"Well, he might have been uneasy at the sight of Hooker and Piatt, and he might have thought I was not to be trusted. And then it would have vexed grannie and them all. My grandfather is queer about some things-- I mean he is an old man, and has had trouble in his life, with more ahead, if some folks get their way and so I would have been sorry to see him just then."

"And, Davie, should all this make you less careful to do his will, or more, both as to the spirit and the letter?"

"But, Mr Maxwell, it was not that I thought I was doing wrong, only I hoped grandfather might not come; and even grannie has whiles to--to-- No, I won't say it. Grannie is as true as steel. And I was wrong to do anything to encourage Hooker and Piatt to stay, and I am sorry."

"Davie," said the minister kindly and solemnly, "be always loyal in word and deed, as I know you are in heart, to your grandparents. You are everything to them. I know of no n.o.bler work than you have been doing all winter. I beg your pardon if I have been hard on you; but it hurt me dreadfully to see that doubtful look on your face. I did not mean to be hard."

Davie told all this to Katie a few nights afterward, as they were going home through the fields together. But he did not tell her that he made an errand round behind the camp lest Mr Maxwell should see the tears that came rushing to his eyes; nor did he tell her anything that was said after that.

Indeed, there was but a word or two about the Lord and Master, whose claims to a loving loyalty are supreme, words which Davie never forgot, and only alluded to long afterward, when he and Katie found it easier to talk together about such things. And that the minister had not put their friendship in jeopardy, Katie plainly saw.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

MR FLEMING'S TROUBLES.

A few days after the minister's talk with Davie, the squire and Miss Elizabeth came to pay a visit at Ythan Brae. The squire's visits were rare now, and his coming gave them all pleasure; and as the day was fine, and the old man expressed a wish to go to the sugar-place, they lost no time after dinner in setting out.

The squire and Mr Fleming went in Mr Holt's buggy, as far as it could be taken, but Mrs Fleming went, with Miss Elizabeth and Katie, the near way through the fields. It was an afternoon long to be remembered.

Katie could not tell which she liked best, the walk up the hill with these two, or the walk home again with Davie when he told her of Mr Maxwell's talk with him in the wood. It was pleasant sitting in the sunshine too, and listening to the old squire, and grannie, and them all, and if there had been nothing else to delight her, it would have been enough to see Davie behave so well. For Davie did not think so much of Miss Elizabeth's friendship as Katie did, and did not as a general thing take so much pains as she thought he ought to do to be polite to her friend. But to-day Davie, in his sister's opinion, was kind and "nice" to them all. They heard the sharp ring of his axe as they went up through the pasture, and when they came in among the trees they heard him singing merrily to himself. He made much of grannie, whose first visit it was for the season, and when he heard that his grandfather and Mr Holt were coming by the road, he went off with great strides, like a young giant, to meet them before they should reach a certain hole in the wood road which was deeper than it looked, and where possibly they might have to alight and leave the buggy. By and by he came back with them, carrying the squire's great coat, which he had found heavy in coming up the hill. Then with some boards and an old buffalo-skin and quilt from the camp, he hastened to make comfortable seats for them all.

"I think, grandfather," said he, "since the squire and Miss Elizabeth have come so far--to say nothing of grannie--we should make it worth their while. If Katie will wash out the little kettle, while I make a place for it on the fire, we will have a sugaring-off in an hour or two.

If you had come to-morrow, Miss Elizabeth, you would have seen us turning off a hundredweight and more."

"If there will be time for it," said Mr Fleming doubtfully.

"Plenty of time, grandfather. I will set it a-going, and Katie can attend to it, for there are some buckets east yonder that I have not seen to-day, and I must gather the sap and make an end of it to-night, if I can."

"I think I might be trusted to set it a-going myself, Davie," said Katie, laughing and turning up her sleeves.

Davie had made his morning porridge in the kettle, having been busy very early in the woods, and there were traces of former sugar-making on it also, but of this Katie said nothing. It was pretty to see her quick, light movements, as she busied herself with the work. Even the washing of a porridge pot may be done in a way to interest on-lookers, and well-pleased eyes followed her movements.

