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"
He
’
s
an
affectionate
preacher
,
"
said
Chasehope
,
"
but
he
’
s
no
Boanerges
,
like
Proudfoot
o
’
Bold
.
"
The
other
agreed
,
and
though
the
tone
of
the
two
men
was
regretful
,
their
eyes
were
content
,
as
if
they
had
no
wish
for
a
Boanerges
in
Woodilee
.
On
the
22nd
day
of
April
the
minister
went
for
a
walk
on
the
Hill
of
Deer
.
He
had
heard
news
from
Isobel
which
had
awakened
his
numbed
memory
.
All
the
long
dark
winter
Woodilee
had
been
severed
from
the
world
,
and
David
had
also
lived
in
the
cage
and
had
had
no
thoughts
beyond
the
parish
.
Calidon
and
its
people
were
as
little
in
his
mind
as
if
they
had
been
on
another
planet
.
But
as
spring
loosened
the
bonds
word
of
the
neighbourhood
’
s
doings
was
coming
in
.
"
Johnnie
Dow
’
s
ben
the
house
,
"
Isobel
had
said
as
he
sat
at
meat
.
"
He
’
s
come
down
the
water
frae
Calidon
,
and
it
seems
there
’
s
unco
changes
there
.
The
laird
is
awa
’
to
the
wars
again
.
.
.
.
Na
,
Johnnie
didna
ken
what
airt
he
had
ridden
.
He
gaed
off
ae
mornin
’
wi
’
his
man
Tam
Purves
,
baith
o
’
them
on
muckle
horses
,
and
that
’
s
the
last
heard
o
’
them
.
It
seems
that
the
laird
’
s
gude
-
sister
,
Mistress
Saintserf
frae
Embro
,
cam
’
oot
a
fortnight
syne
to
tak
’
chairge
o
’
Calidon
and
the
young
lassie
-
-
there
’
s
a
lassie
bides
there
,
ye
maun
ken
,
sir
,
though
nane
o
’
the
Woodilee
folk
ever
cast
een
on
her
-
-
and
the
puir
body
was
like
to
be
smoored
[
smothered
]
in
the
Carnwath
Moss
.
Johnnie
says
she
’
s
an
auld
wumman
,
as
straucht
as
a
wand
and
wi
’
an
unco
ill
tongue
in
her
heid
.
She
fleyed
Johnnie
awa
’
frae
the
door
when
he
was
for
daffin
’
wi
’
the
serving
lasses
.
"
It
was
of
Calidon
that
David
thought
as
he
took
the
hill
.
Nicholas
Hawkshaw
,
lame
as
he
was
,
had
gone
back
to
the
wars
.
What
wars
?
Remembering
the
talk
of
that
autumn
night
he
feared
that
it
could
not
be
a
campaign
of
which
a
minister
of
the
Kirk
would
approve
.
Was
it
possible
that
he
had
gone
to
join
Montrose
in
his
evil
work
?
And
the
troopers
and
the
groom
?
Were
they
with
Leven
again
under
the
Covenant
’
s
banner
,
or
were
they
perilling
their
souls
with
the
malignants
?
The
latter
most
likely
,
and
to
his
surprise
he
felt
no
desire
to
reprobate
them
.
Spring
was
loosening
other
bonds
than
those
of
winter
.
It
was
a
bright
warm
day
,
which
might
have
been
borrowed
from
June
,
and
the
bursting
leaves
were
stirred
by
a
wandering
west
wind
.
David
sat
for
a
little
on
the
crest
of
the
hill
,
gazing
at
the
high
summits
,
which
,
in
the
April
light
,
were
clear
in
every
nook
and
yet
infinitely
distant
.
The
great
Herstane
Craig
had
old
snowdrifts
still
in
its
ravines
,
and
he
had
the
fancy
that
it
was
really
built
of
marble
which
shone
in
places
through
the
brown
husk
.
The
Green
Dod
did
not
now
belie
its
name
;
above
the
screes
and
heather
of
its
flanks
rose
a
cone
of
dazzling
greenness
.
The
upper
Aller
glen
was
filled
with
pure
sunshine
,
the
very
quintessence
of
light
,
and
the
sword
-
cut
of
the
Rood
was
for
once
free
from
gloom
.
There
was
no
gold
in
the
landscape
,
for
the
shallows
,
even
when
they
caught
the
sun
,
were
silver
,
the
bent
was
flushing
into
the
palest
green
,
the
skies
above
were
an
infinity
of
colourless
light
.
And
yet
the
riot
of
spring
was
there
.
David
felt
it
in
his
bones
and
in
his
heart
.
The
herd
of
Reiverslaw
was
busy
with
his
late
lambs
.
The
man
,
Prentice
by
name
,
was
a
sour
fellow
whom
an
accident
in
childhood
had
deprived
of
a
leg
.
In
spite
of
his
misfortune
he
could
move
about
on
a
single
crutch
at
a
good
pace
,
and
had
a
voice
and
a
tongue
which
the
parish
feared
.
He
was
a
noted
professor
,
with
an
uncanny
gift
of
prayer
,
and
his
by
-
names
in
Woodilee
were
"
Hirplin
’
Rab
"
and
the
"
One
Leggit
Prophet
.
"
But
to
-
day
even
Prentice
seemed
mellowed
by
the
spring
.
He
gave
David
a
friendly
good
-
day
.
"
The
voice
o
’
the
turtle
is
heard
on
the
yirth
,
"
he
announced
,
and
as
he
hobbled
over
a
patch
of
old
moorburn
,
sending
up
clouds
of
grey
dust
,
Prentice
too
became
a
figure
of
pastoral
.
David
had
rarely
felt
a
more
benignant
mood
.
The
grimness
of
winter
had
gone
clean
out
of
his
mind
,
and
he
had
entered
on
a
large
and
gracious
world
.
He
walked
slowly
like
an
epicure
,
drinking
in
the
quintessential
air
of
the
hills
,
marking
the
strong
blue
swirl
of
the
burns
,
the
fresh
green
of
the
mosses
,
the
buds
on
the
hawthorns
,
the
flash
of
the
water
-
ouzels
in
the
spray
of
the
little
falls
.
Curlews
and
peewits
filled
the
moor
with
their
crying
,
and
as
he
began
to
descend
into
the
Rood
glen
a
lark
-
-
the
first
he
had
heard
-
-
rose
to
heaven
with
a
flood
of
song
.
