White Heather: A Novel (Volume 2 of 3)Black, William
General
White Heather: A Novel (Volume 2 of 3)
Black, William
Scotland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
However, the fourth or fifth tea-pot was exhausted at last; the minister
offered up a prolonged thanksgiving; and Ronald thought that now he
might get away—and out into the freer air. But that was not to be as
yet. His brother observed that it was getting late; that all the
members of the household were gathered together; and they might
appropriately have family worship now. So the two servant-girls were
summoned in to clear the table, and that done, they remained; the
minister brought the family Bible over from the sideboard; and all sate
still and attentive, their books in their hand, while he sought out the
chapter he wanted. It was the Eighth of the Epistle to the Romans; and
he read it slowly and elaborately, but without any word of comment or
expounding. Then he said that they would sing to the praise of the Lord
the XCIII. Psalm—himself leading off with the fine old tune of
_Martyrdom_; and this the young people sang very well indeed, though
they were a little interfered with by the uncertain treble of the
married women and the bovine baritone of the elder. Thereafter the
minister offered up a prayer, in which very pointed reference was made
to the brother and sister who had come from the far mountains to dwell
within the gates of the city; and then all of them rose, and the
maidservants withdrew, and those remaining who had to go began to get
ready for their departure.
’Come over and see us soon again,’ the minister said to him, as they
followed him into the lobby; but the minister’s wife did not repeat that
friendly invitation.
’Ronald,’ the little Maggie whispered—and her lips were rather
tremulous, ’if you hear from Meenie, will you let me know?’
’But I am not likely to hear from her, lass,’ said he, with his hand
upon her shoulder. ’You must write to her yourself, and she will
answer, and send ye the news.’
’Mind ye pass the public-houses on the way gaun hame,’ said the elder,
by way of finishing up the evening with a joke: Ronald took no notice,
but bade the others good-bye, and opened the door and went out.
When he got into the street his first startled impression was that the
world was on fire—all the heavens, but especially the southern heavens,
were one blaze of soft and smoky blood-red, into which the roofs and
chimney-stacks of the dusky buildings rose solemn and dark. A pulsating
crimson it was, now dying away slightly, again gleaming up with a sudden
fervour; and always it looked the more strange and bewildering because
of the heavy gloom of the buildings and the ineffectual lemon-yellow
points of the gas-lamps. Of course he remembered instantly what this
must be—the glow of the ironworks over there in the south; and presently
he had turned his back on that sullen radiance, and was making away for
the north side of the city.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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