Betty Grier Part 11

Joe seldom mentions her name. When he cam' back this time I asked him if his wife wasna vexed to pairt wi' him when the time cam' for him to leave, an' he said he didna ken, for he didna see her. "Ye didna see her!" said I. "Hoo was that?" "Oh," said he, "she was busy at her wark up the stairs, so I cried to her that I was away, an' she cried back, 'Right you are, Joe; so long till next July,' and that was a'." Imphm!

isn't that a queer state o' maitters, Maister Weelum? Mind you, I dinna a'thegither blame her. I ken the Hebrons. They're a queer, quate family.

Ye never can tell what they're thinkin'. I've the best o' them--ay, the best--an' I often shut my een an' thank G.o.d for Nathan; but if he had marrit ony ither woman--I mean a woman wha didna ken him as I do, or mak' allowances as I can, an' though she had been an angel frae heaven--she wad ha'e been as meeserable as I am happy. Ay, it was lang, lang before I understood Nathan, an' the kennin' o' him was a dreich job, but it was worth it a'. Ye see, the Hebrons havena got the faculty o' expressin' their feelin's. They may be pleased or angry--it's a'

yin--they never let on in their speech, but they show it in their actions; at least my Nathan does, an' my impression is that Joe's wife--Sally her name is--doesna ken Joe yet. He'll no' ha'e met her half-road, as it were, an' gi'en her a chance o' gettin' to the bedrock, an' she tak's his quateness for indifference; an' the upshot is, as ye see, that for the best pairt o' a year she's as happy in Brighton as he is in Thornhill, an' for the rest they put up wi' yin anither for the sake o' the siller their united efforts bring in. Ay, it's a queer world for some folk. But I'm deavin' ye. Joe'll be oot o' a job, too, an' to keep him richt I maun keep him workin' the day;' and she bustled off to encourage Joe in well-doing.

Later I consulted with Betty about Murray Monteith's visit, and we arranged to get the south bedroom prepared for his reception. So I wrote him to-day at some length, extending Betty's invitation, and expressing my willingness to accompany him to Nithbank House. After I had finished my letter I perambulated the dining-room round and round, for the day was wet and boisterous, and I could not go out of doors.

Bang and Jip, evidently conscious of the fact that a walk was out of the question, were making themselves at home on the hearthrug, and I was just finis.h.i.+ng half a mile of carpet-walking when the street door opened, and Nathan's step sounded in the lobby. Betty had gone out on an errand, so I went in to the kitchen.

'Hallo, Nathan!' I said; 'have you got a holiday to-day?'

Nathan looked up at me as he sat down in his arm-chair near the fire.

'I've ta'en yin, Maister Weelum,' he said. 'I've ta'en yin--very much against the grain, though. I'm--I'm no' feelin' very weel, so I thocht I wad juist come hame.'

'You did well to come home, Nathan, and I'm sorry to know you are not up to the mark. You're cold-looking. Do you feel cold?'

'Weel, s.h.i.+very weys, Maister Weelum; s.h.i.+very weys. Imphm!--Where's Betty?'

I told him she had gone out on an errand, but would be back presently; and, going into the dining-room, I poured out a gla.s.s of brandy and brought it to him. 'Here, Nathan. I know your mind on the liquor question; but put aside your objections and drink this. It will do you good.'

He smiled feebly. 'What would Betty say? Will ye tak' the blame?' he asked.

'Certainly I'll take the blame, or, rather, I should say the credit.

Drink it up now, Nathan.'

Joe, who had been splitting firewood in the stick-house, had recognised his brother's voice, and came into the kitchen. 'It is you, Nathan!' he said, in surprise. 'It's no' often we see you wi' a dram-gless in your hand, an' at this time o' day, too. My word, but you're lucky!'

'Ay, Benjy, it is me, an' I am lucky. I daur say ye wad like to chum wi'

me the noo. Are--are ye still keepin' the teetotal?'

For a moment Joe looked shamefacedly at Nathan; then truth and honour--outstanding traits of the Hebrons--shone in his eye. 'No,' he said; 'I broke it this mornin'.'

'Ay--imphm! And hoo did you come to do that?' asked Nathan, without looking round.

'Betty tempted me, and I fell.'

'Oh, imphm! Betty gied ye a dram, did she? Weel, Benjy, whatever Betty did was richt. She didna tempt ye, man; she treated ye, that's what she did. Ye'll no' gang far wrang if ye're guided by Betty.--Eh, Maister Weelum?'

