herself. 
 
 "You must think of your congregation," she said. "A 
 minister with a gypsy wife — " 
 
 "Would have knocked them about with a flail," Gavin inter- 
 posed, showing his teeth at the thought of the precentor, 
 "until they did her reverence." 
 
 She shook her head, and told him of her meeting with 
 Micah Dow. It silenced him; not, however, on account of 
 its pathos, as she thought, but because it interpreted the 
 riddle of Rob's behaviour. 
 
 "Nevertheless," he said, ultimately, "my duty is not to 
 do what is right in my people's eyes, but what seems right 
 in my own." 
 
 Babbie had not heard him.
 
 170 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 — ^■■"^^^^^^^^■^— ■— ^— ^^^^^^— — '^— — ^— — ^^*^^'^^^^^^^^^^^^— ^^^^—^^^ 
 
 "I saw a face at the window just now," she whispered, 
 drawing closer to him. 
 
 "There was no face there; the very thought of Rob Dow 
 raises him before you," Gavin answered, reassuringly, though 
 Rob was nearer at that moment than either of them thought. 
 
 "I must go away at once," she said, still with her eyes on 
 the window. "No, no, you shall not come or stay with me; 
 it is you who are in danger." 
 
 "Do not fear for me." 
 
 "I must, if you will not. Before you came in, did I not 
 hear you speak of a meeting you had to attend to-night?" 
 
 "My pray — " His teeth met on the word; so abruptly did 
 it conjure up the forgotten prayer-meeting that before the 
 shock could reach his mind he stood motionless, listening for 
 the bell. For one instant all that had taken place since he 
 last heard it might have happened between two of its tinkles ; 
 Babbie passed from before him like a figure in a panorama 
 and he saw, instead, a congregation in their pews. 
 
 "What do you see?" Babbie cried, in alarm, for he seemed 
 to be gazing at the window. 
 
 "Only you," he replied, himself again ; "I am coming with 
 you." 
 
 "You must let me go alone," she entreated; "if not for 
 your own safety" — but it was only him she considered — ^"then 
 for the sake of Lord Rintoul. Were you and I to be seen 
 together now, his name and mine might suffer." 
 
 It was an argument the minister could not answer save 
 by putting his hands over his face ; his distress made Babbie 
 strong; she moved to the door, trying to smile. 
 
 "Go, Babbie!" Gavin said, controlling his voice, though 
 it had been a smile more pitiful than her tears. "God has 
 you in His keeping; it is not His will to give me this to 
 bear for you." 
 
 They were now in the garden. 
 
 "Do not think of me as unhappy," she said; "it will be 
 happiness to me to try to be all you would have me be." 
 
 He might have kissed her, and perhaps she thought so. 
 
 "I am — I am going now, dear," she said, and came back 
 a step because he did no. answer; then she went on, and was 
 out of his sight at three yards' distance. Neither of them 
 heard the approaching dog-cart. 
 
 "You see, I am bearing it quite cheerfully," she said. "I 
 shall have everything a woman loves; do not grieve for me 
 so much."
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 171 
 
 Gavin dared not speak nor move. Never had he found Hfe 
 so hard; but he was fighting with the ignoble in himself, and 
 winning. She opened the gate, and it might have been a 
 signal to the dog-cart to stop. They both heard a dog bark- 
 ing, and then the voice of Lord Rintoul : 
 
 "That is a light in the window. Jump down, McKenzie, 
 and inquire." , 
 
 Gavin took one step nearer Babbie and stopped. He did 
 not see how all her courage went from her, so that her 
 knees yielded, and she held out her arms to him, but he heard 
 a great sob and then his name. 
 
 "Gavin, I am afraid." 
 
 Gavin understood now, and I say he would have been no 
 man to leave her after that ; only a moment v/as allowed him, 
 and it was their last chance on earth. He took it. His 
 arm went round his beloved, and he drew her away from 
 Nanny's. 
 
 McKenzie found both house and garden empty. "And 
 yet," he said, "I swear some one passed the window as 
 we sighted it." 
 
 "Waste no more time," cried the impatient earl. "We 
 must be very near the hill now. You will have to lead the 
 horse, McKenzie, in this darkness ; the dog may find the 
 way through the broom for us." , 
 
 "The dog has run on," McKenzie replied, now in an evil 
 temper. "Who knows, it may be with her now ? So we must 
 feel our way cautiously; there is no call for capsizing the 
 trap in our haste." But there was call for haste if they were 
 to reach the gypsy encampment before Gavin and Babbie 
 were made man and wife over the tongs. 
 
 The Spittal dog-cart rocked as it dragged its way through 
 the broom. Rob Dow followed. The ten o'clock bell began 
 to ring. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 WHILE THE TEN o'CLOCK BELL WAS RINGING. 
 
 "No, no. Davit, Mr. Dishart hadna felt the blow the piper 
 gave him till he ascended the pulpit to conduct the prayer- 
 meeting for rain, and then he fainted awa. Tammas Wha- 
 mond and Peter Tosh carried him to the session-house. Ay, 
 an awful scene."
 
 172 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 — i^™^^— — ^— — ^^— ^^i^^"^*^— — — — ^^— —■— ^"^»^™'™— ^^"i^"^— »"^ — ^ 
 
 "How did the minister no come to the meeting? I wonder 
 how you could expect it, Snecky, and his mother ta'en so 
 suddenly ill; he's at her bedside, but the doctor has little 
 hope." 
 
 "This is what has occurred, Tailor : Mr. Dishart never got 
 the length of the pulpit. He fell in a swound on the vestry 
 floor. Wh^it caused it? Oh, nothing but the heat. Thrums 
 is so dry that one spark would set it in a blaze." 
 
 "I canna get at the richts o' what keeped him frae the 
 meeting, Femie, but it had something to do wi' an Egyptian 
 on the hill. Very like he had been trying to stop the gypsy 
 marriage there. I gaed to the manse to speir at Jean what 
 was wrang, but I'm thinking I telled her mair than she could 
 tell me." 
 
 "Man, man, Andrew, the wite o't lies wi' Peter Tosh. He 
 thocht we was to hae sic a terrible rain that he implored the 
 minister no to pray for it, and so angry was Mr. Dishart 
 that he ordered the whole session out o' the kirk. I saw 
 them in Couthie's close, and michty dour they looked." 
 
 ''Yes, as sure as death, Tammas Whamond locked the kirk 
 door in Mr. Dishart's face." 
 
 "I'm a' shaking ! And small wonder, Marget, when I've 
 heard this minute that Mr. Dishart's been struck by lichtning 
 while looking for Rob Dow. He's no killed, but, woe's me ! 
 They say he'll never preach again." 
 
 "Nothing o' the kind. It was Rob that the lichtning struck 
 dead in the doctor's niachine. The horse wasna touched ; it 
 came tearing down the Roods wi' the corpse sitting in the 
 machine like a living man." 
 
 "What are you listening to, woman? Is it to a dog bark- 
 ing? I've heard it this while, but it's far awa." 
 
 In the manse kitchen 
 
 "Jean, did you not hear me ring? I want you to — Why 
 
 are you staring out at the window, Jean ?" 
 
 "I — I was just hearkening to the ten o'clock bell, ma'am." 
 "I never saw you doing nothing before ! Put the heater 
 
 in the fire, Jean. I want to iron the minister's neck-cloths. 
 
 The prayer-meeting is long in coming out, is it not ?" 
 "The — the drouth, ma'am, has been so cruel hard." 
 "And, to my shame, I am so comfortable that I almost 
 
 forgot how others are suffering. But my son never forgets, 
 
 Jean. You are not crying, are you?"
 
 THE LITTLE IVIINISTER 173 
 
 "No, ma'am." 
 
 "Bring the iron to the parlour, then. And if the minis — 
 Why did you start, Jean? I only heard a dog barking." 
 
 "I thocht, ma'am — at first I thocht it was Mr. Dishart 
 opening the door. Ay, it's just a dog; some gypsy dog 
 on the hill, I'm thinking, for sound would carry far the 
 nicht." 
 
 ■'Even you, Jean, are nervous at nights, I see, if there 
 is no man in the house. We shall hear no more distant dogs 
 barking, I warrant, when the minister comes hoine." 
 
 "When he comes home, ma'am." 
 
 On the middle of a hill — a man and a woman 
 
 "Courage, beloved; we are nearly there." 
 
 "But, Gavin, I cannot see the encampment." 
 
 "The night is too dark." 
 
 "But the gypsy fires?" 
 
 "They are in the Toad's-hole." 
 
 "Listen to that dog barking." 
 
 "There are several dogs at the encampment. Babbie." 
 
 "There is one behind us. See, there it is!" 
 
 "I have driven it away, dear. You are trembling." 
 
 "What we are doing frightens me, Gavin. It is at your 
 heels again !" 
 
 "It seems to know you." 
 
 "Oh, Gavin, it is Lord Rintoul's collie. Snap. It will 
 bite you." 
 
 "No, I have driven it back again. Probably the earl is 
 following us." 
 
 "Gavin, I cannot go on with this." 
 
 "Quicker, Babbie." 
 
 "Leave me, dear, and save yourself." 
 
 "Lean on me, Babbie." 
 
 "Oh, Gavin, is there no way but this?" 
 
 "No sure way." 
 
 "T.ven though we are married to-night — " 
 
 "We shall be married in five minutes, and then, whatever 
 befall, he cannot have you." 
 
 "But after?" 
 
 "I will take you straight to the manse, to my mother." 
 
 "Were it not for that dog, I should think we were alone 
 on the hill." 
 
 "But we are not. See, there are the gypsy fires."
 
 174. THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 On the zvcst side of the hill — two figures 
 
 "Tammas, Tammas Whamond, I've lost you. Should we 
 gang to the manse down the fields ?" 
 
 "Wheesht, Hendry!" 
 
 "What are you listening for?" 
 
 "I heard a dog barking." 
 
 "Only a gypsy dog, Tammas, barking at the coming storm." 
 
 "The gypsy dogs are all tied up, and this one's atween 
 us and the Toad's-hole. What was that ?" 
 
 "It was nothing but the rubbing of the branches in the 
 cemetery on ane another. It's said, trees mak' that fear- 
 some sound when they're terrified." 
 
 "It was a dog barking at somebody that's stoning it. I 
 ken that sound, Hendry Munn." 
 
 "May I die the death, Tammas Whamond, if a great drap 
 o' rain didna strike me the now, and I swear it was warm. 
 I'm for running hame." 
 
 "I'm for seeing who drove awa that dog. Come back wi' 
 me, Hendry." 
 
 "I winna. There's no a soul on the hill but you and 
 me and thae dafiing and drinking gypsies. How do you no 
 answer me, Tammas? Hie, Tammas Whamond, whaur are 
 you? He's gone! Ay, then I'll mak' tracks hame." 
 
 In the broom — o dog-cart 
 
 "Do )'ou see nothing yet, McKenzie?" 
 
 "Scarce the broom at my knees, Rintoul. There is not a 
 light on the hill." 
 
 "McKenzie, can that schoolmaster have deceived us?" 
 
 "It is probable." 
 
 "Urge on the horse, however. There is a road through 
 the broom, I know. Have we stuck again?" 
 
 "Rintoul, she is not here. I promised to help you to bring 
 her back to the Spittal ])efore this escapade became known, 
 but we have failed to find her. If she is to be saved, it must 
 be by herself. I daresay she has returned already. Let me 
 turn the horse's head. There is a storm brewing." 
 
 "I will search this gypsy encampment first, if it is on the 
 hill. Hark ! that was a dog's bark. Yes, it is Snap ; but he 
 would not bark at nothing. Why do you look behind you so 
 often, McKenzie?"
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 175 
 
 ''For some time, Rintoul, it has seemed to me that we are 
 being followed. Listen !" 
 
 "I hear nothing. At last, McKenzie, at last, we are out of 
 the broom." 
 
 "And as I live, Rintoul, I see the gypsy lights !" 
 
 It might have been a lantern that was flashed across the 
 hill. Then all that part of the world went suddenly on 
 fire. Everything was horribly distinct in that white light. 
 The firs of Caddam were so near that it seemed to have 
 arrested them in a silent march upon the hill. The grass 
 would not hide a pebble. The ground was scored with shad- 
 ows of men and things. Twice the light flickered and re- 
 covered itself. A red serpent shot across it, and then again 
 black night fell. 
 
 The hill had been illumined thus for nearly half a minute. 
 During that time not even a dog stirred. The shadows of 
 human beings lay on the ground as motionless as logs. What 
 had been revealed seemed less a gypsy marriage than a 
 picture. Or was it that during the ceremony every person 
 on the hill had been turned into stone? The gypsy king, with 
 his arm upraised, had not had time to let it fall. The men 
 and women behind him had their mouths open, as if struck 
 when on the point of calling out. Lord Rintoul had risen in 
 the dog-cart and was leaning forward. One of McKenzie's 
 feet was on the shaft. The man crouching in the dog-cart's 
 wake had flung up his hands to protect his face. The pre- 
 centor, his neck outstretched, had a hand on each knee. All 
 eyes were fixed, as in the death glare, on Gavin and Babbie, 
 who stood before the king, their hands clasped over the tongs. 
 Fear was petrified on the woman's face, determination on the 
 man's. 
 
 They were all released by the crack of the thunder, but 
 for another moment none could have swaggered. 
 
 "That was Lord Rintoul in the dog-cart," Babbie whispered, 
 drawing in her breath. 
 
 "Yes, dear," Gavin answered, resolutely, "and now is the 
 time for me to have my first and last talk with him. Remain 
 here. Babbie. Do not move till I come back." 
 
 "But, Gavin, he has seen. I fear him still." 
 
 "He cannot touch you now. Babbie. You are my wife." 
 
 In the vivid light Gavin had thought the dog-cart much 
 nearer than it was. He called Lord Rintoul's name, but got 
 no answer. There were shouts behind, gypsies running from
 
 176 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 the coming rain, dogs whining, but silence in front. The 
 minister moved on some paces. Away to the left he heard 
 voices : 
 
 "Who was the man, IMcKenzie?" 
 
 "My lord, I have lost sight of j^ou. This is not the way 
 to the camp." 
 
 "Tell me, McKenzie, that you did not see what I saw." 
 
 "Rintoul, I beseech you to turn back. We are too late." 
 
 "We are not too late." 
 
 Gavin broke through the darkness between them and him, 
 but they were gone. He called to them, and stopped to listen 
 to their feet. 
 
 "Is that you, Gavin?" Babbie asked just then. 
 
 For reply, the man who had crept up to her clapped his 
 hand upon her mouth. Only the beginning of a scream 
 escaped from her. A strong arm drove her quickly south- 
 ward. 
 
 Gavin heard her cry, and ran back to the encampment. 
 Babbie was gone. None of the gypsies had seen her since 
 the darkness came back. He rushed hither and thither with a 
 torch that only showed his distracted face to others. He 
 flung up his arms in appeal for another moment of light ; then 
 he heard Babbie scream again, and this time it was from a 
 distance. He dashed after her; he heard a trap speeding 
 down the greensward through the broom. 
 
 Lord Rintoul had kidnapped Babbie. Gavin had no other 
 thought as he ran after the dog-cart from which the cry had 
 come. The earl's dog followed him, snapping at his heel.» 
 The rain began. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE GREAT RAIN. 
 
 Gavin passed on through Windyghoul, thinking in his 
 frenzy that he still heard the trap. In a rain that came down 
 like iron rods every other sound was beaten dead. He slipped, 
 and before he could regain his feet the dog bit him. To 
 protect himself from dykes and trees and other horrors of 
 the darkness he held his arm before him, but soon it was 
 driven to his side. Wet whips cut his brow so that he had 
 to protect it with his hands, until it had to bear the lash
 
 THE LITTLE ]\nNISTER 177 
 
 again, for they would not. Now he had forced up his 
 knees, and would have succumbed but for a dread of being 
 pinned to the earth. This fight between the man and the rain 
 went on all night, and long before it ended the man was 
 past the power of thinking. 
 
 In the ringing of the ten o'clock bell Gavin had lived the 
 seventh part of a man's natural life. Only action was re- 
 quired of him. That accomplished, his mind had begun to 
 work again, when suddenly the loss of Babbie stooped it, as 
 we may put out a fire with a great coal. The last thing 
 he had reflected about was a dog-cart in motion, and, con- 
 sequently, this idea clung to him. His church, his mother, 
 were lost knowledge of, but still he seemed to hear the trap 
 in front. 
 
 By and by even the vision of Babbie in the dog-cart was 
 blotted out. If nothing had taken its place, he would not 
 have gone on probably; and had he turned back objectless, 
 his strength would have succumbed to the rain. Now he 
 saw Babbie and Rintoul being married by a minister who was 
 himself, and there was a fair company looking on, and al- 
 ways when he was on the point of shouting to himself, 
 whom he could see clearly, that this woman was already 
 married, the rain obscured his words and the light went out. 
 Presently the ceremony began again, always to stop at the 
 same point. He saw it in the lightning flash that had startled 
 the hill. It gave him courage to fight his way onward, 
 because he thought he must be heard if he could draw nearer 
 to the company. 
 
 A regiment of cavalry began to trouble him. He heard 
 it advancing from the Spittal, but was not dismayed, for 
 it was, as yet, far distant. The horsemen came thundering 
 on, filling the whole glen of Quharity. Now he knew that 
 they had been sent out to ride him down. He paused in 
 dread, until they had swept past him. They came back to 
 look for him, riding more furiously than ever, and always 
 missed him, yet his fears of the next time were not lessened. 
 They were only the rain. 
 
 All through the night the dog followed him. He would 
 forget it for a time, and then it would be so close that he 
 could see it dimly. He never heard it bark, but it snapped at 
 him, and a grin had become the expression of its face. He 
 stoned it, he even flung himself at it, he addressed it in caress- 
 ing tones, and always with the result that it disappeared, to 
 come back presently.
 
 178 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 He found himself walking in a lake, and now even the 
 instinct of self-preservation must have been flickering, for 
 he waded on, rejoicing merely in getting rid of the dog. 
 Something in the water rose, and struck him. Instead of 
 stupefying him, the blow brought him to his senses, and he 
 struggled for his life. The ground slipped beneath his feet 
 many times, but at last he was out of the water. That he 
 was out in a flood he did not realise; yet he now acted like 
 one in full possession of his faculties. When his feet sank 
 in water, he drew back ; and many times he sought shelter 
 behind banks and rocks, first testing their firmness with his 
 hands. Once a torrent of stones, earth, and heather carried 
 him down a hillside, until he struck against a tree. He 
 twined his arms round it, and had just done so when it fell 
 with him. After that, when he touched trees growing in 
 water, he fled from them, thus probably saving himself from 
 death. 
 
 The daylight would not come. He longed passionately for 
 it. He tried to remember what it was like, and could not; 
 he had been blind so long. It was away in front some- 
 where, and he was struggling to overtake it. He expected 
 to see it from a dark place, when he would rush forward 
 to bathe his arms in it, and then the elements that were 
 searching the world for him would see him, and he would 
 perish. But death did not seem too great a penalty to pay for 
 light. 
 
 And at last day did come back, gray and drear. He saw 
 suddenly once more. I think he must have been wandering 
 the glen with his eyes shut, as one does shut them involun- 
 tarily against the hidden dangers of black night. How differ- 
 ent was daylight from what he had expected ! He looked, 
 and then shut his dazed eyes again, for the darkness was less 
 horrible than the day. Had he indeed seen, or only dreamed 
 that he saw? Once more he looked to see what the world 
 was like; and the sight that met his eyes was so mournful 
 that he, who had fought through the long night, now sank 
 hopeless and helpless among the heather. The dog was not 
 far away, and it, too. ^ost heart. Gavin held out his hand, 
 and Snap crept timidly towards him. He unloosened his 
 coat, and the dog nestled against him, cowed and shivering, 
 hiding its head from the day. Thus they lay, and the rain 
 beat upon them.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 179 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE GLEN AT BREAK OF DAY. 
 
 My first intimation that the burns were in flood came from 
 Waster Lunny, close on the strike of ten o'clock. This was 
 some minutes before they had any rain in Thrums. I was 
 in the schoolhouse, now piecing together the puzzle Lord 
 Rintoul had left with me, and anon starting upright as Mc- 
 Kenzie's hand seemed to tighten on my arm. Waster Lunny 
 had been whistling to me (with his fingers in his mouth) for 
 some time before I heard him and hurried out. I was sur- 
 prised and pleased, knowing no better, to be met on the 
 threshold by a whisk of rain. 
 
 The night was not then so dark but that when I reached 
 the Quharity I could see the farmer take shape on the 
 other side of it. He wanted me to exult with him, I thought, 
 in the end of the drouth, and I shouted that I would fling 
 him the stilts. 
 
