CHAPTER XIII

THE MEETING ON THE BEACH.

"My God, I thank thee, who hast made The earth so bright;

So full of splendour and of joy,
Beauty and light;

So many glorious things are here
Noble and right."

HE winter sunshine was sparkling on the dancing waves of the blue sea, as they rolled their white foam on the pebble beach near the village of Crail-or Carrail, as it was then called. The air was frosty and cold, but pleasant enough withal to one able to take brisk walking exercise. How pleasant, Maude Dunmore was thinking, it must be out-of-doors that fresh February morning, as she sat at work in her grandmother's house, which overlooked the beach, and watched the fishers' boats as they tossed-now up, now down-on the white-❘ crested billows. There was a young heart beating in Maude's bosom, young blood coursing through her veins, and but for the weight of eighteen summers resting on her head, she would have run out and danced with all her heart as blithely as the merry-looking waves, that seemed to think it fine sport to keep breaking and breaking amongst the strange-looking boulder-stones on the beach. But instead of so doing, Maude had to sit with her grandmother in the keeping-room bolt upright (young ladies did not loll or lie on couches in those olden days) busy at work. She dearly loved the old lady; but Maude was in a fidgety humour that day, something in the fine bracing air had inspired her; and, truth to tell, she was wishing she were at Dunmore Castle, and could go riding with her father. But these thoughts were kept to herself, and the Dowager-Lady Dunmore remained in happy unconsciousness of her fair granddaughter's rebellious thoughts. There had been a long silence, broken only by the plash, plash of the waves, when the old lady spoke at last.

"Maude, my child, William Miretown has come home. He arrived last night. The king has kept him long. Had you heard the news?"

"Yes, grandmamma; old Peggie told me he was expected." And she bent her head over her work as she spoke.

"He'll be here to-day, most likely," continued the dowager. "It is long since you met, Maude. You know it is, or at least was, settled he was to be your husband."

"I know, grandmother," she answered quietly. "My father has told me that since ever I can remember." The old lady paused, put down her work, and folding her hands for a moment, said solemnly,—

"I said was settled. For if what I have heard were true (which I hope it is not), my son would never give his daughter to William Miretown. They do say strange things nowadays, and busy tongues have been heard to say that the young laird of Miretown worships neither the saints nor the holy Virgin"—and the lady crossed herself as she spoke; "and more than that"—and she lowered her voice almost to a whisper-" they say that foreign doctor (ah, me! I always misdoubted him) has got him, poor deluded lad, to read the Holy Book, which is fit for none save the priests. It surely cannot be think ye, Maude?"

The girl's cheeks were crimson now. "What cannot be, grandmother?" she said. "If William Miretown worships and loves the Lord Jesus, he can dispense with the saints; and as to reading the Holy Scriptures, I wonder why they were written at all, if they were not meant to be read?"

"Maude Dunmore, where have you learned such opinions as these?" said her grandmother with dignity. "Certainly it behoves not a young maiden to speak as if she knew better what was right than her elders--ay, or even Holy Mother Church."

In a moment Maude was at her grandmother's side. "Forgive me," she said. "I meant not to intrude my opinions; but oh, grandmother, if William Miretown, or any other, love the Lord Jesus, it matters little what else they do; and as to where and when I learned to think so, I believe my first lessons on the subject were learned at my dead mother's knee. She loved our Lord, and child though I was, taught me to pray to him aloneSir Thomas Godwin knows so; and you know how dear and good and holy my mother was, and I can think it no sin to believe as she did. So forgive me, grandmother; and let me put away my work and go out for a stroll."

Very seldom did Lady Dunmore retain anger towards her grandchild for many minutes; so she only stroked the brown sunny locks, and printing a kiss on her forehead, bid her tell Peggie to make ready to accompany her for a walk, if she so desired.

