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"
Woodilee
!
"
Isobel
cried
.
"
If
Embro
’
s
a
stricken
bit
,
it
’
s
nae
waur
than
this
parochine
.
For
the
last
se
’
en
days
it
’
s
been
naething
but
wars
and
rumours
o
’
war
.
Ye
’
ll
hae
heard
o
’
how
Montrose
has
guidit
our
auld
Sion
,
and
now
we
’
ve
Antichrist
himsel
’
on
our
waterside
.
Ay
,
he
’
s
no
twenty
miles
across
the
hills
,
campin
’
with
his
Edomites
somewhere
on
Yarrow
,
as
welcome
as
snaw
in
hairst
.
The
lads
and
lasses
are
a
’
fleyed
out
o
’
the
sheilin
’
s
,
for
the
Yerl
o
’
Douglas
-
-
weary
fa
’
him
!
-
-
and
his
proud
horsemen
are
drovin
’
ower
frae
Clyde
like
craws
in
the
back
-
end
.
We
canna
move
man
nor
bestial
,
and
folk
winna
ride
the
roads
except
in
a
pack
,
and
they
tell
me
that
Amos
Ritchie
wi
’
his
auld
firelock
was
sent
for
to
convoy
the
minister
o
’
Bold
to
Kirk
Aller
.
The
weans
daurna
keek
past
the
doorstane
,
and
Johnnie
Dow
winna
gang
his
rounds
,
and
he
’
s
been
lyin
’
fou
at
Lucky
Weir
’
s
thae
three
days
.
There
’
s
nae
wark
done
in
a
’
Woodilee
,
nor
like
to
be
done
-
-
it
’
s
a
dowg
’
s
life
we
’
ve
gotten
,
muckle
ease
and
muckle
hunger
.
"
"
But
the
place
has
suffered
no
harm
?
"
"
No
yet
,
forbye
a
wedder
o
’
Richie
Smail
’
s
that
Douglas
’
s
dragoons
brandered
and
ate
yestreen
at
the
Red
Swire
.
But
ony
moment
a
vial
may
be
opened
.
-
-
What
hinders
Montrose
to
come
rauvagin
’
this
airt
?
for
if
it
’
s
meat
and
drink
he
’
s
seeking
for
his
sodgers
,
Woodilee
is
a
bien
bit
aside
yon
bare
Yarrow
hills
.
Forbye
Calidon
’
s
no
that
far
,
and
they
tell
me
that
our
auld
hirplin
’
laird
,
wha
suld
rather
be
thinkin
’
o
’
his
latter
end
,
is
high
in
the
command
o
’
the
ungodly
,
and
him
and
yon
sweirin
’
Tam
Purves
will
be
rampin
’
like
lions
in
their
pride
.
Hech
,
sir
,
our
kindly
folk
are
in
the
het
o
’
the
furnace
,
in
whilk
they
will
either
be
brunt
to
an
ass
,
or
come
out
purified
as
fine
gowd
.
But
what
am
I
claverin
’
here
for
,
when
ye
’
re
wantin
’
your
denner
?
It
’
s
little
I
hae
for
ye
,
for
our
meal
ark
is
nigh
toom
,
and
there
’
s
no
a
kain
hen
left
on
the
baulks
.
"
That
night
David
sat
long
in
his
study
.
It
was
now
the
sixteenth
day
of
September
,
and
the
sultry
weather
,
which
had
fostered
the
plague
,
was
sharpening
towards
autumn
.
He
had
returned
from
his
father
’
s
death
-
bed
in
something
of
the
mood
in
which
he
had
first
entered
the
manse
.
The
confusion
in
the
State
was
to
him
only
a
far
-
off
rumour
;
he
was
not
greatly
concerned
whether
Covenant
or
King
was
a
-
top
,
for
he
had
no
assurance
as
to
which
had
the
right
on
its
side
.
But
he
longed
for
peace
,
that
he
might
be
about
his
proper
business
,
for
the
charge
of
Woodilee
lay
heavy
on
his
soul
.
The
wickedness
against
which
he
had
raged
seemed
now
to
him
as
pitiful
as
it
was
terrible
,
a
cruel
seduction
of
Satan
’
s
against
which
he
must
contend
,
not
without
pity
for
the
seduced
.
Charity
filled
him
,
and
with
his
new
tenderness
came
hope
.
He
could
not
fail
in
the
struggle
before
him
-
-
God
would
not
permit
his
little
ones
to
be
destroyed
.
Had
he
not
forgotten
the
minister
in
the
crusader
?
His
books
caught
his
eye
-
-
he
had
touched
them
little
during
the
summer
.
What
had
become
of
that
great
work
,
Sempill
on
Isaiah
?
He
pulled
out
his
manuscript
notes
and
for
a
little
was
happy
in
their
contemplation
.
.
.
.
The
day
’
s
ride
had
been
long
and
the
sun
had
been
hot
.
His
head
nodded
,
then
dropped
on
his
arm
,
and
he
fell
asleep
.
He
awoke
to
a
sound
below
the
window
.
The
manse
stood
at
the
extreme
southern
end
of
the
kirkton
,
beyond
the
kirk
,
a
long
bowshot
from
the
nearest
dwelling
,
which
was
Robb
the
bellman
’
s
.
To
the
west
of
it
lay
the
broomy
slopes
of
the
Hill
of
Deer
,
to
the
east
the
glen
of
the
burn
and
Windyways
hill
,
and
to
the
south
the
rough
meadows
through
which
the
road
dipped
to
the
Wood
.
It
was
a
lonely
spot
,
as
Isobel
often
testified
,
and
after
nightfall
no
soul
came
near
it
;
even
a
traveller
on
the
highway
did
not
pass
within
half
a
mile
.
His
study
window
opened
on
the
garden
,
and
the
sound
seemed
to
come
from
some
one
knocking
gently
on
the
back
door
.
David
,
still
confused
with
sleep
,
took
his
candle
and
descended
the
stairs
.
Isobel
had
heard
nothing
-
-
for
the
muffled
sound
of
her
snores
came
from
the
press
-
bed
behind
the
kitchen
.
.
.
.
Again
the
soft
knocking
came
,
this
time
with
a
more
insistent
sound
.
In
some
trepidation
David
unbolted
the
door
,
telling
himself
that
it
might
be
a
summons
to
attend
a
dying
parishioner
.
