by John Galt
CHAPTER LIX
The decent, thoughtful, elderly man, who so kindly invited me to hishouse, was by name called Gideon Kemp; and as we were going towards ittogether, he told me of divers things that worthy Mr Swinton had nottime to do; among the rest, that the preaching I had fallen in with atthe linn, which should thenceforth be called the Covenanters' Linn, wasthe first taste of Gospel-fother that the scattered sheep of those partshad tasted for more than eight months.
"What's to come out o' a' this oppression," said he, "is wonderful tothink o'. It's no in the power of nature that ony government or earthlyinstitution framed by the wit and will of man can withstand a wholepeople. The prelates may persecute, and the King's power may back theiriniquities, but the day and the hour cannot be far off when both thepower and the persecutors will be set at nought, and the sense of whatis needful and right, no what is fantastical and arbitrary, govern againin the counsels of this realm. I say not this in the boast of predictionand prophecy, but as a thing that must come to pass; for no man can say,that the peaceful worshipping according to the Word is either a sin, ashame, or an offence against reason; but the extortioning of fines, andthe desolation of families, for attending the same, is manifestly guiltof a dark dye, and the Judge of Righteousness will avenge it."
As we were thus walking sedately towards his dwelling, I observed andpointed out to him a lassie coming running towards us. It was hisdaughter; and when she came near, panting and out of breath with herhaste she said--
"O, father ye manna gang hame;--twa of Carswell's men hae been speeringfor you and they had swords and guns. They're o'er the hill to the linn,for wee Willie telt them ye were gane there to a preaching."
"This comes," says the afflicted Gideon, "of speaking of secret thingsbefore bairns; wha could hae thought, that a creature no four years oldwould have been an instrument of discovery?--It'll no be safe now foryou to come hame wi' me, which I'm wae for, as ye're sae sorely weary't;but there's a frien o' ours that lives ayont the Holmstone-hill, aboonthe auld kirk; I'll convey you thither, and she'll gi'e you a shelterfor the night."
So we turned back, and again crossed the bridge before spoken of, andheld our course towards the house of Gideon Kemp's wife's stepmother.But it was not ordained that I was yet to enjoy the protection of araftered dwelling; for just as we came to the Daff-burn, down the glenof which my godly guide was mindet to conduct me, as being a lessobservable way than the open road, he saw one of Ardgowan's men comingtowards us, and that family being of the progeny of the Stuarts, wereinclined to the prelatic side.
"Hide yoursel," said he, "among the bushes."
And I den't myself in a nook of the glen, where I overheard what passed.
"I thought, Gideon," said the lad to him, "that ye would hae been at theconventicle this afternoon. We hae heard o't a'; and Carswell has swornthat he'll hae baith doited Swinton and Dunrod's leddy at Glasgow aforethe morn, or he'll mak a tawnle o' her tower."
"Carswell shouldna crack sae croose," replied Gideon Kemp; "for thoughhis castle stands proud in the green valley, the time may yet come whenhorses and carts will be driven through his ha', and the foul toad andthe cauld snail be the only visitors around the unblest hearth o'Carswell."
The way in which that gifted man said these words made my heart dinle;but I hae lived to hear that the spirit of prophecy was assuredly inthem: for, since the Revolution, Carswell's family has gone all todrift, and his house become a wastege;--folk say, a new road that'stalked o' between Inverkip and Greenock is to go through the verymiddle o't, and so mak it an awful monument of what awaits and willbetide all those who have no mercy on their fellow-creatures, and wouldexalt themselves by abetting the strength of the godless and the wrengthof the oppressors.
Ardgowan's man was daunted by the words of Gideon Kemp, and replied in asubdued manner, "It's really a melancholious thing to think that folkshould hae gane so wud about ministers and religion;--but tak care ofyoursel, Gideon, for a party of soldiers hae come the day to Cartsdyketo take up ony of the Rullion-green rebels that hae fled to thir parts,and they catcht, I hear, in a public in the Stenners, three men, andhave sent them to Glasgow to be hanged."
