_SOPHIA_.
Three weeks later, Mrs. Sangster entertained friends. Dinner at
Auchlippie took place earlier than at Inchbracken--finished the
afternoon rather than began the evening. At its conclusion the master
withdrew, to make the round of his stables and cattle sheds, and see
that the stock was fitly provided and bestowed for the night. His son,
Mr. Peter Sangster of Manchester and his friend Mr. Wallowby, likewise
of Manchester, and now in Scotland for a short vacation, also withdrew
and lighting their cigars sauntered down the avenue. Only the Rev. Mr.
Dowlas was left within doors in company with Mrs. Sangster and her
daughter. The latter sought her embroidery frame in a distant bay
window, and soon became engrossed in counting the squares of her
Berlin wool work.
The elder lady was left alone to converse with her ghostly friend, and
the pair selecting the two easiest and roomiest chairs they could
find, drew a long breath and settled themselves for along and
confidential 'crack.' There was much to tell and to hear about the
fortunes of the 'cause' throughout the several parishes of their
presbytery, in which Mr. Dowlas was a guiding spirit; but at length
they came round to the lady's own parish of Kilrundle, which she, as
ruling lady of the ruling elder and chief adherent, considered as her
own in a more especial sense than did any other of the parishioners.
'And I think,' she said, 'Mr. Dowlas, that we here in Kilrundle, have
fought the good fight as well as any of you. They tell me there were
not two dozen residuaries in Kilrundle Church on Sunday, though the
Inchbracken family are far more particular about their servants
attending ordinances now than they used to be. And Lady Caroline goes
twice every Sunday herself. You know there was many and many a Sabbath
day in the old time, that she never darkened the kirk door at all, but
now she goes to countenance that sticket dominie that fills good old
Doctor Brown's pulpit. Well! poor misguided woman, let us hope she may
perhaps get some small enlightenment to her darkened mind! Though, I
fear, the motive which draws her to the sanctuary, being only the
support of high handed error and worldliness, is one not likely to
bring a blessing. It seems _doubtful_ to me too if we have any right
to consider the churches of the Establishment as sanctuaries at all.
Just hot-beds of soul-deadening Moderatism and Erastianism, where the
word of God is only permitted, in so far as it can be made to square
with Lord Aberdeen's Bill.'
'Well ma'am! they _do_ say that that sinful Act of Parliament is laid
on the table of the residuary presbyteries side by side with the word
of God! But I would fain hope that that is an exaggeration. I hear you
are having very full meetings at the Muir Foot; times of refreshing, I
hope, and sincere milk of the word.'
'We've much to be thankful for. On fine days when the heather's dry,
far more turn out than ever I saw in Old Kilrundle Kirk in its best
days; and even when it rains, you'd be surprised to see how many sit
out the discourse under their plaids and umbrellas. I hope the hearts
of the persecutors may be turned before long, however, and that we may
get a stanse for a church, before the rough weather sets in. There's a
very suitable stanse, just opposite Inchbracken Gates, and in full
view of the Old Kirk. That would suit us finely and be a standing
testimony against the backslidings in high places, and I want Mr.
Sangster to head a deputation and wait on the General, poor
thoughtless worldling, and lay our case before him, simply but
faithfully; but I cannot prevail on him to undertake the duty, for I
think it is a duty. He says he cannot afford to quarrel with General
Drysdale, who has always been a good neighbour, though I cannot say it
myself. I have found Lady Caroline always very high with me. I fear,
poor woman, she wants some grievous affliction to bring her to a due
sense of her unworthiness, and that she'll get it. However, widow
Forester has a small free-hold down Glen Effick, and the Deacons'
Court are considering about buying a corner fronting on the high road.
She wants a big price for it though, and they cannot get her to move
from her terms. She says the bit of land is all she has in the world,
and she must do the best she can with it.'
'Ah!' sighed the minister, 'filthy lucre!' It is strange, people will
set so much store by things which perish in the using, notwithstanding
the noble example of the widow in the gospel, who cast into the
treasury all her living!'
'Yes, it is indeed sad to see such worldly-mindedness; and you see
we've a poor congregation, and whatever money is spent on the ground,
there will be just so much less to lay out on the building, and we
will end with having some poor draughty little place, with narrow
benches and straight backs, enough to give one the fidgets in a long
service, or an attack of rheumatism. We have subscribed twenty pounds
ourselves to the church building fund, and it seems very hard that so
much of the money should just be going into widow Forester's pocket;
I cannot think that a person like that can be in a proper frame of
mind. Indeed, I called on her myself, and strove to place the matter
before her in all love and faithfulness. I earnestly besought her to
leave all care and anxiety for her poor perishing body in higher
hands,--and, what do you think? Mr. Dowlas, she had the assurance to
tell me that we had better give them a site for church, manse and
school, up here at Auchlippie! The impertinent beasom! I just gave her
one look, and I walked out of her house--and I will never speak to
that woman again!'
