CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.
SUFFERING AND ITS RESULTS.
When the news that young Duncan had been shot was brought to Ben Nevis,the effect on his father was much more severe than might have beenexpected, considering their respective feelings towards each other.
It was late in the evening when the news came, and the old man wasseated in what he styled his smoking-room, taking his evening glass ofwhisky and water.
"Elspie," he said, in a subdued voice, on being told, "help me up to mybed."
This was so very unusual a request that Elspie was somewhat alarmed byit, as well as surprised--all the more so that the old man left the roomwithout finishing either his pipe or glass. Still, she did not supposethat anything serious would come of it. A night's rest, she thought,would do away with the evils of the shock.
"Dear father," she said, as she kissed him at parting, "do believe thatGod is waiting to be gracious: that He really means it when He says,`Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will giveyou rest.' And, consider--we have no reason to suppose that dearDuncan's wound is very dangerous."
"Goot-night, Elspie," was all the reply.
Next morning McKay did not make his appearance at the usualbreakfast-hour, and, on going to his room, they found him lyingspeechless in his bed, suffering under a stroke of paralysis.
He soon recovered the power of speech, but not the use of his limbs, andit became evident ere long that the poor man had received a shock whichwould probably cripple him for life. Whatever may have been his secretthoughts, however, he carefully concealed them from every one, andalways referred to his complaint as, "this nasty stiff feeling about thelegs which iss a long time of goin' away--whatever."
In a few days, Fergus returned from the plains, bringing his brother ina cart, which had been made tolerably easy by means of a springy couchof pine-branches. They did not tell him at first of his father'sillness, lest it should interfere with his own recovery from the verycritical condition in which he lay. At first he took no notice of hisfather's non-appearance, attributing it to indifference; but when hebegan slowly to mend, he expressed some surprise. Then they told him.
Whatever may have been his thoughts on the subject, he gave no sign, butreceived the information--as, indeed, he received nearly all informationat that time--in absolute silence.
Fortunately, the bullet which struck him had passed right through hisside, so that he was spared the pain, as well as the danger, of itsextraction. But, from his total loss of appetite and continuedweakness, it was evident that he had received some very severe, if notfatal, internal injury. At last, very slowly, he began to grow a littlestronger, but he was a very shadow or wreck of his former self.Nevertheless, the more sanguine members of the family began to entertainsome faint hope of his recovery.
Of course, during these first days of his weakness his sister Elspienursed him. She would, if permitted, have done so night and day, but inthis matter she had to contend with one who was more than a match forher. This was Old Peg, the faithful domestic.
"No, no, dearie," said that resolute old woman, when Elspie firstpromulgated to her the idea of sitting up all night with Duncan, "youwill do nothin' of the sort. Your sainted mother left your father an'Fergus an' yourself to my care, an' I said I would never fail you, so Ican't break my promise by letting you break your health. I will sit upwi' him, as I've done many a time when he was a bairn."
It thus came to pass that Elspie nursed her brother by day, and Old Pegsat up with him at night. Of course the duties of the former wereconsiderably lightened by the assistance rendered by various members ofthe family, as well as friends, who were ever ready to sit by thebedside of the wounded man and read to or chat with him. At such timeshe was moderately cheerful, but when the night watches came, and Old Pegtook her place beside him, and memory had time to commence with himundisturbed, the deed of which he had had been guilty was forced uponhim; Conscience was awakened, and self-condemnation was the result.Yet, so inconsistent is poor humanity that self-exculpation warred withself-condemnation in the same brain! The miserable man would have givenall he possessed to have been able to persuade himself that his act waspurely one of self-defence--as no doubt to some extent it was, for if hehad not fired first Perrin's action showed that he would certainly havebeen the man-slayer. But, then, young McKay could not shut his eyes tothe fact that premeditation had, in the first instance, induced him toextend his hand towards his gun, and this first act it was which hadcaused all the rest.
Often during the wakeful hours of the night would the invalid glance athis nurse with a longing desire to unburden his soul to her, butwhenever his eye rested on her calm, wrinkled old visage, and he thoughtof her deafness, and the difficulty of making her understand, heabandoned his half-formed intention with a sigh. He did not, indeed,doubt her sympathy, for many a time during his life, especially when achild, had he experienced the strength and tenderness of that.
