Inchbracken Part 30

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

_DISCOMFITED_.

Within the Post Office as well as in other places, there stood a group watching Roderick's departure, and among them, as might be supposed, was Joseph Smiley. It would have been a very unexpected event indeed that could have transpired in the village without his being there to see.

'I wuss we may na hae dune the laad some wrang,' sighed Angus Kilgour.

'He gangs like's he thocht nae shame, an' gin there cam few to bid him "Gude bi wi' ye," thae few war the first e'y land. See to the young Captain, hoo he's crackin' til Eppie an' the bairn 'at a' body said was merry-begotten. That looks like 's he didna think sae.'

'Hoot awa!' said Ebenezer, who had become a man of consequence through the prominent part he had taken in the minister hunt, and would tolerate no gainsaying. 'Hae na we scripter for't, Angus, 'at evil men an' seducers wax wa.r.s.e an' wa.r.s.e? An' think ye, 'at gin a chield was sae far left til himsel as yon puir laad maun hae been, he wad turn round that easy an' own til his fau't? Na, na! The De'il's a hard master 'at's aye wantin' mair service. An' as for puir Mester Brown, I'm sure I wuss him nae ill, but juist 'at he may be brocht til own til his transgressions. He's gangin' the gate o' thae wanderin' staars for whum is reserved the blackness o' darkness! I think naething o'

yer young Captain comin' to see him awa. He's been danderin' round him ilka day sin' he fell out wi' his flock, or sin' they _fand_ him out I suld say. He's juist a laad o' Belial 'at cares naething for the sauls o' hiz puir folk, (dizna he get a' the nails an' the pleughs an' the iron wark for the property doon by at Inverlyon?) an' he wants to pu'

down the wa's o' Zion. He's juist like Tobiah the Ammonite 'at fashed Nehemiah langsyne, but it's no a tod like him rinnin' on the wa's o'

our Jerusalem, 'at's gaun to kick them ower. An' as for the Laird comin' wi' his dochter, he's been sair left til himsel', but we a' ken he's pridefu' an' winna be direcket by puirer folk, an' that's what's made him sae camstairy. But I'm juist winnerin' 'at Mistress Sangster (an' sic a graand christian as she is!) lets him gang sic daftlike gates!'

Joseph listened to the harangue with respectful attention, looking approval but saying nothing. Instinctively he had the wisdom in conduct by which men have become Roman Popes or American Presidents.

If he had few friends, he gave no offence, and made no enemies. The friends are but broken reeds to lean upon in getting one in, but the _unfriends_ are omnipotent in keeping him out. It was popedom in a small way that Joseph contemplated, catechist being as great a rise in life for the Glen Effick beadle as Pope for the Archbishops and Princes of the Church. The emoluments, as stated by Mr. Geddie, were, of course, altogether inadequate, but then Free Trade principles were just about that time being established as the economic faith of the nation, and he understood perfectly that even Mr. Geddie, a merchantman in search of goodly pearls, felt disposed to dabble in the law of supply and demand, and if he could pick up a catechist at half price, would not 'feel justified' in paying him more. Economic piety is apt to be economical as well, and alas, alas, for the Church and the world! it is the spurious article for sale that is best able to haggle with the greedy religiousness that would buy. Saintly holiness is sent at half price to labour in the slums, while sensational pretence gets the velvet-mounted pulpit, the snug parsonage, and the comfortable living.

Joseph was not much of a letter writer. He never had had opportunity to practise the craft, or doubtless his pen would have grown as glib as his tongue. If he wrote to Mr. Geddie himself, his letter might stamp him illiterate, and consequently a half price article; and even if not, being but an obscure person, he could not hope to influence conveners, committees, contributors, and the rest of the sacred machinery in Mr. Geddie's church, whence the money was to come. He thought therefore to procure intercession. He would pet.i.tion Mrs.

Sangster to write on his behalf, and by and by he would ask Ebenezer to say a word in his favour, after he knew the lady's letter had been sent.

With this view he set out for Auchlippie, whither he had gone less frequently of late, fearing to compromise himself with Jean Macaulay.