 "It's yoursel' that wants them," he answered, excitedly, 
 "if you're fleid to be left alone in the schoolhouse the nicht. 
 Do you hear me, dominie? There has been frichtsome rain 
 among the hills, and the Bog burn is coming down like a sea. 
 It has carried awa the miller's brig, and the steading o' 
 Muckle Pirley is standing three feet in water." 
 
 "You're dreaming, man," I roared back, but beside his 
 news he held my doubts of no account. 
 
 "The Retery's in flood," he went on, "and running wild 
 through Hazel Wood; T'nowdunnie's tattie field's out o' 
 sicht, and at the Kirkton they're fleid they've lost twa kye." 
 
 "There has been no rain here," I stammered, incredulously. 
 
 "It's coming now," he replied. "And listen : the story's 
 out that the Backbone has fallen into the loch. You had 
 better cross, dominie, and thole out the nicht wi' us." 
 
 The Backbone was a piece of mountainside overhanging 
 a loch among the hills, and legend said that it would one 
 day fall forward and squirt all the water into the glen. 
 Something of the kind had happened, but I did not believe it 
 then; with little wit I pointed to the shallow Quharity. 
 
 "It may come down at any minute," the farmer answered, 
 "and syne, mind you, you'll be five miles frae Waster Lunny, 
 for there'll be no crossing but by the Brig o' March. If 
 you winna come, I maun awa back. I mauna bide langer on.
 
 180 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 the wrang side o' the Moss ditch, though it has been as dry 
 this month back as a rabbit's roady. But if you — " His 
 voice changed. "God's sake, man," he cried, "you're ower 
 iate. Look at that ! Dinna look — run, run !" 
 
 If I had not run before he bade me, I might never have 
 run again on earth. I had seen a great shadowy yellow 
 river come riding down the Quharity. I sprang from it for 
 my life; and when next I looked behind, it was upon a turbu- 
 lent loch, the further bank lost in darkness. I was about to 
 shout to Waster Lunny, when a monster rose in the torrent 
 between me and the spot where he had stood. It frightened 
 me to silence until it fell, when I knew it was but a tree 
 that had been flung on end by the flood. For a time there 
 was no answer to my cries, and I thought the farmer had 
 been swept away. Then I heard his whistle, and back I ran 
 recklessly through the thickening darkness to the schoolhouse. 
 
 The schoolhouse stands too high to fear any flood, but 
 there were moments when I thought the rain would master it. 
 Not only the windows and the roof were rattling then, but 
 all the walls, and I was like one in a great drum. When the 
 rain was doing its utmost, I heard no other sound; but when 
 the lull came, there was the wash of a heavy river, or a 
 crack as of artillery that told of landslips, or the plaintive cry 
 of the peesweep as it rose in the air, trying to entice the 
 waters away from its nest. 
 
 It was a dreary scene that met my gaze at break of day. 
 Already the Quharity had risen six feet, and in many parts 
 of the glen it was two hundred yards wide. Waster Lunny's 
 corn field looked like a bog grown over with rushes, and 
 what had been his turnips had become a lake with small 
 islands in it. No dyke stood whole except one that the 
 farmer, unaided, had built in a straight line from the road 
 to the top of Mount Bare, and my own, the further end of 
 which dipped in water. Of the plot of firs planted fifty 
 years earlier to help on Waster Lunny's crops, only a tri- 
 angle had withstood the night. 
 
 Even with the aid ol my field-glass I could not estimate 
 the damage on more distant farms, for the rain, though now 
 thin and soft, as it continued for six days, was still heavy 
 and of a brown colour. After breakfast, — which was inter- 
 rupted by my bantam cock's twice spilling my milk, — I saw 
 Waster Lunny and his son, Matthew, running towards the 
 shepherd's house with ropes in their hands. The house, I 
 thought, must be in the mist beyond and then I sickened
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 181 
 
 knowing all at once that it should be on this side of the 
 mist. When I had nerve to look again, I saw, that though 
 the roof had fallen in, the shepherd was astride one of the 
 walls, from which he was dragged presently through the 
 water by the help of the ropes. I remember noticing that 
 he returned to his house with the rope still about him, and 
 concluded that he had gone back to save some of his furni- 
 ture. I was wrong, hov/ever. There was too much to be done 
 at the farm to allow this, but Waster Lunny had consented 
 to Duncan's forcing his way back to the shieling to stop 
 the clock. To both men it seemed horrible to let a clock go 
 on ticking in a deserted house. 
 
 Having seen this rescue accomplished, I was letting my 
 glass roam in the opposite direction, when one of its shakes 
 brought into view something on my own side of the river. I 
 looked at it long, and saw it move slightly. Was it a human 
 being? No, it was a dog. No, it was a dog and something 
 else. I hurried out to see more clearly, and after a first glance 
 the glass shook so in my hands that I had to rest it on the 
 dyke. For a full minute, I daresay, did I look through the 
 glass without blinking, and then I needed to look no more. 
 That black patch was, indeed, Gavin. 
 
 He lay quite near the schoolhouse, but I had to make a 
 circuit of half a mile to reach him. It was pitiful to see the 
 dog doing its best to come to me, and falling every few steps. 
 The poor brute was discoloured almost beyond recognition; 
 and when at last it reached me, it lay down at my feet and 
 licked them. I stepped over it and ran on recklessly to Gavin. 
 At first I thought he was dead. If tears rolled down my 
 cheeks, they were not for him. 
 
 I was no strong man, even in those days, but I carried 
 him to the schoolhouse, the dog crawling after us. Gavin 
 I put upon my bed, and I lay down beside him, holding him 
 close to me, that some of the heat of my body might be taken 
 in by his. When he was able to look at me, however, it was 
 not with understanding, and in vain did my anxiety press him 
 with questions. Only now and again would some word in my 
 speech strike upon his brain and produce at least an echo. 
 To "Did you meet Lord Rintoul's dog-cart?" he sat up, say- 
 ing, quickly: 
 
 "Listen, the dog-cart !" 
 
 "Egyptian" was not that forenoon among the words he 
 knew, and I did not think of mentioning "hill." At "rain" 
 be shivered; but "Soittal" was what told me most.
 
 182 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "He has taken her back," he replied, at once, from which 
 I learned that Gavin now knew as much of Babbie as I did. 
 
 I made him as comfortable as possible, and, despairing of 
 learning anything from him in his present state, I let him 
 sleep. Then I went out into the rain, very anxious, and 
 dreading what he might have to tell me when he woke. I 
 waded and jumped my way as near to the farm as I dared 
 go, and Waster Lunny, seeing me, came to the water's edge. 
 At this part the breadth of the flood was not forty yards, yet 
 for a time our voices could no more cross its roar than one 
 may send a snowball through a stone wall. I know not 
 whether the river then quieted for a space, or if it was only 
 that the ears grow used to dins as the eyes distinguish the 
 objects in a room that is at first black to them; but after 
 a little we were able to shout our remarks across, much as 
 boys fling pebbles, many to fall into the water, but one oc- 
 casionally to reach the other side. Waster Lunny would have 
 talked of the flood, but I had not come here for that. 
 
 "How were you home so early from the prayer-meeting last 
 night?" I bawled. 
 
 "No meeting ... I came straucht hame . . . but terribl«» 
 stories . . . Mr. Dishart," was all I caught after Waster 
 Lunny had flung his words across a dozen times. 
 
 I could not decide whether it would be wise to tell him 
 that Gavin was in the schoolhouse, and while I hesitated, he 
 continued to shout : 
 
 "Some woman . . . the session . . . Lang Tammas . . . 
 God forbid . . . maun back to the farm . . , byre running 
 like a mill-dam." 
 
 He signed to me that he must be off, but my signals de- 
 layed him, and after much trouble he got my question, "Any 
 news about Lord Rintoul?" My curiosity about the earl 
 must have surprised him, but he answered: 
 
 "Marriage is to be the day . . . cannon." 
 
 I signed that I did not grasp his meaning. 
 
 "A cannon is to be fired as soon as they're man and wife," 
 he bellowed. "We'll hear it." 
 
 With that we parted. On my way home, I remember, I 
 stepped on a brood of drowned partridge. I was only out 
 half an hour, but I had to wring my clothes as if they were 
 fresh from the tub. 
 
 The day wore on, and I did not disturb the sleeper. A 
 dozen times, I suppose, I had to relight my fire of wet peat 
 and roots ; but I had plenty of time to stare out at the window,
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 183 
 
 plenty of time to thiiik. Probably Gavin's life depended on 
 his sleeping, but that was not what kept my hands off him. 
 Knowing so little of what had happened in Thrums since I 
 left it, I was forced to guess, and my conclusion was that the 
 earl had gone off with his own, and that Gavin in a frenzy 
 had followed them. My wisest course, I thought, was to let 
 him sleep until I heard the cannon, when his struggle for a 
 wife must end. Fifty times at least did I stand regarding 
 him as he slept; and if I did not pity his plight sufficiently, 
 you know the reason. What were Margaret's sufferings at 
 this moment? Was she wringing her hands for her son lost 
 in the flood, her son in disgrace with the congregation? By 
 one o'clock no cannon had sounded, and my suspense had 
 become intolerable. I shook Gavin awake, and even as I 
 shook him demanded a knowledge of all that had happened 
 since we parted at Nanny's gate. 
 
 "How long ago is that?" he asked, with bewilderment. 
 
 "It was last night," I answered. "This morning I found 
 you senseless on the hillside, and brought you here, to the 
 Glen Quharity schoolhouse. That dog was with 3'ou." 
 
 He looked at the dog, but I kept my eyes on him, and I 
 saw intelligence creep back, like a blush, into his face. 
 
 "Now I remember," he said, shuddering. "You have 
 proved yourself my friend, sir, twice in the four and twenty 
 hours." 
 
 "Only once, I fear,". I replied, gloomily. "I was no friend 
 when I sent you to the earl's bride last night." 
 
 "You know who she is?" he cried, clutching me, and find- 
 ing it agony to move his limbs. 
 
 "I know now," I said, and had to tell him how I knew 
 before he would answer another question. Then I became 
 listener, and you who read know to what alarming story. 
 
 "And all that time," I cried, reproachfully, when he had 
 done, "you gave your mother not a thought." 
 
 "Not a thought," he answered; and I saw that he pro- 
 nounced a harsher sentence on himself than could have come 
 from me. "All that time !" he repeated, after a moment. 
 "It was only a few minutes, while the ten o'clock bell was 
 ringing." 
 
 "Only a few minutes," I said, "but they changed the 
 channel of the Quharity, and perhaps they have done not less 
 to you." 
 
 "That may be," he answered, gravely, "but it is of the 
 present I must think just now. Mr. Ogilvy, what assurance
 
 184 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 have I, while lying here helpless, that the marriage at the 
 Spittal is not going on?" 
 
 ''None, I hope," I said to myself, and listened longingly 
 for the cannon. But to him I only pointed out that no 
 woman need go through a form of marriage against her will. 
 
 "Rintoul carried her off with no possible purport," he 
 said, "but to set my marriage at defiance, and she has had a 
 conviction always that to marry me would be to ruin me. It 
 was only in the shiver Lord Rintoul's voice in the darkness 
 sent through her that she yielded to my wishes. If she 
 thought that marriage last night could be annulled by another 
 to-day, she would consent to the second, I believe, to save 
 me from the effects of the first. You are incredulous, sir; 
 but you do not know of what sacrifices love is capable." 
 
 Something of that I knew, but I did not tell him. I had 
 seen from his manner rather than his words that he doubted 
 the validity of the gypsy marriage, which the king had only 
 consented to celebrate because Babbie was herself an Egyp- 
 tian. The ceremony had been interrupted in the middle. 
 
 "It was no marriage," I said, with a confidence I was far 
 from feeling. 
 
 "In the sight of God," he replied, excitedly, "we took each 
 other for man and wife." 
 
 I had to hold him down in bed. 
 
 "You are too weak to stand, man," I said, "and yet you 
 think you could start off this minute for the Spittal." 
 
 "I must go," he cried. "She is my wife. That impious 
 marriage may have taken place already." 
 
 "Oh, that it had!" was my prayer. "It has not," I said 
 to him. "A cannon is to be fired immediately after the cere- 
 mony, and all the glen will hear it." 
 
 I spoke on the impulse, thinking to allay his desire to 
 be off; but he said, "Then I may yet be in time." Somewhat 
 cruelly I let him rise, that he might realise his weakness. 
 Every bone in him cried out at his first step, and he sank 
 into a chair. 
 
 "You will go to the Spittal for me?" he implored. 
 
 "I will not," I told him. "You are asking me to fling 
 away my life." 
 
 To prove my words I opened the door, and he saw what 
 the flood was doing. Nevertheless, he rose and tottered sev- 
 eral times across the room, trying to revive his strength. 
 Though every bit of him was aching, I saw that he would 
 make the attempt.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 185 
 
 "Listen to me," I said. "Lord Rintoul can maintain with 
 some reason that it was you rather than he who abducted 
 Babbie. Nevertheless, there will not, I am convinced, be 
 any marriage at the Spittal to-day. When he carried her off 
 from the Toad's-hole, he acted under impulses not dissimilar 
 to those that took you to it. Then, I doubt not, he thought 
 possession was all the law, but that scene on the hill has stag- 
 gered him by this morning. Even though she thinks to save 
 you by marrying him, he will defer his wedding until he 
 learns the import of yours." 
 
 I did not believe in my own reasoning, but I would have 
 said anything to detain him until that cannon was fired. He 
 seemed to read my purpose, for he pushed my arguments 
 from him with his hands, and continued to walk painfully 
 to and fro. 
 
 "To defer the wedding," he said, "would be to tell all his 
 friends of her gypsy origin, and of me. He will risk much 
 to avoid that." 
 
 "In any case," I answered, "you must now give some 
 thought to those you have forgotten, your mother and your 
 church." 
 
 "THat must come afterwards," he said, firmly. "My first 
 duty IS to my wife." 
 
 The door swung to sharply, just then, and he started. He 
 thought it was the cannon. 
 
 "I wish to God it had been !" I cried, interpreting his 
 thoughts. 
 
 "Why do you wish me ill?" he asked. 
 
 "Mr. Dishart," I said, solemnly, rising and facing him, 
 and disregarding his question, "if that woman is to be your 
 wife, it will be at a cost you cannot estimate till you return 
 to Thrums. Do you think that if your congregation knew 
 of this gypsy marriage they would have you for their min- 
 ister for another day? Do you enjoy the prospect of taking 
 one who might be an earl's wife into poverty — ay, and dis- 
 graceful poverty? Do you know your mother so little as 
 to think she could survive your shame? Let me warn you, 
 sir, of what I see. I see another minister in the Auld Licht 
 kirk, I see you and your wife stoned through our wynds, 
 stoned from Thrums, as malefactors have been chased out 
 of it ere now; and as certainly as I see these things I see a 
 hearse standing at the manse door, and stern men denying 
 a son's right to help to carry his mother's coffin to it. Go 
 vour way, sir; but first count the cost."
 
 186 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 His face quivered before these blows, but all he said was, 
 "I must dree my dreed." 
 
 "God is merciful," I went on, "and these things need not 
 be. He is more merciful to you, sir, than to some, for the 
 storm that He sent to save you is ruining them. And yet 
 the farmers are to-day thanking Him for every pound of 
 wool, every blade of corn He has left them, while you turn 
 from Him because He would save you, not in your way, but 
 in His. It was His hand that stayed your marriage. He 
 meant Babbie for the earl; and if it is on her part a loveless 
 match, she only suffers for her own sins. Of that scene on 
 the hill no one in Thrums, or in the glen, need ever know. 
 Rintoul will see to it that the gypsies vanish from these parts 
 for ever, and you may be sure the Spittal will soon be shut 
 up. He and McKenzie have as much reason as yourself to 
 be silent. You, sir, must go back to your congregation, who 
 have heard as yet only vague rumours that your presence will 
 dispel. Even your mother will remain ignorant of what has 
 happened. Your absence from the prayer-meeting you can 
 leave to me to explain." 
 
 He was so silent that I thought him mine, but his first 
 words undeceived me. 
 
 "I thought I had nowhere so keen a friend," he said; "but, 
 Mr. Ogilvy, it is devil's work you are pleading. Am I to 
 return to my people to act a living lie before them to 
 the end of my days ? Do you really think that God 
 devastated a glen to give me a chance of becoming a villain? 
 No, sir, I am in His hands, and I will do what I think 
 right." 
 
 "You will be dishonoured," I said, "in the sight of God 
 and man." 
 
 "Not in God's sight," he replied. "It was a sinless mar- 
 riage, Mr. Ogilvy, and I do not regret it. God ordained that 
 she and I should love each other, and He put it into my power 
 to save her from that man. I took her as my wife before 
 Him, and in His eyes I am her husband. Knowing that, sir, 
 how could I return to Thrums without her?" 
 
 I had no answer ready for him. I knew that in my grief 
 for Margaret I had been advocating an unworthy course, but 
 I would not say so. I went gloomily to the door, and there, 
 presently, his hand fell on my shoulder, 
 
 "Your advice came too late, at any rate," he said. "You 
 forget that the precentor was on the hill and saw every- 
 thing."
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 187 
 
 It was he who had forgotten to tell ine this, and to me 
 it was the most direful news of all. 
 
 "My God !" I cried. "He will have gone to your mother 
 and told her." And straightway I began to lace my boots. 
 
 "Where are you going?" he asked, staring at me. 
 
 "To Thrums," I answered, harshly. 
 
 "You said that to venture out into the glen was to court 
 death," he reminded me. 
 
 "What of that?" I said, and hastily put on my coat. 
 
 "Mr. Ogilvy," he cried, "I will not allow you to do this 
 for me." 
 
 "For you?" I said, bitterly. "It is not for you." 
 
 I would have gone at once, but he got in front of me, 
 E.sking, "Did you ever know my mother?" 
 
 "Long ago," I answered, shortly, and he said no more, 
 thinking, I suppose, that he knew all. He limped to the door 
 with me, and I had only advanced a few steps when I under- 
 stood better than before what were the dangers I was to 
 venture into. Since I spoke to Waster Lunny the river had 
 risen several feet, and even the hillocks in his turnip field 
 were now submerged. The mist was creeping down the hills. 
 But what warned me most sharply that the flood was not 
 satisfied yet was the top of the schoolhouse dyke ; it was 
 lined with field-mice. I turned back, and Gavin, mistaking 
 my meaning, said I did wisely. 
 
 "I have not changed my mind," I told him, and then had 
 some difficulty in continuing. "I expect," I said, "to reach 
 Thrums safely, even though I should be caught in the mist, 
 but I shall have to go round by the Kelpie brig in order to 
 get across the river, and it is possible that — that something 
 may befall me." 
 
 I have all my life been something of a coward, and my 
 voice shook when I said this, so that Gavin again entreated 
 me to remain at the schoolhouse, saying that if I did not he 
 would accompany me. 
 
 "And so increase my danger tenfold?" I pointed out. "No, 
 no, Mr. Dishart, I go alone; and if I can do nothing with 
 the congregation, I can at least send your mother word that 
 you still live. But if anything should happen to me, I want 
 you—" 
 
 But I could not say what I had come back to say. I had 
 meant to ask him, in the event of my death, to take a hun- 
 dred pounds which were the savings of my life; but now 
 I saw that this might lead to Margaret's hearing of me, and
 
 188 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 so I stayed my words. It was bitter to me this, and yet, 
 after all, a little thing when put beside the rest. 
 
 "Good-bye, Mr. Dishart," I said, abruptly. I then looked 
 at my desk, which contained some trifles that were once Mar- 
 f^aret's. "Should anything happen to me," I said, "I want 
 that old desk to be destroyed unopened." 
 
 "Mr. Ogilvy," he answered, gently, "you are venturing this 
 because you loved my mother. If anything does befall you, 
 be assured that I will tell her what you attempted for her 
 sake." 
 
 I believe he thought it was to make some such request 
 that I had turned back. 
 
 "You must tell her nothing about me," I exclaimed, in 
 consternation. "Swear that my name will never cross your 
 lips before her. No, that is not enough. You must forget 
 me utterly whether I live or die, lest sometime you should 
 think of me and she should read your thoughts. Swear, 
 man !" 
 
 "Must this be?" he said, gazing at me. 
 
 "Yes," I answered, more calmly, "it must be. For nearli 
 a score of years I have been blotted out of your mother's 
 life, and since she came to Thrums my one care has been 
 to keep my existence from her. I have changed my burying- 
 ground even from Thrums to the glen lest I should die before 
 her, and she, seeing the hearse go by the Tenements, might 
 ask. 'Whose funeral is this?'" 
 
