And, as Bram filled and lighted his pipe, he hummed softly the rallying
song of the day,-"In story we're told
How our fathers of old
Braved the rage of the winds and the waves;
And crossed the deep o'er,
For this far-away shore,
All because they would never be slaves--brave boys!
All because they would never be slaves.
"The birthright we hold
Shall never be sold,
But sacred maintained to our graves;
And before we comply
We will gallantly die,
For we will not, we will not be slaves--brave boys!
For we will not, we will not be slaves."
In the meantime Semple, fuming and ejaculating, was making his way
slowly home. It was a dark night, and the road full of treacherous soft
places, fatal to that spotless condition of hose and shoes which was one
of his weak points. However, before he had gone very far, he was
overtaken by his son Neil, now a very staid and stately gentleman,
holding under the government a high legal position in the investigation
of the disputed New-Hampshire grants.
He listened respectfully to his father's animadversions on the folly of
the Van Heemskirks; but he was thinking mainly of the first news told
him,--the early return of Katherine. He was conscious that he still
loved Katherine, and that he still hated Hyde. As they approached the
house, the elder saw the gleam of a candle through the drawn blind; and
he asked querulously, "What's your mother doing wi' a candle at this
hour, I wonder?"
"She'll be sewing or reading, father."
"Hoots! she should aye mak' the wark and the hour suit. There's spinning
and knitting for the night-time. Wi' soldiers quartered to the right
hand and the left hand, and a civil war staring us in the face, it's
neither tallow nor wax we'll hae to spare."
He was climbing the pipe-clayed steps as he spoke, and in a few minutes
was standing face to face with the offender. Madam Semple was reading
and, as her husband opened the parlour door, she lifted her eyes from
her book, and let them calmly rest upon him.
"Fire-light and candle-light, baith, Janet! A fair illumination, and nae
ither thing but bad news for it."
"It is for reading the Word, Elder."
"For the night season, meditation, Janet, meditation;" and he lifted the
extinguisher, and put out the candle. "Meditate on what you hae read.
The Word will bide a deal o' thinking about. You'll hae heard the ill
news?"
"I heard naething ill."