“God help thee, my son! He can help when worldly trust is a broken reed.”—Such was the welcome of the matron to her unfortunate grandson. He looked eagerly round, holding two of his sisters by the hand, while the third hung about his neck—“I see you—I count you—my grandmother, Lilias, Jean, and Annot; but where is—” (he hesitated, and then continued, as if with an effort), “Where is Grace? Surely this is not a time to hide hersell frae me—there’s nae time for daffing now.”
“O, brother!” and “Our poor Grace!” was the only answer his questions could procure, till his grandmother rose up, and gently disengaged him from the weeping girls, led him to a seat, and with the affecting serenity which sincere piety, like oil sprinkled on the waves, can throw over the most acute feelings, she said, “My bairn, when thy grandfather was killed in the wars, and left me with six orphans around me, with scarce bread to eat, or a roof to cover us, I had strength,—not of mine own—but I had strength given me to say, The Lord’s will be done!—My son, our peaceful house was last night broken into by moss-troopers, armed and masked; they have taken and destroyed all, and carried off our dear Grace. Pray for strength to say, His will be done!”
“Mother! mother! urge me not—I cannot—not now I am a sinful man, and of a hardened race. Masked armed—Grace carried off! Gie me my sword, and my father’s knapsack—I will have vengeance, if I should go to the pit of darkness to seek it!”
“O my bairn, my bairn! be patient under the rod. Who knows when He may lift His hand off from us? Young Earnscliff, Heaven bless him, has taen the chase, with Davie of Stenhouse, and the first comers. I cried to let house and plenishing burn, and follow the reivers to recover Grace, and Earnscliff and his men were ower the Fell within three hours after the deed. God bless him! he’s a real Earnscliff; he’s his father’s true son—a leal friend.”
“A true friend indeed; God bless him!” exclaimed Hobbie; “let’s on and away, and take the chase after him.”
“O, my child, before you run on danger, let me hear you but say, HIS will be done!”
“Urge me not, mother—not now.” He was rushing out, when, looking back, he observed his grandmother make a mute attitude of affliction. He returned hastily, threw himself into her arms, and said, “Yes, mother, I CAN say, HIS will be done, since it will comfort you.”
“May He go forth—may He go forth with you, my dear bairn; and O, may He give you cause to say on your return, HIS name be praised!”
“Farewell, mother!—farewell, my dear sisters!” exclaimed Elliot, and rushed out of the house.