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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>WHITE HEATHER (VOL. III)</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="White Heather (Volume III of 3)" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="William Black" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1885" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="43446" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-08-11" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="White Heather (Volume III of 3) A Novel" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="White Heather (Volume III of 3) A Novel" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="heather3.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-08-11T23:09:07.176974+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43446" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="William Black" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2013-08-11" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a7 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="white-heather-vol-iii"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">WHITE HEATHER (VOL. III)</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: White Heather (Volume III of 3) -<br /> A Novel -<br /> -<br />Author: William Black -<br /> -<br />Release Date: August 11, 2013 [EBook #43446] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>WHITE HEATHER (VOLUME III OF 3)</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">WHITE HEATHER</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">A Novel</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">WILLIAM BLACK</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">AUTHOR OF 'MACLEOD OF DARE,' -<br />'JUDITH SHAKESPEARE,' ETC.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics small">IN THREE VOLUMES</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">VOL. III.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">London -<br />MACMILLAN AND CO. -<br />1885</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">The right of translation is reserved.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Printed by R. & R. CLARK, Edinburgh.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS OF VOL. III.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER I.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-message">A MESSAGE</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER II.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#in-glasgow-town">IN GLASGOW TOWN</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER III.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-resolve">A RESOLVE</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER IV.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-bolder-step">A BOLDER STEP</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER V.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-meeting">A MEETING</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VI.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#confession">CONFESSION</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VII.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#at-the-pear-tree-well">AT THE PEAR-TREE WELL</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER VIII.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-coming-of-troubles">THE COMING OF TROUBLES</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER IX.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#in-other-climes">IN OTHER CLIMES</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER X.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-challenge">A CHALLENGE</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XI.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-wedding">A WEDDING</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XII.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#in-darkened-ways">IN DARKENED WAYS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XIII.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#in-absence">IN ABSENCE</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XIV.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#wanderings-in-the-west">WANDERINGS IN THE WEST</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XV.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-pledge-redeemed">A PLEDGE REDEEMED</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>CHAPTER XVI.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-factor-of-balnavrain">THE FACTOR OF BALNAVRAIN</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-message"><span class="bold x-large">WHITE HEATHER.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A MESSAGE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Clear and brilliant in their blue and white are these shining -northern skies; and the winds that come blowing over the -moorland are honey-scented from the heather; and the -wide waters of the loch are all of a ruffled and shimmering -silver, with a thin fringe of foam along the curving bays. -And this is Love Meenie that comes out from the cottage -and comes down to the road; with perhaps less of the -wild-rose tint in her cheeks than used to be there, and less -of the ready light of gladness that used to leap into her -blue-gray eyes; but still with that constant gentleness of -expression that seems to bring her into accord with all the -beautiful things in the landscape around her. And, indeed, -on this particular morning she is cheerful enough; walking -briskly, chatting to the ancient terrier that is trotting at her -side, and equably regarding now the velvet-soft shadows -that steal along the sunlit slopes of Clebrig, and now the -wheeling and circling of some peewits that have been -startled from their marshy haunts by the side of the stream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And who knows but that there may be a message or a -bit of news for us this morning?' she says to the faithful -Harry. 'For yonder comes the mail. And indeed it's -well for you, my good little chap, that you can't understand -how far away Glasgow is; I suppose you expect to see your -master at any minute, at every turn of the road. And if -he should send you a message—or Maggie either—how am -I to tell you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pretty Nelly is at the door of the inn, scattering -food to the fowls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's a peautiful moarning, Miss Douglas,' she says.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And here is Mr. Murray, with his pipe, and his occultly -humorous air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And are you come along for your letters, Miss Meenie?' -he says. 'Ay, ay, it is not an unusual thing for a young -leddy to be anxious about a letter—it is not an unusual -thing at ahl.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now the mail-car comes swinging up to the door; -the one or two passengers alight, glad to stretch their legs; -the letter bags are hauled down, and Miss Douglas follows -them indoors. Mrs. Murray, who acts as post-mistress, is -not long in sorting out the contents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Two for me?' says Meenie. 'And both from Glasgow? -Well, now, that does not often happen.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But of course she could not further interrupt the -post-mistress in the performance of her duties; so she put the -letters in her pocket; passed out from the inn and through -the little crowd of loiterers; and made for the high-road -and for home. She was in no hurry to open these budgets -of news. Such things came but once in a while to this -remote hamlet; and when they did come they were leisurely -and thoroughly perused—not skimmed and thrown aside. -Nevertheless when she got up to the high-road she thought -she would pause there for just a second, and run her eye -over the pages, lest there might be some mention of Ronald's -name. She had heard of him but little of late; and he had -never once written to her—perhaps he had no excuse for -doing so. It was through Maggie that from time to time -she got news of him; and now it was Maggie's letter that -she opened first.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, there was not much about Ronald. Maggie was -at school; Ronald was busy; he seldom came over to the -minister's house. And so Meenie, with a bit of a sigh, put -that letter into her pocket, and turned to the other. But -now she was indifferent and careless. It was not likely -that her sister had anything to say about Ronald; for he -had not yet called at the house. Moreover, Mrs. Gemmill, -from two or three expressions she had used, did not seem -anxious to make his acquaintance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then the girl's breath caught, and she became -suddenly pale. '</span><em class="italics">Drinking himself to death, in the lowest of -low company</em><span>'—these were the words confronting her startled -eyes; and the next instant she had darted a glance along -the road, and another back towards the inn, as if with a -sudden strange fear that some one had overseen. No, -she was all alone; with the quickly closed letter in her -trembling hand; her brain bewildered; her heart beating; -and with a kind of terror on her face. And then, rather -blindly, she turned and walked away in the other -direction—not towards her own home; and still held the letter -tightly clasped, as if she feared that some one might get at -this ghastly secret.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">Ronald!—Ronald!</em><span>'—there was a cry of anguish in -her heart; for this was all too sharp and sudden an end to -certain wistful dreams and fancies. These were the dreams -and fancies of long wakeful nights, when she would lie and -wonder what was the meaning of his farewell look towards -her; and wonder if he could guess that his going away was -to change all her life for her; and wonder whether, if all -things were to go well with him, he would come back and -claim her love—that was there awaiting him, and would -always await him, whether he ever came back or no. And -sometimes, indeed, the morning light brought a joyous -assurance with it; she knew well why he had not ventured -to hand her that tell-tale message that he had actually -written out and addressed to her; but in the glad future, -when he could come with greater confidence and declare -the truth—would she allow father, or mother, or any one -else to interfere? On these mornings the Mudal-Water -seemed to laugh as it went rippling by; it had a friendly -sound; she could hear it</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'Move the sweet forget-me-nots</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">That grow for happy lovers.'</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And at such times her favourite and secret reading was of -women who had been bold and generous with their love; -and she feared she had been timid and had fallen in too -easily with her mother's schemes for her; but now that she -understood herself better—now that her heart had revealed -itself plainly to her—surely, if ever that glad time were to -come—if ever she were to see him hasten along to the little -garden-gate—on the very first moment of his arrival—she -would not stint her welcome of him? White, white were -the mornings on which such fancies filled her head; and -the Mudal laughed along its clear brown shallows; and -there was a kind of music in the moorland air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">Drinking himself to death, in the lowest of low company:</em><span>' -black night seemed to have fallen upon her, and a wild -bewilderment, and a crushing sense of hopelessness that -shut out for ever those fair visions of the future. She did -not stay to ask whether this might not be a woman's -exaggeration or the mere gossip of a straitlaced set; the blow -had fallen too suddenly to let her reason about it; she only -knew that the very pride of her life, the secret hope of her -heart, had been in a moment extinguished. And Ronald—Ronald -that was ever the smartest and handsomest of them -all—the gayest and most audacious, the very king of all the -company whithersoever he went—was it this same Ronald -who had in so short a time become a bleared and besotted -drunkard, shunning the public ways, hiding in ignoble -haunts, with the basest of creatures for his only friends? -And she—that had been so proud of him—that had been -so assured of his future—nay, that had given him the love -of her life, and had sworn to herself that, whether he ever -came to claim it or no, no other man should take his place -in her heart—she it was who had become possessed of this -dreadful secret, while all the others were still imagining that -Ronald was as the Ronald of yore. She dared not go -back to Inver-Mudal—not yet, at least. She went away -along the highway; and then left that for a path that led -alongside a small burn; and by and by, when she came to -a place where she was screened from all observation by -steep and wooded banks, she sat down there with some -kind of vague notion that she ought more carefully to read -this terrible news; but presently she had flung herself, face -downward, on the heather, in an utter agony of grief, and -there she lay and sobbed and cried, with her head buried -in her hands. '</span><em class="italics">Ronald! Ronald!</em><span>' her heart seemed to -call aloud in its despair; but how was any appeal to be -carried to him—away to Glasgow town? And was this the -end? Was he never coming back? The proud young life -that promised so fair to be sucked under and whirled away -in a black current; and as for her—for her the memory of -a few happy days spent on Mudal's banks, and years and -years of lonely thinking over what might have been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sharp whistle startled her; and she sprang to her feet, -and hastily dried her eyes. A Gordon setter came ranging -through the strip of birch-wood, and then its companion; -both dogs merely glanced at her—they were far too intent -on their immediate work to take further notice. And then -it quickly occurred to her that, if this were Lord Ailine -who was coming along, perhaps she might appeal to -him—she might beg of him to write to Ronald—or even to -go to Glasgow—for had not these two been companions -and friends? And he was a man—he would know what -to do—what could she do, a helpless girl? Presently -Lord Ailine appeared, coming leisurely along the banks -of the little stream in company with a keeper and a -young lad; and when he saw her, he raised his cap and -greeted her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Don't let us disturb you, Miss Douglas,' said he. -'Gathering flowers for the dinner-table, I suppose?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I hope I have done no harm,' said she, though her -mind was so agitated that she scarcely knew what she said. -'I—I have not seen any birds—nor a hare either.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Harm? No, no,' he said good-naturedly. 'I hope -your mamma is quite well. There's a haunch of a roe-buck -at the lodge that Duncan can take along this afternoon——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your lordship,' said the keeper reprovingly, 'there's -Bella drawing on to something.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good morning, Miss Douglas,' he said quickly, and -the next moment he was off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But even during that brief interview she had instinctively -arrived at the conclusion that it was not for her to spread -about this bruit in Inver-Mudal. She could not. This -news about Ronald to come from her lips—with perhaps -this or that keeper to carry it on to the inn and make it -the topic of general wonder there? They would hear of -it soon enough. But no one—not even any one in her own -household—would be able to guess what it meant to her; -as yet she herself could hardly realise it, except that all -of a sudden her life seemed to have grown dark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had to get back to the cottage in time for the mid-day -dinner, and she sate at table there, pale and silent, and -with a consciousness as of guilt weighing upon her. She -even did her best to eat something, in order to avoid their -remarks and looks; but she failed in that, and was glad -to get away as soon as she could to the privacy of her -own room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'm sure I don't know what's the matter with Williamina,' -Mrs. Douglas said with a sigh. 'She has not been -looking herself for many a day back; and she seems going -from bad to worse—she ate hardly a scrap at dinner.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course it was for the Doctor to prescribe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She wants a change,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A change,' the little dame retorted with some asperity, -for this was a sore subject with her. 'She would have had -a change long before now, but for her and you together. -Three months ago I wanted her sent to Glasgow——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Glasgow—for any one in indifferent health—' the -highland Doctor managed to interpolate; but she would not -listen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'm sure I don't understand the girl. She has no -proper pride. Any other girl in her position would be -glad to have such chances, and eager to make use of them. -But no—she would sooner go looking after a lot of cottar's -children than set to work to qualify herself for taking her -proper place in society; and what is the use of my talking -when you encourage her in her idleness?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I like to have the girl at home,' he said, rather feebly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There,' she said, producing a letter and opening -it—although he had heard the contents a dozen times before. -'There it is—in black and white—a distinct invitation. -"Could you let Meenie come to us for a month or six -weeks when we go to Brighton in November?"'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' said the good-natured Doctor, 'that would be a -better kind of a change. Sea-air—sunlight—plenty of -society and amusement.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She shall not go there, nor anywhere else, with my -cousin and his family, until she has fitted herself for taking -such a position,' said the little woman peremptorily. 'Sir -Alexander is good-nature itself, but I am not going to send -him a half-educated Highland girl that he would be ashamed -of. Why, the best families in England go to Brighton for -the winter—every one is there. It would be worse than -sending her to London. And what does this month or six -weeks mean?—Surely it is plain enough. They want to -try her. They want to see what her accomplishments are. -They want to see whether they can take her abroad with -them, and present her at Paris and Florence and Rome. -Every year now Sir Alexander goes abroad at Christmas -time; and of course if she satisfied them she would be -asked to go also—and there, think of that chance!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The girl is well enough,' said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was on the point of retorting that, as far as he knew -anything about the matter, Williamina was well enough. -But she spared him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, she has no proper pride,' the little Dresden-china -woman continued. 'And just now, when everything is in -her favour. Agatha never had such chances. Agatha -never had Williamina's good looks. Of course, I say -nothing against Mr. Gemmill—he is a highly respectable -man—and if the business is going on as they say it is going, -I don't see why they should not leave Queen's Crescent -and take a larger house—up by the West End Park. And -he is an intelligent man, too; the society they have is -clever and intellectual—you saw in Agatha's last letter -about the artists' party she had—why, their names are in -every newspaper—quite distinguished people, in that way -of life. And, at all events, it would be a beginning. -Williamina would learn something. Agatha is a perfect -musician—you can't deny that.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But here the big Doctor rebelled; and he brought the -weight of his professional authority to bear upon her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, look here, Jane, when I said that the girl wanted -a change, I meant a change; but not a change to singing-lessons, -and music-lessons, and German lessons, and Italian -lessons, and not a change to an atmosphere like that of -Glasgow. Bless my soul, do you think </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> kind of change -will bring back the colour to her cheek, and give her an -appetite, and put some kind of cheerfulness into her? -Queen's Crescent! She's not going to Queen's Crescent -with my will. Brighton, if you like.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Brighton? To get herself laughed at, and put in the -background, as a half-educated ignorant Highland peasant -girl? So long as she is what she is, she shall not go to -Brighton with my will.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So here was an absolute dead-lock so far as Meenie's -future was concerned; but she knew nothing of it; and -if she had known she would not have heeded much. It -was not of her own future she was thinking. And it seemed -so terrible to her to know that there was nothing she would -not have adventured to save this man from destruction, -and to know that she was incapable of doing anything at -all. If she could but see him for a moment—to make an -appeal to him; if she could but take his hand in hers; -would she not say that there had been timidity, doubt, -misapprehension in the past, but that now there was no time -for any of these; she had come to claim him and save him -and restore him to himself—no matter what he might think -of her? Indeed she tried to put all thought of herself out -of the matter. She would allow no self-pride to interfere, -if only she could be of the smallest aid to him, if she -could stretch out her hand to him, and appeal to him, and -drag him back. But how? She seemed so helpless. And -yet her anxiety drove her to the consideration of a hundred -wild and impossible schemes, insomuch that she could -not rest in her own room, to which she had retreated for -safety and quiet. She put on her bonnet again and went -out—still with that guilty consciousness of a secret hanging -over her; and she went down the road and over the bridge; -and then away up the solitary valley through which the -Mudal flows. Alas! there was no laughing over the brown -shallows now; there was no thinking of</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'the sweet forget-me-nots,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">That grow for happy lovers';</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>all had become dark around her; and the giant grasp of -Glasgow had taken him away from her, and dragged him -down, and blotted out for ever the visions of a not -impossible future with which she had been wont to beguile the -solitary hours. '</span><em class="italics">Drinking himself to death, in the lowest -of low company:</em><span>' could this be Ronald, that but a few -months ago had been the gayest of any, with audacious -talk of what he was going to try for, with health and -happiness radiant in his eyes? And it seemed to her that -her sister Agatha had been proud of writing these words, -and proud of the underlining of them, and that there was -a kind of vengeance in them; and the girl's mouth was -shut hard; and she was making vague and fierce resolutions -of showing to all of them—far and near—that she -was not ashamed of her regard for Ronald Strang, -gamekeeper or no gamekeeper, if ever the chance should serve. -Ashamed! He had been for her the very king of men—in -his generosity, his courage, his gentleness, his manliness, -his modesty, and his staunch and unfaltering fealty to his -friends. And was he to fall away from that ideal, and to -become a wreck, a waif, an outcast; and she to stand by -and not stretch out a hand to save?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But what could she do? All the day she pondered; -all the evening; and through the long, silent, and wakeful -night. And when, at last, as the gray of the dawn showed -in the small window, she had selected one of these hundred -bewildered plans and schemes, it seemed a fantastic thing -that she was about to do. She would send him a piece -of white heather. He would know it came from her—he -would recognise the postmark, and also her handwriting. -And if he took it as a message and an appeal, as a token -of good wishes and friendliness, and the hope of better -fortune? Or if—and here she fell a-trembling, for it was -a little cold in these early hours—if he should take it as -a confession, as an unmaidenly declaration? Oh, she did -not care. It was all she could think of doing; and do -something she must. And she remembered with a timid -and nervous joy her own acknowledged influence over -him—had not Maggie talked of it a thousand times?—and if -he were to recognise this message in its true light, what -then? '</span><em class="italics">Ronald! Ronald!</em><span>' her heart was still calling, with -something of a tremulous hope amid all its grief and pity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was out and abroad over the moorland long before any -one was astir, and searching with an anxious diligence, and -as yet without success. White heather is not so frequently -met with in the North as in the West Highlands; and yet in -Sutherlandshire it is not an absolute rarity; many a time -had she come across a little tuft of it in her wanderings -over the moors. But now, search as she might, she could -not find the smallest bit; and time began to press; for this -was the morning for the mail to go south—if she missed it, -she would have to wait two more days. And as half-hour -after half-hour went by, she became more anxious and -nervous and agitated; she went rapidly from knoll to knoll, -seeking the likeliest places; and all in vain. It was a -question of minutes now. She could hear the mail-cart on the -road behind her; soon it would pass her and go on to the -inn, where it would remain but a brief while before setting -out again for Lairg. And presently, when the mail-cart -did come along and go by, then she gave up the quest in -despair; and in a kind of bewildered way set out for home. -Her heart was heavy and full of its disappointment; and -her face was paler a little than usual; but at least her eyes -told no tales.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, all of a sudden, as she was crossing the Mudal -bridge, she caught sight of a little tuft of gray away along -the bank and not far from the edge of the stream. At first -she thought it was merely a patch of withered heather; and -then a wild hope possessed her; she quickly left the bridge -and made her way towards it; and the next moment she -was joyfully down on her knees, selecting the whitest spray -she could find. And the mail-cart?—it would still be at the -inn—the inn was little more than half a mile off—could she -run hard and intercept them after all, and send her white-dove -message away to the south? To think of it was to -try it, at all events; and she ran as no town-bred girl ever -ran in her life—past the Doctor's cottage, along the wide -and empty road, past the keeper's house and the kennels, -across the bridge that spans the little burn. Alas! there -was the mail-cart already on its way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Johnnie, Johnnie!' she called.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Happily the wind was blowing towards him; he heard, -looked back, and pulled up his horses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wait a minute—I have a letter for you to take!' she -called, though her strength was all gone now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet she managed to get quickly down to the inn, -and astonished Mrs. Murray by breathlessly begging for an -envelope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell Nelly—tell Nelly,' she said, while her trembling -fingers wrote the address, 'to come and take this to the -mail-cart—they're waiting—Johnnie will post it at Lairg.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, when she had finished the tremulous address, -and carefully dried it with the blotting-paper, and given the -little package to Nelly, and bade her run—quick, quick—to -hand it to the driver, then the girl sank back in the -chair and began laughing in a strange, half-hysterical way, -and then that became a burst of crying, with her face -hidden in her hands. But the good-hearted Mrs. Murray -was there; and her arms were round the girl's neck; and -she was saying, in her gentle Highland way—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, well, now, to think you should hef had such a run -to catch the mail-cart—and no wonder you are dead-beat—ay, -ay, and you not looking so well of late, Miss Meenie. -But you will just rest here a while; and Nelly will get you -some tea; and there is no need for you to go back home -until you have come to yourself better. No, you hef not -been looking well lately; and you must not tire yourself -like this—dear me, the place would be quite different -althogether if anything was to make you ill.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-glasgow-town"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN GLASGOW TOWN.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was as late as half-past ten o'clock—and on a sufficiently -gray and dull and cheerless morning—that Ronald's -landlady, surprised not to have heard him stirring, knocked at -his room. There was no answer. Then she knocked -again, opened the door an inch or two, and dropped a letter -on the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Are ye no up yet?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sound of her voice aroused him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In a minute, woman,' he said sleepily; and, being thus -satisfied, the landlady went off, shutting the door behind her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose in the bed and looked around him, in a dazed -fashion. He was already partially dressed, for he had been -up two hours before, but had thrown himself down on the -bed again, over-fatigued, half-stupefied, and altogether -discontented. The fact is, he had come home the night -before in a reckless mood, and had sate on through hour -after hour until it was nearly dawn, harassing himself with -idle dreams and idle regrets, drinking to drown care, -smoking incessantly, sometimes scrawling half-scornful -rhymes. There were all the evidences now on the table -before him—a whisky-bottle, a tumbler, a wooden pipe and -plenty of ashes, a sheet of paper scrawled over in an -uncertain hand. He took up that sheet to recall what he had -written:</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">King Death came striding along the road,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And he laughed aloud to see</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">How every rich man's mother's son</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Would take to his heels and flee.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Duke, lord, or merchant, off they skipped,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Whenever that he drew near;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And they dropped their guineas as wild they ran,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And their faces were white with fear.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">But the poor folk labouring in the fields</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Watched him as he passed by;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And they took lo their spades and mattocks again,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And turned to their work with a sigh.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Then farther along the road he saw</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">An old man sitting alone;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">His head lay heavy upon his hands,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And sorrowful was his moan.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Old age had shrivelled and bent his frame;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Age and hard work together</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Had scattered his locks, and bleared his eyes—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Age and the winter weather.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'Old man,' said Death, 'do you tremble to know</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">That now you are near the end?'</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">The old man looked: 'You are Death,' said he,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'And at last I've found a friend.'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was a strange kind of mood for a young fellow to -have fallen into; but he did not seem to think so. As he -contemplated the scrawled lines—with rather an absent -and preoccupied air—this was what he was saying to -himself—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If the old gentleman would only come striding along -the Port Dundas Road, I know one that would be glad -enough to go out and meet him and shake hands with him, -this very minute.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went to the window and threw it open, and sate -down: the outer air would be pleasanter than this inner -atmosphere, impregnated with the fumes of whisky and -tobacco; and his head was burning, and his pulses heavy. -But the dreariness of this outlook!—the gray pavements, -the gray railway station, the gray sheds, the gray skies; and -evermore the dull slumberous sound of the great city already -plunged in its multitudinous daily toil. Then he began to -recall the events of the preceding evening; and had not -Mrs. Menzies promised to call for him, about eleven, to -drive him out to see some of her acquaintances at -Milngavie? Well, it would be something to do; it would be -a relief to get into the fresher air—to get away from this -hopeless and melancholy neighbourhood. Kate Menzies -had high spirits; she could laugh away remorse and -discontent and depression; she could make the hours -go by somehow. And now, as it was almost eleven, he -would finish his dressing and be ready to set out when -she called; as for breakfast, no thought of that entered his -mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he chanced to see something white lying on the -floor—an envelope—perhaps this was a note from Kate, -saying she was too busy that morning and could not come -for him? He went and took up the letter; and instantly—as -he regarded the address on it—a kind of bewilderment, -almost of fear, appeared on his face. For well he -knew Meenie's handwriting: had he not pondered over -every characteristic of it—the precise small neatness of it, -the long loops of the </span><em class="italics">l</em><span>'s, the German look of the capital R? -And why should Meenie write to him?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He opened the envelope and took out the bit of white -heather that Meenie had so hastily despatched: there was -no message, not the smallest scrap of writing. But was not -this a message—and full of import, too; for surely Meenie -would not have adopted this means of communicating with -him at the mere instigation of an idle fancy? And why -should she have sent it—and at this moment? Had she -heard, then? Had any gossip about him reached -Inver-Mudal? And how much had she heard? There was a -kind of terror in his heart as he went slowly back to the -window, and sate down there, still staring absently at this -token that had been sent him, and trying hard to make out -the meaning of it. What was in Meenie's mind? What -was her intention? Not merely to give him a sprig of -white heather with wishes for good luck; there was more -than that, as he easily guessed; but how much more? -And at first there was little of joy or gladness or gratitude -in his thinking; there was rather fear, and a wondering as -to what Meenie had heard of him, and a sickening sense of -shame. The white gentleness of the message did not strike -him; it was rather a reproach—a recalling of other -days—Meenie's eyes were regarding him with proud -indignation—this was all she had to say to him now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A man's voice was heard outside; the door was brusquely -opened; Jimmy Laidlaw appeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What, man, no ready yet? Are ye just out o' your -bed? Where's your breakfast? Dinna ye ken it's eleven -o'clock?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ronald regarded him with no friendly eye. He wished -to be alone; there was much to think of; there was more -in his mind than the prospect of a rattling, devil-may-care -drive out to Milngavie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is Kate below?' said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She is that. Look sharp, man, and get on your coat. -She doesna like to keep the cob standing.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Look here, Laidlaw,' Ronald said, 'I wish ye would -do me a good turn. Tell her that—that I'll be obliged if -she will excuse me; I'm no up to the mark; ye'll have a -merrier time of it if ye go by yourselves; there now, like a -good fellow, make it straight wi' her.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do ye want her to jump doon ma throat?' retorted -Mr. Laidlaw, with a laugh. 'I'll tak' no sic message. -Come, come, man, pull yoursel' thegither. What's the -matter? Hammer and tongs in your head?—the fresh air -'ll drive that away. Come along!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The last word's the shortest,' Ronald said stubbornly. -'I'm not going. Tell her not to take it ill—I'm—I'm -obliged to her, tell her——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Indeed, I'll leave you and her to fight it out between -ye,' said Laidlaw. 'D'ye think I want the woman to snap -my head off?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He left, and Ronald fondly hoped that they would drive -away and leave him to himself. But presently there was a -light tapping at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He recognised the voice, and he managed to throw a -coat over his shoulders—just as Kate Menzies, without -further ceremony, made her appearance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What's this now?' exclaimed the buxom widow—who -was as radiant and good-natured and smartly dressed as -ever—'what does this daft fellow Laidlaw mean by bringing -me a message like that? I ken ye better, Ronald, my lad. -Down in the mouth?—take a hair o' the dog that bit ye. -Here, see, I'll pour it out for ye.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went straight to the bottle, uncorked it, and poured -out about a third of a tumblerful of whisky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald, Ronald, ye're an ill lad to want this in the -morning; but what must be, must; here, put some life -into ye. The day'll be just splendid outside the town; -and old Jaap's with us too; and I've got a hamper; and -somewhere or other we'll camp out, like a band of gypsies. -Dinna fear, lad; I'll no drag ye into the MacDougals' -house until we're on the way back; and then it'll just be -a cup o' tea and a look at the bairns, and on we drive again -to the town. What's the matter? Come on, my lad!—we'll -have a try at "Cauld Kail in Aberdeen" when we get -away frae the houses.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Katie, lass,' said he, rather shamefacedly, 'I'm—I'm -sorry that I promised—but I'll take it kind of ye to excuse -me—I'm no in the humour someway—and ye'll be better -by yourselves——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, and what good 'll ye do by pu'ing a wry mouth?' -said she tauntingly. '"The devil was ill, the devil a saint -would be." Here, man! it's no the best medicine, but it's -better than none.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took the whisky to him, and gave him a hearty slap -on the shoulder. There was a gleam of sullen fire in his eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's ill done of ye, woman, to drive a man against his -will,' he said, and he retreated from her a step or two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' said she proudly, and she threw the whisky into the -coal-scuttle, and slammed the tumbler down on the table, -for she had a temper too, 'if ye'll no be coaxed, there's -them that will. If that's what Long John does for your -temper, I'd advise you to change and try Talisker. Good -morning to ye, my braw lad, and thank ye for your courtesy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stalked from the room, and banged the door behind -her when she left. But she was really a good-hearted kind -of creature; before she had reached the outer door she -had recovered herself; and she turned and came into the -room again, a single step or so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald,' she said, in quite a different voice, 'it 'll no -be for your good to quarrel wi' me—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I wish for no quarrel wi' ye, Katie, woman——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For I look better after ye than some o' them. If ye'll -no come for the drive, will ye look in in the afternoon or -at night, if it suits ye better? Seven o'clock, say—to show -that there's no ill feeling between us.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, I will,' said he—mainly to get rid of her; for, -indeed, he could scarcely hear what she was saying to him -for thinking of this strange and mysterious message that -had come to him from Meenie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, when she had gone, he rapidly washed and -dressed, and went away out from the house—out by the -Cowcaddens, and Shamrock Street, and West Prince's -Street, and over the Kelvin, and up to Hillhead, to certain -solitary thoroughfares he had discovered in his devious -wanderings; and all the time he was busy with various -interpretations of this message from Meenie and of her -reasons for sending it. At first, as has been said, there -was nothing for him but shame and self-abasement; this -was a reproach; she had heard of the condition into which -he had fallen; this was to remind him of what had been. -And indeed, it was now for the first time that he began to -be conscious of what that condition was. He had fled to -those boon-companions as a kind of refuge from the -hopelessness of the weary hours, from the despair with regard to -the future that had settled down over his life. He had laughed, -drunk, smoked, and sung the time away, glad to forget. When -haunting memories came to rebuke, then there was a call -for another glass, another song. Nay, he could even make -apologies to himself when the immediate excitement was -over. Why should he do otherwise? The dreams conjured up -by the Americans had no more charms for him. Why should -he work towards some future that had no interest for him?</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Death is the end of life; ah, why</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Should life all labour be?</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And so Kate Menzies's dog-cart became a pleasant thing, as -it rattled along the hard stony roads; and many a merry -glass they had at the wayside inns; and then home again -in the evening to supper, and singing, and a good-night -bacchanalian festival at the Harmony Club. The hours -passed; he did not wish to think of what his life had -become; enough if, for the time being, he could banish the -horrors of the aching head, the hot pulse, the trembling hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But if Meenie had heard of all this, how would it appear -to her? and he made no doubt that she had heard. It -was some powerful motive that had prompted her to do this -thing. He knew that her sister had been making inquiries -about him; his brother's congregation was a hot-bed of -gossip; if any news of him had been sent by that agency, -no doubt it was the worst. And still Meenie did not turn -away from him with a shudder? He took out the envelope -again. What could she mean? Might he dare to think it -was this—that, no matter what had happened, or what she -had heard, she still had some little faith in him, that the -recollection of their old friendship was not all gone away? -Reproach it might be—but perhaps also an appeal? And if -Meenie had still some interest in what happened to him——?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would go no farther than that. It was characteristic -of the man that, even with this white token of goodwill and -remembrance and good wishes before his eyes—with this -unusual message just sent to him from one who was -generally so shy and reserved—he permitted to himself no -wildly daring fancies or bewildering hopes. Nor had the -majesty of the Stuarts of Glengask and Orosay anything to -do with this restraint: it was the respect that he paid to -Meenie herself. And yet—and yet this was a friendly -token; it seemed to make the day whiter somehow; it was -with no ill-will she had been thinking of him when she -gathered it from one of the knolls at the foot of Clebrig or -from the banks of Mudal-Water. So white and fresh it -was; it spoke of clear skies and sweet moorland winds: -and there seemed to be the soft touch of her fingers still -on it as she had pressed it into the envelope; and it was -Meenie's own small white hand that had written that -rather trembling '</span><em class="italics">Mr. Ronald Strang</em><span>.' A gentle message; -he grew to think that there was less of reproach in it; if -she had heard evil tidings of him, perhaps she was sorry -more than anything else; Meenie's eyes might have sorrow -in them and pain, but anger—never. And her heart—well, -surely her heart could not have been set bitterly against -him, or she would not have sent him this mute little token -of remembrance, as if to recall the olden days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then he rose and drove against the bars that caged -him in. Why should the ghastly farce be played any -longer? Why should he go through that dull mechanical -routine in which he had no interest whatever? Let others -make what money they choose; let others push forward to -any future that they might think desirable; let them aim -at being first in the world's fight for wealth, and having -saloon-carriages, and steam-yachts on Lake Michigan, and -cat-boats on Lake George: but as for him, if Lord Ailine, -now, would only let him go back to the little hamlet in the -northern wilds, and give him charge of the dogs again, and -freedom to ask Dr. Douglas to go with him for a turn at -the mountain hares or for a day's salmon-fishing on the -Mudal—in short, if only he could get back to his old life -again, with fair skies over him, and fresh blowing winds -around him, and wholesome blood running cheerily through -his veins? And then the chance, at some hour or other of -the long day, of meeting Meenie, and finding the beautiful, -timid, Highland eyes fixed on his: 'Are you going along -to the inn, Ronald?' he could almost hear her say. 