I. On Devorgilla's Bridge
II. Trooper Bryden of Lag's Horse
III. By Blednoch Water
IV. The Tavern Brawl
V. In the Dark of the Night
VI. In the Lap of the Hills
VII. The Flute-player
VIII. A Covenanter's Charity
IX. The Story of Alexander Main
X. The Field Meeting
XI. Flower o' the Heather
XII. The Greater Love
XIII. Pursued
XIV. In the Slough of Despond
XV. In the Haven of Daldowie
XVI. Andrew Paterson, Hill-Man
XVII. An Adopted Son
XVIII. The Wisdom of a Woman
XIX. The Making of a Daisy Chain
XX. Love the All-Compelling
XXI. The Hired Man
XXII. "The Least of these, My brethren"
XXIII. The Search
XXIV. Baffled
XXV. The Shattering of Dreams
XXVI. Hector the Packman
XXVII. On the Road to Dumfries
XXVIII. For the Sweet Sake of Mary
XXIX. Beside the Nith
XXX. In the Tiger's Den
XXXI. The Cave by the Linn
XXXII. Toilers of the Night
XXXIII. The Going of Hector
XXXIV. The Flight of Peter Burgess
XXXV. Within Sight of St. Giles
XXXVI. For the Sake of the Covenant
XXXVII. "Out of the snare of the Fowlers"
XXXVIII. The Passing of Andrew and Jean
XXXIX. False Hopes
XL. I seek a Flower
XLI. In the Hands of the Persecutors
XLII. In the Tolbooth of Dumfries
XLIII. By the Tower of Lincluden
XLIV. "Quo Vadis, Petre?"
XLV. On the Wings of the Sea-Mew
XLVI. Sunshine after Storm
XLVII. The End; and a Beginning
*FLOWER O' THE HEATHER*
*CHAPTER I*
*ON DEVORGILLA'S BRIDGE*
It is a far cry from the grey walls of Balliol College to the sands at
Dumfries, and there be many ways that may lead a man from the one to the
other. So thought I, Walter de Brydde of the City of Warwick, when on
an April morning in the year of grace 1685 I stood upon Devorgilla's
bridge and watched the silver Nith glide under the red arches.
I was there in obedience to a whim; and the whim, with all that went
before it--let me set it down that men may judge me for what I was--was
the child of a drunken frolic. It befell in this wise.
I was a student at Balliol--a student, an' you please, by courtesy, for
I had no love for book-learning, finding life alluring enough without
that fragrance which high scholarship is supposed to lend it.
It was the middle of the Lent term, and a little band of men like-minded
with myself had assembled in my room, whose window overlooked the
quadrangle, and with cards, and ribald tales, and song, to say nothing
of much good beer, we had spent a boisterous evening. Big Tom had
pealed five score and one silvery notes from Christ Church Tower, and
into the throbbing silence that followed his mighty strokes, I, with the
fire of some bold lover, had flung the glad notes of rare old Ben's
"Song to Celia." A storm of cheers greeted the first verse, and, with
jocund heart, well-pleased, I was about to pour my soul into the
tenderness of the second, when Maltravers, seated in the window-recess,
interrupted me.
"Hush!" he cried, "there's a Proctor in the Quad, listening: what can he
want?" Now when much liquor is in, a man's wits tend to forsake him,
and I was in the mood to flout all authority.
"To perdition with all Proctors!" I exclaimed. "The mangy spies!" And I
strode to the window and looked out.
In the faint moonlight I saw the shadowy figure of a man standing with
face upturned at gaze below my window. The sight stirred some spirit of
misrule within me, and, flinging the window wide, I hurled straight at
the dark figure my leathern beer-pot with its silver rim. The contents
struck him full in the face, and the missile fell with a thud on the
lawn behind him. There was an angry splutter; the man drew his sleeve
across his face, and stooping picked up the tankard. In that moment
some trick of movement revealed him, and Maltravers gasped "Zounds!
It's the Master himself."
And so it proved--to my bitter cost. Had I been coward enough to seek
to hide my identity, it would have been useless, for the silver rim of
my leather jack bore my name. Thus it came to pass that I stood, a
solitary figure, with none to say a word in my behoof before the Court
of Discipline.
I felt strangely forlorn and foolish as I made obeisance to the
President and his six venerable colleagues. I had no defence to offer
save that of drunkenness, and, being sober now, I was not fool enough to
plead that offence in mitigation of an offence still graver: so I held
my peace. The Court found me guilty--they could do none other; and in
sonorous Latin periods the President delivered sentence. I had no
degree of which they could deprive me: they were unwilling, as this was
my first appearance before the Court, to pronounce upon me a sentence of
permanent expulsion, but my grave offence must be dealt with severely.
I must make an apology in person to the Master; and I should be
rusticated for one year. I bowed to the Court, and then drew myself up
to let these grey-beards, who were shaking their heads together over the
moral delinquencies of the rising generation, see that I could take my
punishment like a man. The Proctor touched me on the arm; my gown
slipped from my shoulders. Then I felt humbled to the dust. I was
without the pale. The truth struck home and chilled my heart more than
all the ponderous Latin periods which had been pronounced over me.
The Court rose and I was free to go.
Out in the open, I was assailed by an eager crowd of sympathisers.
Youth is the age of generous and unreasoning impulses--and youth tends
ever to take the side of the condemned, whatever his offence. Belike it
is well for the world.