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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9374-h.zip b/9374-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b9f2d82 --- /dev/null +++ b/9374-h.zip diff --git a/9374-h/9374-h.htm b/9374-h/9374-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..820fe9e --- /dev/null +++ b/9374-h/9374-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9618 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + A Knight of the Nets, by Amelia E. Barr + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-family: Times New Roman; font-style: italic; font-size: 100%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Night of the Nets, by Amelia E. Barr + +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 Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Night of the Nets + +Author: Amelia E. Barr + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9374] +First Posted: September 26, 2003 +Last Updated: November 21, 2018 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A NIGHT OF THE NETS *** + + +Etext produced by Juliet Sutherland, Tonya Allen and PG +Distributed Proofreaders, from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions. + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + A KNIGHT OF THE NETS + </h1> + <h2> + By Amelia E. Barr + </h2> + <h3> + 1896 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +<i>Grey sky, brown waters: as a bird that flies + My heart flits forth to these; +Back to the winter rose of Northern skies, + Back to the Northern seas</i>. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. — THE WORLD SHE LIVED IN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. — CHRISTINA AND ANDREW </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. — THE AILING HEART </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. — THE LAST OF THE WHIP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. — THE LOST BRIDE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. — WHERE IS MY MONEY? </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. — THE BEGINNING OF THE END + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. — A GREAT DELIVERANCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. — THE RIGHTING OF A WRONG </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. — “TAKE ME IN TO DIE!” + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. — DRIVEN TO HIS DUTY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. — AMONG HER OWN PEOPLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. — THE “LITTLE SOPHY” + </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. — THE WORLD SHE LIVED IN + </h2> + <p> + It would be easy to walk many a time through “Fife and all the lands + about it” and never once find the little fishing village of + Pittendurie. Indeed, it would be a singular thing if it was found, unless + some special business or direction led to it. For clearly it was never + intended that human beings should build homes where these cottages cling + together, between sea and sky,—a few here, and a few there, hidden + away in every bend of the rocks where a little ground could be levelled, + so that the tides in stormy weather break with threat and fury on the very + doorstones of the lowest cottages. Yet as the lofty semicircle of hills + bend inward, the sea follows; and there is a fair harbour, where the + fishing boats ride together while their sails dry in the afternoon sun. + Then the hamlet is very still; for the men are sleeping off the weariness + of their night work, while the children play quietly among the tangle, and + the women mend the nets or bait the lines for the next fishing. A lonely + little spot, shut in by sea and land, and yet life is there in all its + passionate variety—love and hate, jealousy and avarice, youth, with + its ideal sorrows and infinite expectations, age, with its memories and + regrets, and “sure and certain hope.” + </p> + <p> + The cottages also have their individualities. Although they are much of + the same size and pattern, an observing eye would have picked out the + Binnie cottage as distinctive and prepossessing. Its outside walls were as + white as lime could make them; its small windows brightened with geraniums + and a white muslin curtain; and the litter of ropes and nets and drying + fish which encumbered the majority of thatches, was pleasantly absent. + Standing on a little level, thirty feet above the shingle, it faced the + open sea, and was constantly filled with the confused tones of its sighing + surges, and penetrated by its pulsating, tremendous vitality. + </p> + <p> + It had been the home of many generations of Binnies, and the very old, and + the very young, had usually shared its comforts together; but at the time + of my story, there remained of the family only the widow of the last + proprietor, her son Andrew, and her daughter Christina. Christina was + twenty years old, and still unmarried,—a strange thing in + Pittendurie, where early marriages are the rule. Some said she was vain of + her beauty and could find no lad whom she thought good enough; others + thought she was a selfish, cold-hearted girl, feared for the cares and the + labours of a fisherman’s wife. + </p> + <p> + On this July afternoon, the girl had been some hours mending the pile of + nets at her feet; but at length they were in perfect order, and she threw + her arms upward and outward to relieve their weariness, and then went to + the open door. The tide was coming in, but the children were still + paddling in the salt pools and on the cold bladder rack, and she stepped + forward to the edge of the cliff, and threw them some wild geranium and + ragwort. Then she stood motionless in the bright sunlight, looking down + the shingle towards the pier and the little tavern, from which came, in + drowsy tones, the rough monotonous songs which seamen delight to sing—songs, + full of the complaining of the sea, interpreted by the hoarse, melancholy + voices of sea faring men. + </p> + <p> + Standing thus in the clear light, her great beauty was not to be denied. + She was tall and not too slender; and at this moment, the set of her head + was like that of a thoroughbred horse, when it pricks its ears to listen. + She had soft brown eyes, with long lashes and heavy eyebrows—eyes, + reflecting the lances of light that darted in and out of the shifting + clouds—an open air complexion, dazzling, even teeth, an abundance of + dark, rippling hair, and a flush of ardent life opening her wide nostrils, + and stirring gently the exquisite mould of her throat and bust. The moral + impression she gave was that of a pure, strong, compassionate woman; + cool-headed, but not cold; capable of vigorous joys and griefs. + </p> + <p> + After a few minutes’ investigation, she went back to the cottage, + and stood in the open doorway, with her head leaning against the lintel. + Her mother had begun to prepare the evening meal; fresh fish were frying + on the fire, and the oat cakes toasting before it. Yet, as she moved + rapidly about, she was watching her daughter and very soon she gave words + to the thoughts troubling and perplexing her motherly speculations. + </p> + <p> + “Christina,” she said, “you’ll not require to be + looking for Andrew. The lad is ben the house; he has been asleep ever + since he eat his dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Well then, if it is Jamie Logan, let me tell you it is a poor + business. I have a fear and an inward down-sinking anent that young man.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfect nonsense, Mother! There is nothing to fear you about Jamie.” + </p> + <p> + “What good ever came through folk saved from the sea? Tell me that, + Christina! They bring sorrow back with them. That is a fact none will + deny.” + </p> + <p> + “What could Andrew do but save the lad?” + </p> + <p> + “Why was the lad running before such a sea? He should have got into + harbour; there was time enough. And if it was Andrew’s duty to save + him, it is not your duty to be loving him. You may take that much sense + from me, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Whist, Mother</i>! He has not said a word of love to me.” + </p> + <p> + “He perfectly changes colours every time he sees you, and why so, if + it be not for love of you? I am not liking the look of the thing, + Christina, and your brother is not liking it; and if you don’t take + care of yourself, you’ll be in a burning fever of first love, and + beyond all reasoning. Even now, you are making yourself a speculation to + the whole village.” + </p> + <p> + “Jamie is a straight-forward lad. I’m thinking he would lay + his life down for me.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought he had not said a word of love to you.” + </p> + <p> + “A girl knows some things that are not told her.” + </p> + <p> + “Very fine; but it will not be the fashion now to lie down and die + for Annie Laurie, or any other lass. A young man who wants a wife must + bustle around and get siller to keep her with. Getting married, these days + is not a thing to make a song about. You are but a young thing yet, + Christina, and you have much to learn.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you not like to be young again, Mother?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I would not! I would not risk it. Besides, it would be going + back; and I want to go forward and upward. But you need not try to turn + the talk from Jamie Logan that way. I’ll say again what I said + before, you will be in a fever of first love, and not to be reasoned with, + if you don’t take care of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + The girl flushed hotly, came into the house, and began to re-arrange the + teacups with a nervous haste; for she heard Jamie’s steps on the + rocky road, and his voice, clear as a blackbird’s, whistling gayly + “In the Bay of Biscay O!” + </p> + <p> + “The teacups are all right, Christina. I am talking anent Jamie + Logan. The lad is just a temptation to you; and you will require to ask + for strength to be kept out of temptation; for the Lord knows, the best of + us don’t expect strength to resist it.” + </p> + <p> + Christina turned her face to her mother, and then left her answer to Jamie + Logan. For he came in at the moment with a little tartan shawl in his + hand, which he gallantly threw across the shoulders of Mistress Binnie. + </p> + <p> + “I have just bought it from a peddler loon,” he said. “It + is bonnie and soft, and it sets you well, and I hope you will pleasure me + by wearing it.” + </p> + <p> + His face was so bright, his manner so charming, that it was impossible for + Janet Binnie to resist him. “You are a fleeching, flattering laddie,” + she answered; but she stroked and fingered the gay kerchief, while + Christina made her observe how bright were the colours of it, and how + neatly the soft folds fell around her. Then the door of the inner room + opened, and Andrew came sleepily out. + </p> + <p> + “The fish is burning,” he said, “and the oat cakes too; + for I am smelling them ben the house;” and Janet ran to her + fireside, and hastily turned her herring and cakes. + </p> + <p> + “I’m feared you won’t think much of your meat to-night,” + she said regretfully; “the tea is fairly ruined.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the meat, Mother,” said Andrew. “We don’t + live to eat.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the meat, indeed! What perfect nonsense! There is + something wrong with folk that don’t mind their meat.” + </p> + <p> + “Well then, you shouldn’t be so vain of yourself, Mother. You + were preening like a young girl when I first got sight of you—and + the meat taking care of itself.” + </p> + <p> + “Me, vain! No! No! Nobody that knows Janet Binnie can ever say she + is vain. I wot well that I am a frail, miserable creature, with little + need of being vain, either for myself or my children. You are a great hand + at arguing, Andrew, but you are always in the wrong. But draw to the table + and eat. I’ll warrant the fish will prove better than it is bonnie.” + </p> + <p> + They sat down with a pleasant content that soon broadened into mirth and + laughter, as Jamie Logan began to tell and to show how the peddler lad had + fleeched and flethered the fisher wives out of their bawbees; adding at + the last “that he could not come within sight of their fine words, + they were that civil to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Senselessly civil, no doubt of it,” answered Janet. “A + peddler aye gives the whole village a fit of the liberalities. The like of + Jean Robertson spending a crown on him! Foolish woman, the words are not + to seek that she’ll get from me in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + Then Jamie took a letter from his pocket, and showed it to Andrew Binnie. + “Robert Toddy brought it this morning,” he said, “and, + as you may see, it is from the firm of Henderson Brothers, Glasgow; and + they say there will be a berth for me very soon now in one of their ships. + And their boats are good, and their captains good, and there is chances + for a fine sailor on that line. I may be a captain myself one of these + days!” and he laughed so gayly, and looked so bravely into the face + of such a bold idea, that he persuaded every one else to expect it for + him. Janet pulled her new shawl a little closer and smiled, and her + thought was: “After all, Christina may wait longer, and fare worse; + for she is turned twenty.” Yet she showed a little reserve as she + asked:— + </p> + <p> + “Are you then Glasgow-born, Jamie?” + </p> + <p> + “Me! Glasgow-born! What are you thinking of? I am from the auld East + Neuk; and I am glad and proud of being a Fifer. All my common sense comes + from Fife. There is none loves the ‘Kingdom’ more than I, + Jamie Logan. We are all Fife together. I thought you knew it.” + </p> + <p> + At these words there was a momentary shadow across the door, and a little + lassie slipped in; and when she did so, all put down their cups to welcome + her. Andrew reddened to the roots of his hair, his eyes filled with light, + a tender smile softened his firm mouth, and he put out his hand and drew + the girl to the chair which Christina had pushed close to his own. + </p> + <p> + “You are welcome, and more than welcome, Sophy,” said the + Mistress; but for all that, she gave Sophy a glance in which there was + much speculation not unmixed, with fear and disapproval. For it was easy + to see that Andrew Binnie loved her, and that she was not at all like him, + nor yet like any of the fisher-girls of Pittendurie. Sophy, however, was + not responsible for this difference; for early orphanage had placed her in + the care of an aunt who carried on a dress and bonnet making business in + Largo, and she had turned the little fisher-maid into a girl after her own + heart and wishes. + </p> + <p> + Sophy, indeed, came frequently to visit her people in Pittendurie; but she + had gradually grown less and less like them, and there was no wonder + Mistress Binnie asked herself fearfully, “what kind of a wife at all + Sophy would make for a Fife fisherman?” She was so small and genty, + she had such a lovely face, such fair rippling hair, and her gown was of + blue muslin made in the fashion of the day, and finished with a lace + collar round her throat, and a ribbon belt round her slender waist. + </p> + <p> + “A bonnie lass for a carriage and pair,” thought Janet Binnie; + “but whatever will she do with the creel and the nets? not to speak + of the bairns and the housework?” + </p> + <p> + Andrew was too much in love to consider these questions. When he was six + years old, he had carried Sophy in his arms all day long; when he was + twelve, they had paddled on the sands, and fished, and played, and learned + their lessons together. She had promised then to be his wife as soon as he + had a house and a boat of his own; and never for one moment since had + Andrew doubted the validity and certainty of this promise. To Andrew, and + to Andrew’s family, and to the whole village of Pittendurie, the + marriage of Andrew Binnie and Sophy Traill was a fact beyond disputing. + Some said “it was the right thing,” and more said “it + was the foolish thing,” and among the latter was Andrew’s + mother; though as yet she had said it very cautiously to Andrew, whom she + regarded as “clean daft and senselessly touchy about the girl.” + </p> + <p> + But she sent the young people out of the house while she redd up the + disorder made by the evening meal; though, as she wiped her teacups, she + went frequently to the little window, and looked at the four sitting + together on the bit of turf which carpeted the top of the cliff before the + cottage. Andrew, as a privileged lover, held Sophy’s hand; Christina + sat next her brother, and facing Jamie Logan, so it was easy to see how + her face kindled, and her manner softened to the charm of his merry + conversation, his snatches of breezy sea-song, and his clever bits of + mimicry. And as Janet walked to and fro, setting her cups and plates in + the rack, and putting in place the tables and chairs she did what we might + all do more frequently and be the wiser for it—she talked to + herself, to the real woman within her, and thus got to the bottom of + things. + </p> + <p> + In less than an hour there began to be a movement about the pier, and then + Andrew and Jamie went away to their night’s work; and the girls sat + still and watched the men across the level sands, and the boats hurrying + out to the fishing grounds. Then they went back to the cottage, and found + that Mistress Binnie had taken her knitting and gone to chat with a crony + who lived higher up the cliff. + </p> + <p> + “We are alone, Sophy” said Christina; “but women folk + are often that.” She spoke a little sadly, the sweet melancholy of + conscious, but unacknowledged love being heavy in her heart, and she would + not have been sorry, had she been quite alone with her vaguely happy + dreams. Neither of the girls was inclined to talk, but Christina wondered + at Sophy’s silence, for she had been unusually merry while the young + men were present. + </p> + <p> + Now she sat quiet on the door step, clasping her left knee with little + white hands that had no sign of labour on them but the mark of the needle + on the left forefinger. At her side, Christina stood, her tall straight + figure fittingly clad in a striped blue and white linsey petticoat, and a + little josey of lilac print, cut low enough to show the white, firm throat + above it. Her fine face radiated thought and feeling; she was on the verge + of that experience which glorifies the simplest life. The exquisite + glooming, the tender sky, the full heaving sea, were all in sweetest + sympathy; they were sufficient; and Sophy’s thin, fretful voice + broke the charm and almost offended her. + </p> + <p> + “It is a weary life, Christina. How do you thole it?” + </p> + <p> + “You are just talking, Sophy. You were happy enough half an hour + since.” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn’t happy at all.” + </p> + <p> + “You let on like you were. I should think you would be as fear’d + to act a lie, as to tell one.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be going away from Pittendurie in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “I have my reasons.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt you have a ‘because’ of your own. But what + will Andrew say? He is not expecting you to leave to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care what Andrew says.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophy Traill!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t. Andrew Binnie is not the whole of life to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever is the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Then there was a pause, and Christina’s thoughts flew seaward. In a + few minutes, however, Sophy began talking again. “Do you go often + into Largo, Christina?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Whiles, I take myself that far. You may count me up for the last + year; for I sought you every time.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay! Do you mind on the road a real grand house, fine and old, with + a beautiful garden and peacocks in it—trailing their long feathers + over the grass and gravel?” + </p> + <p> + “You will be meaning Braelands? Folks could not miss the place, even + if they tried to.” + </p> + <p> + “Well then, did you ever notice a young man around? He is always + dressed for the saddle, or else he is in the saddle, and so most sure to + have a whip in his hand.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about? What is the young man to you?” + </p> + <p> + “He is brawly handsome. They call him Archie Braelands.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard tell of him. And by what is said, I should not think + he was an improving friend for any good girl to have.” + </p> + <p> + “This, or that, he likes me. He likes me beyond everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what you are saying, Sophy Traill?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, fine.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you liking him?” + </p> + <p> + “It would not be hard to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he ever spoke to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he is not as shy as a fisher-lad. I find him in my way when I’m + not thinking. And see here, Christina; I got a letter from him this + afternoon. A real love letter! Such lovely words! They are like poetry; + they are as sweet as singing.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you tell Andrew this?” + </p> + <p> + “Why would I do that?” + </p> + <p> + “You are a false little cutty, then. I would tell Andrew myself, but + I am loath to hurt his true heart. Now you are to let Archie Braelands + alone, or I will know the reason why.” + </p> + <p> + “Preserve us all! What a blazing passion for nothing at all! Can’t + a lassie chat with a lad for a half hour without calling a court of + sessions about it?” and she rose and shook out her dress, saying + with an air of offence:— + </p> + <p> + “You may tell Andrew, if you like to. It would be a very poor thing + if a girl is to be miscalled every time a man told her she was pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not saying any woman can help men making fools of + themselves; but you should have told Braelands that you were all the same + as married, being promised so long to Andrew Binnie. And you ought to have + told Andrew about the letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Everybody can’t live in Pittendurie, Christina. And if you + live with a town full of folk, you cannot go up and down, saying to every + man you meet, ‘please, sir, I have a lad of my own, and you are not + to cast a look at me, for Andrew Binnie would not like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue, Sophy, or else know what you are yattering about. + I would think shame to talk so scornful of the man I was going to marry.” + </p> + <p> + “You can let it go for a passing remark. And if I have said anything + to vex you, we are old friends, Christina, and it is not a lad that will + part us. Sophy requires a deal of forgiving.” + </p> + <p> + “She does,” said Christina with a smile; “so I just + forgive her as I go along, for she is still doing something out of the + way. But you must not treat Andrew ill. I could not love you, Sophy, if + you did the like of that. And you must always tell me everything about + yourself, and then nothing will go far wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Even that. I am not given to lying unless it is worth my while. I’ll + tell you aught there is to tell. And there is a kiss for Andrew, and you + may say to him that I would have told him I was going back to Largo in the + morning, only that I cannot bear to see him unhappy. That a message to set + him on the mast-head of pride and pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “I will give Andrew the kiss and the message, Sophy. And you take my + advice, and keep yourself clear of that young Braelands. I am particular + about my own good name, and I mean to be particular about yours.” + </p> + <p> + “I have had your advice already, Christina.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this is a forgetful world, so I just mention the fact again.” + </p> + <p> + “All the same, you might remember, Christina, that there was once a + woman who got rich by minding her own business;” and with a laugh, + the girl tied her bonnet under her chin, and went swiftly down the cliff + towards the village. