The road lay by the side of a river; and though Mary’s taste had been formed upon the wild romantic scenery of the Highlands, she yet looked with pleasure on the tamer beauties of an English landscape. And though accustomed to admire even “rocks where the snowflake reposes;” she had also taste, though of a less enthusiastic kind, for the “gay landscapes and gardens of roses,” which, in this more genial clime, bloomed even under winter’s sway. The carriage drove smoothly along, and the sound of the church bell fell at intervals on the ear, “in cadence sweet, now dying all away;” and, at the holy sound, Mary’s heart flew back to the peaceful vale and primitive kirk of Lochmarlie, where all her happy Sabbath had been spent. The view now opened upon the village church, beautifully situated on the slope of a green hill. Parties of straggling villagers in their holiday suits were descried in all directions, some already assembled in the churchyard, others traversing the neat footpaths that led through the meadows. But to Mary’s eyes the well-dressed English rustic, trudging along the smooth path, was a far less picturesque object than the barefooted Highland girl, bounding over trackless heath-covered hills; and the well-preserved glossy blue coat seemed a poor substitute for the varied drapery of the graceful plaid.
So much do early associations tincture all our future ideas.
They had now reached the church, and as Mary adhered to her resolution of attending divine worship, Lady Emily declared her intention of accompanying her, that she might come in for her share of Lady Juliana’s displeasure; but in spite of her levity, the reverend aspect, and meek, yet fervent piety of Dr. Barlow, impressed her with better feelings; and she joined in the service with outward decorum if not with inward devotion. The music consisted of an organ, simply but well played; and to Mary, unaccustomed to any sacred sounds save those twanged through the nose of a Highland precentor, it seemed the music of the spheres.