 In my anxiety to warn him, I had said too much. His 
 face grew haggard, and there was fear to speak on it; and 
 I saw, I knew, that some damnable suspicion of Margaret — 
 
 "She was my wife!" I cried, sharply. "We were mar- 
 ried by the minister of Harvie. You are my son." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 STORY r? THE DOMINIE. 
 
 When I spoke next, I was back in the schoolhouse, sitting 
 there with my bonnet on my head, Gavin looking at me. We 
 had forgotten the cannon at last. 
 
 In that chair I had anticipated this scene more than once 
 of late. I had seen that a time might come when Gavin 
 would have to be told all, and I had even said the words
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 189 
 
 aloud, as if he were indeed opposite me. So now I was only 
 repeating the tale, and I could tell it without emotion, because 
 it was nigh nineteen years old; and I did not look at Gavin, 
 for I knew that his manner of taking it could bring no change 
 to me. 
 
 "Did you never ask your mother," I said, addressing the 
 fire rather than him, "why you were called Gavin?" 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "it was because she thought Gavin 
 a prettier name than Adam." 
 
 "No," I said, slowly, "it was because Gavin is my name. 
 You were called after your father. Do you not remember 
 my taking you one day to the shore at Harvie to see the 
 fishermen carried to their boats upon their wives" backs, that 
 they might start dry on their journey?" 
 
 "No," he had to reply. "I remember the women carrying 
 the men through the water to the boats, but I thought it 
 was my father who — I mean — ■" 
 
 "I know whom you mean," I said. "That was our last 
 day together, but you were not three years old. Yet you 
 remembered me when you came to Thrums. You shake your 
 head, but it is true. Between the diets of worship that 
 first Sabbath I was introduced to you, and you must have 
 had some shadowy recollection of my face, for you asked, 
 'Surely I saw you in church in the forenoon, Mr. Ogilvy?' 
 I said, 'Yes,' but I had not been in the church in the fore- 
 noon. You have forgotten even that, and yet I treasured it." 
 
 I could hear that he was growing impatient, though so 
 far he had been more indulgent than I had any right to 
 expect. 
 
 "It can all be put into a sentence," I said, calmly. "Mar- 
 garet married Adam Dishart, and afterwards, believing her- 
 self a widow, she married me. You were born, and then 
 Adam Dishart came back." 
 
 That is my whole story, and here was I telling it to my 
 son, and not a tear between us. It ended abruptly, and I fell 
 to mending the fire. 
 
 "When I knew your mother first," I went on, after Gavin 
 had said some boyish things that were of no avail to me, 
 "I did not think to end my days as a dominie. I was a stu- 
 dent at Aberdeen, with the ministry in my eye, and sometimes 
 on Saturdays I walked forty miles to Harvie to go to church 
 with her. She had another lover, Adam Dishart, a sailor 
 turned fisherman; and while I lingered at corners, wondering 
 if I could dare to meet her and her mother on their way
 
 190 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 to church, he would walk past with them. He was accom- 
 panied always by a lanky black dog, which he had brought 
 from a foreign country. He never signed for any ship with- 
 out first getting permission to take it with him, and in Harvie 
 they said it did not know the language of the native dogs. 
 I have never known a man and dog so attached to each 
 other." 
 
 "I remember that black dog," Gavin said. "I have spoken 
 of it to my mother, and she shuddered, as if it had once 
 bitten her." 
 
 "While Adam strutted by with them," I continued, "I would 
 hang back, raging at his assurance or my own timidity; but 
 I lost my next chance in the same way. In Margaret's 
 presence something came over me, a kind of dryness in the 
 throat that made me dumb. I have known divinity students 
 stricken in the same way, just as they were giving out their 
 first text. It is no aid in getting a kirk or wooing a woman. 
 
 "If any one in Harvie recalls me now, it is as a hobblede- 
 hoy who strode along the cliffs, shouting Homer at the sea- 
 mews. With all my learning, I, who gave Margaret the 
 name of Lalage, understood women less than any fisherman 
 who bandied words with them across a boat. I remember a 
 Yule night when both Adam and I were at her mother's cot- 
 tage, and as we were leaving, he had the audacity to kiss 
 Margaret. She ran out of the room, and Adam swaggered 
 off, and, when I recovered from my horror, I apologised for 
 what he had done. I shall never forget how her mother 
 looked at me, and said, 'Ay, Gavin, I see they dinna teach 
 everything at Aberdeen.' You will not believe it, but I 
 walked away doubting her meaning. I thought more of 
 scholarship then than I do now. Adam Dishart taught me 
 its proper place. 
 
 "Well, tliat is the dull man I was ; and yet, though Adam 
 was always saying and doing the things I was making up 
 my mind to say and do, I think Margaret cared more for 
 me. Nevertheless, there ,/as something about him that all 
 women seemed to find lovable, a dash that made them send 
 him away, and then well-nigh run after him. At any rate, 
 I could have got her after her mother's death if I had been 
 half a man. But I went back to Aberdeen to write a poem 
 about her, and while I was at it Adam married her." 
 
 I opened my desk, and took from it a yellow manuscript. 
 
 "Here," I said, "is the poem. You see, I never finished it." 
 
 I was fineerine the thirur errimly when Gavin's eve fell
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 191 
 
 on something else in tlie desk. It was an ungainly clasp- 
 knife, as rusty as if it had spent a winter beneath a hedge. 
 
 "I seem to remember that knife," he said. 
 
 "Yes," I answered, "you should remember it. Well, after 
 three months Adam tired of his wife." 
 
 I stopped again. This was a story in which only the 
 pauses were eloquent. 
 
 "Perhaps I have no right to say he tired of her. One 
 day, however, he sauntered away from Harvie whistling, his 
 dog at his heels as ever, and was not seen again for nearly 
 six years. When I heard of his disappearance I packed my 
 books in that kist, and went to Harvie, where I opened a 
 school. You see, every one but Margaret believed that Adam 
 had fallen over the cliffs and been drowned." 
 
 "But the dog?" said Gavin. 
 
 "We were all sure that, if he had fallen over, it had 
 jumped after him. The fisher-folk said that he could have 
 left his shadow behind as easily as it. Yet Margaret thought 
 for long that he had tired of Harvie merely and gone back 
 to sea, and not until two years had passed would she marry 
 me. We lived in Adam's house. It was so near the little 
 school that when I opened the window in summer-time she 
 could hear the drone of our voices. During the weeks before 
 you were born I kept that window open all day long, and 
 often I went to it and waved my hand to her. 
 
 "Sometimes, when she was washing or baking, I brought 
 you to the school. The only quarrel she and I ever had was 
 about my teaching you the Lord's Prayer in Greek as soon 
 as you could say father and mother. It was to be a surprise 
 for her on your second birthday. On that day. while she was 
 ironing, you took hold of her gown to steady yourself, and 
 began, 'hdrep i)tiii^v 6 'a> Tols ovpavoh,' and to me, behind the 
 door, it was music. But at ayia<7drjTu, of which you made 
 two syllables, you cried, and Margaret snotchcd you up, think- 
 ing this was some new ailment. After I had explained to 
 her that it was the Lord's Prayer in Greek, she would let me 
 take you to the schoolhouse no more. 
 
 "Not much longer could I have taken you in any case, for 
 already we are at the day when Adam Dishart came back. 
 It was the seventh of September, and all the week most of 
 the women in Harvie had been setting off at dawn to the 
 harvest fields and straggling home at nights, merry and with 
 yellow corn in their hair. I had sat on in the schSolhouse 
 that day after my pupils were gone. J. still meant to be a
 
 192 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 minister, and I was studying Hebrew, and so absorbed in 
 my book that, as tlie daylight went, I followed it step by step 
 as' far as my window, and there I read, without knowing, 
 until I chanced to look up, that I had left my desk. I have 
 not opened that book since. 
 
 "From the window I saw you on the waste ground that 
 separated the school from our home. You were coming to 
 mc on your hands and feet, and stopping now and again to 
 look back at your mother, who was at the door, laughing and 
 shaking her list at you. I beckoned to you, and took the book 
 back to my desk to lock it up. While my head was inside the 
 desk I heard the schoolhouse door pushed open, and think- 
 ing it was you I smiled, without looking up. Then something 
 touched my hand, and I still thought it was you ; but I looked 
 down, and I saw Adam Dishart's black dog. 
 
 "I did not move. It looked up at me and wagged its tail. 
 Then it drew back, — I suppose because I had no words for 
 it. I watched it run half round the room and stop and look 
 at me again. Then it slunk out. 
 
 "All that time one of my hands had been holding the desk 
 open. Now the lid fell. I put on my bonnet and went to 
 the door. You were only a few yards away, with flowers 
 in your fist. Margaret was laughing still. I walked round 
 the school and there was no dog visible. Margaret nodded 
 to me, meaning that I should bring you home. You thrust 
 the flowers into my hand, but they fell. I stood there, dazed. 
 
 "I think I walked with you some way across the waste 
 ground. Then I dropped your hand and strode back to the 
 school. I went down on my knees, looking for marks of a 
 dog's paws, and I found them. 
 
 "When I came out again your mother was no longer at our 
 door, and you were crying because I had left you. I passed 
 you and walked straight to the house. Margaret was skin- 
 ning rushes for wicks. There must have been fear in my 
 face, for as soon as she saw it she ran to the door to see if 
 you were still alive. She brought you in with her, and so 
 had strength to cry, 'What is it? Speak!' 
 
 " 'Come away,' I said, 'come away,' and I was drawing her 
 to the door, but she pressed me into a chair. I was up again 
 at once. 
 
 " 'Margaret,' I said, 'ask no questions. Put on your bonnet, 
 give me the boy, and let us away.' 
 
 "I could not take my eyes off the door, and she was walking 
 to it to look out when I barred the way with my arm.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 193 
 
 ^^■^^^^— — — ^— — ^■^— — — ^ii^-^—— ^^»-— ^1— — i^^^^— i^i—— 
 
 '"What have you seen?' she cried; and then, as I only 
 pointed to her bonnet, she turned to you, and you said, 'Was 
 it the black dog, father?' 
 
 "Gavin, then she knew; and I stood helpless and watched 
 my wife grow old. In that moment she lost the sprightliness 
 I loved the more because I had none of it myself, and the 
 bloom went from her face never to return. 
 
 " 'He has come back,' she said. 
 
 "I told her what I had seen, and while I spoke she put on 
 her bonnet, and I exulted, thinking — and then she took off 
 her bonnet, and I knew she would not go away with me. 
 
 " 'Margaret,' I cried, 'I am that bairn's father." 
 
 " 'Adam's my man,' she said, and at that I gave her a look 
 for which God might have struck me dead. But instead of 
 blaming me she put her arms round my neck. 
 
 "After that we said very little. We sat at opposite sides 
 of the fire, waiting for him, and you played on the floor. 
 The harvesters trooped by, and there was a fiddle ; and when 
 it stopped, long stillness, and then a step. It was not Adam. 
 You fell asleep, and we could hear nothing but the sea. 
 There was a harvest moon. 
 
 "Once a dog ran past the door, and we both rose. Mar- 
 garet pressed her hands on her breast. Sometimes she looked 
 furtively at me, and I knew her thoughts. To me it was only 
 misery that had come, but to her it was shame, so that when 
 you woke and climbed into her lap she shivered at your touch. 
 I could not look at her after that, for there was a horror of 
 me growing in her face. 
 
 "Ten o'clock struck, and then again there was no sound 
 but the sea pouring itself out on the beach. It was long 
 after this, when to me there was still no other sound, that 
 Margaret screamed, and you hid behind her. Then I 
 heard it. 
 
 " 'Gavin,' Margaret said to me, 'be a good man all your 
 life.' 
 
 "It was louder now, and then it stopped. Above the wash 
 of the sea we heard another sound, — a sharp tap, tap. You 
 said, 'I know what sound that is; it's a man knocking the 
 ashes out of his pipe against his boot.' 
 
 "Then the dog pushed the door off the latch, and Adam 
 lurched in. He was not drunk, but he brought the smell of 
 drink into the room with him. He was grinning like one 
 bringing rare news, and before she could shrink back or I 
 could strike him he had Margaret in his arms.
 
 194 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 ^— — — — ~-^— ^■^^— — ^■^■— ^^^— "^■■"~'*"'"— ™—^'^~^"~'^— — ™^^ - 
 
 " 'Lord, lass,' he said, with many jovial oaths, 'to think 
 I'm back again ! There, she's swounded. What folks be 
 women, to be sure.' 
 
 " 'We thought you were dead, Adam,' she said^ coming to. 
 
 "'Bless your blue eyes,' he answered, gleefully; 'often I 
 says to myself, "Meggy will be thinking I'm with the fishes," 
 and then I chuckles.' 
 
 " 'Where have you been all this time ?' I demanded, sternly. 
 
 " 'Gavin,' he said, effusively, 'your hand. And don't look 
 so feared, man; I bear no malice for what you've done. I 
 heard all about it at the Cross Anchors.' 
 
 " 'Where have you been these five years and a half ?' I 
 repeated. 
 
 " 'Where have I no been, lad?' he replied. 
 
 " 'At Harvie,' I said. 
 
 " 'Right you are,' said he, good-naturedly. 'Meggie, I had 
 no intention of leaving you that day, though I was yawning 
 myself to death in Harvie; but I sees a whaler, and I thinks, 
 "That's a tidy boat, and I'm a tidy man, and if they'll take 
 me and the dog, off we go." ' 
 
 " 'You never wrote to me,' Margaret said. 
 
 " 'I meant to send you some scrapes,' he answered, 'but it 
 wasna till I changed ships that I had the chance, and then I 
 minds, "Meggy kens I'm no hand with the pen." But I 
 swear I often thought of you, lass ; and look you here, that's 
 better than letters, and so is that, and every penny of it is 
 yours.' 
 
 "He flung two bags of gold upon the table, and their chink 
 brought you out from behind your mother. 
 
 "'Hallo!' Adam cried. 
 
 " 'He is mine,' I said. 'Gavin, come here.' But Margaret 
 held you back. 
 
 " 'Here's a go,' Adam muttered, and scratched his head. 
 Then he slapped his thigh. 'Gavin,' he said, in his friendli- 
 est way, 'we'll toss for him.' 
 
 "He pulled the knife that is now in my desk from his 
 pocket, spat on it, and flung it up. 'Dry, the kid's ours, 
 Meggy,' he explained; 'wet, he goes to Gavin.' I clinched 
 my fist to — But what was the use? He caught the knife, 
 and showed it to me. 
 
 " 'Dry,' he saidj triumphantly ; 'so he is ours, Meggy. 
 Kiddy, catch the knife. It is yours; and, mind, you have 
 changed dads. And now that we have settled that, Gavin, 
 there's my hand again.'
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 195 
 
 "I went away and left them, and I never saw Margaret 
 again until the day you brought her to Thrums. But I saw 
 you once, a few days after Adam came back. I was in the 
 schoolhouse, packing my books, and you were playing on the 
 waste ground. I asked you how your mother was, and you 
 said, 'She's fleid to come to the door till you gang awa, and 
 niy father's buying a boat.' 
 
 " 'I'm your father,' I said ; but you answered, confidently : 
 
 " 'You're no a living man. You're just a man I dreamed 
 about ; and I promised my mother no to dream about you 
 again.' 
 
 " 'I am your father,' I repeated. 
 
 " 'My father's awa buying a fishing-boat,' you insisted ; 
 'and when I speir at my mother whaur my first father is, she 
 says I'm havering.' 
 
 " 'Gavin Ogilvy is your name,' I said. 'No,' you answered, 
 'I have a new name. My mother telled me my name is aye 
 to be Gavin Dishart now. She telled me, too, to fling awa 
 this knife my father gave me, and I've flung it awa a lot o' 
 times, but I aye pick it up again.' 
 
 " 'Give it to me,' I said, with the wicked thoughts of a fool 
 in my head. 
 
 "That is how your knife came into my possession. I left 
 Harvie that night in the carrier's cart, but I had not the heart 
 to return to college. Accident brought me here, and I thought 
 it a fitting place in which to bury myself from Margaret." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 SECOND JOURNEY OF THE DOMINIE TO THRUMS DURING THE 
 TWENTY-FOUR HOURS. 
 
 Here was a nauseous draught for me. Having finished my 
 tale, I turned to Gavin for sympathy; and, behold, he had 
 been listening for the cannon, instead of to my final words. 
 So, like an old woman at her hearth, we warm our hands at 
 our sorrows and drop in fagots, and each thinks his own fire 
 a sun, in presence of which all other fires should go out. 
 I was soured to see Gavin prove this, and then I could have 
 laughed without mirth, for had not my bitterness proved 
 it, too? 
 
 "And now," I said, rising, "whether Margaret is to hold
 
 196 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 up her head henceforth lies no longer with me, but with 
 you." 
 
 It was not to that he replied. 
 
 "You have suffered long, Mr. Ogih'^'," he said. "Father," 
 he added, wringing my hand. I called him son ; but it was 
 only an exchange of musty words that we had found too late. 
 A father is a poor estate to come into at two and twenty. 
 
 "I should have been told of this," he said. 
 
 "Your mother did right, sir, I answered, slowly, but he 
 shook his head. 
 
 t "1 think you have misjudged her, he said. 'Doubtless while 
 my fa — , while Adam Dishart lived, she could only think of 
 you with pain; but after his death — " 
 
 "After his death," I said, quietly, "I was still so horrible 
 to her that she left Harvie without letting a soul know 
 whither she was bound. She dreaded my following her." 
 
 "Stranger to me," he said, after a pause, "than even your 
 Story is her being able to keep it from me. I believed no 
 thought ever crossed her mind that she did not let me share.'"' 
 
 "And none, I am sure, ever did," I answered, "save that, 
 and such thoughts as a woman has with God only. It was 
 my lot to bring disgrace on her. She thought it nothing 
 less, and she has hidden it all these years for your sake, 
 until now it is not burdensome. I suppose she feels that 
 God has taken the weight off her. Now you are to put a 
 heavier burden in its place." 
 
 He faced me boldly, and I admire him for it now. 
 
 "I cannot admit," he said, "that I did wrong in forgetting 
 my mother for that fateful quarter of an hour. Babbie and 
 I loved each other, and I was given the opportunity of making 
 her mine or losing her for ever. Have you forgotten that all 
 this tragedy you have told me of only grew out of your own 
 indecision? I took the chance that you let slip by." 
 
 "I had not forgotten," I replied. "What else made me 
 tell you last night that Babbie was in Nanny's house ?" 
 
 "But now you are afraid, — now when the deed is done, 
 when for me there cau be no turning back. Whatever be 
 the issue, I should be a cur to return to Thrums without my 
 wife. Every minute I feel my strength returning, and before 
 you reach Thrums I will have set out to the Spittal." 
 
 There was nothing to say after that. He came with me in 
 the rain as far as the dyke, warning me against telling his 
 people what was not true. 
 
 "My first part," I answered, "will be to send word to
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 197 
 
 your mother that you are in safety. After that I must see 
 Whamond. Much depends on him." 
 
 "You will not go to my mother?" 
 
 "Not so long as she has a roof over her head/' I said, 
 "but that may not be for long." 
 
 So, I think, we parted, — each soon to forget the other in 
 a woman. 
 
 But I had not gone far when I heard something that 
 stopped me as sharply as if it had been McKenzie's hand 
 once more on my shoulder. For a second the noise appalled 
 me, and then, before the echo began, I knew it must be the 
 Spittal cannon. My only thought was one of thankful- 
 ness. Now Gavin must see the wisdom of my reasoning. I 
 would wait for him until he was able to come with me 
 to Thrums. I turned back, and in my haste I ran through 
 water I had gone round before. 
 
 I was too late. He was gone, and into the rain I shouted 
 his name in vain. That he had started for the Spittal there 
 could be no doubt ; that he would ever reach it was less 
 certain. The earl's collie was still crouching by the fire, 
 and, thmking it might be a guide to him, I drove the brute 
 to the door, and chased it in the direction he probably had 
 taken. Not until it had run from me did I resume my own 
 journey. I do not need to be told that you who read would 
 follow Gavin now rather than me; but you must bear with 
 the dominie for a little while yet, as I see no other way 
 of making things clear. 
 
 In some ways I was not ill equipped for my attempt. I 
 do not know any one of our hillsides as it is known to the 
 shepherd, to whom every rabbit-hole and glimmer of mica 
 is a landmark ; but he, like his flock, has only to cross a 
 dyke to find himself in a strange land, while I have been 
 everywhere in the glen. 
 