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. — CHRISTINA AND ANDREW + </h2> + <p> + This confidence greatly troubled Christina; and as Sophy crossed the sands + and vanished into the shadows beyond, a strange, sad presentiment of + calamity oppressed her heart. Being herself in the enthusiasm of a first + love, she could not conceive such treachery possible as Sophy’s word + seemed to imply. The girl had always been petted, and yet discontented + with her situation; and had often made complaints which had no real + foundation, and which in brighter moods she was likely to repudiate. And + this night Andrew, instead of her Aunt Kilgour, was the object of her + dissatisfaction—that would be all. To-morrow she would be + complaining to Andrew of her aunt’s hard treatment of her, and + Andrew would be whispering of future happiness in her ears. + </p> + <p> + Upon the whole, therefore, Christina thought it would be cruel and foolish + to tell her brother a word of what Sophy had said. Why should she disturb + his serene faith in the girl so dear to him, until there was some more + evident reason to do so? He was, as his mother said, “very touchy” + about Sophy, being well aware that the village did not approve of the + changes in her dress, and of those little reluctances and reserves in her + behaviour, which had sprung up inevitably amid the refinements and wider + acquaintances of town life. + </p> + <p> + “And so many things happen as the clock goes round,” she + thought. “Braelands may say or do something that will put him out of + favour. Or he may take himself off to a foreign country—he is gey + fond of France and Germany too—and Goodness knows he will never be + missed in Fifeshire. Or <i>them behind</i> may sort what flesh and blood + cannot manage; so I will keep a close mouth anent the matter. One may + think what one dare not say; for words, once spoken, cannot be wiped out + with a sponge—and more’s the pity!” + </p> + <p> + Christina had also reached a crisis in her own life,—a crisis so + important, that it quite excused the apparent readiness with which she + dismissed Sophy’s strange confidence. For the feeling between Jamie + Logan and herself had grown to expression, and she was well aware that + what had hitherto been in a large measure secret and private to + themselves, had this night become evident to others. And she was not sure + how Jamie would be received. Andrew had saved his life in a sudden storm, + and brought him to the Binnie cottage until he should be able to return to + his own place. But instead of going away, he had hired his time for the + herring season to a Pittendurie fisherman; and every spare hour had found + him at the Binnie cottage, wooing the handsome Christina. + </p> + <p> + The village was not unanimously in his favour. No one could say anything + against Jamie Logan; but he was a stranger, and that fact was hard to get + over. A man must serve a very strict and long probation to be adopted into + a Fife fishing community, and it was considered “very upsetting” + for an unkent man to be looking up to the like of Christina Binnie,—a + lass whose forbears had been in Pittendurie beyond the memory or the + tradition of its inhabitants. + </p> + <p> + Janet also was not quite satisfied; and Christina knew this. She expected + her daughter to marry a fisherman, but at least one who owned his share in + a good boat, and who had a house to take a wife to. This strange lad was + handsome and good-tempered; but, as she reflected, and not unfrequently + said, “good looks and a laugh and a song, are not things to lippen + to for housekeeping.” So, on the whole, Christina had just the same + doubts and anxieties as might trouble a fine lady of family and wealth, + who had fallen in love with some handsome fellow whom her relatives were + uncertain about favouring. + </p> + <p> + A week after Sophy’s visit, however, Jamie found the unconquerable + hour in which every true love comes to its blossoming. It was the Sabbath + night, and a great peace was over the village. The men sat at their doors + talking in monosyllables to their wives and mates; the children were + asleep; and the full ocean breaking and tinkling upon the shingly coast. + They had been at kirk together in the afternoon, and Jamie had taken tea + with the Binnies after the service. Then Andrew had gone to see Sophy, and + Janet to help a neighbour with a sick husband; so Jamie, left with + Christina, had seized gladly his opportunity to teach her the secret of + her own heart. + </p> + <p> + Sitting on the lonely rocks, with the moonlit sea at their feet, they had + confessed to each other how sweet it was to love. And the plans growing + out of this confession, though humble enough, were full of strange hope + and happy dreaming to Christina. For Jamie had begged her to become his + wife as soon as he got his promised berth on the great Scotch line, and + this event would compel her to leave Pittendurie and make her home in + Glasgow,—two facts, simply stupendous to the fisher-girl, who had + never been twenty miles from her home, and to whom all life outside the + elementary customs of Pittendurie was wonderful and a little frightsome. + </p> + <p> + But she put her hand in Jamie’s hand, and felt his love sufficient + for whatever love might bring or demand. Any spot on earth would be heaven + to her with him, and for him; and she told him so, and was answered as + women love to be answered, with a kiss that was the sweetness and + confidence of all vows and promises. Among these simple, straight-forward + people, there are no secrecies in love affairs; and the first thing Jamie + did was to return to the cottage with Christina to make known the + engagement they had entered into. + </p> + <p> + They met Andrew on the sands. He had been disappointed. Sophy had gone out + with a friend, and her aunt had seemed annoyed and had not asked him to + wait. He was counting up in his mind how often this thing had happened + lately, and was conscious of an unhappy sense of doubt and unkindness + which was entirely new to him. But when Christina stepped to his side, and + Jamie said frankly, “Andrew, your dear sweet sister loves me, and + has promised to be my wife, and I hope you will give us the love and + favour we are seeking,” Andrew looked tenderly into his sister’s + face, and their smiles met and seemed to kiss each other. And he took her + hand between his own hands, and then put it into Jamie’s. + </p> + <p> + “You shall be a brother to me, Jamie,” he said; “and we + will stand together always, for the sake of our bonnie Christina.” + And Jamie could not speak for happiness; but the three went forward with + shining eyes and linked hands, and Andrew forgot his own fret and + disappointment, in the joy of his sister’s betrothal. + </p> + <p> + Janet came home as they sat in the moonlight outside the cottage. “Come + into the house,” she cried, with a pretense of anger. “It is + high time for folk who have honest work for the morn to be sleeping. What + hour will you get to the week’s work, I wonder, Christina? If I + leave the fireside for a minute or two, everything stops but daffing till + I get back again. What for are you sitting so late?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a good reason, Mother!” said Andrew, as he rose and + with Jamie and Christina went into the cottage. “Here is our + Christina been trysting herself to Jamie, and I have been giving them some + good advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Good advice!” laughed Janet. “Between you and Jamie + Logan, it is the blind leading the blind, and nothing better. One would + think there was no other duty in life than trysting and marrying. I have + just heard tell of Flora Thompson and George Buchan, and now it is + Christina Binnie and Jamie Logan. The world is given up, I think, to this + weary lad and lass business.” + </p> + <p> + But Janet’s words belied her voice and her benign face. She was + really one of those delightful women who are “easily persuaded,” + and who readily accept whatever is, as right. For she had naturally one of + the healthiest of human souls; besides which, years had brought her that + tender sagacity and gentleness, which does not often come until the head + is gray and the brow furrowed. So, though her words were fretful, they + were negatived by her beaming smile, and by the motherly fashion in which + she drew Christina to her side and held out her hand to Jamie. + </p> + <p> + “You are a pair of foolish bairns,” she said; “and you + little know what will betide you both.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but love and happiness, Mother,” answered Jamie. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well! look for good, and have good. I will not be one to ask + after evil for you. But mind one thing, Jamie, you are marrying a woman, + and not an angel. And, Christina, if you trust to any man, don’t + expect over much of him; the very best of them will stumble once in a + while.” + </p> + <p> + Then she drew forward the table, and put on the kettle and brewed some + toddy, and set it out with toasted cake and cheese, and so drank, with + cheerful moderation, to the health and happiness of the newly-promised + lovers. And afterwards “the books” were opened, and Andrew, + who was the priest of the family, asked the blessing of the Infinite One + on all its relationships. Then the happiness that had been full of smiles + and words became too deep for such expression, and they clasped hands and + kissed each other “good night” in a silence, that was too + sweetly solemn and full of feeling for the translation of mere language. + </p> + <p> + Before the morning light, Mistress Binnie had fully persuaded herself that + Christina was going to make an unusually prosperous marriage. All her + doubts had fled. Jamie had spoken out like a man, he had the best of + prospects, and the wedding was likely to be something beyond a simple + fisherman’s bridal. She could hardly wait until the day’s work + was over, and the evening far enough advanced for a gossiping call on her + crony, Marget Roy. Last night she had fancied Marget told her of Flora + Thompson’s betrothal with an air of pity for Christina; there was + now a delightful retaliation in her power. But she put on an expression of + dignified resignation, rather than one of pleasure, when she made known + the fact of Christina’s approaching marriage. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear tell of it,” said Marget frankly. “Christina + will make a good wife, and she will keep a tidy house, I’ll warrant + her.” + </p> + <p> + “She will, Marget. And it is a very important thing; far more so + than folks sometimes think. You may put godliness into a woman after she + is a wife, but you can not put cleanliness; it will have to be born in + her.” + </p> + <p> + “And so Jamie Logan is to have a berth from the Hendersons? That is + far beyond a place in Lowrie’s herring boats.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m thinking he just stopped with Lowrie for the sake of + being near-by to Christina. A lad like him need not have spent good time + like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Janet, it is a good thing for your Christina, and I am glad + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is;” answered Janet, with a sigh and a smile. “The + lad is sure to get on; and he’s a respectable lad—a Fifer from + Kirkcaldy—handsome and well-spoken of; and I am thinking the <i>Line</i> + has a big bargain in him, and is proud of it. Still, I’m feared for + my lassie, in such an awful, big, wicked-like town as Glasgow.” + </p> + <p> + “She’ll not require to take the whole town in. She will have + her Bible, and her kirk, and her own man. There is nothing to fear you. + Christina has her five senses.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt. And she is to have a floor of her own and all things + convenient; so there is comfort and safety in the like of that.” + </p> + <p> + “What for are you worrying yourself then?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s contingencies, Marget,—contingencies. And you + know Christina is my one lassie, and I am sore to lose her. But ‘lack + a day! we cannot stop the clock. And marriage is like death—it is + what we must all come to.” + </p> + <p> + “Well Janet, your Christina has been long spared from it. She’ll + be past twenty, I’m thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “Christina has had her offers, Marget. But what will you? We must + all wait for the right man, or go to the de’il with the wrong one.” + </p> + <p> + Thus the conversation went on, until Janet had exhausted all the + advantages and possibilities that were incident to Christina’s good + fortune. And perhaps it was out of a little feeling of weariness of the + theme, that Marget finally reminded her friend that she would be “lonely + enough wanting her daughter,” adding, “I was hearing too, that + Andrew is not to be kept single much longer; and it will be what no one + expects if Sophy Traill ever fills Christina’s shoes.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophy is well enough,” answered Janet with a touch of pride. + “She suits Andrew, and it is Andrew that has to live with her.” + </p> + <p> + “And you too, Janet?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I! Andrew is to build his own bigging. I have the life rent of + mine. But I shall be a deal in Glasgow myself. Jamie has his heart fairly + set on that.” + </p> + <p> + She made this statement with an air of prideful satisfaction that was + irritating to Mistress Roy; and she was not inclined to let Janet enter + anew into a description of all the fine sights she was to see, the grand + guns of preachers she was to hear, and the trips to Greenock and Rothesay, + which Jamie said “would just fall naturally in the way of their + ordinary life.” So Marget showed such a hurry about her household + affairs as made Janet uncomfortable, and she rose with a little offence + and said abruptly:— + </p> + <p> + “I must be going. I have the kirkyard to pass; and between the day + and the dark it is but a mournful spot.” + </p> + <p> + “It is that,” answered Marget. “Folks should not be on + the road when the bodiless walk. They might be in their way, and so get + ill to themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Then good night, and good befall you;” but in spite of the + benediction, Janet felt nettled at her friend’s sudden lack of + interest. + </p> + <p> + “It was a spat of envy no doubt,” she thought; “but Lord’s + sake! envy is the most insinuating vice of the lot of them. It cannot + behave itself for an hour at a time. But I’m not caring! it is + better to be envied than pitied.” + </p> + <p> + These reflections kept away the thought and fear of the “bodiless,” + and she passed the kirkyard without being mindful of their proximity; the + coming wedding, and the inevitable changes it would bring, filling her + heart with all kinds of maternal anxieties, which in solitude would not be + put aside for all the promised pride and <i>eclat</i> of the event. As she + approached the cottage, she met Jamie and Christina coming down the + cliff-side together, and she cried, “Is that you, Jamie?” + </p> + <p> + “As far as I know, it’s myself, Mother,” answered Jamie. + </p> + <p> + “Then turn back, and I’ll get you a mouthful of bread and + cheese. You’ll be wanting it, no doubt; for love is but cold + porridge to a man that has to pull on the nets all night.” + </p> + <p> + “You have spoken the day after the fair, Mother,” answered + Jamie. “Christina has looked well to me, and I am bound for the + boats.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, your way be it.” + </p> + <p> + Then Christina turned back with her mother, and they went silently back to + the cottage, their hearts being busy with the new hopes and happiness that + had come into their hitherto uneventful lives. But reticence between this + mother and daughter was not long possible; they were too much one to have + reserves; and neither being sleepy, they soon began to talk over again + what they had discussed a hundred times before—the wedding dress, + and the wedding feast, and the napery and plenishing Christina was to have + for her own home. They sat on the hearth, before the bit of fire which was + always necessary in that exposed and windy situation; but the door stood + open, and the moon filled the little room with its placid and confidential + light. So it is no wonder, as they sat talking and vaguely wondering at + Andrew’s absence, Christina should tell her mother what Sophy had + said about Archie Braelands. + </p> + <p> + Janet listened with a dour face. For a moment she was glad; then she + lifted the poker, and struck a block of coal into a score of pieces, and + with the blow scattered the unkind, selfish thoughts which had sprung up + in her heart. + </p> + <p> + “It is what I expected,” she answered. “Just what I + expected, Christina. A lassie dressed up in muslin, and ribbons, and + artificial roses, isn’t the kind of a wife a fisherman wants—and + sooner or later, like goes to like. I am not blaming Sophy. She has tried + hard to be faithful to Andrew, but what then? Nothing happens for nothing; + and it will be a good thing for Andrew if Sophy leaves him; a good thing + for Sophy too, I’m thinking; and better <i>is</i> better, whatever + comes or goes.” + </p> + <p> + “But Andrew will fret himself sorely.” + </p> + <p> + “He will; no doubt of that. But Andrew has a good heart, and a good + heart breaks bad fortune. Say nothing at all to him. He is wise enough to + guide himself; though God knows! even the wisest of men will have a fool + in his sleeve sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Would there be any good in a word of warning? Just to prepare him + for the sorrow that is on the road.” + </p> + <p> + “There would be no sense in the like of it. If Andrew is to get the + fling and the buffet, he will take it better from Sophy than from any + other body. Let be, Christina. And maybe things will take a turn for the + dear lad yet. Hope for it anyhow. Hope is as cheap as despair.” + </p> + <p> + “Folks will be talking anon.” + </p> + <p> + “They are talking already. Do you think that I did not hear all this + clash and clavers before? Lucky Sims, and Marget Roy, and every fish-wife + in Pittendurie, know both the beginning and the end of it. They have seen + this, and they have heard that, and they think the very worst that can be; + you may be sure of that.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m thinking no wrong of Sophy.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I. The first calamity is to be born a woman; it sets the door + open for every other sorrow—and the more so, if the poor lassie is + bonnie and alone in the world. Sophy is not to blame; it is Andrew that is + in the fault.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you say such a thing as that, Mother?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you how. Andrew has been that set on having a house + for his wife, that he has just lost the wife while he was saving the + siller for the house. I have told him, and better told him to bring Sophy + here; but nothing but having her all to himself will he hear tell of. It + is pure, wicked selfishness in the lad! He simply cannot thole her to give + look or word to any one but himself. Perfect scand’lous selfishness! + That is where all the trouble has come from.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Whist, Mother</i>! He is most at the doorstep. That is Andrew’s + foot, or I am much mista’en.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’ll away to Lizzie Robertson’s for an hour. My + heart is knocking at my lips, and I’ll be saying what I would give + my last bawbee to unsay. Keep a calm sough, Christina.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not tell me that, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Just let Andrew do the talking, and you’ll be all right. It + is easy to put him out about Sophy, and then to come to words. Better keep + peace than make peace.” + </p> + <p> + She lifted the stocking she was knitting, and passed out of one door as + Andrew came in at the other. He entered with that air of strength and + capability so dear to the women of a household. He had on his kirk suit, + and Christina thought, as he sat down by the open window, how much + handsomer he looked in his blue guernsey and fishing cap. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll be needing a mouthful and a cup of tea, Andrew?” + she asked. + </p> + <p> + Andrew shook his head and answered pleasantly, “Not I, Christina. I + had my tea with Sophy. Where is mother?” + </p> + <p> + “She is gone to Lizzie Robertson’s for an hour. Her man is yet + very badly off. She said she would sit with him till the night turned. + Lizzie is most worn out, I’m sure, by this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is Jamie?” + </p> + <p> + “He said he was going to the fishing. He will have caught his boat, + or he would have been back here again by this hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we are alone? And like to be for an hour? eh, Christina?” + </p> + <p> + “There will be no one here till mother comes at the turn of the + night. What for are you asking the like of them questions, Andrew?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I have been seeking this hour. I have things to tell you, + Christina, that must never go beyond yourself; no, not even to mother, + unless the time comes for it. I am not going to ask you to give me your + word or promise. You are Christina Binnie, and that is enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say so. The man or woman who promises with an oath is not + to be trusted. There is you and me, and God for our witness. What ever you + have to say, the hearer and the witness is sufficient.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that. Christina, I have been this day to Edinburgh, and I + have brought home from the bank six hundred pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Six hundred pounds, Andrew! It is not believable.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Whist, woman!</i> I have six hundred pounds in my breast pocket, + and I have siller in the house beside. I have sold my share in the <i>Sure-Giver</i>,’ + and I have been saving money ever since I put on my first sea-boots.” + </p> + <p> + “I have always thought that saving money was your great fault, + Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. I know it myself only too well. Many’s the Sabbath + day I have been only a bawbee Christian, when I ought to have put a + shilling in the plate. But I just could not help it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you could.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Just try and believe that you are putting your collection into the + hand of God Almighty, and not into a siller plate. Then you will put the + shilling down and not the bawbee.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps. The thought is not a new one to me, and often I have + forced myself to give a white shilling instead of a penny-bit at the kirk + door, just to get the better of the de’il once in a while. But for + all that I know right well that saving siller is my besetting sin. + However, I have been saving for a purpose, and now I am most ready to take + the desire of my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a good desire; I am sure of that, Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it is; a very good one. What do you say to this? I am going + to put all my siller in a carrying steamer—one of the Red-White + fleet. And more to it. I am to be skipper, and sail her from the North Sea + to London.” + </p> + <p> + “Will she be a big boat, Andrew?” + </p> + <p> + “She will carry three thousand ‘trunks’ of fish in her + ice chambers. What do you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + “I am perfectly dazzled and dumbfoundered with the thought of it. + You will be a man of some weight in the world, when that comes to pass.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be Captain Binnie, of the North Sea fleet, and Sophy will + have reason enough for her muslins, and ribbons, and trinkum-trankums—God + bless her!” + </p> + <p> + “You are a far forecasting man, Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been able to clear my day and my way, by the help of + Providence, so far,” said Andrew, with a pious reservation; “just + as my decent kirk-going father was before me. But that is neither here nor + there, and please God, this will be a monumental year in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “It will that. To get the ship and the wife you want, within its + twelve bounds, is a blessing beyond ordinary. I am proud to hear tell of + such good fortune coming your way, Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; I knew you would. But I have the siller, and I have the skill, + and why shouldn’t I lift myself a bit?” + </p> + <p> + “And Sophy with you? Sophy will be an ornament to any place you lift + her to. And you may come to own a fishing fleet yourself some day, Andrew!” + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking of it,” he answered, with the air of a man who + feels himself master of his destiny. “But come ben the house with + me, Christina. I have something to show you.” + </p> + <p> + So they went together into an inner room, and Andrew moved aside a heavy + chest of drawers which stood against the wall. Then he lifted a short + plank beneath them, and putting his arm far under the flooring, he pulled + forth a tin box. + </p> + <p> + The key to it was in the leather purse in his breast pocket, and there was + a little tantalizing delay in its opening. But when the lid was lifted, + Christina saw a hoard of golden sovereigns, and a large roll of Bank of + England bills. Without a word Andrew added the money in his pocket to this + treasured store, and in an equal silence the flooring and drawers were + replaced, and then, without a word, the brother and sister left the room + together. + </p> + <p> + There was however a look of exultation on Christina’s face, and when + Andrew said “You understand now, Christina?” she answered in a + voice full of tender pride. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen. And I am sure that Andrew Binnie is not the man to be + moving without knowing the way he is going to take.