There came a twinkle into the minister's eye. He was by no means
devoid of the sense of humour, and perhaps that trait in himself,
which led the 'unregenerate' to think they detected in him a
considerable vein of pawkie selfishness, led him more keenly to enjoy
his friend's unconscious display of a similar propensity. He soon,
however, solemnized his features and voice with the regulation
ecclesiastical sigh.
'The flesh is weak! my dear friend,' he said in time, 'and we must
bear with one another's infirmities! The strong especially must bear
with the weak.'
'Yes,' retorted the lady, whose meekness was generally absent on the
faintest hint of reproof, 'but the weak are required to look up to the
strong for guidance as well as protection; for the powers that be are
ordained of God. And I consider that the like of Widow Forester was
very far out of her duty to speak back to _me_. The Shorter Catechism
is most precise about superiors, inferiors, and equals.'
'Ah yes!' said the minister, with his twinkle of eye, and more unction
of voice. He was too sensible a man to embroil himself with an angry
woman and a hospitable hostess. 'It is a wonderful compendium of sound
and wholesome doctrine, the Shorter Catechism. I hope our young friend
Mr. Brown sees that the lambs of the flock are well grounded in its
hallowed teachings.'
'Oh he does, and I am very particular myself that my young women's
class have all the scripture proofs to each question at their finger
ends. I would like you to examine them, Mr. Dowlas, to-morrow
afternoon. You see Mr. Brown is but young yet, though he is a most
excellent lad, and I feel to him almost like a mother, and try to
advise him as an older head sometimes can. But he's rather fractious
at times to the voice of instruction. Young folk, you see, will be
young folk!'
'Yes ma'am,' said Mr. Dowlas, who, whatever his faults, was always
loyal to his cloth, and would permit no one but himself to say
anything against a cleric in his presence, 'I look on you people of
Kilrundle as most fortunate in your minister. He is one of the
excellent of the earth, and has few equals in the presbytery either
for piety or learning, or I think talent. If he lives he will take a
high place in the church, and then his zeal and his sacrifices for the
cause are something to make many an older member blush. You see, to
him Erastianism showed itself in its most enticing aspect, for his
father, we must all admit, was a worthy man, though moderate.'
'Ah yes!' broke in the lady; 'there's where it is! In this life he had
his good things, and was thought a worthy man; but he would not join
at the Disruption. The pleasures of sin for a season were too much for
him, and now he is gone to his account! It's a solemn thought, Mr.
Dowlas, to think where that poor old man may be now!' Here she became
ejaculatory. 'Without are dogs--and moderates.'
The minister here broke in to prevent worse, 'As the tree falleth,
dear lady, so shall it lie. Old Doctor Brown led a godly life, and it
is not permitted to pry into the mysteries beyond the veil. He
belonged to an earlier generation, and was so bound up in the work of
his parish that I do not think he gave much thought to what was
transpiring in the church at large. We may judge from the training he
gave his son, that his heart was in the right place, and from the
course his son has taken since he was brought face to face with the
questions of the day, we may guess how the father would have acted if
he had been similarly placed. Just see how young Roderick, though not
yet ordained, has brought out the whole of his large parish with him.
It is a great achievement! When do Mr. Sangster and the Session intend
to moderate the call, and get him ordained and settled among you?'
'Well! to tell you the truth, Mr. Dowlas, I have been rather delaying
and keeping back Mr. Sangster (so far as a wife may) from pressing
that matter forward too precipitately. It seems to me that, with the
young man's talents, it is like hiding gospel light under a bushel, to
keep him in this poor neighbourhood. If he had only a chance now to
preach in Edinburgh or Glasgow, or even Aberdeen, who knows but he
might get a call to a city church? While if he is once ordained and
settled here, he may be twenty years before he gets out of it. Between
ourselves--you see, there has been a very considerable intimacy
between him and our Sophia, for years and years back. I cannot say
that anything has ever been said--I will not say that anything wants
to be said--but a mother's heart, Mr. Dowlas, will ponder and be
anxious. Before the Disruption, when there was every prospect of his
becoming assistant and successor to his father, such an arrangement
might have been feasible enough--not that it could be said to be much
of a match for our daughter--but when there is true love and true
religion, and a very good position in the county--for the Browns
always visited with the best, and the money the uncle that died in
India left them--. I fear I am a wee bit romantic, Mr. Dowlas, but I
think if matters had arranged themselves in that way, and Sophia
had wished, I could have given my consent. But the Disruption has
changed all that! Still, with a city charge, and a nice congregation
able to support a minister, like St. George's, Edinburgh, we will
say,--perhaps we might have thought of it yet. But if he settled down
here in Kilrundle, without either church or manse, it would be a clear
tempting of Providence to entrust him with the happiness of our
Sophia. I think of her that we have reared with such care, and given
the most expensive education to!--potichomania, even, and the use of
the globes!--to be living about among the cottars in Glen Effick. It
would never do! The clay floors would bring on a galloping consumption
in six month's time!'
