He took much forethought for the boy's future,seeing he was like to be left so poorly,and would sometimes assist at his lessons,sighing heavily,yawning deep,and now and again patting Francie on the shoulder if he seemed to be doing ill,by way of a private,kind encouragement.But a great part of the day was passed in aimless wanderings with his eyes sealed,or in his cabinet sitting bemused over the particulars of the coming bankruptcy;and the boy would be absent a dozen times for once that his father would observe it.
On 2nd of July 1682the boy had an errand from his mother,which must be kept private from all,the father included in the first of them.Crossing the braes,he hears the clatter of a horse's shoes,and claps down incontinent in a hag by the wayside.And presently he spied his father come riding from one direction,and Curate Haddo walking from another;and Montroymont leaning down from the saddle,and Haddo getting on his toes (for he was a little,ruddy,bald-pated man,more like a dwarf),they greeted kindly,and came to a halt within two fathoms of the child.
'Montroymont,'the curate said,'the deil's in 't but I'll have to denunciate your leddy again.'
'Deil's in 't indeed!'says the laird.
'Man!can ye no induce her to come to the kirk?'pursues Haddo;'or to a communion at the least of it?For the conventicles,let be!and the same for yon solemn fule,M'Brair:I can blink at them.But she's got to come to the kirk,Montroymont.'
'Dinna speak of it,'says the laird.'I can do nothing with her.'
'Couldn't ye try the stick to her?it works wonders whiles,'
suggested Haddo.'No?I'm wae to hear it.And I suppose ye ken where you're going?'
'Fine!'said Montroymont.'Fine do I ken where:bankrup'cy and the Bass Rock!'
'Praise to my bones that I never married!'cried the curate.
'Well,it's a grievous thing to me to see an auld house dung down that was here before Flodden Field.But naebody can say it was with my wish.'
'No more they can,Haddo!'says the laird.'A good friend ye've been to me,first and last.I can give you that character with a clear conscience.'
Whereupon they separated,and Montroymont rode briskly down into the Dule Valley.But of the curate Francis was not to be quit so easily.He went on with his little,brisk steps to the corner of a dyke,and stopped and whistled and waved upon a lassie that was herding cattle there.This Janet M'Clour was a big lass,being taller than the curate;and what made her look the more so,she was kilted very high.It seemed for a while she would not come,and Francie heard her calling Haddo a 'daft auld fule,'and saw her running and dodging him among the whins and hags till he was fairly blown.But at the last he gets a bottle from his plaid-neuk and holds it up to her;whereupon she came at once into a composition,and the pair sat,drinking of the bottle,and daffing and laughing together,on a mound of heather.The boy had scarce heard of these vanities,or he might have been minded of a nymph and satyr,if anybody could have taken long-leggit Janet for a nymph.But they seemed to be huge friends,he thought;and was the more surprised,when the curate had taken his leave,to see the lassie fling stones after him with screeches of laughter,and Haddo turn about and caper,and shake his staff at her,and laugh louder than herself.A wonderful merry pair,they seemed;and when Francie had crawled out of the hag,he had a great deal to consider in his mind.It was possible they were all fallen in error about Mr.Haddo,he reflected -having seen him so tender with Montroymont,and so kind and playful with the lass Janet;and he had a temptation to go out of his road and question her herself upon the matter.But he had a strong spirit of duty on him;and plodded on instead over the braes till he came near the House of Cairngorm.There,in a hollow place by the burnside that was shaded by some birks,he was aware of a barefoot boy,perhaps a matter of three years older than himself.The two approached with the precautions of a pair of strange dogs,looking at each other queerly.
'It's ill weather on the hills,'said the stranger,giving the watchword.
'For a season,'said Francie,'but the Lord will appear.'
'Richt,'said the barefoot boy;'wha're ye frae?'
'The Leddy Montroymont,'says Francie.
'Ha'e,then!'says the stranger,and handed him a folded paper,and they stood and looked at each other again.'It's unco het,'said the boy.
'Dooms het,'says Francie.
'What do they ca'ye?'says the other.
'Francie,'says he.'I'm young Montroymont.They ca'me Heathercat.'
'I'm Jock Crozer,'said the boy.And there was another pause,while each rolled a stone under his foot.
'Cast your jaiket and I'll fecht ye for a bawbee,'cried the elder boy with sudden violence,and dramatically throwing back his jacket.
'Na,I've nae time the now,'said Francie,with a sharp thrill of alarm,because Crozer was much the heavier boy.
'Ye're feared.Heathercat indeed!'said Crozer,for among this infantile army of spies and messengers,the fame of Crozer had gone forth and was resented by his rivals.And with that they separated.
On his way home Francie was a good deal occupied with the recollection of this untoward incident.The challenge had been fairly offered and basely refused:the tale would be carried all over the country,and the lustre of the name of Heathercat be dimmed.But the scene between Curate Haddo and Janet M'Clour had also given him much to think of:and he was still puzzling over the case of the curate,and why such ill words were said of him,and why,if he were so merry-spirited,he should yet preach so dry,when coming over a knowe,whom should he see but Janet,sitting with her back to him,minding her cattle!He was always a great child for secret,stealthy ways,having been employed by his mother on errands when the same was necessary;and he came behind the lass without her hearing.
'Jennet,'says he.
'Keep me,'cries Janet,springing up.'O,it's you,Maister Francie!Save us,what a fricht ye gied me.'
