David Fleming's Forgiveness. Margaret M. Robertson
ago.”
And as they lingered, she went on to tell them about the Flemings, and their opinions and manner of life, and about the troubles which had fallen on them. She grew earnest as she went on, telling about poor Hugh whom everybody had loved so well, whom she herself remembered as the handsomest, gentlest, and best of all those who had frequented their house, when her brothel Jacob was young and she was a child; and in her earnestness she said some things that surprised her brother as he listened.
“My father and Mr. Fleming were always friendly, and sometimes I went with my father to their house. I did not often see Mr. Fleming, but I remember his coming into the room one day, when I was sitting on a low stool, holding the first baby of his son’s family in my lap. She was a lovely little creature, little Katie, just beginning to coo, and murmur, and smile at me with her bonny blue eyes, and I suppose the child, and my pride and delight in her, must have been a pretty sight to see, for the grandfather sat down beside us, and smiled as he looked and listened, and made some happy, foolish talk with us both. My father was very much surprised, he told me afterward; and in a little while, when I went into another room, I found Mrs. Fleming crying, with her apron over her face. But they were happy tears, for she smiled when she saw us, and clasped and kissed baby and me, with many sweet Scottish words of endearment to us both. It was the first time she had seen her husband smile since their troubles, she said. The dark cloud was lifting, and wee Katie’s smile would bring sunshine again. I was a favourite with her a long time after that, but we have fallen out of acquaintance of late.”
“Which is a great mistake on your part,” said her brother.
“Yes; I hope she will be glad to see us. She will be glad to see you, Mr. Maxwell.”
“She will be glad to see us all,” said Clifton.
Chapter Six.
A Visit to Ythan Brae.
It was a great deal later in the afternoon than it ought to have been for the first visit of the minister, and the chances were he would have been told so in any other house in the parish. But Mrs. Fleming welcomed him warmly, and all the more warmly, she intimated, that he came in such good company. The lateness of the hour made this difference in the order of events: they had their tea first, and their visit afterward; a very good arrangement, for their tramp through the fields and woods had made them hungry, and Mrs. Fleming’s oat-cakes and honey were delicious. There were plenty of other good things on the table, but the honey and oat-cakes were the characteristic part of the meal, never omitted in Mrs. Fleming’s preparations for visitors. She had not forgotten the old Scottish fashion of pressing the good things upon her guests, but there was not much of this needed now, and she looked on with much enjoyment.
“Will you go ben the house, or bide still where you are?” asked she, when tea was over and they still lingered. “Ben the house”—in the parlour there were tall candles burning, and other arrangements made, but no one seemed inclined to move. The large kitchen in which they were sitting was, at this time of the year, the pleasantest place in the house. Later the cooking-stove, which in summer stood in the outer kitchen would be brought in, and the great fire-place would be shut up, but to-night there was a fire of logs on the wide hearth. It flickered and sparkled, and lighted up the dark face of old Mr. Fleming, and the fair face of Miss Elizabeth, as they sat on opposite sides of the hearth, and made shadows in the corners where the shy little Flemings had gathered. It lighted, too, the beautiful old face of the grandmother as she sat in her white cap and kerchief, with folded hands, making, to the minister’s pleased eye, a fair picture of the homely scene.
And so they sat still. Katie and her mother moved about quietly for a while, removing the tea-things and doing what was to be done about the house. When all this was over, and they sat down with the rest, Clifton, and even Elizabeth, awaited with a certain curiosity and interest the discussion of some important matter of opinion or doctrine between the old people and the minister, as was the way during the minister’s visits to most of the old Scotch houses of the place. But Mrs. Fleming had changed, and the times had changed, since the days when old Mr. Hollister and his friend went about to discuss the question of a union with the good folks of North Gore, and the household had changed also. The children sitting there so quiet, yet so observant, came in for a share of the minister’s notice, and when their grandmother proposed that they should arrange themselves before him in the order of their ages to be catechised by him, he entered into the spirit of the occasion as nobody in Gershom had seen him enter into anything yet. He knew all about it. He had been catechised in his youth in the orthodox manner of his country, and he acquitted himself well. From “What is the chief end of man?” until one after another of the children stopped, and even Katie hesitated, he went with shut book. It was very creditable to him in Mrs. Fleming’s opinion, quite as satisfactory as a formal discussion would have been in assuring her of the nature and extent of his doctrinal knowledge, and the soundness of his views generally.
“He’ll win through,” said she to herself; “he has been dazed with books till he has fallen out of acquaintance with his fellow-creatures, and he’ll need to ken mair about them before he can do much good in his work. But he’ll learn, there is no fear.”
The minister had other questions to ask at “the bairns” that had never been written in any catechism, and he had new things to tell them, and old things to tell them in a new way, and, as she looked and listened, Mrs. Fleming nodded to her husband and said to herself again, “He’ll win through.”
“Bairns,” said she impressively, “you see the good of learning your Bible and your catechism when you are young; take an example from the minister.”
And with this the bairns were dismissed from their position; for the rest of the evening till bedtime it was expected that they were “to be seen and not heard,” as was the way with bairns when their grandmother was young. The two eldest, Katie and Davie, were put forward a little, in a quiet way, and encouraged to display their book-learning to their visitors. But Katie was shy and uncomfortable, and did not do herself as much credit as usual. Her grandfather put her forward as a little girl, and the visitors treated her as a grown woman, and she did not like it, and at last took refuge with her knitting at her grandfather’s side, and left the field to Davie.
As for Davie, he was shy too, but in some things he was bold to a degree that filled Katie with astonishment. He held his own opinion about various things against the minister, who, to be sure, “was only just trying him.” And he and young Mr. Holt wrangled together over their opinions and questions good-humouredly enough, but still very much in earnest. Young Mr. Holt was the better of the two as to the subjects under discussion, but he was not so well up as he thought he was, or as he ought to have been, considering his advantages, and Davie knew enough to detect his errors, though not enough to correct them. The minister, appealed to by both, would not interfere, but listened smiling. Mr. Fleming sat silent, as his manner was, sometimes smiling, but oftener looking grave.
“Softly, Davie. Take heed to your words, my laddie,” said his grandmother now and then, and Elizabeth listened well pleased to see her brother, about whom she was sometimes anxious and afraid, taking evident pleasure in it all.
By and by the Book was brought, and Mr. Fleming, as head and priest of the household, solemnly asked God’s blessing on the Word they were to read, before he gave it to the minister to conduct the evening worship. It chanced that the chapter read was the one from which Mr. Maxwell’s Sunday text had been taken; and in the pause that followed the unwilling, but unresisting departure of the little ones to bed, Clifton said so. Then he added that he wished Mrs. Fleming had been there to hear the sermon, as he would have liked to hear her opinion as to some of the sentiments given in it by the minister. It was said with the hope of drawing the old lady into one of the discussions of which they had heard, Elizabeth knew, but it did not succeed.
“I heard the sermon, and had no fault to find with it; had you?” said Mrs. Fleming.
“Fault!