But Maude was in no humour for Peggie as a companion, she was longing to be alone with her own thoughts in the "blithe and open air;" and having succeeded in gaining her own point, she was quickly

equipped, and, with a favourite dog as her only conpanion, was soon outside the walls of the gloomy mansion. Oh, it was good, Maude felt, to be out-of-doors that day. All Nature seemed so glad. Surely 'twas in glee that the waves were leaping, closely following one another, as if in eager haste to be first to reach the beach, where they broke in noisy mirth, and swept their waters round into out-of-way crannies among the brown seaweed-covered rocks, forming clear little pools, where the strange flower-like creatures (whose name and nature were unknown in the days of which we write) loved to dwell. 'Twas more in sport than business that the curious little fishing-boats tossed up and down on the waves that day, seeming to enjoy the fun. The merry laugh of the barefooted village children, as they❘ rushed from school down to the beach to gather the glossy sea-weed and wealth of children's treasure that the waves were scattering on the sand; the loud whistle of the fishers' boys, as they pushed off in some tiny boat to their day's work,-all combined to give life to the scene. The very sea-birds, as they skimmed the waves, seemed glad; and Maude felt as if a hopeful spirit pervaded even inanimate Nature, or, as a poet has since expressed it,—

"Winter, slumbering in the open air,

Wore on his smiling face a dream of spring."

It was very pleasant to the young girl to stroll about on that rocky beach, her heart full of holy thoughts. As she gazed on the expanse of sea before her, the thoughts of the Psalmist, as rendered by Wicliffe, rose to her lips-thoughts which were expressed in the following words: "Thou coverest it with the deep as with a garment: the waters stood above the mountains. At thy rebuke they fled; at the voice of thy thunder they hasten away. They go up by the mountains; they go down by the valleys into the place which thou hast founded for them. Thou hast set a bound that they might not pass over; that they turn not again to cover the earth."

She had come opposite the regal palace, which stood on a cliff overlooking the firth. She had stooped to pick up a piece of pretty floating sea-weed which the waves had thrown, as if in homage, at her feet, when on raising her eyes, she saw the figure of a young man close beside her, engaged in earnest conversation with a lad, whose words she could not prevent herself from hearing. He spoke respectfully, as if addressing a superior.

"My lord," he said, "if, as 'tis said, you have any influence with the foreign doctor in St. Andrews, let him take heed, for his enemies are on the watch to entrap him. It has reached the ears of the bishop that he never attends Mass, and that he has meetings with the students in his own house to"-and the lad lowered his voice as he spoke-" read the Holy Book; and they wait but for proof to arrest and imprison him, and then the good God in heaven only knows what may befall him. Mind you, sir, what they did to the holy man, James Resby, of whom my mother has so often told me? Oh,

bid him beware, for there's many and many a one would grieve sorely if ill came to him who has tended so many on their sick-beds, and comforted them with words out of the Holy Evangel, such as no priest or friar on earth ever spoke !"

There the conversation came to an abrupt stop, for Maude had raised her head, and found herself face to face with William Miretown. We write no love tale, so we will not undertake to depict the meeting between the betrothed couple, nor relate the words they spoke-not very different ones, we daresay, from those spoken in like circumstances in more modern times. But one thing concerns us to know, that ere Maude Dunmore reentered her grandmother's stately mansion, she and William Miretown knew they shared one faith, had one hope, and loved and served one Master. Slowly they retraced their steps homewards, parting at the entrance to the dowager's house; for the young man was not attired as he would have wished to have been, when he presented himself to the old lady as a suitor for the hand of her grand-daughter, the fair Mistress Maude.

So now they parted-Maude to relate to her grandmother the unexpected meeting on the beach; he to walk back to Miretown and give orders to have his fleetest charger saddled in haste, that he might ride to St. Andrews and give his loved friend and counsellor, Paul Crawer, a warning that danger was impending.

How was it that as he rode, the words, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give you a crown of life," rose so often to his lips? Surely death was yet afar off from him to whom so many looked for help and guidance; who for love to poor benighted souls had left home and country, that by the beds of the sick and sorrowing he might do as his Master had done-unite the healing of the body with the preaching of the gospel. Good cause had William Miretown to give thanks that the Lord had put it into his servant's heart to make such a sacrifice, for through his words the darkness which filled his soul had been dissipated, and the light of the glorious gospel of Christ Jesus had shone on his heart. Old things had passed away, and all things had become new.

moment to speak to little Lysken Van Weld, as she was tripping homeward, closely wrapped up in a warm cloak. Lysken and he had become fast friends, and he was longing to make Maude and she acquainted.

"Are you going to Doctor Crawer's?" she said; "Ursula and I have just been there with a message from aunt, asking him to see a poor sick boy who lives near the Castle, and we found he was out. And oh, Master Miretown, I want to tell you something; only," said the child, “I must tell it you quite low, and I am so afraid of your charger."

