I am as yet only on the threshold of my stay in Thornhill, and I am
beginning my long vacation as I intend to end it. Dr Balfour's orders
were short and to the point; and, in bidding a temporary farewell to
professional work and preparing for a long holiday, I know I am
following his instructions and furthering my own interests and future
well-being. Time was when this enforced inaction would have been irksome
indeed. I have always been alert mentally and physically; but since my
accident I have been incapable of any prolonged mental effort, and I
have welcomed the languor of this quiet retreat, which has possessed me
and claimed me as its own. Betty's ministrations I feel I stand in need
of; and Nathan's company, unresponsive and grudging though it be, is all
I desire. Betty has no patience with useless, idling folks, for she is
herself a bustler, and she talks contemptuously of the hangers-on who
daily and nightly support our village corners. Once she told me they
were troubled with a complaint called the 'guyfaul.' I had never heard
the queer word before, and asked its meaning. 'An inclination for meat,
but nane for wark,' she promptly replied; and as I lie abed these
beautiful sunny forenoons I wonder if Betty considers that I also am
afflicted with the 'guyfaul.'
Correspondence of an official character is tabooed; but a day or two ago
I received a long newsy letter from my partner, Murray Monteith, not one
line of which had any reference to business. This morning I had a
further communication, almost equally free from 'shop;' but in a
footnote he remarks as follows: 'We had a call yesterday from our client
the Hon. Mrs Stuart, and in course of conversation she informed me that
she had leased a house in the vicinity of Thornhill, and that her niece,
the late General Stuart's daughter, was staying with her over the
autumn. I was strongly tempted to tell her you were at present resident
in that village, but refrained, knowing it would be unwise of you in the
present circumstances to occupy yourself with her affairs. Our inability
to find a will or to trace the record of the General's marriage troubles
her very much.'
This postscript set me a-thinking, and I lay long pondering obscure
points in a case which had worried and perplexed every one concerned.
Not only was the good name of the Stuart family involved; but, in the
absence of proof, the General's daughter must be--well, nameless, and
the estate must pass to another branch of the family.
So absorbed was I in my train of reflection that I failed to note
Betty's entrance with my breakfast-tray. A short cough and the clatter
of china recalled my wandering thoughts, and I began a rather disjointed
apology. Holding up my firm's letter with the familiar light-blue
envelope, I laughingly said, 'Blame this, Betty, and forgive my
inattention.'
'Hoots, ay,' said Betty, 'it's a' richt; but ye maunna pucker your broo
an' worry your brain. Deil tak' thae lang blue letters, onywey! Nane o'
them that ever I got spelt weel to me; an' when Milligan the postman
handed this yin in this mornin', an' when I thocht o' taxes an' sic
fash, I was sairly tempted to back the fire wi' it. Imphm! that's so,
noo. Eh! by the by, the doctor's Mary looked in on the bygaun, an' she
tells me Dr Grierson will likely be doon to see ye the day. He has had a
letter frae a Dr Balfour o' Edinbro, tellin' him a' aboot ye, an' askin'
him to keep his eye on ye. Imphm! Ay, an', Maister Weelum, ye didna tell
me that ye lay a week in the infirmary insensible.'
'No, Betty,' I said, 'I dare say I didn't; but--well, the fact is I
didn't wish to worry you with details or'----
'Ay, an' naether did ye tell me it was to save your wee dog's life ye
gaed back into the burnin' hoose,' she said in the same inquisitive
tone. I stirred my coffee vigorously, but said nothing. 'An' is it the
case that the stair fell in when ye were on the middle o't, an' that the
wee dog was foun' deid in your airms?'
'That is so, Betty,' I said sadly.
Betty was silent for a minute, and she fumbled aimlessly with the corner
of her apron. 'Lovan,' she said at length, 'it has been a mair terrible
affair than I had ony thocht o'. The heid an' the spine are kittle to
get hurt, but it's a guid's blessin' ye werena burnt beyond recognition.
Efter siccan an experience it's a wonder ye didna relieve your mind to
me regairdin' it lang ere noo. Naebody in this world wad ha'e been mair
interested or sympathetic. What wey did ye no'?'
