There were many capable men in the session of the North Free Kirk,
Muirtown--such as Bailie MacCallum, from whom Drumsheugh bought Kate
Carnegie's wedding present after a historical tussle--but they were all
as nothing beside the Collector, and this was so well known in Muirtown
that people spoke freely of the Collector's kirk. When he arrived in
Muirtown, it was understood that he sampled six kirks, three Established
and three Free--the rumour about the Original Seceders was never
authenticated--and that the importance of his visits was thoroughly
appreciated. No unseemly fuss was made on his appearance; but an
ex-bailie, or the Clerk to the Road Trustees, or some such official
person, happened to meet him at the door, and received him into his pew
with quiet, unostentatious respect; and when he left, officious deacons
did not encompass his exit, rubbing their hands and asking how he liked
their place, but an elder journeying in the same direction entered into
general conversation and was able to mention with authority next day
what the Collector had said. Various reasons were canvassed for his
settlement in the North Kirk, where old Dr. Pitten-driegh was then
drawing near to the close of his famous exposition of the Epistle to the
Romans, published after the Doctor's death, and sold to the extent of
fifty-seven copies among the congregation. It was, for one thing, a
happy coincidence that on that occasion the Doctor, having taken an
off day from Romans, had preached from the text “Render unto Caesar the
things which are Caesar's,” and had paid a high tribute to the character
of a faithful servant of the Crown. Some importance, no doubt, also
attached to the fact that the Procurator Fiscal sat in the “North Free,”
austere and mysterious, whose power of detecting crime bordered on the
miraculous, and whose ways were veiled in impenetrable darkness, so
that any one with a past felt uncomfortable in his presence; and it was
almost synonymous with doom to say of a man, “The Fiscal has his eye on
him.” Perhaps it was not without influence that the Supervisor, who was
the Collector's subordinate, with power also of official life and death,
had long sat under Dr. Pittendriegh--the Doctor and the Collector were
indeed the only persons the Supervisor did sit under. He had admirable
opportunities of enlarging to the Collector on the solid and edifying
qualities of Dr. Pittendriegh's ministry, and the unfortunate defects
in the preaching and pastoral gifts of neighbouring ministers, in the
intervals of business, when the two of them were not investigating into
the delinquencies of some officer of excise, who had levied a tax on the
produce of Dunleith Distillery not only in money but also in kind; or
concocting cunning plans for the detection of certain shepherds who were
supposed to be running an entirely unlicensed still in the recesses of
Glen Urtach. It was at least through this official, himself an elder,
that the Collector's decision was intimated to the Doctor and the other
authorities of the North Kirk, and they lost no time in giving it
proper and irrevocable effect The Supervisor set an example of patriotic
sacrifice by surrendering his pew in the centre of the church and
retiring to the modest obscurity of the side seats, so that the
Collector could be properly housed; for it was not to be thought of for
a moment that he should sit anywhere except in the eye of the public,
or that ordinary persons--imagine for instance young children--should be
put in the same pew with him. So he sat there alone, for he had neither
wife nor child, from January to December, except when on his official
leave--which he took not for pleasure but from a sense of duty--and he
gave a calm, judicial attention to all the statements put before him
by the preacher. Very soon after this arrangement the Doctor discovered
that the Deacons' Court required strengthening, and, as a man of
affairs, the Collector was added at the head of the list; and when
a year later a happy necessity compelled an election of elders, the
Collector was raised to this higher degree, and thereafter was “thirled”
to the North Free, and the history of that kirk and of the Collector
became one.
