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

by Annie S. Swan

In that moment of agonising suspense and apprehension, when he was striving to prepare for death, even with a soul yearning for life, his eye, as if guided by some unseen power, fell upon the wide, old-fashioned chimney, and in a moment his resolution was taken. Even when the foot of the enemy was on the very threshold of the outer door, the fugitive wrapped a plaid about his white night-clothes, and, committing himself to the God who had so often delivered him, he hastily scrambled up the chimney and out on to the roof. Jane Gray did not see him perform this extraordinary action, she having gone to accost, and, if possible, conciliate and delay, the officer at the outer door.

Without hesitating a moment, knowing he would speedily be observed on the roof, David Gray lay himself flat down, and, sliding down to the eaves, dropped to the ground in front of a mounted dragoon. The apparition in waving white garments terrified the horse, and caused him to rear and plunge wildly, so that his rider was almost unseated. In the momentary confusion that ensued the fugitive took to his heels, and in a brief space was out of sight and beyond pursuit. Meanwhile, quite unconscious of this miraculous escape, Jane Gray was endeavouring to parley with the officer at the door.

"Sorry to disturb your repose, sweet mistress," he said. "If you will but deliver up that renegade, David Gray, who is sheltering here, we will go away and leave you in peace."

"David Gray!" ejaculated Jane Gray, faintly; "what men-folk have we under this roof-tree, sir? The only stranger here is a relative, who has travelled a great distance on foot to sojourn awhile with us, if that be a fault in your eyes."

"Does the stranger wear a linsey-woolsey gown, a tartan plaid, and a white cap, and peddle ribbons and laces to the country lasses, eh?" queried the captain, with grim humour. "To show you that we do not doubt your word, bring out the old lady, so that we may pay our respects to her. Methinks we have met before."

At her wits' end, Jane Gray turned about and went into the room, which, to her astonishment, seemed to be empty. The captain followed her, and, not finding the fugitive there, strode into the kitchen. Susan Gray and Nannie were there, and it needed but one glance at their faces to tell him that neither was the person he sought.

"Your kinswoman has hidden herself, I perceive," he said, grimly. "You had better bid her come forth, or I will give orders to set the place on fire. I have no time to dally here; it is time all honest folk were in bed."

"We are guiltless of hiding him you seek, sir," said Jane Gray, no longer attempting to deny that her brother had been sheltering with them. "And, truly, where in this small abode could he hide? It is a mystery to me where he has gone, unless, indeed, the Lord hath miraculously aided his escape."

At that moment one of the dragoons came hurrying in to say that the prisoner had without doubt made his escape from the roof, and was already beyond pursuit. Then the captain fell into a great rage, and cursed and swore in a manner which made the women-folk tremble. And truly it was a sore disappointment to the man to have had so valuable and notable a Covenanter within his very reach, and yet to be baulked so simply. In his fury he was like to have taken the lives of the fugitive's kinswomen, but was persuaded by a more merciful subordinate to let them be in peace. Nevertheless, he caused lighted brands to be held to the thatched roof of the cottage, and, being dry as tinder, it immediately took fire.

In a short space of time the darkness of the night was illumined by the flames of the burning cottage, and the three defenceless women, now rendered indeed utterly homeless, hastily gathered such small but valuable things as they could carry, and, withdrawing themselves a little, watched the rapid destruction of the only shelter they could call their own on the face of the earth. Yet they could not feel utterly cast down, since God had so marvellously delivered the dear fugitive out of the hands of the pursuer once more. The captain and his troop immediately rode away down to the village, to inflict themselves on such of the inhabitants as could yet give them bite and sup and shelter for the night. Meanwhile David Gray fled, under the grateful cover of the darkness, by the familiar field-paths to poor Watty's famous hiding, where he knew he should find both shelter and comforting welcome from his brethren. His long residence in the cleugh had made him so familiar with it, that even in the darkness he had no difficulty whatever in finding the thicket which hid the cave. And yet he had to creep slowly and with caution, for the nettles and brambles and brushwood proved very formidable to his uncovered limbs, and his feet were already bleeding from coming into contact with the stones as he made his rapid flight from the cottage. As he came up nearly to the mouth of the cave, he gave a long, low whistle, which Jane had told him was a signal understood by those in hiding. In a few minutes it was answered by a similar sound, and the brushwood was carefully swept aside from the mouth of the cave, and he saw the figure of a man.