Adam Hepburn's Vow: A Tale of Kirk and Covenant

by Annie S. Swan

Poor Watty McBean's hole in the Witches' Cleugh had indeed been of great benefit to many fugitives, and it had never been empty since the fleeing after the slaughter at Bothwell. During the next day the minister of Broomhill repaired in his disguise to that safe hiding, in order to see the brethren there, and so commune with them regarding their present state, and the future fate or welfare of them and such as them. As he pursued his way leisurely along the sequestered and lonely paths which led to the cleugh, he mused much on the wonderful way in which the Lord had led him hitherto. He also marvelled within himself that he had been so long spared, and in his heart there was a petition that he might be made willing and glad to continue his suffering and weary way through life, until the Lord should see fit to call him to Himself. These profitable and godly communings were interrupted somewhat summarily by the abrupt appearance of two dragoons, who came rapidly riding up from the direction of the cleugh, and who immediately drew rein at the sight of the woman, as they imagined the wayfarer to be.

"Hulloa, mistress! do you know anything of that confounded lair where so many Whigs sleep in safety?" queried one, fixing his piercing eye on the face of David Gray.

"Truly the Whigs have had many hiding places in this district," he answered, mildly. "To what one do you specially refer?"

"Faith, I hardly know; it is somewhere about these hills or in the valley between," said the dragoon, pointing backward to the cleugh. "We are creditably informed that several very noted rebels were concealed there, and me and my mate swore an oath that we should find the place, which has baffled the king's soldiers so long. We have made a thorough search, but can find no clue."

"I never heard of any place of concealment among those hills," said David Gray. "Those who are so eager to inform sometimes overreach themselves, and----"

"Leave the hag in peace, Munro!" interrupted the younger man, impatiently. "I believe she is right enough, and we were told lies to beguile us. I for one will get away out of this confounded district with what speed I can. My horse is dead lame, see, stumbling through that accursed ravine."

Marvelling much at the very easy manner in which he had escaped questioning, David Gray watched the two ride away, but did not then pursue his way to the cleugh, lest he should unwittingly betray his brethren. But his soul, long separated from such as had suffered like persecutions with him, was yearning for the sweet fellowship of brotherly counsel, both for the strengthening of his own hands and heart, and also to learn, if possible, whether any of the more noted saints were still alive. He felt himself deeply and peculiarly blessed in the communion he was privileged to obtain with that poor remnant of his kinsfolk still dwelling in the parish of Inverburn, and during the evening of that day the women and the young folk at Hartrigge were much edified with his conversation and with his exposition of the Word. It was long, indeed, since such a joy had been vouchsafed to them. Owing to the somewhat limited accommodation of the humble dwelling which now sheltered the Grays, the lad, Sandy, went down to Inverburn to sleep in the house of an old woman, who gladly gave him shelter for his father's sake. Nannie, with her aunts, abode in the kitchen, and the best end was given up to the minister. They retired early to rest, and in spite of the troubles and anxieties which encompassed them, very soon all beneath the roof-tree of the cottage were asleep. The atmosphere had been dull and heavy all day, and the night was dark and starless; the low-hanging, sullen presaging rain, of which the parched earth stood in sore need. About midnight Susan Gray, who slept lightly, was awakened by a sound she had heard so often during these past weary years, that she could not mistake it now. It was the tramp of hoofs, and in a moment a wild fear that even already the minister was betrayed took possession of her soul. Hastily awaking Jane, both strang up, threw on their outer garments, and stealing over to the casement, which was a little ajar to admit the fresh air, they peered fearfully out. The night was utterly, intensely dark, and they could see nothing, but they could hear now both the trampling and the snorting of horses, and also at a little distance the low, eager voices of men. Through the still, soundless air their strained ears caught these words:--

"He shall not escape us this time, I swear! Egad! it was a clever disguise!--a wench's idea, without doubt. To think that old hag we met peddling her wares in Walston was that veritable heretic David Gray, and we knew it not! It is enough to make a man ashamed of himself!"

Swiftly and silently Jane Gray stole across the narrow passage to the inner room, and awakened her brother, who was enjoying a very sound and refreshing repose. By the time she had made him aware of the danger at hand, the troop had quite surrounded the house, and a great noise broke the stillness of the summer night.

David Gray sprang from his bed to the floor, thinking his hour was come. And yet, was it but to be slain in cold blood like this that the Lord had let him get clear away both from the slaughter at Bothwell and the wearisome captivity of the Greyfriars?