What exactly the great man collected, or what functions and powers might
be included in his office, were not matters Muirtown pretended to define
or dared to pry into. It was enough that he was, in the highest and
final sense of the word, Collector--no mere petty official of a
local body, but the representative of the Imperial Government and
the commissioned servant of Her Majesty the Queen, raised above
principalities and powers in the shape of bailies and provosts, and
owning no authority save, as was supposed, the Chancellor of the
Exchequer. For any one to confound him with the collector of, say, water
rates was either abysmal ignorance or, it might be, although one hoped
not, a piece of Radical insolence and a despising of dignities. It was
good manners to call him by his title--many would have had difficulty in
mentioning his private name, which was, I believe, Thomas Richard Thome,
just as the Queen's, I believe, is Guelph--and it was pleasing to hear
a porter at the station shout, amid a crowd of tourists going to the
Kilspindie Arms, “Collector's cab”; or Bailie MacCallum on the street,
“Fine morning, Collector”; and one did not wonder that the session of
the “North Free” exalted its head when this kind of thing went on at
its meetings: “Moderator, with your permission, I would like to have
the mind of the Collector”; and then in reply, “Moderator, my views
practically coincide with those of the Fiscal” And there were dinner
tables, such as old Peter MacCash's, the manager of the Muirtown Bank,
where conversation reached a very high level of decoration, and nothing
could be heard save “Sheriff,” “Provost,” “Collector,” “Town Clerk,”
“Fiscal,” “Banker,” “Doctor,” “Dean of Guild,” and such like, till an
untitled person hardly dared to defend his most cherished opinion.
As the movements of Government officials were always mysterious, no one
could tell whence the Collector had come, but it was known to a few
that he was not really of Scots blood, and had not been bred in the
Presbyterian Kirk. When his hand in the way of Church rule was heavy
on the “North Free” and certain sought anxiously for grounds of revolt,
they were apt to whisper that, after all, this man, who laid down the
ecclesiastical law with such pedantic accuracy and such inflexible
severity, was but a Gentile who had established himself in the true
fold, or at most a proselyte of the gate. They even dared to ask what,
in the matter of churches, he had been before he was appointed to
Muirtown; and so unscrupulous and virulent are the mongers of sedition,
as every student of history knows, that some insinuated that the
Collector had been a Nonconformist; while others, considering that
this violence could only overreach itself, contented themselves with
allusions to Swedenborg. Most of his brethren treated him as if he had
been within the covenant from the beginning, and had been granted the
responsible privilege of Scots birth either because in course of time
they had forgotten the fact of alien origin in face of every appearance
to the contrary, or because, as we all need mercy, it is not wise to
search too curiously into the dark chapters of a man's past.
Upon his part the Collector had wonderfully adapted himself to the new
environment, and it defied the keenest critic to find in him any trace
of a former home. It is true that he did not use the Scots dialect,
merely employing a peculiarly felicitous word at a time for purposes
of effect, but he had stretched his vowels to the orthodox breadth, and
could roll off the letter “r” with a sense of power. “Dour” he could
say in a way that deceived even the elect Sometimes he startled the
Presbytery with a sound like “Yah, yah,” which indicates the shallow
sharpness of the English, instead of “He-e-er, he-e-er,” which reveals
as in a symbol the solidity of the Scot; but then one cannot live in
London for years--as an official must--and be quite unscathed; and
an acute observer might mark a subdued smartness in dress--white tie
instead of stock on sacrament Sabbaths--which was not indigenous; but
then it must be allowed that one in his position was obliged to be, to
a certain degree, a man of the world. No one ever caught him quoting a
clause from the Prayer-Book on the rare occasions when he was heard at
his family devotions, or breaking into a riotous “Hallelujah” in the
midst of a sermon. If misfortune had thrown him into Episcopalian or
Methodist folds in earlier years, he had since been thoroughly purged
and cleansed. He had a way of alluding to “the Disruption principles
laid down in 1843,” or “my younger brethren will allow me to say that
the Disruption,” which was very convincing; and on the solitary occasion
when he made a set speech in public--for his strength lay in silence
rather than eloquence--he had a peroration on our “covenanted
forefathers” which left an indelible impression. It was understood that
he spent his holidays in visiting remote districts of the Highlands
where the people took strong peppermints in church without scruple or
apology, and preserved the primeval simplicity of Presbyterian worship
entire; and it was supposed that he was looking for a birthplace which
would finally establish his position as an elder of the Kirk.
What gave the Collector his supreme influence in the session of the
Free North, and extended his sphere of ecclesiastical influence to the
Presbytery of Muirtown, was an amazing knowledge of Church law and a
devouring love for order. The latter may have been the natural outcome
of his professional training, wherein red-tape has been raised to a
science, but the former was an acquired accomplishment Dr. Pittendriegh
remembered almost painfully that on the day of his election to the
eldership the Collector enquired the names of the most reliable
authorities on Church law, and that he (Dr. Pittendriegh) had not only
given him a list, but had urged him to their study, judging from past
experience that no man was likely to go too far in the pursuit of this
branch of knowledge. For a while the Collector sat silent and observant
at the meetings of Session, and then suddenly one evening, and in the
quietest manner, he inquired whether a certain proceeding was in order.
