"Has Rob Dow come back?" I called out after I had started.
"Whaur frae?" 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 realize that I was holding my head painfully to 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 school-house
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 floating 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'."
"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 furniture 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 economized. I could
never laugh at the arrangement, as I knew that Betty had planned it on
her deathbed 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 policeman 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'll 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 soft-heartedly:
"Here's a bit news that'll open Mysy Moncur'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 o' the kirk fram
me yestreen, and winna gie them up. He says 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 minister 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 gypsy. 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 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."