Several horses, which had brought people from a distance, were quietly enjoying a dainty bite at the fresh grass, which grew in luxuriance by the stream, and upon the heights there were some mounted horsemen apparently keeping watch, in order to give timely alarm if any marauders likely to molest the company should appear in sight.
There might have been about five hundred people gathered together, when there appeared round one of the windings of the stream the familiar figure of the minister of Inverburn, leaning upon the arm of his son David. They had just emerged from their hiding in the Corbie's Cliff in order to conduct the service in the glen. Many eyes filled with tears at sight of their beloved minister, and they shook their heads mournfully at the visible change wrought in his appearance by the long months of anxiety and solitary confinement. The minister of Broomhill also looked worn and thin, and his hair was now as white as snow.
When the ministers reached the centre of the little throng, a few minutes were spent in mutual greetings, and then Mr. Gray the elder stepped to the front of the huge boulder which served as a pulpit, and upon which a white cloth was spread, with the Bible above it. Folding his withered hands, he said, in solemn and trembling tones, "Let us pray." It seemed as if Nature hushed her many sounds in unison with the stillness which fell upon the assembled worshippers as the long-loved voice of their minister, in choice and appropriate language, gave utterance to a fervent and expressive prayer to the God of Heaven. A portion of the seventy-ninth psalm was then read, and sung to the sweet and mournful strain of "Martyrs." The words:
"Against us mind not former sins.
Thy tender mercies show;
Let them prevent us speedily,
For we're brought very low."
were sung with an intense and passionate fervour which told that it was indeed the cry of every heart present, and that it was not mere lip service which had brought them thither, almost at the very peril of their lives.
Turning to the prophetic pages of Isaiah, the minister chose for his text these comforting and appropriate words, "O thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted; beloved, I will lay thy stones with fair colours, and lay thy foundations with sapphires.... In righteousness shalt thou be established; thou shalt be far from oppression, for thou shalt not fear; and from terror, for it shall not come near thee."
In his own earnest and persuasive manner the venerable servant of God endeavoured to comfort his flock, assuring them that though they were now passing through the bitter waters of affliction, the Lord would not utterly forget his ancient Zion, but would yet restore her to liberty and peace. As he earnestly exhorted them to continue steadfast in the faith, and to bear manfully their light affliction, which was but for a moment, and would work out its own exceeding weight of glory, his eyes glowed and shone, and his face was transfigured by the light of a holy enthusiasm which shed a warm and cheerful influence upon the hearts of his hearers, and restored their fainting courage, until they felt indeed able to do and dare without faltering for the sake of Him who trod before them the weary vale of persecution and shame.
It was a moving sight to look upon the eloquent face of the preacher, which bespoke the inmost feelings of his soul, and to see his thin white locks fluttering in the breeze, while his wasted hands were alternately folded or upraised to enforce his earnest words. The multitude, hushed into rapt and breathless stillness, were unconscious of a figure stealing swiftly up the glen, until a slight scream fell from the lips of a woman, and Susan Gray of Hartrigge interrupted the sermon by hastily running to meet what appeared to be a wayfaring man, whose ragged garb and miserable appearance proclaimed that he had been long on the road and had suffered many privations. The minister paused, and turned his eyes towards the wanderer, in whose changed countenance he recognised the features of his first-born son.
The unexpected arrival of Hartrigge broke up the conventicle, and his relations, who were all present, flocked round him, while his friends and neighbours pressed closely behind, eager to hear the story of his adventures. But he seemed breathless, and unable to speak for a moment, and then his words were of ominous import.
"It is surely madness to be holding a meeting here, and the dragoons so near! They have pursued me since daybreak, and I have only escaped through being familiar with every by-path on the way. Scatter yourselves quickly, for they will be upon us in a moment. Father and David, let us make haste together to our usual hiding. I have longed for the Corbie's Cliff all day."