On the forenoon of the Fast Day, George Torrance, silent and serious, like a man bent on living up to a high ideal, set out with all his family to church. It was a brilliant summer day, and as they went along Willie could not help occasionally giving vent to his delight, when a golden butterfly wavered across his path, or a lark sprang up singing from a neighbouring grass field. But his unseasonable joy was frowned down by his father; and his mother said, "For ony sake, laddie, mind whatna day it is." When they came to the loch, there was Bob Fortune in the distance. He had taken off his shoes, and was lying on his back on the grass, and luxuriating in the sunshine. On seeing them, he rose up and waved to them. Willie had soon good reason for remembering that action. For the rest of his life, the image of the bright boy waving his hand never left his memory.
The services that day in the church, in which George Torrance was an elder, were solemn and long. First of all, the minister of the congregation, Mr. Peden, went up into the pulpit, gave out a psalm to be sung, and offered up a long prayer. Then, while a second psalm was being sung, he gave place to a reverend brother, Mr. Herd, of the Byres, who, not satisfied with the prayer already given, thought it necessary to engage in another of equal length. The sermon came next, severely doctrinal, many-headed, long-tailed; and then a short prayer and a psalm concluded the forenoon service. Mr. Torrance, in the interval, led his family to a room in a private house, where they silently lunched on baps and ale. The afternoon service was a repetition of that of the forenoon, with one of the long prayers left out.
Some people of the present day may be inclined to sneer at this service as "weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable." But to the intelligent and pious rustics who had few books, it was an intellectual and a spiritual treat, which edified and refreshed them. Their most heartfelt associations clustered round the church and its worship, and they could sing with genuine feelings the lines of the psalm:
"Blessed are they in Thy courts that dwell,
They ever give Thee praise."
A great mistake, however, was made in subjecting mere children to these ordinances. It was thought, indeed, that the preaching of the Word, though not understood, was bound to touch them and foster within them a love of religion. The very reverse, however, was often the result. Their bodies were wearied out, their minds were stupefied, and they formed disagreeable associations with the church, which were sometimes never dispelled.
Willie Torrance, in the afternoon especially, passed through a very disagreeable ordeal. He sat on a high, hard seat with his feet dangling in the air. Under the influence of the heat of the crowded church, and the monotonous tones of the minister, he fell fast asleep. Then he was roughly awakened by a nudge from his father, and a kick from his brother; and his mother whispered to him, "Sit up, and listen to the minister." The poor lad, rubbing his eyes, tried to obey her, but he could not understand a single scrap of the sermon. It was as meaningless and depressing to him as the moaning of the east wind at the kitchen window on a wild winter night. What could he do, therefore, but sit wearily, and allow his thoughts to stray to all sorts of things, and, above all, wonder what Bob was doing at the loch side, until the word "Amen" told him that the sermon was at last done, and the end of his imprisonment near. What a welcome sound had that word always been! It was the only part of a discourse that ever stirred him; and even in a dead sleep he could hear it, and waken up with the feeling that a wearisome ordeal was passed. Yet on that particular day when he came out into the sunshine, he did not experience his usual joy. A strange depression lay upon his spirits. He could not help feeling that God was angry with him for not listening to the sermon, and for not liking the church. He had also the apprehension that a punishment was hanging over him, and on this occasion that apprehension was fated to be realised.
On their way home, when they came near the loch, he saw that something unusual had happened. A group of people were standing on the bank, and talking excitedly; and two men, hurrying towards the village, whispered something to his father, who was in front. He heard the name, "Fortune," and in another minute he became conscious that a terrible calamity had befallen him. His boy friend and protector was drowned.
Two young men, in the course of the day, had come to the loch, and had got hold of a boat to have a row, and had invited Bob to go along with them. When they were at some distance from the land, the two young men fell into a dispute, and after the foolish manner of gawks, stood up in the boat and had some horse-play. In an instant the boat was upset, and the three occupants were in the water struggling for life. The young men managed, with difficulty, to reach the shore; but the boy, who was not a swimmer, could only cling to the bottom of the boat. For some time he struggled to get out of the water on to the keel, crying desperately all the while for help. But his brother could not swim, and the two young men were either too tired or too timid to venture to rescue him; and while they were standing wondering what they should do, the poor lad, worn out with his ineffectual struggles, sank out of sight. A minute afterwards, men from the neighbouring farm arrived in another boat, but it was too late. All they could do now was to recover the body. After an hour's dragging, it was found, placed on a barn door, and covered with a cloak to be carried home. The Torrances, on arriving at the loch side, saw the melancholy procession proceeding up the road by the Mill Farm.
This terrible disaster fell upon Willie like a blow, and stunned him. His powers were paralysed, and he could neither speak nor weep. He saw the loch, the excited groups on the shore, and the muffled figure, lying on the barn door, disappearing in the distance; but the whole scene appeared to be a terrible nightmare. This stupor continued as he walked home, and sat silent by the fire. But after he had gone to bed, his mother heard him sobbing, and, in a voice half-choked with tears, praying that God would restore to life his lost friend. And in the morning he was really hopeful that his prayer would be answered. God had raised the dead in past times, and why should He not do the same now? And he actually waited for his daily companion, looking up the pathway in the Back Planting, and expecting to see him, as formerly, coming bounding down like a deer. But he waited and looked in vain, and was obliged to set out for school alone.