'And -will you be so kind as to take these letters for me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But contracted habits are not so easily shaken off as all -that; and he was sick and ill at ease; and when the hour -came for him to go down and see Kate Menzies and her -friends, perhaps he was not altogether sorry that he had -made a definite promise which he was bound to keep. He -left the envelope, with its piece of white heather, at home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, he was rather dull, they thought; and -there was some facetious raillery over his not having yet -recovered from the frolic of the previous night; with frequent -invitations to take a hair of the dog that had bitten him. -Kate was the kindest; she had been a little alarmed by the -definite repugnance he had shown in the morning; she was -glad to be friends with him again. As for him—well, he -was as good-natured as ever; but rather absent in manner; -for sometimes, amid all their boisterous </span><em class="italics">camaraderie</em><span>, he -absolutely forgot what they were saying; and in a kind of -dream he seemed to see before him the sunlit Strath-Terry, -and the blue waters of the loch, and Mudal's stream -winding through the solitary moorland waste—and a young girl -there stooping to pick up something from the heather.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-resolve"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A RESOLVE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The days passed; no answer came to that mute message -of hers; nay, how could she expect any answer? But -these were terrible days to her—of mental torture, and -heart-searching, and unceasing and unsatisfied longing, and -yearning, and pity. And then out of all this confusion of -thinking and suffering there gradually grew up a clear and -definite resolve. What if she were to make of that bit of -white heather but an </span><em class="italics">avant-courier</em><span>? What if she were -herself to go to Glasgow, and seek him out, and confront -him, and take him by the hand? She had not overrated -her old influence with him: well she knew that. And how -could she stand by idle and allow him to perish? The -token she had sent him must have told him of her thinking of -him; he would be prepared; perhaps he would even guess -that she had come to Glasgow for his sake? Well, she did -not mind that much; Ronald would have gentle thoughts -of her, whatever happened; and this need was far too sore -and pressing to permit of timid and sensitive hesitations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One morning she went to her father's room and tapped -at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come in!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was rather pale as she entered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Father,' she said, 'I would like to go to Glasgow for a -while.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her father turned in his chair and regarded her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What's the matter with ye, my girl?' he said. 'You've -not been looking yourself at all for some time back, and -these last few days you've practically eaten nothing. And -yet your mother declares there's nothing the matter. -Glasgow? I dare say a change would do you good—cheer -you up a bit, and that; but—Glasgow? More -schooling, more fees, that would be the chief result, I -imagine; and that's what your mother's driving at. I -think it's nonsense: you're a grown woman; you've -learned everything that will ever be of any use to you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I ought to have, any way, by this time,' Meenie said -simply. 'And indeed it is not for that, father. I—I should -like to go to Glasgow for a while.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There's Lady Stuart would have ye stay with them at -Brighton for a few weeks; but your mother seems to think -you should go amongst them as a kind of Mezzofanti—it's -precious little of that there's about Sir Alexander, as I know -well. However, if you're not to go to them until you are -polished out of all human shape and likeness, I suppose I -must say nothing——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But I would rather go and stay with Agatha, father,' -the girl said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' said he, 'I do think something must be done. -It would be a fine thing for you—you of all creatures in -the world—to sink into a hopeless anæmic condition. -Lassie, where's that eldritch laugh o' yours gone to? And -I see you go dawdling along the road—you that could beat -a young roedeer if you were to try. Glasgow?—well, I'll -see what your mother says.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thank you, father,' she said, but she did not leave at -once. 'I think I heard you say that Mr. Blair was going -south on Monday,' she timidly suggested.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This Mr. Blair was a U.P. minister from Glasgow, who -was taking a well-earned holiday up at Tongue—fishing in -the various lochs in that neighbourhood—and who was -known to the Douglases.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You're in a deuce of a hurry, Miss,' her father said, -but good-naturedly enough. 'You mean you could go to -Glasgow under his escort?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, I will see what your mother says—I suppose she -will be for making a fuss over the necessary preparations.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this promise and half permission had instantly -brought to the girl a kind of frail and wandering joy and -hope; and there was a brief smile on her face as she -said—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, you know, father, if I have to get any things I -ought to get them in Glasgow. The preparations at -Inver-Mudal can't take much time.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will see what your mother thinks about it,' said the -big, good-humoured Doctor, who was cautious about -assenting to anything until the ruler and lawgiver of the -house had been consulted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The time was short, but the chance of sending Meenie -to Glasgow under charge of the Rev. Mr. Blair was -opportune; and Mrs. Douglas had no scruple about making use -of this temporary concern on the part of her husband -about Meenie's health for the working out of her own -ends. Of course the girl was only going away to be -brightened up by a little society. The change of air -might possibly do her good. There could be no doubt -she had been looking ill; and in her sister's house she -would have every attention paid her, quite as much as if -she were in her own home. All the same, Mrs. Douglas -was resolved that this opportunity for finally fitting Meenie -for that sphere in which she hoped to see her move should -not be lost. Agatha should have private instructions. -And Agatha herself was a skilled musician. Moreover, -some little society—of a kind—met at Mr. Gemmill's -house; the time would not be entirely lost, even if a little -economy in the matter of fees was practised, in deference -to the prejudices and dense obtuseness of one who ought -to have seen more clearly his duty in this matter—that is -to say, of Meenie's father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so it was that, when the Monday morning came -round, Meenie had said good-bye to every one she knew, -and was ready to set out for the south. Not that she -was going by the mail. Oh no, Mr. Murray would not -hear of that, nor yet of her being sent in her father's -little trap. No; Mr. Murray placed his own large -waggonette and a pair of horses at her disposal; and when -the mail-cart came along from Tongue, Mr. Blair's luggage -was quickly transferred to the more stately vehicle, and -immediately they started. She did not look like a girl -going away for a holiday. She was pale rather, and silent; -and Mr. Blair, who had memories of her as a bright, -merry, clear-eyed lass, could not understand why she -should be apparently so cast down at the thought of -leaving her father's home for a mere month or so. As for old -John Murray, he went into the inn, grumbling and discontented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is a strange thing,' he said,—for he was grieved and -offended at their sending Meenie away, and he knew that -Inver-Mudal would be a quite different place with her not -there,—'a strange thing indeed to send a young girl away -to Glasgow to get back the roses into her cheeks. Ay, -will she get them there? A strange thing indeed. And -her father a doctor too. It is just a teffle of a piece of -nonsense.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The worthy minister, on the other hand, was quite -delighted to have so pretty a travelling companion with -him on that long journey to the south; and he looked -after her with the most anxious paternal solicitude, and -from time to time he would try to cheer her with the -recital of ancient Highland anecdotes that he had picked -up during his fishing excursions. But he could see that -the girl was preoccupied; her eyes were absent and her -manner distraught; sometimes her colour came and went -in a curious way, as if some sudden fancy had sent a -tremor to her heart. Then, as they drew near to the -great city—it was a pallid-clear morning, with some faint -suggestions of blue overhead that gave the wan landscape -an almost cheerful look—she was obviously suffering from -nervous excitement; her answers to him were inconsequent, -though she tried her bravest to keep up the conversation. -The good man thought he would not bother her. No -doubt it would be a great change—from the quiet of -Inver-Mudal to the roar and bustle of the vast city; and no -doubt the mere sight of hundreds and hundreds of strangers -would in itself be bewildering. Meenie, as he understood, -had been in Glasgow before, but it was some years -ago, and she had not had a long experience of it; in any -case, she would naturally be restless and nervous in -looking forward to such a complete change in her way of -life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they slowed into the station, moreover, he could -not help observing how anxiously and eagerly she kept -glancing from stranger to stranger, as they passed them on -the platform.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There will be somebody waiting for you, Miss Meenie?' -he said at a venture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no,' she answered, somewhat hurriedly and shame-facedly -as he thought—and the good minister was puzzled; -'Agatha wrote that Mr. Gemmill would be at the -warehouse, and—and she would be busy in the house on a -Monday morning, and I was just to take a cab and come -on to Queen's Crescent. Oh! I shall manage all right,' -she added, with some bravado.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet, when they had seen to their luggage, and got -along to the platform outside the station, she seemed too -bewildered to heed what was going on. Mr. Blair called -a cab and got her boxes put on the top; but she was -standing there by herself, looking up and down, and -regarding the windows of the houses opposite in a kind of -furtive and half-frightened way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This is Port Dundas Road?' she said to the minister -(for had not Maggie, in her voluminous communications -about Ronald, described the exact locality of his lodging, -and the appearance of the station from his room?).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hesitated for a second or two longer; and then, -recalling herself with an effort, she thanked the minister -for all his kindness, and bade him good-bye, and got into -the cab. Of course she kept both windows down, so that -she could command a view of both sides of the thoroughfares -as the man drove her away along the Cowcaddens -and the New City Road. But alas! how was she ever to -find Ronald—by accident, as she had hoped—in that -continuous crowd? She had pictured to herself her suddenly -meeting him face to face; and she would read in his eyes -how much he remembered of Inver-Mudal and the olden -days. But among this multitude, how was such a thing -possible? And then it was so necessary that this meeting -should be observed by no third person.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, these anxious doubts and fears were forcibly -driven from her head by her arrival at Queen's Crescent, -and the necessity of meeting the emergencies of the -moment. She had but a half recollection of this secluded -little nook, with its semicircle of plain, neat, well-kept -houses, looking so entirely quiet and respectable; and its -pretty little garden, with its grass-plots, and its flower-plots, -and its trim walks and fountain—all so nice and neat and -trim, and at this minute looking quite cheerful in the pallid -sunshine. And here, awaiting her at the just opened door, -was her sister Agatha—a sonsy, sufficiently good-looking -young matron, who had inherited her buxom proportions -from her father, but had got her Highland eyes, which -were like Meenie's, from her mother. And also there -were a smaller Agatha—a self-important little maiden of -ten—and two younger children; and as the advent of this -pretty young aunt from Sutherlandshire was of great interest -to them, there was a babble of inquiries and answers as -they escorted her into the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And such a surprise to hear you were coming,' her -sister was saying. 'We little expected it—but ye're none -the less welcome—and Walter's just quite set up about it. -Ay, and ye're not looking so well, my father says?—let's see.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took her by the shoulders and wheeled her to the -light. But, of course, the girl was flushed with the -excitement of her arrival, and pleased with the attentions of the -little people, so that for the moment the expression of her -face was bright enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There's not much wrong,' said the sister, 'but I don't -wonder at your being dull in yon dreadful hole. And I -suppose there's no chance of moving now. If my father -had only kept to Edinburgh or Glasgow, and got on like -anybody else, we might all have been together, and among -friends and acquaintances; but it was aye the same—give -him the chance of a place where there was a gun or a -fishing-rod handy, and that was enough. Well, well, -Meenie, we must wake ye up a bit if you've been feeling -dull; and Walter—he's as proud as a peacock that you're -come; I declare it's enough to make any other woman -than myself jealous, the way he shows your portrait to -anybody and everybody that comes to the house; and I had -a hint from him this morning that any bit things ye might -need—mother's letter only came on Saturday—that they -were to be a present from him, and there's nothing stingy -about Wat, though I say it who shouldn't. And you'll -have to share Aggie's bed for a night or two until we have -a room got ready for you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If I had only known that I was going to put you -about, Agatha——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Put us about, you daft lassie!' the elder sister exclaimed. -'Come away, and I'll show you where your things will have -to be stored for the present. And my father says there -are to be no finishing lessons, or anything of that kind, for -a while yet; you're to walk about and amuse yourself; and -we've a family-ticket for the Botanic Gardens—you can -take a book there or some knitting; and then you'll have -to help me in the house, for Walter will be for showing you -off as his Highland sister-in-law, and we'll have plenty of -company.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so the good woman rattled on; and how abundantly -and secretly glad was Meenie that not a word was said of -Ronald Strang! She had felt guilty enough when she -entered the house; she had come on a secret errand that -she dared not disclose; and one or two things in her sister's -letters had convinced her that there were not likely to be -very friendly feelings towards Ronald in this little domestic -circle. But when they had gone over almost every -conceivable topic, and not a single question had been asked -about Ronald, nor any reference even made to him, she -felt immensely relieved. To them, then, he was clearly of -no importance. Probably they had forgotten that she had -once or twice asked if he had called on them. Or perhaps -her sister had taken it for granted that the piece of news -she had sent concerning him would effectually and for ever -crush any interest in him that Meenie may have felt. -Anyhow, his name was not even mentioned; and that was -so far well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But what a strange sensation was this—when in the -afternoon she went out for a stroll with the smaller Agatha—to -feel that at any moment, at the turning of any corner, -she might suddenly encounter Ronald. That ever-moving -crowd had the profoundest interest for her; these rather -grimy streets a continuous and mysterious fascination. Of -course the little Agatha, when they went forth from the -house, was for going up to the West End Park or out by -Billhead to the Botanic Gardens, so that the pretty young -aunt should have a view of the beauties of Glasgow. But -Meenie had no difficulty in explaining that green slopes and -trees and things of that kind had no novelty for her, whereas -crowded streets and shops and the roar of cabs and carriages -had; and so they turned city-wards when they left the house, -and went away in by Cambridge Street and Sauchiehall -Street to Buchanan Street. And was this the way, then, -she asked herself (and she was rather an absent companion -for her little niece), that Ronald would take on leaving his -lodgings to get over to the south side of the city, where, as -she understood from his sister's letters, lived the old forester -who was superintending his studies? But there were so -many people here!—and all seemingly strangers to each -other; scarcely any two or three of them stopping to have -a chat together; and all of them apparently in such a hurry. -Argyll Street was even worse; indeed, she recoiled from -that tumultuous thoroughfare; and the two of them turned -north again. The lamplighter was beginning his rounds; -here and there an orange star gleamed in the pallid -atmosphere; here and there a shop window glowed yellow. -When they got back to Queen's Crescent they found that -Mr. Gemmill had returned; it was his tea-time; and there -was a talk of the theatre for the older folk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, she did not despair yet. For one thing, she had -not been anxious to meet Ronald during that first plunge -into the great city, for Agatha was with her. But that was -merely because the little girl had obtained a holiday in -honour of her aunt's coming; thereafter she went to school -every morning; moreover, the household happened to be a -maidservant short, and Mrs. Gemmill was busy, so that -Meenie was left to do pretty much as she liked, and to go -about alone. And her walks did not take her much to the -Botanic Gardens, nor yet to the West End Park and Kelvin -Grove; far rather she preferred to go errands for her sister, -and often these would take her in by Sauchiehall Street and -the top of Buchanan Street; and always her eyes were anxious -and yet timorous, seeking and yet half-fearing to find. But -where was Ronald? She tried different hours. She grew -to know every possible approach to that lodging in the Port -Dundas Road. And she had schooled herself now so that -she could search long thoroughfares with a glance that was -apparently careless enough; and she had so often pictured -to herself their meeting, that she knew she would not -exhibit too great a surprise nor make too open a confession -of her joy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And at last her patient waiting was rewarded. It was -in Renfield Street that she suddenly caught sight of -him—a long way off he was, but coming towards her, and all -unconscious of her being there. For a moment her schooling -of herself gave way somewhat; for her heart was beating -so wildly as almost to choke her; and she went on with -her eyes fixed on the ground, wondering what she should -say, wondering if he would find her face grown paler than -it used to be, wondering what he would think of her having -sent him the bit of white heather. And then she forced -herself to raise her eyes; and it was at the very same -instant that he caught sight of her—though he was yet -some distance off—and for the briefest moment she saw his -strange and startled look. But what was this? Perhaps -he fancied she had not seen him; perhaps he had reasons -for not wishing to be seen; at all events, after that one -swift recognition of her, he had suddenly slunk away—down -some lane or other—and when she went forward, in -rather a blind and bewildered fashion, behold! there was -no Ronald there at all. She looked around—with a heart -as if turned to stone—but there was no trace of him. And -then she went on, rather proudly—or perhaps, rather, trying -to feel proud and hurt; but there was a gathering mist -coming into her eyes; and she scarcely knew—nor -cared—whither she was walking.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-bolder-step"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A BOLDER STEP.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As for him, he slunk aside hurriedly and all abashed and -dismayed. He did not pause until he was safe away from -any pursuit; and there was a lowering expression on his -face, and his hand shook a little. He could only hope -that she had not seen him. Instantly he had seen her, he -knew that he dared not meet the beautiful clear eyes, that -would regard him, and perhaps mutely ask questions of him, -even if there was no indignant reproach in them. For -during these past few days he had gradually been becoming -conscious of the squalor and degradation into which he had -sunk; and sometimes he would strive to raise himself out -of that; and sometimes he would sink back despairing, -careless of what might become of him or his poor affairs. But -always there was there in his room that mystic white token -that Meenie had sent him; and at least it kept him -thinking—his conscience was not allowed to slumber; and -sometimes it became so strong an appeal to him—that is -to say, he read into the message such wild and daring and -fantastic possibilities—that he would once more resume -that terrible struggle with the iron bands of habit that -bound him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What is the matter wi' Ronald?' Kate Menzies asked -of her cronies. 'He hasna been near the house these three -or four days.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'm thinking he's trying to earn the Blue Ribbon,' said -old Mr. Jaap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And no thriving weel on't, poor lad,' said Jimmy -Laidlaw. 'Down in the mouth's no the word. He's just like -the ghost o' himsel'.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I tell ye what, Mistress,' said the big skipper, who was -contemplating with much satisfaction a large beaker of hot -rum and water, 'the best thing you could do would be just -to take the lad in hand, and marry him right off. He -would have somebody to look after him, and so would you; -as handsome a couple as ever stepped along Jamaica Street, -I'll take my oath.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The buxom widow laughed and blushed; but she was -bound to protest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Na, na, Captain, I ken better than that. I'm no -going to throw away a business like this on any man. I'll -bide my ain mistress for a while longer, if ye please.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then mother Paterson—who had a handy gift of -facile acquiescence—struck in—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That's right, Katie dear! Ye're sich a wise woman. -To think ye'd throw away a splendid place like this, and a -splendid business, on any man, and make him maister! And -how long would it be before he ate and drank ye out o' house -and ha'?—set him up with a handsome wife and a splendid -business thrown at his heed, and scarcely for the asking! -Na, na, Katie, woman, ye ken your own affairs better than -that; ye're no for any one to come in and be maister here.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But I'm concerned about the lad,' said Kate Menzies, -a little absently. 'He met wi' none but friends here. He -might fa' into worse hands.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Gang up yersel', Mistress, and hae a talk wi' him,' said -the skipper boldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kate Menzies did not do that; but the same evening -she wrote Ronald a brief note. And very well she could -write too—in a dashing, free handwriting; and gilt-edged -was the paper, and rose-pink was the envelope.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'DEAR RONALD—Surely there is no quarrel between us. -If I have offended you, come and tell me; don't go away -and sulk. If I have done or said anything to offend you, -I will ask your pardon. Can I do anything more than -that? Your cousin and friend,</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>'KATE MENZIES.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Of course he had to answer such an appeal in person: -he went down the next morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Quarrel, woman? What put that into your head? If -there had been anything of that kind, I would have told -you fast enough; I'm not one of the sulking kind.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, I'm very glad to ken we're just as good friends -as before,' said Kate, regarding him, 'but I'm not glad to -see the way ye're looking, Ronald, my lad. Ye're not -yourself at all, my man—what's got ye whitey-faced, limp, -shaky-looking like that? See here.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went to the sideboard, and the next instant there -was on the table a bottle of champagne, with a couple of -glasses, and a flask of angostura bitters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no, Katie, lass, I will not touch a drop,' said he: -and he rose and took his cap in his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You will not?' she said. 'You will not? Why, man, -you're ill—you're ill, I tell ye. It's medicine!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gripped her by the hand, and took the bottle from -her, and put it down on the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If I'm ill, I deserve to be, and that's the fact, lass. -Let be—let be, woman; I'm obliged to ye—some other -time—some other time.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then if you winna, I will,' she said, and she got hold -of the bottle and opened it and poured out a glass of the -foaming fluid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And dinna I ken better what's good for ye than ye do -yersel'?' said she boldly. 'Ay, if ye were ruled by me, -and drank nothing but what ye get in this house, there -would be little need for ye to be frightened at what a -wean might drink. Ye dinna ken your best friends, my lad.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I know you wish me weel, Katie, lass,' said he, for he -did not wish to appear ungrateful, 'but I'm better without it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' said she tauntingly. 'Ye're better without -sitting up a' night wi' a lot o' roystering fellows, smoking -bad tobacco and drinking bad whisky. What mak's your -face sae white? It's fusel-oil, if ye maun ken. Here, -Ronald, what canna hurt a woman canna hurt a man o' -your build—try it, and see if ye dinna feel better.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put a good dash of bitters into the glass, and poured -out the champagne, and offered it to him. He did not -wish to offend her; and he himself did not believe the -thing could hurt him; he took the glass and sipped about -a teaspoonful, and then set it down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kate Menzies looked at him, and laughed aloud, and -took him by the shoulders and pushed him back into his -chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There's a man for ye! Whatna young ladies' seminary -have ye been brought up at?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll tell ye, lass,' he retorted. 'It was one where they -taught folk no to force other folk to drink against their will.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then it was different frae the one where I was brought -up, for there, when the doctor ordered anybody to take -medicine, they were made to take it. And here's yours,' -she said; and she stood before him with the glass in her -hand. She was good-natured; it would have been ungracious -to refuse; he took the glass from her and drank -off the contents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now a glass of champagne, even with the addition of a -little angostura bitters, cannot be called a very powerful -potion to those accustomed to such things; but the fact -was that he had not touched a drop of any alcoholic fluid -for two days; and this seemed to go straight to the brain. -It produced a slight, rather agreeable giddiness; a sense of -comfort was diffused throughout the system; he was not -so anxious to get away. And Kate began talking—upbraiding -him for thinking that she wanted to see him -otherwise than well and in his usual health, and declaring -that if he were guided by her, there would be no need for -him to torture himself with total abstinence, and to reduce -himself to this abject state. The counsel (which was meant -in all honesty) fell on yielding ears; Kate brought some -biscuits, and filled herself out another glass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That's what it is,' she said boldly, 'if you would be -ruled by my advice there would be no shaking hands and -white cheeks for ye. Feeling better, are ye?—ay, I warrant -ye! Here, man, try this.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She filled his glass again, adding a good dose of bitters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This one I will, but not a drop more,' said he. 'Ye're -a desperate creature, lass, for making folk comfortable.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I ken what's the matter wi' you better than ye ken -yoursel', Ronald,' said she, looking at him shrewdly. 'You're -disappointed—you're out o' heart—because thae fine -American friends o' yours hae forgotten you; and you've -got sick o' this new work o' yours; and you've got among -a lot o' wild fellows that are leading ye to the devil. Mark -my words. Americans! Better let a man trust to his ain -kith and kin.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, Katie, lass, I maun say this, that ye've just been -ower kind to me since ever I came to Glasgow.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Another glass, Ronald——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not one drop—thank ye'—and this time he rose with -the definite resolve to get away, for even these two glasses -had caused a swimming in his head, and he knew not how -much more he might drink if he stayed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Better go for a long walk, then,' said Kate, 'and come -back at three and have dinner with us. I'll soon put ye -on your legs again—trust to me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when he went out into the open air, he found -himself so giddy and half-dazed and bewildered that, instead -of going away for any long walk, he thought he would go -back home and lie down. He felt less happy now. Why -had he taken this accursed thing after all his resolves?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then it was—as he went up Renfield Street—that -he caught his first glimpse of Meenie. No wonder he -turned and slunk rapidly away—anxious to hide -anywhere—hoping that Meenie had not seen him. And what a -strange thing was this—Meenie in Glasgow town! Oh, if -he could only be for a single day as once he had been—as -she had known him in the happy times when life went by -like a laugh and a song—how wonderful it would be to go -along these thoroughfares hoping every moment to catch -sight of her face! A dull town?—no, a radiant town, with -music in the air, and joy and hope shining down from the -skies! But now—he was a cowering fugitive—sick in -body and sick in mind—trembling with the excitement of -this sudden meeting—and anxious above all other things -that he should get back to the seclusion of his lodging -unseen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, he managed that, at all events; and there he -sate down, wondering over this thing that had just happened. -Meenie in Glasgow town!—and why? And why had she -sent him the white heather? Nay, he could not doubt but -that she had heard; and that this was at once a message of -reproach and an appeal; and what answer had he to give -supposing that some day or other he should meet her face -to face? How could he win back to his former state, so -that he should not be ashamed to meet those clear, kind -eyes? If there were but some penance now—no matter -what suffering it entailed—that would obliterate these last -months and restore him to himself, how gladly would he -welcome that! But it was not only the bodily sickness—he -believed he could mend that; he had still a fine physique; -and surely absolute abstention from stimulants, no -matter with what accompanying depression, would in time -give him back his health—it was mental sickness and -hopelessness and remorse that had to be cured; and how -was that to be attempted? Or why should he attempt it? -What care had he for the future? To be sure, he would -stop drinking, definitely; and he would withdraw himself -from those wild companions; and he would have a greater -regard for his appearance; so that, if he should by chance -meet Meenie face to face, he would not have to be -altogether so ashamed. But after? When she had gone -away again? For of course he assumed that she was -merely here on a visit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And all this time he was becoming more and more -conscious of how far he had fallen—of the change that had -come over himself and his circumstances in these few -months; and a curious fancy got into his head that he -would like to try to realise what he had been like in those -former days. He got out his blotting-pad of fragments—not -those dedicated to Meenie, that had been carefully put -aside—and about the very first of them that he chanced to -light upon, when he looked down the rough lines, made -him exclaim—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God bless me, was I like </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>—and no longer ago than -last January?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The piece was called 'A Winter Song'; and surely the -man who could write in this gay fashion had an abundant -life and joy and hope in his veins, and courage to face the -worst bleakness of the winter, and a glad looking-forward to -the coming of the spring?</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Keen blows the wind upon Clebrig's side,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And the snow lies thick on the heather;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And the shivering hinds are glad to hide</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Away from the winter weather.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Chorus: But soon the birds will begin to sing,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And we will sing too, my dear,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">To give good welcoming to the spring</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In the primrose time o' the year!</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Hark how the black lake, torn and tost,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Thunders along its shores;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And the burn is hard in the grip of the frost,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And white, snow-white are the moors.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Chorus: But soon the birds will begin to sing, etc.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">O then the warm west winds will blow,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And all in the sunny weather,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">It's over the moorlands we will go,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">You and I, my love, together.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Chorus: And then the birds will begin to sing,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And we will sing too, my dear,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">To give good welcoming to the spring,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In the primrose-time o' the year!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Why, surely the blood must have been dancing in his brain -when he wrote that and the days white and clear around -him; and life merry and hopeful enough. And now? -Well, it was no gladdening thing to think of: he listlessly -put away the book.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then he rose and went and got a pail of water and -thrust his head into that—for he was glad to feel that this -muzzy sensation was going; and thereafter he dried and -brushed his hair with a little more care than usual; and -put on a clean collar. Nay, he began to set the little room -to rights—and his life in Highland lodges had taught him -how to do that about as well as any woman could; and he -tried to brighten the window panes a little, to make the -place look more cheerful; and he arranged the things on -the mantel-shelf in better order—with the bit of white -heather in the middle. Then he came to his briar-root pipe; -and paused. He took it up, hesitating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, my friend, you must go too,' he said, with firm -lips; and he deliberately broke it, and tossed the fragments -into the grate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then he remembered that it was nearly three -o'clock, and as he feared that Kate Menzies might send -some one of her friends to fetch him, or even come for him -herself, he put on his cap, and took a stick in his hand, -and went out. In half an hour or so he had left the city -behind him and was lost in that melancholy half-country -that lies around it on the north; but he cared little now -how the landscape looked; he was wondering what had -brought Meenie to Glasgow town, and whether she had -seen him, and what she had heard of him. And at Inver-Mudal -too? Well, they might think the worst of him there -if they chose. But had Meenie heard?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He scarcely knew how far he went; but in the dusk of -the evening he was again approaching the city by the Great -Western Road; and as he came nearer to the houses, he -found that the lamps were lit, and the great town settling -down into the gloom of the night. Now he feared no -detection; and so it was that when he arrived at Melrose -Street he paused there. Should he venture into Queen's -Crescent?—it was but a stone's throw away. For he -guessed that Meenie must be staying with her sister; and -he knew the address that she had given him, though he -had never called; nay, he had had the curiosity, once or -twice in passing, to glance at the house; and easily enough -he could now make it out if he chose. He hesitated for a -second or two; then he stealthily made his way along the -little thoroughfare; and entered the crescent—but keeping -to the opposite side from Mrs. Gemmill's dwelling—and -there quietly walked up and down. He could see the -windows well enough; they were all of them lit; and the -house seemed warm and comfortable; Meenie would be at -home there, and among friends, and her bright laugh would -be heard from room to room. Perhaps they had company -too—since all the windows were ablaze; rich folk, no doubt, -for the Gemmills were themselves well-to-do people; and -Meenie would be made much of by these strangers, and -they would come round her, and the beautiful Highland -eyes would be turned towards them, and they would hear -her speak in her quiet, gentle, quaint way. Nor was there -any trace of envy or jealousy in this man's composition—outcast -as he now deemed himself. Jealousy of Meenie?—why, -he wished the bountiful heavens to pour their -choicest blessings upon her, and the winds to be for ever -soft around her, and all sweet and gracious things to await -her throughout her girlhood and her womanhood and her -old age. No; it did not trouble him that these rich folk -were fortunate enough to be with her, to listen to her, to -look at the clear, frank eyes; it might have troubled him -had he thought that they might not fully understand the -generous rose-sweetness of her nature, nor fully appreciate -her straightforward, unconscious simplicity, nor be -sufficiently kind to her. And it was scarcely necessary to -consider that; of course they all of them would be kind to -her, for how could they help it?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But his guess that they might be entertaining friends -was wrong. By and by a cab drove up; in a few minutes -the door was opened; he ventured to draw a little nearer; -and then he saw three figures—one of them almost -assuredly Meenie—come out and enter the vehicle. They -drove off; no doubt they were going to some concert or -theatre, he thought; and he was glad that Meenie was being -amused and entertained so; and was among friends. And -as for himself?—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' he was inwardly saying, as he resumed his walk -homeward, 'the dreams that look so fine when one is up -among the hills are knocked on the head sure enough when -one comes to a town. I'll have no more to do with these -books; nor with the widow Menzies and her friends either. -To-morrow morning I'm off to the recruiting-sergeant—that's -the best thing for me now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By the time he had got home he was quite resolved upon -this. But there was a note lying there on the table for him. -'That woman again,' he said to himself. 'Katie, lass, -I'm afraid you and I must part, but I hope we'll part good -friends.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then his eyes grew suddenly startled. He took up -the note, staring at the outside, apparently half afraid. -And then he opened it and read—but in a kind of wild -and breathless bewilderment—these two or three lines, -written in rather a shaky hand—</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'DEAR RONALD—I wish to see you. Would it trouble -you to be at the corner of Sauchiehall Street and Renfield -Street to-morrow morning at eleven?—I will not detain you -more than a few minutes. Yours sincerely,</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>'MEENIE DOUGLAS.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There was not much sleep for him that night.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-meeting"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A MEETING.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Indeed there was no sleep at all for him that night. He -knew not what this summons might mean; and all the -assurance and self-confidence of former days was gone now; -he was nervous, distracted, easily alarmed; ready to imagine -evil things; and conscious that he was in no fit state to -present himself before Meenie. And yet he never thought -of slinking away. Meenie desired to see him, and that -was enough. Always and ever he had been submissive to -her slightest wish. And if it were merely to reproach him, -to taunt him with his weakness and folly, that she had -now sent for him, he would go all the same. He deserved -that and more. If only it had been some one else—not -Meenie—whose resolute clear eyes he had to meet!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That brief interview over—and then for the Queen's -shilling: this was what was before him now, and the way -seemed clear enough. But so unnerved was he that the -mere idea of having to face this timid girl made him more -and more restless and anxious; and at last, towards three -o'clock in the morning, he, not having been to bed at all, -opened the door and stole down the stair and went out -into the night. The black heavens were pulsating from -time to time with a lurid red sent over from the ironworks -in the south; somewhere there was the footfall of a -policeman unseen; the rest was darkness and a terrible -silence. He wandered away through the lonely streets, he -scarcely knew whither. He was longing that the morning -should come, and yet dreading its approach. He reached -the little thoroughfare that leads into Queen's Crescent: -but he held on his way without turning aside; it was not -for this poor trembling ghost and coward to pass under -her window, with 'Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in -thy breast' as his unspoken benediction. He held on his -way towards the open country, wandering quite aimlessly, -and busy only with guesses and forebodings and hopeless -desires that he might suddenly find before him the -dark-rolling waters of Lethe, and plunge into them, and wash -away from him all knowledge and recollection of the past. -When at length he turned towards the city, the gray dawn -was breaking in the dismal skies; the first of the milk-carts -came slowly crawling into the town; and large waggons -laden with vegetables and the like. He got back to his -lodgings; threw himself on the bed; and there had an -hour or two of broken and restless sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he awoke he went quickly to the window. The -skies were heavy; there was a dull drizzle in the thick -atmosphere; the pavements were wet. It was with a -sudden sense of relief that he saw what kind of a day it was. -Of course Meenie would never think of coming out on so -wet and miserable a morning. He would keep the -appointment, doubtless; she would not appear—taking it for -granted he would not expect her; and then—then for the -recruiting-sergeant and a final settlement of all these ills -and shames. Nevertheless he dressed himself with scrupulous -neatness; and brushed and rebrushed his clothes; -and put on his deerstalker's cap—for the sake of old days. -And then, just as he was leaving, he took a little bit of -the white heather, and placed it in his waistcoat pocket; -if the talisman had any subtle power whatever, all the good -luck that he could wish for was to find Meenie not too -bitter in her scorn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made his way to the corner of Sauchiehall Street -some little time before the appointed hour. But it was -actually raining now; of course Meenie would not come. -So he idly paced up and down; staring absently at the -shop windows; occasionally looking along the street, but -with no great expectation; and thinking how well content -and satisfied with themselves these people seemed to be -who were now hurrying by under their streaming umbrellas. -His thoughts went far afield. Vimiera—Salamanca—Ciudad -Rodrigo—Balaklava—Alma—Lucknow—Alumbagh—these -were the names and memories that were in his head. -An old school companion of his own had got the V.C. for -a conspicuous act of daring at the storming of the Redan, -and if that were not likely to be his proud fate, at least -in this step he was resolved upon he would find safety and -a severance from degrading bonds, and a final renunciation -of futile ambitions and foolish and idle dreams.