|
THE LITTLE MINISTER
By JAMES M. BARRIE GAVIN DISHART was barely twenty-one when he and his mother came to Thrums. All Thrums was out in its wyndes and closes-a few of the weavers still in knee-breeches, to look at the new Auld Licht minister. I was there, the dominie of Glen Quharity, four miles from Thrums, and heavy was my heart as I stood afar off so that Gavin's mother might not have the pain of seeing me. I alone of the crowd looked more at her than at her son. Eighteen years had passed since we parted, and already her hair had lost its brightness, and Margaret was an old woman at only forty-three, and I, who have loved her since I was a hobbledehoy and shall till I die, am the man who made her old. Many scenes in the little minister's life come back to me. The first time I ever thought of writing his love-story as an old man's gift to a little maid since grown tall, was one night in the old school-house, when my gate creaked in the wind, and my mind drifted back to another gate creaking, the first time I ever saw Gavin and the Egyptian together. Gavin was brought up to be a minister from his earliest days, and took to the idea enthusiastically. It had been the dream of the two of a manse, of which Margaret was mistress, and Gavin the minister, and now it was fulfilled. Gavin became at once popular in Thrums, and, though short of stature, he cast a great shadow. He converted a drunkard, Rob Dow, who adored him and would do any-thing in the world for him. On the fateful evening of October 17th Gavin was returning from Rob Dow's, and going home through Caddam Woods, when he heard singing. The singer came dancing up Windyghoul. Only when she passed him did Gavin see her as a gipsy elf, her bare feet flashing beneath a short green skirt, a twig of rowan berries in her black hair. She was pale with an angel's loveliness. A diamond on her finger shot a thread of fire over a pool as she danced by. Undoubtedly she was the devil. Gavin leaped after her, but as she saw him she beckoned mockingly, then kissed her hand, and was gone. A moment later came the sound of a horn. The minister was on the alert at once, and hurried to the Square. That horn was a signal that soldiers were marching on the village folk to arrest some malefactors among the weavers, who would resent it. In the Square was an uproar. It was the gipsy who had given the warning. Gavin tried to persuade the people to disperse to save bloodshed, but the Egyptian cried: "Do not heed this little man! Save your-selves," and they obeyed her. The soldiers came, but caught only a few, the real culprits escaping. The Egyptian was even caught, but escaped the officers first through a clever ruse, and again through impudently pretending she was Gavin's wife! He was furious, and yet he felt his anger die as he looked at the beautiful girl with the appealing eyes and coaxing, laughing mouth. He even told her to hide in the manse gar- den in the summer seat, till the soldiers had gone. Gavin was in two minds after that, angry at himself because of the Egyptian, and yet he constantly thought of her, and wondered. He preached sermons against women, those days-their witching ways were the devil. One winter day, the Egyptian's timely appearance saved old Nanny Webster from the poorhouse. The gipsy impulsively offered five pounds to support Nanny till her brother came back from jail. Then it was that Gavin first believed in her and said he'd trust her word. The happy Nanny persuaded the minister to stay for tea. That tea-drinking bewitched the little minister, for the fascinating Babbie teased him-and he liked it. Babbie brought him the money to Caddam Woods next day, and gave Gavin a holly spray that he secretly treasured. Again and again he was drawn to Nanny's cottage, where Babbie frequently came, and he didn't understand at first that he was in love with the mysterious girl with her many caprices-all of which charmed him. He little knew that Rob Dow had discovered him with Babbie in their trysts, and won dered why Rob avoided him and was drinking again. Rob's greatest fear was that the kirk elders should learn of the Egyptian and the minister and stone him out of Thrums. One night Babbie flashed a lantern in at the manse window to attract Gavin's attention. He waited breathlessly till the manse was quiet in slumber, then stole out to meet Babbie at the summer seat. There in the darkness Gavin kissed her, and Babbie realized for the first time his love for her. She had been playing with him, and felt ashamed. She wanted to run away, and she wanted to stay and have him put his kiss into words. But it was late, and it was that night as Gavin took her back to Nanny's that I saw them together for the first time. Love dawned in Babbie's heart that night, and all the world looked new to her, and she longed for Gavin to come. Then she met Rob Dow's little son weeping bitterly, who told her of what sorrow the "wooman who'd bewitched the meenister" would bring every one, and Babbie, touched to the heart, went away. Months passed, and the little minister looked in vain for her. Then came the 4th of August, the eve of Lord Rintoul's marriage, an old earl staying at the Spittal, whose bride was reported as young and bonny. But nearly all of Thrums were concerned over the long drought that had become a calamity, and that night there was to be a special prayer-meeting for rain. Then suddenly Babbie came to me in the school-house, saying that Gavin had been killed by a drunken Highland piper. It was not true-a rumor, but I found Gavin, and told him where he would find Babbie, though I felt I was doing wrong. Babbie told Gavin her story then-that she was to be Lord Rintoul's bride on the morrow. He had found her when a mite, fallen from a gipsy wagon, and for her beauty had reared and educated her. Babbie and Gavin tried to give each other up; then Babbie heard Lord Rintoul's voice, and in terror clung to Gavin, and the two ran off in the darkness to the gipsy camp on the hill to be married over the tongs by the gipsy king. That terrible night, with the storm coming, the earl seeking his lost bride, the dour elders relentlessly following their errant min- ister-and drunken Rob madly bound to save his friend. Then came the flood, when the heavens opened and lochs seemed to fall. Babbie, separated from Gavin after the gipsy marriage, fell into Rob's hands, but mercifully escaped and reached the manse. Gavin wandered all night through the storm after Babbie, and I found him exhausted near my house next morning. He told me all that had passed, and my anxiety for Margaret at the consequences of his rash act led me to attempt to reach Thrums. But before I left it was necessary to tell Gavin my story, that he was my son and Margaret was my wife. Margaret had married Adam Dishart first, and he had gone to sea, and after two years all thought him lost, and she married me. Then when Gavin was three years old Adam suddenly returned, and I passed out of Margaret's life forever. Gavin sought to learn if Babbie had been carried off by Lord Rintoul, and found the earl on an island in the midst of floods. Gavin jumped to his aid, but nothing could be done, and it was thought both must perish. His congregation, gathered by the precipice, forgot they had meant to expel him, and, listening with dim eyes to his brave last words, knew only that they loved him. Then Rob Dow threw his life away to save his friend, and the rope with which he sprang into the flood withdrew minister and earl to safety. So Gavin and Babbie were married, and no one seeing Babbie going demurely to church on Gavin's arm would guess her history. Yet sometimes at night Babbie slips into her gipsy frock, with rowan berries in her hair, and Gavin always kisses her. My little maid knows this story as well as I do. She was named for Margaret, and has been my dearest comfort since my Margaret died; but I have lived to rejoice in the happiness of Gavin and Babbie and their children. |