Inchbracken Part 26

'Surely, Mr. Sangster, in view of the heavy responsibility we yesterday undertook, it is not well to encourage our brother in hardening his heart!'

'What responsibilities have you undertaken, Mr. Geddie?' asked Roderick; 'and who has laid them upon you?' I have listened to your reading and your exhortation, which I a.s.sume are meant for my benefit, but you have not condescended to explain their object, and I am at a loss to understand what it is you want.'

Mr. Geddie looked to his two a.s.sociates, appalled at such persistence, and sadly shook his head. The a.s.sociates shook their heads also, and looked uncomfortable. They were aware from the att.i.tude of the Laird that there was a certain degree of thinness as yet in their case, when it came to be stated in detail without inference and insinuation; and they had been hoping that the solemn exercises in which they had engaged were to move the sinner to repentance and compel him to confess his fault. For they began to fear it might be hard for the present to prove the fault, and would have preferred to be left only the easier parts, rebuking the offender, and figuring before the Church as its zealous and victorious champions. The silence continued.

Mr. Geddie had been dwelling on the moral and emotional aspects of the case, rather than the circ.u.mstantial. To his excellent, and even devout, but far from legal mind, the question had appeared to be one of sin, repentance, and church discipline; the more secular considerations of guilty or not guilty, facts, proofs, and probabilities, had never occurred to him at all. The case had been presented to him by persons whom he believed to be excellent and of sound evangelical views, and he had never dreamed of questioning what they said, revising the grounds of their suspicions, or asking what there might be to urge on the other side. When, therefore, the defendant requested, as it were, to hear the indictment against him, his thoughts and ideas had to be called in from the wide and very different field over which they were scattered, and brought to bear on a different and entirely new aspect of the case. While he had been deeply moved and interested in the case, viewed as one of established ill-doing, and had thought out very fully the relations of the church to the sinner and the sin, he found that his mind had entirely left out of consideration the grounds on which the accusation had been based, and that if it came to discussing the question of guilty or not guilty, he knew nothing about it and had nothing to say. It is not to be supposed, however, that on that account he believed any the less utterly in the guilt of the accused. He felt that he could not discuss it, being unprepared; but his mind, though well-meaning and incapable of intentional disingenuousness, was of the tenacious rather than that facile and self-styled candid order which, because it is incapable of taking strong hold, and is easily moved by every fresh suggestion, claims to be dispa.s.sionate and judicial. This man had been represented to him by what he considered good authority, as a sinner, and a sinner he would continue to regard him till irrefragable proof or higher authority declared the reverse. Mr. Geddie, therefore, kept silence under the new aspect of the case. He was clearly ent.i.tled to do so, seeing that in a question of circ.u.mstance, a paris.h.i.+oner with local knowledge must be able to speak with more understanding than a stranger, even though an ordained minister. On Ebenezer it naturally devolved to speak. He straightened himself in his seat, opened his mouth even and drew in the needful breath; but while he considered how the 'winged words' ought to arrange themselves, the vital wind escaped unmodulated from the doubting chest. A henpecked person, his verbal ventures had so often come to grief, that he had learned so to think and think, before he hazarded an utterance, that the opportunity, the breath, and even the idea were generally gone before he had strung himself to the utterance. The duty, therefore, fell to Peter Malloch, on whom no suspicion of henpecking could rest, as witness the mild apologetic sister who sometimes waited in the shop, and the meek old mother who was always st.i.tching s.h.i.+rts for him, and spoke of him as the Convener;--and then there was no wife.

Peter cleared his voice and leant forward. Nothing could have pleased him more than thus to hold forth before a minister and the Laird; a success might lead to his being admitted to the elders.h.i.+p, and would certainly add to his weight in the church, so he resolved to do himself justice.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

_MORE FAITHFULNESS BUT LESS LOVE_.

'We have been compelled, sir,' said Peter Malloch, and he fixed his eyes sternly on the tie of Roderick's cravat (he would have liked to frown into the face of the culprit, and to wither him up with the sternness of his regard, but the amused astonishment in his eyes was discomposing). 'Me, that's to say an' Mester Prittie there, or may be I suld say the Deacons' Court an' the Elders.h.i.+p, though they arena a'

Israel that are _of_ Israel. An' there was a Tummas even amang the Apostles,' (and here he glanced reproachfully at the Laird). 'Aweel, sir, to come to the tail o' 't at ance, we hae just been haudin' a bit meetin' wi' the Presbytery, as ane micht say, or wi' twa o' the ministers ony gate, to consider yer terrible on-gaein's, Mester Brown!

