by John Galt
CHAPTER XXXIV
Having thus set forth the main passages in my grandfather's life, Ishould now quit the public highway of history, and turn for a time intothe pleasant footpath of his domestic vineyard, the plants whereof,under his culture, and the pious waterings of Elspa Ruet, my excellentprogenitrix, were beginning to spread their green tendrils and goodlybranches, and to hang out their clusters to the gracious sunshine, as itwere in demonstration to the heavens that the labourer was no sluggard,and as an assurance that in due season, under its benign favour, theywould gratefully repay his care with sweet fruit. But there is yet onething to be told, which, though it may not be regarded as germane to themighty event of the Reformation, grew so plainly out of the signalcatastrophe related in the foregoing chapter, that it were to neglectthe instruction mercifully intended were I not to describe all itscircumstances and particularities as they came to pass.
Accordingly to proceed. In the winter after the storming of DumbartonCastle, Widow Ruet, the mother of my grandmother, hearing nothing for along time of her poor donsie daughter Marion, had, from the hanging ofArchbishop Hamilton, the anti-Christian paramour of that misguidedcreature, fallen into a melancholy state of moaning and inward grief, inso much that Bailie Kilspinnie wrote a letter invoking my grandfather tocome with his wife to Crail, that they might join together in comfortingthe aged woman; which work of duty and of charity they lost no time inundertaking, carrying with them Agnes Kilspinnie to see her kin.
Being minded both in the going and the coming to partake of the feast ofthe heavenly and apostolic eloquence of the fearless Reformer'slife-giving truths, they went by the way of Edinburgh; and in goingabout while there to show Agnes Kilspinnie the uncos of the town, ithappened as they were coming down from the Castlehill, in passing theWeigh-house, that she observed a beggar woman sitting on a stairseemingly in great distress, for her hands were fervently clasped, andshe was swinging her body backwards and forwards like a bark without arudder on a billowy sea, when the winds of an angry heaven are let looseupon't.
What made this forlorn wretch the more remarkable was a seeming remnantof better days in something about herself, besides the silken rags ofgarments that had once been costly. For, as she from time to time liftedher delicate hands aloft in her despairing ecstasy, the scrap ofblanket, which was all her mantle, fell back and showed such lily andlady-like arms that it was impossible to look upon her withoutcompassion, and not also to wonder from what high and palmy estate shehad fallen into such abject poverty.
My grandfather and his wife, with Agnes, stopped for a moment, andconferred together about what alms they would offer to a gentlewomanbrought so low; when she, observing them, came wildly towards themcrying, "For the Mother of God, to save a famishing outcast from deathand perdition."
Her frantic gesture, far more than her papistical exclamation, madetheir souls shudder; and before they had time to reply, she fell on herknees, and taking Elspa by the hand, repeated the same vehement prayer,adding, "Do, do, even though I be the vilest and guiltiest ofwomankind."
"Marion Ruet!--O, my sister!--O, my dear Marion!" as wildfully and aswofully did my grandmother in that instant also cry aloud, falling onthe beggar-woman's neck, and sobbing as if her heart would have burst;for it was indeed the bailie's wife, and the mother of Agnes, thatsupplicated for a morsel.
This sad sight brought many persons around, among others a decentelderly carlin that kept a huxtry shop close by, who pitifully invitedthem to come from the public causey into her house; and with somedifficulty my grandfather removed the two sisters thither. AgnesKilspinnie, poor thing, following like a demented creature, not evenable to drop a tear at so meeting with her humiliated parent, who, fromthe moment that she was known, could only gaze like the effigy of someextraordinary consternation carved in alabaster stone.
When they had been some time in the house of old Ursie Firikins, as thekind carlin was called, Elspa Ruet all the while weeping like a constantfountain and repeating, "Marion, Marion!" with a fond and sorrowfultenderness that would allow her to say no more, my grandfather havinggot a drink of meal and water prepared, gave it to the famished outcast,and she gradually recovered from her stupor.
For many minutes, however, she sat still and said nothing, and when shedid speak it was in a voice of such misery of soul that my grandfathernever liked to tell what terrible thoughts the remembrance of it evergave him. I shall therefore not venture to repeat what she said, fartherthan to mention that, having sunk down on her knees, she spread herhands aloft and exclaimed, "Ay, the time's come now, and the words ofher prophecy, that never ceased to dirl in my soul, are fulfilled. Iwill go back to Crail--my penitence shall be seen in my shame;--I willgo openly, that all may take warning--and before all, in the face ofday, will I confess the wrongs I hae done to my gudeman and bairns."
She then rose and said to her sister, "Elspa, ye hae heard my vow, andthis very hour I will begin my pilgrimage."
Some further conversation ensued, in which she told them that she hadrun a woful course after the havock at St Andrews; but, though humbledto the dust, and almost perishing of hunger, pride had still warsledwith penitence, and would not let her return to seek shelter from hermother. "But at last," said she, "all has now come to pass, and it ismeet I submit to what is so plainly required of me." Then turning to herdaughter she looked at her for some time with a watery and inquiringeye, and would have spoken, but her heart filled full and she could onlyweep.
By way of consolation my grandfather told her they were then on theirway to Crail, and that as soon as they had procured for her some fitapparel, they would take her with them. At these words she lifted theskirt of her ragged gown, and looking at it for a moment, smiled, as ifin contempt of all things, saying,--
"No, this is the livery of Him that I hae served so weel. It is fit thatmy friends should behold the coat of many colours, and the garment ofpraise wherewith He rewards all those that serve Him as I hae done." Andno admonition, nor any affectionate petition, could shake her sadpurpose.
"But," said she, "I ought not to shame you on the road; and yet, Elspa,at least till the entrance of the town, let me travel with you; for whenI hae dreed my penance, we must part, never to meet again. Darkness anddule is my portion now in this world. I hae earnt them, and it is justthat I should enjoy them. They are my ain conquest, bought wi' the priceof everything but my soul, and wha kens but for this meeting that itmight hae been bartered away too."
In nothing, however, of all that then passed was there anything which somoved the tranquil heart of my grandfather as the looks which, fromtime to time, the desolate woman cast at her daughter. Fain she seemedto speak and to catch her in her arms; but ever and anon the sense ofher own condition came upon her, and she began to weep, crying, "No, no,I darena do that--I darena even mysel' to a parent's privilege afterwhat I hae done."
The poor lassie sat unable to make any answer; but at last, in a timidmanner, she took her mother softly by the hand, and the fond and lowlypenitent for a few moments allowed it to linger in her grip, willing tohave left it there; but suddenly stung by her conscience she snatched itaway, and again broke out into piercing lamentations and confessions ofunworthiness.
Meanwhile the charitable Ursie Firikins had made ready a mess ofporridge, and the mournful Magdalen being soothed and consoled, waspersuaded to partake. And afterwards, when they had sat some time, andthe crowd which had gathered out of doors in the street was dispersed,my grandfather went to his lodgings; and having paid his lawin, returnedto the two sisters and Agnes Kilspinnie, and they all walked to theshore of Leith together, where they found a boat going to Kinghorn, intowhich they embarked; and having slept there, they hired a cart to takethem to Crail next morning, everyone who saw them wondering at thedejected and ruinous appearance of the penitent. The particulars,however, of their journey and of her reception in her native place, willfurnish matter for another chapter.
