She was partly right. It was better for them all when Hamish came home. He was well, for him, and cheerful. He had never imagined how sadly the time was passing at home, or he would not have stayed away so long. He was shocked at the wan looks of the two girls, and quite unable to understand how they should have grown so troubled at a few weeks’ or even a few months’ delay. His wonder at their trouble did them good. It could not be so strange—the silence and the delay—or Hamish would surely see it. The mother was better too after the return of Hamish. The sight of him, and his pleasant, gentle talk, gave a new turn to her thoughts, and she was able again to take an interest in what was going forward about her; and when there came a return of the old restlessness and pain, it was Hamish who stayed in the house to soothe her and to care for her, while Shenac betook herself with her old energy to the harvest-field.
The harvest passed. Dan kept very steady at it, though every night he went to the new kirk, where the meetings were still held. He did not say much about these meetings even when questioned, but they seemed to have a wonderful charm for him; for night after night, wet or dry, he and Angus Dhu’s man, Peter, walked the four miles that lay between them and the new kirk to hear—“What?” Shenac asked one night.
“Oh, just preaching, and praying, and singing.”
“But that is nonsense,” insisted Shenac. “You are not so fond of preaching as all that. What is it, Dan?”
“It’s just that,” said Dan; “that is all they do. The minister speaks to folk, and sometimes the elders; and that’s all. But, Shenac, it’s wonderful to see so many folk listening and solemn, as if it was the judgment day; and whiles one reads and prays—folk that never used; and I’m always wondering who it will be next. Last night it was Sandy McMillan. You should have heard him, Shenac.”
“Sandy McMillan!” repeated Shenac contemptuously. “What next, I wonder? I think the folk are crazed. It must be the singing. I mind when I was at Uncle Allister’s last year I went to the Methodist watch-meeting, and the singing—oh, you should have heard the singing, Hamish! I could not keep back the tears, do what I would. It must be the singing, Dan.”
Dan shook his head.
“They just sing the psalms, Shenac. I never heard anything else—and the old tunes. They do sound different, though.”
“Well, it goes past me,” said Shenac. “But it is all nonsense going every night, Dan—so far too.”
“There are plenty of folk who go further,” said Dan. “You should go yourself, Shenac.”