Chapter Nineteen.
Katie’s Word.
Grannie’s brave heart did not fail her. She had much to comfort her at this time of trouble.
Seldom had there been a more favourable spring for the getting in of the crops, and never even at Ythan Brae had the spring work been done better, or in better time.
Davie was far enough from being perfect yet in many respects, and his grandmother did not consider it her duty, or for his good, to let him forget his faults. But she made amends to herself, if not to him, by rejoicing over him and his steadiness and goodness to his mother and Katie. None of her rebukes or cautions were needed where his grandfather was concerned, and she could not but wonder sometimes at the lad’s forbearance, for the old man’s burden of care made him weary and irritable often.
Katie’s dairy, so long talked of and planned for, was in use now, though it was not quite finished to her mind yet. Davie made use of his spare minutes on rainy days to add to its conveniences. In the meantime it was clean and cool. The Ythan burn rippled softly through it, and with a free use of its limpid waters, and a judicious use of the limited treasure of ice which they had secured during the last winter months, Katie made such butter as bade fair to win her a reputation which might in course of time rival that of her grandmother. They had two more cows in the pasture than ever they had had before; but ambitious to do much, and to make much money for their possible time of need, and being perfectly healthy and strong, Katie laughed at the idea of having too much to do, and could have disposed, in the village, of twice as much of her delicious butter as her dairy could produce.
Everything seemed to promise a profitable summer, and a pleasant summer too, notwithstanding the knowledge that whatever evil was to come on them through Jacob Holt could not be long averted now.
“Katie,” said Davie, “do you ken what they are saying about grandfather now? They say that—”
“But who are saying it? If you tell me who they are, I’ll soon tell you what they are saying. Though it matters little anyway.”
“Well, you needna fly out at me. I’m no’ saying it,” said Davie, laughing. “And as for they, I might as well say he, or maybe she. It was Ben Holt who told me. He heard his Aunt Betsey telling his grandmother. But it came from Mrs Jacob in the first place. She says that poor old Mr Fleming is not right in his mind, and that something will have to be done about it.”
“Davie!” gasped Katie, “how dare you?”
Davie looked up startled. Katie’s face crimsoned first, and then went very white.
“Oh, Davie, Davie! How could you say it?” and her tears gushed forth.
“But, Katie—such nonsense! I didna say it. Do be reasonable. I shouldna have told you. But why should we heed what they say?”
It took Katie a good while to get over the shock she had received, and Davie sat watching her a little shamefaced and sorry, saying to himself what queer creatures girls were, and what an especially queer creature Katie was, and he wished heartily that he had said nothing about it.
But Katie was not shocked in the way that Davie supposed. It was not that she was indignant at Mrs Jacob for saying such a thing of her grandfather. That there should be anything in her grandfather’s words or ways to make the saying of such things possible made the pain. For a terrible fear had come upon Katie. Or rather, by the constant watching of her grandmother’s looks and words, she had come to the knowledge that she feared for the old man something which she had never put into words.
It was Sunday afternoon, a lovely June day, and they were sitting at the foot of the little knoll under the birch-tree, where the two Holts had found them on that Sunday morning long ago. The rest of the bairns had gone with their mother to the Sunday-school at the Scott school-house as usual, and their grandfather and grandmother were sitting together in the house. Davie had been sitting there too, with his book in his hand, but he had not enjoyed it much; he had nodded over it at last and dropped asleep, and then grannie had bidden him go out to the air for a while and stretch himself, adding to his grandfather as he went:
“He’s wearied with his week’s work, poor laddie, and canna keep his eyes open, and it will do him good to stroll quietly down the brae to the burn. And Katie, lassie, you can go with him for a little till the bairns and your mother come home.”
So, her grandfather saying nothing, Katie went well pleased, and the two soon found themselves at their favourite place of rest, at the point where the Ythan begins to gurgle and murmur over the stones at the foot of the birch knoll.