After attending to his wants, it was the habit of Old Peg to put on apair of tortoise-shell spectacles and read. Her only book was theBible. She read nothing else--to say truth, at that time there waslittle else to read in Red River. The first night of her watch she hadasked the invalid if he would like her to read a few verses to him.
"You may if you like, Peg," he had replied. "You know it iss little Icare for releegion, for I don't believe in it, but you may read if youlike--it may amuse me, an' will help to make the time pass--whatever."
Thus the custom was established. It was plain that the old womancounted much on the influence of the simple Word of God, withoutcomment, for every time she opened the Bible she shut her eyes and herlips moved in silent prayer before she began to read.
The invalid was greatly tickled with this little preliminary prayer, andwould have laughed aloud if he had not been too weak to do so. As timewent on, however, he became interested in the Gospel narratives in spiteof himself, and he began to experience some sort of relish for theevening reading--chiefly because, as he carefully explained to Elspie,"the droning o' the old wumman's voice" sent him to sleep.
Meanwhile the other invalid--Duncan senior--progressed as slowly as didhis son. The nursing of him was undertaken chiefly by Jessie Davidson--the sympathetic Jessie--who was established as an inmate of Ben Nevis_pro tem_, for that very purpose. She was ably seconded--during part ofeach day--by Billie Sinclair, between whom and the old Highlander theregrew up at that time a strong friendship. For many weeks poor old McKaywas confined to his bed, and then, when allowed to rise, he could onlywalk across his room with the aid of the strong arm of his stalwart sonFergus. To sit at his open window and look out at his garden was hisprincipal amusement, and smoking a long clay pipe his chief solace.Like Duncan junior, old Duncan was quite willing to hear the Bible readto him now and then, by Jessie Davidson and more especially by LittleBill; but the idea of deriving any real comfort from that book never fora moment entered his head.
One day Elspie came to him and said:
"Daddy, Dan wants to see you to-day, if you feel well enough."
"Surely, my tear. It iss not the first time he will be seein' me sinceI got the stroke."
"He has brought you a present--something that he has made--which hehopes will be useful to you."
"What is it, Elspie?"
"You shall see. May I tell him to come in and bring it with him?"
"Surely, my tear. Let him come in. It iss always goot for sore eyes tosee himself--whatever."
Elspie went out. A few minutes later there was heard in the passage astrange rumbling sound.
"What in all the world iss that?" said the old man to Little Bill, whohappened to be his companion at the time.
"It sounds like wheels, I think," said Billie.
The door opened as he spoke, and Dan Davidson entered, pushing beforehim an invalid chair of a kind that is familiar enough in the civilisedworld, but which was utterly unknown at that time in those regions.
"Goot-
mornin', Tan; what hev you got there? Iss it a surprise you willbe givin' me?"
"It is a chair, sir, which will, I hope, add a good deal to yourcomfort," said Dan. "I made it myself, from the memory-model of onewhich I once saw in the old country. See, I will show you how it acts.Push me along, Jessie."
Dan sat down in the chair as he spoke, and his sister Jessie, whoentered at the moment, pushed him all about the room with the greatestease.
"Well, well!" said the amused invalid. "Ye are a clever man, Taniel.It iss a goot contrivance, an' seems to me fery well made. Could LittleBill push it, think ye? Go an' try, boy."
Little Bill found that he could push Dan in the chair as easily asJessie had done it.
"But that is not all," said Dan. "See--now I will work the chairmyself."
So saying he laid his hands on the two large wheels at either side--which, with a little wheel behind, supported the machine--and moved itabout the room, turned it round, and, in short, acted in a veryindependent manner as to self-locomotion.
"Well, now, that _iss_ goot," exclaimed the pleased invalid. "Let metry it, Tan."
In his eagerness the poor man, forgetting for a moment his helplesscondition, made an effort to rise, and would certainly have fallen offthe chair on which he was seated if Elspie had not sprung to hisassistance.
