"I don't understand you, Patient. I suppose these Prelatists are some sect that I have not heard anything about," said Celia, with much simplicity, for she never supposed that Patient's stern condemnation was levelled against her own Church, and would have been sorely grieved and bewildered had she known it. "Go on, if you please."
Patient did not explain, and proceeded with her history.
"When the late King James became King, on the death of his brother, he put forth a proclamation granting liberty of conscience unto all sects whatsoever. For a time the Puritans rejoiced in this mercy, thinking it a favor unto them, but later they became aware that 'twas but a deceit to extend ease unto the Papists. Maggie and Agnes Wilson, the which were in hiding, did shortly after this proclamation venture into the town, being wishful to speak with their kinsfolk. They never reached their kith, being betrayed by one Patrick Stewart, who came upon them with a band of men, and lodged them in the thieves' hole. Thence they were shifted to another chamber, wherein Margaret Maclauchlan already abode. Thomas Wilson, their brother, did strive to set them free, thereby but harming himself;[[11]] and they were had up afore the Sheriff,[[12]] and the Provost,[[13]] and some others. The indictment of them was for attending field-conventicles, and for joining in the rebellion at Bothwell Bridge and Airsmoss,—they, poor feeble souls, never having been near the same places. The jury brought the charge in proven, and the three women were doomed to be justified[[14]] by water. They were to be tied to stakes below the mark of the tide, in the water of Blednoch, near Wigtown, until they should be dead, the tide sweeping over them in its flow. Howbeit the Lord restrained them of having their will upon the young maid Agnes. Maybe they were nigh shamed to justify such a bairn: however, they tarried in her case. But on the day appointed, which, as I said, was May 11th, one named Windram, being in command over a band of soldiers, did hale Margaret Maclauchlan and Margaret Wilson to the place of execution. The first stake, whereto Margaret Maclauchlan was tied, was fixed much deeper in the bed of the river than the other, they hoping that Maggie Wilson should be feared at her death, being the sooner, and so brought to recant. Moreover, one of the town officers did with his halbert press and push down the poor old wife, who, having the lesser suffering of the two, was soon with the Lord. As she strave in the bitterness of death, quoth one to Maggie Wilson, 'What think ye of that?' 'Nay,' quoth she, 'what do I see but Christ in one of His members struggling there!' Then Maggie, bring tied unto the nearer stake, after singing of a Psalm,[[15]] did read a chapter of the Word,[[16]] and prayed, so that all might hear. And while she was a-praying, the water overflowed her. And to see the devilish cruelty of these men! they left her till she was nigh dead, and then, lifting her out of the water, did use all care and means to recover her, as if they meant mercy. But it was but that she might die over again. They murdered her twice over—poor, poor maid! for she was past feeling when they got her out. Then, when she could speak, this Windram did ask her if she would pray for the King. Much cause they had given her! She then answered that she wished the salvation of all men, and the damnation of none. Then a maid which stood by Duncan, and had sobbed and wept aforetime, which he thought must be of kin or friendly unto her, did cry most dolefully, 'Dear Margaret! oh say, "God save the King!" say, "God save the King!"' 'God save him if He will,' quoth she, 'for I desire his salvation.' Windram now drawing near, commanded her to take the oath unto the King, abjuring of the Solemn League and Covenant. 'I will not,' quoth she; 'I am one of Christ's children.' No sooner had she thus spoken, than one of the town's officers with his halbert thrust her back into the water, crying, 'Tak' anither drink, my hearty!' So she died."
"Patient!" said Celia, in a low, constrained voice, "did God let those men go scathless?"
"Not so, Madam. The town's officer that thrust her back was ever after that tormented with a thirst the which no draught could slake; and for many generations the children of the other, which kept down the old wife with his halbert, were all born with misshapen hands and feet."[[17]]
"Patient," said Celia again, in the same low reverent tone, "I wonder that He suffers such things to be!"
"I marvelled at that, Madam, years agone. It seemed very strange unto me that He suffered us to be haled down to the beach at the harrying of Lauchie, and that the storm should come on us and cut off so many lives of His servants. It exercised me very sore."
"And how did you settle it, Patient?"
"I do not know that I should have settled it, Madam, had I not met with an ancient gentleman, a minister, that used at one time to visit Mr. Francis in Paris here. He was a reverend man by the name of Colville, one of mine own country, that had fled out of Scotland of old time, and had been dwelling for many years in Switzerland and Germany."
"Was he akin to this Mr. Colville who is Philip's friend?"