Her concern and loving interest were unmistakable; but from the tone of
her questionings I opined she was smarting under the sense of a slight,
real or imagined, and I hastened to reassure her. 'My dear Betty,' I
said, 'believe me I had no motive in withholding such news other than
that of saving your feelings. At one time I was minded to tell you all
about it; but when you met me at Elvanfoot I noted at a glance the
pained, surprised look on your face, and I at once decided not to say
more than was absolutely necessary. Besides, Betty, everything happened
so quickly that I can scarcely remember the details.' In a few words I
described what had taken place. 'And now, Betty,' I concluded, 'let us
change the subject. Even now the recollection of my experience is like a
nightmare, and I would rather not speak of it.'
'Imphm!' said Betty abstractedly; 'that I daur say is no' to be wondered
at. I'm sorry if my curiosity has been the means o' bringin' it a' back
again; but, oh man, Maister Weelum, it gaed sair against the grain to
hear o' a' this frae fremit lips. The doctor's Mary has a' the
particulars at her tongue-tap, an' she gaed through it this mornin' like
A B C. I could see she was under the impression that I kenned a' aboot
it, an' I didna seek to disabuse her mind on that, but juist said,
"Imphm! that is so, Mary--what ye say is true;" and she left my doorstep
thinkin' I was farer ben in your confidences than I am. But that's a'
richt, Maister Weelum. I respect your motives, an' I understaun exactly
hoo ye were placed. But, oh, my boy! in ocht that may in the future
distress ye dinna leave Betty oot, an' dinna forget that her he'rt is
big eneuch to haud your sorrows as weel as her ain. Wheesht! Is that the
ooter door openin'? It is; an', dod, that's Dr Grierson's cheepin' buits
on the lobby flaer, an' me no' snodit yet. He's an awfu' dingle-doozie
in the mornin', is the doctor.'
Moistening the tips of her fingers on her lip and keeking into my little
oval looking-glass, she deftly arranged a stray lock of gray-black hair
under the neatly goffered border of her white morning-mutch.' Juist a
word wi' ye, Maister Weelum, before I gang doon. Are ye quite agreeable
that Dr Grierson should veesit ye? He's an auld freen o' your Edinbro
doctor, an' that's hoo he cam' to be written to, so the doctor's Mary
tells me.'
'Oh, I'm quite agreeable, Betty--delighted, indeed,' I replied.
'Eh--ay--imphm! An' ye've nae feelin' on that point?'
'Most assuredly not,' I said. 'But why do you ask?'
She tiptoed across the floor and half-closed the door.
'That's him rappin' wi' his stick on the kitchen flaer,' she said in a
whisper. 'An' tell me this; did the mistress--your mother, I mean--ever
say ocht to ye aboot the doctor an'--an' ony o' her ain folks?'
'Not that I remember of'
'Ay, aweel, that's a' richt. When he comes up, dinna refer to my
speirin' ye this;' and she hurriedly left me and went downstairs.
Thornhill has never been without its Gideon Gray. Had Dr John Brown been
acquainted with its record in this particular respect he could have
added to that remarkable chapter of his _Horoe Subsecivoe_ the names
of not a few medical benefactors, the memory of whose services is yet
fragrant in our midst. Scattered here and there in many a quiet country
kirkyard are the graves of heroes of science who in their day
ungrudgingly gave of their very best, faithfully ministering to the
wants of the poor and needy without thought of fee or reward; men of
ability, intellect, tact, and courage of heart, whose life-work lay in
the sequestered bypaths, and whose names were unknown outside the glen
they called their home. Of such was Dr Grierson; and as he stood by my
bedside the thought momentarily flashed through my mind, would that he
had been limned by Scott or by the creator of Rab and Ailie!
A little over medium height; wiry, spare, and alert; broad shoulders
slightly stooped; long dark hair streaked with gray, without a parting,
brushed straight back from his forehead and hanging in clustering locks
above his stock; his face serious almost, yet not void of humour, and
lit up by kindly, blue, thoughtful eyes; a presence cheering and
reassuring, and a bearing which bespoke the scholar and the gentleman.
His clothes were of rough gray homespun, badly fitted and carelessly
worn. A thin shepherd-tartan plaid, arranged herdwise, hung from his
shoulder, and he held in his hand a round soft hat, gray-green from
exposure to summer sun and winter rains. Such was the man who stood by
my bedside--a Gideon Gray indeed--strong of purpose, keenly observant;
shy, yet not suspicious; revelling in his power of doing good; inured to
cold and privation; buoyant and hopeful in the face of difficulties;
daily in close and loving communion with all nature around him; and girt
about with truthfulness and integrity as with a cloak. Though I had
never before been in his presence, I hailed him within my heart as a
true and honoured friend.