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not moving at all, Christina, for three months or perhaps + longer. The ship I want is in dry dock until the winter, and it is all + this wealth of siller that I am anxious about. If I should go to the + fishing some night, and never come back, it would be the same as if it + went to the bottom of the sea with me, not a soul but myself knowing it + was there.” + </p> + <p> + “But not now, Andrew. You be to tell me what I am to do if the like + of that should happen, and your wish will be as the law of God to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of that, Christina. Take heed then. If I should go out + some night and the sea should get me, as it gets many better men, then you + will lift the flooring, and take the money out of hiding. And you will + give Sophy Traill one half of all there is. The other half is for mother + and yourself. And you will do no other way with a single bawbee, or the + Lord will set His face against it.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do just what you tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it. To think different, would be just incredible nonsense. + That is for the possibilities, Christina. For the days that are coming and + going, I charge you, Christina Binnie, never to name to mortal creature + the whereabouts of the money I have shown you.” + </p> + <p> + “Your words are in my heart, Andrew. They will never pass my lips.” + </p> + <p> + “Then that is enough of the siller. I have had a happy day with + Sophy, and O the grace of the lassie! And the sweet innocence and + lovesomeness of her pretty ways! She is budding into a very rose of + beauty! I bought her a ring with a shining stone in it, and a gold brooch, + and a bonnie piece of white muslin with the lace for the trimming of it; + and the joy of the little beauty set me laughing with delight. I would not + call the Queen my cousin, this night.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophy ought to love you with all her heart and soul, Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “She does. She has arled her heart and hand to me. I thank <i>The + Best</i> for this great mercy.” + </p> + <p> + “And you can trust her without a doubt, dear lad?” + </p> + <p> + “I have as much faith in Sophy Traill, as I have in my Bible.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the way to trust. It is the way I trust Jamie. But you’ll + mind how ready bad hearts and ill tongues are to give you a sense of + suspicion. So you’ll not heed a word of that kind, Andrew?” + </p> + <p> + “Not one. The like of such folk cannot give me a moment’s + trouble—there was Kirsty Johnston—” + </p> + <p> + “You may put Kirsty Johnston, and all she says to the wall.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m doing it; but she called after me this very evening, + ‘take care of yourself, Andrew Binnie.’ ‘And what for, + Mistress?’ I asked. ‘A beauty is hard to catch and worse to + keep,’ she answered; and then the laugh of her! But I didn’t + mind it, not I; and I didn’t give her word or look in reply; for + well I know that women’s tongues cannot be stopped, not even by the + Fourth Commandment.” + </p> + <p> + Then Andrew sat down and was silent, for a happiness like his is felt, and + not expressed. And Christina moved softly about, preparing the frugal + supper, and thinking about her lover in the fishing boats, until, the + table being spread, Andrew drew his chair close to his sister’s + chair, and spreading forth his hands ere he sat down, said solemnly;— + </p> + <p> + <i>“This is the change of Thy Right Hand, O Thou Most High! Thou art + strong to strengthen; gracious to help; ready to better; mighty to save, + Amen!”</i> + </p> + <p> + It was the prayer of his fathers for centuries—the prayer they had + used in all times of their joy and sorrow; the prayer that had grown in + his own heart from his birth, and been recorded for ever in the sagas of + his mother’s people. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. — THE AILING HEART + </h2> + <p> + Not often in her life had Christina felt so happy as she did at this + fortunate hour. Two things especially made her heart sing for joy; one was + the fact that Jamie had never been so tender, so full of joyful + anticipation, so proud of his love and his future, as in their interview + of that evening. The very thought of his beauty and goodness made her walk + unconsciously to the door, and look over the sea towards the + fishing-grounds, where he was doubtless working at the nets, and thinking + of her. And next to this intensely personal cause of happiness, was the + fact that of all his mates, and even before his mother or Sophy, Andrew + had chosen <i>her</i> for his confidant. She loved her brother very much, + and she respected him with an equal fervour. Few men, in Christina’s + opinion, were able to stand in Andrew Binnie’s shoes, and she felt, + as she glanced at his strong, thoughtful face, that he was a brother to be + very proud of. + </p> + <p> + He sat on the hearth with his arms crossed above his head, and a sweet, + grave smile irradiating his strong countenance, Christina knew that he was + thinking of Sophy, and as soon as she had spread the frugal meal, and they + had sat down to their cakes and cheese, Andrew began to talk of her. He + seemed to have dismissed absolutely the thought of the hidden money, and + to be wholly occupied with memories of his love. And as he talked of her, + his face grew vivid and tender, and he spoke like a poet, though he knew + it not. + </p> + <p> + “She is that sweet, Christina, it is like kissing roses to kiss her. + Her wee white hand on my red face is like a lily leaf. I saw it in the + looking-glass, as we sat at tea. And the ring, with the shining stone, set + it finely. I am the happiest man in the world, Christina!” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad with all my heart for you, Andrew, and for Sophy too. It + is a grand thing to be loved as you love her.” + </p> + <p> + “She is the sweetness of all the years that are gone, and of all + that are to come.” + </p> + <p> + “And Sophy loves you as you love her? I hope she does that, my dear + Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “She will do. She will do! no doubt of it, Christina! She is shy + now, and a bit frighted at the thought of marriage—she is such a + gentle little thing—but I will make her love me; yes I will! I will + make her love me as I love her. What for not?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure. Love must give and take equal, to be satisfied. I know + that myself. I am loving Jamie just as he loves me.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a brawly fine lad. Peddie was saying there wasn’t a + better worker, nor a merrier one, in the whole fleet.” + </p> + <p> + “A good heart is always a merry one, Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not doubting it.” + </p> + <p> + Thus they talked with kind mutual sympathy and confidence; and a certain + sweet serenity and glad composure spread through the little room, and the + very atmosphere was full of the peace and hope of innocent love. But some + divine necessity of life ever joins joy and sorrow together; and even as + the brother and sister sat speaking of their happiness, Christina heard a + footstep that gave her heart a shock. Andrew was talking of Sophy, and he + was not conscious of Jamie’s approach until the lad entered the + house. His face was flushed, and there was an air of excitement about him + which Andrew regarded with an instant displeasure and suspicion. He did + not answer Jamie’s greeting, but said dourly:— + </p> + <p> + “You promised to take my place in the boat to-night, Jamie Logan; + then what for are you here, at this hour? I see one thing, and that is, + you cannot be trusted to.” + </p> + <p> + “I deserve a reproof, Andrew, for I have earned it,” answered + Jamie; and there was an air of candid regret in his manner which struck + Christina, but which was not obvious to Andrew as he added, “I’ll + not lie to you, anent the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn’t. Nothing in life is worth a lie.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be, or not be. But it was just this way. I met an old + friend as I was on my way to the boat, and he was poor, and hungry, and + thirsty, and I be to take him to the ‘public,’ and give him a + bite and a sup. Then the whiskey set us talking of old times and old + acquaintances, and I clean forgot the fishing; and the boats went away + without me. And that is all there is to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Far too much! Far too much! A nice lad you will be to trust to in a + big ship full of men and women and children! A glass of whiskey, and a + crack in the public house, set before your promised word and your duty! + How will I trust Christina to you? When you make Andrew Binnie a promise, + he expects you to keep it. Don’t forget that! It may be of some + consequence to you if you are wanting his sister for a wife.” + </p> + <p> + With these words Andrew rose, went into his own room without a word of + good-night, and with considerable show of annoyance, closed and bolted the + door behind him. Jamie sat down by Christina, and waited for her to speak. + </p> + <p> + But it was not easy for her to do so. Try as she would, she could not show + him the love she really felt. She was troubled at his neglect of duty, and + so sorry that he, of all others, should have been the one to cast the + first shadow across the bright future which she had been anticipating + before his ill-timed arrival. It was love out of time and season, and + lacked the savour and spontaneity which are the result of proper + conditions. Jamie felt the unhappy atmosphere, and was offended. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not wanted here, it seems,” he said in a tone of + injury. + </p> + <p> + “You are wanted in the boat, Jamie; that is where the fault lies. + You should have been there. There is no outgait from that fact.” + </p> + <p> + “Well then, I have said I was sorry. Is not that enough?” + </p> + <p> + “For me, yes. But Andrew likes a man to be prompt and sure in + business. It is the only way to make money.” + </p> + <p> + “Make money! I can make money among Andrew Binnie’s feet, for + all he thinks so much of himself. A friend’s claims are before + money-making. I’ll stand to that, till all the seas go dry.” + </p> + <p> + “Andrew has very strict ideas; you must have found that out, Jamie, + and you should not go against them.” + </p> + <p> + “Andrew is headstrong as the north-wind. He goes clear o’er + the bounds both sides. Everything is the very worst, or the very best. I’m + not denying I was a bit wrong; but I consider I had a good excuse for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there ever a good excuse for doing wrong, Jamie? But we will let + the affair drop out of mind and talk. There are pleasanter things to speak + of, I’m sure.” + </p> + <p> + But the interview was a disappointment. Jamie went continually back to + Andrew’s reproof, and Christina herself seemed to be under a spell. + She could not find the gentle words that would have soothed her lover, her + manner became chill and silent; and Jamie finally went away, much hurt and + offended. Yet she followed him to the door, and watched him kicking the + stones out of his path as he went rapidly down the cliff-side. And if she + had been near enough, she would have heard him muttering angrily:— + </p> + <p> + “I’m not caring! I’m not caring! The moral pride of they + Binnies is ridic’lus! One would require to be a very saint to come + within sight of them.” + </p> + <p> + Such a wretched ending to an evening that had begun with so much hope and + love! Christina stood sadly at the open door and watched her lover across + the lonely sands, and felt the natural disappointment of the + circumstances. Then the moon began to rise, and when she noticed this, she + remembered how late her mother was away from home, and a slight uneasiness + crept into her heart. She threw a plaid around her head, and was going to + the neighbour’s where she expected to find her, when Janet appeared. + </p> + <p> + She came up to the cliff slowly, and her face was far graver than ordinary + when she entered the cottage, and with a pious ejaculation threw off her + shawl. + </p> + <p> + “What kept you at all, Mother? I was just going to seek you.” + </p> + <p> + “Watty Robertson has won away at last.” + </p> + <p> + “When did he die?” + </p> + <p> + “He went away with the tide. He was called just at the turn. Ah, + Christina, it is loving and dying all the time! Life is love and death; + for what is our life? It is even a vapour that appeareth for a little + time, and then vanisheth away.” + </p> + <p> + “But Watty was well ready for the change, Mother?” + </p> + <p> + “He went away with a smile. And I staid by poor Lizzie, for I have + drank of the same cup, and I know how bitter was the taste of it. Old + Elspeth McDonald stretched the corpse, and her and I had a change of + words; but Lizzie was with me.” + </p> + <p> + “What for did you clash at such a like time?” + </p> + <p> + “She covered up his face, and I said: ‘Stop your hand, + Elspeth. Don’t you go to cover Watty’s face now. He never did + ill to any one while he lived, and there’s no need to hide his face + when he is dead.’ And we had a bit stramash about it, for I can’t + abide to hide up the face that is honest and well loved, and Lizzie said I + was right, and so Elspeth went off in a tiff.” + </p> + <p> + “I think there must be ‘tiffs’ floating about in the air + to-night. Jamie and Andrew have had a falling out, and Jamie went away far + less than pleased with me.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s to do between them?” + </p> + <p> + “Jamie met with an old friend who was hungry and thirsty, and he + went with him to the ‘public’ instead of going to the boat for + Andrew, as he promised to do. You know how Andrew feels about a word + broken.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Toots</i>! Andrew Binnie has a deal to learn yet. You should + have told him it was better to show mercy, than to stick at a mouthful of + words. Had you never a soft answer to throw at the two fractious fools?” + </p> + <p> + “How could I interfere?” + </p> + <p> + “Finely! If you don’t know the right way to throw with a + thrawn man, like Andrew, and to come round a soft man, like Jamie, I’m + sorry for you! A woman with a thimble-full of woman-wit could ravel them + both up—ravel them up like a cut of worsteds.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the day is near over. The clock will chap twelve in ten + minutes, and I’m going to my bed. I’m feared you won’t + sleep much, Mother. You look awake to your instep.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. I have some good thoughts for the sleepless. Folks don’t + sleep well after seeing a man with wife and bairns round him look death + and judgment in the face.” + </p> + <p> + “But Watty looked at them smiling, you said?” + </p> + <p> + “He did. Watty’s religion went to the bottom and extremity of + things. I’ll be asking this night for grace to live with, and then I’ll + get grace to die with when my hour comes. You needn’t fash your + heart about me. Sleeping or waking, I am in His charge. Nor about Jamie; + he’ll be all right the morn. Nor about Andrew, for I’ll tell + him not to make a Pharisee of himself—he has his own failing, and it + isn’t far to seek.” + </p> + <p> + And it is likely Janet had her intended talk with her son, for nothing + more was said to Jamie about his neglect of duty; and the little cloud was + but a passing one, and soon blew over. Circumstances favoured oblivion. + Christina’s love encompassed both her brother and her lover, and + Janet’s womanly tact turned every shadow into sunshine, and disarmed + all suspicious or doubtful words. Also, the fishing season was an + unusually good one; every man was of price, and few men were better worth + their price than Jamie Logan. So an air of prosperity and happiness filled + each little cottage, and Andrew Binnie was certainly saving money—a + condition of affairs that always made him easy to live with. + </p> + <p> + As for the women of the village, they were in the early day up to their + shoulders in work, and in the more leisurely evenings, they had Christina’s + marriage and marriage presents to talk about. The girl had many friends + and relatives far and near, and every one remembered her. It was a set of + china from an aunt in Crail, or napery from some cousins in Kirkcaldy, or + quilts from her father’s folk in Largo, and so on, in a very + charming monotony. Now and then a bit of silver came, and once a very + pretty American clock. And there was not a quilt or a tablecloth, a bit of + china or silver, a petticoat or a ribbon, that the whole village did not + examine, and discuss, and offer their congratulations over. + </p> + <p> + Christina and her mother quite enjoyed this popular manifestation of + interest, and Jamie was not at all averse to the good-natured familiarity. + And though Andrew withdrew from such occasions, and appeared to be rather + annoyed than pleased by the frequent intrusion of strange women, neither + Janet nor Christina heeded his attitude very much. + </p> + <p> + “What for would we be caring?” queried the mother. “There + is just one woman in the world to Andrew. If it was Sophy’s + wedding-presents now, he would be in a wonder over them! But he is not + wanting you to marry at all, Christina. Men are a selfish lot. Somehow, I + think he has taken a doubt or a dislike to Jamie. He thinks he isn’t + good enough for you.” + </p> + <p> + “He is as good as I want him. I’m feared for men as particular + as Andrew. They are whiles gey ill to live with. Andrew has not had a + smile for a body for a long time, and he has been making money. I wonder + if there is aught wrong between Sophy and himself.” + </p> + <p> + “You might away to Largo and ask after the girl. She hasn’t + been here in a good while. And I’m thinking yonder talk she had with + you anent Archie Braelands wasn’t all out of her own head.” + </p> + <p> + So that afternoon Christina put on her kirk dress, and went to Largo to + see Sophy. Her walk took her over a lonely stretch of country, though, as + she left the coast, she came to a lovely land of meadows, with here and + there waving plantations of young spruce or fir trees. Passing the + entrance to one of these sheltered spots, she saw a servant driving + leisurely back and forward a stylish dog-cart; and she had a sudden + intuition that it belonged to Braelands. She looked keenly into the green + shadows, but saw no trace of any human being; yet she had not gone far, + ere she was aware of light footsteps hurrying behind her, and before she + could realise the fact, Sophy called her in a breathless, fretful way + “to wait a minute for her.” The girl came up flushed and + angry-looking, and asked Christina, “whatever brought her that far?” + </p> + <p> + “I was going to Largo to see you. Mother was getting worried about + you. It’s long since you were near us.” “I am glad I met + you. For I was wearied with the sewing to-day, and I asked Aunt to let me + have a holiday to go and see you; and now we can go home together, and she + will never know the differ. You must not tell her but what I have been to + Pittendurie. My goodness! It is lucky I met you.” + </p> + <p> + “But where have you been, Sophy?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been with a friend, who gave me a long drive.” + </p> + <p> + “Who would that be?” + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind. There is nothing wrong to it. You may trust me for + that, Christina. I was fairly worn out, and Aunt hasn’t a morsel of + pity. She thinks I ought to be glad to sew from Monday morning to Saturday + night, and I tell you it hurts me, and gives me a cough, and I had to get + a breath of sea-air or die for it. So a friend gave me what I wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you had come to our house, you could have got the sea-air + finely. Sophy! Sophy! I am misdoubting what you tell me. How came you in + the wood?” + </p> + <p> + “We were taking a bit walk by ourselves there. I love the smell of + the pines, and the peace, and the silence. It rests me; and I didn’t + want folks spying, and talking, and going with tales to Aunt. She ties me + up shorter than needs be now.” + </p> + <p> + “He was a mean fellow to leave you here all by yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I made him do it. Goodness knows, he is fain enough to be seen by + high and low with me. But Andrew would not like it; he is that + jealous-natured—and I just <i>be</i> to have some rest and fresh + air.” + </p> + <p> + “Andrew would gladly give you both.” + </p> + <p> + “Not he! He is away to the fishing, or about his business, one way + or another, all the time. And I am that weary of stitch, stitch, + stitching, I could cry at the thought of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it Archie Braelands that gave you the drive?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, it was. Archie is just my friend, nothing more. I have told + him, and better told him, that I am to marry Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a scoundrel then to take you out.” + </p> + <p> + “He is nothing of the kind. He is just a friend. I am doing Andrew + no wrong, and myself a deal of good.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why are you feared for people seeing you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not feared. But I don’t want to be the wonder and the + talk of every idle body. And I am not able to bear my aunt’s nag, + nag, nag at me. I wish I was married. It isn’t right of Andrew to + leave me so much to myself. It will be his own fault if he loses me + altogether. I am worn out with Aunt Kilgour, and my life is a fair + weariness to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Andrew is getting everything brawly ready for you. I wish I could + tell you what grand plans he has for your happiness. Be true to Andrew, + Sophy, and you will be the happiest bride, and the best loved wife in all + Scotland.” + </p> + <p> + “Plans! What plans? What has he told you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not free to speak, Sophy. I should not have said a word at + all. I hope you will just forget I have.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I will not! I will make Andrew tell me his plans. Why should + he tell you, and not me? It is a shame to treat me that way, and he shall + hear tell of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophy! Sophy! I would as lief you killed me as told Andrew I had + given you a hint of his doings. He would never forgive me. I can no + forgive myself. Oh what a foolish, wicked woman I have been to say a word + to you!” and Christina burst into passionate weeping. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Whist</i>! Christina; I’ll never tell him, not I! I know + well you slipped the words to pleasure me. But giff-gaff makes us good + friends, and so you must just walk to the door with me and pass a word + with my aunt, and say neither this nor that about me, and I will forget + you ever said Andrew had such a thing as a ‘plan’ about me.” + </p> + <p> + The proposal was not to Christina’s mind, but she was ready to face + any contingency rather than let Andrew know she had given the slightest + hint of his intentions. She understood what joy he had in the thought of + telling his great news to Sophy at its full time, and how angry he would + naturally feel at any one who interfered with his designs. In a moment, + without intention, with the very kindest of motives, she had broken her + word to her brother, and she was as miserable as a woman could be over the + unhappy slip. And Sophy’s proposal added to her remorse. It made her + virtually connive at Sophy’s intercourse with Archie Braelands, and + she felt herself to be in a great strait. In order to favour her brother + she had spoken hastily, and the swift punishment of her folly was that she + must now either confess her fault or tacitly sanction a wrong against him. + </p> + <p> + For the present, she could see no way out of the difficulty. To tell + Andrew would be to make him suspicious on every point. He would then + doubtless find some other hiding place for his money, and if any accident + did happen, her mother, and Sophy, and all Andrew loved, would suffer for + her indiscretion. She took Sophy’s reiterated promise, and then + walked with the girl to her aunt’s house. It was a neat stone + dwelling, with some bonnets and caps in the front window, and when the + door was opened, a bell rang, and Mistress Kilgour came hastily from an + inner room. She looked pleased when she saw Sophy and Christina, and said:— + </p> + <p> + “Come in, Christina. I am glad you brought Sophy home in such good + time. For I’m in a state of perfect frustration this afternoon. Here’s + a bride gown and bonnet to make, and a sound of more work coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is to be married, Miss Kilgour?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Kilrin of Silverhawes—a second affair, Christina, and + she more than middle-aged.” + </p> + <p> + “She is rich, though?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it! rich, but made up of odds and ends, and but one + eye to see with: a prelatic woman, too, seeking all things her own way.” + </p> + <p> + “And the man? Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He is a lawyer. Them gentry have their fingers in every pie, hot or + cold. However, I’m wishing them nothing but good. Madame is a + constant customer. Come, come, Christina, you are not going already?” + </p> + <p> + “I am hurried to-night. Mistress Kilgour. Mother is alone. Andrew is + away to Greenock on business.” + </p> + <p> + “So you came back with Sophy. I am glad you did. There are some + folks that are o’er ready to take charge of the girl, and some that + seem to think she can take charge of herself. Oh, she knows fine what I + mean!” And Miss Kilgour pointed her fore-finger at Sophy and shook + her head until all the flowers in her cap and all the ringlets on her + front hair dangled in unison. + </p> + <p> + Sophy had turned suddenly sulky and made no reply, and Miss Kilgour + continued: “It is her way always, when she has been to your house, + Christina. Whatever do you say to her? Is there anything agec between + Andrew and herself? Last week and the week before, she came back from + Pittendurie in a temper no saint could live with.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m so miserable. Aunt. I am miserable every hour of my life.” + </p> + <p> + “And you wouldn’t be happy unless you were miserable, Sophy. + Don’t mind her talk, Christina. Young things in love don’t + know what they want.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sick, Aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “You are in love, Sophy, and that is all there is to it. Don’t + go, Christina. Have a cup of tea first?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot stop any longer. Good-bye, Sophy. I’ll tell Andrew + to come and give you a walk to-morrow. Shall I?” + </p> + <p> + “If you like to. He will not come until Sunday, though; and then he + will be troubled about walking on the Sabbath day. I’m not caring to + go out.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a lie, Sophy Traill!” cried her aunt. “It is + the only thing you do care about.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better go home, Christina,” said Sophy, with a + sarcastic smile, “or you will be getting a share of temper that does + not belong to you. I am well used to it.” + </p> + <p> + Christina made an effort to consider this remark as a joke, and under this + cover took her leave. She was thankful to be alone with herself. Her + thoughts and feelings were in a tumult; she could not bring any kind of + reason out of their chaos. Her chagrin at her own folly was sharp and + bitter. It made her cry out against herself as she trod rapidly her + homeward road. Almost inadvertently, because it was the shortest and most + usual way, she took the route that led her past Braelands. The great house + was thrown open, and on the lawns was a crowd of handsomely dressed men + and women, drinking tea at little tables set under the trees and among the + shrubbery. Christina merely glanced at the brave show of shifting colour, + and passed more quickly onward, the murmur of conversation and the ripple + of laughter pursuing her a little way, for the evening was warm and quiet. + </p> + <p> + She thought of Sophy among this gay crowd, and felt the incongruity of the + situation, and a sense of anger sprung up in her breast at the girl’s + wicked impatience and unfaithfulness. It had caused her also to err, for + she had been tempted by it to speak words which had been a violation of + her own promise, and yet which had really done no good. + </p> + <p> + “She was always one of those girls that led others into trouble,” + she reflected. “Many a scolding she has got me when I was a wee + thing, and to think that now! with the promise to Andrew warm on my lips, + I have put myself in her power! It is too bad! It is not believable!” + </p> + <p> + She was glad when she came within sight of the sea; it was like a glimpse + of home. The damp, fresh wind with its strong flavour of brine put heart + into her, and the few sailors and fishers she met, with their sweethearts + on their arms and their blue shirts open at their throats, had all a merry + word or two to say to her. When she reached her home, she found Andrew + sitting at a little table looking over some papers full of strange marks + and columns of figures. His quick glance, and the quiet assurance of his + love contained in it, went sorely to her heart. She would have fallen at + his feet and confessed her unadvised admission to Sophy gladly, but she + doubted, whether it would be the kindest and wisest thing to do. + </p> + <p> + And then Janet joined them, and she had any number of questions to ask + about Sophy, and Christina, to escape being pressed on this subject, began + to talk with forced interest of Madame Kilrin’s marriage. So, + between this and that, the evening got over without suspicion, and + Christina carried her miserable sense of disloyalty to bed and to sleep + with her—literally to sleep, for she dreamed all night of the + circumstance, and awakened in the morning with a heart as heavy as lead. + </p> + <p> + “But it is just what I deserve!” she said crossly to herself, + as she laced her shoes, “what need had I to be caring about Sophy + Traill and her whims? She is a dissatisfied lass at the best, and her love + affairs are beyond my sorting. Serves you right, Christina Binnie! You + might know, if anybody might, that they who put their oar into another’s + boat are sure to get their fingers rapped. They deserve it too.” + </p> + <p> + However, Christina could not willingly dwell long on sorrowful subjects. + She was always inclined to subdue trouble swiftly, or else to shake it + away from her. For she lived by intuition, rather than by reason; and + intuition is born of, and fed by, home affection and devout religion. + Something too of that insight which changes faith into knowledge, and + which is the birthright of primitive natures, was hers, and she divined, + she knew not how, that Sophy would be true to her promise, and not say a + word which would lead Andrew to doubt her. And so far she was right. Sophy + had many faults, but the idea of breaking her contract with Christina did + not even occur to her. + </p> + <p> + She wondered what plans Andrew had, and what good surprise he was + preparing for her, but she was in no special hurry to find it out. The + knowledge might bring affairs to a permanent crisis between her and + Andrew,—might mean marriage—and Sophy dreaded to face this + question, with all its isolating demands. Her “friendship” + with Archie Braelands was very sweet to her; she could not endure to think + of any event which must put a stop to it. She enjoyed Archie’s + regrets and pleadings. She liked to sigh a little and cry a little over + her hard fate; to be sympathised with for it; to treat it as if she could + not escape from it; and yet to be nursing in her heart a passionate hope + to do so. + </p> + <p> + And after all, the process of reflection is unnatural and uncommon to nine + tenths of humanity; and so Christina lifted her daily work and interests, + and tried to forget her fault. And indeed, as the weeks went on, she tried + to believe it had been no fault, for Sophy was much kinder to Andrew for + some time; this fact being readily discernible in Andrew’s cheerful + moods, and in the more kindly interest which he then took in his home + matters. + </p> + <p> + “For it is well with us, when it is well with Sophy Traill, and we + have the home weather she lets us have,” Janet often remarked. The + assertion had a great deal of truth in it. Sophy, from her chair in + Mistress Kilgour’s workroom, greatly influenced the domestic + happiness of the Binnie cottage, even though they neither saw her, nor + spoke her name. But her moods made Andrew happy or miserable, and Andrew’s + moods made Janet and Christina happy or miserable; so sure and so + wonderful a thing is human solidarity. Yes indeed! For what one of us has + not known some man or woman, never seen, who holds the thread of a destiny + and yet has no knowledge concerning it. This thought would make life a + desperate tangle if we did not also know that One, infinite in power and + mercy, guides every event to its predestined and its wisest end. + </p> + <p> + For a little while after Christina’s visit, Sophy was particularly + kind to Andrew; then there came a sudden change, and Christina noticed + that her brother returned from Largo constantly with a heavy step and a + gloomy face. Occasionally he admitted to her that he had been “sorely + disappointed,” but as a general thing he shut himself in his room + and sulked as only men know how to sulk, till the atmosphere of the house + was tingling with suppressed temper, and every one was on the edge of + words that the tongue meant to be sharp as a sword. + </p> + <p> + One morning in October, Christina met her brother on the sands, and he + said, “I will take the boat and give you a sail, if you like, + Christina. There is only a pleasant breeze.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would, Andrew,” she answered. “This little + northwester will blow every weariful thought away.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m feared I have been somewhat cross and ill to do for, + lately. Mother says so.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother does not say far wrong. You have lost your temper often, + Andrew, and consequent your common sense. And it is not like you to be + unfair, not to say unkind; you have been that more than once, and to two + who love you dearly.” + </p> + <p> + Andrew said no more until they were on the bay, then he let the oars + drift, and asked:— + </p> + <p> + “What did you think of Sophy the last time you saw her? Tell me + truly, Christina.” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows aught about Sophy? She hardly knows her own mind. You + cannot tell what she is thinking about by her face, any more than you can + tell what she is going to do by her words. She is as uncertain as the + wind, and it has changed since you lifted the oars. Is there anything new + to fret yourself over?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, there is. I cannot get sight of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you twenty-seven years old, and of such a beggary of capacity + as not to be able to concert time and place to see her?” + </p> + <p> + “But if she herself is against seeing me, then how am I going to + manage?” + </p> + <p> + “What way did you find out that she was against seeing you?” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever else could I think, when I get no other thing but excuses? + First, she was gone away for a week’s rest, and Mistress Kilgour + said I had better not trouble her—she was that nervous.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did she go to?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe she was out of her aunt’s house. I am + sure the postman was astonished when I told him she was away, and her aunt’s + face was very confused-like. Then when I went again she had a headache, + and could hardly speak a word to me; and she never named about the week’s + holiday. And the next time there was a ball dress making; and the next she + had gone to the minister’s for her ‘token,’ and when I + said I would go there and meet her, I was told not to think of such a + thing; and so on, and so on, Christina. There is nothing but put-offs and + put-bys, and my heart is full of sadness and fearful wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you do see her, what then, Andrew?” + </p> + <p> + “She is that low-spirited I do not know how to talk to her. She has + little to say, and sits with her seam, and her eyes cast down, and all her + pretty, merry ways are gone far away. I wonder where! Do you think she is + ill, Christina?” he asked drearily. + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not, Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “Her mother died of a consumption, when she was only a young thing, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + “That is no reason why Sophy should die of a consumption. Andrew, + have you ever told her what your plans are? Have you told her she may be a + lady and live in London if it pleases her? Have you told her that you will + soon be <i>Captain Binnie</i> of the North Sea fleet?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! What for would I bribe the girl? I want her free given + love. I want her to marry plain Andrew Binnie. I will tell her everything + the very hour she is my wife. That is the joy I look forward to. And it is + right, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “No. It is all wrong. It is all wrong. Girls like men that have the + spirit to win siller and push their way in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot thole the thought of Sophy marrying me for my money.” + </p> + <p> + “You think o’er much of your money. Ask yourself whether in + getting money you have got good, or only gold. And about marrying Sophy, + it is not in your hand. Marriages are made in heaven, and unless there has + been a booking of your two names above, I am feared all your courting + below will come to little. Yet it is your duty to do all you can to win + the girl you want; and I can tell you what will win Sophy Traill, if + anything on earth will win her.” Then she pointed out to him how + fond Sophy was of fine dress and delicate living; how she loved roses, and + violets, and the flowers of the garden, so much better than the pale, salt + blossoms of the sea rack, however brilliant their colours; how she admired + such a house as Braelands, and praised the glory of the peacock’s + trailing feathers. “The girl is not born for a poor man’s + wife,” she continued, “her heart cries out for gold, and all + that gold can buy; and if you are set on Sophy, and none but Sophy, you + will have to win her with what she likes best, or else see some other man + do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will be buying her, and not winning her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh you unspeakable man! Your conceit is just extraordinary! If you + wanted any other good thing in life, from a big ship to a gold ring, would + you not expect to buy it? Would your loving it, and wanting it, be + sufficient? Jamie Logan knew well what he was about, when he brought us + the letter from the Hendersons’ firm. I love Jamie very dearly; but + I’m free to confess the letter came into my consideration.” + </p> + <p> + Talking thus, with the good wind blowing the words into his heart, + Christina soon inspired Andrew with her own ideas and confidence His face + cleared; he began to row with his natural energy; and as they stepped on + the wet sands together, he said almost joyfully:— + </p> + <p> + “I will take your advice, Christina. I will go and tell Sophy + everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Then she will smile in your face, she will put her hand in your + hand; maybe, she will give you a kiss, for she will be thinking in her + heart, how brave and how clever my Andrew is.’ And he will be taking + me to London and making me a lady!’ and such thoughts breed love, + Andrew. You are well enough, and few men handsomer or better—unless + it be Jamie Logan—but it isn’t altogether the man; it is what + the man <i>can do</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go and see Sophy to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “She is going to Mariton House to fit a dress and do some sewing. + Her aunt told me so.” + </p> + <p> + “If I was you, I would not let her sew for strangers any longer. Go + and ask her to marry you at once, and do not take ‘no’ from + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Your words stir my heart to the bottom of it, and I will do as you + say, Christina; for Sophy has grown into my life, like my own folk, and + the sea, and the stars, and my boat, and my home. And if she will love me + the better for the news I have to tell her, I am that far gone in love + with her I must even put wedding on that ground. Win her I must; or else + die for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Win her, surely; die for her, nonsense! No man worth the name of + man would die because a woman wouldn’t marry him. God has made more + than one good woman, more than one fair woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Only one woman for Andrew Binnie.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, if you choose to limit yourself in that way. I think + better of you. And as for dying for a woman, I don’t believe in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Matt Ballantyne broke his heart about Jessie Graham.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a very poor heart then. Nothing mends so soon as a good + heart. It trusts in the Omnipotent, and gets strength for its need, and + then begins to look around for good it can do, or make for others, or take + to itself. If Matt broke his heart for Jessie, Jessie would have been + poorly cared for by such a weak kind of a heart. She is better off with + Neil McAllister, no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “You have done me good, Christina. I have not heard so many sound + observes in a long time.” + </p> + <p> + And with that Janet came to the cliff-top and called to them to hurry. + “Step out!” she cried, “here is Jamie Logan with a + pocket full of great news; and the fish is frying itself black, while you + two are daundering, as if it was your very business and duty to keep + hungry folk waiting their dinner for you.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. — THE LAST OF THE WHIP + </h2> + <p> + With a joyful haste Christina went forward, leaving her brother to follow + in more sober fashion. Jamie came to the cliff-top to meet her, and Janet + from the cottage door beamed congratulations and radiant sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “I have got my berth on the Line, Christina! I am to sail next + Friday from Greenock, so I’ll start at once, my dearie! And I am the + happiest lad in Fife to-day!” + </p> + <p> + He had his arms around her as he spoke, and he kissed her smiles and glad + exclamations off her lips before she could put them into words. Then + Andrew joined them, and after clasping hands with Jamie and Christina, he + went slowly into the cottage, leaving the lovers alone outside. Janet was + all excitement. + </p> + <p> + “I’m like to greet with the good news, Andrew,” she + said, “it came so unexpected Jamie was just daundering over the + sands, kind of down-hearted, he said, and wondering if he would stay + through the winter and fish with Peddle or not, when little Maggie + Johnston cried out, ‘there is a big letter for you, Jamie Logan,’ + and he went and got it, and, lo and behold! it was from the Hendersons + themselves! And they are needing Jamie now, and he’ll just go at + once, he says. There’s luck for you! I am both laughing and crying + with the pride and the pleasure of it!” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t make such a fuss, anyway, Mother. It is what Jamie + has been looking for and expecting, and I am glad he has won to it at + last.” + </p> + <p> + “Fuss indeed! Plenty of ‘fuss’ made over sorrow; why not + over joy? And if you think me a fool for it, I’m not sure but I + might call you my neighbour, if it was only Sophy Traill or her affairs to + be ‘fussed’ over.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind Sophy, Mother. It is Jamie and Christina now, and + Christina knows her happiness is dear to me as my own.” + </p> + <p> + “Well then, show it, Andrew. Show it, my lad! We must do what we can + to put heart into poor Jamie; for when all is said and done, he is going + to foreign parts and leaving love and home behind.” And she walked + to the door and looked at Jamie and Christina, who were standing on the + cliff-edge together, deeply engaged in a conversation that was of the + highest interest to themselves. “I have fancied you have been a bit + shy with Jamie since yon time he set an old friend before his promise to + you, Andrew; but what then?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish Christina had married among our own folk. I have no wrong to + say in particular of Jamie Logan, but I think my sister might have made + her life with some good man a bit closer to her.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought, Andrew, that you were able to look sensibly at what + comes and goes. If it was a matter of business, you would be the first to + see the advantage of building your dyke with the stones you could get at. + And you may believe me or not, but there’s a deal of the successful + work of this life carried through on that principle. Well, in marrying it + is just as wise. The lad you <i>can get</i>, is happen better than the lad + you <i>want</i>. Anyhow Christina is going to marry Jamie; and I’m + sure he is that loving and pleasant, and that fond of her, that I have no + doubt she will be happy as the day is long.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope it is the truth, Mother, that you are saying.” + </p> + <p> + “It is; but some folks won’t see the truth, though they are + dashing their noses against it. None so blind as they who won’t see.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it isn’t within my right to speak to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is. It is your right and place to speak all the good and + hopeful words you can think of. Don’t be dour, Andrew. Man! man! how + hard it is to rejoice with them that do rejoice! It takes more + Christianity to do that than most folks carry around with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, you are a perfectly unreasonable woman. You flyte at me, as + if I was a laddie of ten years old—but I’ll not dare to say + but what you do me a deal of good;” and Andrew’s face + brightened as he looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “You would hardly do the right thing, if I didn’t flyte at + you, Andrew. And maybe I wouldn’t do it myself, if I was not + watching you; having nobody to scold and advise is very like trying to fly + a kite without wind. Go to the door and call in Jamie and Christina. We + ought to take an interest in their bit plans and schemes; and if we take + it, we ought to show we take it.” + </p> + <p> + Then Andrew rose and went to the open door, and as he went he laid his big + hand on his mother’s shoulder, and a smile flew from face to face, + and in its light every little shadow vanished. And Jamie was glad to bring + in his promised bride, and among her own people as they eat together, talk + over the good that had come to them, and the changes that were incident to + it. And thus an hour passed swiftly away, and then “farewells” + full of love and hope, and laughter and tears, and hand-clasping, and good + words, were said; and Jamie went off to his new life, leaving a thousand + pleasant hopes and expectations behind him. + </p> + <p> + After he was fairly out of sight, and Christina stood looking tearfully + into the vacancy where his image still lingered, Andrew led her to the top + of the cliff, and they sat down together. It was an exquisite afternoon, + full of the salt and sparkle of the sea; and for awhile both remained + silent, looking down on the cottages, and the creels, and the drying nets. + The whole village seemed to be out, and the sands were covered with + picturesque figures in sea-boots and striped hanging caps, and with the no + less picturesque companion figures in striped petticoats. Some of the + latter were old women, and these wore high-crowned, unbordered caps of + white linen; others were young women, and these had no covering at all on + their exuberant hair; but most of them displayed long gold rings in their + ears, and bright scarlet or blue kerchiefs round their necks. Andrew + glanced from these figures to his sister; and touching her striped + petticoat, he said:— + </p> + <p> + “You’ll be changing this for what they call a gown, when you + go to Glasgow! How soon is that to be, Christina?” + </p> + <p> + “When Jamie has got well settled in his place. It wouldn’t be + prudent before.” + </p> + <p> + “About the New Year, say?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; about the New Year.” + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking of giving you a silk gown for your wedding.” + </p> + <p> + “O Andrew! if you would! A silk gown would set me up above every + thing! I’ll never forget such a favour as that.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do it.” + </p> + <p> + “And Sophy will see to the making of it. Sophy has a wonderful taste + about trimming, and the like of that. Sophy will stand up with me, and you + will be Jamie’s best man; won’t you, Andrew?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, Sophy will see to the making of it. Few can make a gown look as + she can. She is a clever bit thing”—then after a pause he + added sadly, “there was one thing I did not tell you this morning; + but it is a circumstance I feel very badly about.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it? You know well that I shall feel with you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the way folks keep hinting this and that to me; but more, + that I am mistrusting Mistress Kilgour. I saw a young fellow standing at + the shop door talking to her the other morning very confidential-like—a + young fellow that could not have any lawful business with her.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a person was he?” + </p> + <p> + “A large, dark man, dressed like a picture in a tailor’s + window. His servant-man, in a livery of brown and yellow, was holding the + horses in a fine dog-cart. I asked Jimmy Faulds what his name was and he + laughed and said it was Braelands of Braelands, and he should think I knew + it and then he looked at me that queer, that I felt as if his eyes had + told me of some calamity. ‘What is he doing at Mistress Kilgour’s?’ + I asked as soon as I could get myself together, and Jimmy answered, + ‘I suppose he is ordering Madame Braelands’ millinery,’ + and then he snickered and laughed again, and I had hard lines to keep my + hands from striking him.’ + </p> + <p> + “What for at all?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. I wish I did.” + </p> + <p> + “If I give you my advice, will you take it?” + </p> + <p> + “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “Then for once—if you don’t want Braelands to win Sophy + from you—put your lover’s fears and shamefacedness behind your + back. Just remember who and what you are, and what you are like to be, and + go and tell Sophy everything, and ask her to marry you next Monday + morning. Take gold in your pocket, and buy her a wedding gift—a + ring, or a brooch, or some bonnie thing or other; and promise her a trip + to Edinburgh or London, or any other thing she fancies.” + </p> + <p> + “We have not been ‘cried’ yet. And the names must be + read in the kirk for three Sundays.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh man! Cannot you get a licence? It will cost you a few shillings, + but what of that? You are too slow, Andrew. If you don’t take care, + and make haste, Braelands will run away with your wife before your very + eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll not believe it. It could not be. The thing is + unspeakable, and unbearable. I’ll face my fate the morn, and I’ll + know the best—or the worst of what is coming to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Look for good, and have good, that is, if you don’t let the + good hour go by. You, Andrew Binnie! that can manage a boat when the north + wind is doing its mightiest, are you going to be one of the cony kind, + when it comes to a slip of a girl like Sophy? I can not think it, for you + know what Solomon said of such—‘Oh Son, it is a feeble folk.’” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t come of feeble folk, body nor soul; and as I have + said, I will have the whole matter out with Sophy to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Good—but better <i>do</i> than say.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning a swift look of intelligence passed between Andrew and + Christina at breakfast, and about eleven o’clock Andrew said, + “I’ll away now to Largo, and settle the business we were + speaking of, Christina.” She looked up at him critically, and + thought she had never seen a handsomer man. Though only a fisherman, he + was too much a force of nature to be vulgar. He was the incarnation of the + grey, old village, and of the North Sea, and of its stormy winds and + waters. Standing in his boots he was over six feet, full of pluck and + fibre, a man not made for the town and its narrow doorways, but for the + great spaces of the tossing ocean. His face was strong and finely formed; + his eyes grey and open—as eyes might be that had so often searched + the thickest of the storm with unquailing glance. A sensitive flush + overspread his brow and cheeks as Christina gazed at him, and he said + nervously:— + </p> + <p> + “I will require to put on my best clothes; won’t I, Christina?” + </p> + <p> + She laid her hand on his arm, and shook her head with a pleasant smile. + She was regarding with pride and satisfaction her brother’s fine + figure, admirably shown in the elastic grace of his blue Guernsey. She + turned the collar low enough to leave his round throat a little bare, and + put his blue flannel <i>Tam o’ Shanter</i> over his close, + clustering curls. “Go as you are,” she said. “In that + dress you feel at home, and at ease, and you look ten times the man you do + in your broadcloth. And if Sophy cannot like her fisher-lad in his + fisher-dress, she isn’t worthy of him.” + </p> + <p> + He was much pleased with this advice, for it precisely sorted with his own + feelings; and he stooped and kissed Christina, and she sent him away with + a smile and a good wish. Then she went to her mother, who was in a little + shed salting some fish. “Mother,” she cried, “Andrew has + gone to Largo.” + </p> + <p> + “Like enough. It would be stranger, if he had stopped at home.” + </p> + <p> + “He has gone to ask Sophy to marry him next week—next Monday.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfect nonsense! We’ll have no such marrying in a hurry, and + a corner. It will take a full month to marry Andrew Binnie. What would all + our folks say, far and near, if they were not bid to the wedding? Set to + that, you have to be married first. Marrying isn’t like Christmas, + coming every year of our Lord; and we <i>be</i> to make the most of it. I’ll + not give my consent to any such like hasty work. Why, they are not even + ‘called’ in the kirk yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Andrew can get a licence.” + </p> + <p> + “Andrew can get a fiddle-stick! None of the Binnies were ever + married, but by word of the kirk, and none of them shall be, if I can help + it. Licence indeed! Buying the right to marry for a few shillings, and the + next thing will be a few more shillings for the right to un-marry. I’ll + not hear tell of such a way.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mother, if Andrew does not get Sophy at once, he may lose her + altogether.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Humph</i>! No great loss.” + </p> + <p> + “The biggest loss in the world that Andrew can have. Things are come + to a pass. If Andrew does not marry her at once, I am feared Braelands + will carry her off.” + </p> + <p> + “He is welcome to her.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Mother! Do you want Braelands to get the best of Andrew?” + </p> + <p> + “The like of him get the best of Andrew! I’ll not believe it. + Sophy isn’t beyond all sense of right and feeling. If, after all + these years, she left Andrew for that fine gentleman, she would be a very + Jael of deceit and treachery. I wish I had told her about her mother’s + second cousin, bonnie Lizzie Lauder.” + </p> + <p> + “What of her? I never heard tell, did I, Mother?” + </p> + <p> + “No. We don’t speak of Lizzie now.” + </p> + <p> + “Why then?” + </p> + <p> + “She was very bonnie, and she was very like Sophy about hating to + work; and she was never done crying to all the gates of pleasure to open + wide and let her enter. And she went in.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mother? Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I wish in God’s mercy it was! The avenging gates closed + on her. She is shut up in hell. There, I’ll say no more.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mother. You will ask God’s mercy for her. It never + faileth.” + </p> + <p> + Janet turned away, and lifted her apron to her eyes, and stood so silent + for a few minutes. And Christina left her alone, and went back into the + house place, and began to wash up the breakfast-cups and cut up some + vegetables for their early dinner. And by-and-by her mother joined her, + and Christina began to tell how Andrew had promised her a silk gown for + her wedding. This bit of news was so wonderful and delightful to Janet, + that it drove all other thoughts far from her. She sat down to discuss it + with all the care and importance the subject demanded. Every colour was + considered; and when the colour had been decided, there was then the + number of yards and the kind of trimming to be discussed, and the manner + of its making, and the person most suitable to undertake the momentous + task. For Janet was at that hour angry with Mistress Kilgour, and not + inclined to “put a bawbee her way,” seeing that it was most + likely she had been favouring Braeland’s suit, and therefore a + bitter enemy to Andrew. + </p> + <p> + After the noon meal, Janet took her knitting, and went to tell as many of + her neighbours as it was possible to see during the short afternoon, about + the silk gown her Christina was to be married in; and Christina spread her + ironing table, and began to damp, and fold, and smooth the clean linen. + And as she did so, she sang a verse or two of ‘Hunting Tower,’ + and then she thought awhile, and then she sang again. And she was so + happy, that her form swayed to her movements; it seemed to smile as she + walked backwards and forwards with the finished garments or the hot iron + in her hands. She was thinking of the happy home she would make for Jamie, + and of all the bliss that was coming to her. For before a bird flies you + may see its wings, and Christina was already pluming hers for a flight + into that world which in her very ignorance she invested with a thousand + unreal charms. + </p> + <p> + She did not expect Andrew back until the evening. He would most likely + have a long talk with Sophy; there was so much to tell her, and when it + was over, it would be in a large measure to tell again to Mistress + Kilgour. Then it was likely Andrew would take tea with his promised wife, + and perhaps they might have a walk afterwards; so, calculating all these + things. Christina came to the conclusion that it would be well on to bed + time, before she knew what arrangements Andrew had made for his marriage + and his life after it. + </p> + <p> + Not a single unpleasant doubt troubled her mind, she thought she knew + Sophy’s nature so well; and she could hardly conceive it possible, + that the girl should have any reluctances about a lad so well known, so + good, and so handsome, and with such a fine future before him, as Andrew + Binnie. All Sophy’s flights and fancies, all her favours to young + Braelands, Christina put down to the dissatisfaction Sophy so often + expressed with her position, and the vanity which arose naturally from her + recognised beauty and youthful grace. But to be “a settled woman,” + with a loving husband and “a house of her own,” seemed to + Christina an irresistible offer; and she smiled to herself when she + thought of Sophy’s surprise, and of the many pretty little airs and + conceits the state of bridehood would be sure to bring forth in her + self-indulgent nature. + </p> + <p> + “She will be provoking enough, no doubt,” she whispered as she + set the iron sharply down; “but I’ll never notice it. She is + very little more than a bairn, and but a canary-headed creature added to + that. In a year or two, Andrew, and marriage, and maybe motherhood, will + sober and settle her. And Andrew loves her so. Most as well as Jamie loves + me. For Andrew’s sake, then, I’ll bear with all her provoking + ways and words. She’ll be <i>our own</i>, anyway, and we be to have + patience with they of our own household. Bonnie wee Sophy.” + </p> + <p> + It was about mid-afternoon when she came to this train of forbearing and + conciliating reflections. She was quite happy in it; for Christina was one + of those wise women, who do not look into their ideals and hopes too + closely. Her face reflecting them was beautiful and benign; and her + shoulders, and hands, her supple waist and limbs, continued the symphonies + of her soft, deep, loving eyes and her smiling mouth. Every now and then + she burst into song; and then her thrilling voice, so sweet and fresh, had + tones in it that only birds and good women full of love may compass. + Mostly the song was a lilt or a verse which spoke for her own heart and + love; but just as the clock struck three, she broke into a low laugh which + ended in a merry, mocking melody, and which was evidently the conclusion + of her argument concerning Sophy’s behaviour as Andrew’s wife— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Toot! toot! quoth the grey-headed father, + She’s less of a bride than a bairn; +She’s ta’en like a colt from the heather, + With sense and discretion to learn. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Half-husband I trow, and half daddy, + As humour inconstantly leans; +The man must be patient and steady, + That weds with a lass in her teens.” + </pre> + <p> + She had hardly finished the verse, when she heard a step blending with its + echoes. Her ears rung inward; her eyes dilated with an unhappy expectancy; + she put down her iron with a sudden faint feeling, and turned her face to + the door. + </p> + <p> + Andrew entered the cottage. He looked at her despairingly, and sinking + into his chair, he covered his wretched face with his hands. + </p> + <p> + It was not the same man who had left her a few hours before. A change, + like that which a hot iron would make upon a green leaf, had been made in + her handsome, hopeful, happy brother. She could not avoid an exclamation + that was a cry of terror; and she went to him and kissed him, and + murmured, she knew not what words of pity and love. Under their influence, + the flood gates of sorrow were unloosed, he began to weep, to sob, to + shake and tremble, like a reed in a tempest. + </p> + <p> + Christina saw that his soul was tossed from top to bottom, and in the + madness of the storm, she knew it was folly to ask “why?” But + she went to the door, closed it, slipped forward the bolt, and then came + back to his side, waiting there patiently until the first paroxysm of his + grief was over. Then she said softly:— + </p> + <p> + “Andrew! My brother Andrew! What sorrow has come to you? Tell + Christina.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophy is dead—dead and gone for me. Oh Sophy, Sophy, Sophy!” + </p> + <p> + “Andrew, tell me a straight tale. You are not a woman to let any + sorrow get the mastery over you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophy has gone from me. She has played me false—and after all + these years, deceived and left me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is still the Faithful One. His love is from everlasting, + to everlasting. He changeth not.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; I know,” he said drearily. But he straightened himself + and unfastened the button at his throat, and stood up on his feet, + planting them far apart, as if he felt the earth like the reeling deck of + a ship. And Christina opened the little window, and drew his chair near + it, and let the fresh breeze blow upon him; and her heart throbbed hotly + with anger and pity. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down in the sea wind, Andrew,” she said. “There’s + strength and a breath of comfort in it; and try and give your trouble + words. Did you see Sophy?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; I saw her.” + </p> + <p> + “At her aunt’s house?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I met her on the road. She was in a dog-cart; and the master of + Braelands was driving her. I saw her, ere she saw me; and she was looking + in his face as she never looked in my face. She loves him, Christina, as + she never loved me.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you speak to her?” + </p> + <p> + “I was that foolish, and left to myself. She was going to pass me, + without a look or a word; but I could not thole the scorn and pain of it, + and I called out to her, ‘<i>Sophy</i>! <i>Sophy</i>!’” + </p> + <p> + “And she did not answer you?” + </p> + <p> + “She cruddled closer to Braelands. And then he lifted the whip to + hurry the horse; and before I knew what I was doing, I had the beast by + the head—and the lash of the whip—struck me clean across the + cheek bone.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh Andrew! Andrew!” And she bent forward and looked at the + outraged cheek, and murmuring, “I see the mark of it! I see the mark + of it!” she kissed the long, white welt, and wetted it with her + indignant tears. + </p> + <p> + Andrew sat passive under her sympathy until she asked, “Did + Braelands say anything when he struck you? Had he no word of excuse?” + </p> + <p> + “He said: ‘It is your own fault, fisherman. The lash was meant + for the horse, and not for you.’” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “And I was in a passion; and I shouted some words I should not have + said—words I never said in my life before. I didn’t think the + like of them were in my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t blame you, Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “I blame myself though. Then I bid Sophy get out of the cart and + come to me;—and—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “And she never moved or spoke; she just covered her face with her + hands, and gave a little scream;—for no doubt I had frighted her—and + Braelands, he got into the de’il’s own rage then, and dared me + to call the lady ‘Sophy’ again; ‘for,’ said he, + ‘she will be my wife before many days’; and with that, he + struck the horse savagely again and again, and the poor beast broke from + my hand, and bounded for’ard; and I fell on my back, and the wheels + of the cart grazed the soles of my shoon as they passed me.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know how long I lay there.” + </p> + <p> + “And they went on and left you lying in the highway?” + </p> + <p> + “They went on.” + </p> + <p> + “The wicked lass! Oh the wicked, heartless lass!” + </p> + <p> + “You are not able to judge her, Christina.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can judge Braelands. Get a warrant for the scoundrel the + morn. He is without the law.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I would make Sophy the common talk, far and near. How could I + wrong Sophy to right myself?” + </p> + <p> + “But the whip lash! the whip lash! Andrew. You cannot thole the like + of that!” + </p> + <p> + “There was One tholed for me the lash and the buffet, and answer’d + never a word. I can thole the lash for Sophy’s sake. A poor love I + would have for Sophy, if I put my own pride before her good name. If I get + help ‘from beyond,’ I can thole the lash, Christina.” + </p> + <p> + He was white through all the tan of wind, and sea, and sun; and the sweat + of his suffering stood in great beads on his pallid face and brow. + Christina lifted a towel, which she had just ironed, and wiped it away; + and he said feebly;— + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, dear lass! I will go to my bed a wee.” + </p> + <p> + So Christina opened the door of his room and he tottered in, swaying like + a drunken man, and threw himself upon his bed. Five minutes afterward she + stepped softly to his side. He was sunk in deep sleep, fathoms below the + tide of grief whose waves and billows had gone over him. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks be to the Merciful!” she whispered. “When the + sorrow is too great, then He giveth His beloved sleep.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. — THE LOST BRIDE + </h2> + <p> + This unforeseen and unhappy meeting forced a climax in Sophy’s love + affairs, which she had hitherto not dared to face. In fact, circumstances + tending that way had arisen about a week previously; and it was in + consequence of them, that she was publicly riding with Braelands when + Andrew met them. For a long time she had insisted on secrecy in her + intercourse with her “friend.” She was afraid of Andrew; she + was afraid of her aunt; she was afraid of being made a talk and a + speculation to the gossips of the little town. And though Miss Kilgour had + begun to suspect somewhat, she was not inclined to verify her suspicions. + Madame Braelands was a good customer, therefore she did not wish to know + anything about a matter which she was sure would be a great annoyance to + that lady. + </p> + <p> + But Madame herself forced the knowledge on her. Some friend had called at + Braelands and thought it right to let her know what a dangerous affair her + son was engaged in. “For the girl is beautiful,” she said, + “there is no denying that; and she comes of fisher-folk, who have + simply no idea but that love words and love-kisses must lead to marrying + and housekeeping, and who will bitterly resent and avenge a wrong done to + any woman of their class, as you well know, Madame.” + </p> + <p> + Madame did know this very well; and apart from her terror of a <i>mesalliance</i> + for the heir of Braelands, there was the fact that his family had always + had great political influence, and looked to a public recognition of it. + The fisher vote was an important factor in the return of any aspirant for + Parliamentary honour; and she felt keenly that Archie was endangering his + whole future career by his attentions to a girl whom it was impossible he + should marry, but who would have the power to arouse against him a bitter + antagonism, if he did not marry her. + </p> + <p> + She affected to her friend a total indifference to the subject of her son’s + amusements, and she said “she was moreover sure that Archibald + Braelands would never do anything to prejudice his own honour, or the + honour of the humblest fisher-girl in Fifeshire.” But all the same, + her heart was sick with fear and anxiety; and as soon as her informant had + gone, she ordered her carriage, dressed herself in all her braveries, and + drove hastily to Mistress Kilgour’s. + </p> + <p> + At that very hour, this lady was fussing and fuming angrily at her niece. + Sophy had insisted on going for a walk, and in the altercation attending + this resolve, Mistress Kilgour had unadvisably given speech to her + suspicions about Sophy’s companion in these frequent walks, and + threatened her with a revelation of these doubts to Andrew Binnie. But in + spite of all, Sophy had left the house; and her aunt was nursing her wrath + against her when Madame Braeland’s carriage clattered up to her shop + door. + </p> + <p> + Now if Madame had been a prudent woman, and kept the rein on her prideful + temper, she would have found Mistress Kilgour in the very mood suitable + for an ally. But Madame had also been nursing her wrath, and as soon as + Mistress Kilgour had appeared, she asked angrily:— + </p> + <p> + “Where is that niece of yours, Mistress Kilgour? I should very much + like to know.” + </p> + <p> + The tone of the question irritated the dressmaker, and instantly her + sympathies flew toward her own kith, and kin, and class. Also, her caution + was at once aroused, and she answered the question, Scotch-wise, by + another question:— + </p> + <p> + “What for are you requiring to see Sophy, Madame?” + </p> + <p> + “Is she in the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I go and see?” + </p> + <p> + “Go and see, indeed! You know well she is not. You know she is away + somewhere, walking or driving with my son—with the heir of + Braelands. Oh, I have heard all about their shameful carryings-on.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll not need to use the word ‘shameful’ with + regard to my niece, Sophy Traill, Madame Braelands. She has never earned + such a like word, and she never will. You may take my say-so for that.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not anybody’s say-so in this case. Seeing is believing, + and they have been seen together, walking in Fernie wood, and down among + the rocks on the Elie coast, and in many other places.” + </p> + <p> + “Well and good, Madame. What by that? Young things will be young + things.” + </p> + <p> + “What by that? Do you, a woman of your age, ask me such a question? + When a gentleman of good blood and family, as well as great wealth, goes + walking and driving with a poor girl of no family at all, do you ask what + by that? Nothing but disgrace and trouble can be looked for.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak for your own kin and side, Madame. And I should think a woman + of your age—being at least twenty years older than myself—would + know that true love never asks for a girl’s pedigree. And as for + ‘disgrace,’ Sophy Traill will never call anything like ‘disgrace’ + to herself. I will allow that Sophy is poor, but as for family, the + Traills are of the best Norse strain. They were sea-fighters, hundreds of + years before they were sea-fishers; and they had been ‘at home’ + on the North Sea, and in all the lands about it, centuries before the like + of the Braelands were thought or heard tell of.” + </p> + <p> + Mistress Kilgour was rapidly becoming angry, and Madame would have been + wise to have noted the circumstance; but she herself was now past all + prudence, and with an air of contempt she took out her jewelled watch, and + beginning to slowly wind it, said:— + </p> + <p> + “My good woman, Sophy’s father was a common fisherman. We have + no call to go back to the time when her people were pirates and + sea-robbers.” + </p> + <p> + “I am <i>my own</i> woman, Madame. And I will take my oath I am not + <i>your</i> woman, anyhow. And ‘common’ or uncommon, the + fishermen of Fife call no man master but the Lord God Almighty, from whose + hands they take their food, summer and winter. And I will make free to + say, moreover, that if Braelands loves Sophy Traill and she loves him, + worse might befall him than Sophy for a wife. For if God thinks fit to + mate them, it is not Griselda Kilgour that will take upon herself to + contradict the Will of Heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk rubbish, Mistress Kilgour. People who live in + society have to regard what society thinks and says.” + </p> + <p> + “It is no ways obligatory, Madame, the voice of God and Nature has + more weight, I’m thinking, and if God links two together, you will + find it gey and hard to separate them.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard the girl was promised since her babyhood to a fisherman + called Andrew Binnie.” + </p> + <p> + “For once you have heard the truth, Madame. But you know yourself + that babyhood and womanhood are two different things; and the woman has + just set at naught the baby. That is all.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not all. This Andrew Binnie is a man of great influence + among the fishers, and my son cannot afford to make enemies among that + class. It will be highly prejudicial to him.