A tub of syrup which was to form part of to-morrow's "batch" stood in the camp, and from this a portion was carefully taken that the grounds need not be disturbed, a beaten egg and a cup of sweet milk were added for clarifying purposes, and it was placed on the fire. As it grew hot a dark sc.u.m rose to the top, which Katie with her skimmer removed, and by and by there was nothing to be done but to see that the clear, amber-coloured liquid did not boil over. All the help that her brother gave her was by way of advice, and of this she made as much use as suited her, and Miss Elizabeth listened to them much amused.

But neither Miss Elizabeth nor Katie lost a word of the quiet talk that was going on between the old people. The squire and Mrs Fleming had most of it to themselves, Mr Fleming putting in a word now and then.

Their talk was mostly of old times. If the squire had heard anything new of his friend's trouble as to his debt to Jacob he had forgotten it, as he forgot most things happening from day to day now. It was of the old times in Gershom, even before Mr Fleming's coming, that he was speaking; most of what he said he had said to them often before. He called Davie Hughie, and did not notice that Elizabeth looked anxious and tried to change the talk.

Davie did his part in setting things right by bringing up the question which Ben and he had been discussing lately, as to the salmon fishing on the Beaver River, before the building of the saw-mills had kept the fish away. Then Davie went to his sap-gathering, and after that the talk fell upon graver matters; and though all took part, it was grannie who had most to say, and Elizabeth liked to think afterward of the eager, childlike way in which her father had listened and responded to it all.

He was very fond of telling of his early days, and of his success in life, poor old man, but to-day he acknowledged that this life, if it were all, would be but a poor thing.

"I might have done differently in some things, and I wish I had, though I don't know that it would have amounted to much, anything that I could do."

"And it is well that it is not our ain doings we have to trust to when life is wearing over," said Mrs Fleming, gravely. "I doubt the best of us would find but poor comfort in looking back over our life, when the end is drawing on; it is to Him who is able and willing to save to the uttermost that we have, one and all, to look."

"Yes, I know, there is no one else. And my life is most done, but I haven't never confessed Him, not before men."

"But it's no' too late for that even yet," said Mrs Fleming, gently; "and you _have_ confessed Him in a way, for you have fed the hungry and clothed the naked, and all men trust your word, which, G.o.d forgive them, is more than can be said of some who have His name oftenest on their lips."

"Folks ought to get religion young, as Lizzie did here, and Jacob. I hope it's all right with Jacob. I've seen the time when I would have been glad to come forward and confess Him and do my part in the church, before Lizzie's mother died. But when a man gets on in years it isn't easy for him to come out before the world and do as he ought. I hope it will be all right, and as I told Jacob the other day, when the time does come for me to be judged I'd full as lief be standing on the same platform with old David Fleming as with most any of the professors in Gershom."

"Eh, man! It would be but a poor place to stand in," said Mr Fleming, with a startled movement. Mrs Fleming looked from one to the other a little startled also.

"It is just this," said she, quickly and softly. "Do we love Him best, and honour Him most? No professing or doing will stand to us instead of that, either now or afterwards. And it is our life rather than our lips that should have the telling of our love. Though they should both speak," added she, gravely.

"Ay! that should they," said her husband.

"And if we love Him best and honour Him, that is so far an evidence that we are His, and we need fear no evil."

"I love Him; I know I love Him," said the squire gravely. "As to having honoured Him before the world all these years--I have little to say about that. And now my life is most gone--most gone--"

Davie came back for the last time with his full pails, and Miss Elizabeth was glad that the talk should come to an end, for her father was showing signs of weariness and weakness. There was a little discussion about the propriety of boiling all the sap down to-night, so that the morning's "batch" of sugar should be the larger. That was Davie's plan, but his grandfather objected, and to Katie's intense delight Davie yielded to his decision cheerfully enough. So he set to work to build up the fires, that the process of boiling to syrup what was now in the kettle might be hastened, for it must be taken from the fire and strained and put safely into the camp before they went home.

Katie's sugar was by this time p.r.o.nounced ready to be tested, and Davie hastened to bring from some distant hollow a bucketful of the snow which still lingered in shady places. Over this a spoonful or two of the clear brown liquid from the kettle was spread, and as it stiffened, and after a little became solid, it was p.r.o.nounced to be sugar--though to unaccustomed eyes it would have seemed only a brown syrup still. But by the time it cooled it would be mostly solid sugar, and when the remaining moist part should be drawn off, it would be maple sugar of the very best, Squire Holt declared, and no one knew better than be.