As already said, Jean's expectations made her unquestionably 'a catch'

for the beadle, but Joseph found she might prove a millstone about the neck of a catechist. For Joseph was far-seeing. Such imaginative faculty as had been vouchsafed him was circ.u.mscribed within the hopes or possible achievements of Joseph Smiley, but within these bounds at times they soared! Once a catechist he might find favour in zealous and wealthy eyes, and he might be enabled to attend the Divinity Hall, whence he would issue a full-fledged minister. Favouring circ.u.mstances might work out so much for a bachelor, but who would undertake a man already weighted with a wife and family? Vulgar too! and unfit to a.s.sociate with the upper cla.s.ses as minister's wife! If, however, he should fail to secure any such enthusiastic person, and he knew they were rare, Jean would not be so far amiss as spouse to a catechist for life. The _placens uxor_ he could appreciate when more substantial considerations did not stand in the way, and her tocher would be 'a help,' and enable him, if still subordinate to the Established clergy and those of the Free Church, to hold his own with 'Seceder bodies'

(there were no U.P.'s in those days), 'Baptists, Methodists, and sic like.' At that time there was no word of voluntary principles in the Free Church, and it required a good many years 'in opposition,' as politicians would say, before it even was suggested to drop the twenty-third chapter of the Confession of Faith, and along with it the old feeling of superiority to the dissenting communions.

When Joseph reached Auchlippie, he was considerably taken aback by Jean's extreme coolness. He had been considering as he fared along, the exact degree of friendliness it would be prudent to show to Jean.

He must be kind but not quite fond, friendly but not intimate, with just a suggestion of the superiority which he hoped was hovering over him and he trusted might alight. Distinctly then, he felt taken aback by Jean's reception.

'Ye want to see the mistress? Gang intil the laundry than, an' set ye doon, an' whan I'm through here I'll gang ben an' speer gin ye can see her.'

'But I cud help ye to sh.e.l.l the peas, Jean.'

'Wha's seekin' yer help? Tak yer guttery shune out ower the clean kitchen, an' gang intil the laundry or I'se prin the dish-clout til yer tail! Think ye I haena gowks eneugh e'y stable-yard to sh.e.l.l my peas gin I wanted their help? Awa' wi' ye!'

Nothing like a little cool repulsion to draw on the young men when they begin to hang back. The cherries a little out of reach are always redder than those which hang ready to the hand. Looking at the buxom la.s.s and the saucy twinkle in her merry black eye, Joseph's foreseeing circ.u.mspection began insensibly to abate, or rather he forgot all about it.

'What ails ye, Jean, woman?' he poured out in his most insinuating tones, and his queer little eyes looked plaintive or nearly so. 'An'

me juist hungerin' for a glint o' yer bonny eyen!'

'Get out my gate, ye blatherin' skate!' with a jaunty toss of her head. It is pleasant to be appreciated, is it not? No matter by whom.

But she had no thought of relenting yet awhile. 'It's like's ye cudna bide awa frae me, ye leein' twa-faced body! It'll be four weeks come Thursday sin' I hae seen a sicht o' ye, an' I hae dune brawly wantin'

ye. Gae back to them ye saw last an' bide there. It's no Jean Macaulay 'at's wantin' ye. An' gang out ower the clean kitchen! See til the jaups o' glaar, about yer guttery trotters! Gang out ower, I'm sayin'!

or I'se lay the taings about yer cantle.'

'Whisht, woman! an' I'se tell ye a' about it,' said Joseph, sideling nearer. Then throwing the right arm round her waist, he drew up the left to protect his face from nails or accidents, and attempted to steal a salute.

Jean screamed and sprang aside, catching hold of a broomstick, and her face aflame with crimson wrath, ordered him out of the kitchen. At that moment an inner door opened and Mrs. Sangster stood on the threshold surveying the scene.

'Jean Macaulay! what is the meaning of this? Do you take my kitchen for a country tavern, to go touzelling with strange men in it in that unseemly way? When I engaged you I said distinctly that no followers were allowed.'

'There's nae touzellin' here, mem; an' what's mair, I winna hae 't said o' me by ony body, sae ye can suit yersel' wi' anither la.s.s 'at taks less tent o' her gude name nor I do! The man's nae follower o'

mine; it was yersel' he came speerin' for, sae I cudna tak on mysel'

to pet him out, an' syne the impident rascal he grippet me about the waist, an' I skirled, an' ye see the lave o't.'

'It's Joseph Smiley, the minister's man! I declare. What do you want?

You may well be ashamed, and hang your head! What will the session say? You, that ought to be an example of sober and G.o.dly deportment, to be raising a riot in a gentleman's kitchen!'

Joseph was abashed. All his bright schemes seemed to dissipate themselves before his eyes, like a morning mist, and he could only wish himself away. He coughed behind his hand, and stood balancing himself first on one foot, then on the other.