He shook hands without saying good-morning, and seated himself on a
chair at the foot of my bed. Betty, who had preceded him upstairs, and
announced him, walked across the room, took up a position at the gable
window, and feigned an interest in our grocer neighbour's back-yard. He
looked at me pointedly and earnestly, the while stroking his long
straggling beard, and then, half-turning his head toward Betty, he said
with a low, little laugh, and with a pronounced yet euphonious 'burr,'
'Our young friend, Betty, is more of a Kennedy than a Russell.'
'Ay, doctor, that he is,' said Betty, without taking her eyes from the
window. 'He aye took efter his mither's folk. When he was a bairn o'
three he was the very spit o' his aunt Marget. Not that I ha'e ony
recollection o' her, but that's what I mind the mistress used to say.'
'He's like her yet,' the doctor promptly added.--'And in saying so I can
pay no higher compliment to you, my young man.'
'I've heard it said, doctor, that ye kenned the Kennedys aince on a
time,' said Betty, and she changed the position of a pot of musk on the
window-sill.
He looked quickly and questioningly at Betty; but she was busying
herself with the flowers, the while humming, timmer-tuned as usual, the
opening lines of 'The Farmer's Boy.'
Then he looked from her to me, slowly and deliberately crossed his legs,
and, putting his long, thin hands lengthwise on his knee, he said, more
to himself than to Betty, 'Yes, yes, I, as you say, once knew them
well.'
'Ye wad ken Miss Marget, then?' asked Betty after a pause.
To me Betty's questioning was an enigma; but I wasn't slow to notice it
was distinctly disconcerting to the doctor, who quickly changed his
position and sat with his back to the light.
'Miss Marget and I were very, very dear friends,' he said, 'very dear
friends, a long, long time ago;' and he abstractedly traced with the tip
of his finger an irregular circle round the brim of his old soft hat.
Betty with a flick of her apron removed imaginary dust from the
window-sill, and then, coming up to the doctor, she laid her hand on the
back of his chair. 'In that case, then, doctor,' she earnestly said,
'for her sake, for Miss Marget's sake, ye'll do your best for her
nephew, for it breaks my he'rt to see him lyin' there amaist as helpless
as a bairn.' And she hurriedly left the room, and I don't know for
certain, but I think she was crying.
The doctor rose, quietly closed the door, and resumed his seat.
'Betty has undoubtedly your welfare at heart, Mr Russell,' he said.
'Unconsciously, or maybe consciously, she has awakened many memories of
the long ago--memories of times and people that are with me now only in
dreams. Ay, ay;' and he passed his hand slowly adown his face. 'But this
is not getting on with my work,' he said, after a pause.
Putting his hand in his coat pocket, he brought out, not a handkerchief,
as he had intended or as I expected, but a rather sickly-looking
hart's-tongue fern, the root of which was carefully wrapped in a piece
of newspaper and tied with a bootlace.
'Well, well!' he said reproachfully, turning it over in his hand, 'that
is indeed stupid of me. I ought to have planted this immediately on my
arrival this morning; but fortunately I was careful to take sufficient
soil with it, and maybe it is not yet too late.'
'Have you been from home, doctor?' I asked.
'Oh, only for twelve hours,' he said, returning the plant to his pocket.
'I was on the point of going to bed last night, when the Benthead
shepherd called me out to attend his wife. He was driving an old nag I
knew well, a Mitchelslacks pensioner--willing enough, you may be sure,
or he wouldn't have been owned by a Harkness, but long past his best;
so, in order to be as soon as possible beside my patient, I quickly
saddled my own mare, and was trotting down the Gashouse Brae when the
kirk clock was striking eleven. I passed the old nag near Laught; but
unfortunately at Camplemill Daisy cast a shoe; so, rather than trouble
the smith at such an untimely hour, I put her into his stable, the door
of which was unlocked, waited the upcoming of the shepherd, and drove
the rest of the journey with him in his spring-cart. After sitting for
an hour or two at a smoky peat fire, reading by the aid of a guttering
tallow-candle a back-number of the _Agricultural Gazette_, I was called
to work, and very soon added another arrow--the tenth--to the shepherd's
quiver. When everything was "a' bye," as we say locally, Benthead kindly
offered to drive me down to the mill; but, as the early morning was so
delightfully fine, and nature outside so pleading and inviting, I took
to the moor on "Shanks' naigie." Ah, the delight of that moorland walk!