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot help that Madame. Braelands is well able to row his own + boat. At any rate, I am not called to take an oar in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are. I have been a good customer to you, Mistress Kilgour.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not denying it; at the same time I have been a good dress and + bonnet maker to you, and earned every penny-bit you have paid me. The + obligation is mutual, I’m thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “I can be a still better customer if you will prevent this + gentle-shepherding and love-making. I would not even scruple at a twenty + pound note, or perhaps two of them.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Straa</i>! If you were Queen of England, Madame, I would call + you an insolent dastard, to try and bribe me against my own flesh and + blood. You are a very Judas, to think of such a thing. Good blood! fine + family! indeed! If your son is like yourself, I’m not caring for him + coming into my family at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Kilgour, you may close my account with you. I shall employ + you no more.” + </p> + <p> + “Pay me the sixteen pounds odd you owe me, and then I will shut my + books forever against Braelands. Accounts are not closed till outstanding + money is paid in.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall send the money.” + </p> + <p> + “The sight of the money would be better than the promise of it, + Madame; for some of it is owing more than a twelvemonth;” and + Mistress Kilgour hastily turned over to the Braelands page of her ledger, + while Madame, with an air of affront and indignation, hastily left the + shop. + </p> + <p> + Following this wordy battle with her dressmaker, Madame had an equally + stubborn one with her son, the immediate consequence of which was that + very interview whose close was witnessed by Andrew Binnie. In this + conference Braelands acknowledged his devotion to Sophy, and earnestly + pleaded for Mistress Kilgour’s favour for his suit. She was now + quite inclined to favour him. Her own niece, as mistress of Braelands, + would be not only a great social success, but also a great financial one. + Madame Braelands’s capacity for bonnets was two every year; Sophy’s + capacity was unlimited. Madame considered four dresses annually quite + extravagant; Sophy’s ideas on the same subject were constantly + enlarging. And then there would be the satisfaction of overcoming Madame. + So she yielded easily and gracefully to Archie Braelands’s petition, + and thus Sophy suddenly found herself able to do openly what she had + hitherto done secretly, and the question of her marriage with Braelands + accepted as an understood conclusion. + </p> + <p> + At this sudden culmination of her hardly acknowledged desires, the girl + was for a short tune distracted. She felt that Andrew must now be + definitely resigned, and a strangely sad feeling of pity and reluctance + assailed her. There were moments she knew not which lover was dearest to + her. The habit of loving Andrew had grown through long years in her heart; + she trusted him as she trusted no other mortal, she was not prepared to + give up absolutely all rights in a heart so purely and so devotedly her + own. For if she knew anything, she knew right well that no other man would + ever give her the same unfaltering, unselfish affection. + </p> + <p> + And when she dared to consider truthfully her estimate of Archie + Braelands, she judged his love, passionate as it was, did not ring true + through all its depths. There were times when her little <i>gaucheries</i> + fretted him; when her dress did not suit him; when he put aside an + engagement with her for a sail with a lord, or a dinner party with + friends, or a social function at his own home. Andrew put no one before + her; and even the business that kept him from her side was all for her + future happiness. Every object and every aim of his life had reference to + her. It was hard to give up such a perfect love, and she felt that she + could not see Andrew face to face and do it. Hence her refusals to meet + him, and her shyness and silence when a meeting was unavoidable. Hence, + also, came a very peculiar attitude of Andrew’s friends and mates; + for they could not conceive how Andrew’s implicit faith in his love + should prevent him from finding out what was so evident to every man and + woman in Largo. + </p> + <p> + Alas! the knowledge had now come to him. That it could have come in any + harder way, it is difficult to believe. There was only one palliation to + its misery—it was quite unpremeditated—but even this + mitigation of the affront hardly brought him any comfort as yet Braelands + was certainly deeply grieved at the miserable outcome of the meeting. He + knew the pride of the fisher race, and he had himself a manly instinct, + strong enough to understand the undeserved humiliation of Andrew’s + position. Honestly, as a gentleman, he was sorry the quarrel had taken + place; as a lover, he was anxious to turn it to his own advantage. For he + saw that, in spite of all her coldness and apparent apathy, Sophy was + affected and wounded by Andrew’s bitter imploration and its wretched + and sorrowful ending. If the man should gain her ear and sympathy, + Braelands feared for the result. He therefore urged her to an immediate + marriage; and when Mistress Kilgour was taken into counsel, she encouraged + the idea, because of the talk which was sure to follow such a flagrant + breach of the courtesies of life. + </p> + <p> + But even at this juncture, Sophy’s vanity must have its showing; and + she refused to marry, until at least two or three suitable dresses should + have been prepared; so the uttermost favour that could be obtained from + the stubborn little bride was a date somewhere within two weeks away. + </p> + <p> + During these two weeks there was an unspeakable unhappiness in the Binnie + household. For oh, how dreary are those wastes of life, left by the loved + who have deserted us! These are the vacant places we water with our + bitterest tears. Had Sophy died, Andrew would have said, “It is the + Lord; let him do what seemeth right in his sight.” But the manner + and the means of his loss filled him with a dumb sorrow and rage; for in + spite of his mother’s and sister’s urging, he would do nothing + to right his own self-respect at the price of giving Sophy the slightest + trouble or notoriety. Suffer! Yes, he suffered at home, where Janet and + Christina continually reminded him of the insult he ought to avenge; and + he suffered also abroad, where his mates looked at him with eyes full of + surprise and angry inquiries. + </p> + <p> + But though the village was ringing with gossip about Sophy and young + Braelands, never a man or woman in it ventured to openly question the + stern, sullen, irritable man who had been so long recognised as her + accepted lover. And whether he was in the boats or out of them, no one + dared to speak Sophy’s name in his presence. Indeed, upon the whole, + he was during these days what Janet Binnie called “an ill man to + live with—a man out of his senses, and falling away from his meat + and his clothes.” + </p> + <p> + This misery continued for about two weeks without any abatement, and Janet’s + and Christina’s sympathy was beginning to be tinged with resentment. + It seems so unnatural and unjust, that a girl who had already done them so + much wrong, and who was so far outside their daily life, should have the + power to still darken their home, and infuse a bitter drop into their + peculiar joys and hopes. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad the wicked lass isn’t near by me,” said Janet + one morning, when Andrew had declared himself unable to eat his breakfast + and gone out of the cottage to escape his mother’s pleadings and + reproofs. “I’m glad she isn’t near me. If she was here, + I could not keep my tongue from her. She should hear the truth for once, + if she never heard it again. They should be words as sharp as the birch + rod she ought to have had, when she first began her nonsense, and her airs + and graces.” + </p> + <p> + “She is a bad girl; but we must remember that she was left much to + herself—no mother to guide her, no sister or brother either.” + </p> + <p> + “It would have been a pity if there had been more of them. One scone + of that baking is enough. The way she has treated our Andrew is + abominable. Flesh and blood can’t bear such doings.” + </p> + <p> + As Janet made this assertion, a cousin of Sophy’s came into the + cottage, and answered her. “I know you are talking of Sophy,” + she said, “and I am not wondering at the terrivee you are making. As + for me, though she is my cousin, I’ll never exchange the Queen’s + language with her again as long as I live in this world. But all bad + things come to an end, as well as good ones, and I am bringing what will + put a stop at last to all this clishmaclaver about that wearisome lassie,”—and + with these words she handed Janet two shining white cards, tied together + with a bit of silver wire. + </p> + <p> + They were Sophy’s wedding cards; and she had also sent from + Edinburgh a newspaper containing a notice of her marriage to Archibald + Braelands. The news was very satisfactory to Janet. She held the bits of + cardboard with her fingertips, looking grimly at the names upon them. Then + she laughed, not very pleasantly, at the difference in the size of the + cards. “He has the wee card now,” she said, “and Sophy + the big one; but I’m thinking the wee one will grow big, and the big + one grow little before long. I will take them to Andrew myself; the sight + of them will be a bitter medicine, but it will do him good. Folks may + count it great gain when they get rid of a false hope.” + </p> + <p> + Andrew was walking moodily about the bit of bare turf in front of the + cottage door, stopping now and then to look over the sea, where the brown + sails of some of the fishing boats still caught the lazy south wind. He + was thinking that the sea was cloudy, and that there was an evil-looking + sky to the eastward; and then, as his mind took in at the same moment the + dangers to the fishers who people the grey waters and his own sorrowful + wrong, he turned and began to walk about muttering—“Lord help + us! We must bear what is sent.” + </p> + <p> + Then Janet called him, and he watched for her approach. She put the cards + into his hand saying, “Sophy’s cousin, Isobel Murray, brought + them.” Her voice was full of resentment; and Andrew, not at the + moment realising a custom so unfamiliar in a fishing-village, looked + wonderingly in his mother’s face, and then at the fateful white + messengers. + </p> + <p> + “Read the names on them, Andrew man, and you’ll know then why + they are sent to Pittendurie.” + </p> + <p> + Then he looked steadily at the inscription, and the struggle of the inner + man shook the outward man visibly. It was like a shot in the backbone. But + it was only for a moment he staggered; though he had few resources, his + faith in the Cross and his confidence in himself made him a match for his + hard fate. It is in such critical moments the soul reveals if it be + selfish or generous, and Andrew, with a quick upward fling of the head, + regained absolutely that self-control, which he had voluntarily abdicated. + </p> + <p> + “You will tell Isobel,” he said, “that I wish Mistress + Braelands every good thing, both for this life and the next.” Then + he stepped closer to his mother and kissed her; and Janet was so touched + and amazed that she could not speak. But the look of loving wonder on her + face was far better than words. And as she stood looking at him, Andrew + put the cards in his pocket, and went down to the sea; and Janet returned + to the cottage and gave Isobel the message he had sent. + </p> + <p> + But this information, so scanty and yet so conclusive, by no means + satisfied the curiosity of the women. A great deal of indignation was + expressed by Sophy’s kindred and friends in the village at her total + ignoring of their claims. They did not expect to be invited to a house + like Braelands; but they did think Sophy ought to have visited them and + told them all about her preparations and future plans. They were her own + flesh and blood, and they deeply resented her non-recognition of the + claims of kindred. Isobel, as the central figure of this dissatisfaction, + was a very important person. She at least had received “cards,” + and the rest of the cousins to the sixth degree felt that they had been + grossly slighted in the omission. So Isobel, for the sake of her own + popularity, was compelled to make common cause, and to assert positively + that “she thought little of the compliment.” Sophy only wanted + her folk to know she was now Mistress Braelands, and she had picked her + out to carry the news—good or bad news, none yet could say. + </p> + <p> + Janet was not inclined to discuss the matter with her. She was so cold + about it, that Isobel quickly discovered she had ‘work to finish at + her own house,’ for she recollected that if the Binnies were not + inclined to talk over the affair there were plenty of wives and maids in + Pittendurie who were eager to do so. So Janet and Christina were quickly + left to their own opinions on the marriage, the first of which was, that + “Sophy had behaved very badly to them.” + </p> + <p> + “But I wasn’t going to say bad words for Isobel to clash round + the village,” said Janet “and I am gey glad Andrew took the + news so man-like and so Christian-like. They can’t make any + speculations about Andrew now, and that will be a sore disappointment to + the hussies, for some of them are but ill willy creatures.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad Andrew kept a brave heart, and could bring good words out + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “What else would you expect from Andrew? Do you think Andrew Binnie + will fret himself one moment about a wife that is not his wife? He would + not give the de’il such a laugh over him. You may take my word, that + he will break no commandment for any lass; and Sophy Braelands will now + have to vacate his very thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad she is married then. If her marriage cures Andrew of that + never-ending fret about her, it will be a comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a cure, sure as death, as far as your brother is concerned. + Fancy Andrew Binnie pining and worrying about Archie Braelands’s + wife! The thing would be sinful, and therefore fairly impossible to him! I’m + as glad as you are that no worse than marriage has come to the lass; she + is done with now, and I am wishing her no more ill than she has called to + herself.” + </p> + <p> + “She has brought sorrow enough to our house,” said Christina. + “All the days of my own courting have been saddened and darkened + with the worry and the care of her. Andrew was always either that set up + or that knocked down about her, that he could not give a thought to Jamie’s + and my affairs. It was only when you talked about Sophy, or his wedding + with Sophy, that he looked as if the world was worth living in. He was + fast growing into a real selfish man.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Toots!</i> Every one in love—men or women—are as + selfish as they can be. The whole round world only holds two folk: their + own self, and another. I would like to have a bit of chat before long, + that did not set itself to love-making and marrying.” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness, Mother! You have not chatted much with me lately about + love-making and marrying. Andrew’s trouble has filled the house, and + you have hardly said a word about poor Jamie, who never gave either of us + a heartache. I wonder where he is to-day!” + </p> + <p> + Janet thought a moment and then answered: “He would leave New York + for Scotland, last Saturday. ‘T is Wednesday morning now, and he + will maybe reach Glasgow next Tuesday. Then it will not take him many + hours to find himself in Pittendurie.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt it. He will not be let come and go as he wants to. It would + not be reasonable. He will have to obey orders. And when he gets off, it + will be a kind of favour. A steamboat and a fishing-boat are two different + things, Mother, forbye, Jamie is but a new hand, and will have his way to + win.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about, you silly, fearful lassie? It would be + a poor-like, heartless captain, that had not a fellow-feeling for a lad in + love. Jamie will just have to tell him about yourself, and he will send + the lad off with a laugh, or maybe a charge not to forget the ship’s + sailing-day. Hope well, and have well, lassie.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll be far mistaken, Mother. I am not expecting Jamie for + more than two or three trips—but he’ll be thinking of me, and + I can not help thinking of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Think away, Christina. Loving thoughts keep out others, not as + good. I wonder how it would do to walk as far as Largo, and find out all + about the marriage from Griselda Kilgour. Then <i>I</i> would have the + essentials, and something worth telling and talking about.” + </p> + <p> + “I would go, Mother. Griselda will be thirsty to tell all she knows, + and just distracted with the glory of her niece. She will hold herself + very high, no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “Griselda and her niece are two born fools, and I am not to be put + to the wall by the like of them. And it is not beyond hoping, that I’ll + be able to give the woman a mouthful of sound advice. She’s a set-up + body, but I shall disapprove of all she says.” + </p> + <p> + “You may disapprove till you are black in the face, Mother, but + Griselda will hold her own; she is neither flightersome, nor easy + frightened. I’m feared it is going to rain. I see the glass has + fallen.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not minding the ‘glass’. The sky is clear, + and I think far more of the sky, and the look of it, than I do of the + ‘glass’. I wonder at Andrew hanging it in our house; it is + just sinful and unlucky to be taking the change of the weather out of His + hands. But rain or fine, I am going to Largo.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, she was taking out of her kist a fine Paisley shawl and a + bonnet, and with Christina’s help she was soon dressed to her own + satisfaction. Fortunately one of the fishers was going with his cart to + Largo, so she got a lift over the road, and reached Griselda Kilgour’s + early in the afternoon. There were no bonnets and caps in the window of + the shop, and when Janet entered, the place had a covered-up, Sabbath-day + look that kindled her curiosity. The ringing of the bell quickly brought + Mistress Kilgour forward, and she also had an unusual look. But she seemed + pleased to see Janet, and very heartily asked her into the little parlour + behind. + </p> + <p> + “I’m just home,” she said, “and I’m making + myself a cup of tea ere I sort up the shop and get to my day’s work + again. Sit down, Janet, and take off your things, and have a cup with me. + Strange days and strange doings in them lately!” + </p> + <p> + “You may well lift up your eyes and your hands, Griselda. I never + heard tell of the like. The whole village is in a flustration; and I just + came o’er-by, to find out from you the long and the short of + everything. I’m feared you have been sorely put about with the + wilful lass.” + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Braelands had no one to lippen to but me. I had everything + to look after. The Master of Braelands was that far gone in love, he wasn’t + to be trusted with anything. But my niece has done a good job for herself.” + </p> + <p> + “It is well <i>some one</i> has got good out of her treachery. She + brought sorrow enough to my house. But I’m glad it is all over, and + that Braelands has got her. She wouldn’t have suited my son at all, + Griselda.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least,” answered the dressmaker with an air of + offence. “How many lumps of sugar, Janet?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not taking sugar. Where was the lass married?” + </p> + <p> + “In Edinburgh.” We didn’t want any talk and fuss about + the wedding, and Braelands he said to me, ‘Mistress Kilgour, if you + will take a little holiday, and go with Sophy to Edinburgh, and give her + your help about the things she requires, we shall both of us be your + life-long debtors.’ And I thought Edinburgh was the proper place, + and so I went with Sophy—putting up a notice on the shop door that I + had gone to look at the winter fashions and would be back to-day—and + here I am for I like to keep my word. + </p> + <p> + “You didn’t keep it with my Andrew, for you promised to help + him with Sophy, you promised that more than once or twice.” + </p> + <p> + “No one can help a man who fights against himself, and Andrew never + did prize Sophy as Braelands did, the way that man ran after the lass, and + coaxed and courted and pleaded with her! And the bonnie things he gave + her! And the stone blind infatuation of the creature! Well I never saw the + like. He was that far gone in love, there was nothing for him but standing + up before the minister.” + </p> + <p> + “What minister?” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Beith of St. Andrews. Braelands sits in St. Andrews, when he is + in Edinburgh for the winter season and Dr. Beith is knowing him well. I + wish you could have seen the dresses and the mantillas, the bonnets and + the fineries of every sort I had to buy Sophy, not to speak of the rings + and gold chains and bracelets and such things, that Braelands just laid + down at her feet.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of dresses?” + </p> + <p> + “Silks and satins—white for the wedding-dress—and pink, + and blue and tartan and what not! I tell you McFinlay and Co. were kept + busy day and night for Sophy Braelands.” + </p> + <p> + Then Mistress Kilgour entered into a minute description of all Sophy’s + beautiful things, and Janet listened attentively, not only for her own + gratification, but also for that of every woman in Pittendurie. Indeed she + appeared so interested that her entertainer never suspected the anger she + was restraining with difficulty until her curiosity had been satisfied. + But when every point had been gone over, when the last thing about Sophy’s + dress and appearance had been told and discussed, Janet suddenly inquired, + “Have they come back to Largo yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed nothing so common,” answered Griselda, proudly. + “They have gone to foreign lands—to France, and Italy, and + Germany,”—and then with a daring imagination she added, + “and it’s like they won’t stop short of Asia and + America.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Jamie Logan, my Christina’s promised man is on the + American line. I dare say he will be seeing her on his ship, and no doubt + he will do all he can to pleasure her.” + </p> + <p> + “Jamie Logan! Sophy would not think of noticing him now. It would + not be proper.” + </p> + <p> + “What for not? He is as good a man as Archie Braelands, and if all + reports be true, a good deal better.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Archie</i> indeed! I’m thinking ‘Master Braelands’ + would be more as it should be.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll never ‘master’ him. He is no ‘master’ + of mine. What for does he have a Christian name, if he is not to be called + by it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Janet, you need not show your temper. Goodness knows, it is + as short as a cat’s hair. And Braelands is beyond your tongue, + anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not giving him a word. Sophy will pay every debt he is + owing me and mine. The lassie has been badly guided all her life, and as + she would not be ruled by the rudder, she must be ruled by the rocks.” + </p> + <p> + “Think shame of yourself! For speaking ill to a new-made bride! How + would you like me to say such words to Christina?” + </p> + <p> + “Christina would never give occasion for them. She is as true as + steel to her own lad.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe she has no temptation to be false. That makes a deal of + differ. Anyway, Sophy is a woman now in the married state, and answerable + to none but her husband. I hope Andrew is not fretting more than might be + expected.” + </p> + <p> + “Andrew! Andrew fretting! Not he! Not a minute! As soon as he knew + she was a wife, he cast her out of his very thoughts. You don’t + catch Andrew Binnie putting a light-of-love lassie before a command of + God.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t hear you talk of my niece—of the mistress of + Braelands—in that kind of a way, Janet. She’s our betters now, + and we be to take notice of the fact.” + </p> + <p> + “She’ll have to learn and unlearn a good lot before she is to + be spoke of as any one’s ‘betters.’ I hope while she is + seeing the world she will get her eyes opened to her own faults; they will + give her plenty to think of.” + </p> + <p> + “Keep me, woman! Such a way to go on about your own kin.” + </p> + <p> + “She is no kin to the Binnies. I have cast her out of my reckoning.” + </p> + <p> + “She is Christina’s sixth cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “She is nothing at all to us. I never did set any store by those + Orkney folks—a bad lot! A very selfish, false, bad lot!” + </p> + <p> + “You are speaking of my people, Janet.