Bits from Blinkbonny; or, Bell o' the Manse

by John Strathesk

THE FOLKS AT GREENKNOWE.

I had been but a few months at home, when my father, whose health had been failing for some years, became a confirmed invalid. My brother’s death had not only affected his spirits, but injured his health, and within little more than a year after this heavy trial the old man was laid beside his wife and eldest son in the churchyard of Blinkbonny. My sisters, all of them older than myself, were married, excepting Maggie; and about a year after my father’s death Maggie became Mrs. M^cLauchlan, so that I was left a very young inmate of Bachelor Hall. When I had time to feel lonely I did so, but the demands of business kept me thoroughly employed; and although I joined habitually in the socialities of the neighbourhood, I did not seriously think of getting married until I was called on to act as bridegroom’s man to my schoolfellow and college companion, John M^cNab, now the Reverend John M^cNab. He married Mary Stewart of Greenknowe, the daughter of a small proprietor on the outskirts of our village. Her sister Agnes was bridesmaid, and we were necessarily brought a good deal into one another’s society. I had often met her before, and liked her in a general way, but at her sister’s marriage I came fully under the influence of her charms. There was something—well, something—I cannot describe it by any other word than just “something”—that fairly possessed me. For days afterwards she was in my head, in my dreams, in my heart. I will not describe our courtship; it was neither long nor romantic. I wooed and won her, got Mrs. Stewart’s consent, and on New Year’s Day 1841 we fixed that our marriage should take place in the last week of January.

Mrs. Stewart felt the cold weather severely, and could not venture to call at the manse to request Mr. Barrie, our worthy parish minister, to perform the ceremony. She asked Agnes to go in her stead, but Agnes could not muster courage to do so—she even felt too shy to write to Mr. Barrie; so, although it was not exactly according to the strict rules of etiquette I promised to call on Mr. Barrie next day, and to arrange the matter with him.

Blinkbonny. (Page 6).

The manse stood on the top of a piece of slightly rising ground, about a quarter of a mile to the south-west of the village. The situation was a pleasant one. It commanded on three sides extensive views of a well-cultivated country, backed by high and picturesque hills; the village bounded the view on the north-east. Near the manse stood the neat church, surrounded by the churchyard. There were also a park of about four acres, a garden covering nearly an acre, and some outhouses, the whole enclosed by a compact wall.

THE INTERRUPTED CALL.

I had been on intimate terms with all the inmates of the manse, from Bell, the only and worthy servant, upwards; but my errand made me feel rather confused, and instead of the usual off-hand remark to Bell, varying from, “Weel, Bell, hoo’s a’ wi’ ye?” to comments on the weather or crops, as suited the season, I bluntly asked if Mr. Barrie was engaged. There was a flavour of tartness in Bell’s manner as she replied, “Mr. Barrie’s aye thrang, but he’s aye ready to see onybody that wants him partic’larly. I’ll speir at him if he’s engaged,” and she disappeared. Mr. Barrie himself came to the door, shook hands with me with more than usual heartiness, put a special emphasis on the happy in wishing me “a happy New Year,” gave my hand a sort of squeeze, took a long look at me, and with a smirk on his face said, “Come in, Mr. Martin, come in.” He had not called me “Mr.” before, but only plain Robert; and from the blithe way in which he showed me into the “study,” I saw that he knew my position, if not my errand.

Our conversation was at first general, and on my side jerky. I did not follow up intelligently the subjects he introduced, but was either silent or rambling on quite irrelevant topics. He made a long pause, doubtless to induce me to lead, as he evidently saw I was not able to follow. The not uncommon weakness of Scotchmen, of trying to conceal strong emotions even on subjects on which they feel very keenly, was working in me. I was heart-glad at the prospect of my marriage, and well I might; but I wished to appear very cool, so, as if merely beginning another subject, I said in a conversational way, “I was once thinking of getting married.” Scarcely had I finished the sentence, when Bell announced that Sir John M^cLelland would like to speak to Mr. Barrie when he was disengaged. Knowing that Sir John was the largest landowner in the parish, and the patron of the church, and that he was taking an active part in a church extension scheme in which Mr. Barrie was deeply interested, I at once left the “study,” stating that I would call to-morrow night, and made for Greenknowe, where I was bantered by both ladies, but especially by Mrs. Stewart, when I told about “once thinking of getting married.”

Laying the emphasis first on the once, then on the thinking, then on both, she said, “Is that all the length you are? You should think twice—second thoughts are often best. Agnes, if you had either called or written as I wished, we could have had the invitations out to-day; but perhaps Robert will take the second thought to-night, and until he quite makes up his mind we must wait with patience.”