There came an answering cry from the closet; Annie
rushed out, half undressed, and threw her arms about
her husband.
“Joseph! Joseph!” she said, in a
voice hard with agony—almost more dreadful
than a scream—“gien ye speyk like
that, ye ’ll drive me mad. Lat the lassie
gang, but lea’ me my God!” Joseph pushed
her gently away; turned from her, fell on his knees,
and moaned out—“O God, gien thoo
has her, we s’ neither greit nor grum’le:
but dinna tak the faith frae ’s.”
He remained on his knees silent, with his head against
the chimney jamb. His wife crept away to her
closet.
“Peter,” said Malcolm, “I’m
gaein’ aff the nicht to luik for the laird,
and see gien he can tell ’s onything aboot her:
wadna ye better come wi’ me?”
To the heart of the father it was as the hope of the
resurrection of the world. The same moment he
was on his feet and taking down his bonnet; the next
he disappeared in the closet, and Malcolm heard the
tinkling of the money in the lidless teapot; then out
he came with a tear on his face and a glimmer in his
eyes.
The sun was down, and a bone piercing chill, incarnate
in the vague mist that haunted the ground, assailed
them as they left the cottage. The sea moaned
drearily. A smoke seemed to ascend from the horizon
halfway to the zenith, something too thin for cloud,
too black for vapour; above that the stars were beginning
to shine. Joseph shivered and struck his hands
against his shoulders.
“Care ’s cauldrife,” he said, and
strode on.
Almost in silence they walked together to the county
town, put up at a little inn near the river, and at
once began to make inquiries. Not a few persons
had seen the laird at different times, but none knew
where he slept or chiefly haunted. There was nothing
for it but to set out in the morning, and stray hither
and thither, on the chance of somewhere finding him.
Although the better portion of the original assembly
had forsaken the Baillies’ Barn, there was still
a regular gathering in it as before, and if possible
even a greater manifestation of zeal for the conversion
of sinners. True, it might not be clear to an
outsider that they always made a difference between
being converted and joining their company, so ready
were they to mix up the two in their utterances; and
the result’s of what they counted conversion
were sometimes such as the opponents of their proceedings
would have had them: the arrogant became yet
more arrogant, and the greedy more greedy; the tongues
of the talkative went yet faster, and the gad abouts
were yet seldomer at home, while there was such a superabundance
of private judgment that it overflowed the cisterns
of their own concerns, and invaded the walled gardens
of other people’s motives: yet, notwithstanding,
the good people got good, if the other sort got evil;
for the meek shall inherit the earth, even when the
priest ascends the throne of Augustus. No worst
thing ever done in the name of Christianity, no vilest
corruption of the Church, can destroy the eternal
fact that the core of it is in the heart of Jesus.
Branches innumerable may have to be lopped off and
cast into the fire, yet the word I am the vine remaineth.
