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Updated: June 26, 2025
Peden came one cautious step from his shelter, leaning far over to see, a smile of triumph baring his gleaming teeth; another step, while the crowd broke the stifling quiet with shifted feet. Morgan, quick as a serpent strikes, raised to his elbow and fired. Morgan had one clear look at Peden's face as he threw his arms high and fell.
It will be a fine sicht when you and me, Claverhouse, has to sign the Solemn League and Covenant, and hear Sandy Peden, that they call a prophet, preachin' three hours on the sins o' prelacy and dancin'. My certes!" And at the thought thereof Grimond lost the power of speech.
"Nor do I, really," said Ralph, speaking out the inmost soul that is in every young man. As Ralph Peden sat looking at Winsome the thought came sometimes to him but not often "This is Allan Welsh's daughter, the daughter of the woman whom my father once loved, who lies so still under the green sod of Crossthwaite beneath the lea of Skiddaw."
Ye'll have heard tell of Prophet Peden. There was never the wale of him sinsyne, and it's a question wi' mony if there ever was his like afore. He was wild's a peat-hag, fearsome to look at, fearsome to hear, his face like the day of judgment. The voice of him was like a solan's and dinnle'd in folks' lugs, and the words of him like coals of fire.
That lilac and gold went well together, was his thought. Trammelled by the fallen head-gear, Winsome threw her head back, shaking out her tresses in a way that Ralph Peden never forgot. Then she caught at the strings of the errant bonnet. "Oh, let it alone!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Sir?" said Winsome Charteris interrogatively, not imperatively.
Ralph Peden, who had taken a step forward in the instancy of his appeal, came to himself again in a moment. "I beg your pardon," he said very humbly, "I had no right " He paused, uncertain what to say. Winsome Charteris looked up quickly, saw the simplicity of the young man, in one full eye-blink read his heart, then dropped her eyes again and said: "But I thought you liked lilac sunbonnets!"
Not, of course, that she cared for a moment what he thought of her, but he ought to have known better than to have stolen upon her while she was behaving in such a ridiculous, childish way. It showed what he was capable of. "My name is Ralph Peden," he said humbly. "I came from Edinburgh the day before yesterday. I am staying with Mr. Welsh at the manse."
At noon they sent to know the cause. He replied, "Let the people go to their prayers; I neither can, nor will preach this day, for our friends are fallen and fleed before the enemy; they are hagging and hacking them down, and their blood is running like water." When Peden was old, he wandered one day to the grave of Cameron. There he sat down in deep meditation. Desolation brooded over the scene.
Peden shouldered his way through the throng toward the farther end of the long bar, nodding here with a friendly smile, stopping now and then to shake hands with some specially favored patron, throwing commands among his female entertainers from his cold, hard, soulless eyes as he passed along.
Those who had talked with loud boasts, picturesque threats, high-pitched laughter, of going out to find this man but a little while before, were silent now and cold around the gills as fish. Morgan was watching the two men at the front door while he held Peden up those few seconds.
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