Duncan Polite, the Watchman of Glenoro — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
Duncan Polite, the Watchman of Glenoro
John Stuart Mill · en
There was a long silence, broken only by the distant sounds of the
village. To the matter-of-fact Andrew Johnstone the mystic Highlander
was a puzzle; but his faith and sympathy remained unabated. Duncan had
never fully opened his heart before, and his friend stood awed at the
depths revealed. He had little to say in reply; the elder was a man
whose emotions, except that of righteous indignation, were kept
suppressed. But every word of his old friend sank deep into his heart.
He parted with a word of comfort.
"We mustna' forget that the Lord has us a' in His hands, Duncan," he
said awkwardly, as he rose to go, feeling strange in his entirely new
role of comforter to the hopeful one. "He is all-wise, an' He kens, ye
mind."
"Oh, indeed yes, indeed yes." Duncan's tone was full of contrition for
his late despair. "He will be a very present help in time of trouble."
But he sat at his dark little window, looking over at the place of his
covenant until the shadowy, ethereal greyness of the dawn concentrated
itself in a glorious bar on the eastern horizon and gradually grew into
the great awakening of another day.
He had been disturbed in his meditations and prayers only once. At
about midnight, a laughing crowd of young folk passed the house on
their way to the village. They were returning from a husking bee.
Duncan could hear their noisy, gay chatter, and among the merriest
voices he could distinguish the one that he had once hoped would call
all the youth of his valley to a higher and better life.
XI
COALS OF FIRE
When Donald Neil left Glenoro his pastor drew a breath of relief.
Donald's conduct towards him, since the day of the picnic had been
above reproach, but try as he would, he could not help associating all
his troubles with that young man. With his removal the minister was
not surprised to find that his affairs settled down to their old happy
level. The story of his youthful frivolity was dying out; when Coonie
furnished a new variation of it every day, sensible people ceased to
believe even the original. The young people, always ready to follow
him, convinced themselves, though somewhat reluctantly, that he had
acted rightly regarding the organ; and the older folk considered his
conduct in that affair wise beyond his years.