'Mr. Guthrie, ma'am, of Edinburgh, will remedy all that before long.
Have you not heard of the wonderful success that is attending his
scheme? which is, to build a manse for every minister in the Church? I
hear he is carrying everything before him, and I am not surprised.
Such energy and such powers of persuasion could not possibly fail.'
'I hope it may be so, for the Church's sake. But as regards Mr. Brown,
he would still be in but a small way to take a wife. Not that I would
have you for a moment to imagine that we are looking for a proposal
from him. I have great confidence in Sophia's sound Christian
principles. I do not think she would ever bring herself to do anything
rashly or unadvisedly--she has great prudence and sound sense. Did you
observe Mr. Wallowby at dinner, and the very marked attention he paid
her? I believe he is interested in her already! and no wonder, for
there are few like her, either for good looks or solid sense. Mr.
Wallowby is very wealthy, and perhaps Sophia might see it her duty to
accept, if he were to propose. Great wealth opens such a door for
extended usefulness! That would relieve my mind greatly as to Roddie
Brown, poor man, and his prospects. But as I said before, Sophia has
never opened her mind to me, nor, I believe, has either admirer spoken
to her. Roddie would speak fast enough, I am sure, if he either saw
his way to keep a wife, or got encouragement from us; but we must see
our way better before doing that. As for Mr. Wallowby, he only arrived
yesterday, but I think so soon as he knows his own mind, he will let
us know it too.'
'It is an anxious time for a mother, when a beloved daughter's
settlement comes to be decided. But here come our young friends Mr.
and Miss Brown!'
In fact the Sangster dog-cart here drove past the window, and set down
the young preacher and his sister at the door. Thereupon supervened
considerable noise of voices in the hall, for Peter Sangster and his
friend had been smoking through the bars of the lodge gate when the
dog-cart came in sight, and Mr. Wallowby had been so taken with what
he was pleased to call the trim clipper-like cut of Mary Brown, that
he had persuaded Peter to dismiss the groom driving, and get in
themselves to accompany the new comers to the house. Peter being an
old acquaintance and admirer of Mary's was not averse, and when he
found her seated at his side, he wished the avenue had been of greater
length.
Sophia left her embroidery frame to meet Mary as she alighted, and
carry her off to her chamber, while Roderick entered the presence of
the Lady of Auchlippie.
Mr. Dowlas hailed the arrival with sincere satisfaction, for his
hostess' postprandial confidences had been a little irksome. She had
been loquacious and exciting, when, if the unvarnished truth may be
told, he would fain have been silent, still, tranquil, somnolent and
perhaps even asleep; for he had dined copiously. At any time it is
unpleasant to hear one's sincerely cherished sentiments caricatured,
or made ridiculous by being introduced in a discordant connection, but
it is aggravating when the exhibition is obtruded on a mind rendered
reposeful by the sense of physical repletion. The lady's jumble of
genuine selfish worldliness and artificial pietism had been very far
from soothing. He could not but admit in his heart, that he had
detected something like the same stirring of mixed motives in himself;
but then, even to himself, they had taken a more seemly guise. Here in
their grosser manifestation they shocked him greatly. It seemed like
looking in a distorting mirror, when the gazer cannot withdraw his
eyes from the hideous image, which he still perceives to be his own,
although so different and deformed.
Mr. Dowlas rose, and said he would take a short stroll in the garden
before tea. Mrs. Sangster re-seated herself with Roderick, and
proceeded to make herself busy with the worldly affairs and spiritual
state of many members of his flock, giving much valuable advice, as of
a mother in Israel to her youngest son. Her eye, however, rested not
on his comely face, but peered over his shoulder to see how it sped
with Sophia and Mr. Wallowby, for she was resolved that no detrimental
influence should come between that wealthy man of Manchester and her
daughter's charms, if perchance she might find favour in his eyes.
