For perhaps a minute Gavin stood stock still, like an intruder. Then he ran towards the singing, which seemed to come from Windyghoul, a straight road through Caddam that farmers use in summer, but leave in the back end of the year to leaves and pools. In Windyghoul there is either no wind or so much that it rushes down the sieve like an army, entering with a shriek of terror, and escaping with a derisive howl.
The moon was crossing the avenue. But Gavin only saw the singer.
She was still fifty yards away, sometimes singing gleefully, and again letting her body sway lightly as she came dancing up Windyghoul. Soon she was within a few feet of the little minister, to whom singing, except when out of tune, was a suspicious thing, and dancing a device of the devil. His arm went out wrathfully, and his intention was to p.r.o.nounce sentence on this woman.
But she pa.s.sed, unconscious of his presence, and he had not moved nor spoken. Though really of the average height, she was a little thing to the eyes of Gavin, who always felt tall and stout except when he looked down. The grace of her swaying figure was a new thing in the world to him. Only while she pa.s.sed did he see her as a gleam of colour, a gypsy elf poorly clad, her bare feet flashing beneath a short green skirt, a twig of rowan berries stuck carelessly into her black hair. Her face was pale. She had an angel"s loveliness. Gavin shook.
Still she danced onwards, but she was very human, for when she came to muddy water she let her feet linger in it, and flung up her arms, dancing more wantonly than before. A diamond on her finger shot a thread of fire over the pool. Undoubtedly she was the devil.
Gavin leaped into the avenue, and she heard him and looked behind. He tried to cry "Woman!" sternly, but lost the word, for now she saw him, and laughed with her shoulders, and beckoned to him, so that he shook his fist at her. She tripped on, but often turning her head beckoned and mocked him, and he forgot his dignity and his pulpit and all other things, and ran after her. Up Windyghoul did he pursue her, and it was well that the precentor was not there to see. She reached the mouth of the avenue, and kissing her hand to Gavin, so that the ring gleamed again, was gone.
The minister"s one thought was to find her, but he searched in vain.
She might be crossing the hill on her way to Thrums, or perhaps she was still laughing at him from behind a tree. After a longer time than he was aware of, Gavin realised that his boots were chirping and his trousers streaked with mud. Then he abandoned the search and hastened homewards in a rage.
[Ill.u.s.tration: IN WINDYGHOUL.]
From the hill to the manse the nearest way is down two fields, and the little minister descended them rapidly. Thrums, which is red in daylight, was grey and still as the cemetery. He had glimpses of several of its deserted streets. To the south the watch-light showed brightly, but no other was visible. So it seemed to Gavin, and then--suddenly--he lost the power to move. He had heard the horn.
Thrice it sounded, and thrice it struck him to the heart. He looked again and saw a shadow stealing along the Tenements, then another, then half-a-dozen. He remembered Mr. Carfrae"s words, "If you ever hear that horn, I implore you to hasten to the square," and in another minute he had reached the Tenements.
Now again he saw the gypsy. She ran past him, half-a-score of men, armed with staves and pikes, at her heels. At first he thought they were chasing her, but they were following her as a leader. Her eyes sparkled as she waved them to the square with her arms.
"The soldiers, the soldiers!" was the universal cry.
"Who is that woman?" demanded Gavin, catching hold of a frightened old man.
"Curse the Egyptian limmer," the man answered, "she"s egging my laddie on to fecht."
"Bless her rather," the son cried, "for warning us that the sojers is coming. Put your ear to the ground, Mr. Dishart, and you"ll hear the dirl o" their feet."
The young man rushed away to the square, flinging his father from him.
Gavin followed. As he turned into the school wynd, the town drum began to beat, windows were thrown open, and sullen men ran out of closes where women were screaming and trying to hold them back. At the foot of the wynd Gavin pa.s.sed Sanders Webster.
"Mr. Dishart," the mole-catcher cried, "hae you seen that Egyptian?
May I be struck dead if it"s no" her little leddyship."
But Gavin did not hear him.
Chapter Five.
A WARLIKE CHAPTER, CULMINATING IN THE FLOUTING OF THE MINISTER BY THE WOMAN.
"Mr. Dishart!"
Jean had clutched at Gavin in Bank Street. Her hair was streaming, and her wrapper but half b.u.t.toned.
"Oh, Mr. Dishart, look at the mistress! I couldna keep her in the manse."
Gavin saw his mother beside him, bare-headed, trembling.
"How could I sit still, Gavin, and the town full o" the skirls of women and bairns? Oh, Gavin, what can I do for them? They will suffer most this night."
As Gavin took her hand he knew that Margaret felt for the people more than he.
"But you must go home, mother," he said, "and leave me to do my duty.
I will take you myself if you will not go with Jean. Be careful of her, Jean."
"Ay, will I," Jean answered, then burst into tears. "Mr. Dishart," she cried, "if they take my father they"d best take my mither too."
The two women went back to the manse, where Jean relit the fire, having nothing else to do, and boiled the kettle, while Margaret wandered in anguish from room to room.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE WARNING.]
Men nearly naked ran past Gavin, seeking to escape from Thrums by the fields he had descended. When he shouted to them they only ran faster.
A Tillyloss weaver whom he tried to stop struck him savagely and sped past to the square. In Bank Street, which was full of people at one moment and empty the next, the minister stumbled over old Charles Yuill.
"Take me and welcome," Yuill cried, mistaking Gavin for the enemy. He had only one arm through the sleeve of his jacket, and his feet were bare.
"I am Mr. Dishart. Are the soldiers already in the square, Yuill?"
"They"ll be there in a minute."
The man was so weak that Gavin had to hold him.
"Be a man, Charles. You have nothing to fear. It is not such as you the soldiers have come for. If need be, I can swear that you had not the strength, even if you had the will, to join in the weavers"
riot."
"For G.o.dsake, Mr. Dishart," Yuill cried, his hands chattering on Gavin"s coat, "dinna swear that. My laddie was in the thick o" the riot; and if he"s ta"en there"s the poor"s-house gaping for Kitty and me, for I couldna weave half a web a week. If there"s a warrant agin onybody o" the name of Yuill, swear it"s me; swear I"m a desperate character, swear I"m michty strong for all I look palsied; and if when they take me, my courage breaks down, swear the mair, swear I confessed my guilt to you on the Book."
As Yuill spoke the quick rub-a-dub of a drum was heard.
"The soldiers!" Gavin let go his hold of the old man, who hastened away to give himself up.
"That"s no the sojers," said a woman; "it"s the folk gathering in the square. This"ll be a watery Sabbath in Thrums."
"Rob Dow," shouted Gavin, as Dow flung past with a scythe in his hand, "lay down that scythe."
"To h.e.l.l wi" religion!" Rob retorted, fiercely; "it spoils a" thing."
"Lay down that scythe; I command you."
Rob stopped undecidedly, then cast the scythe from him, but its rattle on the stones was more than he could bear.
"I winna," he cried, and, picking it up, ran to the square.
An upper window in Bank Street opened, and Dr. McQueen put out his head. He was smoking as usual.