I verily thought my heart would at this have leapt out of my bosom.
"Surely," replied Gideon Kemp, "the wrath of government is no sounquenchable, that a' the misguided folk concernt in the rising aredoom't to die. But hae ye heard the names of the prisoners, or wherethey belong to?"
"They're o' the shire o' Ayr, somewhere frae the skirts o' Irvine orKilwinning; and I was likewise told their names, but they're no of afamiliarity easy to be remembered."
The horror which fell upon me at hearing this made me forget my ownperil, and I sprung out of the place of my concealment, and cried,--
"Do you ken if any of them was of the name of Gilhaize?"
Ardgowan's man was astounded at seeing me standing before him in soinstanter a manner, and before making any response, he looked at GideonKemp with a jealous and troubled eye.
"Nay," said I, "you shall deal honestly with me, and from this spot youshall not depart till you have promised to use nae scaith to this worthyman." So I took hold of him by the skirts of his coat, and added, "Ye'rein the hands of one that tribulation has made desperate. I, too, am arebel, as ye say, from Rullion-green, and my life is forfeited to theravenous desires of those who made the laws that have created ouroffence. But fear no wrong, if you have aught of Christian compassionin you. Was Gilhaize the name of any of the prisoners?"
"I'll no swear't," was his answer; "but I think it was something likethat;--one of them, I think, they called Finnie."
"Robin Finnie," cried I, dropping his coat, "he was wi' my brother; Icanna doubt it;" and the thought of their fate flooded my heart, and thetears flowed from my eyes.
The better nature of Ardgowan's man was moved at the sight of mydistress, and he said to Gideon Kemp,--
"Ye needna be fear't, Gideon; I hope ye ken mair o' me than to think Iwould betray either friend or acquaintance. But gang na' to the toun,for a' yon'er's in a state o' unco wi' the news o' what's being doingthe day at Cartsdyke, and every body's in the hourly dread and fear o'some o' the black-cuffs coming to devour them."
"That's spoken like yoursel, Johnnie Jamieson," said Gideon Kemp; "butthis poor man," meaning me, "has had a day o' weary travel among themoors, and is greatly in need of refreshment and a place of rest. Whenthe sword, Johnnie, is in the hand, it's an honourable thing to dealstoutly wi' the foe; but when forlorn and dejectit, and more houselessthan the beasts of the field, he's no longer an adversary, but a manthat we're bound by the laws of God and nature to help."
Jamieson remained for a short space in a dubious manner, and lookingmildly towards me, he said, "Gang you your ways, Gideon Kemp, and I'llne'er say I saw you; and let your friend den himsel in the glen, andtrust me: naebody in a' Inverkip will jealouse that ony of our housewould help or harbour a covenanted rebel; so I'll can bring him to someplace o' succour in the gloaming, where he'll be safer than he could wi'you."
Troubled and sorrowful as I was, I could not but observe the look ofsoul-searching scrutiny that Gideon Kemp cast at Jamieson, who himselfwas sensible of his mistrust, for he replied,--
"Dinna misdoot me, Gideon Kemp; I would sooner put my right hand in thefire, and burn it to a cinder, than harm the hair of a man that was inmy power."
"And I'll believe you," said I; "so guide me wheresoever you will."
"Ye'll never thrive, Johnnie Jamieson," added honest Gideon, "if ye'reno sincere in this trust."
So after some little farther communing, the worthy farmer left us, and Ifollowed Jamieson down the Daff-burn, till we came to a mill that stoodin the hollow of the glen, the wheel whereof was happing in the waterwith a pleasant and peaceful din that sounded consolatory to my hearingafter the solitudes, the storms and the accidents I had met with.
"Bide you here," said Jamieson; "the gudeman's ane o' your folk, but hiswife's a thought camstrarie at times, and before I
tak you into the millI maun look that she's no there."
So he hastened forward, and going to the door, went in, leaving mestanding at the sluice of the mill-lade, where, however, I had notoccasion to wait long, for presently he came out, and beckoned to mewith his hand to come quickly.
