"Well," he said, "it is Saturday, and ye'll no' hear me playing the
nicht. On such a nicht one is too near the threshold of the Sabbath day
lichtly to engage in sic a worldly amusement. However, if ye'll come
round to my side of the loch about the usual time, we'll tak' a bite o'
supper together--after that ye'd better leave me to my meditations in
view of the Lord's Day, for I am preaching the morn."
"In which church, may I ask?" I said, forgetting for a moment where I
was.
"In the kirk of the moorland," he answered, "which has no roof but God's
heaven, and no altar but the loving hearts of men and women!"
A sudden desire sprang up in my heart. "Sir," I said, hesitatingly, "I
do not consider myself worthy, but I should count it a high honour if I
may come with you."
He paused before he answered: "The House is the Lord's, He turns no man
from His door: come, an you wish it." Then he laughed, and looking me
up and down said: "Man, but you're an awfu' sicht if you are coming. Ye
wadna like to appear before Lag in sic unsoldierly trappings: daur ye
face God?" Then he laid a hand on my shoulder, and looking into my face
with his piercing eyes, said: "The Lord tak's nae pleasure in the looks
o' a man, and belike he pays little heed to claes or the beggar at the
rich man's gate wouldna have had much of a chance; it is the heart that
counts, my lad, it is the heart, and a contrite heart He will not
despise." Then he gripped me by the hand, and said: "Awa to your bed
and come an' look for me by and by, and syne we'll set out for the kirk.
It is a long road to travel and ye'll need a good rest before we start."
So I left him and made my way back to my own side of the loch. There I
undressed and looked ruefully at my mud-bespattered garments. They
certainly were far from that soldierly spotlessness of which I had been
so proud when first I donned them. But the mud on them was quite dry,
so I made a heather brush, and brushed them well. Then I took them down
to the loch-side and washed out some of the more obstinate stains, then
laying them to dry among the brackens I sought my bed.
When I awoke night had fallen, so, leaving my hiding place, I sought my
garments and put them on.
I judged that it must be nearly ten o'clock as I went round the head of
the loch to seek my friend. I found him awaiting me at our
trysting-place and we ate our meal in silence. When we had finished, he
said: "Wait for me here; I will come again ere long," and disappeared
into the darkness. I sat in the starlit silence watching the moon's
fitful light move upon the face of the waters. Many thoughts passed
through my mind. I wondered what reception I, in a trooper's uniform,
would receive at the hands of the hill-men whom I was shortly to meet.
Would the guarantee of the minister be credential sufficient: then a
doubt assailed me. I knew that as a deserter I was under penalty of
death--but even a deserter, if captured, might still be pardoned; but to
have, as a further charge in the indictment against him, that of
consorting with proscribed hill-men and taking part in a Conventicle
would rob me of the last chance of pardon if I should ever fall into the
hands of my pursuers. For a moment I was tempted to withdraw from this
new adventure. Then I spurned myself for a coward. I owed my life to
the friendliness of this old man, who daily gave me so ungrudgingly of
his store, and I felt that it would be base and ungrateful to withdraw
now, since, after all, the invitation to accompany him was of my own
seeking.
The moments passed slowly, and I judged that more than an hour had
elapsed since he left me. I began to grow uneasy. Had he lost me in
the dark, or had he judged me unworthy to accompany him, and gone off
alone? I rose to my feet, determined to make a search for him, when I
heard the rustle of his footsteps, and in a moment he was beside me.
"Did you think I wasna comin' back?" he queried. "I have just been
wrestling with a point o' doctrine; but I've got the truth o't now.
Come!" and he set out along the hill-side.
He walked slowly, absorbed in deep meditation. I followed close on his
heels, seeking to make sure of my footsteps by keeping as near him as
possible. He seemed in no mood to talk, and I held my tongue.
When we had walked for two hours, he stopped suddenly and said: "We are
half-way there now. I think that we might take a rest," and he sat down
on a hummock on the hill-side.
I sat down beside him, and more by way of breaking the silence than from
any special desire to talk--for I had little to say, I remarked: "What a
beautiful night!"
He grunted, and in spite of the darkness I could see him shrug his
shoulders with displeasure.
"Wheesht, man," he said. "This is nae time to speak about sic things.
Have ye forgotten it is the Sabbath day?"
I was unprepared for such a rebuff, and a hot reply sprang to my lips,
but I felt unwilling to hurt his feelings, so I held my tongue.
He sat with his knees drawn up towards his chin, his clasped hands
holding them, and his eyes fixed on the distance.