the exhilarating air of the uplands! Why, man, it was like quaffing
wine, and the cobwebs--warp and woof of the sleepless hours--were
charmed away as if by magic. The sun was just peeping over the crest of
Bellybucht, and his rays were lying lovingly athwart the budding
heather and the silver mist-wreathed bents. Bracken and juniper,
blaeberry and crowberry; dewdrops here, dewdrops there, sparkling and
shimmering; tiny springs of crystal water oozing out from whinstone
chinks, gurgling and trickling down pebbled ruts, seen awhile, then
unseen, lost in spongy moss and tangled seggs. Overhead the morning song
of the gladsome lark; to my right the _wheep_ of the snipe and the quack
of a startled duck; to my left the _yittering_ of the curlew and the
_chirrup_ of the flitting, restless cheeper; and over all the spirit of
the wild which isolates and draws within her mantle-folds all those who
cuddle close to Nature's breast. Ah, what a morning! what a scene! Hat
in hand I walked, with my head bared to the throbbing air and the
glorious sunshine. "Surely, surely," I said to myself, "it is good for
me to be here;" and with a sense of thankfulness in my heart, and
turning my face to the shadowy Lowthers, I sang with the Psalmist, "I to
the hills will lift mine eyes."
'I struck the Crichope about six o'clock; wandered leisurely down the
linn; pulled this hart's-tongue fern, and a few more which I must have
lost; picked up this fossil--part of a frog, I think--which will make a
welcome addition to my collection.' He hesitated for a moment, with
half-closed eyes and his chin resting on his folded stock. Then he
suddenly looked toward me and asked, 'Have you ever walked down Crichope
alone?'
'No, not alone,' I replied.
'Then Crichope has never spoken to you. You have never heard its
message. To me, this morning, it was the mouthpiece of the Creator--the
great Architect; _for I was alone_. With those who love and admire His
handiwork He is ever in communion, and He speaks in the rustle of the
leaf, the tinkle of the stream, the whisper of the grass, and the echo
of the linn. But you must be alone, humble, reverent, stripped to the
pelt, as it were, of everything sordid, boastful, and vainglorious; and
then that old ravine will be a sanctuary where in its solitude you will
find solace, comfort in its caverns, food for reflection in its story
and traditions.'
Again he paused, and I lay with eager eyes fixed on his animated face.
Betty's cat, with arched back and long tail, brushed slowly past his
knee. With an ingratiating 'Pussy, puss,' he stroked her fur.
'About half-past seven,' he continued, 'I reached the smithy, had a cup
of tea with Smith Martin and his wife, got Daisy's shoe made siccar,
and was mounting for home, when news was brought from Dresserland that a
farm-worker had fallen from his cart and broken his leg. Off Daisy and I
trotted up the brae. But, tut! tut! why should I waste my precious time,
and weary and fatigue you to boot, by detailing all my morning round?'
'Oh, doctor, don't stop!' I pleaded. 'I know and love that whole
countryside, and a talk with you is like a walk in the open. Indeed, my
limbs twitched as you strode along, and I felt as if I were keeping step
with you.'
'Ay, your limbs twitched, did they? That's a good sign.'
'A sign of my appreciation of your love of nature and poetry of
language, doctor?' I asked.
'No, no; something far more important than appreciation. But this is not
business. I know you will be anxious to learn in how far Dr Balfour and
I agree, so let me have a look at that damaged spine of yours.'
Betty tells me that she's 'feart the doctor's a careless, godless man,
for he never enters a kirk door.' I could have told her that he had
attended church that morning, and that he had had communion with God and
a glimpse of heaven which would have been an unknown experience and an
unfamiliar sight to many who occupy a church pew every Sunday; but Betty
wouldn't have understood--nay, wouldn't have believed me--and I was
silent.
His visit has cheered and encouraged me, and his conversation has made
me proud of his acquaintance. He is to call on me again in a few days;
and meanwhile I have to take more exercise; so with the aid of a
friendly hazel I shall have a daily 'daunder' and an opportunity of
renewing my acquaintance with Douglas the barber in his wee back-room,
John Sterling the shoemaker at his souter's stool, and Deacon Webster at
his tool-laden bench.