The young laird laughed. "Afraid of my charger, Lysken! fie for a little coward! I must get you to ride pillion on him some day. But now I must hear this wonderful secret.-Wanless," he said, addressing his attendant, "take Sanspeur;" and vaulting from the saddle, he threw the reins to him and stood by the child. She led him quite out of hearing even of old Ursula, then said with the eagerness of a child,

"Oh, do you know where the doctor has gone?-to the monastery of the Dominicans!"

"Wherefore has he gone thither?"

"They say," said the child, "one of the friars took a fit on the street, and Doctor Crawer was passing, and he went to help him, and he remained a long while; and you know, Master Miretown, those friars hate him, and-and-who knows what harm may befall him there?"

For a moment the young man stood irresolute, whilst the child scanned his face earnestly. At last he spoke. "It looks bad, Lysken," he said; "it may have been a plot laid for him. Still, we know not; and remember all the friars are not like Black Tom. There are amongst them men of gentle hearts; and, for aught we know, there may be some with longings after holy things. What if the doctor is made the instrument of leading some of these deluded souls to Jesus? But you must not tarry longer. I'll go to the monastery and inquire for the doctor; I, too, have a word of warning for him. But, little Lysken, we must not forget there is One whose servant he is, who cares for him more than either you or I do, who counteth even the hairs of his head,-we must trust him in his hands, must we not?"

The child gravely bent her head, and bidding her friend farewell, went back to join Ursula and proceed homewards. She had scarce disappeared from sight, when Doctor Crawer approached, and was warmly greeted by young Miretown, who had not seen him for many months. The doctor looked grave yet calm, and, as usual, self-possessed. His friend drew him aside.

Would my Lord and Master have refused to go? He set his face steadfastly towards Jerusalem, knowing all that awaited him there. He turned not away from the death of the cross for our sakes, and shall we shrink from bearing our cross after him? Nay, my friend. Thanks for your warning. I do not unnecessarily court danger; but I dare not conceal the truth, nor, for fear of evil to myself, neglect an opportunity of bearing witness for my Master. The friar is dead; but the name of Jesus from my lips was the last he heard, and turning his eyes away from the crucifix held before him, he fixed them full of gratitude on me, and said distinctly, Jesus only.' We had met before. I was quoting the Holy Evangel to a dying man, pointing him to Jesus, when this friar entered. He listened quietly, I even

then fancied, gladly. I believe the word was with power.' I rejoice to think my presence cheered his death-bed, and—start not, my friend-by that bedside I spoke for Jesus to those assembled there. I pointed them from the Cross to him who died thereon. Some listened eagerly. Black Tom alone gnashed his teeth, and murmured threatening words. I may have been rash; but I dare not be silent. The Word of God has gone forth, and shall not return to him void; for aught else, my life is in his hands; and if he deems me worthy to suffer a martyr's death, by his grace I am ready to be offered."

As young Miretown gazed on the face of the doctor, radiant with heavenly peace and joy, words failed him. How dare he strive to make one taught of God, filled with the love of Jesus, draw back or turn cold in his cause. Then they slowly sauntered towards the Castle, for Miretown had told the doctor a message had been left by little Lysken to ask him to call there. They spoke of many things,—of Maude and her simple faith; of David, still delicate, but growing in grace daily; of the change in Lady Louise; of the secret meetings; of the quiet yet sure way in which the light was beginning to dawn both in Scotland and England; and of the increased persecution the Church in Bohemia was suffering, of which Doctor Crawer had heard in the letters brought by the young Fleming from his father and sister Liese. As they reached the castle-gate, Bishop Wardlaw rode past them, having returned from a visit of inspection to the Gair Bridge, which was then being built chiefly on his recommendation. He saluted young Miretown, and made inquiries regarding the king, whom he knew the young man had seen lately; but when Doctor Crawer raised his cap, the bishop returned the greeting haughtily and rode on. Young Miretown's proud spirit chafed at the marked discourtesy shown to his friend, all the more that the bishop's manuers were gentle and courtly beyond many in those days. But the doctor, though at first the blood had risen to his forehead, was calm, and tried to quiet down his fiery companion, saying, "What of it, young master? Has it not been said by our Lord himself, These things will they do to you, because they have not known the Father

soon appear. After a while another train came, and the noise and confusion was repeated; and I was so stupid as to run into the middle of the crowd, where I got pushed and struck as before. I howled and barked, thinking my master would perhaps be there and hear me; but no one spoke to me except to say, 'Away! get off with you!' Oh, Pussy, it was dreadful!