“Well, at any rate, that is how we have done here for twenty years,”
said the Doctor, with just a flavour of indignation, and the startled
Fiscal confirmed the statement.
“That may be so, Moderator, and I am obliged to Mr. Fiscal for his
assurance, but you will pardon me for saying, with much respect, that
the point is not whether this action has been the custom, but whether it
is legal. On that, Moderator, I should like your deliverance.”
He took the opportunity, however, of showing that only one deliverance
could be given by long quotations from Church law, supported by
references which extended back to the seventeenth century. Every one
knew that, unlike his distinguished colleague in Muirtown Dr. Dowbiggin,
the minister of the Free North was more at home in Romans than in Canon
Law; but, like every true Scot, he loved a legal point, and he not only
announced at next Session meeting that the Collector was quite right,
but expressed his satisfaction that they had such a valuable addition
to their number in the Collector. His position from that evening was
assured beyond dispute; and when the Clerk of Session resigned on the
ground of long service, but really through terror that there might be
a weak place in his minutes, the Collector succeeded, and made the
proceedings of the Free North Session to be a wonder unto many. It was
a disappointment to some that, when the Collector was sent to the
Presbytery, he took no part for several meetings; but others boldly
declared that even in that high place he was only biding his time, which
came when the Presbytery debated for one hour and ten minutes whether a
certain meeting had been _pro re nata_ or _in hunc effectum_, while the
learned Clerk listened with delight as one watches the young people at
play.
“Moderator,” said the Collector, “I have given the most careful
attention to the arguments on both sides, and I venture to suggest that
the meeting was neither _pro re nata_ nor _in hunc effectum_, but was a
meeting _per saltum_”; and, after referring to Pardovan's Institutes,
he sat down amid a silence which might be felt Several ministers openly
confessed their ignorance one to another with manifest chagrin, and one
young minister laughed aloud: “_Per saltum_, I declare--what next?” as if
it were a subject for jesting.
“The Collector is quite right, Moderator,” said the Clerk with his
unspeakable air of authority; “the meeting referred to was undoubtedly
_per saltum_, but I did not wish to interfere prematurely with the
debate”; and from that date the Clerk, who used to address his more
recondite deliverances to Dr. Dowbiggin as the only competent audience,
was careful to include the Collector in a very marked and flattering
fashion.
While it was only human that his congregation should be proud of the
Collector, and while there is no question that he led them in the paths
of order, they sometimes grumbled--in corners--and grew impatient under
his rule. He was not only not a man given to change himself, but he
bitterly resented and resisted to the uttermost any proposal of change
on the part of other people. What was in the Free North, when he, so
to say, mounted the throne, was right, and any departure therefrom he
scented afar off and opposed as folly and mischief. There are men whom
you can convince by argument; there are others whom you can talk round
on trifles; but whether the matter were great or small--from Biblical
criticism, on which the Collector took a liberal line, to the printing
of the congregational report, where he would not allow a change
of type--once his mind was made up he remained unchangeable and
inaccessible. He prevented the introduction of hymns for ten years, and
never consented to the innovation on the ground of the hold which the
metrical psalms had upon Presbyterians from their earliest days, and
he did succeed in retaining that remarkable custom of the Scots Kirk
by which a communicant cannot receive the Sacrament without first
presenting a leaden token, and his argument was again the sacred
associations of the past He did certainly agree to the recovering of
the pulpit cushions, which the exposition of Romans had worn bare, only
however on the assurance of Bailie MacCallum, given officially, that he
had the same cloth in store; but a scheme for a ventilating chamber in
the roof--an improvement greatly needed in a church which was supposed
to have retained the very air of the Disruption--he denounced as an
irresponsible fad.
He gave much watchful attention to the Sabbath schools--“Sunday” was
a word he abhorred--and between the Collector and the younger people
engaged in that work there was almost constant conflict, which extended
to every detail, and came to a head over the matter of entertainments.