It is not to be supposed that the old people had cared much to have the sugar made for them, or that they tasted it very freely now that it was done. But they had enjoyed seeing it made, and had had a pleasant afternoon. They did not fall into much talk after this. It was nearly sunset, and time for the squire to be at home. So he and Elizabeth did not return to the house, but took the buggy at the point where it had been left, and went straight to the village. Mr and Mrs Fleming went home together over the fields, and Katie was left to help Davie with the straining of the syrup, which was nearly ready now.

"We have had a pleasant afternoon," said Katie; "I only wish the minister had been here, and Miss Betsey, and Mr Burnet. If we had known we might have sent for them."

"It is better as it was. Grandfather liked it better," said Davie.

"The minister was here the other day."

"And you didna tell us!"

"Well--I'm telling you now." And in a little he had told the whole story, shamefacedly, but quite honestly. Katie did not say that she thought the minister had been hard on him--thought it for a while.

However, Davie did not think he had been hard, she could see, and no harm was done.

In Katie's opinion Davie had been wonderfully good and thoughtful all winter. He had very rarely laid himself open to his grandfather's doubts or displeasure. But after this time there was a difference that made itself apparent to eyes that were less watchful than Katie's.

"Loving loyalty," that was just the name for it. In great things and small, after this, the lad laid himself out to please his grandfather.

He was captious with his sisters "whiles," she acknowledged in secret; he was arbitrary with his little brothers when they neglected tasks of his giving; and tried his mother and his grandmother, now and then, as young lads always have, and always will try their mothers and grandmothers, until old heads can be put on young shoulders.

But with his grandfather he was gentle, patient, and considerate, to a degree that surprised even Katie, who had been gentle, patient, and considerate with him all her life. She used to wonder whether her grandfather noticed it. He never spoke of it, but he found fault less frequently, and was less exacting as to times and seasons for work, and as to the lad's comings and goings generally.

Mr Fleming had for a long time said little either of past troubles or future fears, and it was on the past rather than the future that his thoughts dwelt. The future looked dark enough in some of its aspects, but it was by no means hopeless. Davie was more nearly right than Katie was willing to believe, when he said that his grandfather, as well as a good many others in Gershom, were waiting to see "what the Lord was going to do about it," whether it was to be a case of "the righteous never forsaken," or whether this time "the race was to be to the swift, and the battle to the strong."

It may be said of the old man, that on the whole he waited hopefully, or, rather, he looked forward without any special anxiety as to what might be the result of his long controversy with his enemy. Nothing so terrible could happen as had come to him in the past, when his boy had gone down to a dishonoured grave, beyond the reach of hope. Nothing so terrible could happen to the bairns. Every summer and winter pa.s.sing over their heads, made them more able to meet hardship, if hardship lay before them. Of Katie he had long been sure, and of Davie he was growing surer every day. The rest were healthy, wholesome bairns, with no special gift of beauty or cleverness to lay them open to special temptation. They would do well by their mother, and by one another, and G.o.d would guide them, the old man said.

As for himself and his Katie, his dear old wife, their time was nearly over, and they would soon be at peace. At peace! That was the way he put it to himself always. He did not dwell at this time on all that has been promised of the glory to be revealed. He never said that he shrank from the thought of entering through the gates into the heavenly city, out of which his boy must be shut. That would have been rebellion against G.o.d, and he would not rebel.

But he was walking in darkness. His eyes were turned away from His face who is the light of the world, and even when he strove to lift them up, there were clouds and shadows between, that grew darker for a while.

All this had come upon him gradually. After the utter darkness of the winter that followed his son's death, he might have ceased to think so constantly of his loss and his son's ruin if it had not been for the sight of Jacob Holt. If Jacob had never returned, or if he had gone on in his old ways till the end came to him also, he might have forgiven him, at least he might have outlived the bitterness of his anger, and in time might have been comforted for his son, and as other fathers are comforted.

But Jacob came home, and had another chance, and became a changed man, or so it was said of him. As years pa.s.sed he did well for himself, and had power and influence in the town, as his father had had before him.

And when James Fleming died, and the old man fell into his enemy's hand, as he thought, his whole life was made bitter to him.