CHAPTER IV. THE PRISON AND THE TOMB.
It would not be my painful task to record these and still other mournful scenes if it had been God's time to awake for us; but he who in his very chastenings "doeth great things, which we cannot comprehend," for his glory and the good of those who love him, had decreed for us a long and weary time of weeping. So it was that the ruffians, seeing that they had made sure work, took my father from our embrace, and we never saw him more. In vain we entreated that we might at least be permitted to bind his wound.
"Let him bleed," said the leader. "It will do him good to lose some of his rebellious Covenanting blood. He will be mair gentle after the loss of it."
Why they did not molest Alexander I cannot say, unless, being strangers, they did not know he was a minister. They looked sharply at him and Steenie.
"Gang straight noo, my lads, for ye hae seen what ye may come to," said one, as a parting admonition.
We were all too sad for speech. Two of the inmates of our house lay dead in our presence; the head of the family had been taken from us, to what fate we knew not. Human effort was powerless. We could only commit our griefs and anxieties to Him without whose notice not even a sparrow falls. How much more would he watch over our father, his faithful servant.
Without doubt it is God's will that some should glorify him in the furnace of affliction; and we may not question his providences, mysterious though they be. We are to "be still and know that he is God." Sometimes we are allowed to see why and how he leads us; when we cannot see we must trust.
But we had to rouse ourselves to action. We had mournful duties to perform for the dead in our midst, and we did the best we could in our sad, excited state. Steenie went for David and Bessie McDougal and a few other neighbors, and they performed the labor of caring for the dead. Words were useless, and few were spoken.