OUTCAST AND ALIEN FROM THE COMMONWEALTH.
"Moreover," said the minister--coming in an hour afterwards to
take up the interrupted discussion--"the kirk of the Marrow
overrides all considerations of affection or self-interest. If you
are to enter the Marrow kirk, you must live for the Marrow, and
fight for the Marrow, and, above all, you must wed for the Marrow--"
"As you did, no doubt," said Ralph, somewhat ungenerously.
Ralph had remained sitting in the study where the minister had
left him.
"No, for myself," said the minister, with a certain firmness and
high civility, which made the young man ashamed of himself, "I am
no true son of the Marrow. I have indeed served the Marrow kirk in
her true and only protesting section for twenty-five years; but I
am only kept in my position by the good grace of two men--of your
father and of Walter Skirving. And do not think that they keep
their mouths sealed by any love for me. Were there only my own
life and good name to consider, they would speak instantly, and I
should be deposed, without cavil or word spoken in my own defence.
Nay, by what I have already spoken, I have put myself in your
hands. All that you have to do is simply to rise in your place on
the Sabbath morn and tell the congregation what I have told you--
that the minister of the Marrow kirk in Dullarg is a man rebuking
sin when his own hearthstone is unclean--a man irregularly
espoused, who wrongfully christened his own unacknowledged child."
Allan Welsh laid his brow against the hard wood of the study table
as though to cool it.
"No," he continued, looking Ralph in the face, as the midnight
hummed around, and the bats softly fluttered like gigantic moths
outside, "your father is silent for the sake of the good name of
the Marrow kirk; but this thing shall never be said of his own
son, and the only hope of the Marrow kirk--the lad she has
colleged and watched and prayed for--not only the two
congregations of Edinburgh and the Dullarg contributing yearly out
of their smallest pittances, but the faithful single members and
adherents throughout broad Scotland--many of whom are coming to
Edinburgh at the time of our oncoming synod, in order to be
present at it, and at the communion when I shall assist your
father."
"But why can not I marry Winsome Charteris, even though she be
your daughter, as you say?" asked Ralph.
"O young man," said the minister, "ken ye so little about the kirk
o' the Marrow, and the respect for her that your father and myself
cherish for the office of her ministry, that ye think that we
could permit a probationer, on trials for the highest office
within her gift, to connect himself by tie, bond, or engagement
with the daughter of an unblest marriage? That wouald be winking
at a new sin, darker even, than the old." Then, with a burst of
passion--"I, even I, would sooner denounce it myself, though it
cost me my position! For twenty years I have known that before God
I was condemned. You have seen me praying--yes, often--all night,
but never did you or mortal man hear me praying for myself."
Ralph held out his hand in sympathy. Mr. Welsh did not seem to
notice it. He went on:
"I was praying for this poor simple folk--the elect of God--their
minister alone a castaway, set beyond the mercy of God by his own
act. Have I not prayed that they might never be put to shame by
the knowledge of the minister's sin being made a mockery in the
courts of Belial? And have I not been answered?"
Here we fear that Mr. Welsh referred to the ecclesiastical
surroundings of the Reverend Erasmus Teends.
"And I prayed for my poor lassie, and for you, when I saw you both
in the floods of deep waters. I have wept great and bitter tears
for you twain. But I am to receive my answer and reward, for this
night you shall give me your word that never more will you pass
word of love to Winsome, the daughter of Allan Charteris Welsh.
For the sake of the Marrow kirk and the unstained truth delivered
to the martyrs, and upheld by your father one great day, you will
do this thing."
"Mr. Welsh," said the young man calmly, "I cannot, even though I
be willing, do this thing. My heart and life, my honour and word,
are too deeply engaged for me to go back. At whatever cost to
myself, I must keep tryst and pledge with the girl who has trusted
me, and who for me has to-night suffered things whose depths of
pain and shame I know not yet."
"Then," said the minister sternly, "you and I must part. My duty
is done. If you refuse my appeal, you are no true son of the
Marrow kirk, and no candidate that I can recommend for her
ministry. Moreover, to keep you longer in my house and at my board
were tacitly to encourage you in your folly."
"It is quite true," replied Ralph, unshaken and undaunted, "that I
may be as unfit as you say for the office and ministry of the
Marrow kirk. It is, indeed, only as I have thought for a long
season. If that be so, then it were well that I should withdraw,
and leave the place for some one worthier."
"I wonder to hear ye, Ralph Peden, your father's son," said the
minister, "you that have been colleged by the shillings and
sixpences of the poor hill folk. How will ye do with these?"
"I will pay them back," said Ralph.
"Hear ye, man: can ye pay back the love that hained and saved to
send them to Edinburgh? Can ye pay back the prayers and
expectations that followed ye from class to class, rejoicing in
your success, praying that the salt of holiness might be put for
you into the fountains of earthly learning? Pay back, Ralph
Peden?--I wonder sair that ye are not shamed!"
Indeed, Ralph was in a sorrowful quandary. He knew that it was all
true, and he saw no way out of it without pain and grief to some.
But the thought of Winsome's cry came to him, heard in the
lonesome night. That appeal had severed him in a moment from all
his old life. He could not, though he were to lose heaven and
earth, leave her now to reproach and ignominy. She had claimed him
only in her utter need, and he would stand good, lover and friend
to be counted on, till the world should end.
"It is true what you say," said Ralph; "I mourn for it every word,
but I cannot and will not submit my conscience and my heart to the
keeping even of the Marrow kirk."
"Ye should have thought on that sooner," interjected the minister
grimly.
"God gave me my affections as a sacred trust. This also is part of
my religion. And I will not, I cannot in any wise give up hope of
winning this girl whom I love, and whom you above all others ought
surely to love."
"Then," said the minister, rising solemnly with his hand
outstretched as when he pronounced the benediction, "I, Allan
Welsh, who love you as my son, and who love my daughter more than
ten daughters who bear no reproach, tell you, Ralph Peden, that I
can no longer company with you. Henceforth I count you as a rebel
and a stranger. More than self, more than life, more than child or
wife, I, sinner as I am, love the honour and discipline of the
kirk of the Marrow. Henceforth you and I are strangers."
The words fired the young man. He took up his hat, which had
fallen upon the floor.
"If that be so, the sooner that this house is rid of the presence
of a stranger and a rebel the better for it, and the happier for
you. I thank you for all the kindness you have shown to me, and I
bid you, with true affection and respect, farewell!"
So, without wailing even to go up-stairs for anything belonging to
him, and with no further word on either side, Ralph Peden stepped
into the clear, sobering midnight, the chill air meeting him like
a wall. The stars had come out and were shining frosty-clear,
though it was June.
And as soon as he was gone out the minister fell on his knees, and
so continued all the night praying with his face to the earth.