It was their belief that once a year it was necessary for the success
and well-being of a Sabbath school that the children should be gathered
on an evening and fed with tea and buns, and afterwards elevated
by magic slides representing various amusing situations in life and
concluding with a vivid picture of rats disappearing into a gaping man's
mouth, which opened to receive them with a jerk. The fact that this
festivity was opened and closed with a hymn in no way sanctified it in
the eyes of the Collector, who declared it to be without any Scripture
warrant and injurious to true religion, as well as--and this was hardly
less important--quite without sanction by the laws of the Kirk. By sheer
force of will--the weight of a silent, obstinate uncompromising nature,
he brought the “treats”--very modest, innocent, if not particularly
refined efforts to give some brightness to the life of the poor children
in Muirtown--to an end, and in place thereof he provided, at his own
expense, views of the mission stations of the world, with a gratuitous
distribution of missionary literature. This was endured for three years
with much discontent and with sudden and disorderly demands for the
rats in place of the interesting although somewhat monotonous faces of
Chinese Christians, and then the rebellion was organized which had so
unexpected and felicitous a result The party of the Juniors, some of
them approaching forty years of age, took a covenant that they would
stand by one another, and they made their plan that upon a certain
evening in March they would gather together their corps of Muirtown
Arabs and feed them with dainties even unto the extent of raisins and
oranges. They were not unconscious that oranges, on account of their
pronounced colour, would be an offence to the Collector, and that that
estimable man had already referred to this fruit, as a refreshment at a
religious meeting, in terms of deep contempt; and there would not only
be a magic lantern with scenes of war and sport, to say nothing of
amusement, but also a sacred cantata to be sung by the children. When
the Collector heard of the programme, he grasped the situation at once,
and knew that in the coming battle quarter could not be given--that the
“Reds” would be completely reduced to subordination, or that a severely
constitutional monarchy would be finally closed. This was indeed the
general opinion; and when the Juniors appeared before the Session to
present their ultimatum, nothing but a sense of decency prevented the
Free North attending in a body, and Bailie MacCallum took a gloomy view
of the issue.
“Oranges and the what-ye-call-it,” alluding to the cantata, “the
Collector 'll never stand, and ye couldna expect him.”
Dr. Pittendriegh was now _emeritus_3, which means that he had retired
from the active duty of the ministry and was engaged in criticising
those who were still in the yoke; and many pitied young Mr. Rutherford,
brother of Rutherford of Glasgow, who had to preside over so critical a
meeting. His prayer was, however, favourably received by both sides, and
his few remarks before calling on the leader of the “Reds” were full of
tact and peace. As for that intrepid man--grocer by trade and full of
affability, but a Radical in politics and indifferent to the past--he
discharged a difficult duty with considerable ability. For himself and
his friends he disclaimed all desire to offend any one, and least of all
one whom every one respected so much for his services both to Church and
State--both the Bailie and Fiscal felt bound to say “hear, hear,” and
the Collector bowed stiffly--but they must put the work they had carried
on in the Vennel before any individual: they were dealing with a poor
and neglected class of children very different from the children in
grand houses--this with some teethiness. They must make religion
attractive, and show that they were interested in the children's lives
as well as their souls. None of them could see anything wrong in a cup
of tea or a bit of music; and if the Session was to forbid this small
pleasure, he and his friends would respectfully resign the position they
had held for many years, and allow the elders to carry on the work on
any plan they pleased.
There was a faint rustle; the Bailie gave a low whistle, and then the
Collector rose from the table, where he sat as clerk, removed the gold
eyeglass from his nose with much deliberation, coughed slightly, and
waving his eyeglass gently with his left hand, gave his deliverance.
He acknowledged with somewhat cold courtesy the generous expressions
regarding any slight services he had been allowed to render in his dual
capacity, and he desired to express his profound sense of the devotion
with which his friends on the other side, if he might just for
the occasion speak of sides, carried on their important work.
