Clergy -- Fiction; Love stories; Scotland -- Fiction
"You remember, mother," Gavin said, "how I almost prayed for the manse
that was to give you an egg every morning. I have been telling Jean
never to forget the egg."
"Ah, Gavin, things have come about so much as we wanted that I'm a
kind o' troubled. It's hardly natural, and I hope nothing terrible is
to happen now."
Gavin arranged her pillows as she liked them, and when he next stole
into the room in his stocking soles to look at her, he thought she was
asleep. But she was not. I dare say she saw at that moment Gavin in
his first frock, and Gavin in knickerbockers, and Gavin as he used to
walk into the Glasgow room from college, all still as real to her as
the Gavin who had a kirk.
The little minister took away the lamp to his own room, shaking his
fist at himself for allowing his mother's door to creak. He pulled up
his blind. The town lay as still as salt. But a steady light showed in
the south, and on pressing his face against the window he saw another
in the west. Mr. Carfrae's words about the night-watch came back to
him. Perhaps it had been on such a silent night as this that the
soldiers marched into Thrums. Would they come again?
Chapter Four.
FIRST COMING OF THE EGYPTIAN WOMAN.
A learned man says in a book, otherwise beautiful with truth, that
villages are family groups. To him Thrums would only be a village,
though town is the word we have ever used, and this is not true of it.
Doubtless we have interests in common, from which a place so near (but
the road is heavy) as Tilliedrum is shut out, and we have an
individuality of our own too, as if, like our red houses, we came from
a quarry that supplies no other place. But we are not one family. In
the old days, those of us who were of the Tenements seldom wandered to
the Croft head, and if we did go there we saw men to whom we could not
always give a name. To flit from the Tanage brae to Haggart's road was
to change one's friends. A kirk-wynd weaver might kill his swine and
Tillyloss not know of it until boys ran westward hitting each other
with the bladders. Only the voice of the dulsemen could be heard all
over Thrums at once. Thus even in a small place but a few outstanding
persons are known to everybody.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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