At length I rose and strode out into the garden to cool my burning head. The sleet was even grateful to me, and I bared my brow till hair and skin were wet with the rain. Down by the rows of birch trees I walked, past the rough ground where the potherbs were grown, till I came to the shady green lawn. Up and down it I passed, striving hard with my honor and my love, fighting that battle which all must fight some time or other in their lives and be victorious or vanquished forever.
Suddenly, to my wonder, I saw a face looking at me from beneath a tuft of elderberry.
I drew back, looked again, and at the second glance I recognized it. ’Twas the face of Master Henry Temple of Clachlands—and the hills.
’Twas liker the face of a wild goat than a man. The thin features stood out so strongly that all the rest seemed to fall back from them. The long, ragged growth of hair on lip and chin, and the dirt on his cheeks, made him unlike my friend of the past. But the memorable change was in his eyes, which glowed large and lustrous, with the whites greatly extended, and all tinged with a yellow hue. Fear and privation had done their work, and before me stood their finished product.
“Good Heavens, Henry! What brings you here, and how have you fared?”
He stared at me without replying, which I noted as curious.
“Where is Anne?” he asked huskily.
“She is in the house, well and unscathed. Shall I call her to you?”
“Nay, for God’s sake, nay! I am no pretty sight for a young maid. You say she is well?”
“Ay, very well. But how is the minister?”
“Alas, he is all but gone. The chill has entered his bones, and even now he may be passing. The child will soon be an orphan.”
“And you?”
“Oh, I am no worse than the others on whom the Lord’s hand is laid. There is a ringing in my head and a pain at my heart, but I am still hale and fit to testify to the truth. Oh, man, ’twill ill befa’ those in the day of judgment who eat the bread of idleness and dwell in peace in thae weary times.”
“Come into the house; or nay, I will fetch you food and clothing.”
“Nay, bring nought for me. I would rather live in rags and sup on a crust than be habited in purple and fare sumptuously. I ask ye but one thing: let the maid walk in the garden that I may see her. And, oh, man! I thank ye for your kindness to me and mine. I pray the Lord ilka night to think on ye here.”
I could not trust myself to speak.
“I will do as you wish,” I said, and without another word set off sharply for the house.
I entered the sitting room wearily, and flung myself on a chair. Anne sat sewing as before. She started as I entered, and I saw the color rise to her cheeks and brow.
“You are pale, my dear,” I said; “the day is none so bad, and ’twould do you no ill to walk round the garden to the gate. I have just been there, and, would you believe it, the grass is still wondrous green.”
She rose demurely and obediently as if my word were the law of her life.
“Pray bring me a sprig of ivy from the gate-side,” I cried after her, laughing, “to show me that you have been there.”
I sat and kicked my heels till her return in a miserable state of impatience. I could not have refused to let the man see his own betrothed, but God only knew what desperate act he might do. He might spring out and clasp her in his arms; she, I knew, had not a shred of affection left for him; she would be cold and resentful; he would suspect, and then—what an end there might be to it all! I longed to hear the sound of her returning footsteps.
She came in soon, and sat down in her wonted chair by the fire.
“There’s your ivy, John,” said she; “ ’tis raw and chilly in the garden, and I love the fireside better.”
“ ’Tis well,” I thought, “she has not seen Master Semple.” Now I could not suffer him to depart without meeting him again, partly out of pity for the man, partly to assure my own mind that no harm would come of it. So I feigned an errand and went out.
I found him, as I guessed, still in the elder-bush, a tenfold stranger sight than before. His eyes burned uncannily. His thin cheeks seemed almost transparent with the tension of the bones, and he chewed his lips unceasingly. At the sight of me he came out and stood before me, as wild a figure as I ever hope to see—clothes in tatters, hair unkempt, and skin all foul with the dirt of
