Clergy -- Fiction; Love stories; Scotland -- Fiction
"I daresay," McKenzie said indifferently. "However, it is nothing to
us. Good-night, sir."
The earl had started for the trap, but McKenzie's salute reminded him
of a forgotten courtesy, and, despite his agitation, he came back to
apologize. I admired him for this. Then my thoughtlessness must needs
mar all.
"Good-night, Mr. McKenzie," I said. "Good-night, Lord Rintoul."
I had addressed him by his real name. Never a turnip fell from a
bumping, laden cart, and the driver more unconscious of it, than I
that I had dropped that word. I re-entered the house, but had not
reached my chair when McKenzie's hand fell roughly on me, and I was
swung round.
"Mr. Ogilvy," he said, the more savagely I doubt not because his
passions had been chained so long, "you know more than you would have
us think. Beware, sir, of recognising that gypsy should you ever see
her again in different attire. I advise you to have forgotten this
night when you waken to-morrow morning."
With a menacing gesture he left me, and I sank into a chair, glad to
lose sight of the glowering eyes with which he had pinned me to the
wall. I did not hear the trap cross the ford and renew its journey.
When I looked out next, the night had fallen very dark, and the glen
was so deathly in its drowsiness that I thought not even the cry of
murder could tear its eyes open.
The earl and McKenzie would be some distance still from the hill when
the office-bearers had scoured it in vain for their minister. The
gypsies, now dancing round their fires to music that, on ordinary
occasions, Lang Tammas would have stopped by using his fists to the
glory of God, had seen no minister, they said, and disbelieved in the
existence of the mysterious Egyptian.
"Liars they are to trade," Spens declared to his companions, "but now
and again they speak truth, like a standing clock, and I'm beginning
to think the minister's lassie was invented in the square."
"Not so," said the precentor, "for we saw her oursel's a short year
syne, and Hendry Munn there allows there's townsfolk that hae passed
her in the glen mair recently."
"I only allowed," Hendry said cautiously, "that some sic talk had shot
up sudden-like in the town. Them that pretends they saw her says that
she joukit quick out o' sicht."
"Ay, and there's another quirk in that," responded the suspicious
precentor.
"I'se uphaud the minister's sitting in the manse in his slippers by
this time," Hendry said.
"I'm willing," replied Whamond, "to gang back and speir, or to search
Caddam next; but let the matter drop I winna, though I ken you're a'
awid to be hame now."
"And naturally," retorted Tosh, "for the nicht's coming on as black as
pick, and by the time we're at Caddam we'll no even see the trees."
Toward Caddam, nevertheless, they advanced, hearing nothing but a
distant wind and the whish of their legs in the broom.
"Whaur's John Spens?" Hendry said suddenly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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