An' I'm just fairly dumfoundered to see the brazen effrontery o' ye, man! To be sittin' there an' glowerin' frae ye, as though ye had dune nae wrang, when the hale glen's ringin' wi' the din o' yer iniquities, an' the enemies o' the truth's lachin' i' their sleeve, an' cryin'

aha! as they pa.s.s on the ither side. An' we hae been app'inted, hiz four that is, though I'm feared we hae gotten an enemy amang us 'at's no takin' kindly t'ey wark' (another glance at the Laird), 'a Gallio 'at cares for non _of_ thase things, to ca' on ye an' to dale faithfully wi' ye anent yer transgressions. We're wullin' to dale wi'

ye in luve, my brither, my little brither, I micht say; for I can mind ye a bit hafflin callant no lang syne; an' we'll allow 'at youth's ill to haud e'y strecht gate, an' 'at flesh is waik; we'll allow a' that, an' dale wi' ye in a' kindness for yer saul's sake, but ye maun e'en mak a clean breast o' 't, an' speak out afore waur comes o' 't. It's a' kenned! Sae just up an' own til't, for we're busy folk, me and Ebenezer here, an' we hae nae mair time to waur on parryin' an'

senseless havers. Ye beut to repent o' yer misdeeds, seeing they're a'

fand out, and the very first step is to confess them. Sae out wi' 't a' like a gude laud, for ye can be nae mair a minister, an' the less fash an' din ye mak ower't noo, the less ill ye'll do to the kirk ye hae disgraced.'

'What do you mean? demanded Roderick, beginning to flush indignantly.

'State what it is you accuse me of! You appear to have found me guilty and condemned me already, without troubling yourselves to try me; but if you wish me to confess anything, you must at least state your accusation.'

'An' winna ye take my word for it, 'at a' is kenned 'at ye hae dune?

An' wull ye gar folk gang ower yer shame word for word, afore the very face o' yer auld father there? Him 'at was sae gude a man, for a' he was a Moderate, lookin' doon on ye frae the wa'! I'm mis...o...b..in' but he couldna lie still e'y moulds this day, gin he kenned o' yer on-gaein's!'

'Mr. Sangster!' exclaimed Roderick, 'this is growing intolerable! I must request you to state the purpose of these persons' visit. What do they accuse me of? And on what grounds? They seem unable themselves to say intelligibly what is their errand.'

'I certainly will not soil my lips,' said the Laird, 'with anything so outrageous as well as absurd; and I am not surprised that even in the midst of this ridiculous scene, they should have sufficient sense left, and good feeling, to make it difficult for them to clothe their preposterous accusation in words. Forgive them, and overlook the whole escapade. It is the wisest and kindest thing to do.'

'Mr. Sangster!' remonstrated Mr. Geddie, 'I do think, and you must permit me to say, that your language is not judicious. Even although in your overflowing charity, which I admit is beautiful and refres.h.i.+ng to see, and will no doubt be fruitful of blessing to your own soul, you are still (though I confess it seems unaccountable to me) persuaded of the innocence of (alas, that I should have to use the words!) our erring brother, even you must admit that there prevails in this parish a _fama clamosa_ of the most crying and distressing kind, affecting the moral character of the misguided young man whom the Presbytery has set over it for the present to minister to it in spiritual things. His teaching may be within the letter of the Standards. I am thankful to say I have heard nothing of false doctrine and soul-destroying error; but, alas! his example is not what it ought to be! His teaching may be orthodox, his head knowledge of the mysteries not to be impugned; but if the heart is wrong, if his walk and conversation are not convenient, if his conformity to common morality is not what it should be, we must rebuke and chasten him till he repents of his evil life,--we must cut off the withered branch, and cast it out of the vineyard. Oh! my brother!' he cried, 'repent and confess! Put an end to this clamour! Enable us to bring the matter before the Presbytery in such form that it may be able to deal with it promptly if sharply, and without delay. Why should this clamour of indignation go forth over all Scotland to put us to shame?'

'Say what it is you accuse me of, Mr. Geddie. I certainly shall confess if I am guilty.'

'Alas! my brother! Will you still hide your head in a bush like the ostrich, and believe yourself concealed? Think you that the pursuer will overpa.s.s thus easily? I tell you nay! But if you will force us to discuss in detail your lamentable backslidings, tell us how the infant which you lately presented for baptism, and which, as I understand, you continue to nourish under this roof--tell us how it came into your hands.'

'The child was saved almost miraculously from a s.h.i.+pwreck, I believe.