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was looking into a bookseller's window. A timid -hand touched his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And oh! the sudden wonder and the thrill of finding -before him those beautiful, friendly, glad eyes, so true, so -frank, so full of all womanly tenderness and solicitude, -and abundant and obvious kindness! Where was the -reproach of them? They were full of a kind of half-hidden -joy—timid and reluctant, perhaps, a little—but -honest and clear and unmistakable; and as for him—well, -his breath was clean taken away by the surprise, and by the -sudden revulsion of feeling from a listless despair to the -consciousness that Meenie was still his friend; and all he -could do was to take the gentle hand in both of his and -hold it fast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I—I heard that you were not—not very well, Ronald,' -she managed to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then the sound of her voice—that brought with it -associations of years—seemed to break the spell that was -on him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bless me, Miss Douglas,' he said, 'you will get quite -wet! Will you not put up your umbrella—or—or take -shelter somewhere?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, I do not mind the rain,' she said, and there was a -kind of tremulous laugh about her lips, as if she were -trying to appear very happy indeed. 'I do not mind the -rain. We did not heed the rain much at Inver-Mudal, -Ronald, when there was anything to be done. And—and -so glad I am to see you! It seems so long a time since -you left the Highlands.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay; and it has been a bad time for me,' he said; and -now he was beginning to get his wits together again. He -could not keep Miss Douglas thus standing in the wet. -He would ask her why she had sent for him; and then -he would bid her good-bye and be off; but with a glad, -glad heart that he had seen her even for these few seconds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And there are so many things to be talked over after -so long a time,' said she; 'I hope you have a little while -to spare, Ronald——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But to keep you in the rain, Miss Douglas——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, but this will do,' said she (and whatever her inward -thoughts were, her speech was blithe enough). 'See, I -will put up the umbrella, and you will carry it for me—it is -not the first time, Ronald, that you and I have had to walk -in the rain together, and without any umbrella. And do -you know why I do not care for the rain?' she added, -glancing at him again with the frank, affectionate eyes; -'it's because I am so glad to find you looking not so ill -after all, Ronald.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not so ill, maybe, as I deserve to be,' he answered; -but he took the umbrella and held it over her; and they -went down Renfield Street a little way and then into West -Regent Street; and if she did not put her hand on his arm, -at least she was very close to him, and the thrill of the touch -of her dress was magnetic and strange. Strange, indeed; -and strange that he should find himself walking side by side -with Meenie through the streets of Glasgow town; and -listening mutely and humbly the while to all her varied talk -of what had happened since he left Inver-Mudal. Whatever -she had heard of him, it seemed to be her wish to -ignore that. She appeared to assume that their relations to -each other now were just as they had been in former days. -And she was quite bright and cheerful and hopeful; how -could he know that the first glance at his haggard face had -struck like a dagger to her heart?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Moreover, the rain gradually ceased; the umbrella was -lowered; a light west wind was quietly stirring; and by -and by a warmer light began to interfuse itself through the -vaporous atmosphere. Nay, by the time they had reached -Blythswood Square, a pallid sunshine was clearly shining -on the wet pavements and door-steps and house-fronts; and -far overhead, and dimly seen through the mysteriously -moving pall of mist and smoke, there were faint touches of -blue, foretelling the opening out to a joyfuller day. The -wide square was almost deserted; they could talk to each -other as they chose; though, indeed, the talking was mostly -on her side. Something, he scarcely knew what, kept him -silent and submissive; but his heart was full of gratitude -towards her; and from time to time—for how could he -help it?—some chance word or phrase of appeal would -bring him face to face with Meenie's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So far she had cunningly managed to avoid all reference -to his own affairs, so that he might get accustomed to this -friendly conversation; but at length she said—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And now about yourself, Ronald?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The less said the better,' he answered. 'I wish that -I had never come to this town.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What?' she said, with a touch of remonstrance in her -look. 'Have you so soon forgotten the fine prospects you -started away with? Surely not! Why, it was only the -other day I had a letter from Miss Hodson—the young -American lady, you remember—and she was asking all -about you, and whether you had passed the examination -yet; and she said her father and herself were likely to -come over next spring, and hoped to hear you had got the -certificate.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He seemed to pay no heed to this news.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I wish I had never left Inver-Mudal,' he said. 'I was -content there; and what more can a man wish for anywhere? -It's little enough of that I've had since I came to this town. -But for whatever has happened to me, I've got myself to -blame; and—and I beg your pardon, Miss Douglas, I will -not bother you with any poor concerns of mine——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But if I wish to be bothered?' she said quickly. 'Ronald, -do you know why I have come from the Highlands?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her face was blushing a rosy red; but her eyes were -steadfast and clear and kind; and she had stopped in her -walk to confront him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I heard the news of you—yes, I heard the news,' she -continued; and it was his eyes, not hers, that were -downcast; 'and I knew you would do much for me—at least, I -thought so,—and I said to myself that if I were to go to -Glasgow, and find you, and ask you for my sake to give -me a promise——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I know what ye would say, Miss Douglas,' he interposed, -for she was dreadfully embarrassed. 'To give up -the drink. Well, it's easily promised and easily done, -now—indeed, I've scarce touched a drop since ever I got the -bit of heather you sent me. It was a kind thing to think -of—maybe I'm making too bold to think it was you that sent -it——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I knew you would know that it was I that sent it—I -meant you to know,' she said simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was never any great love of the drink that drove me -that way,' he said. 'I think it was that I might be able to -forget for a while.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To forget what, Ronald?' she asked, regarding him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That ever I was such a fool as to leave the only people -I cared for,' he answered frankly, 'and come away here -among strangers, and bind myself to strive for what I had no -interest in. But bless me, Miss Douglas, to think I should -keep ye standing here—talking about my poor affairs——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald,' she said calmly, 'do you know that I have -come all the way to Glasgow to see you and to talk -about your affairs and nothing else; and you are not going -to hurry away? Tell me about yourself. What are you -doing? Are you getting on with your studies?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no. I have lost heart that way altogether. Many's -the time I have thought of writing to Lord Ailine, and -asking to be taken back, if it was only to look after the dogs. -I should never have come to this town; and now I am -going away from it, for good.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Going away? Where?' she said, rather breathlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I want to make a clean break off from the kind of life -I have been leading,' said he, 'and I know the surest way. -I mean to enlist into one of the Highland regiments that's -most likely to be ordered off on foreign service.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She seized his hand and held it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald, you will not do that!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, he was startled by the sudden pallor of her face; -and bewildered by the entreaty so plainly visible in the -beautiful eyes; and perhaps he did not quite know how he -answered. But he spoke quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, of course I will not do that,' he said, 'of course I -will not do that, Miss Douglas, so long as you are in -Glasgow. How could I? Why, the chance of seeing you, -even at a distance—for a moment even—I would wait days -for that. When I made up my mind to enlist, I had no -thought that I might ever have the chance of seeing you. -Oh no; I will wait until you have gone back to the -Highlands—how could I go away from Glasgow and miss any -single chance of seeing you, if only for a moment?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, yes,' she said eagerly, 'you will do nothing until -then, anyway; and in the meantime I shall see you -often——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His face lighted up with surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Will you be so kind as that?' he said quickly. And -then he dropped her hand. 'No, no. I am so bewildered -by the gladness of seeing you that—that I forgot. Let me -go my own way. You were always so generous in your -good nature that you spoiled us all at Inver-Mudal; -here—here it is different. You are living with your sister, I -suppose? and of course you have many friends, and many -things to do and places to visit. You must not trouble -about me; but as long as you are in Glasgow—well, there -will always be the chance of my catching a glimpse of -you—and if you knew what it was—to me——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But here he paused abruptly, fearful of offending by -confessing too much; and now they had resumed their -leisurely walking along the half-dried pavements; and -Meenie was revolving certain little schemes and artifices in -her brain—with a view to their future meeting. And the -morning had grown so much brighter; and there was a -pleasant warmth of sunlight in the air; and she was glad -to know that at least for a time Ronald would not be -leaving the country. She turned to him with a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I shall have to be going back home now,' she said, -'but you will not forget, Ronald, that you have made me -two promises this morning.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's little you know, Miss Douglas,' said he, 'what I -would do for you, if I but knew what ye wished. I mean -for you yourself. For my own self, I care but little what -happens to me. I have made a mistake in my life -somehow. I——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then will you promise me more, Ronald?' said she -quickly; for she would not have him talk in that strain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Will you make me a promise that you will not enlist at all?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will, if it is worth heeding one way or the other.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But make me the promise,' said she, and she regarded -him with no unfriendly eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There's my hand on't.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And another—that you will work hard and try and -get the forestry certificate?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What's the use of that, lass?' said he, forgetting his -respect for her. 'I have put all that away now. That's -all away beyond me now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' she said proudly. 'No. It is not. Oh, do you -think that the people who know you do not know what -your ability is? Do you think they have lost their faith -in you? Do you think they are not still looking forward -and hoping the time may come that they may be proud of -your success, and—and—come and shake hands with you, -Ronald—and say how glad they are? And have you no -regard for them, or heed for their—their affection towards -you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her cheeks were burning red, but she was far too much -in earnest to measure her phrases; and she held his hand in -an imploring kind of way; and surely, if ever a brave and -unselfish devotion and love looked out from a woman's eyes, -that was the message that Meenie's eyes had for him then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I had a kind of fancy,' he said, 'that if I could get -abroad—with one o' those Highland regiments—there -might come a time when I could have the chance of -winning the V.C.—the Victoria Cross, I mean; ay, and it -would have been a proud day for me the day that I was -able to send that home to you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To me, Ronald?' she said, rather faintly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, yes,'said he. 'Whatever happened to me after -that day would not matter much.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But you have promised——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And I will keep that promise, and any others you may -ask of me, Miss Douglas.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That you will call me Meenie, for one?' she said, quite -simply and frankly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no; I could not do that,' he answered—and yet -the permission sounded pleasant to the ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We are old friends, Ronald,' she said. 'But that is a -small matter. Well, now, I must be getting back home; -and yet I should like to see you again soon, Ronald, for -there are so many things I have to talk over with you. -Will you come and see my sister?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His hesitation and embarrassment were so obvious that -she instantly repented her of having thrown out this invitation; -moreover, it occurred to herself that there would be -little chance of her having any private speech of Ronald -(which was of such paramount importance at this moment) -if he called at Queen's Crescent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, not yet,' she said, rather shamefacedly and with -downcast eyes; 'perhaps, since—since there are one or two -private matters to talk over, we—we could meet just as now? -It is not—taking up too much of your time, Ronald?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why,' said he, 'if I could see you for a moment, any -day—merely to say "good morning"—that would be a -well-spent day for me; no more than that used to make -many a long day quite happy for me at Inver-Mudal.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Could you be here to-morrow at eleven, Ronald?' she -asked, looking up shyly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, yes, and gladly!' he answered; and presently they -had said good-bye to each other; and she had set out for -Queen's Crescent by herself; while he turned towards the east.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now all his being seemed transfused with joy and -deep gratitude; and the day around him was clear and -sweet and full of light; and all the world seemed swinging -onward in an ether of happiness and hope. The dreaded -interview!—where was the reproach and scorn of it? -Instead of that it had been all radiant with trust and -courage and true affection; and never had Meenie's eyes -been so beautiful and solicitous with all good wishes; never -had her voice been so strangely tender, every tone of it -seeming to reach the very core of his heart. And how was -he to requite her for this bountiful care and sympathy—that -overawed him almost when he came to think of it? -Nay, repayment of any kind was all impossible: where was -the equivalent of such generous regard? But at least he -could faithfully observe the promises he had made—yes, -these and a hundred more; and perhaps this broken life of -his might still be of some small service, if in any way it -could win for him a word of Meenie's approval.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, the better to get away from temptation, and -to cut himself wholly adrift from his late companions, he -walked home to his lodgings and packed up his few things -and paid his landlady a fortnight's rent in lieu of notice, -as had been agreed upon. That same night he was -established in new quarters, in the Garscube Road; and he had -left no address behind him; so that if Kate Menzies, or -the skipper, or any of his cronies of the Harmony Club -were to wonder at his absence and seek to hunt him out, -they would seek and hunt in vain.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="confession"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">CONFESSION.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>That night he slept long and soundly, and his dreams were -all about Inver-Mudal and the quiet life among the hills; -and, strangely enough, he fancied himself there, and Meenie -absent; and always he was wondering when she was coming -back from Glasgow town, and always he kept looking for -her as each successive mail-cart came through from the -south. And then in the morning, when he awoke, and -found himself in the great city itself, and knew that Meenie -was there too, and that in a few hours they were to meet, -his heart was filled with joy, and the day seemed rich and -full of promise, and the pale and sickly sunlight that struggled -in through the window panes and lit up the dusty little room -seemed a glorious thing, bringing with it all glad tidings. -'You, fortunate Glasgow town!' he had rhymed in the -olden days; and this was the welcome that Glasgow town -had for Meenie—sunlight, and perhaps a glimpse of blue -here and there, and a light west wind blowing in from the -heights of Dowanhill and Hillhead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dressed with particular care; and if his garments were -not of the newest fashionable cut, at least they clung with -sufficient grace and simplicity of outline to the manly and -well-set figure. And he knew himself that he was looking less -haggard than on the previous day. He was feeling altogether -better; the long and sound sleep had proved a powerful -restorative; and his heart was light with hope. The happy -sunlight shining out there on the gray pavements and the -gray fronts of the houses!—was there ever in all the world -a fairer and joyfuller city than this same Glasgow town?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was in Blythswood Square long before the appointed -hour; and she also was a little early. But this, time it was -Meenie who was shy and embarrassed; she was not so -earnest and anxious as she had been the day before, for -much of her errand was now satisfactorily accomplished; -and when, after a moment's hesitation, he asked her whether -she would not go and have a look at the terraces and trees -in the West End Park, it seemed so like two lovers setting -out for a walk together that the conscious blood mantled in -her cheeks, and her eyes were averted. But she strove to -be very business-like; and asked him a number of questions -about Mr. Weems; and wondered that the Americans had -said nothing further about the purchase of an estate in the -Highlands, of which there had been some little talk. In -this way—and with chance remarks and inquiries about -Maggie, and the Reverend Andrew, and Mr. Murray, and -Harry the terrier, and what not—they made their way -through various thoroughfares until they reached the tall -gates of the West End Park.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here there was much more quietude than in those noisy -streets; and when they had walked along one of the wide -terraces, until they came to a seat partly surrounded by -shrubs, Meenie suggested that they might sit down there, -for she wished to reason seriously with him. He smiled a -little; but he was very plastic in her hands. Nay, was it -not enough merely to hear Meenie speak—no matter what -the subject might be? And then he was sitting by her side, -with all that wide prospect stretched out before them—the -spacious terraces, the groups of trees, the curving river, and -the undulating hills beyond. It was a weird kind of a -morning, moreover; for the confused and wan sunlight -kept struggling through the ever-changing mist, sometimes -throwing a coppery radiance on the late autumn foliage, or -again shining pale and silver-like as the fantastic -cloud-wreaths slowly floated onward. The view before them was -mysterious and vast because of its very vagueness; and -even the new University buildings—over there on the -heights above the river—looked quite imposing and -picturesque, for they loomed large and dusky and remote -through the bewildering sunlit haze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, Ronald,' she said, 'I want you to tell me how it -was you came to lose heart so, and to give up what you -undertook to do when you left Inver-Mudal. Why, when -you left you were full of such high hopes; and every one -was sure of your success; and you were all anxiety to begin.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That's true, Miss Douglas,' he answered, rather absently. -'I think my head must have been in a kind of a whirl at -that time. It seemed so fine and easy a thing to strive for; -and I did not stop to ask what use it would be to me, -supposing I got it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The use?' she said. 'A better position for yourself—isn't -it natural to strive for that? And perhaps, if you did -not care much to have more money for yourself—for you -have very strange notions, Ronald, about some things—you -must see how much kindness can be done to others -by people who are well off. I don't understand you at all——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, then,' said he, shifting his ground, 'I grew sick -and tired of the town life. I was never meant for that. -Every day——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But, Ronald,' she said, interrupting him in a very -definite tone of remonstrance, 'you knew that your town -life was only a matter of months! And the harder you -worked the sooner it would be over! What reason was that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There may have been other reasons,' he said, but -rather unwillingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What were they?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I cannot tell you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald,' she said, and the touch of wounded pride in -her voice thrilled him strangely, 'I have come all the way -from the Highlands—and—and done what few girls would -have done—for your sake; and yet you will not be frank -with me—when all that I want is to see you going straight -towards a happier future.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I dare not tell you, you would be angry.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am not given to anger,' she answered, calmly, and yet -with a little surprised resentment. For she could but -imagine that this was some entanglement of debt, or -something of the kind, of which he was ashamed to -speak; and yet, unless she knew clearly the reasons that -had induced him to abandon the project that he had -undertaken so eagerly, how was she to argue with him and urge -him to resume it?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, then, we'll put it this way,' said he, after a second -or two of hesitation—and his face was a little pale, and his -eyes were fixed on her with an anxious nervousness, so that, -at the first sign of displeasure, he could instantly stop. -'There was a young lass that I knew there—in the -Highlands—and she was, oh yes, she was out of my station -altogether, and away from me—and yet the seeing her from -time to time, and a word now and again, was a pleasure to -me, greater maybe than I confessed to myself—the greatest -that I had in life, indeed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She made no sign, and he continued, slowly and -watchfully, and still with that pale earnestness in his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And then I wrote things about her—and amused myself -with fancies—well, what harm could that do to her?—so -long as she knew nothing about it. And I thought I -was doing no harm to myself either, for I knew it was -impossible there could be anything between us, and that she -would be going away sooner or later, and I too. Yes, and -I did go away, and in high feather, to be sure, and -everything was to be for the best, and I was to have a fight for -money like the rest of them. God help me, lassie, before I -was a fortnight in the town, my heart was like to break.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sate quite still and silent, trembling a little, perhaps, -her eyes downcast, her fingers working nervously with the -edge of the small shawl she wore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I had cut myself away from the only thing I craved for -in the world—just the seeing and speaking to her from time -to time, for I had no right to think of more than that; and -I was alone and down-hearted; and I began to ask myself -what was the use of this slavery. Ay, there might have -been a use in it—if I could have said to myself, "Well, -now, fight as hard as ye can, and if ye win, who knows but -that ye might go back to the north, and claim her as the -prize?" But that was not to be thought of. She had -never hinted anything of the kind to me, nor I to her; but -when I found myself cut away from her like that, the days -were terrible, and my heart was like lead, and I knew that -I had cast away just everything that I cared to live for. -Then I fell in with some companions—a woman cousin o' -mine and some friends of hers—and they helped to make -me forget what I didna wish to think of, and so the time -passed. Well, now, that is the truth; and ye can -understand, Miss Douglas, that I have no heart to begin again, -and the soldiering seemed the best thing for me, and a -rifle-bullet my best friend. But—but I will keep the promise -I made to ye—that is enough on that score; oh yes, I -will keep that promise, and any others ye may care to ask; -only I cannot bide in Glasgow.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He heard a faint sob; he could see that tears were -gliding stealthily down her half-hidden face; and his heart -was hot with anger against himself that he had caused her -this pain. But how could he go away? A timid hand -sought his, and held it for a brief moment with a tremulous -clasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am very sorry, Ronald,' she managed to say, in a -broken voice. 'I suppose it could not have been -otherwise—I suppose it could not have been otherwise.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For some time they sate in silence—though he could -hear an occasional half-stifled sob. He could not pretend -to think that Meenie did not understand; and this was -her great pity for him; she did not drive him away in -anger—her heart was too gentle for that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Miss Douglas,' said he at length, 'I'm afraid I've -spoiled your walk for you wi' my idle story. Maybe the -best thing I can do now is just to leave you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No—stay,' she said, under her breath; and she was -evidently trying to regain her composure. 'You -spoke—you spoke of that girl—O Ronald, I wish I had never -come to Glasgow!—I wish I had never heard what you -told me just now!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, after a second—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But how could I help it—when I heard what was -happening to you, and all the wish in the world I had was -to know that you were brave and well and successful and -happy? I could not help it! ... And now—and now—Ronald,' -she said, as if with a struggle against that choking -weight of sobs; for much was demanded of her at this -moment; and her voice seemed powerless to utter all that -her heart prompted her to say, 'if—if that girl you spoke -of—if she was to see clearly what is best for her life -and for yours—if she was to tell you to take up your -work again, and work hard, and hard, and hard—and -then, some day, it might be years after this, when you -came back again to the north, you would find her still -waiting?——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Meenie!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He grasped her hand: his face was full of a bewilderment -of hope—not joy, not triumph, but as if he hardly -dared to believe what he had heard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'O Ronald,' she said, in a kind of wild way,—and she -turned her wet eyes towards him in full, unhesitating -abandonment of affection and trust, nor could she -withdraw the hand that he clasped so firmly,—'what will you -think of me?—what will you think of me?—but surely -there should be no hiding or false shame, and surely there -is for you and for me in the world but the one end to hope -for; and if not that—why, then, nothing. If you go away, -if you have nothing to hope for, it will be the old misery -back again, the old despair; and as for me—well, that is -not of much matter. But, Ronald—Ronald—whatever -happens—don't think too hardly of me—I know I should -not have said so much—but it would just break my heart -to think you were left to yourself in Glasgow—with nothing -to care for or hope for——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Think of you!' he cried, and in a kind of wonder of -rapture he was regarding Meenie's tear-filled eyes, that -made no shame of meeting his look. 'I think of you—and -ever will—as the tenderest and kindest and truest-hearted -of women.' He had both her hands now; and he -held them close and warm. 'Even now—at this minute—when -you have given yourself to me—you have no thought -of yourself at all—it is all about me, that am not worth it, -and never was. Is there any other woman in the world so -brave and unselfish! Meenie, lass—no, for this -once—and no one will ever be able to take the memory away -from me—for this once let me call you my love and my -darling—my true-hearted love and darling!—well, now, -that's said and done with; and many a day to come I will -think over these few minutes, and think of sitting here -with you in this West End Park on the bench here, and -the trees around, and I will say to myself that I called -Meenie my love and my darling, and she was not angry—not -angry.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, not angry, Ronald,' and there was a bit of a strange -and tender smile shining through the tears in the blue-gray -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, indeed,' said he, more gravely, 'that will be -something for me; maybe, everything. I can scarcely believe -that this has just happened—my heart's in a flame, and -my head's gone daft, I think; and it seems as if there was -nothing for me but to thank God for having sent you into -the world and made you as unselfish and generous as you -are. But that's not the way of looking at it, my—my good -lass. You have too little thought for yourself. Why, -what a coward I should be if I did not ask you to think of -the sacrifice you are making!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am making no sacrifice, Ronald,' she said, simply -and calmly. 'I spoke what my heart felt; and perhaps -too readily. But I am going back to the Highlands. I -shall stay there till you come for me, if ever you come for -me. They spoke of my going for a while to my mother's -cousins; but I shall not do that; no, I shall be at Inver-Mudal, -or wherever my father is, and you will easily get to -know that, Ronald. But if things go ill, and you do not -come for me—or—or, if ye do not care to come for me—well, -that is as the world goes, and no one can tell before-hand. -Or many years may go by, and when you do come -for me, Ronald, you may find me a gray-haired woman—but -you will find me a single woman.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She spoke quite calmly; this was no new resolve; it -was his lips, not hers, that were tremulous, for a second or -so. But only for a second; for now he was all anxiety to -cheer her and comfort her as regards the future. He -could not bring himself to ask her to consider again; the -prize was too precious; rather he spoke of all the chances -and hopes of life, and of the splendid future that she had -placed before him. Now there was something worth striving -for—something worth the winning. And already, with -the wild audacity that was now pulsating in his veins, he -saw the way clear—a long way, perhaps, and tedious, but -all filled with light and strewn with blossoms here or -there (these were messages, or a look, or a smile, from -Meenie), and at the end of it, waiting to welcome him, -Love-Meenie, Rose-Meenie, with love-radiance shining in her -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He almost talked her into cheerfulness (for she had -grown a little despondent after that first devotion of -self-surrender); and by and by she rose from the bench. She -was a little pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't know whether I have done well or ill, Ronald,' -she said, in a low voice, 'but I do not think I could have -done otherwise. It is for you to show hereafter that I -have done right.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But do you regret?' he said quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned to him with a strange smile on her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Regret? No. I do not think I could have done -otherwise. But it is for you to show to all of them that I -have done right.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And if it could only be done all at once, Meenie; -that's where the soldier has his chance——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, it is not to be done all at once,' she said; 'it will -be a hard and difficult waiting for you, and a slow waiting -for me——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do you think I care for any hardness or difficulty -now?' he said. 'Dear Meenie, you little know what a -prize you have set before me. Why, now, here, every -moment that I pass with you seems worth a year; and yet -I grudge every one——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But why?' she said, looking up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am going over to Pollokshaws the instant I leave you -to try to pick up the threads of everything I had let slip. -Dear lass, you have made every quarter of an hour in the -day far too short; I want twelve hours in the day to be -with you, and other twelve to be at my work.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We must see each other very little, Ronald,' she said, -as they set out to leave the Park. 'People would only -talk——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But to-morrow——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No. My sister is going down to Dunoon to-morrow to -see about the shutting up of the house for the winter, and -I am going with her. But on Friday—if you were in the -Botanic Gardens—early in the forenoon—perhaps I could -see you then?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, yes,' said he eagerly; and as they went down -towards the Woodland Road he strove to talk to her very -cheerfully and brightly indeed, for he could not but see -that she was a little troubled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, when they were about to part, she seemed to try -to rouse herself a little, and to banish whatever doubts and -hesitations may have been harassing her mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald,' she said, with a bit of a smile, 'when you told -me of that girl in the Highlands that you knew, you said -you—you had never said anything to her that would lead -her to imagine you were thinking of her. But you wrote -her a letter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes; and she saw it,' Meenie continued; but with -downcast eyes. 'It was not meant for her to see; but she -saw it. It was some verses—very pretty they were—but—but -rather daring—considering that——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bless me,' he exclaimed, 'did you see that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded. And then his mind went swiftly back to -that period.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Meenie, that was the time you were angry with me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And yet not so very angry, Ronald.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'</span><em class="italics">But Love from Love towards school with hoary looks.</em><span>' Not -always. Five miles an hour or so was the pace at -which Ronald sped over to Pollokshaws: and very much -astonished was the nervous little Mr. Weems over the -new-found and anxious energy of his quondam pupil. Ronald -remained all day there, and, indeed, did not leave the -cottage until it was very late. As he walked back into the -town all the world around him lay black and silent; no -stars were visible; no crescent moon; nor any dim outline -of cloud; but the dusky heavens were flushed with the -red fires of the ironworks, as the flames shot fiercely up, -and sent their sullen splendour across the startled night. -And that, it may have occurred to him, was as the lurid -glare that had lit up his own life for a while, until the fires -had gone down, and the world grown sombre and dead; -but surely there was a clear dawn about to break by and -by in the east—clear and silvery and luminous—like the -first glow of the morn along the Clebrig slopes.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="at-the-pear-tree-well"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">AT THE PEAR-TREE WELL.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He was almost glad that Meenie was going away for these -two days, for he was desperately anxious to make up for -the time he had lost; and the good-natured little -Mr. Weems, instead of showing any annoyance or resentment, -rather aided and abetted this furious zeal on the part of his -pupil. All the same, Ronald found occasion to be within -easy distance of the railway station on the morning of -Meenie's departure and about a few minutes to eight he -saw herself and her sister step out of one of the cabs that -were being driven up. If only he could have signalled a -good-bye to her! But he kept discreetly in the background; -glad enough to see that she was looking so fresh and -bright and cheerful—even laughing she was, over some little -mishap, as he imagined. And then so trim and neat she -was in her travelling attire; and so daintily she walked—the -graceful figure moving (as he thought) as if to a kind of -music. The elder sister took the tickets; then they -entered one of the carriages; and presently the train had -slowly rolled away from the platform and was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That glimpse of Meenie had filled his heart with -unutterable delight; he scarcely knew what he was doing -when he got out into the open air again. The day seemed -a festal day; there was gladness abroad in the very -atmosphere; it was a day for good-companionship, and the -drinking of healths, and the wishing of good wishes to all -the world. His thoughts were all with Meenie—in that -railway carriage flying away down to Greenock; and yet -here, around him, there was gladness and happiness that -seemed to demand some actual expression and recognition! -Almost unconsciously—and with his brain busy with very -distant matters—he walked into a public-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Give me a glass of Highland whisky, my lad,' said he -to the young man standing behind the counter: 'Talisker, -if ye have it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The whisky was measured out and placed before him. -He did not look at it. He was standing a little apart. -And now Meenie would be out by Pollokshields, in the -whiter air; by and by she would pass through Paisley's -smoke; then through the placid pastoral country until she -would come in sight of Dumbarton's castled crags and the -long wide valley of the Clyde. And then the breezy waters -of the Firth; and the big steamboat; and Meenie walking -up and down the white deck, and drawing the sealskin -coat a little tighter round the slight and graceful figure. -There would be sunlight there; and fresh sea-winds blowing -up from Arran and Bute, from Cumbrae and Cantire. -And Meenie—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at this moment his attention was somehow drawn -to the counter, and he was startled into a consciousness of -where he was and what he was doing. He glanced at the -whisky—with a kind of shiver of fright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God forgive me—I did not want it,' he said to the -astonished youth who was looking at him, 'but here's the -money for 't.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put down the few coppers on the counter and hurriedly -left the place. But the sudden fright was all. As he sped -away out to Pollokshaws he was not haunted by any -consciousness of having escaped from danger. He was sure -enough of himself in that direction. If a mortal craving -for drink had seized him, he would almost have been glad -of the fight; it would be something to slay the dragon, for -Meenie's sake. But he had naturally a sound and firm -constitution; his dissipation had not lasted long enough -to destroy his strength of will; and indeed this incident of -the public-house, so far from terrifying him with any doubts -as to the future, only served to remind him that dreams -and visions—and brains gone 'daft' with access of joy—are -not appropriate to the thoroughfares of a business city.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No; as he walked rapidly away from the town, by way -of Strathbungo and Crossmyloof and Shawlands, what he -was chiefly busy with was the hammering out of some tune -that would fit the winter song he had chanced upon a few -days before. And now he did not regard those gay and -galloping verses with a stupefied wonder as to how he ever -came to write them; rather he tried to reach again to that -same pitch of light-heartedness; and of course it was for -Meenie's delight, and for hers only, that this tune had to -be got at somehow. It was a laughing, glad kind of a -tune that he wanted:</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">O then the warm west winds will blow,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And all in the sunny weather</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">It's over the moorlands we will go,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">You and I, my love, together.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Chorus: And then the birds will begin to sing,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And we will sing too, my dear,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">To give good welcoming to the spring,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In the primrose-time o' the year—</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In the primrose-time,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In the primrose-time,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In the primrose-time o' the year—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">To give good welcoming to the spring.</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In the primrose-time o' the year.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Yes; and it was in the coming spring-time that he was to -try for the certificate in forestry; and thereafter—if he -were so fortunate as to get that—he might set forth on the -path that the Americans had so confidently sketched out -for him—the path that was now to lead him to Meenie, as -the final crown and prize. 'You may find me a gray-haired -woman, Ronald,' she had said, 'but you will find me a -single woman.' But still he was young in years; and there -was hope and courage in his veins; and what if he were to -win to her, after all, before there was a single streak of -middle age in the beautiful and abundant brown tresses?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, again, on the evening before the morning on -which he was to meet her in the Botanic Gardens, he -undid the package containing that anthology of verse -devoted to Meenie; and began to turn the pieces over, -wondering which, or if any of them, would please her, if -he took them to her. But this was rather a visionary -Meenie he found in these verses; not the real and actual -Meenie who had sate beside him on a bench in the West -End Park, and placed her hand in his, and pledged her -life to him, while the beautiful, tear-filled eyes sought his -so bravely. And could he not write something about this -actual Meenie; and about Glasgow; and the wonder she -had brought into the great, prosaic city? He tried his -hand at it, anyway, for a little while:</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">The dim red fires of yonder gleaming forge</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Now dwell triumphant on the brow of night;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A thousand chimneys blackest smoke disgorge,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Repelling from the world the stars' pale light:</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A little taper shines adown the street,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">From out her casement where she lingers still</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">To listen to the sound of passing feet,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">That all the night with leaden echoes fill——</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But he soon stopped. This was not like Meenie at all—Meenie, -who was ever associated in his mind with flowers -and birds and fair sunlight and the joy of the summer hills. -He threw that spoiled sheet into the fire; and sought -among the old pieces for one that he might copy out fairly -for her; and this is what he eventually chose:</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">All on a fair May morning</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">The roses began to blow;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Some of them tipped with crimson,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Some of them tipped with snow.