Confessions of A Justified Sinner | Page 4

necessity of deprecating their
vengeance. He had hitherto believed that he was living in most cordial
terms with the greater part of the inhabitants of the earth, and with the
powers above in particular: but woe be unto him if he was not soon
convinced of the fallacy of such damning security! for his lady was the
most severe and gloomy of all bigots to the principles of the
Reformation. Hers were not the tenets of the great reformers, but theirs
mightily overstrained and deformed. Theirs was an unguent hard to be
swallowed; but hers was that unguent embittered and overheated until
nature could not longer bear it. She had imbibed her ideas from the
doctrines of one flaming predestinarian divine alone; and these were so
rigid that they became a stumbling block to many of his brethren, and a
mighty handle for the enemies of his party to turn the machine of the
state against them.
The wedding festivities at Dalcastle partook of all the gaiety, not of that
stern age, but of one previous to it. There was feasting, dancing, piping,
and singing: the liquors were handed, around in great fulness, the ale in
large wooden bickers, and the brandy in capacious horns of oxen. The
laird gave full scope to his homely glee. He danced--he snapped his
fingers to the music--clapped his hands and shouted at the turn of the
tune. He saluted every girl in the hall whose appearance was anything
tolerable, and requested of their sweethearts to take the same freedom
with his bride, by way of retaliation. But there she sat at the head of the
hall in still and blooming beauty, absolutely refusing to tread a single
measure with any gentleman there. The only enjoyment in which she
appeared to partake was in now and then stealing a word of sweet
conversation with her favourite pastor about divine things; for he had
accompanied her home after marrying her to her husband, to see her
fairly settled in her new dwelling. He addressed her several times by

her new name, Mrs. Colwan; but she turned away her head disgusted,
and looked with pity and contempt towards the old inadvertent sinner,
capering away in the height of his unregenerated mirth. The minister
perceived the workings of her pious mind, and thenceforward
addressed her by the courteous title of Lady Dalcastle, which sounded
somewhat better, as not coupling her name with one of the wicked: and
there is too great reason to believe that, for all the solemn vows she had
come under, and these were of no ordinary binding, particularly on the
laird's part, she at that time despised, if not abhorred him, in her heart.
The good parson again blessed her, and went away. She took leave of
him with tears in her eyes, entreating him often to visit her in that
heathen land of the Amorite, the Hittite, and the Girgashite: to which he
assented, on many solemn and qualifying conditions--and then the
comely bride retired to her chamber to pray.
It was customary, in those days, for the bride's-man and maiden, and a
few select friends, to visit the new-married couple after they had retired
to rest, and drink a cup to their healths, their happiness, and a numerous
posterity. But the laird delighted not in this: he wished to have his jewel
to himself; and, slipping away quietly from his jovial party, he retired
to his chamber to his beloved, and bolted the door. He found her
engaged with the writings of the Evangelists, and terribly demure. The
laird went up to caress her; but she turned away her head, and spoke of
the follies of aged men, and something of the broad way that leadeth to
destruction. The laird did not thoroughly comprehend this allusion; but
being considerably flustered by drinking, and disposed to take all in
good part, he only remarked, as he took off his shoes and stockings,
that, "whether the way was broad or narrow, it was time that they were
in their bed."
"Sure, Mr. Colwan, you won't go to bed to-night, at such an important
period of your life, without first saying prayers for yourself and me."
When she said this, the laird had his head down almost to the ground,
loosing his shoe-buckle; but when he heard of prayers, on such a night,
he raised his face suddenly up, which was all over as flushed and red as
a rose, and answered:
"Prayers, Mistress! Lord help your crazed head, is this a night for
prayers?"
He had better have held his peace. There was such a torrent of profound

divinity poured out upon him that the laird became ashamed, both of
himself and his new-made spouse, and wist not what to say: but the
brandy helped