"At length it began to grow dark, and I thought it might be as well to find my way home. But when I went to the door it was shut, and I returned to the platform with my tail hanging down, and looking just like what I was--a naughty dog, who knew he had done wrong. As I sat there trembling and shivering, and feeling very miserable, I heard a man say-'Look here, Henry! This dog has been here all day; he must have come with his master, and have lost him.' Henry turned to look at me, and said-'Somebody will be sure to come asking for him; we had better shut him up in the meantime.' So he came towards me, and called, in a kind voice, Come, poor fellow!' But I had no mind to be shut up; so when he stooped to seize me I gave a great howl and ran off. Just then another man opened the door; I got through, and rushed towards home as fast as my legs would carry me.

6

"It was raining heavily; but I did not mind that. I ran on through thick and thin, and never turned round till I came to our garden-gate. It was shut. I whined and barked, and tried to jump over the railings; but it was no use no one heard me. Wet and hungry as I was, I would have had to stay all night on the street if the policeman had not come past and recognized me. Why, Puck,' he said, 'how do you come to be on the street in such weather?'—and he opened the door for me. I ran through the garden, and scratched and

whined at the back-door till the cook came and let me in. The first thing I heard was my master's voice in the parlour; and forgetting my dirty feet, I rushed into the room. But they all cried out when they saw me, To the kitchen, you dirty dog! to the kitchen!'-and the bell was rung for Ann. I ran out as fast as I had run in, and slunk into the kitchen.

"How nice and comfortable it looked, with the bright fire burning, the tea-kettle singing on it, and you, Pussy, singing before it! - but I think the kettle was singing the loudest. But I heard Ann's step, and hid myself behind the cook's chair, who was sitting at the table darning stockings. Where is the dirty dog?' asked Ann, as she came in. The mistress says he must be washed; but I think a good whipping would be better for him. He followed the master to the station this morning; and when he comes back now in such a state of dirt, the first thing he does is to run into the parlour and leave the marks of his feet all over the clean carpet. But he'll catch it from me.' I thought it was all up

with me now. But the good old cook spoke a kind word for me. 'Let the poor beast alone, Ann,' she said; ‘he has been away all day, and I am sure he is starving. I will wash him myself when he has had something to eat.' 'Will you?' said Ann. I'm sure I'll be only too glad to leave that business to you. Just look what a mess he has made in your clean kitchen, too! Dogs are a great plague.' 'Never mind,' said the cook, rising; 'I'll soon put that to rights. Come away, you stupid fellow! You certainly deserve a whipping; but you must be half starved, and that is punishment enough for this time.' And she took me to the cellar, and gave me a large plateful of bones and meat which she had saved for me.

"You can't think, Pussy, how fast it all disappeare!! I never was so hungry in my life. I was not allowed to come back to the kitchen till my dirty paws had been wiped; and then the cook said to me, 'Now, go and rest, and I will wash you after supper.' And now all my troubles are over; and I can tell you one thing, Pussy-I will never disobey my master again. And now that I have told you my story, you may begin to purr again; it puts me to sleep so nicely."

After supper Puck was washed, and his long silky hair combed out. He was very good, and stood quite still, and waited for permission before he went to the parlour again to ask forgiveness. If my little friends had seen him now, they would all have said he was a darling little dog. His bright eyes sparkled out from his silky hair; but he did not look quite happy yet. A little girl of six years old came into the room, and Puck's master took her on his knee.

"Papa," she said, "does not Puck look pretty and clean again now? And how quiet he is! He does not jump on me, and ask me to play with him. is sorry for what he has done. I wonder if be disobedient again!"

I think he he will ever

"The porter

"I think not, Clara," said her father. at the station told me he had got pushed about and struck till he was quite terrified. Dogs don't forget, when once they have been in difficulties; and they take care another time." After a pause, the father said"Clara, do you think dogs have more sense than little girls and boys?”

"Oh no, papa! they are just animals."

"Well, I know a little girl who has been often punished for disobedience; but she always forgets, and is disobedient again. Do you know such a little girl, Clara?"

Clara hung her head, and did not answer; and just then the nurse came to take her to bed. But as she gave papa his good-night kiss, she whispered, "Para, I'll try and remember too, like Puck."

M.