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">But they looked the one to the other,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And they looked adown the glen;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">They looked the one to the other,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And they rubbed their eyes again,</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'O there is the lark in the heavens,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And the mavis sings in the tree;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And surely this is the summer,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">But Meenie we cannot see.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'Surely there must be summer</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Coming to this far clime;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And has Meenie, Love Meenie, forgotten,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Or have we mistaken the time?'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Then a foxglove spake to the roses:</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'O hush you and cease your din;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">For I'm going back to my sleeping,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Till Meenie brings summer in.'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Well, it was but a trifle; but trifles are sometimes -important things when seen through lovers' eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Next morning he went along to the Botanic Gardens; -paid his sixpence with equanimity (for he had dispensed -with the ceremony of dining the previous day) and entered. -It was rather a pleasant morning; and at first sight he was -rather shocked by the number of people—nursemaids and -children, most of them—who were idly strolling along the -trimly-kept walks or seated in front of the wide open -parterres. How was he to find Meenie in such a great place; -and, if he did find her, were they to walk up and down -before so many eyes? For he had guessed that Meenie -would be in no hurry to tell her sister of what had -happened—until the future seemed a little more clear and secure; -it would be time enough to publish the news when that had -assumed a more definite character.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But on and on he went—with glances that were keen -and sharp enough—until suddenly, just as he had passed the -greenhouses, he came almost face to face with Meenie, who -was seated on a bench, all by herself, with a book before -her. But she was not reading. 'O and proudly rose she -up'; and yet shyly, too; and as he took her hand in his, -the joy with which she regarded him needed no confession -in words—it was written there in the clear tender eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Indeed I am so glad to see you, Ronald!' she said. -'I have been so miserable these two days—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But why?' he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't know, hardly. I have been wondering whether -I had done right; and then to go about with my sister, -keeping this secret from her; and then I was thinking of -the going away back to Inver-Mudal, and never seeing you, -and not knowing how you were getting on. But now—now -that you are here, it seems all quite right and safe. -You look as if you brought good news. What does he -think, Ronald?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He?' he repeated. 'Who?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The old man out there at Pollokshaws, is it?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ronald laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, the old gentleman seems pretty confident; but -for very shame's sake I had to let him have a holiday -to-day. I am not going over till to-morrow.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And he thinks you will pass?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He seems to think so.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I wish the time were here now, and that it was all well -over,' she said. 'Oh, I should be so proud, Ronald; and -it will be something to speak of to every one; and then—then -that will be but the beginning; and day by day I shall -be expecting to hear the news. But what a long, long -time it seems to look forward to.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, lass; and it will be worse for you than for me; for -there will be the continual trying and hoping for me, and -for you nothing but the weary waiting. Well——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, but do you think I am afraid?' she said bravely. -'No. I have faith in you, Ronald. I know you will do -your best.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I should deserve to be hanged and buried in a ditch -if I did not,' said he. 'But we will leave all that for a -while, Meenie; I want you to come for a stroll along the -banks over the Kelvin. Would ye wonder to find some -sea-gulls flying about?—they're there, though; or they were -there a week or two ago. And do you know that I got a -glimpse of you at the railway station on Wednesday -morning?——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I did not see you, Ronald,' she said, with some surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no; I kept out o' the way. It's not for me, lass, -it's for you to say when any of your folk are to be told -what we are looking forward to; and for my part I would -as lief wait till I could put a clearer plan before -them—something definite.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And that is my opinion too, Ronald,' she answered, in -rather a low voice. 'Let it be merely an understanding -between you and me. I am content to wait.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, then,' said he, as they reached the top of the -high bank overhanging the river, and began to make their -way down the narrow little pathways cut through the trees -and shrubs, 'here is a confession: I was so glad to see -you on that morning—and so glad to see you looking so -well—that I half lost my senses, I think; I went away -through the streets in a kind o' dream; and, sure as I'm -here, I walked into a public-house and ordered a glass of -whisky——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up in sudden alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no, no,' said he contentedly, 'you need not fear -that, my good lassie; it was just that I was bewildered -with having seen ye, and thinking of where ye were going. -I walked out o' the place without touching it. Ay, and -what think ye o' Dunoon? And what kind of a day was -it when ye got out on the Firth?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she began to tell him of all her adventures and -experiences; and by this time they had got down near to -the water's edge; and here—of what value would his -knowledge of forestry have been otherwise?—he managed -to find a seat for her. They were quite alone here—the -brown river before them; several sea-gulls placidly paddling -on its surface, others flying and dipping overhead; and if -this bank of the stream was in shadow, the other—with -some small green meadows backed by clumps of elms and -maples—was bright and fair enough in the yellow autumn -sunshine. They were in absolute silence, too, save for the -continual soft murmur of the water, and the occasional -whirring by of a blackbird seeking safety underneath a -laurel bush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Meenie,' said he, putting one hand on her shoulder, -'here are some verses I copied out for ye last night—they're -not much worth—but they were written a long time -ago, when little did I think I should ever dare to put them -into your hand.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She read them; and there was a rose colour in her -face as she did so: not that she was proud of their merit, -but because of the revelation they contained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A long time ago?' she said, with averted eyes—but -her heart was beating warmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' he said, 'there are dozens and dozens of similar -things, if ever ye care to look at them. It was many a -happy morning on the hill, and many a quiet night at home, -they gave me; but somehow, lass, now that I look at them, -they hardly seem to grip ye fast enough. I want something -that will bind ye closer to myself—something that ye can -read when you are back in the Highlands—something that -is known only to our two selves. Well, now, these things -that I have written from time to time—you're a long way -off in them somehow—the Meenie that's in them is not -this actual Meenie, warm and kind and generous and -breathing——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And a little bit happy, Ronald, just at present,' she -said, and she took his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And some day, when I get through with busier work, -I must try to write you something for yourself——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But, Ronald, all these pieces you speak of belong to -me,' she said promptly, 'and I want them, every one—every, -every one. Yes, and I specially want that letter—if -you have not kept it, then you must remember it, and -write it out for me again——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I came across it last night,' said he, with an embarrassed -laugh. 'Indeed I don't wonder you were angry.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have told you before, Ronald, that I was not angry,' -she said, with a touch of vexation. 'Perhaps I was a -little—a little frightened—and scarcely knowing how much you -meant——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, you know now, Meenie dear; but last night, -when I was going over those scraps of things, I can tell -you I was inclined to draw back. I kept saying to -myself—"What! is she really going to see herself talked -about in this way?" For there's a good deal of love-making -in them, Meenie, and that's a fact; I knew I could say -what I liked, since no one would be any the wiser, but, -last night, when I looked at some of them, I said—"No; -I'm not going to provoke a quarrel with Meenie. -She would fling things about, as the American used -to say, if she saw all this audacious song-writing about her."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'll chance that quarrel, Ronald,' she answered to this, -'for I want every, every, every one of them; and you must -copy them all, for I am going to take them with me when -I leave Glasgow.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And, indeed,' said he, 'you'll understand them better -in the Highlands; for they're all about Ben Loyal, and the -Mudal, and Loch Naver, and Clebrig.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And to think you hid them from me all that time!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, Meenie darling, you would have called on the -whole population to drive me out of the place if I had -shown them to you. Think of the effect produced by a -single glance at one of them!—you tortured me for weeks -wondering how I had offended you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, you can't offend me now, Ronald, </span><em class="italics">that way</em><span>,' -said she, very prettily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so their lovers' talk went on, until it was time for -Meenie to think of returning home. But just beyond these -Botanic Gardens, and down in a secluded nook by the side -of the river, there is a little spring that is variously known -as the Three-Tree Well and the Pear-Tree Well. It is a -limpid little stream, running into the Kelvin; it rises in a -tiny cavern and flows for a few yards through a cleft in the -rocks. Now these rocks, underneath the overarching trees, -have been worn quite smooth (except where they are scored -with names) by the footsteps of generation after generation -of lovers who, in obedience to an old and fond custom, -have come hither to plight their troth while joining hands -over the brooklet. Properly the two sweethearts, each -standing on one side, ought to join their hands on a Bible -as they vow their vows, and thereafter should break a -sixpence in twain, each carrying away the half; but these -minor points are not necessary to the efficacy of this -probably pagan rite. And so—supposing that Ronald had -heard of this place of sacred pilgrimage, and had indeed -discovered its whereabouts in his rambles around Glasgow—and -supposing him to have got a friendly under-gardener -to unlock a gate in the western palisades of the Gardens—and -then, if he were to ask Meenie to step down to the -river-side and walk along to the hallowed well? And yet -he made of it no solemn ceremony; the morning was -bright and clear around them; and Meenie was rather -inclined to smile at the curious old custom. But she went -through it nevertheless; and then he slept across the rill -again; and said he—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There's but this remaining now, Meenie darling—"Ae -fond kiss and then we sever."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stepped back in affright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald, not with that song on your lips! Don't you -remember what it goes on to say?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, I don't,' he answered good-naturedly; for he had -quoted the phrase at random.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, don't you remember?—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">"Had we never loved sae kindly,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Had we never loved sae blindly,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Never met—or never parted,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">We had ne'er been broken-hearted."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'My good-hearted lass,' said he, interlinking his arm -with hers, 'ye must not be superstitious. What's in a song? -There'll be no severance betwixt you and me—the -Pear-Tree Well has settled that.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And that is not at all superstition?' said she, looking -up with a smile—until she suddenly found her blushing -face overshadowed.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-coming-of-troubles"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE COMING OF TROUBLES.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>These were halcyon days. Those two had arrived at a -pretty accurate understanding of the times of each other's -comings and goings; and if they could snatch but five -minutes together, as he was on his way over to the south, -well, that was something; and not unfrequently the lingering -good-bye was lengthened out to a quarter of an hour; and -then again when high fortune was in the ascendant, a whole -golden hour was theirs—that was as precious as a year of -life. For their hastily-snatched interviews the most -convenient and secret rendezvous was Hill Street, Garnet Hill; -a quiet little thoroughfare, too steep for cabs or carriages to -ascend. And very cheerful and bright and pleasant this -still neighbourhood looked on those October mornings; -for there was yet some crisp and yellow foliage on the trees; -and the little patches of green within the railings lay warm -in the light; and on the northern side of the street the -house-fronts were of a comfortable sunny gray. Ordinarily -there were so few people about that these two could walk -hand in hand, if they chose; or they could stand still, -and converse face to face, when some more than usually -interesting talk was going forward. And it was quite -astonishing what a lot of things they had to say to each -other, and the importance that attached to the very least -of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But one piece of news that Meenie brought to these stolen -interviews was by no means insignificant: she was now -receiving marked attentions from a young Glasgow -gentleman—attentions that her sister had perceived at a very early -period, though Meenie had striven to remain blind to them. -Nor was there anything very singular in this. Mr. Gemmill -was exceedingly proud of his pretty sister-in-law; he had -asked lots of people to the house for the very purpose of -meeting her; she was the centre of interest and attraction -at these numerous gatherings; and what more natural than -that some susceptible youth should have his mind disturbed -by an unwitting glance or two from those clear Highland -eyes? And what rendered this prospect so pleasing to the -Gemmills was this: the young man who had been stricken -by these unintentional darts was no other than the only son -of the founder of the firm in which Mr. Gemmill was a -junior partner—the old gentleman having retired from the -business some dozen years before, carrying with him a very -substantial fortune indeed, to which this son was sole heir. -In more ways than one this match, if it were to be a match, -would be highly advantageous; and Mrs. Gemmill, while -saying little, was secretly rejoiced to see everything going -on so well. If Meenie chanced to ask what such and -such a piece was (Mr. Frank Lauder played a little), -even that slight expression of interest was inevitably -followed by her receiving the sheet of music by post next -morning. Flowers, again: one cannot very well refuse to -accept flowers; they are not like other gifts; they may mean -nothing. Then, it was quite remarkable how often he found -himself going to the very same theatre or the very same -concert that the Gemmills had arranged to take Meenie to; -and naturally—as it chanced he had no one going with -him—he asked to be allowed to go with them. He even talked -of taking a seat in Maple Street Church (this was the church -that the Gemmills attended), for he said that he was tired to -death of the preaching of that old fogey, Dr. Teith, and that -Mr. Smilie's last volume of poems (Mr. Smilie was the Maple -Street Church minister) had aroused in him a great curiosity -to hear his sermons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as for Mr. Frank Lauder himself—well, he was pretty -much as other young Glasgow men of fashion; though, to -be sure, these form a race by themselves, and a very -curious race too. They are for the most part a -good-natured set of lads; free and generous in their ways; not -anything like the wild Lotharios which, amongst themselves, -they profess to be; well dressed; a little lacking in repose -of manner; many of them given to boating and yachting—and -some of them even expert seamen; nearly all of -them fond of airing a bit of Cockney slang picked up in a -London music hall during a fortnight's visit to town. But -their most odd characteristic is an affectation of -knowingness—as if they had read the book of nature and human -nature through to the last chapter; whereas these -well-dressed, good-natured, but rather brainless young men are -as innocently ignorant of that book as of most other books. -Knowing but one language—and that imperfectly—is no -doubt a bar to travel; but surely nowhere else on the face -of the globe could one find a set of young fellows—with -similar opportunities set before them—content to remain -so thoroughly untutored and untravelled; and nowhere else -a set of youths who, while professing to be men of the -world, could show themselves so absolutely unversed in the -world's ways. But they (or some of them) understand the -lines of a yacht; and they don't drink champagne as sweet -as they used to do; and no doubt, as they grow into middle -age, they will throw aside the crude affectations of youth, -and assume a respectable gravity of manner, and eventually -become solid and substantial pillars of the Free, U.P., and -Established Churches.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This Frank Lauder was rather a favourable specimen of -his class; perhaps, in his extreme desire to ingratiate -himself with Meenie, he assumed a modesty of demeanour that -was not quite natural to him. But his self-satisfied jocosity, -his mean interpretation of human motives, his familiarly -conventional opinions in all matters connected with the -arts, could not always be hidden beneath this mask of -meekness; and Meenie's shrewd eyes had discerned clearly -of what kind he was at a very early period of their -acquaintance. For one thing, her solitary life in the Highlands -had made of her a diligent and extensive reader; while her -association with Ronald had taught her keen independence -of judgment; and she was almost ashamed to find how -absolutely unlettered this youth was, and how he would -feebly try to discover what her opinion was, in order to -express agreement with it. That was not Ronald's way. -Ronald took her sharply to task when she fell away from his -standard—or rather their conjoint standard—in some of -her small preferences. Even in music, of which this young -gentleman knew a little, his tastes were the tastes of the mob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why do you always get away from the room when -Mr. Lauder sits down to the piano?' her sister said, with -some touch of resentment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I can endure a little Offenbach,' she answered saucily, -'when I'm strong and in good health. But we get a little -too much of it when he comes here.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course Ronald was given to know of these visits and -of their obvious aim; but he did not seem very deeply -concerned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You know I can't help it, Ronald,' she said, one -morning, as they were slowly climbing the steep little -Randolph Terrace together, her hand resting on his arm. -'I can't tell him to go away while my sister keeps asking -him to the house. They say that a girl can always show -by her manner when any attention is displeasing to her. -Well, that depends. I can't be downright rude—I am -staying in my sister's house. And then, I wouldn't say he -was conceited—I wouldn't say that, Ronald—but—but he -is pretty well satisfied with himself; and perhaps not so -sensitive about one's manner towards him as some might -be. As for you, Ronald,' she said, with a laugh, 'I could -send you flying, like a bolt from a bow, with a single look.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Could you, lass?' said he. 'I doubt it. Perhaps I -would refuse to budge. I have got charge of you now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, well, I am not likely to try, I think,' she continued. -'But about this Mr. Lauder, Ronald—you see, he is a very -important person in Mr. Gemmill's eyes; for he and his -father have still some interest in the warehouse, I suppose; -and I know he thinks it is time that Mr. Gemmill's name -should be mentioned in the firm—not mere "Co." And -that would please Agatha too; and so they're very polite to -him; and they expect me to be very polite to him too. You -see, Ronald, I can't tell him to go away until he says -something—either to me or to Agatha; and he won't take a hint, -though he must see that I would rather not have him send -flowers and music and that; and then, again, I sometimes -think it is not fair to you, Ronald, that I should allow -anything of the kind to go on—merely through the difficulty -of speaking——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped, and put his hand over the hand that lay on -his arm: there was not a human being in sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell me this, Meenie darling: does his coming to the -house vex you and trouble you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh no—not in the least,' said she, blithely and yet -seriously. 'I am rather pleased when he comes to the -house. When he is there of an evening, and I have the -chance of sitting and looking at him, it makes me quite -happy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was rather a startling statement, and instantly she -saw a quick, strange look in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But you don't understand, Ronald,' she said placidly, -and without taking away her eyes from his. 'Every time -I look at him I think of you, and it's the difference that -makes me glad.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Halcyon days indeed; and Glasgow became a radiant -golden city in this happy autumn time; and each meeting -was sweeter and dearer than its predecessor; and their twin -lives seemed to be floating along together on a river of joy. -With what a covetous care she treasured up each fragment -of verse he brought her, and hid it away in a little thin -leathern case she had herself made, so that she could wear -it next her heart. He purchased for her little presents—such -as he could afford—to show her that he was thinking -of her on the days when they could not meet; and when -she took these, and kissed them, it was not of their -pecuniary value she was thinking. As for her, she had vast -schemes as to what she was going to make for him when -she got back to the Highlands. Here, in Glasgow, nothing -of the kind was possible. Her sister's eyes were too sharp, -and her own time too much occupied. Indeed, what between -the real lover, who was greedy of every moment she could -spare for these secret interviews, and the pseudo lover, who -kept the Queen's Crescent household in a constant turmoil -of engagements and entertainments and visits, Rose Meenie -found the hours sufficiently full; and the days of her stay -in Glasgow were going by rapidly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But Scripture saith, an ending to all fine things must -be;' and the ending, in this case, was the work of the -widow Menzies. Kate felt herself at once aggrieved and -perplexed by Ronald's continued absence; but she was even -more astonished when, on sending to make inquiries, she -found he had left his lodgings and gone elsewhere, leaving -no address. She saw a purpose in this; she leapt to the -conclusion that a woman had something to do with it; and -in her jealous anger and mortification she determined on -leaving no stone unturned to discover his whereabouts. -But her two cronies, Laidlaw and old Jaap (the skipper -was away at sea again), seemed quite powerless to aid her. -They knew that Ronald occasionally used to go over to -Pollokshaws; but further than that, nothing. He never -came to the Harmony Club now; and not one of his former -companions knew anything about him. Old Mr. Jaap -hoped that no harm had come to the lad, whom he liked; -but Jimmy Laidlaw was none so sorry over this disappearance: -he might himself have a better chance with the widow, -now that Kate's handsome cousin was out of the way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Kate herself who made the discovery, ami that -in the simplest manner possible. She and mother Paterson -had been away somewhere outside the town for a drive: -and they were returning by the Great Western Road, one -evening towards dusk, when all at once the widow caught -sight of Ronald, at some distance off, and just as he was in -the act of saying good-bye to a woman—to a young girl -apparently. Kate pulled up the cob so suddenly that she -nearly pitched her companion headlong into the street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What is it, Katie dear?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not answer; she let the cob move forward a -yard or two, so as to get the dog-cart close in by the -pavement; and then she waited—watching with an eager scrutiny -this figure that was now coming along. Meenie did not -notice her; probably the girl was too busy with her own -thoughts; but these could not have been sad ones, for the -bright young face, with its tender colour rather heightened -by the sharpness of the evening air, seemed happy enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Flying high, he is,' was Kate Menzies's inward comment -as she marked the smart costume and the well-bred air and -carriage of this young lady.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, the moment she had passed, Kate said quickly—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Here, auntie, take the reins, and wait here. Never -mind how long. He'll no stir; if you're feared, bid a laddie -stand by his head.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But what is't, Katie dear?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not answer; she got down from the trap; and -then, at first quickly, and afterwards more cautiously, she -proceeded to follow the girl whom she had seen parting -from Ronald. Nor had she far to go, as it turned out. -Meenie left the main thoroughfare at Melrose Street—Kate -Menzies keeping fairly close up to her now; and almost -directly after was standing at the door of her sister's house -in Queen's Crescent, waiting for the ringing of the bell to -be answered. It needed no profound detective skill on -the part of Mrs. Menzies to ascertain the number of the -house, so soon as the girl had gone inside; and thereafter -she hurried back to the dog-cart, and got up, and continued -her driving.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, that bangs Banagher!' she said, with a loud laugh, -as she smartly touched the cob with the whip. 'The Great -Western Road, of a' places in the world! The Great -Western Road—and he goes off by the New City Road—there's -a place for twa lovers to forgather!</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">"We'll meet beside the dusky glen, on yon burn side,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Where the bushes form a cosie den, on yon burn side."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But the Great Western Road—bless us a', and the laddie -used to write poetry!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But what is it, Katie?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, it's Ronald and his lass, woman: didna ye see -them? Oh ay, he's carried his good looks to a braw -market—set her up wi' her velvet hat and her sealskin -coat, and living in Queen's Crescent forbye. Ay, ay, he's -ta'en his pigs to a braw market——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's no possible, Katie dear!' exclaimed mother -Paterson, who affected to be very much shocked. 'Your -cousin Ronald wi' a sweetheart?—and him so much -indebted to you——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The twa canary birds!' she continued, with mirth that -sounded not quite real. 'But never a kiss at parting, wi' a' -they folk about. And that's why ye've been hiding -yourself away, my lad? But I jalouse that that braw young -leddy o' yours would laugh the other side of her mouth if -her friends were to find out her pranks.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And indeed that was the thought that chiefly occupied -her mind during the rest of the drive home. Arrived there, -she called for the Post-Office Directory, and found that the -name of the people living in that house in Queen's Crescent -was Gemmill. She asked her cronies, when they turned -up in the evening, who this Gemmill was; but neither of -them knew. Accordingly, being left to her own resources, -and without letting even mother Paterson know, she took a -sheet of paper and wrote as follows—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'SIR—Who is the young lady in your house who keeps -appointments with Ronald Strang, formerly of Inver-Mudal? -Keep a better look-out. Yours, A Friend.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And this she enclosed in an envelope, and directed it to -Mr. Gemmill of such and such a number, Queen's Crescent, -and herself took it to the post. It was a mere random -shot, for she had nothing to go upon but her own sudden -suspicions; but she was angry and hot-headed; and in no -case, she considered, would this do any harm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She succeeded far better than she could have expected. -Mr. Gemmill handed the anonymous note to his wife with -a brief laugh of derision. But Agatha (who knew more -about Ronald Strang than he) looked startled. She would -not say anything. She would not admit to her husband -that this was anything but an idle piece of malice. -Nevertheless, when Mr. Gemmill left for the city, she began to -consider what she should do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unfortunately, as it happened that morning, Meenie just -played into her sister's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Aggie dear, I am going along to Sauchiehall Street for -some more of that crimson wool: can I bring you anything?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, thank you,' she said; and then instantly it occurred -to her that she would go out and follow her sister, just to -see whether there might be any ground for this anonymous -warning. It certainly was a strange thing that any one -should know that Meenie and Ronald Strang were even -acquainted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And at first—as she kept a shrewd eye on the girl, whom -she allowed to precede her by some distance—all seemed -to go well. Meenie looked neither to the right nor to the -left as she walked, with some quickness, along St. George's -Road towards Sauchiehall Street. When she reached the -wool shop and entered, Mrs. Gemmill's conscience smote -her—why should she have been so quick to harbour -suspicions of her own sister? But she would still watch -her on the homeward way—just to make sure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Meenie came out again from the shop she looked -at her watch; and it was clear that she was now quickening -her pace as she set forth. Why this hurry, Mrs. Gemmill -asked herself?—the girl was not so busy at home. But -the solution of the mystery was soon apparent. Meenie -arrived at the corner of Hill Street; gave one quick glance -up the quiet little thoroughfare; the next moment -Mrs. Gemmill recognised well enough—for she had seen him -once or twice in the Highlands—who this well-built, -straight-limbed young fellow was who was now coming -down the steep little street at such a swinging pace. -And Meenie went forward to meet him, with her face -upturned to his; and she put her hand on his arm quite -as if that were her familiar custom; and away these -two went—slowly, it is true, for the ascent was steep—and -clearly they were heeding not anything and not anybody -around.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agatha turned away and went home; she had seen -enough. To say that she was deeply shocked would hardly -be true; for there are very few young women who have -not, at some time or other in their lives, made an innocent -little arrangement by which they might enjoy an unobserved -interview with the object of their choice; and, if there are -any such extremely proper young persons, Agatha Gemmill -knew that she had not been in the category herself. But -she was resolved upon being both indignant and angry. -It was her duty. There was this girl wilfully throwing -away all the chances of her life. A gamekeeper!—that -her sister should be for marrying a gamekeeper just at the -time that Mr. Gemmill expected to have his name announced -as a partner in the great firm! Nay, she made no doubt -that Meenie had come to Glasgow for the very purpose of -seeking him out. And what was to become of young -Frank Lauder? Indeed, by the time Meenie returned -home, her sister had succeeded in nursing up a considerable -volume of wrath; for she considered she was doing -well to be angry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when the battle-royal did begin, it was at first all on -one side. Meenie did not seek to deny anything. She -quite calmly admitted that she meant to marry Ronald, -if ever their circumstances should be so favourable. She -even confessed that she had come to Glasgow in the hope -of seeing him. Had she no shame in making such an -avowal?—no, she said, she had none; none at all. And -what had she meant by encouraging Mr. Lauder?—she -had not encouraged him in any way, she answered; she -would rather have had none of his attentions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was when the elder sister began to speak angrily -and contemptuously of Ronald that the younger sister's -eyes flashed fire and her lips grew pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A gentleman?' she retorted. 'I might marry a gentleman? -I tell you there is no such gentleman—in manner, -in disposition, in education—I say there is no such -gentleman as he is comes to this house!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Deary me!' said Agatha sarcastically, but she was -rather frightened by this unwonted vehemence. 'To think -that a gamekeeper——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He is not a gamekeeper! He will never be a gamekeeper -again. But if he were, what should I care? It was -as a gamekeeper that I learnt to know him. It was as a -gamekeeper that I gave him my love. Do you think I care what -occupation he follows when I know what he is himself?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hoity-toity! Here's romance in the nineteenth century!—and -from you, Meenie, that were always such a sensible -girl! But I'll have nothing to do with it. Back you pack -to the Highlands, and at once; that's what I have got to say.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am quite willing to go back,' the girl said proudly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, because you think you will be allowed to write to -him; and that all the fine courting will go on that way; -and I've no doubt you're thinking he's going to make money -in Glasgow—for a girl as mad as you seem to be will -believe anything. Well, don't believe </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>. Don't believe -you will have any fine love-making in absence, and all that -kind of stuff. Mother will take good care. I should not -wonder if she sent you to a school in Germany, if the -expense were not too great—how would you like that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But she will not.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, then?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Because I will not go.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Here's bravery! I suppose you want something more -heroic—drowning yourself because of your lost love—or -locking yourself up in a convent to escape from your cruel -parents—something that will make the papers write things -about you? But I think you will find a difference after you -have been two or three months at Inver-Mudal. Perhaps -you will have come to your senses then. Perhaps you will -have learnt what it was to have had a good prospect of -settling yourself in life—with a respectable well-conducted -young man—of good family—the Lauders of Craig themselves -are not in the least ashamed that some of the family -have been in business—yes, you will think of that, and that -you threw the chance away because of an infatuation about -a drunken ne'er-do-weel——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He is not—he is not!' she said passionately; and her -cheeks were white; but there was something grasping her -heart, and like to suffocate her, so that she could not -protest more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Anyway, I will take care that I shall have nothing to -do with it,' the elder sister continued; 'and if you should -see him again before you go, I would advise you to bid -him good-bye, for it will be the last time. Mother will -take care of that, or I am mistaken.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She left the room; and the girl remained alone—proud -and pale and rebellious; but still with this dreadful weight -upon her heart, of despair and fear that she would not -acknowledge. If only she could see Ronald! One word -from him—one look—would be enough. But if this were -true?—if she were never to be allowed to hear from him -again?—they might even appeal to himself, and who could -say what promise they might not extract from him, if they -were sufficiently cunning of approach? They might say it -was for her welfare—they might appeal to his honour—they -might win some pledge from him—and she knowing nothing -of it all! If only she could see him for one moment! -The very pulses of her blood seemed to keep repeating his -name at every throb—yearning towards him, as it were; -and at last she threw herself down on the sofa and buried -her head in the cushion, and burst into a wild and -long-continued fit of weeping and sobbing. But this in time -lightened the weight at her heart, at any rate; and when -at length she rose—with tear-stained cheeks and tremulous -lips and dishevelled hair—there was still something in her -look that showed that the courage with which she had -faced her sister was not altogether gone; and soon the lips -had less of tremulousness about them than of a proud -decision; and there was that in the very calmness of her -demeanour that would have warned all whom it might -concern that the days of her placid and obedient girlhood -were over.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-other-climes"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN OTHER CLIMES.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Never was there a gayer party than this that was walking -from the hotel towards the shores of Lake George, on a -brilliant and blue-skied October morning. Perhaps the -most demure—or the most professedly demure—was Miss -Carry Hodson herself, who affected to walk apart a little; -and swung carelessly the fur cape she carried in her hand; -and refused all kinds of attentions from a tall, lank, -long-haired young man who humbly followed her; and -pretended that she was wholly engrossed with the air of</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'I'm in love, sweet Mistress Prue,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Sooth I can't conceal it;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">My poor heart is broke in two—-</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">You alone can heal it.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As for the others of this light-hearted and laughing group of -young folk, they were these: Miss Kerfoot, a fresh-coloured, -plump, pleasant-looking girl, wearing much elaborate -head-gear rather out of proportion to her stature; her married -sister, Mrs. Lalor, a grass-widow who was kind enough to -play chaperon to the young people, but whose effective -black eyes had a little trick of roving on their own -account—perhaps merely in quest of a joke; Dr. Thomas P. Tilley, -an adolescent practitioner, who might have inspired a little -more confidence in his patients had he condescended to -powder his profuse chestnut-brown hair; and, finally, the long -and lank gentleman who waited so humbly on Miss Hodson, -and who was Mr. J. C. Huysen, of the </span><em class="italics">Chicago Citizen</em><span>. -Miss Carry had at length—and after abundant meek -intercession and explanations and expressions of -remorse—pardoned the repentant editor for his treatment of Ronald. -It was none of his doing, he vowed and declared. It was -some young jackass whom the proprietors of the paper had -introduced to him. The article had slipped in without his -having seen it first. If only her Scotch friend would write -something more, he would undertake that the </span><em class="italics">Chicago -Citizen</em><span> would treat it with the greatest respect. And so -forth. Miss Carry was for a long time obdurate, and -affected to think that it was poetical jealousy on his part -(for the lank-haired editor had himself in former days written -and published sentimental verse—a fact which was not -forgotten by one or two of the wicked young men on the -staff of the </span><em class="italics">N. Y. Sun</em><span> when Mr. Huysen adventured into -the stormy arena of politics); but in the end she restored -him to favour, and found him more submissive than ever. -And in truth there was substantial reason for his -submission. The </span><em class="italics">Chicago Citizen</em><span> paid well enough, no doubt; -but the editor of that journal had large views; and Miss -Hodson's husband—if all stories were true—would find -himself in a very enviable position indeed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mayn't I carry your cape for you, Miss Hodson?' the -tall editor said, in the most pleading way in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, I thank you,' she answered, civilly enough; but she -did not turn her head; and she made believe that her mind -was wholly set on</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'I'm in love, sweet Mistress Prue,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Sooth I can't conceal it.'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This timid prayer and its repulse had not escaped the sharp -observation of Miss Kerfoot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' said she, 'there's no doing anything with Carry, -ever since we came to Fort George. Nothing's good -enough for her; the hills are not high enough; and the -place is not wild enough; and there's no catching of salmon -in drenching rain—so there's no amusement for her. -Amusement? I know where the trouble is; I know what -amusement she wants; I know what makes her grumble at -the big hotels, and the decent clothes that people prefer to -wear, and the rattlesnakes, and all the rest. Of course this -lake can't be like the Scotch lake; there isn't a handsome -young gamekeeper here for her to flirt with. Flirtation, -was it? Well, I suppose it was, and no more. I don't -understand the manners and customs of savage nations. -Look at her now. Look at that thing on her head. I've -heard of girls wearing true-love knots, and rings, and things -of that kind, to remind them of their sweethearts; but I -never heard of their going about wearing a yellow Tam-o'-Shanter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Carry smiled a superior smile; she would pay no -heed to these ribald remarks; apparently she was wholly -engrossed with</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'I'm in love, sweet Mistress Prue.'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'It isn't fair of you to tell tales out of school, Em,' -the young matron said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But I wasn't there. If I had been, there would have -been a little better behaviour. Why, I never! Do you -know how they teach girls to use a salmon-rod in that -country?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The question was addressed to Mr. Huysen; but Miss -Kerfoot's eyes were fixed on Miss Carry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, I don't,' he answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, you don't know,' she said. 