'I'm sair dumfoondered, mem!' he said at last. 'An' I'm thinkin' I juist canna be very weel. My head gaed clean soomin' ey noo, an' I cudna keep my feet, an' sae I out wi' my arm to catch something, an'

it was her I grippet, puir la.s.s. An' Jean, it's like she thocht it wasna mo-odest, an' sae she gae the bit skirl. But there was nae wrang intil't ava, mem, as ye may weel ken. Wad it be likely noo, mem, e'en gin I was ane o' the licht mindet kind, as a' the folk in Kilrundle Free Kirk kens weel I'm no', for me to be comin' intil the kitchen o'

the first leddy e'y laand, an' carryin' on wi' rigs, an' daffin', an'

touzellin's? Weel I wat, mem, ye'll own I hae mair sense nor that.'

Joseph's demeanor was so deeply humble, and his way of putting the case so respectfully argumentative that Mrs. Sangster was considerably mollified, but consistency required some continuance of rigour.

'I fear, Joseph Smiley, you must have been drinking this morning. That would explain the giddiness you describe, as well as your trying to steady yourself against Jean Macaulay, which was not like the conduct of a sober man. And, after all, from what you say, Jean's conduct seems to have been perfectly proper. So, Jean, I will not consider that you have given me notice to suit myself with a new maid until you say it again!'

'There's naething but a wheen parritch gane down my craig this day, mem, an' I'm wae 'at ye suld think sae ill o' me,' said Joseph, feeling his way back into the usual sanctimonious groove. 'I'm no'

weel, mem, an' I'm juist fear'd I'm no' lang for this world, an'

that's what's brocht me here this day. I cam seekin' a word o' ye, mem!'

'Then follow me, Joseph.'

Joseph followed, and laid before Mrs. Sangster the statement of his hopes and desires. 'I'm no' lang for this warld, mem, an' gin I cud do some gude first I wad be mair contented like, but they wad need to double the steepend, mem. I cudna gang for less.'

'If you are going to die so soon, Joseph, I should think the temporal reward would be of little consequence to you.'

'Ou ay, mem! But ye ken the labourer is worthy of his hire.'

'I should doubt your ability for the work, Joseph; and at any rate you must wait till your giddiness is cured. A giddy catechist, to judge from the scene in my kitchen to-day, might give rise to serious scandals! I know a person who will exactly suit Mr. Geddie, if the salary can be made sufficient; and I am much obliged to you, Joseph, for having brought me the information. You may rest a.s.sured too, Joseph, that if you will but do your duty with all your might, in the circ.u.mstances in which Providence has placed you, you are making the very best preparation for the great change which, sooner or later, will overtake us all.' And with this moral sentiment still ringing in his ears, Joseph found himself dismissed and on the gravel in front of the house, not only a disappointed, but an utterly discomfited man. He retraced his steps to the village, and went back to his joiner-work thinking how little good had come to him out of his idle morning.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

"_WOOED AN' MARRIED AN' A'_."

Joseph Smiley lived in a small cottage all by himself. It was not on the main street, but built in what should have been the back yard of a house on that thoroughfare, and was approached by a narrow pa.s.sage round the end of the house in front. It was just the place for any one who desired retirement, being extremely private, which, strangely enough, seems the great desideratum of all inquisitive people. Joseph was extremely expert in spelling out the affairs of his neighbours from external signs, and it may have been owing to that, that he kept his own life so studiously in the shade, knowing so well how much may be divined from pa.s.sing glimpses. He spoke of his home as 'juist the bit placey whaur he bed,' 'weel eneugh for a quiet lanesome chield like himsel', but no' fit to tak folk til,' which was scarcely doing it justice, seeing that it was perhaps the snuggest little cabin in the village; for Joseph was a Sybarite according to his lights. It was the best feather bed in the village on which he took his nightly rest, and there was a comfortably cus.h.i.+oned chair or two in which he might repose during the day. The cupboard contained pickles, spices, and a good many bottles; for his fare was dainty, and far different from the vigorous parritch on which he professed to subsist. Parritch may be said to have been the food of his imagination, for he continually spoke of it, but it was with something considerably more succulent that he nourished his material frame.

Yet Joseph enjoyed a high reputation for saving thrift.

This was owing to the fierceness of his principles, his tenacity in holding them, and the vigour with which he carried them out. There is nothing in the world so helpful as a clear understanding between a man and himself as to what it really is which he wants, and a consistent pertinacity in meaning to have it; and yet it seems even rarer than the self-knowledge so highly recommended. Think of the force wasted in desultory effort for the attainment of what is really not desired!