Hunted and Harried, Robert Michael Ballantyne [an ebook reader .TXT] 📗

of a relative in power. The second was a mean-spirited wolf in sheep's clothing, who, like his compatriot Archbishop Sharp, had sold his kirk and country as well as his soul for what he deemed some personal advantage. As may well be supposed, neither of those curates was a shining light in the ministry.

"Missed again! I find it as hard to beat you, Lawless, as I do to get my parishioners to come to church," exclaimed the Reverend Frank with a good-humoured laugh as his quoit struck the ground and, having been badly thrown, rolled away.

"That's because you treat your quoits carelessly, as you treat your parishioners," returned the Reverend George, as he made a magnificent throw and ringed the tee.

"Bravo! that's splendid!" exclaimed Selby.

"Not bad," returned Lawless. "You see, you want more decision with the throw--as with the congregation. If you will persist in refusing to report delinquents and have them heavily fined or intercommuned, you must expect an empty church. Mine is fairly full just now, and I have weeded out most of the incorrigibles."

"I will never increase my congregation by such means, and I have no wish to weed out the incorrigibles," rejoined Selby, becoming grave as he made another and a better throw.

At that moment our fugitive shepherds, dashing round the corner of the manse, almost plunged into the arms of the Reverend Frank Selby. They pulled up, panting and uncertain how to act.

"You seem in haste, friends," said the curate, with an urbane smile.

"Oot o' the fryin'-pan into the fire!" growled Quentin, grasping his staff and setting his teeth.

"If you will condescend to explain the frying-pan I may perhaps relieve you from the fire," said Selby with emphasis.

Wallace observed the tone and grasped at the forlorn hope.

"The dragoons are after us, sir," he said eagerly; "unless you can hide us we are lost!"

"If you are honest men," interrupted the Reverend George Lawless, with extreme severity of tone and look, "you have no occasion to hide--"

"Bub we're _not_ honest men," interrupted Quentin in a spirit of almost hilarious desperation, "we're fannyteeks,--rebels,--Covenanters,--born eediots--"

"Then," observed Lawless, with increasing austerity, "you richly deserve--"

"George!" said the Reverend Frank sharply, "you are in my parish just now, and I expect you to respect my wishes. Throw your plaids, sticks, and bonnets behind that bush, my lads--well out of sight--so. Now, cast your coats, and join us in our game."

The fugitives understood and swiftly obeyed him. While they were hastily stripping off their coats Selby took his brother curate aside, and, looking him sternly in the face, said--"Now, George Lawless, if you by word or look interfere with my plans, I will give you cause to repent it to the latest day of your life."

If any one had seen the countenance of the Reverend George at that moment he would have observed that it became suddenly clothed with an air of meekness that was by no means attractive.

At the time we write of, any curate might, with the assistance of the soldiers, fine whom he pleased, and as much as he pleased, or he might, by reporting a parishioner an absentee from public worship, consign him or her to prison, or even to the gallows. But though all the curates were in an utterly false position they were not all equally depraved. Selby was one who felt more or less of shame at the contemptible part he was expected to play.

When the troopers came thundering round the corner of the manse a few minutes later, Quentin Dick, in his shirt sleeves, was in the act of making a beautiful throw, and Will Wallace was watching him with interest. Even the Reverend George seemed absorbed in the game, for he felt that the eyes of the Reverend Frank were upon him.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," said the officer in command of the soldiers, "did you see two shepherds run past here?"

"No," answered the Reverend Frank with a candid smile, "I saw no shepherds run past here."

"Strange!" returned the officer, "they seemed to enter your shrubbery and to disappear near the house."

"Did you see the path that diverges to the left and takes down to the thicket in the hollow?" asked Selby.

"Yes, I did, but they seemed to have passed that when we lost sight of them."

"Let me advise you to try it now," said Selby.

"I will," replied the officer, wheeling his horse round and galloping off, followed by his men.

"Now, friends, I have relieved you from the fire, as I promised," said the Reverend Frank, turning to the shepherds; "see that you don't get into the frying-pan again. Whether you deserve hanging or not is best known to yourselves. To say truth, you don't look like it, but, judging from appearance, I should think that in these times you're not unlikely to get it. On with your coats and plaids and be off as fast as you can--over the ridge yonder. In less than half-an-hour you'll be in Denman's Dean, where a regiment of cavalry would fail to catch you."

"We shall never forget you--"

"There, there," interrupted the Reverend Frank, "be off. The troopers will soon return. I've seen more than enough of hanging, quartering, and shooting to convince me that Presbytery is not to be rooted out, nor Prelacy established, by such means. Be off, I say!"

Thus urged, the fugitives were not slow to avail themselves of the opportunity, and soon were safe in Denman's Dean.