'You don't know. -Really. Well, I'll tell you. The gamekeeper—and the -handsomer the better—stands overlooking the girl's -shoulder; and she holds the rod; and he grips her hand -and the rod at the same time.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But I know how,' the young Doctor interposed. -'See here—give me your hand—I'll show you in a -minute.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh no, you shan't,' said she, instantly disengaging -herself; 'this is a respectable country. We don't do -such things in New York State. Of course, over there -it's different. Oh yes; if I were there myself—and—and -if the gamekeeper was handsome enough—and if he -asked me to have a lesson in salmon-fishing—don't you -think I would go? Why, I should smile!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But here Miss Carry burst out laughing; for her friend -had been caught. These two girls were in the habit of -talking the direst slang between themselves (and occasionally -Miss Carry practised a little of it on her papa), but this -wickedness they did in secret; outsiders were not supposed -to know anything of that. And now Dr. Tilley did not -seem very much pleased at hearing Miss Kerfoot say 'I -should smile'; and Miss Kerfoot looked self-conscious -and amused and a little embarrassed; and Carry kept -on laughing. However, it all blew over; for now they -were down at the landing stage; and presently the Doctor -was handing them into the spick and span new cat-boat that -he had just had sent through from New York that autumn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indeed it was a right joyous party that now went -sailing out on the clear lapping waters; for there was a brisk -breeze blowing; and two pairs of sweethearts in one -small boat's cargo make a fair proportion; and Lake -George, in October, before the leaves are beginning to fall, -is just about as beautiful a place as any one can want. -The far low hills were all red and brown and yellow with -maple and scrub oak, except where the pines and the -hemlocks interposed a dark blue-green; and nearer at -hand, on the silvery surface of the lake, were innumerable -small wooded islands, with a line of white foam along -the windward shores; and overhead a perfectly cloudless -sky of intense and brilliant blue. And if these were not -enough for the gay voyagers, then there were other -things—laughter, sarcasm, subtle compliments, daring or stolen -glances; until at last the full tide of joy burst into song. -Who can tell which of them it was that started</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'I'se gwine back to Dixie, no more I'se gwine to wander,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">My heart's turned back to Dixie, I can't stay here no longer'?</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>No matter; nor was it of much consequence whether -the words of the song were of a highly intellectual cast, nor -whether the music was of the most distinguished character, -so long as there was a chorus admirably adapted for -soprano, alto, tenor, and bass. It was very speedily clear -that this was not the first time these four had practised -the chorus (Mrs. Lalor was allowed to come in just where -she pleased), nor was there any great sadness in their -interpretation of the words—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>I'se gwine back to Dix-ie, I'se gwine back to</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Dix-ie, I's gwine where to or-ange blos-soms grow, ...</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>... For I hear the chil-dren call-ing, I see their sad tears</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>fall-ing, My heart's turn'd back to Dix-ie, And I must go.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 78%" id="figure-37"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Music fragment" src="images/img-104.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Music fragment</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It is impossible to say how often they repeated the chorus; -until Mrs. Lalor asked the girls why they were so fond -of singing about orange blossoms, and then presently they -turned to something else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this time they were beating up against a stiff but -steady head-wind; the Doctor at the tiller; the lank -editor standing by the mast at the bow; the girls and -their chaperon snugly ensconced in the capacious -cockpit, but still having to dodge the enormously long boom -when the boat was put about. The women-folk, of course, -paid no attention to the sailing; they never do; they -were quite happy in leaving the whole responsibility on -the owner of the craft; and were entirely wrapped up in -their own petty affairs. Nay, so recklessly inconsiderate -were they that they began to be angry because Dr. Tilley -would not get out his banjo—which was in the tiny cabin, -or rather locker, at the bow. They wanted to sing -'Dancing in the Barn,' they said. What was the use of -that without a banjo to play the dance music?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Very well,' said the complaisant Doctor, 'we'll run into -some quiet creek in one of the islands; and then I'll -see what I can do for you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No, no, they said; they wanted to sing sailing; they -did not wish to go ashore, or near the shore. Well, the -amiable Doctor scarce knew how to please them, for he -could not steer the boat and play the banjo at the same -time; and he was not sure about entrusting the safety of -so precious a cargo to the uncertain seamanship of the -editor. However, they were now a long way from Fort -George; they might as well take a run back in that -direction; and so—the boat having been let away from -the wind and put on a fair course for the distant -landing-stage—Mr. Huysen was called down from the bow and -directed as to how he should steer; and then the Doctor -went forward and got out the banjo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now this 'Dancing in the Barn' (the words are idiotic -enough) has a very catching air; and no sooner had the -Doctor—who was standing up on the bit of a deck forward, -where Jack Huysen had been—begun the tinkling prelude -than the girls showed little movements of hands and feet, -as if they were performing an imaginary 'cake-walk.'</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'Oh, we'll meet at the ball in the evening,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Kase I love to pass the time away'</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>—they were all singing at it now; they did not wait for -any chorus; and Miss Carry had caught Miss Em's hand, -and was holding it on high, and keeping time to the music, -as if she were in reality leading her down the barn.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>As we move so grace-ful-ly</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We're as hap-py as can be</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Den swing you partners all to-</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 75%" id="figure-38"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Music fragment" src="images/img-107.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Music fragment</span></div> -<div class="legend margin"> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>ge-ther, Kase now's the time for you to larn, Ban-jos</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>ring-ing, Nig-gers sing-ing, And danc-ing in the barn.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 77%" id="figure-39"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="music fragment" src="images/img-108.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">music fragment</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Then came in the rippling dance—played as a solo on the -banjo; and so catching was it that the two girls stood up, -and made believe to dance a little. You see, the boat was -running free before the wind, and there was scarcely any -appreciable motion, though she was going at a good speed, -for her mainsail was enormously large and the breeze was -brisk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I say, Huysen,' the Doctor called, while he was -playing the dance, 'look what you're about. Never mind -the singing. Keep her bow straight for the landing-stage.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the next verse began—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'Den we's off to work in de morning,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Singing as we go out to de field,'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>and they all went at it with a will. And then the chorus; -and then the light rippling dance—</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 77%" id="figure-40"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="music fragment" src="images/img-109.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">music fragment</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>and the two girls were on their feet again, making believe -to posture a little, while the sharp clear notes of the banjo -tinkled and tinkled, amid the steady swishing noise of the -water along the side of the boat. But all of a sudden there -was a startled cry of warning—the banjo was dropped on -the deck, and the Doctor sprung aft in a vain effort to -check what he had seen was coming; the next moment -the great boom came heavily swinging along, accelerating -its pace as it went out to leeward, until there was a frightful -crash that seemed to tear the whole craft to pieces. And -then, in this wild lurch, what had happened? Tilley was -the first to see. There was something in the water. He -tore off his coat and slipped over the boat's side—heeding -nothing of the piercing screams of those he had left, but -shaking the wet from his eyes and nose and mouth, and -looking all around him like a Newfoundland dog. Then -he caught sight of a small floating object—some dozen -yards away—and he made for that: it was the yellow -Tam-o'-Shanter, he could see; then he heard a half-stifled -cry just behind him, and turning round was just able to -catch hold of Carry Hodson before she sank a second -time. However, she was quite passive—perhaps she had -been stunned by a blow from the boom; and he was an -excellent swimmer; and he could easily keep her afloat—if -only Jack Huysen knew enough about sailing to get the -boat back speedily. It was in vain to think of swimming -with her to the shore; the land was too far off; and the -weight of her wet clothes was increasing. He looked after -the boat; it seemed a terrible distance away; but as far -as he could make out—through the water that was blinding -his eyes—they had got her round into the wind again and -were no doubt trying to make for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, Jack Huysen had been so thunderstruck by -what had occurred; when his own carelessness or an awkward -gust of wind had caused the great boom to gybe, that for -some seconds he seemed quite paralysed, and of course all -this time the little craft was swinging along before the -breeze. The shrieks of the women bewildered him, -moreover. And then it occurred to him that he must get -back—somehow, anyhow; and more by instinct than of -knowledge he jammed down the helm, and rounded the -boat into the wind, where the big sail began to flop about -with the loose mainsheet dragging this way and that. And -then he set about trying little experiments—and in a -frantic nervousness all the same; he knew, or he discovered, -that he must needs get in the mainsheet; and eventually -the boat began to make uncertain progress—uncertain, -because he had been terrified, and was afraid to keep -proper way on her, so that she staggered up into the wind -incessantly. But this at all events kept them near the -course they had come; and from time to time she got -ahead a bit; and the women had ceased their shrieking, -and had subsided, the one into a terrified silence, the -other into frantic weeping and clasping of her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Can't you—can't you look out? Why don't you look -out for them?' he cried, though he scarce knew what he -said, so anxious was he about the tiller and those puffs of -wind that made the boat heel over whenever he allowed -the sail to fill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then there was a cry—from Mrs. Lalor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Look—look—this way—you're going away from them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could only judge by the direction of her gaze; he -put the boat about. She began to laugh, in a hysterical -fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh yes, yes, we are getting nearer—we are getting -nearer—he sees us—Em, Em, look!—poor Carry!—Oh, -quick, quick with the boat—quick, quick, quick!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the wringing of her hands was of little avail; and -indeed when they did eventually draw cautiously close -to the two people in the water, the business of getting -them dragged on board proved a difficult and anxious -matter, for the girl was quite unconscious and lay in their -hands like a corpse. The young Doctor was very much -exhausted too; but at least he preserved his senses. He -sat down for a minute to recover his breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Jack,' he gasped, 'put my coat round her—wrap her -warm—Mrs. Lalor, get off her boots and stockings—chafe -her feet and hands—quick.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then he rose and went to where she was lying and -stooped over her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, yes, her heart is beating—come away with that -coat, man.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was his own coat that Jack Huysen had quickly -taken off; and when Carry Hodson was wrapped in it, and -when the women were doing what they could to restore her -circulation, he fetched the other coat for the young Doctor, -and made him put that on, though the latter declared he -was all right now. And then the Doctor took the tiller, -slacked out the mainsheet, and once more they were -running before the wind towards Fort George. Not a word -had been said about the cause of the mishap or its -possible consequences.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These at first—and to Jack Huysen's inexpressible -joy—seemed to be trivial enough. Immediately she had -recovered consciousness she sate up, and began to say a -few words—though with some difficulty; and indeed, so -brave was she, and so determined to do something to -relieve the obvious anxiety of these good friends of hers, -that when at length they reached the landing-stage and got -ashore she declared that she was quite recovered, that she -could walk to the hotel as well as any of them, that she -had never felt better in her born days. Nay, she made a -joke of the whole matter, and of her heavy skirts, and of the -possible contents of Jack Huysen's coat-pockets; and when -they did reach the hotel, and when she had changed her -wet garments, she came down again looking perfectly -well—if a little bit tired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not until the afternoon that she began to -complain of shiverings; and then again, when dinner time -arrived, Mrs. Lalor came down with the message that -Carry had a slight headache, and would rather remain in -her room. Next morning, too, she thought she would -rather not get up; she had a slight cough, and her breathing -was difficult; she had most relief when she lay quite still.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What does this mean, Tom?' Jack Huysen said—and -as if he feared the answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I hope it means nothing at all,' was the reply; but the -young Doctor looked grave, and moved away, as if he did -not wish to have any further talking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, there was no perceptible change for the worse -that day; and Miss Carry, when she could speak at all, -said that she was doing very well, and implored them to go -away on their usual excursions, and leave her to herself. -A servant might sit outside in the passage, she said; if she -wanted her, she could ring. Of course, this only sufficed -to set Emma Kerfoot into a fit of weeping and -sobbing—that Carry should think them capable of any such -heartlessness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But on the following morning matters were much more -serious. She could hardly speak at all; and when she did -manage to utter a few panting words she said it was a pain -in her chest that was troubling her—not much; no, no, -not much, she said; she wished they would all go away -and amuse themselves; the pain would leave; she would -be all right by and by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Jack, look here,' said the young Doctor, when they -were together; 'I'm afraid this is pneumonia—and a sharp -attack too.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is it dangerous?' Huysen said quickly, and with -rather a pale face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The answer to this was another question;</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She left her mother at home, didn't she?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' said he breathlessly. 'Do you want to send for -her? But that would be no use. Her mother could not -travel just now; she's too much of an invalid; why, it was -she who sent Carry away on this holiday.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Her father, then?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, yes, he's at home just now. Shall I telegraph -for him?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No—not yet—I don't want to frighten her. We'll -see in the morning.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But long before the morning came they discovered how -things were going with her. Late that night Mrs. Lalor, -who had undertaken to sit up till her sister should come -to relieve her, stole noiselessly along to the room of the -latter and woke her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Em, darling, who is Ronald?' she whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald? I don't know,' was the answer—for she was -still somewhat confused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Carry is asking that one Ronald should be sent for—do -come and see her, Em—I think she's wandering a little—she -says there's never any luck in the boat except when -Ronald is in it—I don't understand it at all——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But I do—I do now,' said the girl, as she hastily got -up and put a dressing-gown and some wraps around her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And you'll have to send for the Doctor at once, Mary—he -said he would not be in bed till two. She must be in -a fever—that's delirium—if she thinks she is in the -Highlands again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And delirium it was, though of no violent kind. No, -she lay quite placidly; and it was only at times that she -uttered a few indistinct words; but those around her now -perceived that her brain had mixed up this Lake George -with that other Scotch lake they had heard of, and they -guessed that it was about salmon-fishing she was thinking -when she said that it was Ronald that always brought good -luck to the boat.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-challenge"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A CHALLENGE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On the evening of the day on which Agatha Gemmill had -made her portentous discovery about the secret interviews -between her sister and Ronald, Mr. Gemmill—a little, -red-headed man with shrewd blue eyes—came home in very -good spirits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Look here, Aggie—here's an invitation for you,' he -was beginning—when he saw-that something was wrong. -'What is it now?' he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then the story was told him—and not without a -touch of indignation in the telling. But Mr. Gemmill did -not seem so horror-stricken as his wife had expected; she -began to emphasise the various points; and was inclined -to be angry with him for his coolness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Girls often have fancies like that—you know well -enough, Agatha,' he said. 'All you have to do is to take -a gentle way with her, and talk common sense to her, -and it will be all right. If you make a row, you will only -drive her into obstinacy. She will listen to reason; she's -not a fool; if you take a quiet and gentle way with her——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A quiet and gentle way!' his wife exclaimed. 'I will -take no way with her at all—not I! I'm not going to -have any responsibility of the kind. Back she goes to the -Highlands at once—that's all the way I mean to take with -her. See, there's a letter I've written to mother.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then you mean to make a hash of this affair amongst -you,' said he, with calm resignation. 'You will merely -drive the girl into a corner; and her pride will keep her -there——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh yes, men always think that women are so easily -persuaded,' his wife broke in. 'Perhaps you would like -to try arguing with her yourself? But, any way, I wash -my hands of the whole matter. I shall have her packed -off home at once.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't think you will,' the husband said quietly. -'I was going to tell you: the Lauders are giving a big -dinner-party on the 27th—that is a fortnight hence; and -here is an invitation for the three of us; and Frank Lauder -as good as admitted this morning that the thing was got up -for the very purpose of introducing Meenie to the old folk. -Well, then, I have already written and accepted; and I will -tell you this—I'm not going to offend the old gentleman -just because you choose to quarrel with your sister.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Quarrel?' she retorted. 'Oh yes—she never can do -any wrong. She has made a fool of you with her pretty -eyes—as she does to every man that comes to the house. -Why, they're like a set of great babies when she's in the -room; and you would think from the way they go on that -she was the Queen of Sheba—instead of the ill-tempered -little brat she is.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mrs. Gemmill was a sensible woman too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of course we can't offend the old people. She'll have -to stay. But as soon as that is over, off she goes to the -Highlands again; and there she can stop until she has -recovered her senses.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, this invitation was but an additional grievance. -She went with it at once to Meenie's room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Look at that. Read that.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl glanced at the formal note—with no great -interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do you know what that means? That was meant to -introduce you to Frank Lauder's family and friends.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I do not wish to go,' Meenie said perversely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But you'll have to go, for we have accepted for you. -We can't offend and insult people simply because you are -bent on making a fool of yourself. But this is what I want -to say: I had intended sending you back to Inver-Mudal -at once; but now you will have to stay with us another -fortnight. Very well, during that time I forbid you to have -any communication with that man, of any kind whatever—do -you hear?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sate silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do you hear?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, I hear,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Very well.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But it is not very well,' the elder sister said angrily. -'I want to know what you mean to do.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The answer was given with perfect calmness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I mean to do precisely as I have been doing. I am -not ashamed of anything I have done.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What? You are not ashamed? Do you mean to tell -me that you will keep on meeting that man—in the public -streets—making a spectacle of yourself in the streets of -Glasgow—and bringing disgrace on yourself and your -family?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You are talking like a mad woman,' Meenie said proudly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You will see whether I act like one. I say you shall -not be allowed to misconduct yourself while you are under -this roof—that I will make sure of.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What will you do?' the girl said, in a strangely taunting -tone: indeed, one could scarcely have believed that this -was Meenie that was speaking. 'Lock me up in my room? -They only do that in books. Besides, Mr. Gemmill would -prevent your doing anything so ridiculous.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, it's he that would come to let you out?' the elder -sister said. 'You've discovered that, have you? What -more, I wonder!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But here the scene, which threatened to become more -and more stormy, came to a sudden end. There was a -sharp call from below—Mr. Gemmill having doubtless -overheard some of these wild words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Agatha, come downstairs at once!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the girl was left once more alone—proud and pale -and trembling a little, but with her mind more obdurate -than ever. Nor would she go down to supper that night. -Mr. Gemmill went twice to the door of her room (his wife -would not budge a foot) and begged her to come downstairs. -The first time she said she did not wish for any -supper. The second time she said that if her conduct -had been so disgraceful she was not fit to associate with -his family. And so, being by nature a kindly-hearted man, -he went away and got some food for her, and carried the -little tray to her room with his own hands—a proceeding that -only made his wife the angrier. Why should she be spoilt -and petted with such foolish indulgence? Starvation was the -best cure for her pride. But of course he was like the rest -of the men—made simpletons of by a pair of girl's gray eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alas! all her pride and courage went from her in the -long dark hours of the night, and her sister's threats -assumed a more definite and terrible meaning. It was -true she had a fortnight's respite—during that fortnight she -was her own mistress and could do as she pleased—but -after? Would she be shut up in that little hamlet in the -northern wilds, with absolutely no means of learning -anything about Ronald, not permitted to mention his name, -cut off from him as though he were in another world? She -saw month after month go by—or year after year even—with -no word or message coming to keep alive the fond -hope in her breast. He might even be dead without her -knowing. And how all too short this fortnight seemed, -during which she might still have some chance of seeing -him and gaining from him some assurance with regard to a -future that looked more than ever uncertain and vague.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next day it had been arranged between them that -they were not to meet, for he was to be at home all that -day and busy; but her anxiety was too great; she resolved -to go to his lodgings and ask for him. She had never -done that before; but now the crisis was too serious to let -her heed what any one might say—indeed she did not -think for a moment about it. So all the morning she went -about the house, performing such small duties as had been -entrusted to her, and wondering when the heavy rain would -leave off. At last, about noon, when the dismal skies gave -no sign of clearing, she got her ulster and deerstalker's cap, -put on a thick pair of boots, and, armed with a stout -umbrella, went out into the black and dripping world. No -one had attempted to hinder her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet it was with some curious sense of shame that -she timidly rang the bell when she reached these obscure -lodgings. The door was in a dusky entry; the landlady -who answered the summons did not notice how the girl's -cheeks were unusually flushed when she asked if -Mr. Ronald Strang were at home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, he is,' the woman said; and then she hesitated, -apparently not quite knowing whether she should ask the -young lady to step within or not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Will you tell him that I should like to see him for a -moment—here!' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In less than a minute Ronald was with her—and he -had brought his cap in his hand; for he had guessed who -this was; and instinctively he knew that he could not ask -her to come within doors. But when she said she had -something to say to him, and turned to face the dismal day -outside, he could not but glance at the swimming -pavements and the murky atmosphere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'On such a morning, Meenie—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, but I am well wrapped up,' she said, quite happily—for -the mere sight of him had restored her courage, 'and -you shall have the umbrella—yes—I insist—take it—well, -then, I ask you to take it as a favour, for I am not going -to have you get wet on my account.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course he took the umbrella—to hold over her; and -so they went out into the wet streets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am so glad to see you, Ronald,' she said, looking up -with a face that told its own story of joy and confidence; -'don't blame me; I have been miserable; I could not -help coming to ask you for a little—a little comfort, I -think, and hope——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But what have you been doing to your eyes, Meenie, -darling? What kind of a look is that in them?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, I cried all last night—all the night through, I -believe,' said she simply; but there was no more crying -in her eyes, only light and love and gladness. 'And -now, the moment I see you I think I must have been so -foolish. The moment I see you everything seems right; -I am no longer afraid; my heart is quite light and hopeful -again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, and what has been frightening you, then?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then she told him all the story—as they walked -along the wet pavements, with the bedraggled passers-by -hurrying through the rain, and the tramway-cars and -omnibuses and carts and cabs keeping up their unceasing -roar. But Agatha's threats were no longer so terrible to -her—now that she had hold of Ronald's arm; she glanced -up at him from time to time with eyes full of courage -and confidence; a single glimpse of him had driven away -all these dire spectres and phantoms. Indeed, if the truth -were known, it was he who was most inclined to take this -news seriously; though, of course, he did not show that to -her. No; he affected to laugh at the idea that they could -be kept from communicating with each other; if she were -to be sent back to Inver-Mudal, he said, that was only -anticipating what must have happened in any case; it -would no doubt be a pity to miss these few stolen minutes -from time to time; but would not that be merely a spur to -further and constant exertion?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, lass,' said he, 'if I could have any reasonable and -fair prospect to put before them, I would just go to your -friends at once; but all the wishing in the world, and all -the work in the world, will not make next spring come any -the quicker; and until I'm a certificated forester I'm loth -to bother Lord Ailine, or anybody else, about a place. But -what o' that? It's not a long time; and unless -Mr. Weems is making a desperate fool o' me, I've a good -chance; and Lord Ailine will do his best for me among -his friends, that I know well. In the meantime, if they will -not let you write to me——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But, Ronald, how can they help my writing to you, or -coming to see you, if I wish?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I was not thinking of your sister and her folk,' he -answered—and he spoke rather gravely. 'I was thinking -of your father and mother. Well, it is not a nice thing for -a young lass to be in opposition to her own folk; it's a sore -trouble to both sides; and though she may be brave -enough at first, time will tell on her—especially when she -sees her own father and mother suffering through her -defiance of them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then I am not to write to you, Ronald, if they say no?' -she asked quickly, and with her face grown anxious again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, it was a difficult question to answer off-hand; -and the noise in the streets bothered him; and he was -terribly troubled about Meenie having to walk through the -rain and mud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Will you do this for me, Meenie?' he said. 'I cannot -bear to have ye getting wet like this. If we were to get -into an omnibus, now, and go down the town, I know a -restaurant where we could go in and have a comfortable -corner, and be able to talk in peace and quiet. You and -I have never broken bread together, quite by ourselves. -Will you do that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not hesitate for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes—if you think so—if you wish it,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so they went down to the restaurant, which was -rather a big place, cut into small compartments; and one -of these they had to themselves, for it was but half-past -twelve as yet; and by and by a frugal little lunch was -before them. The novelty of the situation was so -amusing—to Meenie at least—that for a time it drove graver -thoughts away altogether. She acted as mistress of the -feast; and would insist on his having this or that; and -wondered that he had never even tasted Worcester sauce; -and was altogether tenderly solicitous about him; whereas -he, on the other hand, wished not to be bothered by any -of these things, and wanted only to know what Meenie -meant to do when she went back to Inver-Mudal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But you must tell me what you would have me do,' -she said timidly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, I don't want you to quarrel with your mother -and father on my account, and be living in constant -wretchedness. If they say you are not to write to me, -don't write——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But you said a little while ago there would be no -difficulty in our hearing from each other,' she said, with -wide open eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have been thinking about it, good lass,' said he, 'and -I don't want you to anger your folk and have a heavy -heart in consequence. In the meantime you must look to -them—you must do what they say. By and by it may be -different; in the meantime I don't want you to get into -trouble——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then it's little you know how this will end, Ronald,' -she said, rather sadly. 'I have thought over it more than -you have. If I go back to Inver-Mudal prepared to do -everything they wish me to do—I mean my mother, not -my father, for I don't know what he might say—then it -isn't only that you will never hear from me, and that I -shall never hear a word from you; there's more than that: -I shall never see you again in this world.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned very pale; and, scarcely knowing what he -did, he stretched his hand over the narrow little table, and -seized her hand, and held it firm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will not let you go, then. I will keep you here in -Glasgow, with me, Meenie. Do you think I can let you go -away for ever? For you are mine. I don't care who says -ay or no; you are mine; my own true-hearted girl; the -man or woman is not born that will sunder us two.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course he had to speak in a low tone; but the grip -of his hand was sufficient emphasis. And then he said, -regarding her earnestly and yet half-hesitatingly—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There is one way that would give you the right to -judge what was best for yourself—that would give you -the right to act or say what you pleased—even to leave -your father's house, if that was necessary. Will you -become my wife, Meenie, before you go back to Inver-Mudal?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She started, as well she might; but he held her hand firm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The thing is simple. There is my brother the minister. -We could walk over to his house, go through the ceremony -in a few minutes, and you could go back to your sister's, -and no one be a bit the wiser. And then surely you would -be less anxious about the future; and if you thought it -right to send me a letter, you would be your own mistress -as to that—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's a terrible thing, Ronald!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't see that, Meenie, dear; I've heard of more -than one young couple taking their fate in their own -hand that way. And there's one thing about it—it "maks -sikker."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had some anxious talk over this sudden -project—he eager, she frightened—until the restaurant began to get -crowded with its usual middle-day customers. Then Ronald -paid his modest score, and they left; and now, as they -made away for the western districts of the city, the day was -clearing up somewhat, and at times a pale silvery gleam -shone along the wet pavements. And still Meenie was -undecided; and sometimes she would timidly steal a glance -at him, as if to assure herself and gain courage; and -sometimes she would wistfully look away along this busy -Sauchiehall Street, as if her future and all the coming years were -somehow at the end of it. As for him, now that he had -hit upon this daring project, he was eager in defence of it; -and urged her to give her consent there and then; and -laboured to prove to her how much happier she would be -at Inver-Mudal—no matter what silence or space of time -might interpose between them—with the knowledge that -this indissoluble bond united them. Meenie remained -silent for the most part, with wistful eyes; but she clung to -his arm as if for protection; and they did not hasten their -steps on their homeward way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they parted she had neither said yes nor no; but -she had promised to write to him that night, and let him -know her decision. And in the morning, he got this brief -message—the handwriting was not a little shaky, but he had -scarcely time to notice that, so rapid was the glance he -threw over the trembling lines:—</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'DEAR RONALD—If it can be done quite, quite -secretly—yes. L.M.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The signature, it may be explained, consisted of the -initials of a pet name that he had bestowed on her. She -had found it first of all in some of those idle verses that he -now copied out for her from time to time; and she had -asked him how he had dared to address her in that way, -while as yet they were but the merest acquaintances. -However, she did not seem very angry.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-wedding"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A WEDDING.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>This golden-radiant city of Glasgow!—with its thousand -thousand activities all awakening to join the noise and din -of the joyous morning, and its over-arching skies full of a -white light of hope and gladness and fair assurance of the -future. The clerks and warehousemen were hurrying by to -their desks and counters; work-folk were leisurely getting -home for their well-earned breakfast; smart young men and -slim-waisted women were already setting the shop windows -to rights; great lorries were clattering their loads of long -iron bars through the crowded streets; and omnibuses and -tramway-cars and railway-trains were bringing in from all -points of the compass their humming freight of eager human -bees to this mighty and dusky hive. But dusky it did not -appear to him, as he was speedily making his way across -the town towards his brother's house. It was all transfigured -and glorified—the interminable thoroughfares, the -sky-piercing chimneys, the masses of warehouses, the overhead -network of telegraph-lines, the red-funnelled steamers moving -slowly away through the pale blue mist of the Broomielaw: -all these were spectral in a strange kind of way, and yet -beautiful; and he could not but think that the great mass -of this busy multitude was well content with the pleasant -morning, and the nebulous pale-golden sunlight, and the -glimpses of long cirrus cloud hanging far above the city's -smoke. For the moment he had ceased to hang his happiness -on the chance of his succeeding with the Highland and -Agricultural Society. Something far more important—and -wonderful—was about to happen. He was about to secure -Meenie to himself for ever and ever. Not a certificate in -forestry, but Meenie's marriage-lines—that was what would -be in his pocket soon! And after?—well, the long months, -or even years, might have to go by; and she might be far -enough away from him, and condemned to silence—but -she would be his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, just as he had reached the south side of the -river, he paused—paused abruptly, as if he had been struck. -For it had suddenly occurred to him that perhaps, after all, -this fine project was not feasible. He had been all intent -on gaining Meenie's acquiescence; and, having got that, -had thought of nothing but winning over the Reverend -Andrew into being an accomplice; but now he was quickly -brought up by this unforeseen obstacle—could Meenie, not -being yet twenty-one, go through even this formal -ceremony without the consent of her parents? It seemed to -him that she could not—from his reading of books. He -knew nothing of the marriage law of Scotland; but it -appeared to him, from what he could recollect of his reading, -that a girl under twenty-one could not marry without her -parents' consent. And this was but the letting in of waters. -There were all kinds of other things—the necessity of having -lived a certain time in this or that parish; the proclamation -of banns—which would be merely an invitation to her -relatives to interfere; and so on. He resumed his walk; but -with less of gay assurance. He could only endeavour to -fortify himself with the reflection that in the one or two -instances of which he had heard of this very thing being -done the young people had been completely successful and -had kept their secret until they judged the time fitting for -the disclosing of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he reached his brother's house, the Reverend -Andrew was in his study, engaged in the composition of the -following Sunday's sermon; he was seated at a little table -near the fire; a pot of tea on the chimney-piece; a large -Bible and Cruden's Concordance lying open on the sofa -beside him. The heavy, bilious-hued man rose leisurely, -and rubbed his purplish hands, and put them underneath -his coat-tails, as he turned his back to the fire, and stood -on the hearth-rug, regarding his brother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, Ronald, lad, ye're not frightened for a cold -morning, to come out with a jacket like that.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The morning's well enough,' said Ronald briefly; and -forthwith he laid before his brother the errand on which he -had come, and besought his assistance, if that were -practicable. He told the story simply and concisely; not -pleading any justification; but rather leaving the facts to speak -for themselves. And would his brother help?—in other -words, supposing there were no other obstacle in the way, -would Andrew perform this ceremony for them, and so -render their future proof against all contingencies? He -was not asked for any advice; he was not asked to assume -any responsibility; would he merely exercise this clerical -function of his on their behalf—seeing how urgent matters were?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Reverend Andrew was very much puzzled, not to say -perturbed. He began to walk up and down the room; his -head bent forward, his hands still underneath his coat-tails.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You put me in a box, Ronald, and that's a fact,' said -he. 'I'm thinking my wishes as a brother will be for -setting themselves up against my duty as a minister of the -Gospel. For I dare not counsel any young girl to defy the -authority of her own people——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She has not asked you for any counsel,' Ronald said -curtly. 'And besides we don't know what the authority -might be. I dare say, if her father knew all the -circumstances, he would be on our side; and I suppose he has as -much right to speak as her little spitfire of a mother.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was hard on Mrs. Douglas, who had always treated -Ronald with courtesy—if of a lofty and distant kind; but -impetuous young people, when their own interests are at -stake, are seldom just to their elders. However, the -Reverend Andrew now began to say that, if he were -altogether an outsider, nothing would give him greater pleasure -than to see this wish of his brother's accomplished. He -had observed much, he said; he had heard more; he -knew the saving influence that this girl had exercised on -Ronald's life; he could pray for nothing better than that -these two should be joined in lawful bonds, towards the -strengthening of each other, and the establishment of a -mutual hope and trust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But it would never do for me to be mixed up in it, -Ronald,' he continued. 'When it came to be known, think -of what ill-minded folk might say. I must have regard to -my congregation as well as to myself; and what if they -were to accuse me of taking part in a conspiracy?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A conspiracy?' Ronald repeated sharply. 'What -kind of a conspiracy? To steal away a rich heiress—is -that it? God bless me, the lass has nothing beyond what -she stands up in! There's the sealskin coat Glengask gave -her; they can have that back, and welcome. What -conspiracy would ye make out?