"Ye hae a heap o' queer doctrines, sir."
"And yet you ask advice of me?"
"We haena ta'en muckle, ony gait," returned Bow o' meal rudely, and walked from the cottage.
Jeames Gentle and Blue Peter bade the master a kindly good night, and followed Bow o' meal.
The next Sunday evening Blue Peter was again at the Alton, accompanied by Gentle and another fisherman, not Bow o' meal, and had another and longer conversation with the schoolmaster. The following Sunday he went yet again; and from that time, every Sunday evening, as soon as he had had his tea, Blue Peter took down his broad bonnet, and set out to visit Mr Graham. As he went, one and another would join him as he passed, the number increasing every time, until at last ten or twelve went regularly.
But Mr Graham did not like such a forsaking of wives and children on the Sunday.
"Why shouldn't you bring Mrs Mair with you?" he said one evening, addressing Joseph first. Then turning to the rest—"I should be happy to see any of your wives who can come," he added; "and some of you have children who would be no trouble. If there is any good in gathering this way, why shouldn't we have those with us who are our best help at all other times?"
"'Deed, sir," said Joseph, "we're sae used to oor wives 'at we're ower ready to forget hoo ill we cud du wantin' them."
Mrs Mair and two other wives came the next night. A few hung back from modesty and dread of being catechized; but ere long about half a dozen went when they could.
I need hardly say that Malcolm, as soon as he learned what was going on, made one of the company. And truly, although he did not know even yet all the evil that threatened him, he stood in heavy need of the support and comfort to be derived from such truths as Mr Graham unfolded. Duncan also, although he took little interest in what passed, went sometimes, and was welcomed.
The talk of the master not unfrequently lapsed into monologue, and sometimes grew eloquent. Seized occasionally by the might of the thoughts which arose in him,—thoughts which would, to him, have lost all their splendour as well as worth, had he imagined them the offspring of his own faculty, meteors of his own atmosphere instead of phenomena of the heavenly region manifesting themselves on the hollow side of the celestial sphere of human vision,—he would break forth in grand poetic speech that roused to aspiration Malcolm's whole being, while in the same instant calming him with the summer peace of profoundest faith.
To no small proportion of his hearers some of such outbursts were altogether unintelligible—a matter of no moment; but there were of them who understood enough to misunderstand utterly: interpreting his riches by their poverty, they misinterpreted them pitifully, and misrepresented them worse. And, alas! in the little company there were three or four men who, for all their upward impulses, yet remained capable of treachery, because incapable of recognizing the temptation to it for what it was. These by and by began to confer together and form an opposition—in this at least ungenerous, that they continued to assemble at his house, and show little sign of dissension. When, however, they began at length to discover that the master did not teach that interpretation of atonement which they had derived—they little knew whence, but delivered another as the doctrine of St. Paul, St. Peter, and St. John, they judged themselves bound to take measures towards the quenching of a dangerous heresy. For the more ignorant a man is, the more capable is he of being absolutely certain of many things—with such certainty, that is, as consists in the absence of doubt. Mr Graham, in the meantime, full of love, and quiet solemn fervour, placed completest confidence in their honesty, and spoke his mind freely and faithfully.
CHAPTER LIV: ONE DAY
The winter was close at hand—indeed, in that northern region, might already have claimed entire possession; but the trailing golden fringe of the skirts of autumn was yet visible behind him, as he wandered away down the slope of the world. In the gentle sadness of the season, Malcolm could not help looking back with envy to the time when labour, adventure, and danger, stormy winds and troubled waters, would have helped him to bear the weight of the moral atmosphere which now from morning to night oppressed him. Since their last conversation, Lady Florimel's behaviour to him was altered. She hardly ever sent for him now, and when she did, gave her orders so distantly that at length, but for his grandfather's sake, he could hardly have brought himself to remain in the house even until the return of his master who was from home, and contemplated proposing to him as soon as he came back, that he should leave his service and resume his former occupation, at least until the return of summer should render it fit to launch the cutter again.
One day, a little after noon, Malcolm stepped from the house. The morning had broken gray and squally, with frequent sharp showers, and had grown into a gurly gusty day. Now and then the sun sent a dim yellow glint through the troubled atmosphere, but it was straightway swallowed up in the volumes of vapour seething and tumbling in the upper regions. As he crossed the threshold, there came a moaning wind from the west, and the water laden branches of the trees all went bending before it, shaking their burden of heavy drops on the ground. It was dreary, dreary, outside and in. He turned and looked at the house. If he might have but one peep of the goddess far withdrawn! What did he want of her? Nothing but her favour—something acknowledged between them—some understanding of accepted worship! Alas it was all weakness, and the end thereof dismay! It was but the longing of the opium eater or the drinker for the poison which in delight lays the foundations of torture. No; he knew where to find food—something that was neither opium nor strong drink—something that in torture sustained, and, when its fruition came, would, even in the splendours of delight, far surpass their short lived boon! He turned towards the schoolmaster's cottage.
Under the trees, which sighed aloud in the wind, and, like earth clouds, rained upon him as he passed, across the churchyard, bare to the gray, hopeless looking sky, through the iron gate he went, and opened the master's outer door. Ere he reached that of his room, he heard his voice inviting him to enter.
"Come to condole with me, Malcolm?" said Mr Graham cheerily.
"What for, sir?" asked Malcolm.
"You haven't heard, then, that going to be sent about my business? At least, it 's more than likely."
Malcolm dropped into a seat, and stared like an idol. Could he have heard the words? In his eyes Mr Graham was the man of the place—the real person of the parish. He dismissed! The words breathed of mingled impiety and absurdity.
The schoolmaster burst out laughing at him.
" feart to speyk, sir," said Malcolm. "Whatever I say, bun' to mak a fule o' mysel'! What in plain words div ye mean, sir?"
"Somebody has been accusing me of teaching heresy—in the school to my scholars, and in my own house to the fisherfolk: the presbytery has taken it up, and here is my summons to appear before them and answer to the charge."
"Guid preserve 's, sir! And is this the first ye hae h'ard o't?"
"The very first."
"An' what are ye gauin' to do?"
"Appear, of course."
"An' what 'll ye say to them?"
"I shall answer their questions."
"They 'll condemn ye!"
"I do not doubt it."
"An' what neist?"
"I shall have to leave Scotland, I suppose."
"Sir, it 's awfu'."
The horror stricken expression of Malcolm's face drew a second merry laugh from Mr Graham.
"They can't burn me," he said: "you needn't look like that."
"But there's something terrible wrang, sir, whan sic men hae pooer ower sic a man.