His difficulty, however, was this--and he feared that it was
insuperable--Christian work must be carried on in accordance with sound
principles, by the example of the Bible and according to the spirit of
the Scots Kirk. He was convinced that the entertainments in question,
with the accompaniments to which he would not further allude in this
place, were quite contrary to the sound and solid traditions which were
very dear to some of them, and from which he ventured to hope the Free
North Church of Muirtown would never depart. If the Session should take
another view than that of his humble judgment, then nothing would remain
for him but to resign his position as Session Clerk and Elder. There was
general consternation on the faces of his brethren, and even the Juniors
looked uncomfortable, and the Moderator did wisely in adjourning the
meeting for a week.
The idea was some kind of compromise; but no one was particularly
hopeful, and the first essays were not very encouraging. It was laid
on the Bailie to deal with the leader of the insurgents, for the sound
reason that, as every class has its own freemasonry, one tradesman was
likely to know how to deal with another. No man had a more plausible
tongue, as was well known in municipal circles, and the Bailie plied
the grocer with the arguments of expediency: that the Collector was an
ornament to the Free North; that any disruption in their congregation
would be a sport to the Philistines; that if you offended the Collector,
you touched the Fiscal and the other professional dignitaries; that it
would be possible to go a good way in the direction that the insurgents
desired without attracting any notice; and that the Collector... “Well,
ye see, Councillor”--for the grocer had so far attained--“there's bound
to be changes; we maun be prepared for that. He's failin' a wee, an'
there's nae use counterin' him.” So, with many shrugs and suggestions,
the astute politician advised that the insurgents should make a nominal
submission and wait their time. Then the Councillor informed the Bailie
that he would fight the battle to the end, although the Collector should
join the Established Kirk, and Bailie MacCallum knew that his labour had
been all in vain.
It was the Fiscal who approached the Collector, as was most meet, and
he considered that the best time was after dinner, and when the two were
discussing their second glass of port “That's a sound wine, Collector,
and a credit to a Muirtown firm. Remarkable man, old Sandeman;
established a good port in Scotland and invented a new denomination,
when to save my life I couldn't have thought of another.”
“So far as I can judge, I do not think that Sandemanianism is any credit
to Muirtown. How any Scots Kirkman can sink down into that kind of thing
passes me. But the wine is unexceptionable, and I never tasted any
but good wine at your table; yet I suppose young men would prefer
claret--not the rich claret Scots gentlemen used to drink, but that
feeble Gladstone stuff,” and the Collector wagged his head in sorrow
over the decadent taste of the day.
“I quite agree with you, Collector, but you know _de gustibus_; and when
the young fellows do me the honour of dining with me, I let them have
their claret: there must be give and take between the seniors and
juniors, eh, Collector?”--this with some adroitness.
“There I venture to disagree with you, Fiscal,” and the Collector's face
hardened at once. “It is the young who ought to yield to the old; I see
no reason why the old should give in to the young; if they do, the end
will be anarchy in Church and State.”
“There is a great deal in what you say, Collector; but have you never
been afraid that if we of the old school refuse to make any concessions,
we shall simply lose our influence, and things will be done foolishly,
which, with our help, might have been done wisely?”
“If there be one word I detest, it is 'concessions'; they are ruinous,
both in the Civil Service and in the Church; and it just comes to
this, Fiscal: if you yield an inch, you must yield a yard. Nothing will
preserve order save resistance from the beginning, _obsta principiis_,
yes, _obsta principiis._.”
The Fiscal recognised the expression on the Collector's face, and knew
that it was useless to continue the subject, and so his labour was also
in vain.
It only now remained that the minister should try his hand upon this
inflexible man, and one of the urgent duties of his pastoral office
hindered him until the evening before the meeting. During the last
few days Rutherford had been trying to get the key to this type of
character, and had been touched by the Collector's loneliness. Without
wife or child, engaged in routine year by year, moving in a narrow set
of officials or ecclesiastics, he had withered and contracted till he
had become a mere pedant. People spoke of his narrowness and obstinacy.
They were angry with him, and would not be sorry to teach him a lesson.
The minister's heart was full of pity and charity; and, so optimistic is
youth, he believed that there must be springs of emotion and romance
in the old man; but this faith he did not mention to the Bailie or the
Fiscal, considering, with some reason, that they would put it down as
a foolish dream, and be inwardly much amused. As he stood before the
Collector's residence, as it was called in the _Muirtown Advertiser_,
his pity deepened, and he seemed to be confirmed in his compassion.