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no, lad; I'm thinking what ill tongues might say.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let them lick their own venom till they rot! What -care I?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, yes, yes, lad; but ye're not a placed minister; -ye've but yourself and her to think of. Now, just wait -a bit.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had gone back to his chair by the fire, and was -seated there, staring into the red coals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I suppose you've heard of Dugald Mannering, of -Airdrie?' he said, at length.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, indeed,' was the answer. 'Meenie—that is—Miss -Douglas and I went to hear him the Sunday before -last, but there was not a seat to be got anywhere—no, nor -standing-room either.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This Mr. Mannering was a young divine of the U.P. Church -who had an extraordinary popularity at this time -among the young people of the south of Scotland, and -especially the young people of Glasgow, and that from a variety -of causes. He was a singularly eloquent preacher—flowing, -ornate, and poetical; he was entirely unconventional, not to -say daring, in his choice of subjects; his quotations were -as commonly from Shakespeare and Coleridge and Byron -and Browning as from the usual pulpit authorities; he was -exceedingly handsome, and rather delicate-looking—pale -and large-eyed and long-haired; and he had refused the -most flattering offers—'calls' is the proper word—from -various west-end congregations of Glasgow, because he -considered it his duty to remain among the mining-folk of -Airdrie. When he did accept an invitation to preach in -this or that city church, the young people from far and -near came flocking to hear him; and a good many of their -elders too, though these were not without certain prickings -of conscience as to the propriety of devoting the Lord's day -to what was remarkably like a revel in pure literature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dugald's coming over here this afternoon,' the elder -brother continued, as if he were communing with himself. -'He's an enthusiastic kind of fellow—he'll stick at nothing, -if he thinks it's right. I wish, now, I had that -portrait—but Maggie's away to school by this time——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What portrait?' Ronald asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Reverend Andrew did not answer, but rose, and -slowly and thoughtfully left the room. When he came back -he had in his hand a photograph of Meenie framed in a -little frame of crimson velvet, and that he put on the table: -Ronald recognised it swiftly enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He has got an eye for a handsome young lass, has -Dugald,' the minister said shrewdly. 'I'll just have that -lying about, as it were. Ay, it's a straightforward, frank -face, that; and one that has nothing to hide. I'll just -have it lying about when Dugald comes over this -afternoon, and see if he doesna pick it up and have a good -look at it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But what mean ye, Andrew?' his brother said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, then, lad, I think I'll just tell Dugald the whole -story; and if he's not as hot-headed as any of ye to carry -the thing through, I'll be surprised. And I suppose if he -marries ye, that's just as good as any one else?—for to -tell you the truth, Ronald, I would rather not be mixed up -in it myself.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And the banns?' said Ronald quickly. 'And the -length of time in the parish? And the consent of her -mother and father?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The minister waved his hand with a superior air; these -were trivial things, not to say popular errors; what had -been of real consequence was the extent to which he dared -implicate himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will not say,' he observed slowly, 'that I might not, -in other circumstances, have preferred the publication of -banns. It would have been more in order, and more -seemly; for I do not like the interference of the secular -arm in what should be a solely sacred office. Besides that, -there is even a premium put on publicity, as is right; five -shillings for the one proclamation, but only half-a-crown if -you have them proclaimed two following Sundays. Well, -well, we mustn't complain; I see sufficient reason; from -all I can learn—and you were ever a truth-teller, Ronald, -in season and out of season, as well I mind—it seems to -me you are fulfilling the laws of God, and breaking none of -man's making; so just you go to the Registrar of the parish, -and give him the particulars, and deposit a half-crown as -the worthy man's fee, and then, eight days hence, you call -on him again, and he'll give you a certificate entitling you -to be married in any house or church in the Kingdom of -Scotland. And if there's no other place handy, ye're -welcome to the room you're standing in at this minute; though -I would as lief have the marriage take place anywhere else, -and that's the truth, Ronald; for although I can defend -what little I have done to my own conscience, I'm no sure -I should like to stand against the clishmaclavers of a lot of -old wives.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where am I to find the Registrar, Andrew?' he asked: -he was a little bewildered by the rapidity with which this -crisis seemed approaching.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I suppose you've a good Scotch tongue in your head, -and can ask for the loan of a Directory,' was the laconic -answer. The Reverend Andrew had taken up the photograph -again, and was regarding it. 'An honest, sweet face; -as pretty a lass as ever a man was asked to work and strive -for and to win. Well, I do not wonder, Ronald, lad—with -such a prize before you—— But off you go now, for I -must get to my work again; and if you come over and have -a cup of tea in the afternoon, between four and five, I -suppose Dugald Mannering will be here, and maybe ye'll be -the best hand to explain the whole situation of affairs.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so Ronald left to seek out the Registrar; and as -he went away through the busy and sunlit streets, he was -asking himself if there was not one of all those people who -could guess the secret that he carried with him in his bosom, -and that kept his heart warm there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Rev. Dugald Mannering, as it turned out, was not -nearly so eager and enthusiastic as Ronald's brother had -prophesied; for it behoves a youthful divine to maintain a -serious and deliberative countenance, when weighty matters -are put before him for judgment. But afterwards, when the -two young men were together walking away home through -the dusky streets of Glasgow, the U.P. minister became -much more frank and friendly and communicative.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I see your brother's position well enough, Mr. Strang,' -said he. 'I can understand his diffidence; and it is but -right that he should be anxious not to give the envious and -ill-natured a chance of talking. He is willing to let the -ceremony take place in his house, because you are his -brother. If I were you, I would rather have it take place -anywhere else—both as being fairer to him, and as being -more likely to ensure secrecy, which you seem to think -necessary.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ronald's face burned red: should he have to ask Meenie -to come to his humble lodgings, with the wondering, and -perhaps discontented and suspicious, landlady, as sole -on-looker?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, now,' the young preacher continued, 'when I -come to Glasgow, there are two old maiden aunts of mine -who are good enough to put me up. They live in Rose -Street, Garnethill; and they're very kind old people. Now -I shouldn't wonder at all if they took it into their head to -befriend the young lady on this occasion—I mean, if you -will allow me to mention the circumstances to them; indeed, -I am sure they would; probably they would be delighted; -indeed I can imagine their experiencing a fearful joy on -finding this piece of romance suddenly tumbling into the -middle of their prim and methodical lives. The dear old -creatures!—I will answer for them. I will talk to them as -soon as I get home now. And do you think you could -persuade Miss Douglas to call on them?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ronald hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If they were to send her a message, perhaps——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'When are you likely to see her?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To-morrow morning, at eleven,' he said promptly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Very well. I will get one of the old ladies to write a -little note to Miss Douglas; and I will post it to you -to-night; and to-morrow morning, if she is so inclined, bring -her along and introduce yourself and her—will you? I shall -be there, so there won't be any awkwardness; and I would -not hurry you, but I've to get back to Airdrie to-morrow -afternoon. Is it a bargain?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So far as I am concerned—yes; and many thanks to -ye,' Ronald said, as he bade his companion good-bye and -went away home to his solitary lodgings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when, the next morning, in Randolph Terrace—and -after he had rapidly told her all that had happened—he -suggested that she should there and then go along and call -on the Misses Mannering, Meenie started back in a kind of -fright, and a flush of embarrassment overspread her face. -And why—why—he asked, in wonder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, Ronald,' she said, glancing hurriedly at her costume, -'these—these are the first of your friends you have asked me -to go to see, and do you think I could go like </span><em class="italics">this</em><span>?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'</span><em class="italics">This</em><span>' meant that she had on a plain and serviceable -ulster, a smart little hat with a ptarmigan's wing on it, -a pair of not over-new gloves, and so forth. Ronald -was amazed. He considered that Meenie was always a -wonder of neatness and symmetry, no matter how she was -attired. And to think that any one might find fault with her!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Besides, they're not my friends,' he exclaimed. 'I -never saw them in my life.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They know who your brother is,' she said. 'Do you -think I would give any one occasion to say you were -marrying a slattern? Just look.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held out her hands; the gloves were certainly worn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Take them off, and show them the prettiest-shaped -hands in Glasgow town,' said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And my hair—I know it is all rough and untidy—isn't -it now?' she said, feeling about the rim of her hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, it is a little,' he confessed, 'only it's far prettier -that way than any other.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald,'she pleaded, 'some other time—on Friday -morning—will Friday morning do?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, I know what you want,' said he. 'You want to -go and get on your sealskin coat and your velvet hat and a -new pair of gloves and all the rest; and do you know what -the old ladies are like to say when they see you?—they'll -say, "Here's a swell young madam to be thinking of marrying -a man that may have but a couple o' pounds a week or -so at first to keep house on."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, will they think that?' she said quickly. 'Well, -I'll—I'll go now, Ronald—but please make my hair smooth -behind—and is my collar all right?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet it was not such a very dreadful interview, after -all; for the two old dames made a mighty fuss over this -pretty young creature; and vied with each other in petting -her, and cheering her, and counselling her; and when the -great event was spoken of in which they also were to play -a part they affected to talk in a lower tone of voice, as if it -were something mysterious and tragic and demanding the -greatest caution and circumspection. As for the young -minister, he sate rather apart, and allowed his large soft eyes -to dwell upon Meenie, with something of wistfulness in his -look. He could do so with impunity, in truth, for the old -ladies entirely monopolised her. They patted her on the -shoulder, to give her courage; they spoke as if they -themselves had gone through the wedding ceremony a hundred -times. Was she sure she would rather have no other -witnesses? Would she stand up at the head of the room -now, and they would show her all she would have to do? -And they stroked her hand; and purred about her; and -were mysteriously elated over their share in this romantic -business; insomuch that they altogether forgot Ronald—who -was left to talk politics with the absent-eyed young -parson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Between this interview and the formal wedding a whole -week had to elapse; and during that time Agatha Gemmill -saw fit to deal in quite a different way with her sister. She -was trying reason now, and persuasion, and entreaty; and -that at least was more agreeable to Meenie than being -driven into a position of angry antagonism. Moreover, -Meenie did not seek to vaunt her self-will and independence -too openly. Her meetings with Ronald were few; -and she made no ostentatious parade of them. She was -civil to Mr. Frank Lauder when he came to the house. -Indeed, Mr. Gemmill, who arrogated to himself the success -of this milder method of treating the girl, was bold enough -to declare that everything was going on well; Meenie had -as much common sense as most folk; she was not likely -to throw herself away; and when once she had seen old -Mr. Lauder's spacious mansion, and picture galleries, and -what not, and observed the style in which the family lived, -he made do doubt but that they would soon have to -welcome Frank Lauder as a brother-in-law.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Trembling, flushed at times, and pale at others, and -clinging nervously to Ronald's arm, Meenie made her way -up this cold stone staircase in Garnethill, and breathless -and agitated she stood on the landing, while he rang the -bell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, Ronald, I hope I am doing right,' she murmured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We will let the future be the judge of that, my good -girl,' he said, with modest confidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old dames almost smothered her with their -attentions and kindness; and they had a bouquet for her—all -in white, as became a bride; and they had prepared other -little nick-nacks for her adornment, so that they had to -carry her off to their own room, for the donning of these. -And when they brought her back—rose-red she was, and -timid, and trembling—each of them had one of her hands, -as if she was to be their gift to give away; and very -important and mysterious were they about the shutting of the -doors, and the conducting the conversation in whispers. -Then the minister came forward, and showed them with -a little gesture of his hand where they should stand before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ceremonial of a Scotch wedding is of the simplest; -but the address to the young people thus entering life -together may be just anything you please. And in truth -there was a good deal more of poetry than of theology in -these mellifluent sentences of the Rev. Mr. Mannering's, as -he spoke of the obligations incurred by two young folk -separating themselves from all others and resolved upon -going through the world's joys and sorrows always side by -side; and the old dames were much affected; and when -he went on to quote the verses</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'And on her lover's arm she leant,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And round her waist she felt it fold,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And far across the hills they went</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In that new world which is the old,'</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>they never thought of asking whether the lines were quite -apposite; they were sobbing unaffectedly and profusely; -and Meenie's eyes were rather wet too. And then, when it -was all over, they caught her to their arms as if she had -been their own; and would lead her to the sofa, and -overwhelm her with all kinds of little attentions and caresses. -Cake and wine, too—of course she must have some cake -and wine!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Should I, Ronald?' she said, looking up, with her eyes -all wet and shining and laughing: it was her first appeal to -the authority of her husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'As you like—as you like, surely.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when they came to him he gently refused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not on your wedding day!' the old ladies exclaimed—and -then he raised the glass to his lips; and they did not -notice that he had not touched it when he put it down again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so these two were married now—whatever the -future might have in store for them; and in a brief space -of time—as soon, indeed, as she could tear herself away -from these kind friends, she had dispossessed herself of -her little bits of bridal finery; and had bade a long and -lingering good-bye to Ronald; and was stealing back to -her sister's house.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-darkened-ways"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN DARKENED WAYS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was with feelings not to be envied that Jack Huysen -stalked up and down the verandah in front of this Fort -George hotel, or haunted the long, echoing corridors, eager -to question any one who had access to the sick room. All -the mischief seemed to be of his doing; all the help and -counsel and direction in this time of distress seemed to be -afforded by his friend Tilley. It was he—that is, -Huysen—whose carelessness had led to the boating catastrophe; -it was the young Doctor who had plunged into the lake -and saved Carry's life. Not only that, but it was on his -shoulders that there now seemed to rest the burden of -saving her a second time; for she had gone from bad to -worse; the fever had increased rapidly; and while Doctor -Tilley was here, there, and everywhere in his quiet but -persistent activity, taking elaborate precautions about the -temperature of the room, instructing the two trained nurses -whom he had telegraphed for from New York, and pacifying -the mental vagaries of the patient as best he might, -what could Jack Huysen do but wander about like an -uneasy spirit, accusing himself of having wrought all this -evil, and desperately conscious that he could be of no use -whatever in mitigating its results.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was not always delirious. For the most part she lay -moaning slightly, breathing with the greatest difficulty, and -complaining of that constant pain in her chest; while her -high pulse and temperature told how the fever was rather -gaining upon her than abating. But then again, at times, -her face would grow flushed; and the beautiful soft black -eyes would grow strangely bright; and she would talk in -panting whispers, in an eager kind of way, and as if she -had some secret to tell. And always the same delusion -occupied her mind—that this was Loch Naver; that they -had got into trouble somehow, because Ronald was not -in the boat; that they had sent for Ronald, but he -had gone away; and so forth. And sometimes she -uttered bitter reproaches; Ronald had been ill-treated by -some one; nay, she herself had been to blame; and who -was to make up to him for what he had suffered at her -hands?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not that he cared,' she said, rather proudly and -contemptuously, one hushed evening that the Doctor was -trying to soothe her into quietude. 'No, no. Ronald care -what a conceited scribbling schoolboy said about him? -No! I should think not. Perhaps he never knew—indeed, -I think he never knew. He never knew that all our friends -in Chicago were asked to look on and see him lectured, -and patronised, and examined. Oh! so clever the -newspaper-writer was—with his airs of criticism and patronage! -But the coward that he was—the coward—to strike in the -dark—to sit in his little den and strike in the dark! Why -didn't Jack Huysen drag him out? Why didn't he make -him sign his name, that we could tell who this was with his -braggart airs? The coward! Why, Ronald would have -felled him! No! no! He would not have looked the -way the poor pretentious fool was going. He would have -laughed. Doctor, do you know who he was? Did you -ever meet him?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But who, Miss Carry?' he said, as he patted her hot hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him wonderingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, don't you know? Did you never hear? The -miserable creature that was allowed to speak ill of our -Ronald. Ah! do you think I have forgotten? Does -Jack Huysen think I have forgotten? No, I will not -forget—you can tell him, I will not forget—I will not -forget—I will not forget—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was growing more and more vehement; and to -pacify her he had to assure her that he himself would see -this matter put straight; and that it was all right, and that -ample amends would be made.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course, he paid no great attention to these delirious -wanderings; but that same evening, when he had gone -into the smoking-room to report to Jack Huysen how -things were going, this complaint of Miss Carry's happened -to recur to his mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Look here, Jack, what's this that she's always talking -about—seems to worry her a good deal—some newspaper -article—and you're mixed up in it, too—something you -appear to have said or done about that fellow her father -took such a fancy for—I mean, when they were in Scotland——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, I know,' said the editor, and he blushed to the -very roots of his long-flowing hair. 'I know. But it's an -old story. It's all forgotten now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, it is not,' the young Doctor said 'and that's the -fact. She worries about it continually. Very strange, now, -how her mind just happened to take that bent. I don't -remember that we were talking much about the Scotch -Highlands. But they must have been in her head when -she fell ill; and now it's nothing else. Well, what is it -about the newspaper article, anyway?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, nothing to make a fuss about,' Jack Huysen said, -but rather uneasily. 'I thought it was all forgotten. She -said as much. Wonder you don't remember the article—suppose -you missed it—but it was about this same Highland -fellow, and some verses of his—it was young Regan -wrote it—confound him, I'd have kicked him into Lake -Michigan before I let him write a line in the paper, if I'd -have known there was going to be this trouble about it. -And I don't think now there was much to find fault with—I -only glanced over it before sending it to her, and it -seemed to me favourable enough—of course, there was a -little of the </span><em class="italics">de haut en bas</em><span> business—you know how young -fellows like to write—but it was favourable—very favourable, -I should say—however, she chose to work up a pretty -high old row on the strength of it when she came home, -and I had my work cut out for me before I could pacify -her. Why, you don't say she's at that again? Women -are such curious creatures; they hold on to things so; I -wonder, now, why it is she takes such an interest in that -fellow—after all this time?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Just as likely as not the merest coincidence—some -trifle that got hold of her brain when she first became -delirious,' the young Doctor said. 'I suppose the boating, -and the lake, and all that, brought back recollections of the -Highlands; and she seems to have been fascinated by the -life over there—the wildness of it caught her imagination, -I suppose. She must have been in considerable danger -once or twice, I should guess; or perhaps she is mixing -that up with the mishap of the other day. Well, I know I -wish her father were here. We can't do more than what -is being done; still, I wish he were here. If he can get -through to Glen Falls to-night, you may depend on it he'll -come along somehow.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time Jack Huysen was nervously pacing up -and down—there was no one but themselves in the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, look here, Tom,' he said, presently, 'I wish you -would tell me, honour bright: was it a squall that caught -the boat, or was it downright carelessness on my part? I -may as well know. I can't take more shame to myself -anyhow—and to let you jump in after her, too, when I'm a -better swimmer than you are—I must have lost my head -altogether——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And much good you'd have done if you had jumped -in,' the Doctor said, 'and left the two women to manage -the boat. How should we have got picked up, then?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But about that gybing, now—was it my fault?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, it was mine,' the Doctor said curtly. 'I shouldn't -have given up the tiller. Fact is, the girls were just mad -about that "Dancing in the Barn"; and I was fool -enough to yield to them. I tell you, Jack, it isn't half as -easy as it looks steering a boat that's running fair before -the wind; I don't blame you at all; I dare say there was -a nasty puff that caught you when you weren't looking; -anyhow, it's a blessing no one was hit by the boom—that -was what I feared at first for Miss Hodson when I found -her insensible—I was afraid she had been hit about the -head——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And you don't think it was absolute carelessness?' the -other said quickly. 'Mind, I was steering straight for the -pier, as you said.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, well,' said the young Doctor evasively, 'if you had -noticed in time, you know—or when I called to you—but -perhaps it was too late then. It's no use going back on -that now; what we have to do now is to fight this fever as -well as we can.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I would take it over from her if I could,' Jack Huysen -said, 'and willingly enough.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not until early the next morning that Mr. Hodson -arrived. He looked dreadfully pale and harassed and -fatigued; for the fact was he was not in Chicago when -they telegraphed for him; some business affairs had called -him away to the south; and the news of his daughter's -illness followed him from place to place until it found -him in a remote corner of Louisiana, whence he had -travelled night and day without giving himself an hour's -rest. And now he would not stay to dip his hands and -face in cold water after his long and anxious journey; -he merely asked a few hurried questions of the Doctor; -and then, stealthily and on tip-toe, and determined to -show no sign of alarm or perturbation, he went into -Carry's room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had been very delirious during the night—talking -wildly and frantically in spite of all their efforts to soothe -her; but now she lay exhausted, with the flushed face, and -bluish lips, and eager, restless eyes so strangely unlike the -Carry of other days. She recognised him at once—but -not as a new-comer: she appeared to think he had been -there all the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Have you seen him, pappa?' she said, in that eager -way. 'Did you see him when you were out?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who, darling?' he said, as he sate down beside her -and took her wasted hand in his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, Ronald, to be sure! Oh, something dreadful -was about to happen to him—I don't know what it -was—something dreadful and dreadful—and I called out—at the -window—at the window there—and nurse says it is all -right now—all right now——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh yes, indeed,' her father said gently, 'you may -depend it is all right with Ronald now. Don't you fret -about that.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, but we neglected him, pappa, we neglected him; -and I worst of any,' she went on, in that panting, -breathless way. 'It was always the same—always thinking of -doing something for him, and never doing it. I meant to -have written to the innkeeper for his address in Glasgow; -but no—that was forgotten too. And then the spliced rod, -that George was to have got for me—I wanted Ronald to -have the best salmon-rod that America could make—but -it was all talking—all talking. Ah, it was never talking -with him when he could do us a service—and the other -boatmen getting money, of course—and he scarcely a -"thank you" when we came away. Why didn't George -get the fishing-rod?——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's all right, Carry, darling,' her father said, whispering -to her, 'you lie quiet now, and get well, and you'll see -what a splendid salmon-rod we'll get for Ronald. Not that -it would be of much use to him, you see, when he's in -Glasgow with his books and studies; but it will show him we -have not forgotten him. Don't you trouble about it, now; -I will see it is all right; and you will give it to him -yourself, if we go over there next spring, to try the -salmon-fishing again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then you will take George with you, pappa,' she said, -regarding him with her burning eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh yes; and you——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not me, not me,' she said, shaking her head. 'I am -going away. The Doctor doesn't know; I know. They -have been very kind; but—but—ask them, pappa, not to -bother me to take things now—I want to be let alone, now -you are here—it will only be for a little while——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, what nonsense you talk!' he said—but his heart -was struck with a sudden fear, for these few straggling -sentences she had uttered without any appearance of delirium. -'I tell you, you must hasten to get well and strong; for when -George and you and I go to Scotland, there will be a great -deal of travelling to do. You know we've got to fix on that -piece of land, and see how it is all to be arranged and -managed, so that George will have a comfortable little estate -of his own when he comes of age; or maybe, if it is a pretty -place, we may be selfish and keep it in our own hands—eh, -Carry?—and then, you see, we shall have to have Ronald -travel about with us, to give us his advice; and the weather -may be bad, you know, you'll have to brace yourself up. -There, now, I'm not going to talk to you any more just -now. Lie still and quiet; and mind you do everything the -Doctor bids you—why, you to talk like that!—you! I -never thought you would give in, Carry: why, even as a -schoolgirl you had the pluck of a dozen! Don't you give -in; and you'll see if we haven't those two cobles out on -Loch Naver before many months are over.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head languidly; her eyes were closed -now. And he was for slipping out of the room but that -she clung to his hand for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Pappa,' she said, in a low voice, and she opened her -eyes and regarded him—and surely at this moment, as he -said to himself, she seemed perfectly sane and reasonable, -'I want you to promise me something.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, yes,' he said quickly: what was it he would not -have promised in order to soothe and quiet her mind at -such a time?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't know about going with you and George,' she -said, slowly, and apparently with much difficulty. 'It seems -a long way off—a long time—and—and I hardly care now -what happens. But you will look after Ronald; you must -promise me that, pappa; and tell him I was sorry; I -suppose he heard the shooting was taken, and would know why -we did not go over in the autumn; but you will find him -out, pappa, and see what he is doing; and don't let him -think we forgot him altogether.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Carry, darling, you leave that to me; it will be all right -with Ronald, I promise you,' her father said eagerly. 'Why, -to think you should have been worrying about that! Oh! you -will see it will be all right about Ronald, never -fear!—what would you say, now, if I were to telegraph to him to -come over and see you, if only you make haste and get well?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These assurances, at all events, seemed to pacify her -somewhat; and as she now lay still and quiet, her father -stole out of the room, hoping that perhaps the long-prayed-for -sleep might come to calm the fevered brain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the slow hours passed, and, so far from any improvement -becoming visible, her condition grew more and more -serious. The two doctors—for Doctor Tilley had summoned -in additional aid—were assiduous enough; but, when -questioned, they gave evasive answers; and when Mr. Hodson -begged to be allowed to telegraph to a celebrated -Boston physician, who was also a particular friend of his -own, asking him to come along at once, they acquiesced, it -is true, but it was clearly with the view of satisfying -Mr. Hodson's mind, rather than with any hope of advantage to -the patient. From him, indeed, they scarcely tried to conceal -the extreme gravity of the case. Emma Kerfoot and -Mrs. Lalor were quieted with vague assurances; but Mr. Hodson -knew of the peril in which his daughter lay; and, as it was -impossible for him to go to sleep, and as his terrible anxiety -put talking to these friends out of the question, he kept -mostly to his own room, walking up and down, and fearing -every moment lest direr news should arrive. For they had -been much of companions, these two; and she was an -only daughter; and her bright, frank, lovable character—that -he had watched from childhood growing more and -more beautiful and coming into closer communion with -himself as year after year went by—had wound its tendrils -round his heart. That Carry, of all people in the world, -should be taken away from them so, seemed so strange and -unaccountable: she that was ever so full of life and gaiety -and confidence. The mother had been an invalid during -most of her married life; the boy George had not the -strongest of constitutions; but Carry was always to the fore -with her audacious spirits and light-heartedness, ready for -anything, and the best of travelling companions. And if -she were to go, what would his life be to him?—the light -of it gone, the gladness of it vanished for ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That afternoon the delirium returned; and she became -more and more wildly excited; until the paroxysm passed -beyond all bounds. She imagined that Ronald was in -some deadly peril; he was alone, with no one to help; his -enemies had hold of him; they were carrying him off, to -thrust him into some black lake; she could hear the waters -roaring in the dark. It was in vain that the nurse tried to -calm her and to reason with her; the wild, frightened eyes -were fixed on vacancy; and again and again she made as -if she would rush to his help, and would then sink back -exhausted and moaning, and heaping reproaches on those -who were allowing Ronald to be stricken down unaided. -Then the climax came, quite unexpectedly. The nurse—who -happened at the moment to be alone with her in the -room—went to the side-table for some more ice; and she -was talking as she went; and trying to make her charge -believe that everything was going on well enough with this -friend of hers in Scotland. But all of a sudden, when the -nurse's back was thus turned, the girl sprang from the bed -and rushed to the window. She tore aside the curtains -that had been tied together to deaden the light; she tugged -and strained at the under sash; she was for throwing -herself out—to fly to Ronald's succour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See, see, see!' she cried, and she wrenched herself -away from the nurse's frightened grasp. 'Oh, don't you -see that they are killing him—they are killing him—and -none to help! Ronald—Ronald! Oh, what shall I do? -Nurse, nurse, help me with the window—quick—quick—oh, -don't you hear him calling?—and they are driving him -down to the lake—he will be in the water soon—and -lost—lost—lost—Ronald!—Ronald!—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nay, by this time she had actually succeeded in raising -the under sash of the window a few inches—notwithstanding -that the nurse clung round her, and tried to hold her arms, -while she uttered shriek after shriek to call attention; and -there is no doubt that the girl, grown quite frantic, would -have succeeded in opening the window and throwing herself -out, had not Mrs. Lalor, alarmed by the shrieking of the -nurse, rushed in. Between them they got her back into -bed; and eventually she calmed down somewhat; for, -indeed, this paroxysm had robbed her of all her remaining -strength. She lay in a kind of stupor now; she paid no -heed to anything that was said to her; only her eyes were -restless—when any one entered the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Tilley was with her father; the younger man was -apparently calm, though rather pale; Mr. Hodson made -no effort to conceal his agony of anxiety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I can only tell you what is our opinion,' the young -Doctor said, speaking for himself and his brother -practitioner. 'We should be as pleased as you could be to have -Dr. Macartney here; but the delay—well, the delay might -prove dangerous. Her temperature is 107—you know what -that means?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But this rolling up in a wet sheet—there is a risk, isn't -there?' the elder man said; and how keenly he was watching -the expression of the young Doctor's face!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have only seen it used in extreme cases,' was the -answer. 'If she were my own daughter, or sister, that is -what I would do.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You have a right to speak—you have already saved -her life once,' her father said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If we could only bring about a profuse perspiration,' -the young Doctor said, a little more eagerly—for he had -been maintaining a professionally dispassionate manner; -'and then if that should end in a long deep sleep—everything -would go well then. But at present every hour that -passes is against us—and her temperature showing no sign -of abating.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Very well,' her father said, after a moment's involuntary -hesitation. 'If you say the decision rests with me, I will -decide. We will not wait for Macartney. Do what you -propose to do—I know you think it is for the best.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so it proved. Not once, but twice, within a space -of seven days, had this young Doctor saved Carry Hodson's -life. That evening they were all seated at dinner in the big -dining-hall—Mrs. Lalor and her sister, Jack Huysen, and -Carry's father—though the food before them did not seem -to concern them much. They were talking amongst themselves, -but rather absently and disconnectedly; and, what was -strange enough, they spoke in rather low tones, as if that -were of any avail. Dr. Tilley came in, and walked quickly -up to the table; and quite unwittingly he put his hand on -Emma Kerfoot's shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have good news,' said he, and there was a kind of -subdued triumph in his eyes. 'She is sleeping as soundly—as -soundly as any human being ever slept—everything has come -off well—why, I am as happy as if I had been declared -President!' But instantly he perceived that this exuberance of -triumph was not in accordance with professional gravity. 'I -think there is every reason to be satisfied with the prospect,' -he continued in more measured tones, 'and now that -Dr. Sargent is with her, and the night nurse just come down, I -think I will take the opportunity to get something to eat—for -I have forgotten about that since breakfast.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, Tom!' cried Miss Kerfoot reproachfully; and -presently everybody at the table was showering attentions -on this young man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And may I go in and see her now?' said Miss Kerfoot, -preparing to steal away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' was the peremptory answer. 'No one. Every -half hour of a sleep like that is worth its weight in -gold—well, that's a muddle, but you know what I mean. It's -worth a cart-load of gold, anyway. I hope she'll go on for -twenty-four hours, or thirty-six, for the matter of that. Oh, -I can tell you it is quite refreshing to look at her—talk -about the sleep of an infant!—you never saw an infant -sleeping as deep and sound as that; and I shouldn't -wonder now if her temperature were down another degree -by midnight.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he saw that Mr. Hodson was still terribly agitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, sir, would you like to go in and see her for a -moment? I have told the nurse to leave the door half an -inch open, and there's a screen to keep off the draught; I -dare say we can slip in without disturbing her.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so it was that Mr. Hodson saw his daughter again—not -with flushed cheeks and dilated eye, but lying still -and calm, a very weight of sleep appearing to rest on her -eyelids. And when he came out of the room again, he -pressed the young man's hand—it was a message of thanks -too deep for words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All that night she slept; and all next day she slept, -without a moment's intermission. When, at length, she -opened her eyes, and stirred a little, Emma Kerfoot was by -the bedside in an instant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dear Carry!' she said. 'Do you want anything?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head slightly; she was excessively weak; -but the look in her eyes was one of calm intelligence; it -was clear that the delirium had left her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do you know that your father is here?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why?' she managed to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Because you have been so ill! Don't you know? -Don't you recollect?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes—I know, a little,' she said. 'Where is Jack Huysen?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He is here in the hotel too. Oh, how glad they will -all be to hear that you are quite yourself again. And I -must go and tell them, as soon as nurse comes; for, you -know, you'll have a long pull before you, Carry; and if -you don't get quite well again not one of us will ever -forgive ourselves for bringing you to Lake George. And -there's Jack Huysen, poor fellow, he has just been -distracted; and all the time you were ill you never had a -word for him—though he used to haunt the passage outside -just like a ghost—well, well, you'll have to make it up -to him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment the nurse appeared, and Miss Kerfoot -was free to depart on her joyful errand. Of course, she -was for summoning everybody—and Jack Huysen among -the rest; but the doctors interposed; their patient must -be kept perfectly quiet; in the meantime no one but her -father was to have access to her room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now Mr. Hodson, when he was seated there by her -side, and chatting lightly and carelessly about a variety of -indifferent matters (she herself being forbidden to speak), -considered that he could not do better than relieve her -mind of any anxiety she may have entertained on Ronald's -account. All through her delirium that was the one thing -that seemed to trouble her; and, lest she should revert to -it, he thought he might as well give her ample assurance -that Ronald should be looked after. However, to his great -surprise, he found that she was quite ignorant of her having -made these appeals on behalf of Ronald. She did not -seem to know that she had been in dire distress about -him, reproaching herself for their treatment of him, and -begging her father to make such atonement as was yet -possible. No; when she was allowed to speak a little, she -said quite calmly that it was a pity they had not been able -to go to Scotland that autumn; that they should have -written to Ronald to see how he was getting on; and that -her father, if he visited the old country, in the coming -spring, ought surely to seek him out, and remind him that -he had some friends in America who would be glad to hear -of his welfare. But Mr. Hodson said to himself that -he would do a little more than that. He was not going -to recall the promise that he had made to his daughter -when, as he thought, she lay near to the very gates of death. -What had put that pathetic solicitude into her mind he -knew not; but she had made her appeal, with dumb -fever-stricken eyes and trembling voice; and he had answered -her and pledged his word. Ronald should be none the -loser that this sick girl had thought of him when that she -seemed to be vanishing away from them for ever; surely -in that direction, as well as any other, the father might fitly -give his thank-offering—for the restitution to life of the -sole daughter of his house?