At least I saw the s.h.i.+p perish, and afterwards picked up the child on the sea-sh.o.r.e near the place, where it appeared to be the only living thing that had come to land. Being impatient to get home, and yet bound to render succour to the little one, I picked it up and brought it home with me, rather than carry it the four miles back to Inverlyon, where the bodies of the drowned were conveyed later in the morning, when the fishermen and coastguard had made their rounds. From the clothing of the child, as well as from reading in the newspapers that the s.h.i.+p was an East Indiaman, I believe that it is the child of some Indian officer who has perished in the wreck, and I have advertised in an Edinburgh newspaper regarding the child, but have received no communication or enquiry from any one whatever; but I cannot imagine how any _fama_ can have arisen in the parish over such a matter, which can only be looked on, I should imagine, as an ordinary exercise of Christian charity.'

'Hech!' sighed Ebenezer, 'but he sticks til't weel! But, I'm sayin', sir, Wasna some o' yer ain folk i' the Indies? An' wasna there siller an' gear cam to ye frae there? I'm thinkin' I mind hearin' tell o'

kists o' plenissin' an' bonny things 'at was brocht t'ey auld manse frae there awa.'

'Certainly. I had an uncle who died in India and left his property to my mother.'

'Aweel, then, the claes 'at ye say cam wi' the bairnie wad pruive naething, sin ye had plenty sic like e'y house. Ye micht just hae dressed up the puir thing in ony auld duds ye fand i' thae kists. But what o' the bairnie's mither, sir? Tell's about Tibbie Tirpie!'

'Tibbie Tirpie? What connection is there between her and the baby?'

'Mither an' bairn, I'm thinkin'; or sae the folk say.'

'They must be mad! or most abominable slanderers to trifle so with the good name of a decent young woman.'

'An' ye ken naething about it, minister?' demanded Peter; 'an' wull ye really be for haudin' to that when I have seen ye slidin' hame frae there mysel' after dark? Ye _ken_ ye gaed there ae forenicht, it was Sawbith by the same token, an' ye gied them siller, ye ken that! to gar them keep a calm sough. I hae had that siller through my ain fingers, sae ye needna deny't!'

'Deny what? Deny that I gave charity to widow Tirpie? Why should I?

She is poor and deserving, I believe, and I gave to her as I hope I should give to any other in like case, so long as I had it to give, and the recipient appeared to need it.'

'An' what was't ye gae her, sir? Was na't a note? It's braw crackin'

about _charity!_ an' a bawbee til a puir body, or aiblins a penny gin ye haena the change is a G.o.dly ac'; but folk dinna part wi' their pund notes that lichtly!'

'I regret to observe, Peter, that my ministrations have made so little impression on your memory. Let us hope my successor may be more blest.

Have you forgotten the words of David? "Shall I offer to the Lord of that which cost me nothing?" Or of another, "Sell that which thou hast and give to the poor?" The gift of the bawbee would show little self-sacrifice in either you or me!'

'Speak for yersel', sir! I hae muckle fash gatherin' the bawbees 'at ye lichtly sae; an' I care na to waur mony o' them on a curran f.e.c.kless gowks, 'at suld be garred get for themsel's; but I'm thinkin'

it's the ither gate wi' you an' yer like--easy come easy gang. Arena we a' payin' intil the Sustentation Fund? An' ye hae naething to do but tak yer share, an' read yer books an' crack til's. My certie, but it's a braw tred the preachin'! But I'm just winderin' hoo ye can gar't gree wi' yer principles, 'at whan ye gie sae muckle, ye dinna support mair the tred o' them 'at's contreebutin' to support yersel'!

We're no a' beggars i' Glen Effick, but gin a' body did as ye do, there's Mester Prittie an' mysel micht tak t'ey beggin' afore lang for a' the tred we'd do.'

'As to that, Peter, we live in a free country. You take your Gospel in any church you have a mind to, and no one has a right to gainsay your choice; and so, also, my sister buys her groceries where she thinks proper. As it happens, she continues, I believe, to buy them mostly in Inverlyon, where her mother bought them before her. And as to the people in the Glen having a claim to our custom, because they contribute to the Sustentation Fund, and I am paid out of it, I can only say that I distribute among them all I receive from that source, and more, though I make no merit of it. I have lived on my own means ever since I have been among you. My residence, however, is drawing to an end. My physician warns me, it will be at the risk of my life if I remain here during the winter. I have been unwilling to follow his advice, believing it my duty to remain and labour while strength lasted; but after this conversation and the state of feeling in the parish which it betrays, I see clearly that all hope of usefulness for me here is at an end, and so soon as I am sufficiently recovered, I shall go. The discovery that such suspicions are entertained against me, coming too so suddenly and unexpectedly, is deeply painful; but if I am to suffer, it is a consolation to know that it is for my good deeds, and not for evil. Saint Peter's words, which Mr. Geddie there can point out to you, are my a.s.sured consolation.'