The Collector did not live in rooms or in a small “house as did other
bachelors, for this would be unworthy of his position, and a reflection
on the State; but he must needs live in a house on the North Meadow.
The large drawing-room lay unused and empty, since no ladies came to
the house; and of the bedrooms only three were furnished--one for his
servants, one for himself, and another a guest-room, which was never
occupied save by some Government official from London on inspection, or
a minister attending the Presbytery. The Collector was eager to secure
Rabbi Saunderson, but that learned man, of absent mind, was apt to
forget that he had been invited. The dining-room was a bare, sombre
room, where the Collector took his meals in solitary state and
entertained half a dozen men to simple but well-cooked dinners, after
which the tablecloth was removed from the polished dark mahogany, and
the sound old port coasted round in silver slides. As the minister
entered the dimly lit lobby everything seemed to him significant and
eloquent: the middle-aged housekeeper with her air of severe propriety;
the hat-stand, with no careless, unkempt exuberance of undress hats,
shooting caps country sticks, but with two silk hats only--one for good
weather and Sundays, one for bad and funerals; a bamboo cane, with
an ivory and silver head of straight and unadorned pattern; and two
coats--one for cold, one for milder temperature. His sitting-room, where
he spent his unofficial time, seemed to the minister that evening the
very embodiment of the man--a physical shape, as it were, revealing his
character. There was no comfortable disorder of papers, books, pipes,
which sets one at ease in some rooms. Everything had its place; and
the daily paper, after having been read, was sent down to the kitchen,
unless there was some news of an unedifying description, in which case
it was burned. Instead of a couch whereon one could lie and
meditate after dinner on the problems of existence, there were two
straight-backed armchairs, one on each side of the fireplace. The
bookcase had glass doors, and one could read the titles on one shelf:
_The Incidence of the Income Tax, The Abolition of the Malt Duty, Rules
for the Collectors of H.M. Inland Revenue, Practice of the Free Church
of Scotland, Abstract of the Acts of Assembly 1700 to 1840, and The
Elders Manual_. The Collector was reading another book of the same
genial and exhilarating class, and the minister noticed its contents
with some dismay, _The Authority of Kirk Sessions_; but the Collector
was quite cordial (for him).
“I am much pleased to see you, Mr. Rutherford, and should be gratified
if your onerous duties allowed you to call more frequently; but I never
forget that while our hours in the service of the Queen are, as a rule,
fixed, yours, in a higher service, have no limit Do not, I pray you, sit
there; that is in the draught between the door and the fire: here,
if you will be so good, opposite me. Well, sir, how is your work
prospering?”
The minister explained that he had intended to call sooner, but had been
occupied with various cases of sickness, one of which had touched him
closely. The people were not in the Collector's district; but perhaps he
might have noticed them: they sat before him in church.
“Do you refer to a couple who have come quite recently, within a year,
and who, as I judge, are newly married; they are interesting young
people, it seemed to me, and most attentive, as I can testify to their
religious duties.”
“Yes, the same. They were engaged for many years--a love affair of
childhood, and they have been married less than eight months. They
have a beautiful little home at Craigie, and they simply lived one for
another.”
“I can believe that, Mr. Rutherford; for I may mention that on one
occasion, when you touched on love in appropriate and... somewhat moving
terms, I happened to notice, without espionage I trust, that the wife
slipped her hand into her husband's, and so they sat until the close
of the sermon. Has trouble come to them?” and the Collector looked
anxiously at the minister over his spectacles.
“Very dangerous and sudden trouble, I am sorry to say. Last Monday Mrs.
Fortune was prematurely confined, and I... don't understand about these
things; but the doctor considered it a very bad case.”
“There had been complications, I fear; that sometimes happens, and, I
don't know why, often with those whose lives are most precious. How is
she? I earnestly hope that she... that he has not lost his bride.” And
Rutherford was struck by the anxiety and sadness in the Collector's
voice.
“It was feared he might, and I have never seen any man so utterly broken
down; and yet he kept calm for her sake. On Wednesday I stayed with him
all the afternoon, and then I returned for the night after the prayer
meeting.”