He was sitting very near the fire, with his long gnarled fingers spread out for warmth, and he looked up sideways to me when he said this with a look in his blue eyes which told me, more pointedly than words, of his absolute confidence in her good judgment, and the pride he had in the possession of her love.

CHAPTER XIII.

One of my city friends who is interested in the study of phrenology once told me that my b.u.mp of adaptability is very strongly developed. He told me more, of which I was sceptical; but the natural ease with which I have taken to and conformed with my present surroundings is proof to me that his interpretation of this particular b.u.mp was fairly correct.

Words fail me to express adequately the pleasure I have derived from my reintroduction to Nature's home and mine. Everything seems fresh from the hand of the Creator; there is no veneer, no make-believe, and over all there is solace and repose. Happy hours in the domestic atmosphere of the old house, mellowed and sweetened by the presence of Betty and Nathan; the quiet interval spent in the barber's back sanctum, with its window facing the gray-blue Lowthers; the afternoon visit to John Sterling's shop, with its homely smell of roset and bend-leather, and our usual discussion on the Dandie breed and the beauties of Scott's _Marmion_, Aird's _Devil's Dream_, and Hogg's _Kilmeny_; a stroll with Bang and Jip round the Gillfoot or down the 'Coo Road;' and solitary meditation on the doctor's 'mound,' surrounded by a medley of vegetation, planted indiscriminately and flouris.h.i.+ng under what the dear old man calls his natural style of gardening--such is my daily programme. A homely life this amidst homely folks: the barber in his reminiscent moods; John Sterling with his love of dogs, his charitableness and honesty, and his enthusiasm for what I may call the true poetry of life; Dr Grierson, walking alone, hugging to his heart a sweet secret memory, dreein' his weird, doing good in his own quiet way, and keeping from his left hand what his right hand is doing; Nathan, silent, serious, and preoccupied, deferring ever to Betty, and proud and content to shelter in her shadow; and Betty, my dear, kind, thoughtful Betty, who always carves with the blunt knife and the big heart, whose Bible is her bolster, and whose solicitude extends to all G.o.d's creatures great and small--homely folks of a surety; yes, commonplace, if you will, but dear to my heart. It may be--in fact, I may take it for granted--that characters like these would make no appeal to my city acquaintances; to them a.s.sociation with such would be boredom, and my mode of living the essence of dreariness; and yet to me, and I say it with all reverence, it comes as near as anything on earth can come to that peace which pa.s.seth all understanding.

Mention of Betty and her Bible in the same breath reminds me that lately she has talked to me almost solely on secular matters. This is not as it used to be. When first I came to her, by a process of manoeuvring and meandering peculiar to herself she always managed to steer her conversation into religious channels, and the direct way she had of pointing the moral was always original and characteristic. It is not because I have discouraged her or shown any indifference that she has lapsed in this matter; and it would appear that, as our intimacy has ripened, and as our topics of conversation have become more personal, she has meantime allowed the mundane to prevail, with a view to taking up the more serious and essential at a more convenient season.

I wasn't surprised, therefore, when, to-day, after Dr Grierson had visited Nathan in the back-room, she asked him in an off-hand, matter-of-fact way what he thought of yesterday's sermon.

The doctor was fumbling in his pocket for his old clay, and in an absent, abstracted tone of voice he informed her that, as he hadn't been to church, he wasn't in a position to pa.s.s any judgment.

'Ay, ye werena at the kirk? I micht ha'e kenned that,' she said. 'Imphm!

I'm no' a deid auld woman, doctor,' she continued; 'but I mind o' your faither efter he left Dumfries an' cam' to bide wi' ye here, an' he was a regular attender at the kirk. It's a great pity when folks break off kin'. Ay, that it is! Imphm! An', doctor, you'll excuse me, it's mebbe nae business o' mine; but I canna help tellin' ye that I often think aboot ye, an' that ye lie heavy on my mind. We've seen a great deal o'

ye lately, mair than we ever saw before, and I've proved to mysel' what ithers said o' ye, an' what I had aye ta'en for granted. It's a' in your favour, an' what ye've dune for the puir G.o.d will no' forget when ye're bein' weighed in the balance.'

'Thank you, Betty,' the doctor said, as he struck a light.