They had both changed a good deal since the day the Holts found them sitting there. There seemed a greater difference in their ages than there had seemed then, for Katie, as bonnie and fresh as ever, was almost a woman now. Davie was a boy still, long and lank, and not nearly so handsome as he used to be, but there was promise of strength and good looks too, when a few years should be over. He had worked constantly and hard for the last year, and he stooped a little sometimes when he was tired, and Katie was beginning to fear lest he should become round-shouldered and “slouching,” and was in the way of giving him frequent hints about carrying himself uprightly, as he went about the farm. But he was as fine a young fellow as one could wish to see, and his looks promised well for the manhood that did not lie very far before him.
They were silent for a good while after Katie’s outburst. She sat on the grass, her hands clasped round her knees, and her eyes fixed on the rippling water of the burn. Davie lay back on the grass with his head on his clasped hands regarding her. She turned round at last with a grave face.
“I cannot understand it, Davie. I suppose Jacob Holt is not a good man, and grandfather thinks he did him a great wrong long ago, and that he is only waiting for an opportunity to do him still another. But yet it seems strange to me that grandfather should care so much, and be so hard on him. It should not matter so much to him, for Jacob Holt is but a poor creature after all.”
Davie looked at her in astonishment.
“Is that the way you look at it? Do you know what happened long ago?”
“I don’t know, nor do you; but we can guess. And even grannie thinks him hard on Jacob. Oh, Davie; it is a terrible thing not to be able to forget.”
Davie said nothing, and Katie went on:
“I hate myself for thinking that grandfather may not be right in everything, so good as he is, so upright and so true. He never did a mean or unjust deed in all his life. If he is not one of God’s people, who is? And yet, Davie, the Bible says, ‘If ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father in heaven forgive your trespasses.’ And to think that one like Jacob Holt should have the power to harden a good man’s heart like that!”
“What do you suppose grannie would think if she were to hear you?” said Davie in amazement.
“Of course I wouldna speak to grannie, or to any one else but you. And whiles I think that grannie herself is feared at his silence, and—and at his unchangeableness,” said Katie, with an awed look. “And grandfather is growing an old man now, and what will it matter to him in a little while about Jacob Holt or any other man?”
Davie got up and walked about restlessly for a while, and when he came and stood before her on the other side of the burn, Katie want on again:
“Grandfather must ken that the Lord knows about it all, and that it is sure ‘to work for good’ to him, as the Bible says it must. ‘All things,’ it says. And the Lord knew grandfather’s trouble long ago, and grandfather knows that He knew it, and it is a wonder that he should never be comforted.”
“It is something that we canna understand,” said Davie gravely. “But, Katie, grandfather is not ay dwelling on it as you suppose. Did he ever do an ill deed to Jacob Holt, or say an ill word of him? He canna be friendly with him, because he canna trust him or respect him. But as to not forgiving him—that is not likely.”
“But, Davie, he hasna spoken a word to Jacob Holt for years. He has not heard his name spoken—unless by the old squire, who forgets things whiles. None of us name him in his hearing, nor the neighbours. And all this about the land and the site for the mills is not natural, is it, if he has forgiven and forgotten? And it is not Christian, if he has not,” added Katie with a sob.
“And what you mean by all this is, that—that something is the matter with him—as Mr Jacob said,” and Davie turned angry eyes on his sister.
“Davie, I whiles think grannie is feared. She is ay longing for his home-coming when he is away. And I hear her speaking softly to him when they are alone. And I hear him often praying in the night; last night it was for hours, I think. Oh, Davie! and then grannie went to him, and he went back to his bed again, and grannie looked, oh, so white and spent in the morning.”
“And he was at Pine-tree Hollow the other night,” said Davie.
“Yes! And grannie went to meet him, and my mother was waiting for them at the gate, and she burst out crying when she saw them coming home together through the gloaming.”
They sat for a long time silent after that. Indeed, there was not another word spoken till they heard the children’s voices, and knew that it was time to go to the house again. Then Katie stooped and laved the water on her tear-stained face before she turned to go.
“It will all work for good, Katie, you may be sure of that,” said her brother huskily, as they went up the brae together.
“Yes, to those who love Him. So the promise is good for grannie and him—and, oh, Davie! if we were only sure for us all.”