 In the foreground the rain slanted, transparent till it 
 reached the ground, where a mist seemed to blow it along 
 as wind ruffles grass. In the distance all was a driving 
 mist. I have been out for perhaps an hour in rains as 
 wetting, and I have watched floods from my window, but 
 never since have I known the fifth part of a season's rain- 
 fall in eighteen hours ; and if there should be the like here 
 again, we shall be found better prepared for it. Men have 
 been lost in the glen in mists so thick that they could plunge 
 their fingers out of sight in it as into a meal girnel ; but 
 this mist never came within twenty yards of me. I was
 
 198 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 e — 
 
 surrounded by it, however, as if I was in a round tent; 
 and out of this tent I could not walk, for it advanced with 
 me. On the other side of this screen were horrible noises, 
 at whose cause I could only guess, save now and again when 
 a tongue of water w-as shot at my feet, or great stones came 
 crashing through the canvas of mist. Then I ran wherever 
 safety prompted, and thus tangled my bearings initil I 
 was like that one in the child's game who is blindfolded 
 and turned round three times that he may not know east 
 from west. 
 
 Once I stumbled over a dead sheep and a living lamb; 
 and in a clump of trees which puzzled me — for they were 
 where I thought no trees should be — a wood-pigeon fiew 
 to me, but struck my breast with such force that I picked 
 it up dead. I saw no other living thing, though half a 
 dozen times I must have passed within cry of farmhouses. 
 At one time I was in a corn field, where I had to lift my 
 hands to keep them out of water, and a dread filled me 
 that I had wandered in a circle, and was still on Waster 
 Lunny's land. I plucked some corn and held it to my eyes 
 to see if it was green; but it was yellow, and so I knew 
 that at last I was out of the glen. 
 
 People up here will complain if I do not tell how I found 
 the farmer of Green Brae's fifty pounds. It is one of 
 the best-remembered incidents of the flood, and happened 
 shortly after I got out of the corn field. A house rose 
 suddenly before me, and I was hastening to it when as 
 suddenly three of its walls fell. Before my mind could 
 give a meaning to what my e3''es told it, the water that 
 had brought down the house had lifted me off my feet 
 and flung me among waves. That would have been 
 the last of the dominie had I not struck against a chest, 
 then half way on its voyage to the sea. I think the lid 
 gave way under me ; but that is surmise, for from the time 
 the house fell till I was on the river in a kist that was 
 like to be my coffin, is almost a blank. After what may 
 have been but a short journey, though I had time in it 
 to say my prayers twice, we stopped, jammed among fallen 
 trees; and seeing a bank within reach, I tried to creep 
 up it. In this there would have been little difficulty had 
 not the contents of the kist caught in my feet and held 
 on to them, like living things afraid of being left behind. 
 I let down my hands to disentangle my feet, but failed; and 
 then, grown desperate, I succeeded in reaching firm ground,
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 199 
 
 dragging I knew not what after me. It proved to be a 
 pillow-slip. Green Brae still shudders when I tell him 
 that my first impulse was to leave the pillow-slip unopened. 
 However, I ripped it up, for to undo the wet strings that 
 had ravelled round my feet would have wearied even a 
 man with a needle to pick open the knots; and among broken 
 gimlets, the head of a grape, and other things no beggar 
 would have stolen, I found a tin canister containing fifty 
 pounds. Waster Lunny says that this should have made a 
 religious man of Green Brae, and it did to this extent, that 
 he called the fall of the cotter's house providential. Other- 
 wise, the cotter, at whose expense it may be said the money 
 was found, remains the more religious man of the two. 
 
 At last I came to the Kelpie's brig, and I could have 
 wept in joy (and might have been better employed), when, 
 like everything I saw on that journey, it broke suddenly 
 through the mist, and seemed to run at me like a living 
 monster. Next moment I ran back, for as I stepped upon 
 the bridge I saw that I had been about to walk into the 
 air. Wliat was left of the Kelpie's brig ended in mid- 
 stream. Instead of thanking God for the light without 
 which I should have gone abruptly to my death, I sat down, 
 miserable and hopeless. 
 
 Presently I was up and trudging to the Loups of Malcolm, 
 At the Loups the river runs narrow and deep between 
 cliffs, and the spot is so called because one Malcolm jumped 
 across it when pursued by wolves. Next day he returned 
 boastfully to look at his jump, and gazing at it turned 
 dizzy and fell into the river. Since that time chains 
 have been hung across the Loups to reduce the distance be- 
 tween the farms of Carwhimple and Keep-What-You-Can 
 . from a mile to a hundred yards. You must cross the chains 
 ! on your breast. They were suspended there by Rob Angus, 
 I who was also the first to breast them. 
 
 I But I never was a Rob Angus. When my pupils practise 
 I what they call the high jump, two small boys hold a string 
 t aloft, and the bigger ones run at it gallantly until they 
 j reach it, when they stop meekly and creep beneath. They 
 I will repeat this twenty times, and yet never, when they start 
 i for the string, seem to know where their courage will fail. 
 I Nay, they will even order the small boys to hold the string 
 1 higher. I have smiled at this, but it was the same courage 
 I while the difficulty is far off that took me to the Loups 
 i At sight of them I turned awav.
 
 200 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 I prayed to God for a little of the mettle of other men. 
 and He heard me, for with my eyes shut I seemed to see 
 Margaret beckoning from across the abyss as if she had need 
 of me. Then I rose calmly and tested the chains, and 
 crossed them on my breast. Many have done it with the 
 same danger, at which they laugh, but without that vision 
 I should have held back. 
 
 I was now across the river, and so had left the chance 
 of drowning behind, but I was farther from Thrums than 
 when I left the schoolhouse, and this country-side was 
 almost unknown to me. The mist had begun to clear, so 
 that I no longer wandered into fields ; but though I kept 
 to the roads, I could not tell that they led towards Thrums, 
 and in my exhaustion I had often to stand still. Then to 
 make a new start in the mud was like pulling stakes out 
 of the ground. So long as the rain faced me I thought I 
 could not be straying far; but after an hour I lost this 
 guide, for a wind rose that blew it in all directions. 
 
 In another hour, when I should have been drawing near 
 Thrums, I found myself in a wood, and here I think my dis- 
 tress was greatest ; nor is this to be marvelled at, for, 
 instead of being near Thrums, I was listening to the monot- 
 onous roar of the sea. I was too spent to reason, but I 
 knew that I must have travelled direct east, and must be 
 close to the German Ocean. I remember putting my back 
 against a tree and shutting my eyes, and listening to the 
 lash of the waves against the beach, and hearing the faint 
 toll of a bell, and wondering listlessly on what lighthouse 
 it was ringing. Doubtless I would have lain down to 
 sleep for ever had I not heard another sound near at 
 hand. It was the knock of a hammer on wood, and might 
 have been a fisherman mending his boat. The instinct of 
 self-preservation carried me to it, and presently I was 
 at a little house. A man was standing in the rain hammer- 
 ing new hinges to the door ; and though I did not recognise 
 him, I saw with bewilderment that the woman at his side 
 was Nanny, 
 
 "It's the dominie," she cried, and her brother added: 
 "Losh, sir, you hinna the look o' a living man." 
 "Nanny," I said, in perplexity, "what are you doing here?" 
 "Whaur else should I be ?" she asked. 
 
 I pressed my hands over my eyes, crying, "Where am I?" 
 Nanny shrank from me, but Sanders said, "Has the rain 
 driven you gyte, man? You're in Thrums."
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 201 
 
 "But the sea," I said, distrusting him. "I hear it. Listen !" 
 "That's the wind in Windyghoul," Sanders answered, look- 
 ing at me queerly. "Come awa into the house." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THRUMS DURING THE TWENTY-FOUR HOURS — DEFENCE OF 
 THE MANSE. 
 
 Hardly had I crossed the threshold of the mud house 
 when such a sickness came over me that I could not have 
 looked up, though Nanny's voice had suddenly changed to 
 Margaret's. Vaguely I knew that Nanny had put the kettle 
 on the fire, — a woman's first thought when there is ill- 
 ness in the house, — and as I sat with my hands over my 
 face I heard the water dripping from my clothes to the floor. 
 
 "Why is that bell ringing?" I asked, at last, ignoring all 
 questions and speaking through my fingers. An artist, I 
 suppose, could paint all expression out of a human face. 
 The sickness was having that effect on my voice. 
 
 "It's the Auld Licht bell," Sanders said; "and it's almost 
 as fearsome to listen to as last nicht's rain. I wish I kent 
 what they're ringing it for." 
 
 "Wish no sic things," said Nancy, nervously. "There's 
 things it's best to put off kenning as lang as we can." 
 
 "It's that ill-cleakit witch, Efiie McBean, that makes Nanny 
 speak so doleful," Sanders told me. "There was to be a 
 prayer-meeting last nicht^ but, Mr. Dishart never came to't, 
 though they rang till they wraxed their arms; and now 
 Effie says it'll ring on by itsel' till he's brocht hame a corp. 
 The hellicat says the rain's a dispensation to drown him 
 in for neglect o' duty. Sal, I would think little o' the Lord 
 if He needed to create a new sea to drown one man in. 
 Nanny, you cuttie, that's no swearing; I defy you to find 
 a single lonely oath in what I've said." 
 
 "Never mind Effie McBean," I interposed. "What are 
 the congregation saying about the minister's absence ?" 
 
 "We ken little except what Effie telled us," Nanny an- 
 swered. "I was at Tilliedrum yestreen, meeting Sanders 
 as he got out o' the gaol, and that awfu' onding began when 
 we was on the Bellies Braes. We focht our way through it, 
 but not a soul did we meet; and wha would gang out the
 
 202 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 day that can bide at hame ? Ay, but Effie says it's kent 
 in Thrums that Mr. Dishart has run off wi' — wi' an Egyp- 
 tian." 
 
 '"You're waur than her, Nanny," Sanders said, roughly, 
 "for you hae twa reasons for kenning better. In the first 
 place, has Mr. Dishart no keeped you in siller a' the time 
 I was awa? and for another, have I no been at the manse?" 
 
 My head rose now. 
 
 "He gaed to the manse," Nanny explained, "to thank Mr. 
 Dishart for being so good to me. Ay, but Jean wouldna 
 let him in. I'm thinking that looks gey gray." 
 
 "Whatever was her reason," Sanders admitted, "Jean 
 wouldna open the door ; but I keeked in at the parlour win- 
 dow, and saw Mrs. Dishart in't, looking very cosylike and 
 lauching; and do you think I would hae seen that if ill had 
 come ower the minister ?" 
 
 "Not if Margaret knew of it," I said to myself, and won- 
 dered at Whamond's forbearance. 
 
 "She had a skein o' worsted stretched out on her hands," 
 Sanders continued, "and a young leddy was winding it. I 
 didna see her richt, but she wasna a Thrums leddy." 
 
 "Effie McBean says she's his intended, come to call him 
 to account," Nanny said; but I hardly listened, for I saw 
 that I must hurry to Tanmias Whamond's. Nanny followed 
 me to the gate with her gown pulled over her head, and 
 said, excitedly : 
 
 "Oh, dominie, I warrant it's true. It'll be Babbie. Sanders 
 doesna suspect, because I've telled him nothing about her. 
 Oh, what's to be done ? They were baith so good to me." 
 
 I could only tell her to keep what she knew to herself. 
 
 "Has Rob Dow come back ?" I called out after I had started. 
 
 "Whaur f rae ?" she replied; and then I remembered that 
 all these things had happened while Nanny was at Tilliedrum. 
 In this life some of the seven ages are spread over two 
 decades, and others pass as quickly as a stage play. Though 
 a fifth of a season's rain had fallen in a night and a day, 
 it had scarcely kept pace with Gavin. 
 
 I hurried to the town by the Roods. That brae was as 
 deserted as the country roads, except where children had 
 escaped from their mothers to wade in it. Here and there 
 dams were keeping the water away from one door to send 
 it with greater volume to another, and at points the ground 
 had fallen in. But this I noticed without interest. I did 
 not even realise that I was holding my head painfully to
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 203 
 
 the side where it had been blown by the wind and glued by the 
 rain. I have never held my head straight since that journey. 
 
 Only a few looms were going, their pedals in water. I 
 was addressed from several doors and windows, once by 
 Charles Yuill. 
 
 "Dinna pretend," he said, "that you've walked in frae 
 the schoolhouse alane. The rain chased me into this house 
 yestreen, and here it has keeped me, though I bide no 
 further awa than Tillyloss." 
 
 "Charles," I said, in a low voice, "why is the Auld Licht 
 bell ringing?" 
 
 "Hae you no heard about Mr. Dishart?" he asked. "Oh, 
 man ! that's Lang Tammas in the kirk by himsel', tearing at 
 the bell to bring the folk thegither to depose the minister." 
 
 Instead of going to Whamond's house in the school wynd 
 I hastened down the Banker's close to the kirk, and had 
 almost to turn back, so choked was the close with the float- 
 ing refuse. I could see the bell swaying, but the kirk was 
 locked, and I battered on the door to no purpose. Then, 
 remembering that Hendry Munn lived in Coutt's trance, I set 
 off for his house. He saw me crossing the square, but 
 would not open his door until I was close to it. 
 
 "When I open," he cried, "squeeze through quick ;" 
 but though I did his bidding a rush of water darted in 
 before me. Hendry reclosed the door by flinging himself 
 against it. 
 
 "When I saw you crossing the square," he said, "it was 
 surprise enough to cure the hiccup." 
 
 "Hendry," I replied, instantly, "why is the Auld Licht 
 bell ringing?" 
 
 He put his finger to his lip. "I see," he said, imperturbably, 
 "you've met our folk in the glen and heard frae them about 
 the minister." 
 
 "What folk?" 
 
 "Mair than half the congregation," he replied. "I started 
 for Glen Quharity twa hours syne to help the farmers. You 
 didna see them?" 
 
 "No ; they must have been on the other side of the river." 
 Again that question forced my lips, "Why is the bell ringing?" 
 
 "Canny, dominie," he said, "till we're up the stair. Mysy 
 Moncur's lug's at her keyhole listening to you." 
 
 "You lie, Hendry Munn," cried an invisible woman. The 
 voice became more plaintive : "I ken a heap, Hendry, so 
 you may as well tell me a'."
 
 204 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "Lick away at the bone you hae," the shoemaker replied, 
 heartlessly, and conducted me to his room up one of the 
 few inside stairs then in Thrums. Hendry's oddest fur- 
 niture was five boxes, fixed to the wall at such a height 
 that children could climb into them from a high stool. In 
 these his bairns slept, and so space was economised. I 
 could never laugh at the arrangement, as I knew that Betty 
 had planned it on her death-bed for her man's sake. Five 
 little heads bobbed up in their beds as I entered, but more 
 vexing to me was Wearyworld on a stool. 
 
 "In by, dominie," he said, sociably. "Sal, you needna 
 fear burning wi' a' that water on you. You're in mair 
 danger o' coming a-boil." 
 
 "I want to speak to you alone, Hendry," I said, bluntly. 
 
 "You winna put me out, Hendry?" the alarmed police- 
 man entreated. "Mind, you said in sic weather you would 
 be friendly to a brute beast. Ay, ay, dominie, what's your 
 news? It's welcome, be it good or bad. You would meet 
 the townsfolk in the glen, and they would tell you about 
 Mr. Dishart. What, you hinna heard? Oh, sirs, he's a lost 
 man. There would hae been a meeting the day to depose 
 him if so many hadna gaen to the glen. But the morn'il 
 do as weel. The very women is cursing him, and the laddies 
 has begun to gather stanes. He's married on an Egyp — •" 
 
 "Hendry !" I cried, like one giving an order. 
 
 "Wearyworld, step !" said Hendry, sternly, and then added, 
 sof t-heartedly : "Here's a bit news that'll open Mysy Mon- 
 cur's door to you. You can tell her frae me that the bell's 
 ringing just because I forgot to tie it up last nicht, and 
 the wind's shaking it, and I winna gang out in the rain 
 to stop it." 
 
 "Ay," the policeman said, looking at me sulkily, "she may 
 open her door for that, but it'll no let me in. Tell me 
 mair. Tell me wha the leddy at the manse is." 
 
 "Out you go," answered Hendry. "Once she opens the 
 door, you can shove your foot in, and syne she's in your 
 power." He pushed Wearyworld out, and came back to me, 
 saying, "It was best to tell him the truth, to keep him frae 
 making up lies." 
 
 "But is it the truth? I was told Lang Tammas — " 
 
 "Ay, I ken that story; but Tammas has other work on 
 hand." 
 
 "Then tie up the bell at once, Hendry," I urged. 
 
 "I canna," he answered, gravely. "Tammas took the keys
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 205 
 
 o' the kirk fram me yestreen, and winna gie them up. He 
 «ays the bell's being rung by the hand o' God." 
 
 "Has he been at the manse? Does Mrs. Dishart know — ?" 
 
 "He's been at the manse twa or three times, but Jean barred 
 him out. She'll let nobody in till the minister comes back, 
 and so the mistress kens nothing. But what's the use o' 
 keeping it frae her ony langer?" 
 
 "Every use," I said. 
 
 "None," answered Hendry, sadly. "Dominie, the min- 
 ister was married to the Egyptian on the hill last nicht, and 
 Tammas was witness. Not only were they married, but 
 they've run aff thegither." 
 
 "You are wrong, Hendry," I assured him, telling as much 
 as I dared. "I left Mr. Dishart in my house." 
 
 "What ! But if that is so, how did he no come back wi' 
 you ?" 
 
 "Because he was nearly drowned in the flood." 
 
 ••'She'll be wi' him?" 
 
 "He was alone." 
 
 Hendry's face lit up dimly with joy, and then he shook 
 his head. "Tammas was witness," he said. "Can you deny 
 the marriage?" 
 
 "All I ask of you," I answered, guardedly, "is to suspend 
 judgment until the minister returns." 
 
 "There can be nothing done, at ony rate," he said, "till 
 the folk themsel's come back frae the glen; and I needna 
 tell you how glad we would a' be to be as fond o' him 
 as ever. But Tammas was witness." 
 
 "Have pity on his mother, man." 
 
 "We've done the best for her we could," he replied. "We 
 prigged wi' Tammas no to gang to the manse till we was 
 sure the minister was living. 'For if he has been drowned,' 
 we said, 'his mother need never ken what we were thinking 
 o' doing.' Ay, and we're sorry for the young leddy, too." 
 
 "What young lady is this you all talk of?" I asked. 
 
 "She's his intended. Ay, you needna start. She has 
 come a' the road frae Glasgow to challenge him about the 
 gj^psy. The pitiful thing is that Mrs. Dishart lauched awa 
 her fears, and now they're baith waiting for his return, as 
 happy as ignorance can make them." 
 
 "There is no such lady," I said. 
 
 "But there is," he answered, doggedly, "for she came in 
 a machine late last nicht, and I was ane o' a dozen that baith 
 heard and saw it through my window. It stopped at the
 
 206 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 manse near half an hour. What's mair, the lady hersel' 
 was at Sam'l Farquharson's in the Tenements the day for 
 twa hours." 
 
 I listened in bewilderment and fear. 
 
 "Sam'I's bairn's down wi' scarlet fever and like to die, 
 and him being a widow-man he has gone useless. You 
 mauna blame the wives in the Tenements for handing back. 
 They're fleid to smit their ain litlins ; and as it happens, 
 SamTs friends is a' afif to the glen. Weel, he ran greeting 
 to the manse for Mr. Dishart, and the lady heard him cry- 
 ing to Jean through the door, and what does she do but 
 gang straucht to the Tenements wi' Sam'l. Her goodness 
 has naturally put the folk on her side against the minister." 
 
 "This does not prove her his intended," I broke in. 
 
 "She was heard saying to Sam'l," answered the kirk offi- 
 cer, "that the minister being awa, it was her duty to take 
 his place. Yes, and though she little kent it, he was already 
 married." 
 
 "Hendry," I said, rising, "I must see this lady at once. 
 Is she still at Farquharson's house?" 
 
 "She may be back again by this time. Tammas set off 
 for Sam'I's as soon as he heard she was there, but he just 
 missed her. I left him there an hour syne. He was wait- 
 ing for her, determined to tell her all." 
 
 I set off for the Tenements at once, declining Hendry's 
 company. The wind had fallen, so that the bell no longer 
 rang, but the rain was falling doggedly. The streets were 
 still deserted. I pushed open the precentor's door in the 
 school wynd, but there was no one in the house. Tibbie 
 Birse saw me, and shouted from her door : 
 
 "Hae you heard o' Mr. Dishart? He'll never daur show 
 face in Thrums again." 
 
 Without giving her a word I hastened to the Tenements. 
 
 "The Icddy's no here," Sam'l Farquharson told me, "and 
 Tammas is back at the manse again, trying to force his 
 way in." 
 
 From Sam'l, too, I turned, with no more than a groan; 
 but he cried after me, "^erdition on the man that has played 
 that leddy false." 
 