"Now, Lawless," said the Reverend Frank in a cheerful tone, "my conscience, which has been depressed of late, feels easier this evening. Let us go in to supper; and _remember_ that no one knows about this incident except you--and I. So, there's no chance of its going further."

"The two rebels know it," suggested Lawless.

"No, they don't!" replied the other airily. "They have quite forgotten it by this time, and even if it should recur to memory their own interest and gratitude would seal their lips--so we're quite safe, you and I; quite safe--come along."

Our travellers met with no further interruption until they reached Edinburgh. It was afternoon when they arrived, and, entering by the road that skirts the western base of the Castle rock, proceeded towards the Grassmarket.

Pushing through the crowd gathered in that celebrated locality, Quentin and Wallace ascended the steep street named Candlemaker Row, which led and still leads to the high ground that has since been connected with the High Street by George the Fourth Bridge. About half-way up the ascent they came to a semicircular projection which encroached somewhat on the footway. It contained a stair which led to the interior of one of the houses. Here was the residence of Mrs. Black, the mother of our friend Andrew. The good woman was at home, busily engaged with her knitting needles, when her visitors entered.

A glance sufficed to show Wallace whence Andrew Black derived his grave, quiet, self-possessed character, as well as his powerful frame and courteous demeanour.

She received Quentin Dick, to whom she was well known, with a mixture of goodwill and quiet dignity.

"I've brought a freend o' Mr. Black's to bide wi' ye for a wee while, if ye can take him in," said Quentin, introducing his young companion as "Wull Wallace."

"I'm prood to receive an' welcome ony freend o' my boy Andry," returned the good woman, with a slight gesture that would have become a duchess.

"Ay, an' yer son wants ye to receive Wallace's mither as weel. She'll likely be here in a day or twa. She's been sair persecooted of late, puir body, for she's a staunch upholder o' the Covenants."

There have been several Covenants in Scotland, the most important historically being the National Covenant of 1638, and the Solemn League and Covenant of 1643. It was to these that Quentin referred, and to these that he and the great majority of the Scottish people clung with intense, almost superstitious veneration; and well they might, for these Covenants--which some enthusiasts had signed with their blood--contained nearly all the principles which lend stability and dignity to a people-- such as a determination to loyally stand by and "defend the King," and "the liberties and laws of the kingdom," to have before the eyes "the glory of God, the advancement of the kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, the honour and happiness of the King and his posterity, as well as the safety and peace of the people; to preserve the rights and privileges of Parliament, so that arbitrary and unlimited power should never be suffered to fall into the hands of rulers, and to vindicate and maintain the liberties of the subjects in all these things which concern their consciences, persons, and estates." In short, it was a testimony for constitutional government in opposition to absolutism.

Such were the principles for which Mrs. Black contended with a resolution equal, if not superior, to that of her stalwart son; so that it was in a tone of earnest decision that she assured her visitors that nothing would gratify her more than to receive a woman who had suffered persecution for the sake o' the Master an' the Covenants. She then ushered Wallace and Quentin Dick into her little parlour--a humble but neatly kept apartment, the back window of which--a hole not much more than two feet square--commanded a view of the tombstones and monuments of Greyfriars' Churchyard.


CHAPTER SIX.


TELLS OF OVERWHELMING REVERSES.

Mrs. Black was a woman of sedate character and considerable knowledge for her station in life--especially in regard to Scripture. Like her son she was naturally grave and thoughtful, with a strong tendency to analyse, and to inquire into the nature and causes of things. Unlike Andrew, however, all her principles and her creed were fixed and well defined--at least in her own mind, for she held it to be the bounden duty of every Christian to be ready at all times to give a "reason" for the hope that is in him, as well as for every opinion that he holds. Her natural kindness was somewhat concealed by slight austerity of manner.

She was seated, one evening, plying her ever active needle, at the same small window which overlooked the churchyard. The declining sun was throwing dark shadows across the graves. A ray of it gleamed on a corner of the particular tombstone which, being built against her house, slightly encroached upon her window. No one was with the old woman save a large cat, to whom she was in the habit of addressing occasional remarks of a miscellaneous nature, as if to relieve the tedium of solitude with the fiction of intercourse.

"Ay, pussie," she said, "ye may weel wash yer face an' purr, for there's nae fear o' _you_ bein' dragged before Airchbishop Sherp to hae yer thoombs screwed, or yer legs squeezed in the--"

She stopped abruptly, for heavy footsteps were heard on the spiral stair, and next moment Will Wallace entered.

"Well, Mrs. Black," he said, sitting down in front of her, "it's all settled with Bruce. I'm engaged to work at his forge, and have already begun business."

"So I see, an' ye look business-like," answered the old woman, with a very slight smile, and a significant glance at our hero's costume.