the tree, with the trunk between him and the
house. So there spread before him the running river, the dale and
moor, and at last the piled hills. Here he sat, leaning hands upon a
great stick shaped like a crook, his Bible open upon his knees. It was
a great book, large of print, read over in every part, but opening
most easily among the prophets. No cry, no denunciation, no longing,
no judgment from Isaiah to Malachi, but was known to the elder of the
kirk. Now he sat here, in his Sunday dress, with the Bible. At a
little distance, on the round bench, sat Robin Greenlaw. The old man
read sternly, concentratedly on; the young one looked at the purple
mountain-heads. Elspeth came around the tree.

"Grandfather, dinner is ready.--Robin! we didn't know that you were
here--"

"I went the way around to speak with the laird. Then I thought, 'I
will eat at White Farm--'"

"You're welcome!--Grandfather, let me take the Book."

"No," said the old man, and bore it himself withindoors. Spare and
unbent of frame, threescore and ten and five, and able yet at the
plow-stilts, rigid of will, servant to the darker Calvinism, starving
where he might human pride and human affections, and yet with much of
both to starve, he moved and spoke with slow authority, looked a
patriarch and ruled his holding. When presently he came to table in
the clean, sanded room with the sunlight on the wall and floor, and
when, standing, he said the long, the earnest grace, it might have
been taken that here, in the Scotch farm-house, was at least a minor
prophet. The grace was long, a true wrestling in prayer. Ended, a
decent pause was made, then all took place, Jarvis Barrow and his
daughter and granddaughter, Robin Greenlaw, Thomas and Willy, Menie
and Merran. The cold meat, the bread, and other food were passed from
hand to hand, the ale poured. The Sunday hush, the Sunday voices,
continued to hold. Jarvis Barrow would have no laughter and idle
clashes at his table on the Lord's day. Menie and Merran and Willy
kept a stolid air, with only now and then a sidelong half-smile or
nudging request for this or that. Elspeth ate little, sat with her
brown eyes fixed out of the window. Robin Greenlaw ate heartily
enough, but he had an air distrait, and once or twice he frowned. But
Jenny Barrow could not long keep still and incurious, even upon the
Sabbath day.

"Eh, Robin, what was your crack with the laird?"

"He wants to buy Warlock for James Jardine.