Great Britain -- History -- 17th century -- Fiction; Historical fiction
Our guide went forward to the man who stood by the wall and whispered
something to him. In an instant he came to us, and, bowing to Marjory,
bade us welcome. "We are glad to see you here, Master Burnet," said he.
"I am rejoiced to see the gentlemen of the land coming forth on the side
of the Covenant. It is you and such as you that we need, and we are
blithe to give you shelter here as long as you care to bide with us. It
is a queer thing that two men of the same house should be engaged in
this business on different sides."
Here one of the others spoke up.
"I trust, Master Burnet, ye have brought us good news from the Lawlands.
We heard that ye had great converse with the godly there, and we will be
glad to hear your account of how the guid cause prospers over the
water."
Now I felt myself in a position of much discomfort. The cause of my
outlawry had clearly got abroad, and here was I, credited with being a
zealous religionist and a great man among the Scots exiles in Holland.
Whereas, as I have already said, I cared little for these things, being
not of a temper which finds delight in little differences of creed or
details of ecclesiastical government, but caring little in what way a
man may worship his Maker. Indeed, to this day, while I can see the
advantage of having fixed rites and a church established, I see little
use in making a pother about any deviation. So I now found myself in an
unpleasing predicament. I must avow my utter ignorance of such matters
and my worldly motives for thus seeking shelter, and in all likelihood,
win the disfavour of these folk, nay, even be not suffered to remain.
"I thank you for your welcome," said I, "but I must hasten to set
matters right between us. I am not of your party, though it is my
misfortune to have to seek safety among the hills. It is true I have
been in the Low Countries, but it was for the purposes of study and
seeing the world, and not for the sake of religion. If I must speak the
truth, when I abode there I had little care of such things, for they
were never in my way. Now that I am returned and find myself a
fugitive, I am not a whit more concerned with them. My misfortunes
arise from the guile of a kinsman, and not from my faith. So there you
have my predicament."
I made the declaration crudely and roughly, for the necessity was urgent
upon me of making it very plain at the outset. Another man would have
been repelled or angered, but this man had the penetration to see
through my mask of callousness that I was not ill-disposed to his cause.
"It is no matter," he said. "Though you were the most rabid malignant,
we would yet give you shelter. And, indeed, though you may not be of
our way of thinking in all matters, yet I doubt not you are with us on
the essentials. Forbye, you are a gentleman of Tweeddale, and it would
be queer if you werena right-hearted, Master John Burnet."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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