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-absence"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN ABSENCE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Loch Naver lay calm and still under the slow awakening -of the dawn. All along the eastern horizon the low-lying -hills were of a velvet-textured olive-green—a mysterious -shadow-land where no detail was visible; but overhead the -skies were turning to a clear and luminous gray; the roseate -tinge was leaving the upper slopes of Ben Loyal and Ben -Clebrig; and the glassy surface of the lake was gradually -whitening as the red-golden light changed to silver and -broadened up and through the wide sleeping world. An -intense silence lay over the little hamlet among the trees; -not even a dog was stirring; but a tiny column of pale blue -smoke issuing from one of the chimneys told that some -one was awake within—probably the yellow-haired Nelly, -whose duties began at an early hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And what was Meenie—or Rose Meenie, or Love -Meenie, as she might be called now, after having all those -things written about her—what was she doing awake and -up at such a time? At all events, her morning greeting -was there confronting her. She had brought it and put it -on the little dressing-table; and as she brushed out her -beautiful abundant brown tresses, her eyes went back again -and again to the pencilled lines, and she seemed not -ill-pleased. For this was what she read:</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">The hinds are feeding upon the hill,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And the hares on the fallow lea;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Awake, awake, Love Meenie!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Birds are singing in every tree;</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And roses you'll find on your window-sill</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">To scent the morning air;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Awake, awake, Love Meenie,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">For the world is shining fair!</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">O who is the mistress of bird and flower?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ben Clebrig knows, I ween!</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Awake, awake, Love Meenie,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">To show them their mistress and queen!</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And it could hardly be expected that she should bring any -very keen critical scrutiny to bear on these careless verses of -Ronald's (of which she had now obtained a goodly number, -by dint of wheedling and entreaty, and even downright -insistence), seeing that nearly all of them were written in -her praise and honour; but even apart from that she had -convinced herself that they were very fine indeed; and -that one or two of them were really pathetic; and she was -not without the hope that, when the serious affairs of life -had been attended to, and a little leisure and contemplation -become possible, Ronald might turn to his poetical -labours again and win some little bit of a name for himself -amongst a few sympathetic souls here and there. That he -could do so, if he chose, she was sure enough. It was all -very well for him to make light of these scraps and -fragments; and to threaten to destroy them if she revealed the -fact of their existence to anybody; but she knew their -worth, if he did not; and when, in this or that magazine -or review, she saw a piece of poetry mentioned with praise, -her first impulse was to quickly read it in order to ask -herself whether Ronald—given time and opportunity—could -not have done as well. Moreover, the answer to that -question was invariably the same; and it did not leave her -unhappy. It is true (for she would be entirely dispassionate) -he had not written anything quite so fine as 'Christabel'—as -yet; but the years were before him; she had confidence; -the world should see—and give him a fitting welcome -all in good time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When, on this clear morning, she was fully equipped -for her walk, she stole silently down the stair, and made -her way out into the now awakening day. The little -hamlet was showing signs of life. A stable-lad was trying -to get hold of a horse that had strayed into the meadow; -a collie was barking its excitement over this performance; -the pretty Nelly appeared carrying an armful of clothes to -be hung out to dry. And then, as Meenie passed the inn, -she was joined by Harry the terrier, who, after the first -grovelling demonstrations of joy, seemed to take it for -granted that he was to be allowed to accompany her. And -she was nothing loth. The fact was, she was setting out -in quest of that distant eyrie of Ronald's of which he had -often told her; and she doubted very much whether she -would be able to find it; and she considered that perhaps -the little terrier might help her. Would he not naturally -make for his master's accustomed resting-place, when they -were sufficiently high up on the far Clebrig slopes?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they went away along the road together; and she -was talking to her companion; and telling him a good deal -more about Glasgow, and about his master, than probably he -could understand. Considering, indeed, that this young -lady had just been sent home in deep disgrace, she seemed -in excellent spirits. She had borne the parting admonitions -and upbraidings of her sister Agatha with a most astonishing -indifference; she had received her mother's reproaches -with a placid equanimity that the little woman could not -understand at all (only that Meenie's face once or twice -grew fixed and proud when there was some scornful -reference to Ronald); and she had forthwith set about nursing -her father—who had caught a severe chill and was in bed—with -an amiable assiduity, just as if nothing had happened. -As regards her father, he either did not know, or had -refused to know, about Meenie's lamentable conduct. On -this one point he was hopelessly perverse; he never would -listen to anything said against this daughter of his; Meenie -was always in the right—no matter what it was. And so, -notwithstanding that she had been sent home as one in -disgrace, and had been received as one in disgrace, she installed -herself as her father's nurse with an amazing self-content; -and she brought him his beef-tea and port-wine at the stated -intervals (for the good Doctor did not seem to have as much -faith in drugs as might have been anticipated); and she -kept the peat-fire piled up and blazing; and she -methodically read to him the </span><em class="italics">Inverness Courier</em><span>, the </span><em class="italics">Glasgow -Weekly Citizen</em><span>, and the </span><em class="italics">Edinburgh Scotsman</em><span>; and when -these were done she would get out a volume of old ballads, -or perhaps 'The Eve of St. Agnes,' or 'Esmond,' or 'As -You Like It,' or the 'Winter's Tale.' It did not matter -much to him what she read; he liked to hear the sound of -Meenie's voice—in this hushed, half-slumberous, warm little -room, while the chill north winds howled without, chasing -each other across the driven loch, and sighing and sobbing -away along the lonely Strath-Terry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But on this fair morning there was not a breath stirring; -and the curving bays and promontories and birch-woods, -and the far hills beyond, were all reflected in the magic -mirror of the lake, as she sped along the highway, making -for the Clebrig slopes. And soon she was mounting -these—with the light step of one trained to the heather; and -ever as she got higher and higher the vast panorama around -her grew wider and more wide, until she could see hills -and lochs and wooded islands that never were visible from -Inver-Mudal. In the perfect silence, the sudden whirr of -a startled grouse made her heart jump. A hare—that -looked remarkably like a cat, for there was as much white -as bluish-brown about it—got up almost at her feet and -sped swiftly away over heath and rock until it disappeared -in one of the numerous peat-hags. There was a solitary -eagle slowly circling in the blue; but at so great a height -that it was but a speck. At one moment she thought she -had caught sight of the antlers of a stag; and for a second -she stopped short, rather frightened; but presently she had -convinced herself that these were but two bits of withered -birch, appearing over the edge of a rock far above her. It -was a little chillier here; but the brisk exercise kept her -warm. And still she toiled on and on; until she knew, or -guessed, that she was high enough; and now the question -was to discover the whereabouts of the clump of rocks under -shelter of which Ronald was accustomed to sit, when he -had been up here alone, dreaming day-dreams, and scribbling -the foolish rhymes that had won to her favour, whatever he -might think of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At first this seemed a hopeless task; for the whole place -was a wilderness of moss and heather and peat-hags, with -scarcely a distinctive feature anywhere. But she wandered -about, watching the little terrier covertly; and at last she -saw him put his nose in an inquiring way into a hole -underneath some tumbled boulders. He turned and looked at -her; she followed. And now there could be no doubt that -this was Ronald's halting-place and pulpit of meditation; -for she forthwith discovered the hidden case at the back of -the little cave—though the key of that now belonged to his -successor. And so, in much content, she sate herself down -on the heather; with all the wide, sunlit, still world mapped -out before her—the silver thread of Mudal Water visible -here and there among the moors, and Loch Meadie with -its islands, and Ben Hope and Ben Loyal, and Bonnie -Strath-Naver, and the far Kyle of Tongue close to the -northern Sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, what had Love Meenie climbed all this height for? what -but to read herself back into the time when Ronald -used to come here alone; and to think of what he had -been thinking; and to picture herself as still an -unconscious maiden wandering about that distant little hamlet -that seemed but two or three dots down there among the -trees. This, or something like it, has always been a -favourite pastime with lovers; but Meenie had an additional -source of interest in the possession of a packet of those idle -rhymes, and these were a kind of key to bygone moods -and days. And so it was here—in this strange stillness—that -Ronald had written these verses about her; and perhaps -caught a glimpse of her, with his telescope, as she -came out from the cottage to intercept the mail; when -little indeed was she dreaming that he had any such fancies -in his head. And now as she turned over page after page, -sometimes she laughed a little, when she came to something -that seemed a trifle audacious—and she scarcely wondered -that he had been afraid of her seeing such bold declarations: -and then again a kind of compunction filled her -heart; and she wished that Ronald had not praised her -so; for what had she done to deserve it; and how would -her coming life be made to correspond with these all too -generous and exalted estimates of her character? Of -course she liked well enough to come upon praises of her -abundant brown hair, and her Highland eyes, and the -rose-leaf tint of her cheeks, and the lightness of her step; for -she was aware of these things as well as he; and glad -enough that she possessed them, for had they not -commended her to him? But as for these other wonderful -graces of mind and disposition with which he had adorned -her? She was sadly afraid that he would find her stupid, -ill-instructed, unread, fractious, unreasonable, incapable of -understanding him. Look, for example, how he could -imbue these hills and moors and vales with a kind of magic, -so that they seemed to become his personal friends. To -her they were all dead things (except Mudal Water, at -times, on the summer evenings), but to him they seemed -instinct with life. They spoke to him; and he to them; -he understood them; they were his companions and friends; -who but himself could tell of what this very hill of Clebrig -was thinking?—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ben Clebrig's a blaze of splendour</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In the first red flush of the morn,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And his gaze is fixed on the eastward</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">To greet the day new-born;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And he listens a-still for the bellow</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Of the antlered stag afar,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And he laughs at the royal challenge,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">The hoarse, harsh challenge of war.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">But Ben Clebrig is gentle and placid</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">When the sun sinks into the west,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And a mild and a mellow radiance</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Shines on his giant crest;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">For he's looking down upon Meenie</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">As she wanders along the road,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And the mountain bestows his blessing</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">On the fairest child of God.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There again: what could he see in her (she asked herself) -that he should write of her so? He had declared to her -that the magic with which all this neighbourhood was -imbued was due to her presence there; but how could she, -knowing herself as she did, believe that? And how to -show her gratitude to him; and her faith in him; and her -confidence as to the future? Well, she could but give to -him her life and the love that was the life of her life—if -these were worth the taking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there was one among these many pieces that she -had pondered over which she returned to again and again, -and with a kind of pride; and that not because it sounded -her praises, but because it assured her hopes. As for -Ronald's material success in life, she was troubled with -little doubt about that. It might be a long time before he -could come to claim his wife; but she was content to wait; -in that direction she had no fears whatever. But there -was something beyond that. She looked forward to the -day when even the Stuarts of Glengask and Orosay should -know what manner of man this was whom she had chosen -for her husband. Her mother had called him an -uneducated peasant; but she paid no heed to the taunt; -rather she was thinking of the time when Ronald—other -things being settled—might perhaps go to Edinburgh, and -get to know some one holding the position there that -Jeffrey used to hold (her reading was a little old-fashioned) -who would introduce him to the world of letters and open -the way to fame. She knew nothing of Carry Hodson's -luckless attempt in this direction; she knew, on the -contrary, that Ronald was strongly averse from having any of -these scraps printed; but she said to herself that the fitting -time would come. And if these unpolished verses are -found to belie her confident and proud prognostications as -to the future, let it be remembered that she was hardly -nineteen, that she was exceedingly warm-hearted, that she -was a young wife, and day and night with little to think -about but the perfections of her lover, and his kindness to -her, and his praise of her, and the honour in which he held -her. However, this piece was not about Meenie at -all—he had called it</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="italics">BY ISLAY'S SHORES.</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">By Islay's shores she sate and sang:</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'O winds, come blowing o'er the sea,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And bring me back my love again</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">That went to fight in Germanie!'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And all the livelong day she sang,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And nursed the bairn upon her knee:</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'Balou, balou, my bonnie bairn,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Thy father's far in Germanie,</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">But ere the summer days are gane,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And winter blackens bush and tree,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Thy father will we welcome hame</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Frae the red wars in Germanie.'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">O dark the night fell, dark and mirk;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A wraith stood by her icily:</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'Dear wife, I'll never more win hame,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">For I am slain in Germanie.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">On Minden's field I'm lying stark,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And Heaven is now my far countrie,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Farewell, dear wife, farewell, farewell,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">I'll ne'er win hame frae Germanie.'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And all the year she came and went,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And wandered wild frae sea to sea;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'O neighbours, is he ne'er come back,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">My love that went to Germanie?'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Port Ellen saw her many a time;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Round by Port Askaig wandered she:</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'Where is the ship that's sailing in</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">With my dear love frae Germanie?'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">But when the darkened winter fell:</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'It's cold for baith my bairn and me;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Let me lie down and rest awhile:</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">My love's away frae Germanie.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">O far away and away he dwells;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">High Heaven is now his fair countrie;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And there he stands—with arms outstretched—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">To welcome hame my bairn and me!'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And if Meenie's eyes were filled with tears when she -had re-read the familiar lines, her heart was proud enough; -and all her kinsmen of Glengask and Orosay had no terrors -for her; and her mother's taunts no sting. Of course, all -this that she hoped for was far away in the future; but -even as regarded the immediate years before her she refused -to be harassed by any doubt. Perhaps she would not have -asserted in set terms that a knack of stringing verses together -proved that the writer had also the capacity and knowledge -and judgment necessary to drain and fence and plant and -stock a Highland estate; abstract questions of the kind had -little interest for her; what she did know—what formed the -first article of her creed, and the last, and the intervening -thirty-seven—was that Ronald could do anything he put -his mind to. And this was a highly useful and comfortable -belief, considering all her circumstances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so she sped away down the mountain-side again—glad -to have discovered Ronald's retreat; and so light and -swift was her step that when she at length reached the inn -she found herself just ahead of the mail coming in from the -south. Of course she waited for letters; and when -Mrs. Murray had opened the bags, it was found there were three -for the Doctor's cottage. The first was from Ronald; that -Meenie whipped into her pocket. The second was for -Mrs. Douglas, and clearly in Agatha's handwriting. The -third, addressed to Meenie, had an American stamp on it; -and this was the one that she opened and read as she -quietly walked homeward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a long letter; and it was from Miss Carry Hodson; -who first of all described the accident that had befallen her, -and her subsequent illness; and plainly intimated that no -such thing would have happened had her Highland friends -been in charge of the boat. Then she went on to say that -her father had just sailed for Europe; that he had business -to transact in Scotland; that he wished to see Ronald; and -would Miss Douglas be so very kind as to ask the innkeeper, -or the post-master at Lairg, or any one who knew Ronald's -address in Glasgow, to drop a post-card to her father, -addressed to the Langham Hotel, London, with the information. -Moreover, her father had intimated his intention of -taking the Loch Naver salmon-fishing for the next season, -if it was not as yet let; and in that case the writer would -be overjoyed to find herself once more among her -Inver-Mudal friends. Finally, and as a kind of reminder and -keepsake, she had sent by her father a carriage-rug made -mostly of chipmunk skins; and she would ask Miss Douglas's -acceptance of it; and hoped that it would keep her knees -snug and warm and comfortable when the winds were -blowing too sharply along Strath-Terry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course, all this was wonderful news to come to such -a quiet and remote corner of the world; but there was -other news as well; and that by an odd coincidence. -Some little time after Mrs. Douglas had received the letter -from Agatha, she came to Meenie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Williamina,' said she, 'Agatha writes to me about -Mr. Frank Lauder.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes?' said Meenie, rather coldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He intends renting the salmon-fishing on the loch for -the next season; and he will be alone at the inn. Agatha -hopes that we shall be particularly civil to him; and I -hope—I say, I hope—that every one in this house will be. It -is of the greatest importance, considering how he stands -with regard to Mr. Gemmill. I hope he will be received -in this house with every attention and kindness.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then the pompous little dame left. It was almost -a challenge she had thrown down; and Meenie was at first -a little bewildered. What then?—would this young man, -for the six weeks or two months of his stay, be their -constant visitor? He would sit in the little parlour, evening -after evening; and how could she keep him from talking to -her, and how could she keep him from looking at her? And -Ronald—her husband—would be far away; and alone, -perhaps; and not allowed a word with her; whereas she -would have to be civil and polite to this young man; and -even if she held her eyes downcast, how could she help his -regarding her face?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then she suddenly bethought her of Miss Hodson's -letter. What?—was Mr. Hodson after the fishing too? -And ought not the last tenant to have the refusal? And -should not the Duke's agent know? And why should she -not write him a note—just in case no inquiry had been -made? She had not much time to think about the matter; -but she guessed quickly enough that, if an American -millionaire and the son of a Glasgow merchant are after the -same thing, and that thing purchasable, the American is -likely to get it. And why should Ronald's wife be stared -at and talked to by this young man—however harmless and -amiable his intentions?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she went swiftly to her own room and wrote as -follows:—</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'DEAR MR. CRAWFORD—I have just heard from Miss -Hodson, whose father was here last spring, that he is on -his way to Europe; and that he hopes to have the fishing -again this year. I think I ought to let you know, just in -case you should have any other application for the loch. I -am sure Miss Hodson will be much disappointed if he does -not get it. Yours sincerely,</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>'MEENIE S. DOUGLAS.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'There,' said she, and there was a little smile of triumph -about her mouth, 'if that doesn't put a spoke in the wheel -of Mr. Frank Lauder, poor fellow, I don't know what will.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Spiteful little cat,' her sister Agatha would have called -her, had she known; but women's judgments of women are -not as men's.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="wanderings-in-the-west"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">WANDERINGS IN THE WEST.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>On a singularly clear and brilliant morning in February a -large and heavy screw-steamer slowly crept out of the -land-locked little harbour of Portree, and steadily made away for -the north. For her the squally Ben Inivaig at the mouth -of the channel had no terrors; indeed, what could any -vessel fear on such a morning as this? When they got -well out into Raasay Sound, it seemed as if the whole world -had been changed into a pantomime-scene. The sky was -calm and cloudless; the sea was as glass and of the most -dazzling blue; and those masses of white that appeared on -that perfect mirror were the reflections of the snow-powdered -islands—Raasay, and Fladda, and South Rona—that -gleamed and shone and sparkled there in the sun. Not -often are the wide waters of the Minch so fair and calm -in mid-winter; the more usual thing is northerly gales, -with black seas thundering by into Loch Staffin and -Kilmaluag Bay, or breaking into sheets and spouts of foam -along the headlands of Aird Point and Ru Hunish. This -was as a holiday trip, but for the sharp cold. The -islands were white as a solan's wing—save along the -shores; the sea was of a sapphire blue; and when they got up -by Rona light behold the distant snow-crowned hills of Ross -and Cromarty rose faint and spectral and wonderful into -the pale and summer-like sky. The men sung '</span><em class="italics">Fhir a -Bhata</em><span>' as they scoured the brass and scrubbed the decks; -the passengers marched up and down, clapping their hands -to keep them warm; and ever as the heavy steamer forged -on its way, the world of blue sea and sky and snow-white -hills opened out before them, until some declared at last -that in the far north they could make out the Shiant Isles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now under shelter of the companion-way leading down -into the saloon three men were standing, and two of them -were engaged in an animated conversation. The third, who -was Mr. Hodson, merely looked on and listened, a little -amused, apparently. One of the others—a tall, -heavy-bearded, north-Highland-looking man—was Mr. Carmichael, -a famous estate-agent in London, who had run two or three -commissions together as an excuse for this midwinter trip. -The third member of the group was Ronald, who was -hammering away in his usual dogmatic fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Pedigree? The pride of having ancestors?' he was -saying. 'Why, there's not a man alive whose ancestry does -not stretch as far back as any other man's ancestry. Take -it any way ye like: if Adam was our grandfather, then we're -all his grandchildren; or if we are descended from a -jellyfish or a monkey, the line is of the same length for all -of us—for dukes, and kings, and herd-laddies. The only -difference is this, that some know the names of their -forefathers, and some don't; and the presumption is that the -man whose people have left no story behind them is come -of a more moral, useful, sober, hard-working race than the -man whose forbears were famous cut-throats in the middle -ages, or dishonest lawyers, or king's favourites. It's plain -John Smith that has made up the wealth of this country; -and that has built her ships for her, and defended her, and -put her where she is; and John Smith had his ancestors at -Cressy and Agincourt as well as the rest—ay, and they had -the bulk of the fighting to do, I'll be bound; but I think -none the worse of him because he cannot tell you their -names or plaster his walls with coats of arms. However, it's -idle talking about a matter of sentiment, and that's the fact; -and so, if you'll excuse me, I'll just go down into the cabin, -and write a couple o' letters.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A minute or so after he had disappeared, Mr. Hodson -(who looked miserably cold, to tell the truth, though he -was wrapped from head to heel in voluminous furs) motioned -his companion to come a few yards aside, so that they -could talk without fear of being overheard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now,' said he, in his slow and distinct way, 'now we -are alone, I want you to tell me what you think of that -young man.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I don't like his politics,' was the prompt and blunt -answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No more do I,' said Mr. Hodson coolly. 'But for -another reason. You call him a Radical, I call him a Tory. -But no matter—I don't mean about politics. Politics?—who -but a fool bothers his head about politics—unless he -can make money out of them? No, I mean something -more practical than that. Here have you and he been -together these three days, talking about the one subject -nearly all the time—I mean the management of these -Highland estates, and the nature of the ground, and what -should be done, and all that. Well, now, you are a man of -great experience; and I want you to tell me what you think -of this young fellow. I want you to tell me honestly; and -it will be in strict confidence, I assure you. Now, has he -got a good solid grip of the thing? Does he know? Does -he catch on? Is he safe? Is he to be trusted?——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, there, there, there!' said the big estate-agent, -interrupting through mere good-nature. 'That's quite -another thing—quite another thing. I've not a word to -say against him there—no, quite the other way—a shrewd-headed, -capable fellow he is, with a groundwork of practical -knowledge that no man ever yet got out of books. As -sharp-eyed a fellow as I have come across for many a -day—didn't you see how he guessed at the weak points of that -Mull place before ever he set foot ashore? Quick at figures, -too—oh yes, yes, a capable fellow I call him; he has been -posting himself up, I can see; but it's where his practical -knowledge comes in that he's of value. When it's a question -of vineries, or something like that, then he goes by the -book—that's useless.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hodson listened in silence; and his manner showed -nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have been thinking he would be a valuable man for -me,' the agent said presently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In your office?' said Mr. Hodson, raising his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes. And for this reason. You see, if he would only -keep away from those d—d politics of his, he is a very -good-natured fellow, and he has got an off-hand way with -him that makes shepherds, and keepers, and people of that -kind friendly; the result is that he gets all the information -that he wants—and that isn't always an easy thing to get. -Now if I had a man like that in my office, whom I could -send with a client thinking of purchasing an estate—to -advise him—to get at the truth—and to be an intelligent -and agreeable travelling-companion at the same time—that -would be a useful thing.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Say, now,' continued Mr. Hodson (who was attending -mostly to his own meditations), 'do you think, from what -you've seen of this young man, that he has the knowledge -and business-capacity to be overseer—factor, you call it, -don't you?—of an estate—not a large estate, but perhaps -about the size of the one we saw yesterday or this one we -are going to now? Would he go the right way about it? -Would he understand what had to be done—I mean, in -improving the land, and getting the most out of it——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Carmichael laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's not a fair question,' said he. 'Your friend Strang -and I are too much of one opinion—ay, on every point -we're agreed—for many's the long talk we've had over the -matter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I know—I know,' Mr. Hodson said. 'Though I was -only half-listening; for when you got to feu-duties and -public burdens and things of that kind I lost my reckoning. -But you say that you and Strang are agreed as to the proper -way of managing a Highland estate: very well: assuming -your theories to be correct, is he capable of carrying them -out?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I think so—I should say undoubtedly—I don't think -I would myself hesitate about trusting him with such a -place—that is, when I had made sufficient inquiries about his -character, and got some money guarantee about his stewardship. -But then, you see, Mr. Hodson, I'm afraid, if you -were to let Strang go his own way in working up an estate, -so as to get the most marketable value into it, you and he -would have different opinions at the outset. I mean with -such an estate as you would find over there,' he added, -indicating with his finger the long stretch of wild and -mountainous country they were approaching. 'On rough -and hilly land like that, in nine cases out of ten, you may -depend on it, it's foresting that pays.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But that's settled,' Mr. Hodson retorted rather sharply. -'I have already told you, and Strang too, that if I buy a -place up here I will not have a stag or a hind from end to -end of it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Faith, they're things easy to get rid of,' the other said -good-naturedly. 'They'll not elbow you into the ditch if -you meet them on the road.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No; I have heard too much. Why, you yourself said -that the very name of American stank in the nostrils of the -Highlanders.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Can you wonder?' said Mr. Carmichael quietly: they -had been talking the night before of certain notorious doings, -on the part of an American lessee, which were provoking -much newspaper comment at the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, what I say is this—if I buy a place in the -Highlands—and no one can compel me to buy it—it is merely -a fancy I have had for two or three years back, and I can -give it up if I choose—but what I say is, if I do buy a place -in the Highlands, I will hold it on such conditions that I -shall be able to bring my family to live on it, and that I -shall be able to leave it to my boy without shame. I will -not associate myself with a system that has wrought such -cruelty and tyranny. No; I will not allow a single acre -to be forested.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There's such a quantity of the land good for nothing -but deer,' Mr. Carmichael said, almost plaintively. 'If you -only saw it!—you're going now by what the newspaper -writers say—people who never were near a deer-forest in -their lives.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good for nothing but deer? But what about the black -cattle that Ronald—that Strang—is always talking about?' -was the retort—and Mr. Hodson showed a very unusual -vehemence, or, at least, impatience. 'Well, I don't care. -That has got nothing to do with me. But it has got to do -with my factor, or overseer, or whatever he is. And -between him and me this is how it will lie: "If you can't -work my estate, big or small as it may be, without putting -the main part of it under deer, and beginning to filch -grazings here and there, and driving the crofters down to -the sea-shore, and preventing a harmless traveller from -having a Sunday walk over the hills, then out you go. You -may be fit for some other place: not for mine." Then he -went on in a milder strain. 'And Strang knows that very -well. No doubt, if I were to put him in a position of trust -like that, he might be ambitious to give a good account of -his stewardship; I think, very likely he would be, for he's -a young man; but if I buy a place in the Highlands, it will -have to be managed as I wish it to be managed. When I -said that I wanted the most made out of the land, I did -not mean the most money. No. I should be glad to have -four per cent for my investment; if I can't have that, I -should be content with three; but it is not as a commercial -speculation that I shall go into the affair, if I go into it at -all. My wants are simple enough. As I tell you, I admire -the beautiful, wild country; I like the people—what little -I have seen of them; and if I can get a picturesque bit of -territory somewhere along this western coast, I should like -to give my family a kind of foothold in Europe, and I dare -say my boy might be glad to spend his autumns here, and -have a turn at the grouse. But for the most part of the -time the place would be under control of the factor; and -I want a factor who will work the estate under certain -specified conditions. First, no foresting. Then I would -have the crofts revalued—as fairly as might be; no crofter -to be liable to removal who paid his rent. The sheep-farms -would go by their market value, though I would not -willingly disturb any tenant; however, in that case, I should -be inclined to try Strang's plan of having those black cattle -on my own account. I would have the cottars taken away -from the crofts (allowing for the rent paid to the crofter, -for that would be but fair, when the value of the crofts was -settled), and I would build for them a model village, which -you might look upon as a philanthropic fad of my own, to -be paid for separately. No gratuitous grazing anywhere to -crofter or cottar; that is but the parent of subsequent -squabbles. Then I would have all the draining and -planting and improving of the estate done by the local hands, -so far as that was practicable. And then I should want -four per cent return on the purchase-money; and I should -not be much disappointed with three; and perhaps (though -I would not admit this to anybody) if I saw the little -community thriving and satisfied—and reckoning also the -honour and glory of my being a king on my own small -domain—I might even be content with two per cent. Now, -Mr. Carmichael, is this practicable? And is this young -fellow the man to undertake it? I would make it worth -his while. I should not like to say anything about payment -by results or percentage on profits; that might tempt him -to screw it out of the poorer people when he was left -master—though he does not talk like that kind of a fellow. I -wrote to Lord Ailine about him; and got the best of -characters. I went and saw the old man who is coaching -him for that forestry examination; he is quite confident -about the result—not that I care much about that -myself. What do you say now? You ought to be able to -judge.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Carmichael hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If you got the estate at a fair price,' he said at length, -'it might be practicable, though these improvement schemes -suck in money as a sponge sucks in water. And as for -this young fellow—well, I should think he would be just -the man for the place—active, energetic, shrewd-headed, -and a pretty good hand at managing folk, as I should guess. -But, you know, before giving any one an important post -like that—and especially with your going back to America -for the best part of every year—I think you ought to have -some sort of money guarantee as a kind of safeguard. It's -usual. God forbid I should suggest anything against the -lad—he's as honest looking as my own two boys, and I -can say no more than that—still, business is business. -A couple of sureties, now, of £500 apiece, might be -sufficient.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's usual?' repeated Mr. Hodson absently. 'Yes, I -suppose it is. Pretty hard on a young fellow, though, if -he can't find the sureties. A thousand pounds is a big -figure for one in his position. He has told me about his -father and his brother: they're not in it, anyhow—both of -them with hardly a sixpence to spare. However, it's no -use talking about it until we see whether this place here is -satisfactory; and even then don't say a word about it to -him; for if some such post were to be offered to him—and -if the securities were all right and so forth—it has got -to be given to him as a little present from an American -young lady, if you can call it a present when you merely -propose to pay a man a fair day's wage for a fair day's work. -And I am less hopeful now; the three places we have -looked at were clearly out of the question; and my -Highland mansion may prove to be a castle in Spain -after all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Late that night they reached their destination; and -early next morning at the door of the hotel—which looked -strangely deserted amid the wintry landscape—a waggonette -was waiting for them, and also the agent for the estate they -were going to inspect. They started almost directly; and -a long and desperately cold drive it proved to be; -Mr. Hodson, for one, was glad enough when they dismounted -at the keeper's cottage where their tramp over the ground -was to begin—he did not care how rough the country might -be, so long as he could keep moving briskly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now it had been very clear during these past few days -that Ronald had not the slightest suspicion that Mr. Hodson, -in contemplating the purchase of a Highland estate (which -was an old project of his), had also in his eye some scheme -for Ronald's own advancement. All the way through he -had been endeavouring to spy out the nakedness of the -land, and to demonstrate its shortcomings. He considered -that was his business. Mr. Hodson had engaged him—at -what he considered the munificent terms of a guinea a -day and all expenses paid—to come and give his advice; -and he deemed it his duty to find out everything, especially -whatever was detrimental, about such places as they visited, -so that there should be no swindling bargain. And so on -this Ross-shire estate of Balnavrain, he was proving himself -a hard critic. This was hopelessly bleak; that was -worthless bog-land;—why was there no fencing along those -cliffs?—where were the roads for the peats?—who had had -control over the burning of the heather?—wasn't it strange -that all along these tops they had not put up more than -a couple of coveys of grouse, a hare or two, and a single -ptarmigan? But all at once, when they had toiled across -this unpromising and hilly wilderness, they came upon a -scene of the most startling beauty—for now they were -looking down and out on the western sea, that was a -motionless mirror of blue and white; and near them was -a wall of picturesquely wooded cliffs; and below that again, -and sloping to the shore, a series of natural plateaus and -carefully planted enclosures; while stretching away inland -was a fertile valley, with smart farmhouses, and snug clumps -of trees, and a meandering river that had salmon obviously -written on every square foot of its partially frozen -surface.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What a situation for a house!' was Ronald's involuntary -exclamation—as he looked down on the sheltered semicircle -below him, guarded on the east and north by the cliffs, and -facing the shining west.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I thought ye would say that,' the agent said, with a -quiet smile. 'It's many's the time I've heard Sir James -say he would give £20,000 if he could bring the Castle -there; and he was aye minded to build there—ay, even to -the day of his death, poor man; but then the Colonel, when -the place came to him, said no; he would rather sell -Balnavrain; and maist likely the purchaser would be for -building a house to his ain mind.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And a most sensible notion too,' Mr. Hodson said. -'But look here, my friend: you've brought us up to a kind -of Pisgah; I would rather go down into that land of Gilead, -and see what the farmhouses are like.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, but I brought ye here because it's about the best -place for giving ye an idea of the marches,' said the man -imperturbably, for he knew his own business better than the -stranger. 'Do ye see the burn away over there beyond the -farmhouse?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, yes.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, that's the Balnavrain march right up to the top; -and then the Duchess runs all along the sky-line -yonder—to the black scaur.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You don't say!' observed Mr. Hodson. 'I never -heard of a Duchess doing anything so extraordinary.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But we march with the Duchess,' said the other, a little -bewildered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That's a little more decorous, anyway. Well now, I -suppose we can make all that out on the Ordnance Survey -map when we get back to the hotel. I'm for getting down -into the valley—to have a look around; I take it that if I -lived here I shouldn't spend all the time on a mountain-top.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, the long and the short of it was that, after having -had two or three hours of laborious and diligent tramping -and inspection and questioning and explanation, and after -having been entertained with a comfortable meal of oat-cake -and hot broth and boiled beef at a hospitable farmhouse, -they set out again on their cold drive back to the hotel, -where a long business conversation went on all the evening, -during dinner and after dinner. It was very curious how -each of these three brought this or that objection to the -place—as if bound to do so; and how the fascination of -the mere site of it had so clearly captivated them none the -less. Of course, nothing conclusive was said or done that -night; but, despite these deprecatory pleas, there was a -kind of tacit and general admission that Balnavrain, with -proper supervision and attention to the possibilities offered -by its different altitudes, might be made into a very -admirable little estate, with a dwelling-house on it second in -point of situation to none on the whole western sea-board -of the Highlands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald,' said Mr. Hodson that evening, when Mr. Carmichael -had gone off to bed (he was making for the -south early in the morning), 'we have had some hard days' -work; why should we let Loch Naver lie idle? I suppose -we could drive from here somehow? Let us start off -to-morrow; and we'll have a week's salmon-fishing.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To Inver-Mudal?' he said—and he turned quite pale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, yes, why not?' Mr. Hodson answered. But he -had noticed that strange look that had come across the -younger man's face; and he attributed it to a wrong cause. -'Oh, it will not take up so much of your time,' he -continued. 