"Come, there's life in you yet!" said Dan as he assisted the old maninto the wheel-chair. "Put your hands--so. And when you want to turnsharp round you've only to pull with one hand and push with--"
"Get along with you," interrupted the old man, facetiously giving thechair a swing that caused all who stood around him to leap out of hisway: "will you hev the presumption to teach a man that knew how to sculla boat before you wass born? But, Taniel," he added, in a more serioustone, "we must hev one like this made for poor Tuncan."
As this was the first reference which McKay had made to his younger sonsince his illness--with the exception of the daily inquiry as to hishealth--it was hailed as an evidence that a change for the better wastaking place in the old man's mind. For up to that period no one hadreceived any encouragement to speak of, or enter into conversationabout, Duncan junior.
"You are right," returned Dan. "I have been thinking of that, and haveeven laid in the wood to make a similar chair for him. But I fear hewon't be able to use it for some time to come. Elspie was thinking, ifyou don't object, to have your bedroom changed to one of the rooms onthe ground floor, so that you could be wheeled into the garden when soinclined."
"Yes, daddy," said Elspie, taking up the discourse; "we can put you intothe room that corresponds with Duncan's room at the other end of thehouse, so that you and he will be able to meet after your long illness.But there is another contrivance which Dan has been making for us--notfor you, but for Old Peg. Tell daddy about it, Dan."
"Like the chair," said Dan, "it is no novelty, except in thisout-o'-the-way place. You see, I have noticed that Old Peg is ratherdeaf--"
"Well, Tan," interrupted old McKay with a benignant smile, "it iss notmuch observation that you will be requirin' to see that!"
"Just so. Well, I also observed that it gives Duncan some trouble tospeak loud enough to her. So I have invented a sort of ear-trumpet--atin pipe with an ear-piece at one end and a mouth-piece at the other,which I hope may make things easier."
"Hev ye not tried it yet?" asked McKay.
"Not yet. I've only just brought it."
"Go down, lad, an' try it at wanse, an' let me know what the upshotiss."
Down they all went accordingly, leaving Duncan senior alone.
They found Old Peg in the act of administering beef-tea refreshment--orsomething of that sort--to the invalid. Peter Davidson and ArchieSinclair were there also, paying him a visit.
"Hallo, Little Bill!" said Archie as his brother entered. "You here! Iguessed as much. Your passion for nursing since you attended Dan isoutrageous. You do more nursing in this house, I do believe, thanElspie and Jessie and Old Peg put together. What d'ee mean by it, Bill?I get no good of you at all now!"
"I like it, Archie, and I'm training myself to nurse you when you getill or old!"
"Thank 'ee for nothin', Little Bill, for I don't mean to become eitherill or old for some time to come; but, I say, are they goin' to performan operation on Old Peg's head?"
This was said in consequence of Elspie shouting to the old woman to lether put something into her ear to cure deafness.
"Cure deafness!" she exclaimed, with a faint laugh, "nothin' will evercure _my_ deafness. But I can trust _you_, dearie, so do what youplease."
"Shut your eyes, then."
"And open your mouth!" said Archie to Little Bill in a low voice.
Old Peg did as she was bid. Dan, approaching behind her, put the smallend of the tube into her right ear--which was the best one--and Elspie,putting her mouth to the other end, spoke to her in her soft, naturalvoice.
The effect was amusing. Old Peg dropped into her chair as if paralysed,and gazed from one to another in mute amazement.
"Eh! dearie. Did I ever think to hear the sweet low voice o' Elspielike as it was when she was a bairn! Most amazin'!" she said. "Let mehear't again."
The operation was repeated, and it was finally found that, by means ofthis extemporised ear-trumpet, the poor creature once more became aconversable member of society. She went about the house the remainderof that day in a quite excited state, asking questions of everybody, andputting the end of the instrument to their mouths for an answer. Archieeven declared that he had caught her alone in the back-kitchen shovingthe cat's head into the mouth-piece of the instrument, and pinching itstail to make it mew.
It was two days after the occurrence of these incidents that the oldwoman was seated by Duncan's bedside, gazing through her tortoise-shellglasses at the well-thumbed Bible, when her patient, who had been veryrestless, looked up and spoke.
"Can I do anything for ye, dearie?" said Old Peg, putting thetrumpet-end into her ear, and handing the mouth-piece to Duncan.