 Had Margaret been at her window she must have seen 
 me, so recklessly did I hurry up the minister's road, with 
 nothing in me but a passion to take Whamond by the throat. 
 He was not in the garden. The kitchen door was open. 
 Jean was standing at it with her apron to her eyes.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 207 
 
 "Tammas Whamond ?" I demanded, and my face completed 
 the question. 
 
 "You're ower late," she wailed. "He's wi' her. Oh, 
 dominie, whaur's the minister?" 
 
 "You base woman !" I cried, 'Svhy did you unbar the 
 door ?" 
 
 "It was the mistress," she answered. "She heard him 
 shaking it, and I had to tell her wha it was. Dominie, it's a' 
 my wite ! He tried to get in last nicht, and roared threats 
 through the door, and after he had gone awa she speired 
 wha I had been speaking to. I had to tell her, but I said 
 he had come to let her ken that the minister was taking 
 shelter frae the rain in a farmhouse. Ay, I said he was 
 to bide there till the flood gaed down, and that's how she 
 has been easy a' day. I acted for the best, but I'm sair 
 punished now; for when she heard Tammas at the door twa 
 or three minutes syne, she ordered me to let him in, so 
 that she could thank him for bringing the news last nicht, 
 despite the rain. They're in the parlour. Oh, dominie, 
 gang in and stop his mouth." 
 
 This was hard. I dared not go to the parlour. Margaret 
 might have died at sight of me. I turned my face from 
 Jean. 
 
 "Jean," said some one, opening the inner kitchen door, 
 "why did you — ?" 
 
 She stopped, and that was what turned me round. As 
 she spoke, I thought it was the young lady; when I looked 
 I saw it was Babbie, though no longer in a gypsy's dress. 
 Then I knew that the young lady and Babbie were one. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 HOW BABBIE SPENT THE NIGHT OF AUGUST FOURTH. 
 
 How had the Egyptian been spirited here from the Spittal ? 
 I did not ask the question. To interest myself in Babbie 
 at that dire hour of Margaret's life would have been as 
 impossible to me as to sit down to a book. To others, 
 however, it is only an old woman on whom the parlour door 
 of the manse has closed, only a garrulous dominie that is 
 in pain outside it. Your eyes are on the young wife. 
 
 When Babbie was plucked off the hill, she thought as
 
 208 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 little as Gavin that her captor was Rob Dow. Close as he 
 was to her, he was but a shadow unfil she screamed the sec- 
 ond time, when he pressed her to the ground, and tied his 
 neckerchief over her mouth. Then, in the moment that 
 power of utterance was taken from her, she saw the face 
 that had startled her at Nanny's window. Half carried, she 
 was borne forward rapidly, until some one seemed to rise out 
 of the broom, and strike them both. They had only run 
 against the doctor's trap ; and, huddling her into it, Dow 
 jumped up beside her. He tied her hands together with a 
 cord. For a time the horse feared the darkness in front 
 more than the lash behind; but when the rains became ter- 
 rific, it rushed ahead wildly, — probably with its eyes shut. 
 
 In three minutes Babbie went through all the degrees of 
 fear. In the first she thought Lord Rintoul had kidnapped 
 her; but no sooner had her captor resolved himself into Dow, 
 drunk with the events of the day and night, than in the 
 earl's hands would have lain safety. Next, Dow was for- 
 gotten in the dread of a sudden death which he must share. 
 And lastly, the rain seemed to be driving all other horrors 
 back, that it might have her for its own. Her perils in- 
 creased to the unbearable as quickly as an iron in the fire 
 passes through the various stages between warmth and white 
 heat. Then she had to do something; and as she could not 
 cry out, she flung herself from the dog-cart. She fell 
 heavily in Caddam Wood, but the rain would not let her 
 lie there stunned. It beat her back to consciousness, and 
 she sat up on her knees, and listened breathlessl)^ staring 
 in the direction the trap had taken, as if her eyes could help 
 her ears. 
 
 All night, I have said, the rain poured, but those charges , 
 only rode down the deluge at intervals, as now and again 
 one wave greater than the others stalks over the sea. In 
 the first lull it appeared to Babbie that the storm had swept 
 by, leaving her to Dow. Now she heard the rubbing of the 
 branches, and felt the torn leaves falling on her gown. She 
 rose to feel her way out of the wood with her bound hands, 
 then sank in terror, for some one had called her name. Next 
 moment she was up again, for the voice was Gavin's, who 
 was hurrying after her, as he thought, down Windyghoul. 
 He was no farther away than a whisper might have carried 
 on a still night, but she dared not pursue liim, for already 
 Dow was coming back. She could not see him, but she 
 heard the horse whinny and the rocking of the dog-cart.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 209 
 
 Dow was now at the brute's head, and probably it tried 
 to bite him, for he struck it, crying : 
 
 "Would you ? Stand still till I find her. I heard her move 
 this minute." 
 
 Babbie crouched upon a big stone and sat motionless 
 while he groped for her. Her breathing might have been 
 tied now, as well as her mouth. She heard him feeling for 
 her, first with his feet and then with his hands, and swear- 
 ing when his head struck against a tree. 
 
 ''I ken you're within hearing," he muttered, "and I'll hae 
 you yet. I have a gully-knife in my hand. Listen!" 
 
 He severed a whin-stalk with the knife, and Babbie seemed 
 to see the gleam of the blade. 
 
 "What do I mean by wanting to kill you?" he said, as 
 if she had asked the question. "Do you no ken wha said 
 to me, 'Kill this woman?' It was the Lord. 'I winna kill 
 her,' I said, 'but I'll cart her out o' the country.' 'Kill 
 her,' says He ; 'why encumbereth she the ground ?' " 
 
 He resumed his search, but with new tactics. "I see 
 you now," he would cry, and rush forward perhaps within 
 a yard of her. Then she must have screamed had she had 
 the power. When he tied that neckerchief round her mouth 
 he prolonged her life. 
 
 Then came the second hurricane of rain, so appalling that 
 had Babbie's hands been free she would have pressed them 
 to her ears. For a full minute she forgot Dow's presence. 
 A living thing touched her face. The horse had found 
 her. She recoiled from it, but its frightened head pressed 
 heavily on her shoulder. She rose and tried to steal away, 
 but the brute followed, and as the rain suddenly exhausted 
 itself she heard the dragging of the dog-cart. She had to 
 halt. 
 
 Again she heard Dow's voice. Perhaps he had been speak- 
 ing throughout the roar of the rain. If so, it must have 
 made him deaf to his own words. He groped for the horse's 
 head, and presently his hand touched Babbie's dress, then 
 jumped from it, so suddenly had lie found her. No sound 
 escaped him, and she was beginning to think it possible 
 that he had mistaken her for a bush when his hand went 
 over her face. He was making sure of his discovery. 
 
 "The Lord has delivered you into my hands," he said, in 
 a low voice, with some awe in it. Then he pulled her to 
 the ground, and, sitting dov/n beside her, rocked himself 
 backward and forward, his hands round his knees. She
 
 210 THE LITTLE ]\IimSTER 
 
 would have bartered the world for power to speak to 
 him. 
 
 "He wouldna hear o' my just cartmg you to some other 
 country-side," he said, confidentially. " 'The devil would just 
 blaw her back again/ says He, 'therefore kill her.' 'And 
 if I kill her,' I says, 'they'll hang me.' 'You can hang 
 yoursel',' says he. 'What wi'?' I speired. 'Wi' the reins 
 o' the dog-cart,' says He. 'They would break,' says I. 
 'VVeel, weel,' says He, 'though they do hang you, nobody'U 
 miss you.' 'That's true,' says I, 'and You are a just God.'" 
 
 He stood up and confronted her. 
 
 "Prisoner at the bar," he said, "hae ye onything to say 
 why sentence of death shouldna be pronounced against you? 
 She doesna answer. She kens death is her deserts." _ 
 
 By this time he had forgotten probably why his victim 
 was dumb. 
 
 "Prisoner at the bar, hand back to me the soul o' Gavin 
 Dishart. You winna? Did the devil, your master, summon 
 you to him and say, 'Either that 'noble man or me maun 
 leave Thrums?' He did. And did you, or did you no, 
 drag that minister, when under your spell, to the hill, and 
 there marry him ower the tongs? You did. Witnesses, 
 Rob Dow and Tammas Whamond." 
 
 She was moving from him on her knees, meaning when 
 out of arm's reach to make a dash for life. 
 
 "Sit down," he grumbled, "or how can you expect a fair 
 trial ? Prisoner at the bar, you have been found guilty 
 of witchcraft." 
 
 For the first time his voice faltered. 
 
 "That's the difficulty, for witches canna die, except by 
 burning or drowning. There's no blood in you for my 
 knife, and your neck wouldna twist. Your master has brocht 
 the rain to put out a' the fires, and we'll hae to wait till 
 it runs into a pool deep enough to drown you. 
 
 "I wonder at You, God. Do You believe her master'll 
 mak' the pool for her? He'll rather stop his rain. Mr. 
 Dishart said You was mair powerful than the devil, but 
 it doesna look like it. H You had the power, how did 
 You no stop this woman working her will on the minister? 
 You kent what she was doing, for You ken a' things. Mr. 
 Dishart says You ken a' things. If You do, the mair shame 
 to You. Would a shepherd, that could help it, let dogs 
 worry his sheep? Kill her! It's fine to cry 'Kill her,' but 
 whaur's the bonfire, whaur's the pool? You that made the
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 211 
 
 heaven and the earth, and all that in them is, can You 
 no set fire to some wet whins, or change this stane into a 
 mill-dam ?" 
 
 He struck the stone with his fist, and then gave a cry 
 of exultation. He raised the great slab in his arms and 
 flung it from him. In that moment Babbie might have run 
 away, but she fainted. Almost simultaneously with Dow she 
 knew this was the stone which covered the Caddam well. 
 When she came to, Dow was speaking, and his voice had 
 become solemn. 
 
 "You said your master was mair powerful than mine, and 
 I said it, too, and all the time you was sitting here wi' 
 the very pool aneath you that I have been praying for. 
 Listen !" 
 
 He dropped a stone into the well, and she heard it strike 
 the water. 
 
 "What are you shaking at?" he said, in reproof. "Was 
 it no yoursel' that chose the spot? Lassie, say your prayers. 
 Are you saying them?" 
 
 He put his hand over her face, to feel if her lips were 
 moving, and tore off the neckerchief. 
 
 And then again the rain came between them. In that 
 rain one could not think. Babbie did not know that she 
 had bitten through the string that tied her hands. She 
 planned no escape. But she flung herself at the place where 
 Dow had been standing. He was no longer there, and she 
 fell heavily, and was on her feet again in an instant, and 
 running recklessly. Trees intercepted her, and she thought 
 they were Dow, and wrestled with them. By and by she fell 
 into Windyghoul, and there she crouched until all her senses 
 were restored to her, when she remembered that she had 
 been married lately. 
 
 How long Dow was in discovering that she had escaped, 
 and whether he searched for her, no one knows. After a 
 time he jumped into the dog-cart again, and drove aimlessly 
 through the rain. That wild journey probably lasted two 
 hours, and came to an abrupt end only when a tree fell upon 
 the trap. The horse galloped off, but one of Dow's legs 
 was beneath the tree, and there he had to lie helpless, for 
 though the leg was little injured, he could not extricate him- 
 self. A night and day passed, and he believed that he must 
 die; but even in this plight he did not forget the man he 
 loved. He found a piece of slate, and in the darkness cut 
 these words on it with his knife:
 
 212 THE LITTLE INHNISTER 
 
 "Me being about to die, I solemnly swear I didna see the 
 minister marrying an Egyptian on the hill this nicht. May I 
 burn in Hell if this is no true. 
 
 (Signed) "Rob Dow." 
 
 This document he put in his pocket, and so preserved 
 proof of what he was perjuring himself to deny. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 BABBIE AND MARGARET — DEFENCE OF THE MANSE CONTINUED. 
 
 The 'Egyptian was mournful in Windyghoul, up which she 
 had once danced and sung; but you inust not think that 
 she still feared Dow. I felt McKenzie's clutch on my arm 
 for hours after he left me, but she was far braver than I; 
 indeed, dangers at which I should have shut my eyes only 
 made hers gleam, and I suppose it was sheer love of them 
 that first made her play the coquette with Gavin. If she 
 cried now, it was not for herself ; it was because she thought 
 she had destroyed him. Could I have gone to her then 
 and said that Gavin wanted to blot out the gypsy wedding, 
 that throbbing little breast would have frozen at once, and 
 the drooping head would have been proud again, and she 
 would have gone away for ever without another tear. 
 
 What do I say? I am doing a wrong to the love these 
 two bore each other. Babbie would not have taken so base 
 a message from my lips. He would have had to say the 
 words to her himself before she believed them his. What 
 would he Avant her to do now ? was the only question she 
 asked herself. To follow him was useless, for in that rain 
 and darkness two people might have searched for each other 
 all night in a single field. That he would go to the Spittal, 
 thinking her in Rintoul's dog-cart, she did not doubt ; and 
 his distress was painful to her to think of. But not know- 
 ing that the burns were *n flood, she underestimated his 
 danger. 
 
 Remembering that the mud house was near, she groped her 
 way to it, meaning to pass the night there ; but at the gate 
 she turned away hastily, hearing from the door the voice 
 of a man she did not know to be Nanny's brother. She 
 wandered recklessly a short distance, until the rain began
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 213 
 
 p— ^^^^^^■■^— ^^'^^™^^— "^— ^■— — ^■^^^™^^—" — ~— ^"^^^~^^"^'^ 
 
 to threaten again, and then, falling on her knees in the 
 broom, she prayed to God for guidance. When she rose 
 she set off for the manse. 
 
 The rain that followed the flash of lightning had brought 
 Margaret to the kitchen. 
 
 "Jean, did you ever hear such a rain? It is trying to 
 break into the manse." 
 
 "I canna hear you, ma'am ; is it the rain you're feared at ?" 
 
 "What else could it be?" 
 
 Jean did not answer. 
 
 "I hope the minister won't leave the church, Jean, till 
 this is over?" 
 
 "Nobody would daur, ma'am. The rain'U turn the key 
 on them all." 
 
 Jean forced out these words with difficulty, for she knew 
 that the church had been empty and the door locked for 
 over an hour. 
 
 "This rain has come as if in answer to the minister's 
 prayer, Jean." 
 
 "It wasna rain like this they wanted." 
 
 "Jean, you would not attempt to guide the Lord's hand. 
 The minister will have to reprove the people for thinking 
 too much of him again, for they will say that he induced 
 God to send the rain. To-night's meeting will be re- 
 membered long in Thrums." 
 
 Jean shuddered, and said, "It's mair like an ordinary rain 
 now, ma'am." 
 
 "But it has put out your fire, and I wanted another heater. 
 Perhaps the one I have is hot enough, though." 
 
 Margaret returned to the parlour, and from the kitchen 
 Jean could hear the heater tilted backward and forward 
 in the box-iron, — a pleasant, homely sound when there is 
 happiness in the house. Soon she heard a step outside, 
 however, and it was followed 'by a rough shaking of the 
 barred door. 
 
 "Is it you, Mr. Dishart?" Jean asked, nervously. 
 
 "It's me, Tammas Whamond," the precentor answered. 
 "Unbar the door." 
 
 "What do you want? Speak low." 
 
 "I winna speak low. Let me in. I hae nev^s for the 
 minister's mother." 
 
 "What news?" demanded Jean. 
 
 "Jean Proctor, as chief elder of the kirk I order you 
 to let me do my duty."
 
 214 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "Whaur's the minister?" 
 
 "He's a minister no longer. He's married a gypsy woman 
 and run avva wi' her." 
 
 "You lie, Tanimas Whamond. I believe — " 
 
 "Your belief's of no consequence. Open the door, and 
 let me in to tell your mistress what I hae seen." 
 
 "She'll hear it first frae his ain lips if she hears it ava. 
 I winna open the door." 
 
 "Then I'll burst it open." 
 
 Whamond flung himself at the door, and Jean, her fingers 
 rigid with fear, stood waiting for its fall. But the rain 
 came to her rescue by lashing the precentor until even he 
 was forced to run from it. 
 
 "I'll be back again," he cried. "Woe to you, Jean Proctor, 
 that hae denied your God this nicht." 
 
 "Who was that speaking to you, Jean?" asked Margaret, 
 reentering the kitchen. Until the rain abated Jean did not 
 attempt to answer. 
 
 "I thought it was the precentor's voice," Margaret said. 
 
 Jean was a poor hand at lying, and she stuttered in her 
 answer. 
 
 "There is nothing wrong, is there ?" cried Margaret, in 
 sudden fright. "My son — " 
 
 "Nothing, nothing." 
 
 The words jumped from Jean to save Margaret from fall- 
 ing. Now she could not take them back. "I winna believe 
 it o' him," said Jean to herself. "Let them say what they 
 will, I'll be true to him ; and when he comes back he'll find 
 her as he left her." 
 
 "It was Lang Tammas," she answered her mistress ; "but 
 he just came to say that — " 
 
 "Quick, Jean, what?" 
 
 "Mr. Dishart has been called to a sick bed in the country, 
 ma'am, — to the farm o' Look-About-You ; and as it's sic a 
 rain, he's to bide there a' nicht." 
 
 "And Whamond came through that rain to tell me this? 
 How good of him. Was there any other message ?" 
 
 "Just that the minister hoped you would go straight to 
 your bed, ma'am," said Jean, thinking to herself, "There 
 can be no great sin in giving her one mair happy nicht; 
 it may be her last." 
 
 The two women talked for a short time, and then read 
 verse about in the parlour from the third chapter of Mark. 
 
 "This is the first night we have been left alone in the
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 215 
 
 manse," Margaret said, as she was retiring to her bed- 
 room, "and we must not grudge the minister to those who 
 have sore need of him. I notice that you have barred the 
 doors." 
 
 "Ay, they're barred. Nobody can win in the nicht." 
 
 "Nobody will want in, Jean," Margaret said, smiling. 
 
 "I dinna ken about that," answered Jean, below her breath. 
 "Ay, ma'am, may you sleep for baith o' us this nicht, for 
 I daurna gang to my bed." 
 
 Jean was both right and wrong, for two persons wanted 
 in within the next half hour, and she opened the door to 
 both of them. The first to come was Babbie. 
 
 So long as women sit up of nights listening for a foot- 
 step, will they flatten their faces at the window, though 
 all without be black. Jean had not been back in the kitchen 
 for two minutes before she raised the blind. Her eyes 
 were close to the glass, when she saw another face almost 
 meet hers, as you may touch your reflection in a mirror. 
 But this face was not her own. It was white and sad. 
 Jean suppressed a cry, and let the blind fall, as if shutting 
 the lid on some uncanny thing. 
 
 "Won't you let me in?" said a voice that might have 
 been only the sob of a rain-beaten wind; "I am nearly 
 drowned." 
 
 Jean stood like death ; but her suppliant would not pass on. 
 
 "You are not afraid?" the voice continued. "Raise the 
 blind again, and you will see that no one need fear me." 
 
 At this request Jean's hands sought each other's company 
 behind her back. 
 
 "Wha are you?" she asked, without stirring. "Are you — 
 the woman ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Whaur's the minister?" 
 
 The rain again became wild, but this time it only tore 
 by the manse as if to a conflict beyond. 
 
 "Are you aye there ? I daurna let you in till I'm sure the 
 mistress is bedded. Gang round to the front, and see if 
 there's ony licht burning in the high west window." 
 
 "There was a light," the voice said, presently, "but it 
 was turned out as I looked." 
 
 "Then I'll let you in, and God kens I mean no wrang 
 by it." 
 
 Babbie entered shivering, and Jean rebarred the door. 
 Then she looked long at the woman whom her master loved.
 
 216 THE LITTLE INIINISTER 
 
 Babbie was on her knees at the hearth, holding out her 
 hands to the dead fire. 
 
 "What a pity it's a fause face." 
 
 "Do I look so false?" 
 
 "Is it true? You're no married to him?" 
 
 "Yes, it is true." 
 
 "And yet you look as if you was fond o' him. If you 
 cared for him, how could you do it?" 
 
 "That was why I did it." 
 
 "And him could hae had wha he liked." 
 
 "I gave up Lord Rintoul for him." 
 
 "What? Na, na; you're the Egyptian." 
 
 "You judge me by my dress." 
 
 "And soaking it is. How you're shivering, — what neat 
 fingers, — what bonny little feet. I could near believe what 
 you tell me. Aff wi' these rags, an' I'll gie you on my 
 black frock, if — if you promise me no to gang awa wi't." 
 
 So Babbie put on some clothes of Jean's, including the 
 black frock, and stockings and shoes. 
 
 "Mr. Dishart cannot be back, Jean," she said, "before 
 morning, and I don't want his mother to see me till he 
 comes." 
 
