Clergy -- Fiction; Love stories; Scotland -- Fiction
She was moving from him on her knees, meaning when out of arm's reach
to make a dash for life.
"Sit down," he grumbled, "or how can you expect a fair trial? Prisoner
at the bar, you have been found guilty of witchcraft."
For the first time his voice faltered.
"That's the difficulty, for witches canna die, except by burning or
drowning. There's no blood in you for my knife, and your neck wouldna
twist. Your master has brocht the rain to put out a' the fires, and
we'll hae to wait till it runs into a pool deep enough to drown you.
"I wonder at You, God. Do You believe her master'll mak' the pool for
her? He'll rather stop his rain. Mr. Dishart said You was mair
powerful than the devil, but it doesna look like it. If You had the
power, how did You no stop this woman working her will on the
minister? You kent what she was doing, for You ken a' things. Mr.
Dishart says You ken a' things. If You do, the mair shame to You.
Would a shepherd, that could help it, let dogs worry his sheep? Kill
her! It's fine to cry 'Kill her,' but whaur's the bonfire, whaur's the
pool? You that made the heaven and the earth and all that in them is,
can You no set fire to some wet whins, or change this stane into a
mill-dam?"
He struck the stone with his fist, and then gave a cry of exultation.
He raised the great slab in his arms and flung it from him. In
that moment Babbie might have run away, but she fainted. Almost
simultaneously with Dow she knew this was the stone which covered the
Caddam well. When she came to, Dow was speaking, and his voice had
become solemn.
"You said your master was mair powerful than mine, and I said it too,
and all the time you was sitting here wi' the very pool aneath you
that I have been praying for. Listen!"
He dropped a stone into the well, and she heard it strike the water.
"What are you shaking at?" he said in reproof. "Was it no yoursel'
that chose the spot? Lassie, say your prayers. Are you saying them?"
He put his hand over her face, to feel if her lips were moving, and
tore off the neckerchief.
And then again the rain came between them. In that rain one could not
think. Babbie did not know that she had bitten through the string that
tied her hands. She planned no escape. But she flung herself at the
place where Dow had been standing. He was no longer there, and she
fell heavily, and was on her feet again in an instant and running
recklessly. Trees intercepted her, and she thought they were Dow, and
wrestled with them. By and by she fell into Windyghoul, and there she
crouched until all her senses were restored to her, when she
remembered that she had been married lately.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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