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This
time
the
rumours
were
still
darker
.
That
very
morning
Mr
.
Muirhead
had
had
a
post
which
spoke
of
Montrose
ravaging
the
lands
of
that
light
of
the
Gospel
,
Argyll
-
-
of
his
fleeing
north
,
and
,
at
the
moment
when
his
doom
seemed
assured
,
turning
on
the
shore
of
a
Highland
sea
-
loch
and
scattering
the
Covenant
army
.
It
was
the
hour
of
peril
,
and
the
nation
must
humble
itself
before
the
Lord
.
A
national
fast
had
been
decreed
by
Parliament
,
and
it
was
resolved
to
set
apart
a
day
in
each
parish
when
some
stout
defender
of
the
faith
should
call
the
people
to
examination
and
repentance
.
Mr
.
Proudfoot
of
Bold
was
one
of
the
chosen
vessels
,
and
it
was
agreed
that
he
should
take
the
sermon
on
the
fast
-
day
in
Woodilee
in
the
first
week
of
March
.
But
David
was
now
in
a
different
mood
from
that
of
November
.
He
repressed
with
horror
an
unregenerate
admiration
for
this
Montrose
,
who
,
it
seemed
,
was
still
young
,
and
with
a
handful
of
caterans
had
laid
an
iron
hand
on
the
north
.
He
might
be
a
fine
soldier
,
but
he
was
beyond
doubt
a
son
of
Belial
.
The
trouble
with
David
was
the
state
of
his
own
parish
,
compared
with
which
the
sorrows
of
Argyll
seemed
dim
and
far
away
.
January
,
after
the
snows
melted
,
had
been
mild
and
open
,
with
the
burns
running
full
and
red
,
and
the
hills
one
vast
plashing
bog
.
With
Candlemas
came
a
black
frost
,
which
lasted
the
whole
of
February
and
the
first
half
of
March
.
The
worst
of
the
winter
stringency
was
now
approaching
.
The
cattle
in
the
yards
and
the
sheep
in
the
paddocks
had
become
woefully
lean
,
the
meal
in
the
girnels
was
running
low
,
and
everybody
in
the
parish
,
except
one
or
two
of
the
farmers
,
had
grown
thin
and
pale
-
faced
.
Sickness
was
rife
,
and
in
one
week
the
kirkyard
saw
six
burials
.
.
.
.
It
was
the
season
of
births
,
too
,
as
well
as
of
deaths
,
and
the
howdie
[
midwife
]
was
never
off
the
road
.
Strange
stories
came
to
his
ears
.
One
-
half
of
the
births
were
out
of
lawful
wedlock
.
.
.
and
most
of
the
children
were
still
-
born
.
A
young
man
is
slow
to
awake
to
such
a
condition
,
and
it
was
only
the
miserable
business
of
the
stool
of
repentance
which
opened
his
eyes
.
Haggard
girls
occupied
the
stool
and
did
penance
for
their
sin
,
but
in
only
one
case
did
the
male
paramour
appear
.
.
.
.
He
found
his
Session
in
a
strange
mood
,
for
instead
of
being
eager
to
enforce
the
law
of
the
Kirk
,
they
seemed
to
desire
to
hush
up
the
scandals
,
as
if
the
thing
was
an
epidemic
visitation
which
might
spoil
their
own
repute
.
He
interrogated
them
and
got
dull
replies
;
he
lost
his
temper
,
and
they
were
silent
.
Where
were
the
men
who
had
betrayed
these
wretched
girls
?
He
repeated
the
question
and
found
only
sullen
faces
.
One
Sabbath
he
abandoned
his
ordinary
routine
and
preached
on
the
abominations
of
the
heathen
with
a
passion
new
to
his
hearers
.
His
discourse
was
appreciated
,
and
he
was
congratulated
on
it
by
Ephraim
Caird
;
but
there
was
no
result
,
no
confession
,
such
as
he
had
hoped
for
,
from
stricken
sinners
,
no
cracking
of
the
wall
of
blank
obstinate
silence
.
.
.
.
The
thing
was
never
out
of
his
mind
by
day
or
night
.
What
was
betokened
by
so
many
infants
born
dead
?
He
felt
himself
surrounded
by
a
mystery
of
iniquity
.
One
night
he
spoke
of
it
to
Isobel
,
very
shamefacedly
,
for
it
seemed
an
awful
topic
for
a
woman
,
however
old
.
But
Isobel
was
no
more
communicative
than
the
rest
.
Even
her
honest
eyes
became
shy
and
secretive
.
"
Dinna
you
fash
yoursel
’
,
sir
,
"
she
said
.
"
The
Deil
’
s
thrang
in
this
parochine
,
and
ye
canna
expect
to
get
the
upper
hand
o
’
him
in
sax
months
.
But
ye
’
ll
be
even
wi
’
him
yet
,
Mr
.
Sempill
,
wi
’
your
graund
Gospel
preachin
’
.
"
And
then
she
added
that
on
which
he
pondered
many
times
in
the
night
watches
.
"
There
will
aye
be
trouble
at
this
time
o
’
year
so
long
as
the
folk
tak
’
the
Wud
at
Beltane
.
"
The
fast
-
day
came
,
and
Mr
.
Proudfoot
preached
a
marrowy
sermon
.
His
subject
was
the
everlasting
fires
of
Hell
,
which
awaited
those
who
set
their
hand
against
a
covenanted
Kirk
,
and
he
exhausted
himself
in
a
minute
description
of
the
misery
of
an
eternity
of
torment
.
"
They
shall
be
crowded
,
"
he
said
,
"
like
bricks
in
a
fiery
furnace
.
O
what
a
bed
is
there
!
No
feathers
,
but
fire
;
no
friends
,
but
furies
;
no
ease
,
but
fetters
;
no
daylight
,
but
darkness
;
no
clock
to
pass
away
the
time
,
but
endless
eternity
;
fire
eternal
that
ever
burns
and
never
dies
.
"
He
excelled
in
his
conclusion
.
"
Oh
,
my
friends
,
"
he
cried
,
"
I
have
given
you
but
a
short
touch
of
the
torments
of
Hell
.
Think
of
a
barn
or
some
other
great
place
filled
up
topfull
with
grains
of
corn
;
and
think
of
a
bird
coming
every
thousand
years
and
fetching
away
one
of
those
grains
of
corn
.
In
time
there
might
be
an
end
of
all
and
the
barn
might
be
emptied
,
but
the
torments
of
Hell
have
no
end
.
Ten
thousand
times
ten
millions
of
years
doth
not
at
all
shorten
the
miseries
of
the
damned
.
"
There
was
a
hush
like
death
in
the
crowded
kirk
.
A
woman
screamed
in
hysterics
and
was
carried
out
,
and
many
sobbed
.
At
the
close
the
elders
thronged
around
Mr
.
Proudfoot
and
thanked
him
for
a
discourse
so
seasonable
and
inspired
.
But
David
spoke
no
word
,
for
his
heart
had
sickened
.
What
meant
these
thunders
against
public
sin
when
those
who
rejoiced
in
them
were
ready
to
condone
a
flagrant
private
iniquity
?
For
a
moment
he
felt
that
Montrose
the
apostate
,
doing
evil
with
clean
steel
and
shot
,
was
less
repugnant
to
God
than
his
own
Kirk
Session
.