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite aware of it, Griselda.” + </p> + <p> + “Then keep your tongue in bounds.” + </p> + <p> + “My tongue is my own.” + </p> + <p> + “My house is my own. And if you can’t be civil, I’ll be + necessitated to ask you to leave it.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m going as soon as I have told you that you have the most + gun-powdery temper I ever came across; forbye, you are fairly drunk with + the conceit and vanity of Sophy’s grand marriage. You are full as + the Baltic with the pride of it, woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Temper! It is you, that are in a temper.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s neither here nor there. I have my reasons.” + </p> + <p> + “Reasons, indeed! I’d like to see you reasonable for once.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have my reasons. How was my lad Andrew used by the both of + you? And what do you think of his last meeting with that heartless limmer + and her fine sweetheart?” + </p> + <p> + “Andrew should have kept himself out of their way. As soon as + Braelands came round Sophy, Andrew got the very de’il in him. I was + aye feared there would be murder laid to his name.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn’t have been feared for the like of that. Andrew + Binnie has enough of the devil in him to keep the devil out of him. Do you + think he would put blood on his soul for Sophy Traill? No, not for twenty + lasses better than her! You needn’t look at me as if your eyes were + cocked pistols. I have heard all I wanted to hear, and said all I wanted + to say, and now I’ll be stepping homeward.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be obligated to you to go at once—the sooner the + better.” + </p> + <p> + “And I’ll never speak to you again in this world, Griselda; + nor in the next world either, unless you mend your manners. Mind that!” + </p> + <p> + “You are just full of envy, and all uncharitableness, and evil + speaking, Janet Binnie. But I trust I have more of the grace of God about + me than to return your ill words.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be. It only shows folk that the grace of God will bide + with an old woman that no one else can bide with.” + </p> + <p> + “Old woman! I am twenty years younger—” + </p> + <p> + But Janet had passed out of the room and clashed the shop door behind her + with a pealing ring; so Griselda’s little scream of indignation + never reached her. It is likely, however, she anticipated the words that + followed her, for she went down the street, folding her shawl over her + ample chest, and smiling the smile of those who have thrown the last word + of offence. + </p> + <p> + She did not reach home until quite dark, for she was stopped frequently by + little groups of the wives and maids of Pittendurie, who wanted to hear + the news about Sophy. It pleased Janet, for some reason, to magnify the + girl’s position and all the fine things it had brought her. Perhaps, + because she felt dimly that it placed Andrew’s defeat in a better + Tight. No one could expect a mere fisherman to have any chance against a + man able to shower silks and satins and gold and jewels upon his bride, + and who could take her to France and Italy and Germany, not to speak of + Asia and America. + </p> + <p> + But if this was her motive, it was a bit of motherhood thrown away. Andrew + had sources of comfort and vindication which looked far beyond all petty + social opinion. He was on the sea alone till nearly dark; then he came + home, with the old grave smile on his face, saying, as he entered the + house, “There will be a heavy blow from the northeast to-night, + Christina. I see the boats are all at anchor, and no prospect of a + fishing.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, and I saw the birds, who know more than we do, making for the + rocks. I wish mother would come,”—and she opened the door and + looked out into the dark vacancy. “There is a voice in the sea + to-night, Andrew, and I don’t like the wail of it.” + </p> + <p> + But Andrew had gone to his room, and so she left the door open until Janet + returned. And the first question Janet asked was concerning Andrew. + “Has he come home yet, Christina? I’m feared for a boat on the + sea to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “He is home, and I think he has fallen asleep. He looked very tired.” + </p> + <p> + “How is he taking his trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “Like a man. Like himself. He has had his wrestle out on the sea, + and has come out with a victory.” + </p> + <p> + “The Lord be thanked! Now, Christina, I have heard everything about + that wicked lassie. Let us have a cup of tea and a herring—for it is + little good I had of Griselda’s wishy-washy brew—and then I’ll + tell you the news of the wedding, the beginning and the end of it.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. — WHERE IS MY MONEY? + </h2> + <p> + In the morning it was still more evident that Andrew had thrown himself on + God, and—unperplext seeking, had found him. But Janet wondered a + little that he did not more demonstratively seek the comfort of The Book. + It was her way in sorrow to appeal immediately to its known passages of + promise and comfort, and she laid it open in his way with the remark: + </p> + <p> + “There is the Bible. Andrew; it will have a word, no doubt, for you.” + </p> + <p> + “And there is the something beyond the Bible, Mother, if you will be + seeking it. When the Lord God speaks to a man, he has the perfection of + counsel, and he will not be requiring the word of a prophet or an apostle. + From the heart of The Unseen a voice calls to him, and gives him patience + under suffering. I <i>know</i>, for I have heard and answered it.” + Then he walked to the door, and opening it, he stood there repeating to + himself, as he looked over the waters which had been the field of his + conflict and his victory:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “But peace they have that none may gain that live; + And rest about them that no love can give + And over them, while death and life shall be, + The light and sound and darkness of the Sea.” + </pre> + <p> + It was a verse that meant more to Andrew than he would have been able to + explain. He only knew that it led him somehow through those dim, obscure + pathways of spiritual life, on which the light of common day does not + shine. And as he stood there, his mother and sister felt vaguely that they + knew what “moral beauty” meant, and were the better for the + knowledge. + </p> + <p> + He did not try to forget Sophy; he only placed her beyond his own horizon; + and whereas he had once thought of her with personal hope and desire, he + now remembered her only with a prayer for her happiness, or if by chance + his tongue spoke her name, he added a blessing with it. Never did he make + a complaint of her desertion, but he wept inwardly; and it was easy to see + that he spent many of those hours that make the heart grey, though they + leave the hair untouched. And it was at this time he contracted the habit + of frequently looking up, finding in the very act that sense of strength + and help and adoration which is inseparable to it. And thus, day by day, + he overcame the aching sorrow of his heart, for no man is ever crushed + from without; if he is abased to despair, his ruin has come from within. + </p> + <p> + About three weeks after Sophy’s marriage, Christina was standing one + evening at the gloaming, looking over the immense, cheerless waste of + waters. Mists, vague and troublous as the background of dreams, were on + the horizon, and there Was a feeling of melancholy in the air. But she + liked the damp, fresh wind, with its taste of brine, and she drew her + plaid round her, and breathed it with a sense of enjoyment. Very soon + Andrew came up the cliff, and he stood at her side, and they spoke of + Jamie and wondered at his whereabouts, and after a little pause, Andrew + added:— + </p> + <p> + “Christina, I got a very important letter to-day, and I am going + to-morrow about the business I told you of. I want to start early in the + morning, so put up what I need in my little bag. And I wish you to say + nothing to mother until all things are settled.” + </p> + <p> + “She will maybe ask me the question, Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “I told her I was going about a new boat, and she took me at my word + without this or that to it. She is a blithe creature, one of the Lord’s + most contented bairns. I wish we were both more like her.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish we were, Andrew. If we could just do as mother does! for she + leaves yesterday where it fell, and trusts to-morrow with God, and so + catches every blink of happiness that passes by her.” + </p> + <p> + “God forever bless her! There is no mother like the mother that bore + us; we must aye remember that, Christina. But it is a dour, storm-like sky + yon,” he continued, pointing eastward. “We shall have a + snoring breeze before midnight.” + </p> + <p> + Then Christina thought of her lover again, and as they turned in to the + fireside, she began to tell her brother her hopes and fears about Jamie, + and to read him portions of a letter received that day from America. While + Andrew’s trouble had been fresh and heavy on him, Christina had + refrained herself from all speech about her lover; she felt instinctively + that it would not be welcome and perhaps hardly kind. But this night it + fell out naturally, and Andrew listened kindly and made his sister very + happy by his interest in all that related to Jamie’s future. Then he + ate some bread and cheese with the women, and after the exercise went to + his room, for he had many things to prepare for his journey on the + following day. + </p> + <p> + Janet continued the conversation. It related to her daughter’s + marriage and settlement in Glasgow, and of this subject she never wearied. + </p> + <p> + The storm Andrew had foreseen was by this time raging round the cottage, + the Clustering waves making strange noises on the sands and falling on the + rocks with a keen, lashing sound It affected them gradually; their hearts + became troubled, and they spoke low and with sad inflections, for both + were thinking of the sailor-men and fishermen peopling the lonely waters. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t put out to sea this night,” said Janet. + “No, not for a capful of sovereigns.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet there will be plenty of boats, hammering through the big waves + all night long, till the dawn shows in the east; and it is very like that + Jamie is now on the Atlantic—a stormy place, God knows!” + </p> + <p> + “A good passage, if it so pleases God!” said Janet, lifting + her eyes to heaven, and Christina looked kindly at her mother for the + wish. But talking was fast becoming difficult, for the wind had suddenly + veered more northerly, and, sleet-laden, it howled and shrieked down the + wide chimney. In one of the pauses forced on them by this blatant + intruder, they were startled by a human cry, loud and piercing, and quite + distinct from the turbulent roar of winds and waves. + </p> + <p> + Both women were on their feet on the instant Both had received the same + swift, positive impression, that it came from Andrew’s room, and + they were at his door in a moment. It was locked. They called him, and he + made no answer. Again and again, with ever increasing terror, they + entreated him to open to them; for the door was solid and heavy, and the + lock large and strong, and no power they possessed could avail to force an + entrance. He heeded none of, their passionate prayers until Janet began to + cry bitterly. Then he turned the key and they entered. + </p> + <p> + Andrew looked at them with anger; his countenance was pale and distraught, + and a quiet fury burned in his eyes. He could not speak, and the women + regarded him with fear and wonder. Presently he managed to articulate with + a thick difficulty:— + </p> + <p> + “My money! My money! It is all gone!” + </p> + <p> + “Gone!” shrieked Christina, “that is just impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “It is all gone!” Then he gripped her cruelly by the shoulder, + and asked in a fierce whisper: + </p> + <p> + “What did you do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Me? Andrew!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, you! You wicked lass, you!” + </p> + <p> + “I never put finger on it” + </p> + <p> + “Christina! Christina! To think that I trusted you for this! Go out + of my sight, will you! I’m not able to bear the face of you!” + </p> + <p> + “Andrew! Andrew! Surely, you are not calling me a ‘thief’?” + </p> + <p> + “Who, then?” he cried, with gathering rage, “unless it + be Jamie Logan?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be so wicked as to wrong innocent folk such a way; + Jamie never saw, never heard tell of your money. The unborn babe is not + more guiltless than Jamie Logan.” + </p> + <p> + “How do <i>you</i> know that? How do <i>I</i> know that? The very + night I told you of the money—that very night I showed you where I + kept it—that night Jamie ought to have been in the boats, and he was + not in them. What do you make of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. He is as innocent as I am.” + </p> + <p> + “And he was drinking with some strange man at the public. What were + they up to? Tell me that. And then he comes whistling up the road, and + says he missed his boat. A made up story! and after it he goes off to + America! Oh. woman! woman! If you can’t put facts together. I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Jamie never touched a bawbee of your money. I’ll ware my life + on that. For I never let on to any mortal creature that you had a penny of + silent money. God Almighty knows I am speaking the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “You won’t dare to bring God Almighty’s name into such a + black business. Are you not feared to take it into your mouth?” + </p> + <p> + Then Janet laid her hand heavily on his shoulder. He had sat down on his + bed, and was leaning heavily against one of the posts, and the very + fashion of his countenance was changed; his hair stood upright, and he + continually smote his large, nervous hands together. + </p> + <p> + “Andrew,” said his mother, angrily, “you are just giving + yourself up to Satan. Your passion is beyond seeing, or hearing tell of. + And think shame of yourself for calling your sister a ‘thief and a + ‘liar’ and what not. I wonder what’s come over you! Step + ben the house, and talk reasonable to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave me to myself! Leave me to myself! I tell you both to go away. + Will you go? both of you?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m your mother, Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “Then for God’s sake have pity on me, and leave me alone with + my sorrow! Go! Go! I’m not a responsible creature just now—” + and his passion was so stern and terrific that neither of them dared to + face any increase of it. + </p> + <p> + So they left him alone and went back to the sputtering fireside—for + the rain was now beating down the chimney—and in awe-struck whispers + Christina told her mother of the money which Andrew had hoarded through + long laborious years, and of the plans which the loss of it would break to + pieces. + </p> + <p> + “There would be a thousand pounds, or near by it. Mother, I’m + thinking,” said Christina. “You know well how scrimping with + himself he has been. Good fishing or bad fishing, he never had a shilling + to spend on any one. He bought nothing other boys bought; when he was a + laddie, and when he grew to the boats, you may mind that he put all he + made away somewhere. And he made a deal more than folks thought. He had a + bit venture here, and a bit there, and they must have prospered finely.” + </p> + <p> + “Not they!” said Janet angrily. “What good has come of + them? What good <i>could</i> come of money, hid away from everybody but + himself? Why didn’t he tell his mother? If her thoughts had been + round about his siller, it would not have gone an ill road. A man who + hides away his money is just a miracle of stupidity, for the devil knows + where it is if no decent human soul does.” + </p> + <p> + It was a mighty sorrow to bear, even for the two women, and Janet wept + like a child over the hopes blasted before she knew of them. “He + should have told us both long since,” she sobbed. “I would + have been praying for the bonnie ship building for him, every plank would + have been laid with a blessing. And as I sat quiet in my house, I would + have been thinking of my son Captain Binnie, and many a day would have + been a bright day, that has been but a middling one. So selfish as the lad + has been!” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe it wasn’t pure selfishness, Mother. He was saving for a + good end.” + </p> + <p> + “It was pure selfishness! He was that way even about Sophy. Nobody + but himself must have word or look from her, and the lassie just wearied + of him. Why wouldn’t she? He put himself and her in a circle, and + then made a wilderness all round about it. And Sophy wanted company, for + when a girl says ‘a man is all the world to her,’ she doesn’t + mean that nobody else is to come into her world. She would be a wicked + lass if she did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mother, he lost her, and he bore his loss like a man.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, men often bear the loss of love easier than the loss of money. + I’ve seen far more fuss made over the loss of a set of fishing-nets, + than over the brave fellows that handled them. And to think of our Andrew + hiding away his gold all these years for his own hoping and pleasuring! A + perfectly selfish pleasuring! The gold might well take wings to itself and + fly away. He should have clipped the wings of it with giving a piece to + the kirk now and then, and a piece to his mother and sister at odd times, + and the flying wouldn’t have been so easy. Now he has lost the + whole, and he well deserves it I’m thinking his Maker is dourly + angry with him for such ways, and I am angry myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah well, Mother, there is no use in our anger; the lad is suffering + enough, and for the rest we must just leave him to the general mercy of + God.” + </p> + <p> + “‘General mercy of God.’ Don’t let me hear you use + the like of such words, Christina. The minister would tell you it is a + very loose expression and a very dangerous doctrine. He was reproving + Elder McInnes for them very words, and any good minister will be keeping + his thumb on such a wide outgate. Andrew knows well that he has to have + the particular and elected grace of God to keep him where he ought to be. + This hid-away money has given him a sore tumble, and I will tell him so + very plainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t trouble him, Mother. He will not bear words on it, even + from you.” + </p> + <p> + “He will have to bear them. I am not feared for Andrew Binnie, and + he shall not be left in ignorance of his sin. Whether he knows it or not, + he has done a deed that would make a very poor kind of a Christian ashamed + to look the devil in the face; and I be to let him know it.” + </p> + <p> + But in the morning Andrew looked so utterly wretched, that Janet could + only pity him. “I’ll not be the one to break the bruised reed,” + she said to Christina, for the miserable man sat silent with dropped eyes + the whole day long, eating nothing, seeing nothing, and apparently lost to + all interests outside his own bewildering, utterly hopeless speculations. + It was not until another letter came about the ship he was to command, + that he roused himself sufficiently to write and cancel the whole + transaction. He could not keep his promises financially, and though he was + urged to make some other offer, he would have nothing from The Fleet on + any humbler basis than his first proposition. With a foolish pride, born + of his great disappointment and anger, he turned his back on his broken + hopes, and went sullen and sorrowful back to his fishing-boat. + </p> + <p> + He had never been even in his family a very social man. Jokes and songs + and daffing of all kinds were alien to his nature. Yet his grave and + pleasant smile had been a familiar thing, and gentle words had always + hitherto come readily to his lips. But after his ruinous loss, he seldom + spoke unless it was to his mother. Christina he noticed not, either by + word or look, and the poor girl was broken-hearted under this silent + accusation. For she felt that Andrew doubted both her and Jamie, and + though she was indignant at the suspicion, it eat its way into her heart + and tortured her. + </p> + <p> + For put the thought away as she would, the fact of Jamie’s + dereliction that unfortunate night would return and return, and always + with a more suspicious aspect. Who was the man he was drinking with? + Nobody in the village but Jamie, knew him. He had come and gone in a + night. It was possible that, having missed the boat, Jamie had brought his + friend up the cliff to call on her; that, seeing the light in Andrew’s + room, they had looked in at the window, and so might have seen Andrew and + herself standing over the money, and then watched until it was returned to + its hiding-place. Jamie <i>had</i> come whistling in a very pronounced + manner up to the house—that might have been because he had been + drinking, and then again, it might not—and then there was his + quarrel with Andrew! Was that a planned affair, in order to give the other + man time to carry off the box? She could not remember whether the curtain + had been drawn across the window or not; and when she dared to name this + doubt to Andrew, he only answered— + </p> + <p> + “What for are you asking after spilled milk?” + </p> + <p> + The whole circumstance was so mysterious that it stupified her. And yet + she felt that it contained all the elements of sorrow and separation + between Jamie and herself. However, she kept assuring her heart that Jamie + would be in Glasgow the following week; and she wrote a letter to meet + him, expressing a strong desire that he would “be sure to come to + Pittendurie, as there was most important business.” But she did not + like to tell him what the business was, and Jamie did not answer the + request. In fact, the lad could not, without resigning his position + entirely. The ship had been delayed thirty hours by storms, and there was + nearly double tides of work for every man on her in order that she might + be able to keep her next sailing day. Jamie was therefore so certain that + a request to go on shore about his own concerns would be denied, that he + did not even ask the favour. + </p> + <p> + But he wrote to Christina, and explained to her in the most loving manner + the impossibility of his leaving his duties. He said “that for her + sake, as well as his own, he was obligated to remain at his post,” + and he assured her that this obligation was “a reasonable one.” + Christina believed him fully, and was satisfied, her mother only smiled + with shut lips and remained silent; but Andrew spoke with a bitterness it + was hard to forgive; still harder was it to escape from the wretched + inferences his words implied. + </p> + <p> + “No wonder he keeps away from Pittendurie!” he said with a + scornful laugh. “He’ll come here no more—unless he is + made to come, and if it was not for mother’s sake, and for your good + name, Christina, I would send the constables to the ship to bring him here + this very day.” + </p> + <p> + And Christina could make no answer, save that of passionate weeping. For + it shocked her to see, that her mother did not stand up for Jamie, but + went silently about her house duties, with a face as inscrutable as the + figure-head of Andrew’s boat. + </p> + <p> + Thus backward, every way flew the wheels of life in the Binnie cottage. + Andrew took a grim pleasure in accepting his poverty before his mother and + sister. In the home he made them feel that everything but the barest + necessities were impossible wants. His newspaper was resigned, his pipe + also, after a little struggle He took his tea without sugar, he put the + butter and marmalade aside, as if they were sinful luxuries, and in fact + reduced his life to the most essential and primitive conditions it was + possible to live it on. And as Janet and Christina were not the bread + winners, and did not know the exact state of the Binnie finances, they + felt obliged to follow Andrew’s example. Of course, all Christina’s + little extravagances of wedding preparations were peremptorily stopped. + There would be no silk wedding gown now. It began to look, as if there + would be no wedding at all. + </p> + <p> + For Andrew’s continual suspicions, spoken and unspoken, insensibly + affected her, and that in spite of her angry denials of them. She fought + against their influence, but often in vain, for Jamie did not come to + Pittendurie either after the second or the third voyage. He was not to + blame; it was the winter season, and delays were constant, and there were + other circumstances—with which he had nothing whatever to do—that + still put him in such a position that to ask for leave of absence meant + asking for his dismissal. And then there would be no prospect at all of + his marriage with Christina. + </p> + <p> + But the fisher folk, who had their time very much at their own command and + who were nursed in a sense of every individual’s independence, did + not realise Jamie’s dilemma. It could not be made intelligent to + them, and they began to wonder, and to ask embarrassing questions. Very + soon there was a shake of the head and a sigh of pity whenever “poor + Christina Binnie” was mentioned. + </p> + <p> + So four wretched months went by, and then one moonlight night in February, + Christina heard the quick footstep and the joyous whistle she knew so + well. She stood up trembling with pleasure; and as Jamie flung wide the + door, she flew to his arms with an irrepressible cry. For some minutes he + saw nothing and cared for nothing but the girl clasped to his breast; but + as she began to sob, he looked at Janet—who had purposely gone to + the china rack that she might have her back to him—and then at + Andrew who stood white and stern, with both hands in his pockets, + regarding him. + </p> + <p> + The young man was confounded by this reception, he released himself from + Christina’s embrace, and stepping forward, asked anxiously “What + ever is the matter with you, Andrew? You aren’t like yourself at + all. Why, you are ill, man! Oh, but I’m vexed to see you so changed.