 "I wouldna let you near her the nicht though you gaed 
 on your knees to me. But whaur is he ?" 
 
 Babbie explained why Gavin had set off for the Spittal; 
 but Jean shook her head incredulously, saying, "I canna 
 believe you're that grand leddy, and yet ilka time I look 
 at you I could near believe it." 
 
 In another minute Jean had something else to think of, 
 for there came a loud rap upon the front door. 
 
 "It's Tammas Whamond back again," she moaned; "and 
 if t'he mistress hears, she'll tell me to let him in." 
 
 "You shall open to me," cried a hoarse voice. 
 
 "That's no Tammas's word," Jean said, in bewilderment. 
 
 "It is Lord Rintoul," Babbie whispered. 
 
 "What? Then it's truth you telled me." 
 
 The knocking continued; a door up-stairs opened, and 
 Margaret spoke over the banisters. 
 
 "Have you gone to bed, Jean? Some one is knocking 
 at the door, and a minute ago I thought I heard a car- 
 riage stop close by. Perhaps the farmer has driven Mr. 
 Dishart home." 
 
 "I'm putting on my things, ma'am," Jean answered; then 
 whispered to Babbie, "What's to be done?""
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 217 
 
 "He won't go away," Babbie answered. "You will have 
 to let him into the parlour, Jean. Can she see the door 
 from up there ?" 
 
 "No; but though he was in the parlour?" 
 
 "I shall go to him there." 
 
 "Make haste, Jean," Margaret called. "If it is any 
 persons wanting shelter, we must give it them on such a 
 night." 
 
 "A minute, ma'am," Jean answered. To Babbie, she whis- 
 pered, "What shall I say to her?" 
 
 "I — I don't know," answered Babbie, ruefully. "Think of 
 something, Jean. But open the door now. Stop, let me into 
 the parlour first." 
 
 The two women stole into the parlour. 
 
 "Tell me what will be the result o' his coming here," 
 entreated Jean. 
 
 "The result," Babbie said, firmly, "will be that he shall 
 go away and leave me here." 
 
 Margaret heard Jean open the front door and speak to 
 some person or persons whom she showed into the parlour. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 RINTOUL AND BABBIE BREAKDOWN OF THE DEFENCE OF 
 
 THE MANSE. 
 
 "You dare to look me in the face !" 
 
 They were Rintoul's words. Yet Babbie had only ven- 
 tured to look up because he was so long in speaking. His 
 voice was low, but harsh, like a wheel on which the brake 
 is pressed sharply. 
 
 "It seems to be more than the man is capable of," he 
 added, sourly. 
 
 "Do you think," Babbie exclaimed, taking fire, "that he 
 is afraid of you?" 
 
 "So it seems ; but I will drag him into the light, wherever 
 he is skulking." 
 
 Lord Rintoul strode to the door, and the brake was off 
 his tongue already. 
 
 "Go," said Babbie, coldly, "and shout and stamp through 
 the house; you may succeed in frightening the women, who 
 are the only persons in it."
 
 218 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 "He has gone to the Spittal to see you." 
 
 "He knew I was on the hill." 
 
 "He lost me in the darkness, and thought you had run 
 away with me in your trap." 
 
 "Ha! So he is off to the Spittal to ask me to give you 
 back to him." 
 
 "To compel you," corrected Babbie. 
 
 "Pooh !" said the earl, nervously, "that was but mummery 
 on the hill." 
 
 "It was a marriage." 
 
 "With gypsies for witnesses. Their word would count 
 for less than nothing. Babbie, I am still in time to save 
 you." 
 
 "I don't want to be saved. The marriage had witnesses 
 no court could discredit." 
 
 "What witnesses?" 
 
 "Mr. McKenzie and yourself." 
 
 She heard his teeth meet. When next she looked at him, 
 there were tears in his eyes as well as in her own. It was 
 perhaps the first time these two had ever been in close 
 sympathy. Both were grieving for Rintoul. 
 
 "I am so sorry," Babbie began in a broken voice; then 
 stopped, because they seemed such feeble words. 
 
 "If you are sorry," the earl answered, eagerly, "it is 
 not yet too late. McKenzie and I saw nothing. Come away 
 with me. Babbie, if only in pity for yourself." 
 
 "Ah, but I don't pity myself." 
 
 "Because this man has blinded you." 
 
 "No, he has made me see." 
 
 "This mummery on the hill — " 
 
 "Why do you call it so? I believe God approved of that 
 marriage, as he could never have countenanced yours and 
 mine." 
 
 "God ! I never heard the word on your lips before." 
 
 "I know that." 
 
 "It is his teaching, doubtless?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And he told you that to do to me as you have done was 
 to be pleasing in God's sight?" 
 
 "No; he knows that it was so evil in God's sight that 
 I shall suffer for it always." 
 
 "But he has done no wrong, so there is no punishment 
 for him?"
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 219 
 
 "It is true that he has done no wrong, but his punishment 
 will be worse, probably, than mine." 
 
 "That," said the earl, scoffing, "is not just." 
 
 "It is just. He has accepted responsibility for my sins 
 by marrying me." 
 
 "And what form is his punishment to take?" 
 
 "For marrying me he will be driven from his church and 
 dishonoured in all men's eyes, unless — unless God is more 
 merciful to us than we can expect." 
 
 Her sincerity was so obvious that the earl could no longer 
 meet it with sarcasm, 
 
 "It is you I pity now," he said, looking wonderingly at 
 her. "Do you not see that this man has deceived you? 
 Where was his boasted purity in meeting you by stealth, as 
 he must have been doing, and plotting to take you from me ?" 
 
 "If you knew him," Babbie answered, "you would not 
 need to be told that he is incapable of that. He thought 
 me an ordinary gypsy until an hour ago." 
 
 "And you had so little regard for me that you waited until 
 the eve of what was to be our marriage, and then, laugh- 
 ing at my shame, ran off to marry him." 
 
 "I am not so bad as that," Babbie answered, and told him 
 what had brought her to Thrums. "I had no thought but 
 of returning to you, nor he of keeping me from you. We 
 had said good-bye at the mud house door, — and then wt 
 heard your voice." 
 
 "And my voice was so horrible to you that it drove you 
 to this?" 
 
 "I — I love him so much." 
 
 What more could Babbie answer? These words told him 
 that, if love commands, home, the friendships of a lifetime, 
 kindnesses incalculable, are at once as naught. Nothing is 
 so cruel as love if a rival challenges it to combat. 
 
 "Why could you not love me, Babbie?" said the earl, 
 sadly. "I have done so much for you." 
 
 It was little he had done for her that was not selfish. 
 Men are deceived curiously in such matters. When they 
 add a new wing to their house, they do not call the action 
 virtue ; but if they give to a fellow creature for their own 
 gratification, they demand of God a good mark for it. 
 Babbie, however, was in no mood to make light of the earl's 
 gifts, and at his question she shook her head sorrowfully. 
 
 "Is it because I am too — old?" 
 
 This was the only time he ever spoke of his age to her.
 
 220 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "Oh, no, it is not that," she rephed, hastily, "I love Mr. 
 Dishart, — because he loves me, I think." 
 
 "Have I not loved you always?" 
 
 "Never," Babbie answered, simply. "If you had, perhaps 
 then I should have loved you." 
 
 "Babbie," he exclaimed, "if ever man loved woman, and 
 showed it by the sacrifices he made for her, I — " 
 
 "No," Babbie said, "you don't understand what it is. Ah ! 
 I did not mean to hurt you." 
 
 "If I don't know what it is, what is it?" he asked, almost 
 humbly. "I scarcely know you now." 
 
 "That is it," said Babbie. 
 
 She gave him back his ring and then he broke down 
 pitifully. Doubtless there was good in him. But I saw 
 him only once ; and with nothing to contrast against it, I 
 may not now attempt to breathe life into the dust of his 
 senile passion. These were the last words that passed 
 between him and Babbie : 
 
 "There was nothing," he said, wistfully, "in this wide 
 world that you could not have had by asking me for it. Was 
 not that love?" 
 
 "No," she answered. "What right have I to everything 
 I cry for?" 
 
 "You should never have had a care had you married me. 
 That is love." 
 
 "It is not. I want to share my husband's cares, as I 
 expect him to share mine." 
 
 "I would have humoured you in everything." 
 
 "You always did: as if a woman's mind were for laugh- 
 ing at, like a baby's passions." 
 
 "You had your passions, too, Babbie. Yet did I ever 
 chide you for them? That was love." 
 
 "No, it was contempt. Oh," she cried, passionately, "what 
 have not you men to answer for who talk of love to a 
 women when her face is all you know of her; and her pas- 
 sions, her aspirations, are for kissing to sleep, her very 
 soul a plaything? I tell you. Lord Rintoul, and it is all 
 the message I send back to the gentlemen at the Spittal 
 who made love to me behind your back, that this is a poor 
 folly, and well calculated to rouse the wrath of God." 
 
 Now, Jean's ear had been to the parlour keyhole for a 
 time, but some message she had to take to Margaret, and 
 what she risked saying was this : 
 
 "It's Lord Rintoul and a party that has been catched in
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 221 
 
 the rain, and he would be obliged to you if you could gie 
 his bride shelter for the nicht." 
 
 Thus the distracted servant thought to keep Margaret's 
 mind at rest until Gavin came back. 
 
 "Lord Rintoul!" exclaimed Margaret. "What a pity Gavin 
 has missed him. Of course she can stay here. Did you say 
 I had gone to bed ? I should not know what to say to a 
 lord. But ask her to come up to me after he has gone, — 
 and, Jean, is the parlour looking tidy?" 
 
 Lord Rintoul having departed, Jean told Babbie how she 
 had accounted to Margaret for his visit. "And she telled 
 me to gie you dry claethes and her compliments, and would 
 you gang up to the bedroom and see her?" 
 
 Very slowly Babbie climbed the stairs. I suppose she is 
 the only person who was ever afraid of Margaret. Her 
 first knock on the bedroom door was so soft that Margaret, 
 who was sitting up in bed, did not hear it. When Babbie 
 entered the room, Margaret's first thought was that there 
 could be no other so beautiful as this, and her second was 
 that the stranger seemed even more timid than herself. After 
 a few minutes' talk she laid aside her primness, a weapon 
 she had drawn in self-defence lest this fine lady should 
 not understand the grandeur of a manse, and at a "Call me 
 Babbie, won't you?" she smiled. 
 
 "That is what some other person calls you,"^ said Mar- 
 garet, archly. "Do you know that he took twenty minutes 
 to say good-night ? My dear," she added, hastily, misin- 
 terpreting Babbie's silence, "I should have been sorry had 
 he taken one second less. Every tick of the clock was a 
 gossip, telling me how he loves you." 
 
 In the dim light a face that begged for pity was turned 
 to Margaret. 
 
 "He does love you. Babbie?" she asked, suddenly doubt- 
 ful. 
 
 Babbie turned away her face, then shook her head. 
 
 "But you love him?" 
 
 Again Babbie shook her head. 
 
 "Oh, my dear," cried Margaret, in distress, "if this 
 is so, are you not afraid to marry him?" 
 
 She knew now that Babbie was crying, but she did not 
 know why Babbie could not look her in the face. 
 
 "There may be times," Babbie said, most woful that she 
 had not married Rintoul, "when it is best to marry a man 
 thoueh we do not love him."
 
 222 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "You are wrong, Babbie," Margaret answered, gravely; 
 "if I know anything at all, it is that." 
 
 "It may be best for others." 
 
 "Do you mean for one other?" Margaret asked, and the 
 girl bowed her head. "Ah, Babbie, you speak like a child." 
 
 "You do not understand." 
 
 "I do not need to be told the circumstances to know 
 this, — that if two people love each other, neither has any 
 right to give the other up." 
 
 Babbie turned impulsively to cast herself on the mercy 
 of Gavin's mother, but no word could she say; a hot tear 
 fell from her eyes upon the coverlet, and then she looked 
 at the door, as if to run away. 
 
 "But I have been too inquisitive," Margaret began; where- 
 upon Babbie cried, "Oh, no, no, no; you are very good. 
 I have no one who cares whether I do right or wrong." 
 
 "Your parents — " 
 
 "I have had none since I was a child." 
 
 "It is the more reason why I should be your friend," 
 Margaret said, taking the girl's hand. 
 
 "You do not know what you are saying. You cannot be 
 my friend." 
 
 "Yes, dear, I love you already. You have a good face, 
 Babbie, as well as a beautiful one." 
 
 Babbie could remain in the room no longer. She bade 
 Margaret good-night, and bent forward to kiss her; then 
 drew back, like a Judas, ashamed. 
 
 "Why did you not kiss me ?" Margaret asked in surprise, 
 but poor Babbie walked out of the room without answering. 
 
 Of what occurred at the manse on the following day, 
 until I reached it, I need tell little more. When Babbie 
 was tending Sam'l Farquharson's child in the Tenements, 
 she learned of the flood in Glen Quharity, and that the 
 greater part of the congregation had set ofif to the assistance 
 of the farmers; but fearful as this made her for Gavin's 
 safety, she kept the new anxiety from his mother. De- 
 ceived by another story of Jean's, Margaret was the one 
 happy person in the house. 
 
 "I believe you had only a lover's quarrel with Lord Rintoul 
 last night," she said to Babbie in the afternoon. "Ah, 
 you see I can guess what is taking you to the window so 
 often. You must not think him long in coming for you. I 
 can assure you that the rain which keeps my son from me
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 223 
 
 must be sufficiently severe to separate even true lovers. 
 Take an old woman's example, Babbie. If I thought the 
 minister's absence alarming, I should be in anguish; but as 
 it is, my mind is so much at ease that, see, I can thread my 
 needle." 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 MARGARET, THE PRECENTOR, AND GOD BETWEEN. 
 
 Unless Andrew Luke, who went to Canada, be still above 
 ground, I am now the only survivor of the few to whom Lang 
 Tammas told what passed in the manse parlour after the door 
 closed on him and Margaret. With the years the others lost 
 the details, but before I forget them the man who has been 
 struck by lightning will look at his arm without remembering 
 what shrivelled it. 
 
 "She was never the kind o' woman," ^'^hamond said, "that 
 a body need be nane feared at. You can see she is o' the 
 timid sort. I couldna hae selected a woman easier to speak 
 bold out to, though I had ha'en my pick o' them. 
 
 "But, man, she was so michty windy o' him. If he had 
 wanted to put a knife into her, I believe that woman would 
 just hae telled him to take care no to cut his hands. Ay, and 
 what innocent-like she was ! If she had heard enough, afore 
 I saw her to make her uneasy, I could hae begun at once ; but 
 here she was, shaking my hand and smiling to me, so that aye 
 when I tried to speak I gaed through ither. Nobody can de- 
 spise me for it, I tell you, mair than I despise mysel'. 
 
 "I thocht to mysel', 'Let her hae her smile out, Tammas 
 Whamond; it's her hinmost.' Syne wi' shame at my coward- 
 liness, I tried to yoke to my duty as chief elder o' the kirk, 
 and I said to her, as thrawn as I could speak, 'Dinna thank 
 me ; I've done nothing for you." 
 
 " 'I ken it wasna for me you did it,' she said, 'but for him; 
 but, oh, Mr. Whamond, will that make me think the less o' 
 you? He's my all,' she says, wi' that smile back in her face, 
 and a look mixed up wi't that said as plain, 'and I need no 
 more.' I thocht o' saying that some builds their house upon 
 the sand, but — dagont, dominie, it's a solemn thing the pride 
 mithers has in their laddies. I mind aince my ain mither — 
 what the devil are you glowering at, Andrew Luke? Do you 
 think I'm greeting?
 
 224 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 " 'You'll sit down, Mr. Whamond/ she says next. 
 
 "No, I winna,' I said, angry-like. 'I didna come here to sit.' 
 
 "I could see she thocht I was shy at being in the manse 
 parlour; ay, and I thocht she was pleased at me looking shy. 
 Weel, she took my hat out o' my hand, and she put it on the 
 chair at the door, whaur there's aye an auld chair in grand 
 houses for the servant to sit on at family exercise. 
 
 " 'You're a man, Mr. Whamond/ says she, 'that the minister 
 delights to honour, and so you'll oblige me by sitting in his 
 own armchair.' 
 
 "I saw my chance at that," Whamond went on, "and I says 
 to her, sternly, 'In worldly position,' I says, 'I'm a common 
 man, and it's no for the like o' sic to sit in a minister's chair; 
 but it has been God's will/ I says, 'to wrap around me the 
 mantle o' chief elder o' the kirk, and if the minister falls awa 
 f rae grace, it becomes my duty to take his place.' 
 
 "If she had been looking at me, she maun hae grown feared 
 at that, and syne I could hae gone on though my ilka word 
 was a knock-down blow. But she was picking some things aff 
 the chair to let me down on't. 
 
 " 'It's a pair o' mittens I'm working for the minister,' she 
 says, and she handed them to me. Ay, I tried no to take them, 
 but — Oh, lads, it's queer to think how saft I was. 
 
 " 'He's no to ken about them till they're finished,' she says, 
 terrible fond-like. 
 
 "The words came to my mouth, 'They'll never be finished,' 
 and I could hae cursed mysel' for no saying them. I dinna 
 ken how it was, but there was something pitiful in seeing her 
 take up the mittens and begin working cheerily at one, and 
 me kenning all the time that they would never be finished. I 
 watched her fingers, and I said to mysel', 'Another stitch, and 
 that maun be your last.' 
 
 "In the tail o' the day I says, 'You needna bother; he'll 
 never wear them,' and they sounded sic words o' doom that I 
 rose up off the chair. Ay, but she took me up wrang, and she 
 said, 'I see you have noticed how careless o' his ain comforts 
 he is, and that in his zeal he forgets to put on his mittens, 
 though they may be in his pocket a' the time. Ay,' says she, 
 confident-like, 'but he winna forget these mittens, Mr. Wha- 
 mond, and I'll tell you the reason: it's because they're his 
 mother's work.' 
 
 "I stamped my foot, and she gae me an apologetic look, and 
 says, 'I canna help boasting about his being so fond o' me." 
 
 "Ay, but here was me saying to mysel', 'Do your duty.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 225 
 
 Tammas Whamond ; you sluggard, do your duty,' and witHout 
 lifting my een frae her fingers I said, sternly, 'Thie chances 
 are,' I said, 'that these mittens will never be worn by the 
 hands they are worked for.' 
 
 " 'You mean,' says she, 'that he'll gie them awa to some 
 ill-off body, as he gies near a' thing he has ? Ay, but there's 
 one thing he never parts wi', and that's my work. There's a 
 young lady in the manse the now,' says she, 'that offered to 
 finish the mittens for me, but he would value them less if I 
 let ony other body put a stitch into them.' 
 
 "I thocht to mysel', 'Tammas Whamond, the Lord has 
 opened a door to you, and you'll be disgraced for ever if you 
 dinna walk straucht in.' So I rose again, and I says, boldly, 
 this time, 'Whaur's that young leddy? I hae something to 
 say to her that canna be kept waiting.' 
 
 " 'She's up the stair,' she says, surprised, 'but you canna 
 ken her, Mr. Whamond, for she just came last nicht.' 
 
 " 'I ken mair o' her than you think,' says I ; 'I ken what 
 brocht her here, and ken wha she thinks she is to be mar- 
 ried to, and I've come to tell her that she'll never get him.' 
 
 '' 'How no ?' she said, amazed-like. 
 
 " 'Because,' said I, wi' my teeth thegither, 'he is already 
 married.' 
 
 "Lads, I stood waiting to see her fall, and when she 
 didna fall I just waited langer, thinking she was slow in 
 taking it a' in. 
 
 '' 'I see you ken wha she is,' she said, looking at me, 
 'and yet I canna credit your news.' 
 
 " 'They're true,' I cries. 
 
 " 'Even if they are,' says she, considering, 'it may be 
 the best thing that could happen to baith o' them.' 
 
 "I sank back in the chair in fair bewilderment, for I didna 
 ken at that time, as v/e a' ken now, that she was thinking 
 o' the earl when I was thinking o' her son. Dominie, it 
 looked to me as if the Lord had opened a door to me, and 
 syne shut it in my face. 
 
 "Syne wi' me sitting there in a kind o' awe o' the woman's 
 simpleness, she began to tell me what the minister was like 
 when he was a bairn, and I was saying a' the time to mysel', 
 'You're chief elder o' the kirk, Tammas Whamond, and you 
 maun speak out the next time she stops to draw breath.' 
 They were terrible sma', common things she telled me, sic 
 as near a' mithers minds about their bairns, but the kind o' 
 holy way she said them drove my words down my throat, like
 
 226 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 a 
 
 as if I was some infidel man trying to break out wi' blas- 
 phemy in a kirk. 
 