“You were never more needed, be sure of that, sir; and is there hope
of her recovery? I pray God, if it be His will, that the young wife be
spared. Sitting before me has given me... an interest in the case.” The
Collector felt as if he must apologise for his unusual emotion.
“Their own doctor took a gloomy view, but they called in Dr. Manley. If
there's real danger of death in Muirtown, or a radius of twenty miles,
people must have Manley. And when he came into the parlour--you know his
brusque, decided way--Manley turned to poor Fortune, who couldn't say
one word, only look.”
“It is, Mr. Rutherford, I will dare to say, the bitterest hour in all
human sorrow”--the Collector spoke with strong feeling--“and Dr. Manley
said?”
“'You thought you were going to lose your wife. No wonder; very bad
case; but you're not, please God you're not. Dr. Gellatly knows his
business. Mrs. Fortune will get better with care, mark me, immense
care.' That's his way, you know, Collector; then Fortune... well, lost
command of himself. So Manley went on,--'with care and skill; and
Gellatly will see to that.'”
“God be praised!” exclaimed the Collector. “How many Dr. Manley has
comforted in Muirtown! yet all medical skill is of no avail sometimes.
But you have said nothing of the child.”
“Manley was very doubtful about it--a girl, I think--and that is the
only danger now with Mrs. Fortune. She is always asking for the child,
which she has not seen; and so long as the news are good she is
satisfied; but if the baby dies, it will go hard with the mother.
Collector,” cried Rutherford suddenly, “what mothers suffer, and how
they love!”
The Collector took off his spectacles and examined them carefully, and
then he wiped his eyes.
“When can the doctors be certain about the child, Mr. Rutherford?”
“Dr. Manley is going again this evening, and we hope he will be able to
give a good report I intended to call after seeing you; for if all be
well, we would return thanks to God; and if... the child is not to live,
there will be the more need of prayer. You will excuse me, Collector?”
“Go at once, sir, and... do you mind me going with you--just to the
door, you know? I would sleep better to-night if I knew mother and child
were safe.” And the Collector was already moving to the door as one in
haste.
“It is very good of you, Collector, and Fortune will value your
sympathy; but there is something I called to talk about and in my
concern about Mrs. Fortune I... quite forgot it. It's about that
unfortunate Sabbath-school entertainment.”
“It's of no importance beside this trial--none whatever. Let us not
delay, and I'll hear you on the other matter as we cross the South
Meadow.”
So Rutherford was hustled out of the house in growing amazement.
“Let me say, first of all, Collector, that we are all much concerned...
“Who could be otherwise, my good sir, if he had a heart in his
bosom--only eight months married, and in danger of being separated.
Mother and child taken, and the husband... left desolate... desolate for
life!”
“If you could see your way,” resumed Rutherford, after a respectful
pause, and still harking back to the dispute, “to do anything...”
“Why did you not say that before? Only tell me; and if it be in my
power, it shall be done. May I undertake the doctor's fees, or arrange
with the nurse--through you of course, and in any way that will be in
keeping with their feelings? Command me; I shall count it more than a
privilege--a duty of pity and... love.”
“It was not the Fortunes I was thinking of,” said Rutherford; “but
that can be left over. It is kind of you to offer help; they are not,
however, in need of pecuniary assistance. Fortune has a good post in the
railway. He's a first-rate engineer and a rising man. But if you cared
to send flowers...”
“I am obliged to you for the hint, and I'll attend to this to-morrow
morning.” (The invalid had a fresh bouquet every day for a month.)
“No, I will not go in. Just present my compliments and sympathy to Mr.
Fortune. Here is my card, and... I'll just wait for the bulletin, if you
would be so good as to come with it to the door.”
“Baby's going to live too, and Manley says she will be a thumping big
child in a few months!”
“Thank God, Mr. Rutherford! You cannot imagine how this incident has
affected me. I'll go home now, and as I cross through the dark-ness of
the Meadow my humble thanksgiving will mingle with yours, that in this
home it has been God's pleasure to turn the darkness... into light.”
The voice of the Collector was charged with emotion, and Rutherford
was confirmed in his romantic belief, although it seemed as if he had
laboured in vain in the affair of the Sabbath school.