"You--you hear much better now, Old Peg?" said the sick man, in hisnatural voice.
"Ay, much, much better; thanks to the Lord--and to Mr Daniel."
"If Daniel had not thought of it," said the invalid, quite gravely, "doyou think that the Lord would hev sent the machine to you?"
"He might or He might not," returned the old woman, promptly. "It's notfor me to say, nor yet to guess on that point. But this I do know forcertain--if the Lord hadna' thought upon Mr Daniel, then Mr Danielwouldna' have been here to think upon _me_."
Duncan made no reply, and for some time remained quite silent. Then hespoke again.
"Peg, what wass it that you would be reading to me last night--somethingabout a malefactor, I'm thinking."
"Ay, it was about the robbers that was crucified on each side o' theLord. One o' them reviled the Lord as he was hangin' there, the otherfound forgiveness, for he was led to see what a lost sinner he was, andrepented and confessed his sins."
"That is fery strange," said Duncan, after a few moments' thought. "Doyou think, Peg, that the robber that was forgiven wass a--a murderer?"
"I have little doubt o't," answered Peg, "for I've heard say that theythink very little o' human life in them Eastern countries. But whateverhe was, the blood of Jesus Christ was able to cleanse him."
"Ay, but if he was a murderer, Peg, he did not _deserve_ to beforgiven."
"My bairn," said the old woman, with something of motherly tenderness inher tone, "it's not them that _deserve_ to be forgiven that _are_forgiven, but them that see that they _don't_ deserve it. Didna' thisrobber say that he was sufferin' for his sins justly? That, surely,meant that he deserved what he was getting, an' how is it possible todeserve both condemnation an' forgiveness at the same time? But hebelieved that Jesus was a king--able and willing to save him though hedid _not_ deserve it, so he asked to be remembered, and he _was_remembered. But lie down now, bairn, an' rest: Ye are excitin'yoursel', an' that's bad
for ye."
A week or so after the conversation above recorded, Dan brought awheel-chair for Duncan, similar to the one he had made for his father.As Duncan had been getting out of bed for several days before, Dan foundhim dressed and sitting up. He therefore lifted him into the chair atonce, and wheeled him out into the garden, where a blaze of warmsunshine seemed to put new life into the poor invalid.
It had been pre-arranged that old McKay should be brought down that sameday to his new room, and that he should also be wheeled into the garden,so as to meet his son Duncan, without either of them being prepared forthe meeting.
"I don't feel at all sure that we are right in this arrangement," Elspiehad said; but Dan and Fergus, and Mrs Davidson and Jessie had thoughtotherwise, so she was overruled.
Archie was deputed to attend upon Duncan junior, and Little Billobtained leave to push the chair of old McKay. The younger man waswheeled under the shade of a tree with his back to the house, and leftthere. Then the family retired out of the way, leaving Archie to attendthe invalid.
A few minutes after young Duncan had been placed, Little Bill pushed hischarge under the same tree, and, wheeling the chair quickly round,brought father and son suddenly face to face.
The surprise was great on both sides, for each, recollecting only theman that _had been_, could hardly believe in the reality of the ghostthat sat before him.
"Father!" exclaimed Duncan at last.
But the old man answered not. Some strong feeling was evidently surgingwithin him, for his mouth was tightly pursed and his features workedstrangely. Suddenly he burst into tears, but the weakness wasmomentary. With an effort that seemed to concentrate the accumulatedenergy of all the McKays from Adam downwards, he again pursed his mouthand looked at his younger son with a stern persistent frown, worthy ofthe most rugged of Highlanders in his fiercest mood.
Duncan was inexpressibly touched.
"Father," said he again, "I've been a baad, baad son to _you_."
"Tuncan," retorted the old man, in a husky but firm voice, "I've been abaad, baad father to you."
"Let us shake hands--whatever," said the son.
The two silently grasped each other's hands with all the little strengththat remained to them. Then old McKay turned suddenly to his henchman.
"Little Bill," said he, in a tone that was not for an instant to bedisregarded, "shove me down to the futt of the garden--you _rascal_!"
With a promptitude little short of miraculous the Highlander was wheeledaway, and thus the momentous meeting was abruptly brought to a close.