 " 'I'll let you see something,' says she, 'that I ken will 
 interest you.' She brocht it out o' a drawer, and what do 
 you think it was? As sure as death it was no more than 
 some o' his hair when he was a litlin, and it was tied up 
 sic carefully in paper that you would hae thocht it was some 
 valuable thing. 
 
 '"Mr. Whamond,' she says, solemnly, 'you've come thrice 
 to the manse to keep me frae being uneasy about my son's 
 absence, and you was the chief instrument under God in 
 bringing him to Thrums, and I'll gie you a little o' that hair.' 
 
 "Dagont, what did I care about his hair? and yet to see 
 her fondling it ! I says to mysel', 'Mrs. Dishart,' I says to 
 mysel', 'I was the chief instrument under God in bringing 
 him to Thrums, and I've come here to tell you that I'm to 
 be the chief instrument under God in driving him out o't.' 
 Ay, but when I focht to bring out these words, my mouth 
 snecked like a box. 
 
 " 'Dinna gie me his hair,' was a* I could say, and I 
 wouldna take it frae her ; but she laid it in my hand, and — ■ 
 and syne what could I do? Ay, it's easy to speak about thae 
 things now, and to wonder how I could hae so disgraced the 
 position o' chief elder o' the kirk, but I tell you I was near 
 greeting for the woman. Call me names, dominie; I deserve 
 them all." 
 
 I did not call Whamond names for being reluctant to break 
 Margaret's heart. Here is a confession I may make. Some- 
 times I say my prayers at night in a hurry, going on my 
 knees indeed, but with as little reverence as I take a drink 
 of water before jumping into bed, and for the same reason, 
 because it is my nightly habit. I am only pattering words 
 I have by heart to a chair then, and should be as well em- 
 ployed writing a comic Bible. At such times I pray for the 
 earthly well-being of the precentor, though he has been dead 
 for many years. 
 
 "She said to me," Whamond continued, "that the women 
 o' the congregation would be fond to handle the hair. Could 
 I tell her that the women was waur agin him than the men? 
 I shivered to hear her. 
 
 " '.Syne when they're a' sitting breathless listening to his 
 preaching,' she says, 'they'll be able to picture him as a bairn, 
 just as I often do in the kirk mysel'.' 
 
 "Andrew Luke, you're sneering at me, but I tell you if
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 22T 
 
 you had been there and had begun to say, 'He'll preach in 
 our kirk no more/ I would hae struck you. 
 
 "She says, 'Oh, Mr. Whamond, there's times in the kirk 
 when he is praying, and the glow on his face is hardly 
 mortal, so that I fall a-shaking, wi' a mixture o' fear and 
 pride, me being his mother ; and sinful though I am to say it, 
 I canna help thinking at sic times that I ken what the mother 
 o' Jesus had in her heart when she found Him in the temple.' 
 
 "Dominie, it's sax and twenty years since I was made an 
 elder o' the kirk. I mind the day as if it was yestreen. Mr. 
 Carfrae made me walk hame wi' him, and he took me into 
 the manse parlour, and he set me in that very chair. It was 
 the first time I was ever in the manse. Ay, he little thocht 
 that day in his earnestness, and I little thocht mysel' in the 
 pride o' my lusty youth, that the time was coming when I 
 would swear in that reverenced parlour. I say swear, domi- 
 nie, for when she had finished I jumped to my feet, and I 
 cried, 'Hell !' and I lifted up my hat. And I was chief elder. 
 
 "She fell back frae my oath," he said, "and syne she took 
 my sleeve and speired, 'What has come ower you, Mr. Wha- 
 mond? Hae you onything on your mind?' 
 
 " 'I've sin on it,' I roared at her. 'I have neglect o' duty 
 on it. I am one o' them that cries "Lord, Lord," and yet 
 do not the things which He commands. He has pointed 
 out the way to me, and I hinna followed it.' 
 
 "'What is it you hinna done that you should hae done?' 
 she said. 'Oh, Mr. Whamond, if you want my help, it's yours.' 
 
 " 'Your son's a' the earth to you,' I cried, 'but my elder- 
 ship's as muckle to me. Sax and twenty years hae I been 
 an elder, and now I maun gie it up.' 
 
 " 'Wha says that ?' she speirs. 
 
 " 'I say it,' I cried. 'I've shirked my duty. I gie up 
 my eldership now. Tammas Whamond is no langer an elder 
 o' the kirk;' ay, and I was chief elder. 
 
 "Dominie, I think she began to say that when the minister 
 came hame he wouldna accept my resignation, but I paid 
 no need to her. You ken what ■s^as the sound that keeped 
 my ears frae her words; it was the sound o' a machine 
 coming yont the Tenements. You ken v/hat was the sicht 
 that made me glare through the window instead o' looking 
 at her; it was the sicht o' Mr. Dishart in the machine. I 
 couldna speak, but I got my body atween her and the window, 
 for I heard shouting, and I couldna doubt that it was the folk 
 tursing him.
 
 228 THE LITTLE INHNISTER 
 
 "But she heard too, she heard too, and she squeezed by 
 me to the window. I couldna look out; I just walked saft- 
 like to the parlour door, but afore I reached it she cried: 
 
 " ^t's my son come back, and see how fond o' him they 
 are ! They are running at the side o' the machine, and the 
 laddies are tossing their bonnets in the air.' 
 
 " 'God help you, woman !' I said to mysel', 'it canna be 
 bonnets, — it's stanes and divits mair likely that they're fling- 
 ing at him.' Syne I creeped out o' the manse. Dominie, you 
 mind I passed you in the kitchen, and didna say a word ?" 
 
 Yes, i saw the precentor pass through the kitchen, with 
 such a face on him as no man ever saw him wear again. 
 Since Tammas Whamond died we have had to enlarge the 
 Thrums cemetery twice; so it can matter not at all to him. 
 and but little to me, what you who read think of him. All 
 his life children ran from him. He was the dourest, the 
 most unlovable man in Thrums. But may my right hand 
 wither, and may my tongue be cancer-bitten, and may my 
 mind be gone into a dry rot before I forget what he did 
 for me and mine that day ! 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 RAIN MIST THE JAWS. 
 
 To this day we argue in the glen about the sound mis- 
 taken by many of us for the firing of the Spittal cannon, 
 some calling it thunder and others the tearing of trees 
 in the torrent. I think it must have been the roll of stones 
 into the Ouharity from Silver Hill, of which a corner has 
 been missing since that day. Silver Hill is all stones, 
 as if creation had been riddled there, and in the sun the 
 mica on them shines like many pools of water. 
 
 At the roar, as they thought, of the cannon, the farmers 
 looked up from their struggle with the flood to say, "That's 
 Rintoul married," as clocks pause simultaneously to strike 
 the hour. Then every one in the Glen save Gavin and 
 myself was done with Rintoul. Before the hills had answered 
 the noise, Gavin was on his way to the Spittal. The dog 
 must have been ten minutes in overtaking him, yet he main- 
 tained afterward that it was with him from the start. 
 From this we see that the shock he had got carried him
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 229 
 
 some distance before he knew that he had left the school- 
 house. It also gave him a new strength, that happily lasted 
 longer than his daze of mind. 
 
 Gavin moved northward quicker than I came south, climb- 
 ing over or wading through his obstacles, while I went 
 round mine. After a time, too, the dog proved useful, 
 for on discovering that it was going homeward it took the 
 lead, and several times drew him to the right road to the 
 Spittal by refusing to accompany him on the wrong road. 
 Yet in two hours he had walked perhaps nine miles with- 
 out being four miles nearer the Spittal. In that flood the 
 glen milestones were three miles apart. 
 
 For some time he had been following the dog doubtfully, 
 for it seemed to be going too near the river. When they 
 struck a cart-track, however, he concluded rightly that they 
 were nearing a bridge. His faith in his guide was again 
 tested before they had been many minutes on this sloppy 
 road. The dog stopped, whined, looked irresolute, and then 
 ran to the right, disappearing into the mist in an instant. 
 He shouted to it to come back, and was surprised to hear a 
 whistle in reply. This was sufficient to make him dash 
 after the dog, and in less than a minute he stopped abruptly 
 by the side of a shepherd. 
 
 "Have you brocht it?" the man cried, almost into Gavin's 
 ear; yet the roar of the water was so tremendous that 
 the words came faintly, as if from a distance. "Wae is me; 
 is it only you, Mr. Dishart?" 
 
 "Is it only you !" No one in the glen would have ad- 
 dressed a minister thus except in a matter of life or death, 
 and Gavin knew it. 
 
 "He'll be ower late," the shepherd exclaimed, rubbing his 
 hands together in distress. "I'm speaking o' Whinbusses' 
 grieve. He has run for ropes, but he'll be ower late." 
 
 "Is there some one in danger?" asked Gavin, who stood, 
 he knew not where, with this man, enveloped in mist. 
 
 "Is there no? Look!" 
 
 "There is nothing to be seen but mist; where are we?" 
 
 "We're on the high bank o' the Quharity. Take care, 
 man; you was stepping ower into the roaring water. Lie 
 down and tell me if he's there yet. Maybe I just think 
 that I see him, for the sicht is painted on my een." 
 
 Gavin lay prone and peered at the river, but the mist 
 came up to his eyes. He only knew that the river was 
 below from the sound.
 
 230 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "Is there a man down there?" he asked, shuddering. 
 
 "There was a minute syne; on a bit island." 
 
 "Why does he not speak?" 
 
 "He is senseless. Dinna move; the mist's clearing, and 
 you'll see if he's there syne. The mist has been lifting and 
 falling that way ilka minute since me and the grieve saw 
 him." 
 
 The mist did not rise. It only shook like a blanket, and 
 then again remained stationary. But in that movement 
 Gavin had seen twice, first incredulously, and then with 
 conviction. 
 
 "Shepherd," he said, rising, "it is Lord Rintoul." 
 
 "Ay, it's him; and you saw his feet was in the water. 
 They were dry when the grieve left me. Mr. Dishart, the 
 ground he is on is being washed awa bit by bit. I tell you, 
 the flood's greedy for him, and it'll hae him — Look, did 
 you see him again?" 
 
 "Is he living?" 
 
 "We saw him move. Hst! Was that a cry?" 
 
 It was only the howling of the dog, which had recognised 
 its master, and was peering over the bank, the body quiver- 
 ing to jump, but the legs restless with indecision. 
 
 "If we were down there," Gavin said, "we could hold 
 him secure till rescue comes. It is no great jump." 
 
 "How far would you make it? I saw him again!" 
 
 "It looked farther that time." 
 
 "That's it ! Sometimes the ground he is on looks so near 
 that you think you could almost drop on it, and the next 
 time it's yards and yards awa. I've stood ready for the 
 spring, Mr. Dishart, a dozen times, but I aye sickened. I 
 daurna do it. Look at the dog; just when it's starting to 
 jump, it pulls itsel' back." 
 
 As if it had heard the shepherd, the dog jumped at that 
 instant. 
 
 "It sprang too far," Gavin said. 
 
 "It didna spring far enough." 
 
 They waited, and presently the mist thinned for a mo- 
 ment, as if it was being drawn out. They saw the earl, 
 but there was no dog. 
 
 "Poor brute," said the shepherd, and looked with awe at 
 Gavin. 
 
 "Rintoul is slipping into the water," Gavin answered. "You 
 won't jump?" 
 
 "No, I'm wae for him, and — "
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 231 
 
 "Then I will," Gavin was about to say, but the shepherd 
 continued, "And him only married twa hours syne." 
 
 That kept the words in Gavin's mouth for half a minute, 
 and then he spoke them. 
 
 "Dinna think o't," cried the shepherd, taking him by the 
 coat. "The ground he is on is slippery. I've flung a dozen 
 stanes at it, and them that hit it slithered off. Though you 
 landed in the middle o't, you would slide into the water." 
 
 "He shook himsel' free o' me," the shepherd told after- 
 ward, "and I saw him bending down and measuring the 
 distance wi' his een as cool as if he was calculating a drill 
 o' tatties. Syne I saw his lips moving in prayer. It wasna 
 spunk he needed to pray for, though. Next minute there 
 was me, my very arms prigging wi' him to think better o't, 
 and him standing ready to loup, his knees bent, and not a 
 tremble in them. The mist lifted, and I — Lads, I couldna 
 gie a look to the earl. Mr. Dishart jumped; I hardly saw 
 him, but I kent. I kent, for I was on the bank alane. 
 What did I do? I flung mysel' down in a sweat, and if 
 een could bore mist, mine would hae done it. I thocht I 
 heard the minister's death-cry, and may I be struck if I 
 iinna believe now that it was a skirl o' my ain. After 
 that there was no sound but the jaw o' the water; and I 
 prayed, but no to God, to the mist to rise, and after an 
 awful time it rose, and I saw the minister was safe ; he 
 had pulled the earl into the middle o' the bit island, and 
 was rubbing him back to consciousness. I sweat when I 
 ijiink o't yet. 
 
 "Though it seemed as lang time," the shepherd says, "as 
 I could hae run up a hill in, I dinna suppose it was many 
 minutes afore I saw Rintoul opening and shutting his een. 
 The next glint I had o' them they were speaking to ane 
 another; ay, and mair than speaking. They were quarrelling. 
 I couldna hear their words, but there was a moment when I 
 thocht they were to grapple. Lads, the memory o' that'll 
 hing about my death-bed. There was twa men, edicated to 
 the highest pitch, ane a lord and the other a minister, and 
 the flood was taking awa a mouthful o' their footing ilka 
 minute, and the jaws o' destruction was gaping for them, 
 and yet they were near fechting. We ken now it was 
 about a woman. Ay, but does that make it less awful?" 
 
 No, that did not make it less awful. It was even awful 
 that Gavin's first words when Rintoul opened his eyes and 
 closed them hastily were, "Where is she?" The earl did
 
 232 THE LITTLE ^MINISTER 
 
 not answer; indeed, for the moment the words had no mean- 
 ing to him. 
 
 "How did I come here?" he asked, feebly. 
 
 "You should know better than I. Where is my wife?" 
 
 "I remember now," Rintoul repeated several times. "Yes, 
 I had left the Spittal to look for you, — you were so long in 
 coming. How did I find you ?" 
 
 "It was I who found you," Gavin answered. "You must 
 have been swept away by the flood." 
 
 "And you, too?" 
 
 In a few words Gavin told how he came to be beside the 
 earl. 
 
 "I suppose they will say you have saved my life," was 
 Rintoul's commentary. 
 
 "It is not saved yet. If help does not come, we shall 
 be dead men in an hour. What have you done with my 
 wife ?" 
 
 Rintoul ceased to listen to him, and shouted sums of 
 money to the shepherd, who shook his head and bawled an 
 answer that neither Gavin nor the earl heard. Across that 
 thundering water only Gavin's voice could carry, the most 
 powerful ever heard in a Thrums pulpit, the one voice that 
 could be heard all over the Commonty during the time of the 
 tent-preaching. Yet he never roared, as some preachers do 
 of whom we say, "Ah, if they could hear the little minister's 
 word !" 
 
 Gavin caught the gesticulating earl by the sleeve and said, 
 "Another man has gone for ropes. Now, listen to me ; 
 how dared you go through a marriage ceremony with her, 
 knowing her already to be my wife?" 
 
 Rintoul did listen this time. 
 
 "How do you know I married her?" he asked, sharply. 
 
 "I heard the cannon." 
 
 Now the earl understood, and the shadow on his face 
 shook and lifted, and his teeth gleamed. His triumph might 
 be short-lived, but he would enjoy it while he could. 
 
 "Well," he answered, picking the pebbles for his sling 
 with care, "you must know that I could not have married her 
 against her will. The frolic on the hill amused her, but she 
 feared you might think it serious, and so pressed me to 
 proceed with her marriage to-day despite the flood." 
 
 This was the point at which the shepherd saw the minister 
 raise his fist. It fell, however, without striking. 
 
 "Do you really think that I could doubt her?" Gavin said.
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 233 
 
 compassionately, and for the second time in twenty-four 
 hours the earl learned that he did not know what love is. 
 
 For a full minute they had forgotten where they were. 
 Now, again, the water seemed to break loose, so that both 
 remembered their danger simultaneously and looked up. The 
 mist parted for long enough to show them that where had 
 only been the shepherd was now a crowd of men, with here 
 and there a woman. Before the mist again came between 
 the minister had recognised many members of his con- 
 gregation. 
 
 In his unsuccessful attempt to reach Whinbusses, the 
 grieve had met the relief party from Thrums. Already the 
 weavers had helped Waster Lunny to stave off ruin, and 
 they were now on their way to Whinbusses, keeping to- 
 gether through fear of mist and water. Every few minutes 
 Snecky Hobart rang his bell to bring in stragglers. 
 
 "Follow me," was all the panting grieve could say at first, 
 but his agitation told half his story. They went with him 
 patiently, only stopping once, and then excitedly, for they 
 came suddenly on Rob Dow. Rob was still lying a prisoner 
 beneath the tree, and the grieve now remembered that he 
 had fallen over this tree, and neither noticed the man under 
 it nor been noticed by the man. Fifty hands released poor 
 Dow, and two men were commissioned to bring him along 
 slowly while the others hurried to the rescue of the earl. 
 They were amazed to learn from the shepherd that Mr. 
 Dishart also was in danger, and after "Is there a woman wi' 
 him ?" some cried, "He'll get off cheap wi' drowning," and 
 "It's the judgment o' God." 
 
 The island on which the two men stood was now little 
 bigger than the round tables common in Thrums, and its 
 centre was some feet farther from the bank than when 
 Gavin jumped. A woman, looking down at it, sickened, and 
 would have toppled into the water, had not John Spens 
 clutched her. Others were so stricken with awe that they 
 forgot they had hands. 
 
 Peter Tosh, the elder, cast a rope many times, but it 
 would not carry. The one end was then weighted with a 
 heavy stone, and the other tied round the waists of two 
 men. But the force of the river had been underestimated. 
 The stone fell short into the torrent, which rushed off 
 with it so furiously that the men were flung upon their faces 
 and trailed to the verge of the precipice. A score of per-
 
 234 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 — — »^^«^^^i— ^^-i^^— — — — — ^™^— ^i— — — — ■"^^— ^^^^i— ^— — ^— iw 
 
 sons sprang to their rescue, and the rope snapped. There 
 was only one other rope, and its fate was not dissimilar. 
 This time the stone fell into the water beyond the island, 
 and immediately rushed down the stream. Gavin seized the 
 rope, but it pressed against his body, and would have pushed 
 him off his feet had not Tosh cut it. The trunk of the 
 tree that had fallen on Rob Dow was next dragged to the 
 bank and an endeavour made to form a sloping bridge 
 of it. The island, however, was now soft and unstable, and, 
 though the trunk was successfully lowered, it only knocked 
 lumps off the island, and finally it had to be let go, as 
 the weavers could not pull it back. It splashed into the 
 water, and was at once whirled out of sight. Some of the 
 oarty on the bank began hastily to improvise a rope of cravats 
 and the tags of the ropes still left, but the mass stood help- 
 less and hopeless. 
 
 "You may v\^onder that we could have stood still, waiting 
 io see the last o' them," Birse, the post, has said to me in 
 ihe schoolhouse, "but, dominie, I couldna hae moved, magre 
 my neck. I'm a hale man, but if this minute we was to 
 hear the voice o' the Almighty saying solemnly, 'Afore the 
 clock strikes again, Birse, the post, will fall dov^^n dead 
 of heart disease,' what do you think you would do? I'll 
 tell you. You would stand whaur you are, and stare, tongue- 
 tied, at me till I dropped. How do I ken? By the teach- 
 ing o' that nicht. Ay, but there's a mair important thing 
 I dinna ken, and that is whether I would be palsied wi' 
 fear like the earl, or face death with the calmness o' the 
 minister." 
 
 Indeed, the contrast between Rintoul and Gavin was now 
 impressive. When Tosh signed that the weavers had done 
 their all and failed, the two men looked in each other's 
 faces, and Gavin's face was firm and the earl's working con- 
 vulsively. The people had given up attempting to com- 
 municate with Gavin save by signs, for though they heard 
 his sonorous voice, when he pitched it at them, they saw 
 that he caught few word^ of theirs. "He heard our skirls," 
 Birse said, "but couldna grip the words ony mair than 
 we could hear the earl. And yet we screamed, and the 
 minister didna. I've heard o' Highlandmen wi' the same 
 gift, so that they could be heard across a glen." 
 
 "We must prepare for death," Gavin said, solemnly, to the 
 earl, "and it is for your own sake that I again ask you to 
 tell me the truth. Worldly matters are nothing to either
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 235 
 
 of us now, but I implore you not to carry a lie into your 
 Maker's presence." 
 