Alas! the rich man's eyes were fixed on Mary Brown, whose lively talk
engaged both himself and Peter, while Sophia, resplendent embodiment
of repose and still life, completed the group, but contributed nothing
to the conversation. Mrs. Sangster grew restless as she watched, lost
the thread of her discourse more than once, resumed in the wrong
place, and wondering what her interlocutor would think, grew more and
more confused. Had she looked in his face instead of past him, she
would have been reassured. He had moved his chair a little so as to
see, by turning his eye, in the same direction to which her looks were
directed, and he sat regarding her with a smile of reposeful content.
He probably knew nothing of what she was saying, and in truth he
bestowed only so much attention as enabled him to smile or bow when a
pause in the current of words seemed to call for a sign of assent. The
young man's soul was steeped in tranquil satisfaction. He breathed the
same air, he occupied the same room with Sophia,--the Sophia ever
present in his thoughts by day and his dreams by night, and when he
raised his eyes they rested on her form.
Sophia Sangster--the name is prosaic enough. Not Romeo himself could
have taught the nightingales to warble it. But there are no
nightingales in the North, and the name of the girl he loved best had
never struck Roderick as wanting in melody. She was about the same age
as his sister, but taller and larger in every way. Indeed, she was on
as large a scale as a woman can well be, without disturbing the sense
of fitness and harmony; but the proportion was so fine, that unless
when some one was near with whom to compare her, she would have passed
for the medium height. Perfectly modelled, and in the finest health,
she lent to each movement a rhythmical repose, while rest was in her
the suspended action we see in a marble statue, all free from the limp
flaccidity of lolling sloth. Her abundant hair was coiled in
numberless braids about her head, whose low forehead reminded one of
ancient sculpture. So also did the straight nose, full lips, and chin.
The rich currents of exuberant health lent brilliant carnation tints
to a soft and delicate skin, and nourished the cool shining of the
large brown eyes beneath the shadow of their curving lids and long
dark lashes-eyes into which poor Roderick had gazed with reverent
wonder since long ago.
He saw in this maiden of the admirable physique, and the transparent
well-coloured eyes, all that was responsive to his enthusiastic and
imaginative nature. Another Pygmalion, he had breathed into her clay a
life derived from his own, and now, heathen-like, he worshipped and
rejoiced in the work of his own hands, and basked in the light of
perfections which existed only in his fanciful desires. With her fine
person and her talent for silence and repose, she was like a handsome
wall, on which the magic lantern of his thoughts could disport itself
in the gayest hues of imagination, and, for the present, with far more
comfort and delight than had the Sophia of his worship been a real
person, liable to be found wanting, and falling short of expectation.
Being an ideal creature altogether, it wanted but a little more
make-believe in a new place to fit her exactly to each varying mood.
A young child finds greater and more lasting amusement in the rough,
coarse cuts to be found in a backstreet picture book, than in the
daintiest illustrations of Caldecott or Kate Greenaway; and the
reason, no doubt is, that art having realized less, there is more
scope for imagination--more field for the young idea to play in. So
too in heathendom, the worship of Isis continued a living cult long
after that of the Latin gods had become merely a state ceremonial. The
blank impersonal carving of the Egyptian idol left unlimited
possibilities to the devout imagination, which each worshipper could
work out according to his own needs, while the fully realized
conceptions of Grecian art showed more to the worshipper than perhaps
he could take in, and the bodily perfection displayed recalled rather
the victor in some circus contest than suggested the mysteries of the
unseen.
But while we have been talking of her daughter, Mrs. Sangster and her
guests have gone to tea. Tea was a meal forty years ago. The company
sat round the table, which was set out with plates of bread and
butter, various kinds of cake, and sundry varieties of preserves, the
work of Sophia all, and works whose excellence warranted the pride she
took in them; for before all else Sophia was a notable housekeeper.
After tea there was music, but it being Saturday night, Sophia
refrained from performing her last-learned polka, seeing it was an
elder's house and two ministers were present; not that she feared to
seduce these grave gentlemen into the levity of a dance, but that it
was not consonant with the Sabbath exercises of the coming morrow.
Mary therefore was called on to sing for them 'Angels ever bright and
fair,' and such other morsels of Handel as she could recall without
her music. After that, Mr. Sangster called for his favourite Psalm
tunes, in which he and Mr. Dowlas joined with immense relish, and no
small volume of sound. Mary's voice was completely overborne in the
din, and Mr. Wallowby added a new experience in sacred song to his not
very complimentary catalogue of the transgressions and shortcomings of
the Scotch as measured by the standard of Manchester.