Part 25 (1/2)

Porteous; ”and ye maun just excuse us baith.”

”I think,” said the minister, in a tremulous voice, ”it would be good for us all to engage in prayer.”

They did so.

Just as they rose from their knees, the slight noise which the movement occasioned--for hitherto the conversation had been conducted in whispers--caused the starling to leap up on his perch. Then with clear accents, that rung over the silent house, he said, ”I'm Charlie's bairn!”

Katie looked up to the cage, and for the first time in her life felt something akin to downright anger at the bird. His words seemed to her to be a most unseasonable interruption--a text for a dispute--a reminiscence of what she did not wish then to have recalled.

”Whisht, ye impudent cratur!” she exclaimed; adding, as if to correct his rudeness, ”ye'll disturb yer maister.”

The bird looked down at her with his head askance, and scratched it as if puzzled and asking ”What's wrong?”

”Oh,” said Katie, turning to the minister as if caught in some delinquency, ”it's no' my faut, sir; ye maun forgie the bird; the silly thing doesna ken better.”

”Never mind, never mind,” said Mr. Porteous, kindly, ”it's but a trifle, and not worthy of our notice at such a solemn moment; it must not distract our minds from higher things.”

”I'm muckle obleeged to ye, sir,” said Katie, rising and making a curtsy. Feeling, however, that a crisis had come from which she could not escape if she would, she bid Mary ”gang ben and watch, and shut the door”. When Mary had obeyed, she turned to Mr. Porteous and said, ”Ye maun excuse me, sir, but I canna thole ye to be angry aboot the bird.

It's been a sore affliction, I do a.s.sure you, sir.”

”Pray say nothing more of that business, I implore you, Mrs. Mercer, just now,” said Mr. Porteous, looking uneasy, but putting his hand kindly on her arm; ”there is no need for it.”

This did not deter Katie from uttering what was now oppressing her heart more than ever, but rather encouraged her to go on.

”Ye maun let me speak, or I'll brust,” she said. ”Oh, sir, it has indeed been an awfu' grief this--just awfu' tae us baith. But dinna, dinna think Adam was to blame as muckle as me. I'm in faut, no' him. It wasna frae want o' respec' tae you, sir; na, na, that couldna be; but a'

frae love tae our bairn, that was sae uncommon ta'en up wi' yersel'.”

”I remember the lovely boy well,” said Mr. Porteous, not wis.h.i.+ng to open up the question of the Sergeant's conduct.

”Naebody that ever see'd him,” continued Katie, ”but wad mind him--his bonnie een like blabs o' dew, and his bit mooth that was sae sweet tae kiss. An' ye mind the nicht he dee'd, hoo he clapped yer head when ye were prayin' there at his bedside, and hoo he said his ain wee prayer; and hoo----” Here Katie rose in rather an excited manner, and opened a press, and taking from it several articles, approached the minister and said--”See, there's his shoon, and there's his frock; and this is the clean cap and frills that was on his bonnie head when he lay a corp; and that was the whistle he had when he signed tae the bird tae come for a bit o' his piece; and it was the last thing he did, when he couldna eat, to insist on me giein' a wee bit tae his bairn, as he ca'ed it, ye ken; and he grat when he was sae waik that he couldna whistle till't. O my bairn, my bonnie bairn!” she went on, in low accents of profound sorrow, as she returned to the press these small memorials of a too cherished grief.

”You must not mourn as those who have no hope, my friend,” said the minister; ”your dear child is with Jesus.”

”Thank ye, sir, for that,” said Katie; who resolved, however, to press towards the point she had in view. ”An' it was me hindered Adam frae killin' my bairn's pet,” she continued, resuming her seat beside the minister. ”He said he wad throttle it, or cast it into the fire.”

The minister shook his head, remarking, ”Tut, tut! that would never have done! No human being wished that.”

”That's what I said,” continued Katie; ”an' whan he rowed up the sleeves o' his sark, and took haud o' the bit thing tae thraw its neck, I wadna let him, but daured him to do it, that did I; and I ken't ye wad hae dune the same, fur the sake o' wee Charlie, that was sae fond o' you.

Oh, forgie me, forgie him, if I was wrang! A mither's feelings are no easy hauden doon!”

Was this account the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?

Perhaps not. But then, good brother or sister, if you are disposed to blame Katie, we defend not even this weary mourner from thee. Take the first stone and cast it at her! Yet we think, as you do so, we see the Perfect One writing on the ground; and if He is writing her condemnation, 'tis in the dust of earth, and the kindly rain or winds of heaven will soon obliterate the record.

”No more about this painful affair, I beseech of you,” said the minister, taking a very large and long pinch of snuff; ”let us rather try and comfort Adam. This is our present duty.”

”G.o.d Himsel' bless ye!” said Katie, kissing the back of his hand; ”but ye maunna gang near him; dinna risk yer valuable life; the fivver is awfu' smittal. Dr. Scott wull let naebody in.”

”And have you no nurse?” inquired Mr. Porteous, not thinking of himself.

This question recalled to her mind what seemed another mysterious stumbling-block. She knew not what to say in reply. Jock Hall was at that moment seated like a statue beside the bed, and what would the minister think when he saw this representative of parish wickedness in an elder's house?