There were smiles on Katie’s face when she said this, and tears too, and it was doubtful which of them would have way, till her grandfather’s voice settled it. She had only smiles for him, as he came out at the door with his staff in his hand, and looking as if he needed it to lean upon, but looking, at the same time, brighter and more like himself than Katie had seen him for a while. She turned and went with him toward the pasture-bars, his favourite walk. They went slowly on together, speaking few words, content to be silent in each other’s company.
It was a bonny day, the old man said, and the grass was fine and green; and Katie bade him look at the barley turning yellow already, and at the purple shadows on the great hay-field as the wind passed over it.
“I like to watch them,” said Katie, “and, grandfather, doesna it mind you of the waves of the sea?”
Her grandfather shook his head.
“It’s a bonny sight, but it is no like the waves of the sea.”
And thus a word dropped here and there till they came to the pasture-bars. The sheep and the young lambs crowded together close to the bars over which they leaned, expecting the usual taste of salt from their hands, and old Kelso and her colt neighed their welcome. It was a peaceful, pleasant scene, and would do her grandfather good, Katie said to herself joyfully. But in a minute her heart gave a sudden throb, as with a look at her face, from which neither the water of the burn, nor the mild sweet air had quite effaced the traces of tears, he said gravely:
“And what was it that Davie was saying to you as you came up the brae?”
Katie gave a quick look into his face, and her eyes fell, and she could not utter a word.
“Was he vexing you with his nonsense? Was he scolding you, my lassie?”
“Davie! Oh, grandfather! I would never heed Davie. And besides, it is I who scolded Davie,” added she with a laugh, much relieved.
“I dare say he’s no’ out of the need of it whiles, though he maybe needs it less than he once did.”
“Yes, indeed! grandfather. Is he not steady now? As good as gold?”
“As gold? Well, gold is good in its place, if it could be kept there. And what were you two discoursing about, down yonder by the burn?”
It never came into Katie’s mind that she could answer him otherwise than indirectly.
“We were speaking—about you, grandfather, and about—Jacob Holt.”
“Well?”
“And Davie was saying how impossible it was that anything that that man can do could hurt you, grandfather.”
“He thinks he kens, does he?”
“But he says everybody kens that, though Jacob is a greedy man, he is but a poor creature, and wouldna dare to harm you, because all Gershom would cry out against him if he were to do his will.”
“I’m no’ sure of that. But, indeed, I think he has done his worst on me already.” And the look, the dark look, that always brought the shadow to grannie’s eyes came over his face as he said it. Katie’s heart beat hard, but her courage rose to the occasion, and she said softly and reverently:
“It was God’s will, grandfather, and surely Jacob must be sorry now.”
The old man uttered a sound between a groan and a cry.
“Was it God’s will? It was a great sin, and God has never punished him for it. Lassie, you little ken.”
“No, grandfather, but God kens. And it was His will,” repeated Katie, not knowing what to say.
“God’s will! Ay, since He permitted it; we can say nothing else. But that it should be God’s will that yon man should have a name and a place here—and it may be, hereafter—passes me.”
Except to his wife, Mr Fleming had never spoken such words before, and the pain and anger on his face it was sorrowful to see.
“Grandfather, don’t you mind how, at the very last, our Lord said, ‘Father, forgive them’?”
He had been sitting, with his face averted from her, but he turned now with a strange, dazed look in his eyes:
“Ay. And He said, ‘Love your enemies,’ and ‘Forgive and ye shall be forgiven.’ And Katie, my bonny woman, I canna do it.”
Katie slid down to the ground beside him, and laid her wet face on his knee without a word. What was there to be said, only “God comfort him, God comfort him?” and she said it many times in the silence that came next.
By and by the clouds drifted toward the west and hid the sun, and it seemed to grow dreary and chill around them.
“We’ll go to the house to your grandmother,” said he at last in a voice that to Katie seemed hard and strange.
Was he angry with her? Ought she not to have spoken? She dared not ask him, but she touched his hand with her lips, and wet it with her tears before she rose. He took no notice, but said again: “We’ll go home to your grandmother;” and no word was spoken till they reached the house, and then Katie slipped away out of sight, lest her grandmother should see her tears.
But as the days went on she knew that he was not angry. He was very grave and silent, and grannie was never quite at rest when he was long out of sight. But summer wore on, and nothing happened to make one day different from another till haying-time came.