'Ay, but haud on; I havena dune wi' ye. I havena come to the point. As I've said, ye've come a great deal in an' oot among us lately, an' in a temporal sense ye've been a great comfort and help to Maister Weelum here. Oh that ye had been able to influence him spiritually, for since he cam' he's never darkened a kirk door. I've held my tongue, as sae far there's been an excuse for him; but noo that he's gettin' better an'

able to gang aboot, I juist think that oot o' respect for you, if ye had been kirk-minded, he could easily ha'e been guided Zionward.'

I had the feeling that Betty was rus.h.i.+ng in where angels fear to tread; and, not knowing how the doctor was likely to take this, I became very uncomfortable. He puffed spasmodically at his pipe and moved uneasily in his chair. 'It is very kind of you, Betty, to think of me,' he said--'very kind indeed; and you must not count it none of your business to bring such matters before me. In a way we are all each other's keepers, and it would be churlish of me to resent such interest as you show. For my own part, I live my life according to my light, such as it is. It may be a poor, flickering light to other eyes, but it is sufficient to show me the road. As for William here, he has long ago reached man's estate, and he can judge of these matters for himself. If I mistake not, he has a standard of his own, and I feel sure my influence, even though I were kirk-minded, as you call it, would not direct his steps in the direction you indicate.'

'Oh doctor, dinna say that! We can a' be made humble instruments.

Example is a great thing, though ye dinna follow your faither's, an' I ken what a power for guid ye wad be if the grace o' G.o.d was in ye. Oh doctor, I've been he'rt sorry for ye mony a time, for I ken the grief ye've carried, an' I've wondered hoo ye could thole it sae lang a' by yoursel', an' that ye never accepted the consolation which He alone can gi'e ye. But ye've spurned it, doctor. I don't think that ye're a joined member o' the kirk or that ye gang to the Communion--you that's sic a man i' the toon--everybody's body as you are, an' born wi' a sma'er dose o' original sin than ony yin I ken o'. I juist canna understan' it.'

The doctor laughed good-humouredly. 'I've my work to attend to, you know, Betty. My patients cannot be neglected for the sake of'----

'If your work permitted, wad ye gang to the kirk, doctor?'

'I--I question if I would.'

'That's an honest admission, an' it wadna come frae Dr Grierson if it wasna. An' what's your objection, doctor?'

'Oh, well, Betty, your question opens up a big, debatable subject on which I have great reluctance to enter. I have neither the time nor the inclination, Betty; but this much I will say, we are all heirs to a heritage of different distresses in this life, and as we are not all const.i.tuted alike we require different treatment. Now there is one great panacea, one great balm, for all our wounds. Some find that panacea in their church, though many go to church who are not aware they require a panacea. Others, of whom I am one, find a balm for their afflictions in communing with the nature of G.o.d's creation we see around us. With such it isn't necessary to go to church in order to feel G.o.d's presence or to experience His beneficent power. If it were, we could only commune with Him once a week, when the churches are open. As it is, I can praise Him at all times, and glorify His name under the canopy of His heavens, and among the trees and flowers and fields and woods, which evidence His fostering care and proclaim His loving-kindness.'

'Then, doctor, ye do believe in G.o.d?'

A pained look crept into the doctor's eyes. 'Betty,' he said, 'you surely have never doubted that?'

'Weel, wi' you no' gaun to the kirk, an''----

'Ah, Betty, it is possible for a man to go to church and remain in doubt; but no one can stand, as I often do, under the starry firmament, alone in the midst of slumbering nature, or facing the glowing east when the shafts of the sun's morning beams are piercing the shadowy sky, and not feel within himself that G.o.d reigneth, and the earth in consequence rejoices.'

'Grand! Man, doctor, I'm glad to hear ye say that! I'm--I'm rale glad.'

There was a wee bit catch in Betty's voice, and a tear trickled down her cheek, which she tried to wipe away unnoticed with a corner of her ap.r.o.n. But the doctor saw, and his face twitched and softened.

'Then, doctor,' she continued, 'of course ye'll believe in the Bible?'

'Yes--with reservations.'

'Which means, doctor?'

'Well, Betty, it means that----Wait now, I want to make it easy for you to understand; but unfortunately, by doing so, it makes it all the more difficult for me to explain. Well, in a word, Betty, it means there are parts of it I believe, and there are others I cannot.'

'Ay, pairts ye believe an' pairts ye canna believe. I notice ye say ye _canna_ believe; ye don't say ye _will not_ believe. There's a difference, doctor, ye ken. Why do ye say ye canna?'