Kate Carnegie and Those Ministers | Page 6

embarrassment, and was quite confounded.
They were standing together--father and daughter, evidently--and there
was no manner of doubt about him. A spare man, without an ounce of
superfluous flesh, straight as a rod, and having an air of command, with
keen grey eyes, close-cropped hair turning white, a clean-shaven face
except where a heavy moustache covered a firm-set mouth--one

recognised in him a retired army man of rank, a colonel at least, it
might be a general; and the bronze on his face suggested long Indian
service. But he might have been dressed in Rob Roy tartan, or been a
naval officer in full uniform, for all Carmichael knew. A hundred
thousand faces pass before your eyes and are forgotten, mere physical
impressions; you see one, and it is in your heart for ever, as you saw it
the first time. Wavy black hair, a low, straight forehead, hazel eyes
with long eyelashes, a perfectly-shaped Grecian nose, a strong mouth,
whose upper lip had a curve of softness, a clear-cut chin with one
dimple, small ears set high in the head, and a rich creamy
complexion--that was what flashed upon Carmichael as he turned from
the retrievers. He was a man so unobservant of women that he could
not have described a woman's dress to save his life or any other
person's; and now that he is married--he is a middle-aged man now and
threatened with stoutness--it is his wife's reproach that he does not
know when she wears her new spring bonnet for the first time. Yet he
took in this young woman's dress, from the smart hat, with a white
bird's wing on the side, and the close-fitting tailor made jacket, to the
small, well-gloved hand in dogskin, the grey tweed skirt, and one shoe,
with a tip on it, that peeped out below her frock. Critics might have
hinted that her shoulders were too square, and that her figure wanted
somewhat in softness of outline; but it seemed to Carmichael that he
had never seen so winsome or high-bred a woman; and so it has also
seemed to many who have gone farther afield in the world than the
young minister of Drumtochty.
Carmichael was at that age when a man prides himself on dressing and
thinking as he pleases, and had quite scandalised a Muirtown elder--a
stout gentleman, who had come out in '43, and could with difficulty be
weaned from Dr. Chalmers--by making his appearance on the
preceding evening in amazing tweeds and a grey flannel shirt. He
explained casually that for a fifteen-mile walk flannels were absolutely
necessary, and that he was rather pleased to find that he had come from
door to door in four hours and two minutes exactly. His host was at a
loss for words, because he was comparing this unconventional youth
with the fathers, who wore large white stocks and ambled along at
about two and a half miles an hour, clearing their throats also in a very

impressive way, and seasoning the principles of the Free Kirk with
snuff of an excellent fragrance. It was hard even for the most generous
charity to identify the spirit of the Disruption in such a figure, and the
good elder grew so proper and so didactic that Carmichael went from
bad to worse.
"Well, you would find the congregation in excellent order. The
Professor was a most painstaking man, though retiring in disposition,
and his sermons were thoroughly solid and edifying. They were
possibly just a little above the heads of Drumtochty, but I always
enjoyed Mr. Cunningham myself," nodding his head as one who
understood all mysteries.
"Did you ever happen to hear the advice Jamie Soutar gave the
deputation from Muirtown when they came up to see whether
Cunningham would be fit for the North Kirk, where two Bailies stand
at the plate every day, and the Provost did not think himself good
enough to be an elder?" for Carmichael was full of wickedness that day,
and earning a judgment.
His host indicated that the deputation had given in a very full and
satisfactory report--he was, in fact, on the Session of the North
himself--but that no reference had been made to Jamie.
"Well, you must know," and Carmichael laid himself out for narration,
"the people were harassed with raids from the Lowlands during
Cunningham's time, and did their best in self-defence. Spying makes
men cunning, and it was wonderful how many subterfuges the
deputations used to practise. They would walk from Kildrummie as if
they were staying in the district, and one retired tradesman talked about
the crops as if he was a farmer, but it was a pity that he did n't know the
difference between the cereals.
"'Yon man that wes up aifter yir minister, Elspeth,' Hillocks said