'Whisht woman! yer tongue's rinnin' awa wi' ye. Gin yell juist ca' canny, an' do biddin', ye'se do far mair for Tibbie nor I cud. Ye see, Luckie, I'm juist as ane micht say, naething but a puir earthen vessel, no gude for muckle, wi' nae gear, an' sma' wut to gather't wi'. What wad ye say noo til a gentleman for Tib? It's what the lassie ocht to hae gotten wi' her bonnie face, an' gin what a' the folk says was true, belike she'd get ane.'
'I kenna what ye're drivin' at, my man, but gin ye're gaun to send me on a fule's errand, an' sae gar me let ye aff, ye're sair mistaen; an' gin ye come na in whiles as ye gang by an' gie the lass her dues o' coortin', fair out afore folk, I'se gang down til auld MacSiccar, an' he'll hae ye up afore the Shirra, or I'm mistaen, an' syne yell ken whether a law plea or a waddin' taks maist siller, an' aiblins ye'll hae to wive wi' her a' the same.'
'But hoo wid ye like the minister e'y stead o' the bederal? wadna that be something worth while? The folk thinks that's the richts o't a' e'y noo. An' gin ye'll juist haud them on their ain gate, an' keep yer ain jaws steekit--wha kens? A minister wad wed wi' the Deil's ain--dochter afore he'd hae himsel' or the Kirk misca'd. The folk says yon's Tibbie's bairn he taks tent on, doon by, an' what for need ye fash to deny't? gin the wein cam out o' the sea he'll can bring nae pruif, an' the folk hae taen't i' their heids to think the ither thing, sae gin ye wad juist threip the same gate aiblins ye'd get yer way o't.'
'The Lord forgie ye, Joseph Smiley, for a blackhearted, twa-faced vagabond! Ye ken weel what a gude maister the minister's been to you, an' ye wad turn round an' gar me lee awa his gude name! But tak ye tent! There was ance anither, gaed to betray a gude master, for the sake o' what he'd mak out o't, an' he gaed an' hanged himsel' afore a' was done--Wha kens? The hemp may be baith sawn an' pued 'at's to mak yer ain grawvit! An' noo I gie ye fair warnin', gin ye come-na by afore Wednesday, I'se gang til auld MacSiccar; sae nae mair o' yer parryin'.' And with a portentous shake of the head she departed.
Joseph was little discomposed; he could hardly expect so startling a proposal to be received otherwise than with indignation, and yet, as by an off chance, it might bear fruit after all. The evil seed just scattered wanted time to germinate, some corner of her mind might yet prove to be a congenial soil, and it might spring up yet in a crop of lies to serve his turn.
Returning home he came upon Ebenezer Prittie, merchant and postmaster, and one of the elders of the church. Ebenezer was a quiet plain man and zealous,--all his life he had heard of the Covenanters, their heroism and their sufferings, and had been taught to think of them as the summit and flower of his country's glory. He felt it to be a privilege to be admitted to their sacred brotherhood, through being a member and office-bearer of the Free Church, and his only misgiving was on account of the exceeding ease of the process, and its cheapness--an entering as it were on the privileges attached to the martyr's crown, at half price. Fighting wild beasts at Ephesus, wielding the sword of the Lord and of Gideon at Drumclog, escaping through the hill mists of the morning from the pursuing troopers of Claverhouse,--to be made heir to, and sharer in, all those deeds of heroism by paying the modern equivalent of so much self-sacrifice, contributing a penny a week to the Sustentation Fund, and sundry moderate payments to the schemes of the church, was cheap indeed. The ministers said so, of course they knew, and why was he to object because the burden was light? He could but support his church all the more warmly if its yoke was easy, and he would do his very best for its advancement.
Rumours about strange conduct on the part of the minister had begun to sift and whisper through the village. With whom they had originated no one could say; known circumstances were appealed to in corroboration, and every one shook his head; but there was no one who stood forward as accuser, and each seemed afraid of the sound of his own voice, in uttering the first word against their hitherto blameless pastor.
Ebenezer having shut up the Post Office had walked along the road to breathe the evening air before retiring for the night. He mused over the rumour as he went, and when Joseph, returning from the 'tent' appeared before him, it was but natural that the subject in his thoughts should come first to his lips.
'What's a' this clashin' about? Joseph Smiley. Ye beut to ken.'
'What clashes, Mester Prittie? Folk wull be aye claverin' ye ken. An' them 'at kens least has aye maist to say about it. For mysel' it taks a' my sma' wuts to mind my ain business.'