 "I will not give up hope," was all Rintoul's answer, and 
 he again tried to pierce the mist with offers of reward. After 
 that he became doggedly silent, fixing his eyes on the ground 
 at his feet. I have a notion that he had made up his mind 
 to confess the truth about Babbie when the water had eaten 
 the island as far as the point at which he was now looking. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 END OF THE TWENTY-FOUR HOURS. 
 
 Out of the mist came the voice of Gavin, clear and strong : 
 
 "If you hear me, hold up your hands as a sign." 
 
 They heard, and none wondered at his voice crossing the 
 chasm while theirs could not. When the mist cleared, they 
 were seen to have done as he bade them. Many hands 
 remained up for a time because the people did not remember 
 to bring them down, so great was the awe that had fallen 
 on all, as if the Lord was near. 
 
 Gavin took his watch from his pocket, and he said : 
 
 "I am to fling this to you. You will give it to Mr. Ogilvy, 
 the schoolmaster, as a token of the love I bear him." 
 
 The watch was caught by James Langlands, and handed 
 to Peter Tosh, the chief elder present. 
 
 "To Mr. Ogilvy," Gavin continued, "you will also give 
 the chain. You will take it off my neck when you find the 
 body. 
 
 "To each of my elders, and to Hendry Munn, kirk officer, 
 and to my servant Jean, I leave a book, and they will go 
 to my study and choose it for themselves. 
 
 "I also leave a book for Nanny Webster, and I charge 
 you, Peter Tosh, to take it to her, though she be not a 
 member of my church. 
 
 "The pictorial Bible with 'To my son on his sixth birth- 
 day' on it, I bequeath to Rob Dow. No, my mother will 
 want to keep that. I give to Rob Dow my Bible with the 
 brass clasp. 
 
 "It is my wish that every family in the congregation should 
 have some little thing to remember me by. This you will 
 tell my mother.
 
 236 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "To my successor I leave whatsoever of my papers he 
 may think of any value to him, including all my notes on 
 Revelation, of which I meant to make a book. I hope he 
 will never sing the paraphrases. 
 
 "If Mr. Carfrae's health permits, you will ask him to 
 preach the funeral sermon; but if he be too frail, then you 
 will ask Mr. Trail, under whom I sat in Glasgow. The 
 illustrated 'Pilgrim's Progress' on the drawers in my bed- 
 room belongs to Mr. Trail, and you will return it to him 
 with my affection and compliments. 
 
 "I owe five shillings to Hendry Munn for mending my 
 boots, and a smaller sum to Baxter, the mason. I have 
 two pounds belonging to Rob Dow, who asked me to take 
 charge of them for him. I owe no other man anything, 
 and this you will bear in mind if Matthew Cargill, the 
 flying stationer, again brings forward a claim for the 
 price of Whiston's 'Josephus,' which I did not buy from 
 him. 
 
 "Mr. Moncur, of Aberbrothick, had agreed to assist me 
 at the Sacrament, and will doubtless still lend his services. 
 Mr. Carfrae or Mr. Trail will take my place if my suc- 
 cessor is not elected by that time. The Sacrament cups 
 are in the vestry press, of which you will find the key 
 beneath the clock in my parlour. The tokens are in the 
 topmost drawer of my bedroom. 
 
 "The weekly prayer-meeting will be held as usual on 
 Thursday at eight o'clock, and the elders will officiate. 
 
 "It is my wish that the news of my death be broken to 
 my mother by Mr. Ogilvy, the schoolmaster, and by no 
 other. You will say to him that this is my solemn request, 
 and that I bid him discharge it without faltering and be 
 of good cheer. 
 
 "But if Mr. Ogilvy be not now alive, the news of my 
 death will be broken to my mother by my beloved wife. 
 Last night I was married on the hill, over the tongs, but 
 with the sanction of God, to her whom you call the Egyptian, 
 and despite what has happened since then, of which you 
 will soon have knowledge, I here solemnly declare that she 
 is my wife, and you will seek for her at the Spittal or 
 elsewhere till you find her, and you will tell her to go to 
 my mother and remain with her always, for these are the 
 commands of her husband." 
 
 It was then that Gavin paused, for Lord Rintoul had that 
 to say to him which no longer could be kept back. All
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 237 
 
 the women were crying sore, and also some men whose eyes 
 had been dry at the coffining of their children. 
 
 "Now I ken," said Cruickshanks, who had been an atheist, 
 "that it's only the fool wha says in his heart, 'There is no 
 God.' " 
 
 Another said, "That's a man." 
 
 Another said, "That man has a religion to last him all 
 through." 
 
 A fourth said, "Behold, the Kingdom of Heaven is at 
 hand." 
 
 A fifth said, "That's our minister. He's the minister o' 
 the Auld Licht kirk o' Thrums. Woe is me, we're to lose 
 him." 
 
 Many cried, "Our hearts was set hard against him. O 
 Lord, are You angry wi' Your servants that You're taking 
 him frae us just when we ken what he is?" 
 
 Gavin did not hear them, and again he spoke : 
 
 "My brethren, God is good. I have just learned that 
 my wife is with my dear mother at the manse. I leave them 
 in your care and in His." 
 
 No more he said of Babbie, for the island was become very 
 small. 
 
 "The Lord calls me hence. It is only for a little time I 
 have been with you, and now I am going away, and you 
 will know me no more. Too great has been my pride because 
 I was your minister, but He who sent me to labour among 
 you is slow to v/rath; and He ever bore in mind that you 
 were my first charge. My people, I must say to you, 
 'Farewell.'" 
 
 Then, for the first time, his voice faltered, and wanting 
 to go on he could not. "Let us read," he said, quickly, "in 
 the Word of God in the fourteenth of Matthew, from the 
 twenty-eighth verse." 
 
 He repeated these four verses : 
 
 " 'And Peter answered Him and said, Lord, if it be 
 Thou, bid me come unto Thee on the water. 
 
 " 'And He said, Come. And when Peter was come down 
 out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to Jesus. 
 
 " 'But when he saAv the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and 
 beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me. 
 
 " 'And immediately Jesus stretched forth His hand and 
 caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, where- 
 fore didst thou doubt ?' " 
 
 After this Gavin's voice was again steady, and he said.
 
 238 TPIE LITTLE IVIINISTER 
 
 "The sand-glass is almost run out. Dearly beloved, with 
 what words shall I bid you good-bye ?" 
 
 Many thought that these were to be the words, for the 
 mist parted, and they saw the island tremble and half of 
 it sink. 
 
 "My people," said the voice behind the mist, "this is the 
 text I leave with you : 'Lay not up for yourselves treasures 
 upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt,, and where 
 thieves break through and steal; but lay up for your- 
 selves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust 
 doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor 
 steal.' That text I read in the flood, where the hand of 
 God has written it. All the pound notes in the world would 
 not dam this torrent for a moment, so that we might pass 
 over to you safely. Yet it is but a trickle of water, soon 
 to be dried up. Verily, I say unto you, only a few hours 
 ago the treasures of earth stood between you and this earl, 
 and what are they now compared to this trickle of water? 
 God only can turn rivers into a wilderness, and the water- 
 springs into dry ground. Let His Word be a lamp unto 
 your feet and a light unto your path ; may He be your 
 refuge and your strength. Amen." 
 
 This amen he said quickly, thinking death was now come. 
 He was seen to raise his hands, but whether to Heaven or 
 involuntarily to protect his face as he fell none was sure, 
 for the mist again filled the chasm. Then came a clap of 
 stillness. No one breathed. 
 
 But the two men were not yet gone, and Gavin spoke once 
 more. 
 
 "Let us sing in the twenty-third Psalm." 
 
 He himself raised the tune, and so long as they heard his 
 voice they sang : 
 
 'The Lord's my shepherd, I'll not want; 
 
 He makes me down to lie 
 In pastures green ; He leadeth me 
 
 The quiet waters by. 
 
 "My soul He doth restore again ; 
 
 And me to walk doth make 
 Within the paths of righteousness 
 
 Ev'n for His own name's sake. 
 
 "Yea, though I walk in Death's dark vale, 
 
 Yet will I fear none ill ; 
 For Thou art with me ; and Thy rnfJ 
 
 And staff — "
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 239 
 
 But some had lost the power to sing in the first verse, and 
 others at "Death's dark vale," and when one man found 
 himself singing alone he stopped abruptly. This was be- 
 cause they no longer heard the minister. 
 
 "O Lord!" Peter Tosh cried, "lift the mist, for it's mair 
 than we can bear." 
 
 The mist rose slowly, and those who had courage to 
 look saw Gavin praying with the earl. Many could not 
 look, and some of them did not even see Rob Dow jump. 
 
 For it was Dow, the man with the crushed leg, who saved 
 Gavin's life, and flung away his own for it. Suddenly he 
 was seen on the edge of the bank, holding one end of the 
 improvised rope in his hand. As Tosh says : 
 
 "It all happened in the opening and shutting o' an eye. 
 It's a queer thing to say, but though I prayed to God to 
 take awa the mist, when He did raise it I couldna look. I 
 shut my een tight, and held my arm afore my face, like ane 
 feared o' being struck. Even when I daured to look, mv 
 arm was shaking so that I could see Rob both above it 
 and below it. He was on the edge, crouching to leap. I 
 didna see wha had baud o' the other end o' the rope. I 
 heard the minister cry, 'N'o, Dow, no !* and it gae through 
 me as quick as a stab that if Rob jumped he would knock 
 them both into the water. But he did jump, and you ken how 
 it was that he didna knock them off." 
 
 It was because he had no thought of saving his own life. 
 He jumped, not at the island, now little bigger than the seat 
 of a chair, but at the edge of it, into the foam, and with his 
 arm outstretched. For a second the hand holding the rope 
 was on the dot of land. Gavin tried to seize the hand; 
 Rintoul clutched the rope. The earl and the minister were 
 dragged together into safety, and both left the water sense- 
 less. Gavin was never again able to lift his left hand 
 higher than his head. Dow's body was found next day 
 near the schoolhouse. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 TALK OF A LITTLE MAID SINCE GROWN TALL. 
 
 My scholars have a game they call "The Little Minister," 
 in which the boys allow the girls as a treat to join. Some 
 of the characters in the real drama are omitted as of no
 
 240 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 >^i— «i«^^^<— ^^^^— ^^— ^~^^— — — — — ^— — — ^-^— i^"— ^^i— * 
 
 importance, — the dominie, for instance, — and the two best 
 fighters insist on being Dow and Gavin. I notice that the 
 game is finished when Dow dives from a haystack, and 
 Gavin and the earl are dragged to the top of it by a rope. 
 Though there should be another scene, it is only a marriage, 
 which the girls have, therefore, to go through without the 
 help of the boys. This warns me that I have come to an 
 end of my story for all except my little maid. In the days 
 when she sat on my knee and listened it had no end, for 
 after I told her how her father and mother were married a 
 second time she would say, "And then I came, didn't I .' 
 Oh, tell me about me !" So it happened that when she was 
 no higher than my staff she knew more than I could write 
 in another book, and many a time she solemnly told me what 
 I had told her, as : 
 
 "Would you like me to tell you a story? Well, it's about 
 a minister, and the people wanted to be bad to him, and 
 then there was a flood, and a flood is lochs falling instead 
 of rain, and so of course he was nearly drov/nded, and he 
 preached to them till they liked him again, and so they let 
 him marry her, and they like her awful, too, and, just 
 think ! it was my father ; and that's all. Now tell me about 
 grandmother when father came home." 
 
 I told her once again that Margaret never knew how 
 nearly Gavin was driven from his kirk. For Margaret 
 was as one who goes to bed in the daytime and wakes in 
 it, and is not told that there has been a black night while 
 she slept. She had seen her son leave the manse the idol 
 of his people, and she saw them rejoicing as they brought 
 him back. Of what occurred at the Jaws, as the spot where 
 Dow had saved two lives is now called, she learned, but 
 not that these Jaws snatched him and her from an ignominy 
 more terrible than death, for she never knew that the people 
 had meditated driving him from his kirk. This Thrums 
 is bleak and perhaps forbidding, but there is a moment of 
 the day when a setting sun dyes it pink, and the people 
 are like their town. Thrums was never colder in times 
 of snow than were his congregation to their minister when 
 the Great Rain began, but his fortitude rekindled their hearts. 
 He was an obstinate minister, and love had led him a 
 dance, but in the hour of trial he had proved himself a man. 
 
 When Gavin reached the manse, and saw not only his 
 mother but Babbie, he would have kissed them both; but 
 Babbie could only say, "She does not know," and then run
 
 THE LITTLE MINISTER 241 
 
 away crying. Gavin put his arm round his mother, and 
 drew her into the parlour, where he told her who Babbie 
 was. Now Margaret had begun to love Babbie already, 
 and had prayed to see Gavin happily married; but it was 
 a long time before she went up-stairs to look for his wife 
 and kiss her and bring her down. "Why was it a long 
 time?" my little maid would ask, and I had to tell her to 
 wait until she was old, and had a son, when she would find 
 out for herself. 
 
 While Gavin and the earl were among the waters, two 
 men were on their way to Mr. Carfrae's home, to ask him 
 to return with them and preach the Auld Licht kirk of 
 Thrums vacant ; and he came, though now so done that 
 he had to be wheeled about in a little coach. He came in 
 sorrow, yet resolved to perform what was asked of him 
 if it seemed God's will ; but, instead of banishing Gavin, all 
 he had to do was to remarry him and kirk him, both of 
 which things he did, sitting in his coach, as many can tell. 
 Lang Tammas spoke no more against Gavin, but he would 
 not go to the marriage, and he insisted on resigning his 
 eldership for a year and a day. I think he only once again 
 spoke to Margaret. She was in the manse garden when 
 he was passing, and she asked him if he would tell her 
 now why he had been so agitated when he visited her on 
 the day of the flood. He answered, gruffly, "It's no busi- 
 ness o' yours." Doctor McQueen was Gavin's best man. 
 He died long ago of scarlet fever. So severe was the 
 epidemic that for a week he was never in bed. He attended 
 fifty cases without suffering, but as soon as he had bent 
 over Hendry Munn's youngest boys, who both had it, he 
 said, "I'm smitted," and went home to die. You may be 
 sure that Gavin proved a good friend to Micah Dow. I have 
 the piece of slate on which Rob proved himself a good 
 friend to Gavin ; it was in his pocket when we found the 
 body. Lord Rintoul returned to his English estates, and 
 never revisited the Spittal. The last thing I heard of him 
 was that he had been offered the Lord-Lieutenantship of a 
 county, and had accepted it in a long letter, in which he 
 began by pointing out his unworthiness. This undid him, 
 for the Queen, or her councillors, thinking from his first 
 page that he ITad declined the honour, read no further, and 
 appointed another man. Waster Lunny is still alive, but 
 has gone to another farm. Sanders Webster, in his gratitude, 
 wanted Nanny to become Auld Licht, but she refused, say-
 
 242 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 ing, "Mr. Dishart is worth a dozen o' Mr. Duthie, and I'm 
 terrible fond o' Mrs. Dishart, but Estabhshed I was born 
 and Established I'll remain till I'm carried out o' this house 
 feet foremost." 
 
 "But Nanny went to heaven for all that," my little maid 
 told me. "Jean says people can go to heaven though they 
 are not Auld Lichts, but she says it takes them all their time. 
 Would you like me to tell you a story about my mother 
 putting glass on the manse dyke? Well, my mother and my 
 father is very fond of each other, and once they was in the 
 garden, and my father kissed my mother, and there was a 
 woman watching them over the dyke, and she cried out — 
 something naughty." 
 
 "It was Tibbie Birse," I said, "and what she cried was, 
 'Mercy on us, that's the third time in half an hour!' So 
 your mother, who heard her, was annoyed, and put glass on 
 the wall." 
 
 "But it's me that is telling you the story. You are sure 
 you don't know it? Well, they asked father to take the glass 
 away, and he wouldn't; but he once preached at mother for 
 having a white feather in her bonnet, and another time he 
 preached at her for being too fond of him. Jean told me. 
 That's all." 
 
 ' No one seeing Babbie going to church demurely on Gavin's 
 arm could guess her history. Sometimes I wonder whether 
 the desire to be a gypsy again ever comes over her for a 
 mad hour, and whether, if so, Gavin takes such measures to 
 cure her as he threatened in Caddam Wood. I suppose not ; 
 but here is another story : 
 
 "When I ask mother to tell me about her once being a 
 gypsy she says I am a bad 'quisitive little girl, and to put 
 on my hat and come with her to the prayer-meeting; and 
 when I asked father to let me see mother's gypsy frock he 
 made me learn Psalm forty-eight by heart. But once I see'd 
 it, and it was a long time ago, as long as a week ago. Micah 
 Dow gave me rowans to put in my hair, and I like Micah 
 because he calls me Miss, and so I woke in my bed because 
 there was noises, and I ran down to the parlour, and there 
 was my mother in her gypsy frock, and my rowans was in 
 her hair, and my father was kissing her, and when they saw 
 me they jumped ; and that's all." 
 
 "Would you like me to tell you another story? It is about 
 a little girl. Well, there was once a minister and his wife, 
 and they hadn't no little girls, but just little boys, and God
 
 THE "LITTLE MINISTER 243 
 
 was sorry for them, so He put a little girl in a cabbage in 
 the garden, and when they found her they were glad. Would 
 you like me to tell you who the little girl was ? Well, it was 
 me, and, ugh ! I was awful cold in the cabbage. Do you like 
 that story ?" 
 
 "Yes; I like it best of all the stories I know." 
 
 "So do I like it, too. Couldn't nobody help loving me, 
 'cause I'm so nice ? Why am I so fearful nice ?" 
 
 "Because you are like your grandmother." 
 
 "It was clever of my father to know when he found me 
 in the cabbage that my name was Margaret. Are you sorry 
 grandmother is dead?" 
 
 "I am glad your mother and father »vere so good to her 
 and made her so happy." 
 
 "Are you happy ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But when I am happy I laugh." 
 
 "I am old, you see, and you are young." 
 
 "I am nearly six. Did you love grandmother? Then why 
 did you never come to see her? Did grandmother know 
 you was here ? Why not ? Why didn't I not know about 
 you till after grandmother died?" 
 
 "I'll tell you when you are big." 
 
 "Shall I be big enough when I am six?" 
 
 "No, not till your eighteenth birthday." 
 
 "But birthdays come so slow. Will they come quicker 
 when I am big?" 
 
 "Much quicker." 
 
 On her sixth birthday Micah Dow drove my little maid 
 to the schoolhouse in the doctor's gig, and she crept beneath 
 the table and whispered: 
 
 "Grandfather !" 
 
 "Father told me to call you that if I liked, and I like," 
 she said, when I had taken her upon my knee. "I know why 
 you kissed me just now. It was because I looked like grand- 
 mother. Why do you kiss me when I look like her?" 
 
 "Who told you I did that?" 
 
 "Nobody didn't tell me. I just found out. I loved grand- 
 mother, too. She told me all the stories she knew." 
 
 "Did she ever tell you a story about a black dog?" 
 
 "No. Did she know one?" 
 
 "Yes, she knew it." 
 
 "Perhaps she had forgotten it?" 
 
 "No, she remembered it."
 
 244 THE LITTLE MINISTER 
 
 "Tell it to me." 
 
 "Not till you are eighteen." 
 
 "But will you not be dead when I am eighteen? When 
 you go to heaven, will you see grandmother?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Will she be glad to see you ?" 
 
 My little maid's eighteenth birthday has come, and I am 
 still in Thrums, which I love, though it is beautiful to none, 
 perhaps, save to the very done, who lean on their staves, and 
 look long at it, having nothing else to do till they die. I 
 have lived to rejoice in the happiness of Gavin and Babbie; 
 and if at times I have suddenly had to turn away my head 
 after looking upon them in their home surrounded by their 
 children, it was but a moment's envy that I could not l«elp. 
 Margaret never knew of the dominie in the glen. They 
 wanted to tell her of me, but I would not have it. She has 
 been long gone from this world ; but sweet memories of her 
 still grow, like honeysuckle, up the white walls of the manse, 
 smiling in at the parlour window and beckoning from the 
 door, and for some filling all the air with fragrance. It was 
 not she who raised the barrier between her and me, but God 
 Himself; and to those who maintain otherwise, I say they do 
 not understand the purity of a woman's soul. During the 
 years she was lost to me her face ever came between me and 
 ungenerous thoughts ; and now I can say, all that is carnal 
 in me is my own, and all that is good I got from her. Only 
 one bitterness remains. When I found Gavin in the rain, 
 when I was fighting my way through the flood, when I saw 
 how the hearts of the people were turned against him, — 
 above all, when I found Whamond in the manse, — I cried to 
 God, making promises to Him, if He would spare the lad 
 for Margaret's sake, and He spared him; but these promises 
 I have not kept. 
 
 THE END
 
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