'Ye maunna be thinkin', sir,' urged Ebenezer, somewhat overawed by the bold front and indignant tone a.s.sumed by Roderick, whom he had expected to see humbled in the dust, in tearful penitence, and for whose benefit he had actually prepared a little speech full of superior pity, to be delivered before taking leave, 'ye maunna be thinkin' 'at there's nae evidence against ye but the pund note 'at Peter there has traced. The first o't cam frae Inchbracken, I'm thinkin', frae the very castle o' the persecutors; for the puir la.s.s gaes working up there whiles, I'm thinkin'. An', oh sir! but it was an ill-faured trick o' ye, 'at ye wad expose our shame an' our nakedness up yonder!--tellin't in Gath, as a body micht say, publis.h.i.+n' 't in Askelon! An' ye beut to confess afore ye gang, sir, an' mak reparation to the puir la.s.s, an' syne ye an' her micht begin ower again, whaur ye wisna kenned, an' ye micht do weel yet, afore ye dee!'

'I must protest,' said Mr. Geddie, 'against removal out of the parish at present! though it is only right that your ministrations should cease. Brother Dowlas will have seen the Moderator of the Presbytery ere now, and I doubt not a _pro re nata_ meeting is already called to investigate this terrible _fama_. The case will be taken up forthwith, and it would be a fleeing from discipline, which you are aware, my poor brother, is a most serious ecclesiastical offence, were you to remove yourself beyond the bounds. The law of the Church requires that you should be tried and put to open shame, that your soul may be saved. Accept the chastening in a fitting spirit. And oh! my brother!

confess! confess! if peradventure the publicity and the discredit which it will bring upon the Church be averted!'

Roderick rose to his feet. 'Enough! Mr. Geddie,' he said. 'I can permit no more of this! I have told you how the innocent cause of this misunderstanding came into my hands, and I cannot consent to hear my statements treated as falsehood in my own study. I would say more, but I know well that when you come at last to perceive the truth of the case, there is no man living who will be more ashamed of his acceptance of a preposterous calumny.'

Mr. Geddie would have made still another heart-moving appeal to the sinner to confess, but the Laird had risen, so too had Peter and Ebenezer, and he found himself borne along to the door. With a last great cry he raised his hands aloft, and as he crossed the threshold he exclaimed--'Ephraim is joined to his idols! Let him alone!'

CHAPTER XXIX.

_CONSULTATION_.

The Laird returned into the room with Roderick, and it was well that he did so. But for his st.u.r.dy arm the young man would have fallen; and, as it was, he dropped breathless and trembling into the nearest chair. Weakened by his illness, the agitation had nearly overcome him, and, but for the salutary presence of the Laird, might have found some hysterical mode of relief. As it was, the pain in his side had returned with renewed violence, he gasped for breath, and, with the Laird's a.s.sistance, had to throw himself on his bed.

He, who believed he had been striving after so lofty an ideal, who had been leading, and as he fondly hoped with some success, the majority of his flock towards the same high standard, to be thus cast down!

What must his walk and conversation really have been, notwithstanding his approving conscience, that he should so lightly have been suspected of such abominable hypocrisy and vulgar debauchery? He groaned as he thought of it; his temples burned, and, despite the presence of a stranger, the tears at last oozed abundantly through the fingers which he had pressed against his eyes.

The Laird flourished his large silk handkerchief, bepatterned over in yellow and crimson like a small carpet. He coughed, he blew his nose like a trumpet, and then he crumpled up the handkerchief and mopped his eyelids in a very suspicious way. 'Hoots! Mr. Roderick!' he said, while he laid his enormous paw as tenderly on the young man's forehead as Mary might have done. 'Never mind, man! A set of born idiots! But you answered them well, lad, and n.o.body with any sense that knows you will care a snap o' the thumb for all their havers. Keep up your heart, man! There's n.o.body whose good opinion is worth the having will think a bit the worse of you. Just leave them alone, and if their whole case does na fall to pieces like a girdless tub, my name's no James Sangster! A set o' senseless pridefu' bodies! that dinna ken which end o' them's uppermost for pure conceit!'

Mary came in presently, and behind her was Captain Kenneth. He had ridden over to enquire for his old friend Roderick (that was how he worded it), and arrived just after the 'deputation' had been admitted to the study. Mary received him, and led him for the present 'ben the house,' where Eppie, and the baby, and herself were holding a little conclave of their own. The conference in the adjoining room naturally furnished a subject of conversation. Mary was indignant and bitter, but not very precise; and Kenneth imagined that Roderick had become unhinged in his theology, and was being set up as a mark to sling at by all the orthodox in the parish, and expressed himself more freely than reverently on polemical hair-splitting, even girding somewhat at the Heads.h.i.+p, the pet doctrine of the Free Church, but here Eppie's patience broke down.