'Mr. Weems declares you must have your -certificate as a matter of course. And as for expenses—the -present arrangement must go on, naturally, until you get -back to Glasgow. What is a week, man? Indeed, I will -take no denial.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Ronald could not answer. To Inver-Mudal?—to -meet the girl whom he dared not acknowledge to be his -wife?—and with his future as hopelessly uncertain as ever. -Once or twice he was almost driven to make a confession -to this stranger, who seemed so frankly interested in him -and his affairs; but no; he could not do that; and he went -to bed wondering with what strange look in her eyes Meenie -would find him in Inver-Mudal—if he found it impossible -to resist the temptation of being once more within sight of -her, and within hearing of the sound of her voice.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-pledge-redeemed"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A PLEDGE REDEEMED.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mr. Hodson could by no means get to understand the -half-expressed reluctance, the trepidation almost, with which -Ronald seemed to regard this visit to Inver-Mudal. It -was not a matter of time; for his studies for the examination -were practically over. It was not a matter of expense; -for he was being paid a guinea a day. It was not debt; -on that point Mr. Hodson had satisfied himself by a few -plain questions; and he knew to a sovereign what sum -Ronald had still in the bank. Nor could he believe, after -the quite unusual terms in which Lord Ailine had written -about the young man's conduct and character, that Ronald -was likely to have done anything to cause him to fear a -meeting with his former friends. And so, having some -little experience of the world, he guessed that there was -probably a girl in the case; and discreetly held his peace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But little indeed was he prepared for the revelation that -was soon to be made. On the afternoon of one of these -cold February days they were driving northward along -Strath-Terry. A sprinkling of snow had fallen in the -morning; the horses' hoofs and the wheels of the waggonette -made scarcely any sound in this prevailing silence. -They had come in sight of Loch Naver; and the long -sheet of water looked quite black amid the white undulations -of the woods and the moorland and the low-lying hills. -Now at this point the road leading down to the village -makes a sudden turn; and they were just cutting round -the corner when Ronald, who had been anxiously looking -forward, caught sight of that that most he longed and that -most he feared to see. It was Meenie herself—she was -walking by the side of the way, carrying some little parcel -in her hand; and they had come upon her quite -unexpectedly, and noiselessly besides; and what might she not -betray in this moment of sudden alarm? He gripped the -driver's arm, thinking he might stop the horses; but it was -now too late for that. They were close to her; she heard -the patter of horses' hoofs; she looked up, startled; and -the next moment—when she saw Ronald there—she had -uttered a quick, sharp cry, and had staggered back a step -or so, until in her fright she caught at the wire fence behind -her. She did not fall; but her face was as white as the -snow around her; and when he leapt from the waggonette, -and seized her by both wrists, so as to hold her there, she -could only say, 'Ronald, Ronald,' and could seek for no -explanation of this strange arrival. But he held her tight -and firm; and with a wave of his hand he bade the driver -drive on and leave them. And Mr. Hodson lowered his -eyes, thinking that he had seen enough; but he formally -raised his hat, all the same; and as he was being driven -on to the inn, he returned to his surmise that there was a -girl in the case—only who could have imagined that it was -the Doctor's daughter?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nor was there a single word said about this tell-tale -meeting when Ronald came along to the inn, some few -minutes thereafter. He seemed a little preoccupied, that -was all. He rather avoided the stormy welcome that -greeted him everywhere; and appeared to be wholly bent -on getting the preparations pushed forward for the fishing -of the next day. Of course everything had to be arranged; -for they had had no thought of coming to Inver-Mudal -when they sailed from Glasgow; there was not even a boat -on the loch, nor a single gillie engaged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But later on that evening, when the short winter day -had departed, and the blackness of night lay over the land, -Ronald stole away from the inn, and went stealthily down -through the fields till he found himself by the side of the -river. Of course, there was nothing visible; had he not -known every foot of the ground, he dared not have come -this way; but onward he went like a ghost through the -dark until he finally gained the bridge, and there he paused -and listened. 'Meenie!' he said, in a kind of whisper; -but there was no reply. And so he groped his way to the -stone dyke by the side of the road, and sate down there, -and waited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was not how he had looked forward to meeting -Meenie again. Many a time he had pictured that to -himself—his getting back to Inver-Mudal after the long -separation—the secret summons—and Meenie coming silently -out from the little cottage to join him. But always the -night was a moonlight night; and the wide heavens calm -and clear; and Loch Naver rippling in silver under the -dusky shadows of Ben Clebrig. Why, he had already -written out that summons; and he had sent it to Meenie; -and no doubt she had read it over to herself more than -once; and wondered when the happy time was to be. The -night that he had looked forward to was more like a night -for a lovers' meeting: this was the message he had sent her—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">O white's the moon upon the loch,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And black the bushes on the brae,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And red the light in your window-pane:</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">When will ye come away,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Meenie,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">When will ye come away?</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">I'll wrap ye round and keep ye warm,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">For mony a secret we've to tell,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And ne'er a sound will hinder us</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Down in yon hidden dell,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Meenie,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Down in yon hidden dell.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">O see the moon is sailing on</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Through fleecy clouds across the skies,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">But fairer far the light that I know,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">The love-light in your eyes,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Meenie,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">The love-light in your eyes.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">O haste and haste; the night is sweet,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">But sweeter far what I would hear;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">And I have a secret to tell to you,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A whisper in your ear,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Meenie,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A whisper in your ear.</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But here was a bitter cold winter night; and Meenie -would have to come through the snow; and dark as pitch -it was—he would have to guess at the love-light in her eyes, -so cruelly dense was this blackness all around.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then his quick ear detected a faint sound in the -distance—a hushed footfall on the snow; and that -came nearer and nearer; he went out to the middle of the -road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is that you, Meenie?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The answer was a whisper—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And like a ghost she came to him through the dark; -but indeed this was no ghost at all that he caught to him -and that clung to him, for if her cheeks were cold her -breath was warm about his face, and her lips were warm, -and her ungloved hands that were round his neck were -warm, and all the furry wrappings that she wore could not -quite conceal the joyful beating of her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, Ronald—Ronald—you nearly killed me with the -fright—I thought something dreadful had happened—that -you had come back without any warning—and now you -say instead that it's good news—oh, let it be good news, -Ronald—let it be good news—if you only knew how I -have been thinking and thinking—and crying sometimes—through -the long days and the long nights—let it be good -news that you have brought with you, Ronald!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, lass' (but this was said after some little time; -for he had other things to say to her with which we have -no concern here), 'it may be good news; but it's pretty -much guess-work; and maybe I'm building up something -on my own conceit, that will have a sudden fall, -and serve me right. And then even at the best I hardly -see——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But, Ronald, you said it was good news!' And then -she altered her tone. 'Ah, but I don't care! I don't care -at all when you are here. It is only when you are away -that my heart is like lead all the long day; and at night I -lie and think that everything is against us—and such a long -time to wait—and perhaps my people finding out—but -what is it, Ronald, you had to tell me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, now, Meenie,' said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But that is not my name—to you,' said she; for indeed -she scarce knew what she said, and was all trembling, and -excited, and clinging to him—there, in the dark, mid the -wild waste of the snow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Love-Meenie and Rose-Meenie, all in one,' said he, -'listen, and I'll tell you now what maybe lies before us. -Maybe, it is, and that only; I think this unexpected coming -to see you may have put me off my head a bit; but if it's -all a mistake—well, we are no worse off than we were -before. And this is what it is now: do you remember my -telling you that Mr. Hodson had often been talking of -buying an estate in the Highlands?—well, he has just been -looking at one—it's over there on the Ross-shire coast—and -it's that has brought us to the Highlands just now, for -he would have me come and look at it along with him. -And what would you think if he made me the factor of it? -Well, maybe I'm daft to think of such a thing; but he has -been talking and talking in a way I cannot understand -unless some plan of that kind is in his head; ay, and he -has been making inquiries about me, as I hear; and not -making much of the forestry certificate, as to whether I get -it or no; but rather, as I should guess, thinking about -putting me on this Balnavrain place as soon as it becomes his -own. Ay, ay, sweetheart; that would be a fine thing for -me, to be in a position just like that of Mr. Crawford—though -on a small scale; and who could prevent my coming -to claim my good wife then, and declaring her as mine -before all the world?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, yes, Ronald,' she said eagerly, 'but why do you -talk like that? Why do you speak as if there was trouble? -Surely he will make you factor! It was he that asked you -to go away to Glasgow; he always was your friend; if he -buys the estate, who else could he get to manage it as -well?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But there's another thing, sweetheart,' said he, rather -hopelessly. 'He spoke about it yesterday. Indeed, he -put it plain enough. He asked me fairly whether, supposing -somebody was to offer me the management of an estate, -I could get guarantees—securities for my honesty, in fact; -and he even mentioned the sum that would be needed. -Well, well, it's beyond me, my girl—where could I find two -people to stand surety for me at £500 apiece?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She uttered a little cry, and clung closer to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald—Ronald—surely you will not miss such a -chance for that—it is a matter of form, isn't it?—and some -one——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But who do I know that has got £500, and that I -could ask?' said he. 'Ay, and two of them. Maybe -Lord Ailine might be one—he was always a good friend to -me—but two of them—two of them—well, well, good lass, -if it has all got to go, we must wait for some other chance.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' said Meenie bitterly, 'and this American—he -calls himself a friend of yours too—and he wants -guarantees for your honesty!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's the usual thing, as he said himself,' Ronald said. -'But don't be downhearted, my dear. Hopes and -disappointments come to every one, and we must meet them -like the rest. The world has always something for -us—even these few minutes—with your cheeks grown warm -again—and the scent of your hair—ay, and your heart as -gentle as ever.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she was crying a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald—surely—it is not possible this chance should -be so near us—and then to be taken away. And can't I -do something? I know the Glengask people will be -angry—but—but I would write to Lady Stuart—or if I could -only go to her, that would be better—it would be between -woman and woman, and surely she would not refuse when -she knew how we were placed—and—and it would be -something for me to do—for you know you've married a -pauper bride, Ronald—and I bring you nothing—when -even a farmer's daughter would have her store of napery -and a chest of drawers and all that—but couldn't I do this, -Ronald?—I would go and see Lady Stuart—she could -not refuse me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed lightly; and his hands were clasped round -the soft brown hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no, no, sweetheart; things will have come to a -pretty pass before I would have you exposed to any -humiliation of that sort. And why should you be -down-hearted? The world is young for both of us. Oh, don't -you be afraid; a man that can use his ten fingers and is -willing to work will tumble into something sooner or later; -and what is the use of being lovers if we are not to have -our constancy tried? No, no; you keep a brave heart: -if this chance has to be given up, we'll fall in with another; -and maybe it will be all the more welcome that we have -had to wait a little while for it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A little while, Ronald?' said she.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He strove to cheer her and reassure her still further; -although, indeed, there was not much time for that; for -he had been commanded to dine with Mr. Hodson at -half-past seven; and he knew better than to keep the man who -might possibly be his master waiting for dinner. And -presently Meenie and he were going quietly along the -snow-hushed road; and he bade her good-bye—many and -many times repeated—near the little garden-gate; and -then made his way back to the inn. He had just time to -brush his hair and smarten himself up a bit when the -pretty Nelly—who seemed to be a little more friendly and -indulgent towards him than in former days—came to say -that she had taken the soup into the parlour, and that the -gentleman was waiting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now Mr. Hodson was an astute person; and he suspected -something, and was anxious to know more; but he -was not so ill-advised as to begin with direct questions. -For one thing, there was still a great deal to be talked over -about the Balnavrain estate—which he had almost decided -on purchasing; and, amongst other matters, Ronald was -asked whether the overseer of such a place would consider -£400 a year a sufficient salary, if a plainly and comfortably -built house were thrown in; and also whether, in ordinary -circumstances, there would be any difficulty about a young -fellow obtaining two sureties to be responsible for him. -From that it was a long way round to the Doctor's daughter; -but Mr. Hodson arrived there in time; for he had brought -for her a present from his own daughter; and he seemed -inclined to talk in a friendly way about the young lady. -And at last he got the whole story. Once started, Ronald -spoke frankly enough. He confessed to his day-dreams -about one so far superior to him in station; he described -his going away to Glasgow; his loneliness and despair -there; his falling among evil companions and his drinking; -the message of the white heather; his pulling himself up; -and Meenie's sudden resolve and heroic self-surrender. -The private marriage, too—yes, he heard the whole story -from beginning to end; and the more he heard the more -his mind was busy; though he was a quiet kind of person, -and the recital did not seem to move him in any way -whatever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet it may be doubted whether, in all the county -of Sutherland, or in all the realm of England, there was -any happier man that night than Mr. Josiah Hodson. For -here was something entirely after his own heart. His pet -hobby was playing the part of a small beneficent Providence; -and he had already befriended Ronald, and was greatly -interested in him; moreover, had he not promised his -daughter, when she lay apparently very near to death, that -Ronald should be looked after? But surely he had never -looked forward to any such opportunity as this! And then -the girl was so pretty—that, also, was something. His -heart warmed to the occasion; dinner being over, they -drew their chairs towards the big fireplace where the peats -were blazing cheerfully; Ronald was bidden to light his -pipe; and then; the American—in a quiet, indifferent, -sententious way, as if he were talking of some quite abstract -and unimportant matter—made his proposal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, now, Ronald,' said he, as he stirred up some of -the peats with his foot, 'you seemed to think that £400 -a year and a house thrown in was good enough for the -overseer of that Balnavrain place. I don't know what your -intentions are; but if you like to take that situation, it's -yours.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ronald looked startled—but only for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I thank ye, sir; I thank ye,' he said, with rather a -downcast face. 'I will not say I had no suspicion ye were -thinking of some such kindness; and I thank ye—most -heartily I thank ye. But it's beyond me. I could not get -the securities.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, now, as to that,' the American said, after a -moment's consideration, 'I am willing to take one security—I -mean for the whole amount; and I want to name the -person myself. If Miss Douglas will go bail for you—or -Mrs. Strang, I suppose I should call her—then there is no -more to be said. Ronald, my good fellow, if the place is -worth your while, take it; it's yours.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A kind of flash of joy and gratitude leapt to the younger -man's eyes; but all he could manage to say was—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If I could only tell </span><em class="italics">her</em><span>!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, now, as to that again,' said Mr. Hodson, rising -slowly, and standing with his back to the fire, 'I have got -to take along that present from my daughter—to-morrow -morning would be best; and I could give her the information, -if you wished. But I'll tell you what would be still -better, my friend: you just let me settle this little affair -with the old people—with the mamma, as I understand. -I'm not much of a talkist; but if you give me permission -I'll have a try; I think we might come to some kind of a -reasonable understanding, if she doesn't flatten me with -her swell relations. Why, yes, I think I can talk sense to -her. I don't want to see the girl kept in that position; -your Scotch ways—well, we haven't got any old ballads in -my country, and we like to have our marriages fair and -square and aboveboard: now let me tell the old lady the -whole story, and try to make it up with her. She can't -scold my head off.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And by this time he was walking up and down the -room; and he continued—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No; I shall go round to-morrow afternoon, when we -come back from the fishing. And look here, Ronald; this -is what I want you to do; you must get the other boat -down to the lake—and you will go in that one—and get -another lad or two—I will pay them anything they want. -I can't have my overseer acting as gillie, don't you see—if -I am going to talk with his mother-in-law; you must get -out the other boat; and if you catch a salmon or two, just -you send them along to the Doctor, with your compliments—do -you hear, your compliments, not mine. Now——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And I have not a word of thanks!' Ronald exclaimed. -'My head is just bewildered——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Say, now,' the American continued quietly—in fact, he -seemed to be considering his finger-nails more than -anything else, as he walked up and down the room—'say, now, -what do you think the Doctor's income amounts to in the -year? Not much? Two hundred pounds with all expenses -paid?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I really don't know,' Ronald said—not understanding -the drift of this question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not three hundred, anyway?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I'm sure I don't know.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah. Well, now, I've got to talk to that old lady -to-morrow about the prospects of her son-in-law—though she -don't know she has got one,' Mr. Hodson was saying—half -to himself, as it were. 'I suppose she'll jump on me when -I begin. But there's one thing. If I can't convince her -with four hundred a year, I'll try her with five—and Carry -shall kiss me the difference.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-factor-of-balnavrain"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE FACTOR OF BALNAVRAIN.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Well, now, some couple of months or so thereafter, this -same Miss Carry was one of a party of four—all Americans—who -set out from Lairg station to drive to Inver-Mudal; -and very comfortable and content with each other they -seemed to be when they were ensconced in the big waggonette. -For a convalescent, indeed, Miss Hodson appeared -to be in excellent spirits; but there may have been reasons -for that; for she had recently become engaged; and her -betrothed, to mark that joyful circumstance, had left for -Europe with her; and it was his first trip to English shores; -and more especially it was his first trip to the Highlands of -Scotland; and very proud was she of her self-imposed office -of chaperon and expounder and guide. Truth to tell, the -long and lank editor found that in many respects he had -fallen upon troublous times; for not only was he expected -to be profoundly interested in historical matters about which -he did not care a red cent, and to accept any and every -inconvenience and discomfort as if it were a special blessing -from on high, and to be ready at all moments to admire -mountains and glens and lakes when he would much rather -have been talking of something more personal to Miss Carry -and himself, but also—and this was the cruellest wrong of -all—he had to listen to continued praises of Ronald Strang that -now and again sounded suspiciously like taunts. And on -such occasions he was puzzled by the very audacity of her -eyes. She regarded him boldly—as if to challenge him to -say that she did not mean every word she uttered; and he -dared not quarrel with her, or dispute; though sometimes -he had his own opinion as to whether those pretty soft dark -eyes were quite so innocent and simple and straightforward -as they pretended to be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah,' said she, as they were now driving away from the -village into the wide, wild moorland, 'ah, when you see -Ronald, you will see a man.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had her eyes fixed on him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I suppose they don't grow that kind of a thing in our -country,' he answered meekly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I mean,' she said, with a touch of pride, 'I mean a man -who is not ashamed to be courteous to women—a man who -knows how to show proper respect to women.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, yes, I'll allow you won't find that quality in an -American,' he said, with a subtle sarcasm that escaped her, -for she was too obviously bent on mischief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And about the apology, now?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What apology?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For your having published an insulting article about -Ronald, to be sure. Of course you will have to apologise -to him, before this very day is over.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will do anything else you like,' the long editor said, -with much complaisance. 'I will fall in love with the -young bride, if you like. Or I'll tell lies about the weight -of the salmon when I get back home. But an apology? -Seems to me a man making an apology looks about as -foolish as a woman throwing a stone: I don't see my way -to that. Besides, where does the need of it come in, -anyhow? You never read the article. It was very -complimentary, as I think; yes, it was so; a whole column and -more about a Scotch gamekeeper——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A Scotch gamekeeper!' Miss Carry said proudly. -'Well, now, just you listen to me. Ronald knows nothing -at all about this article; if he did, he would only laugh at -it; but he never heard of it; and it's not to be spoken of -here. But I mean to speak of it, by and by. I mean to -speak of it, when I make the acquaintance of—what's his -distinguished name?——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But here Miss Kerfoot—who, with her married sister, -occupied the other side of the waggonette—broke in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You two quarrelling again!' And then she sighed. -'But what is the good of a drive, anyway, when we haven't -got Doctor Tom and his banjo?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A banjo—in Strath-Terry?' Miss Carry cried. 'Do -you mean to say you would like to hear a banjo -tinkle-tinkling in a country like this?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, my dyaw,' said Miss Kerfoot coolly: she had -been making some studies in English pronunciation, and -was getting on pretty well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I suppose you can't imagine how Adam passed the -time without one in the Garden of Eden—wanted to play -to Eve on the moonlight nights—a cake-walk, I -suppose—pumpkin-pie—why, I wonder what's the use of bringing -you to Europe.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For answer Miss Kerfoot began to hum to herself—but -with the words sounding clearly enough—</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">'I'se gwine back to Dixie,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">I'se gwine back to Dixie,</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">I'se gwine where the orange blossoms grow;</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">O, I'd rather be in Dixie,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">I'd rather be in Dixie,</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">For travelling in the Highlands is so——'</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But here remorse of conscience smote her; and she seized -Carry's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, I won't say it—you poor, weak, invalid thing. -And were they worrying you about the Highlands, and -the slow trains, and the stuffy omnibus at Lairg? Well, -they shan't say anything more to you—that they shan't; -and you are to have everything your own way; and -I'm going to fall in love with Ronald, just to keep you -company.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But alas! when they did eventually get to Inver-Mudal, -there was no Ronald to be found there. Mr. Murray was -there, and Mrs. Murray, and the yellow-haired Nelly; and -the travellers were told that luncheon was awaiting them; -and also that Mr. Hodson had had the second boat put -in readiness, lest any of them should care to try the fishing -in the afternoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But where is Ronald?' said Miss Carry, not in the -least concealing her vexation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Don't cry, poor thing,' Miss Kerfoot whispered to her. -'It shall have its Ronald!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, don't bother!' she said angrily. 'Mr. Murray, -where is Ronald? Is he with my father on the loch?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no; it's the two gillies that's with Mr. Hodson on -the loch,' the innkeeper said. 'And do not you know, -Miss, that Ronald is not here at ahl now; he is away at the -place in Ross-shire.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh yes, I know that well enough,' she said, 'but my -father wrote that he was coming over to see us for a day -or two; and he was to be here this morning—and his wife -as well. But it is of no consequence. I suppose we had -better go in and have lunch now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Kerfoot was covertly laughing. But there was a -young lad there called Johnnie—a shy lad he was, and he -was standing apart from the others, and thus it was that -he could see along the road leading down to the Mudal -bridge. Something in that direction attracted Johnnie's -attention; he came over and said a word or two to -Mr. Murray; the innkeeper went to the gable of the house, -so that he could get a look up Tongue way, and then -he said—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh yes, I think that will be Ronald.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Don't you hear?' said Miss Kerfoot, who was following -the others into the inn. 'They say that Ronald is coming -right now.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Carry turned at once, and went to where the -inn-keeper was standing. Away along there, and just coming -over the bridge, was a dog-cart, with two figures in it. -She watched it. By and by it was pulled up in front of -the Doctor's cottage; she guessed that that was Meenie -who got down from the vehicle and went into the house; -no doubt this was Ronald who was now bringing the -dog-cart along to the inn. And then the others were -summoned; and presently Ronald had arrived and was being -introduced to them; and Miss Carry had forgotten all her -impatience, for he looked just as handsome and -good-natured and modest-eyed as ever; and it was very clear -that Miss Kerfoot was much impressed with the frankness -and simplicity of his manner; and the editor strove to be -particularly civil; and Mrs. Lalor regarded the new-comer -with an obviously approving glance. For they all had heard -the story; and they were interested in him, and in his -young wife; besides, they did not wish to wound the feelings -of this poor invalid creature—and they knew what she -thought of Ronald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And how was he to answer all at once these hundred -questions about the Ross-shire place, and the house that -was building for them, and the farm where he and his wife -were temporarily staying?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come in and have lunch with us, Ronald,' said Miss -Carry, in her usual frank way, 'and then you will tell us all -about it. We were just going in; and it's on the table.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I cannot do that very well, I thank ye,' said he, 'for I -have to go back to the Doctor's as soon as I have seen the -mare looked after—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, but I thought you were coming down to the loch -with us!' she said, with very evident disappointment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes, yes, to be sure!' said he. 'I'll be back in a -quarter of an hour at the furthest; and then I'll take one -of the lads with me and we'll have the other boat got out -as well.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But you don't understand, Ronald,' she said quickly. -'The other boat is there—ready—and two gillies, and rods, -and everything. I only want you to come with us for luck; -there's always good luck when you are in the boat. Ah, -do you know what they did to me on Lake George?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Indeed, I was sorry to hear of it, Miss,' said he gravely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Miss!' she repeated, with a kind of reproach; but she -could not keep the others waiting any longer; and so there -was an appointment made that they were all to meet at the -loch-side in half an hour; and she and her friends went -into the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When it came to setting out, however, Mrs. Lalor -begged to be excused; she was a little bit tired, she said, -and would go and lie down. So the other three went by -themselves; and when they got down to the loch, they not -only found that Ronald was there awaiting them, but also -that Mr. Hodson had reeled up his lines and come ashore -to welcome them. Of course that was the sole reason. -At the same time the gillies had got out three remarkably -handsome salmon and put them on the grass; and that -was the display that met the eyes of the strangers when -they drew near. Mr. Hodson was not proud; but he -admitted that they were good-looking fish. Yes; it was a fair -morning's work. But there were plenty more where these -came from, he said encouragingly; they'd better begin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whereupon Miss Carry said promptly—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come along, Em. Mr. Huysen, will you go with pappa, -when he is ready? And Ronald will come with us, to give -us good luck at the start.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Kerfoot said nothing, but did as she was bid; she -merely cast a glance at Mr. Huysen as they were leaving; -and her eyes were demure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, if she considered this manoeuvre—as doubtless -she did—a piece of mere wilful and perverse coquetry on -the part of her friend, she was entirely mistaken. It -simply never would have entered Miss Carry's head that -Ronald should have gone into any other person's boat, so -long as she was there—nor would it have entered his head -either. But besides that, she had brought something for -him; and she wished to have time to show it to him; and -so, when the boat was well away from the shore, and when -he had put out both the lines, she asked him to be so kind -as to undo the long case lying there, and to put the rod -together, and say what he thought of it. It was a -salmon-rod, she explained; of American make; she had heard -they were considered rather superior articles; and if he -approved of this one, she begged that he would keep it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked up with a little surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye are just too kind,' said he. 'There's that beautiful -rug that you sent to my wife, now——'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But isn't it useful?' she said, in her quick, frank way. -'Isn't it comfortable? When you were coming along this -morning, didn't she find it comfortable?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bless me!' he cried. 'Do you think she would put a -beautiful thing like that into a dog-cart to be splashed with -mud, and soiled with one's boots? No, no; it's put over -an easy-chair at the Doctor's, until we get a house of our -own, and proud she is of it, as she ought to be.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And proud was he, too, of this beautiful rod—if he -declared that it was far too fine for this coarse trolling work; -and Miss Kerfoot arrived at the impression that if he could -not make pretty speeches of thanks, there was that in his -manner that showed he was not ungrateful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nor was Miss Carry's faith in Ronald's good luck -belied; for they had not been more than twenty minutes -out on the loch when they had got hold of something; -and at once she rose superior to the excitement of the -gillies, and to the consternation of her American friend. -Perhaps she was showing off a little; at all events, she -seemed quite cool and collected, as if this strain on the rod -and the occasional long scream of the reel were a usual -kind of thing; and Ronald looked on in quiet composure, -believing that his pupil was best left alone. But -alas! alas! for that long illness. The fish was a heavy one -and a game fighter; Miss Carry's arms were weaker than -she had thought; at the end of about a quarter of an -hour—during which time the salmon had been -plunging and boring and springing, and making long rushes in -every conceivable manner—she began to feel the strain. -But she was a brave lass; as long as ever she could -stand upright, she held on; then she said, rather faintly—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ronald!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Take the rod,' she said, 'the fish isn't played out; but -I am.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What's the matter?' said he, in great alarm, as she -sank on to the seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, nothing, nothing,' she said, though she was a little -pale. 'Give Em the rod—give Miss Kerfoot the rod—quick, -Em, get up and land your first salmon.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh my gracious, no! I should die of fright!' was the -immediate answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Ronald had no intention of allowing Miss Carry's -salmon to be handed over to any one else. He turned to -the gillies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is there not a drop of whisky in the boat? Quick, -lads, if you have such a thing—quick, quick!—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They handed him a small green bottle; but she shrank -from it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The taste is too horrid for anything,' she said. 'But -I will have another try. Stand by me, Ronald; and mind -I don't fall overboard.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She got hold of the rod again; he held her right arm—but -only to steady her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Carry—Carry!' her friend said anxiously. 'I wish -you'd leave it alone. Remember, you've been ill—it's too -much for you—oh, I wish the thing would go away!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I mean to wave the banner over this beast, if I die for -it,' Miss Carry said, under her breath; and Ronald -laughed—for that was more of his way of thinking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We'll have him, sure enough,' he said. 'Ay, and a -fine fish, too, that I know.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, Ronald!' she cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For there was a sudden and helpless slackening of the -line. But she had experience enough to reel up hard; -and presently it appeared that the salmon was there—very -much there, in fact, for now it began to go through some -performances—within five-and-twenty yards of the boat—that -nearly frightened Miss Kerfoot out of her wits. And -then these cantrips moderated slowly down; the line was -got in shorter; Ronald, still steadying Miss Carry's right -arm with his left hand, got hold of the clip in the other; -and the young lady who was the spectator of all this -manoeuvring began rather to draw away in fear, as that -large white gleaming thing showed nearer and nearer the -coble. Nay, she uttered a quick cry of alarm when a sudden -dive of the steel hook brought out of the water a huge -silvery creature that the next moment was in the bottom -of the boat; and then she found that Carry had sunk down -beside her, pretty well exhausted, but immensely proud: -and that the gillies were laughing and vociferous and excited -over the capture; and Ronald calmly getting out his -scale-weight from his pocket. The other boat was just then -passing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A good one?' Mr. Hodson called out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Just over sixteen pounds, sir.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well done. But leave us one or two; don't take them all.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Carry paid no heed. She was far too much exhausted; -but pleased and satisfied, also, that she had been -able to see this fight to the end. And she remembered -enough of the customs of the country to ask the two gillies -to take a dram—though it had to come from their own -bottle; she said she would see that that was replenished -when they got back to the inn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a beautiful clear evening as they all of them—the -fishing having been given up for the day—walked away -through the meadows, and up into the road, and so on to -the little hamlet; the western sky was shining in silver-gray -and lemon and saffron; and there was a soft sweet feeling -almost as of summer in the air, though the year was yet -young. They had got six fish all told; that is to say, -Mr. Hodson's boat had got one more in the afternoon; while -Miss Carry had managed to pick up a small thing of eight -pounds or so just as they were leaving off. The fact was, -they did not care to prosecute the fishing till the last -moment; for there was to be a little kind of a -dinner-celebration that evening; and no doubt some of them -wanted to make themselves as smart as possible—though -the possibilities, as a rule, don't go very far in the case of -a fishing-party in a Highland inn—all to pay due honour -to the bride.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And surely if ever Meenie could lay claim to the title -of Rose-Meenie it was on this evening when she came -among these stranger folk—who were aware of her story, -if not a word was said or hinted of it—and found all the -women be-petting her. And Mrs. Douglas was there, -radiant in silk and ribbons, if somewhat austere in manner; -and the big good-natured Doctor was there, full to -overflowing with jests and quips and occult Scotch stories; and -Mr. and Mrs. Murray had done their very best for the -decoration of the dining-room—though Sutherlandshire in -April is far from being Florida. And perhaps, too, Miss -Carry was a little paid out when she saw the perfectly -servile adulation which Mr. J. C. Huysen (who had a -sensitive heart, according to the young men of the </span><em class="italics">N. Y. Sun</em><span>) -laid at the feet of the pretty young bride; though Mr. Hodson -rather interfered with that, claiming Mrs. Strang -as his own. Of course, Miss Kerfoot was rather -down-hearted, because of the absence of her Tom and his banjo; -but Ronald had promised her she should kill a salmon on -the morrow; and that comforted her a little. Mrs. Lalor -had recovered, and was chiefly an amused spectator; there -was a good deal of human nature about; and she had eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Altogether it was a pleasant enough evening; for, -although the Americans and the Scotch are the two nations -out of all the world that are the most madly given to -after-dinner speech-making, nothing of the kind was attempted: -Mr. Hodson merely raised his glass and gave 'The Bride!' -and Ronald said a few manly and sensible words in reply. -Even Mrs. Douglas so far forgot the majesty of Glengask -and Orosay as to become quite complaisant; perhaps she -reflected that it was, after all, chiefly through the kindness -of these people that her daughter and her daughter's -husband had been placed in a comfortable and assured -position.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ronald and Meenie had scarcely had time as yet to -cease from being lovers; and so it was that on this same -night he presented her with two or three more of those -rhymes that sometimes he still wrote about her when the -fancy seized him. In fact, he had written these verses as -he sate on the deck of the big screw-steamer, when she -was slowly steaming up the Raasay Sound.</span></p> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">O what's the sweetest thing there is</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In all the wide, wide world?—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">A rose that hides its deepest scent</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">In the petals closely curled?</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Of the honey that's in the clover;</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Or the lark's song in the morn;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Or the wind that blows in summer</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Across the fields of corn;</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Or the dew that the queen of the fairies</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">From her acorn-chalice sips?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Ah no; for sweeter and sweeter far</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span class="italics">Is a kiss from Meenie's lips!</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And Meenie was pleased—perhaps, indeed, she said as -much and showed as much, when nobody was by; but all -the same she hid away the little fragment among a mass -of similar secret treasures she possessed; for she was a -young wife now; and fully conscious of the responsibilities -of her position; and well was she aware that it would -never do for any one to imagine that nonsense of that kind -was allowed to interfere with the important public duties -of the factor of Balnavrain.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>THE END.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">NOVELS BY WILLIAM BLACK.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Crown 8vo. 6s. each.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PHAETON. 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