Covenanters -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Scotland -- History -- Stuarts, to the Union, 1371-1707 -- Fiction
Then I was left alone in the gloomy solitude of the prison-room, and the
ponderous doors were shut upon me, and the harsh bolts driven with a
horrid grating noise, that caused my very bones to dinle. But even in
that dreadful hour an unspeakable consolation came with the freshness of
a breathing of the airs of paradise to my soul. Methought a wonderful
light shone around me, that I heard melodious voices bidding me be of
good cheer, and that a vision of my saintly grandfather, in the glorious
vestments of his heavenly attire, stood before me, and smiled upon me
with that holy comeliness of countenance which has made his image in my
remembrance ever that of the most venerable of men; so that, in the very
depth of what I thought would have been the pit of despair, I had a
delightful taste of those blessed experiences of divine aid, by which
the holy martyrs were sustained in the hours of trial, and cheered
amidst the torments in which they sealed the truth of their testimony.
After the favour of that sweet and celestial encouragement, I laid
myself down on a pallet in the corner of the room, and a gracious sleep
descended upon my eyelids, and steeped the sense and memory of my griefs
in forgetfulness. When I woke the day was far spent, and the light
through the iron stainchers of the little window showed that the shadows
of the twilight were darkening over the world. I raised myself on my
elbow, and listened to the murmur of the multitude that I heard still
lingering around the prison; and sometimes I thought that I discovered
the voice of a friend.
In that situation, and thinking of all those dear cares which filled my
heart with tenderness and fear, and of the agonising grief of my little
boy, the sound of whose cries still echoed in my bosom, I rose upon my
knees and committed myself entirely to the custody of Him that can give
the light of liberty to the captive even in the gloom of the dungeon.
And when I had done so I again prepared to lay myself on the ground; but
a rustle in the darkness of the room drew my attention, and in the same
moment a kind hand was laid on mine.
"Sarah Lochrig," said I, for I knew my wife's gentle pressure,--"How is
it that you are with me in this doleful place? How found you entrance,
and I not hear you come in?"
But before she had time to make any answer, another's fond arms were
round my neck, and my affectionate young Michael wept upon my shoulder.
Bear with me, courteous reader, when I think of those things,--that wife
and that child, and all that I loved so fondly, are no more! But it is
not meet that I should yet tell how my spirit was turned into iron and
my heart into stone. Therefore will I still endeavour to relate, as with
the equanimity of one that writes but of indifferent things, what
further ensued during the thirteen days of my captivity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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