“May we ask you, young man,” said the clergyman, “how it has happened that you have so alarmed our peaceful neighbourhood?”
The poor prodigal succinctly stated the way of his imprisonment in the aisle; and with this explanation the charitable old clergyman seemed perfectly satisfied. Not so, however, was his ruling elder, who, deeming his presence and authority indispensable in any matter for which the parish bell could be rung, had early rushed to the scene of alarm, and was now in the manse, at the head of a number of the villagers. He, on the contrary, saw it necessary to remark (glancing at his superior for approbation),—
“Sae, mind, young man, in times future, what comes of sleeping in the time of two peeous and yedifying discoorses.”
“A good caution, John,” said the mild old minister; “but we must make allowances.”
“Was it you that struck me down?” said Richard eagerly to an old man, who, with evident sorrow working in his hard muscular face, stood watching this scene with intense interest, and who, indeed, was his own father.
Smitten to the heart by this sudden question of the youth, ashamed of his own violent spirit on such a night, and grieved, after the explanation given, for the condition of the poor lad before him, old Sinclair groaned, turned quickly half round, shifted his feet in the agony of avowal,—then seizing his unknown prodigal boy by the hand, he wrung it eagerly, and said,—
“There’s my hand, young man, in the first place; and now, it was me indeed that struck you down, but I thought——”
“Oh! my prophetic conscience!” interrupted the poor prodigal, whilst he looked his father ruefully in the face, and returned fervently the squeeze of his hand. “Make no apologies to me, thou good old man; thy blow was given under a most just dispensation.”
“I sent two neighbours,” said the old man, still anxious to explain, “to see that all was right about the grave. I heard the alarm, and came off wi’ my stick in my hand. I heard them crying to stop ye, for ye were a resurrectionist. I saw ye jumping suspiciously into the planting. Ye maun forgie me the rest, young man, for I thought ye had been violating the grave of a beloved wife.”
“My own poor mother!” sobbed forth the prodigal.