It was known before the meeting of that evening that no compromise had
been effected; and when the Collector rose to speak, his face and manner
charged with solemnity, it was felt that a crisis in the Free North had
arrived. He began by saying that the subject of last meeting had never
been long out of his thoughts, and that he had now arrived at a decision
which commended itself to his judgment, and which he would submit with
all brevity.
“Moderator”--for the Collector's historical utterance must be given
in his own words--“if a man lives alone for many years, through the
providence of God, and has come almost to the limit of ordinary human
life as set down by the Psalmist, he is apt to become censorious and
to be out of sympathy with young people; and if I have erred in this
respect, you will kindly assign it to the habits of my life, not to the
feelings of my heart.”
There was so much gracious tenderness and unaffected humility in the
Collector's tone that the grocer--unless roused, himself the most
generous of men--wished to rise and withdraw the oranges instantly,
and to leave the other details of tea and cantata absolutely to the
Collector's decision, but was checked by the Moderator.
“So far, therefore, as I am concerned, I beg, Moderator, to withdraw all
opposition to the programme of my excellent friends, and I do so with
all my heart; but, with your permission, I must annex one condition,
which I hope my good friends will see their way to grant.”
“Whatever the Collector wants shall be done!” burst in the Councillor,
with chorus of applause from his side.
“Mr. Councillor must not be too rash lest he be caught in a snare,”
resumed the Collector facetiously, “for I am contemplating an
innovation. However agreeable an evening entertainment in winter may be
to the Vennel children, it appears to me that it would be even better
for them to go to the country and admire the works of the Creator.
There is a beautiful spot, only some twelve miles from here, which few
Muirtown people have seen. I refer to the Tochty woods, where are the
graves of Bessie Bell and Mary Gray, and my condition is that in the
height of summer our poor Muirtown children be driven there and spend a
long summer's day on the grass and by the river. I have only to add
that if this proposal should meet with my friends' and my colleagues'
approval, I shall count it a privilege and, er... honour to defray the
cost.” And for the first time in his public life the Collector sat down
covered with confusion as with a garment The Tochty excursion came off
on midsummer day, and is now a chapter of ancient history, to which what
remains of the “Old Guard” turn back with fond recollection; for though
the things reported were almost incredible in Muirtown, yet were they
all less than true. How there had been preparation in the unsavoury
homes of the Vennel for weeks before, with the result that the children
appeared in such spotless cleanliness and varied gaiety of attire that
the Councillor was filled with pride, and the Collector declared that
they looked like ladies and gentlemen. How the Collector was himself
dressed in a light-grey summer suit, with a blue tie and a soft
hat--this was never believed in his “Collection,” but could any one have
invented it?--and received many compliments on his appearance from all
sides. How he had provided a barouche from the Kilspindie Arms for the
Councillor and his wife, as chiefs of the school, and for his guests the
Fortunes, whose baby crowed triumphantly half the way, and smiled in her
sleep the other half; but the Collector travelled on the box-seat of the
first break with the children--I tremble while I write--through the main
streets of Muirtown. How the Collector had arranged with Bumbrae, the
Free Kirk elder of Drumtochty, to supply every one on arrival with a
pint of sweet, fresh milk; and how a quarrel arose in the end of the
days between the town and country elders because Bumbrae gave the bairns
a pint and a half at the price of a pint, and was never brought to a
state of repentance. How almost every game known to children in ancient
and modern times was played that day in Tochty woods, and the Collector
patronised them all, from “tig” to “jingo-ring,” with great access
of popularity, if not conspicuous proficiency. How they all gathered
together in front of the Lodge before leaving, and the Councillor--he
has since risen to be Lord Provost--made the great speech of his life in
proposing a vote of thanks to the Collector; and the Collector, to save
himself from breaking down, called for three cheers in honour of the
Councillor, and led them himself. And how they drove back past Kilbogie
in the pleasant evening-time, and at the dispersing half the children
of the Vennel shook hands with H.M. Collector of Inland Revenue for
Muirtown.
The Collector returned home, his heart full of peace, and went to a
certain closet of his bedroom, wherein was a box he had not opened for
forty years. Within it lay a bridal dress, and an unfinished set of baby
clothes, with a needle still fastened in the hem of a garment And the
Collector wept; but his tears were half sorrow and half joy, and he did
not sorrow as one who had no hope.