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is my money, James Logan? Where is the gold and the + bank-notes you took from me?—the savings of all my lifetime.” + </p> + <p> + “Your money, Andrew? Your gold and bank-notes? <i>Me</i> take your + money! Why, man, you are either mad or joking—and I’m not + liking such jokes either.” Then he turned to Christina and asked, + “What does he mean, my dearie?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean this,” cried Andrew with gathering passion, “I + mean that I had nearly a thousand pounds taken out of my room yon night + that you should have gone to the boats—and that you did <i>not</i> + go.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you intend to say that I took your thousand pounds? Mind your + words, Andrew Binnie!” and as he spoke, he put Christina behind him + and stood squarely before Andrew. And his face was a flame of passion. + </p> + <p> + “I am most sure you took it. Prove to me that you did not.” + </p> + <p> + Before the words were finished, they were answered with a blow, the blow + was promptly returned; and then the two men closed in a deadly struggle. + Christina was white and sick with terror, but withal glad that Andrew had + found himself so promptly answered. Janet turned sharply at the first + blow, and threw herself between the men. All the old prowess of the + fish-wife was roused in her. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you?” she cried in a temper quite equal to their + own. “I’ll have no cursing and fighting in my house,” + and with a twist of her hand in her son’s collar, she threw him back + in his chair. Then she turned to Jamie and cried angrily— + </p> + <p> + “Jamie Logan, my bonnie lad, if you have got nothing to say for + yourself, you’ll do well to take your way down the cliff.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been called a ‘thief’ in this house,” he + answered; and wounded feeling and a bitter sense of wrong made his voice + tremble. “I came here to kiss my bride; and I know nothing at all of + what Andrew means. I will swear it. Give me the Bible.” + </p> + <p> + “Let my Bible alone,” shouted Andrew. “I’ll have + no man swear to a lie on my Bible. Get out of my house, James Logan, and + be thankful that I don’t call the officers to take care of you.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a mad man inside of you, Andrew Binnie, or a devil of some + kind, and you are not fit to be in the same house with good women. Come + with me, Christina. I’ll marry you tonight at the Largo minister’s + house. Come my dear lassie. Never mind aught you have, but your plaidie.” + </p> + <p> + Christina rose and put out her hand. Andrew leaped to his feet and strode + between them. + </p> + <p> + “I will strike you to the ground, if you dare to touch my sister + again,” he shouted, and if Janet had not taken both his hands in her + own strong grip, Andrew would have kept his threat. Then Janet’s + anger turned most unreasonably upon Christina— + </p> + <p> + “Go ben the house,” she screamed. “Go ben the house, you + worrying, whimpering lassie. You will be having the whole village fighting + about you the next thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going with Jamie, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + “I will take very good care, you do <i>not</i> go with Jamie. There + is not a soul, but Jamie Logan, will leave this house tonight. I would + just like to see any other man or woman try it,” and she looked + defiantly both at Andrew and Christina. + </p> + <p> + “I ran the risk of losing my berth to come here,” said Jamie. + “More fool, I. I have been called ‘thief’ and ‘loon’ + for doing it. I came for your sake, Christina, and now you must go with me + for my sake. Come away, my dearie, and there is none that shall part us + more.” + </p> + <p> + Again Christina rose, and again her mother interfered. “You will go + out of this house alone, Jamie Logan. I don’t know whether you are + right or wrong. I know nothing about that weary siller. But I do know + there has been nothing but trouble to my boy since he saved you from the + sea. I am not saying it is your fault; but the sea has been against him + ever since, and now you will go away, and you will stay away.” + </p> + <p> + “Christina, am I to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Go, Jamie, but I will come to you, and there is none that shall + keep me from you.” + </p> + <p> + Then Jamie went, and far down on the sands Christina heard him call, + “Good-bye, Christina! Good-bye!” And she would have answered + him, but Janet had locked the door, and the key was in her pocket. Then + for hours the domestic storm raged, Andrew growing more and more positive + and passionate, until even Janet was alarmed, and with tears and coaxing + persuaded him to go to bed. Still in this hurly burly of temper, Christina + kept her purpose intact. She was determined to go to Glasgow as soon as + she could get outside. If she was in time for a marriage with Jamie, she + would be his wife at once. If Jamie had gone, then she would hire herself + out until the return of his ship. + </p> + <p> + This was the purpose she intended to carry out in the morning, but before + the dawn her mother awakened her out of a deep sleep. She was in a sweat + of terror. + </p> + <p> + “Run up the cliff for Thomas Roy,” she cried, “and then + send Sandy for the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Your brother Andrew is raving, and clean beyond himself, and I’m + feared for him, and for us all. Quick Christina! There is not a moment to + lose!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. — THE BEGINNING OF THE END + </h2> + <p> + On this same night the Mistress of Braelands sat musing by the glowing bit + of fire in her bedroom, while her maid, Allister, was folding away her + silk dinner-gown, and making the preparations for the night’s + toilet. She was a stately, stern-looking woman, with that air of authority + which comes from long and recognised position. Her dressing-gown of pale + blue flannel fell amply around her tall form; her white hair was still + coiled and puffed in an elaborate fashion, and there was at the + wrist-bands of her sleeves a fall of lace which half covered her long, + shapely white hands. She was pinching its plaits mechanically, and + watching the effect as she idly turned them in the firelight to catch the + gleam of opal and amethyst rings. But this accompaniment to her thoughts + was hardly a conscious one; she had admired her hands for so many years + that she was very apt to give to their beauty this homage of involuntary + observation, even when her thoughts were fixed on subjects far-off and + alien to them. + </p> + <p> + “Allister,” she said, suddenly, “I wonder where Mr. + Archibald will be this night.” + </p> + <p> + “The Lord knows, Madame, and it is well he does; for it is little we + know of ourselves and the ways we walk in.” + </p> + <p> + “The Lord looks after his own, Allister, and Mr. Archibald was given + to him by kirk and parents before he was a month old. But if a man marries + such a woman as you know nothing about, and then goes her ways, what will + you say then?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not as bad as that, Madame. Mrs. Archibald is of well-known + people, though poor.” + </p> + <p> + “Though low-born, Allister. Poverty can be tholed, and even + respected; but for low birth there is no remedy but being born over again.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Madame, she is Braelands now, and that is a cloak to cover + all defects; and if I was you I would just see that it did so.” + </p> + <p> + “She is my son’s wife, and must be held as such, both by + gentle and simple.” + </p> + <p> + “And there is few ills that have not a good side to them, Madame. If + Mr. Archibald had married Miss Roberta Elgin, as you once feared he would + do, there would have been a flitting for you and for me, Madame. Miss + Roberta would have had the whole of Braelands House to herself, and the + twenty-two rooms of it wouldn’t have been enough for her. And she + would have taken the Braelands’s honour and glory on her own + shoulders. It would have been ‘Mrs. Archibald Braelands’ here + and there and everywhere, and you would have been pushed out of sight and + hearing, and passed by altogether, like as not; for if youth and beauty + and wealth and good blood set themselves to have things their own way, + which way at all will age that is not rich keep for itself? Sure as death, + Madame, you would have had to go to the Dower House, which is but a mean + little place, though big enough, no doubt, for all the friends and + acquaintances that would have troubled themselves to know you there.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not complimentary, Allister. I think I have few friends who + would <i>not</i> have followed me to the Dower House.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, Madame, you may as well think so. But carriages aye stop at + big houses; indeed, the very coachmen and footmen and horses are dead set + against calling at cottages. There is many a lady who would be feared to + ask her coachman to call at the Dower House. But what for am I talking? + There is no occasion to think that Mrs. Archibald will ever dream of + sending you out of his house.” + </p> + <p> + “I came here a bride, nearly forty years ago, Allister,” she + said, with a touch of sentimental pity for herself in the remembrance. + </p> + <p> + “So you have had a long lease, Madame, and one like to be longer; + for never a better son than your son; and I do think for sure that the + lady he has married will be as biddable as a very child with you.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so. For she will have everything to learn about society, and + who can teach her better than I can, Allister?” + </p> + <p> + “No one, Madame; and Mrs. Archibald was ever good at the uptake. I + am very sure if you will show her this and that, and give her the word + here and there yourself, Madame, there will be no finer lady in Fife + before the year has come and gone. And she cannot be travelling with Mr. + Archibald without learning many a thing all the winter long.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they will not be home before the spring, I hear.” + </p> + <p> + “And oh, Madame, by that date you will have forgot that all was not + as you wanted it! And no doubt you will give the young things the loving + welcome they are certain to be longing for.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, Allister. The marriage was a great sorrow, and + shame, and disappointment to me. I am not sure that I have forgiven it.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Beith was saying you never would forgive it. She was saying + that you could never forgive any one’s faults but your own.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Beith is very impertinent. And pray what faults has Lady Beith + ever seen in me?” + </p> + <p> + “It was her general way of speaking, Madame. She has that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you might tell Lady Beith’s woman, that such general + ways of speaking are extremely vulgar. When her ladyship speaks of the + Mistress of Braelands again, I will ask her to refer to me, particularly. + I have my own virtues as well as my own faults, and my own position, and + my own influence, and I do not go into the generalities of life. I am the + Mistress of Braelands yet, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so, Madame. As I was saying, Mrs. Archibald is biddable as a + child; but then again, she is quite capable of taking the rudder into her + own hands, and driving in the teeth of the wind. You can’t ever be + sure of fisher blood. It is like the ocean, whiles calm as a sleeping + baby, whiles lashing itself into a very fury. There is both this and that + in the Traills, and Mrs. Archibald is one of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Any way and every way, this marriage is a great sorrow to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not disputing that, Madame; but I am sure you remember what + the minister was saying to you at his last visitation—that every + sorrow you got the mastery over was a benefactor.” + </p> + <p> + “The minister is not always orthodox, Allister.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a very good man; every one is saying that.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt, no doubt, but he deviates.” + </p> + <p> + “Well then, Madame, even if the marriage be as bad as you fancy it, + bad things as well as good ones come to an end, and life, after all, is + like a bit of poetry I picked up somewhere, which says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There’s nane exempt frae worldly cares + And few frae some domestic jars + Whyles <i>all</i> are in, whyles <i>all</i> are out, + And grief and joy come turn about. +</pre> + <p> + And it’s the turn now for the young people to be happy. Cold and + bleak it is here on the Fife coast, but they are among roses and sunshine + and so God bless them, I say, and keep us and every one from cutting short + their turn of happiness. You had your bride time, Madame, and when Angus + McAllister first took me to his cottage in Strathmoyer, I thought I was on + a visit to Paradise.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me my glass of negus, and then I will go to bed. Everybody has + taken to preaching and advising lately, and that is not the kind of + fore-talk that spares after-talk—not it, Allister.” + </p> + <p> + She sunk then into unapproachable silence, and Allister knew that she + needed not try to move her further that night in any direction. Her eyes + were fixed upon the red coals, but she was really thinking of the roses + and sunshine of the South, and picturing to herself her son and his bride, + wandering happily amid the warmth and beauty. + </p> + <p> + In reality, they were crossing the Braelands’s moor at that very + moment The rain was beating against the closed windows of their coach, and + the horses floundering heavily along the boggy road. Sophy’s head + rested on her husband’s shoulder, but they were not talking, nor had + they spoken for some time. Both indeed were tired and depressed, and + Archie at least was unpleasantly conscious of the wonderment their + unexpected return would cause. + </p> + <p> + The end of April or the beginning of May had been the time appointed, and + yet here they were, at the threshold of their home, in the middle of the + winter. Sophy’s frail health had been Archie’s excuse for a + season in the South with her; and she was coming back to Scotland when the + weather was at its very bleakest and coldest. One excuse after another + formed itself in Archie’s mind, only to be peremptorily dismissed. + “It is no one’s business but our own,” he kept assuring + himself, “and I will give neither reason nor apology but my wife’s + desire.” and yet he knew that reasons and apologies would be asked, + and he was fretting inwardly at their necessity, and wondering vaguely if + women ever did know what they really wanted. + </p> + <p> + For to go to France and Germany and Italy, had seemed to Sophy the very + essence of every joy in life. Before her marriage, she had sat by Archie’s + side hour after hour, listening to his descriptions of foreign lands, and + dreaming of all the delights that were to meet her in them. She had + started on this bridal trip with all her senses set to an unnatural key of + expectation, and she had, of course, suffered continual disappointments + and disillusions. The small frets and sicknesses of travel, the loneliness + of being in places where she could not speak even to her servants, or go + shopping without an attendant, the continual presence of what was strange—of + what wounded her prejudices and very often her conscience,—and the + constant absence of all that was familiar and approved, were in themselves + no slight cause of unhappiness. + </p> + <p> + Yet it had been a very gradual disillusion, and one mitigated by many + experiences that had fully justified even Sophy’s extravagant + anticipations. The trouble, in the main, was one common to a great + majority of travellers for pleasure—a mind totally unprepared for + the experience. + </p> + <p> + She grew weary of great cities which had no individual character or + history in her mind; weary of fine hotels in which she was of no special + importance; weary of art which had no meaning for her. Her child-like + enthusiasms, which at first both delighted and embarrassed her husband, + faded gradually away; the present not only lost its charm, but she began + to look backward to the homely airs and scenes of Fife, and to suffer from + a nostalgia that grew worse continually. + </p> + <p> + However, Archie bore her unreasonable depression with great consideration. + She was but a frail child after all, and she was in a condition of health + demanding the most affectionate patience and tenderness he could give her. + Besides, it was no great sin in his eyes to be sick with longing for dear + old Scotland. He loved his native land; and his little mountain blue-bell, + trembling in every breeze, and drooping in every hour of heat and + sunshine, appealed to the very best instincts of his nature. And when + Sophy began to voice her longing, to cry a little in his arms, and to say + she was wearying for a sight of the great grey sea round her Fife home, + Archie vowed he was homesick as a man could be, and asked, “why they + should stop away from their own dear land any longer?” + </p> + <p> + “People will wonder and talk so, Archie They will say unkind things—they + will maybe say we are not happy together.” + </p> + <p> + “Let them talk. What care we? And we are happy together. Do you want + to go back to Scotland tomorrow? today—this very hour?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye. I do, Archie. And I am that weak and poorly, if I don’t + go soon, maybe I will have to wait a long time, and then you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. And that would never, never do. Braelands of Fife + cannot run the risk of having his heir born in a foreign country. Why, it + would be thrown up to the child, lad and man, as long as he lived! So call + your maid, my bonnie Sophy, and set her to packing all your braws and + pretty things, and we will turn our faces to Scotland’s hills and + braes tomorrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + Thus it happened that on that bleak night in February, Archie Braelands + and his wife came suddenly to their home amid the stormy winds and rains + of a stormy night. Madame heard the wheels of their carriage as she sat + sipping her negus, and thinking over her conversation with Allister and + her alert soul instantly divined <i>who</i> the late comers were. + </p> + <p> + “Give me my silk morning gown and my brocade petticoat, Allister,” + she cried, as she rose up hastily and set down her glass. “Mr. + Archibald has come home; his carriage is at the door—haste ye, + woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you be heeding your silks to-night, Madame?” + </p> + <p> + “Get them at once. Quick! Do you think I will meet the bride in a + flannel dressing-gown? No, no! I am not going to lose ground the first + hour.” + </p> + <p> + With nervous haste the richer garments were donned, and just as the final + gold brooch was clasped, Archie knocked at his mother’s door. She + opened to him with her own hands, and took him to her heart with an + effusive affection she rarely permitted herself to exhibit. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad that you are dressed, Mother,” he said. “Sophy + must not miss your welcome, and the poor little woman is just weary to + death.” Then he whispered some words to her, which brought a flush + of pride and joy to his own face, but no such answering response to Madame’s. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” she replied, “I am sorry she is so tired. It + seems to me, that the women of this generation are but weak creatures.” + </p> + <p> + Then she took her son’s arm, and went down to the parlour, where + servants were re-kindling the fire, and setting a table with refreshments + for the unexpected guests. Sophy was resting on a sofa drawn towards the + hearth. Archie had thrown his travelling cloak of black fox over her, and + her white, flower-like face, surrounded by the black fur, had a singularly + pathetic beauty. She opened her large blue eyes as Madame approached and + looked at her with wistful entreaty; and Madame, in spite of all her + pre-arrangements of conduct, was unable at that hour not to answer the + appeal for affection she saw in them. She stooped and kissed the childlike + little woman, and Archie watched this token of reconciliation and promise + with eyes wet with happiness. + </p> + <p> + When supper was served, Madame took her usual place at the head of the + table, and Archie noticed the circumstance, though it did not seem a + proper time to make any remark about it. For Sophy was not able to eat, + and did not rise from her couch; and Madame seemed to fall so properly + into her character of hostess, that it would have been churlish to have + made the slightest dissent. Yet it was a false kindness to both; for in + the morning Madame took the same position, and Archie felt less able than + on the previous night to make any opposition, though he had told himself + continually on his homeward journey that he would not suffer Sophy to be + imposed upon, and would demand for her the utmost title of her rights as + his wife. + </p> + <p> + In this resolve, however, he had forgot to take into account his mother’s + long and absolute influence over him. When she was absent, it was + comparatively easy to relegate her to the position she ought to occupy; + when she was present, he found it impossible to say or do anything which + made her less than Mistress of Braelands. And during the first few weeks + after her return, Sophy helped her mother-in-law considerably against + herself. She was so anxious to please, so anxious to be loved, so afraid + of making trouble for Archie, that she submitted without protest to one + infringement after another on her rights as the wife of the Master of + Braelands. All the same she was dumbly conscious of the wrong being done + to her; and like a child, she nursed her sense of the injustice until it + showed itself in a continual mood of sullen, silent protest. + </p> + <p> + After the lapse of a month or more, she became aware that even her ill + health was used as a weapon against her, and she suddenly resolved to + throw off her lassitude, and assert her right to go out and call upon her + friends. But she was petulant and foolish in the carrying out of the + measure. She had made up her mind to visit her aunt on the following day, + and though the weather was bitterly cold and damp, she adhered to her + resolution. Madame, at first politely, finally with provoking + positiveness, told her “she would not permit her to risk her life, + and a life still more precious, for any such folly.” + </p> + <p> + Then Sophy rose, with a sudden excitement of manner, and rang the bell. + When the servant appeared, she ordered the carriage to be ready for her in + half an hour. Madame waited until they were alone, and then said: + </p> + <p> + “Sophy, go to your room and lie down. You are not fit to go out. I + shall counter-order the carriage in your name.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not,” cried the trembling, passionate girl. “You + have ordered and counter-ordered in my name too much. You will, in the + future, mind your own affairs, and leave me to attend to mine.” + </p> + <p> + “When Archie comes back” + </p> + <p> + “You will tell him all kinds of lies. I know that.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not lie.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not; but you misrepresent things so, that you make it + impossible for Archie to get at the truth. I want to see my aunt. You have + kept me from her, and kept her from me, until I am sick for a sight of + those who <i>really</i> love me. I am going to Aunt Kilgour’s this + very morning, whether you like it or not.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall not leave this house until Archie comes back from Largo. + I will not take the responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see. <i>I</i> will take the responsibility myself. <i>I</i> + am mistress of Braelands. You will please remember that fact. And I know + my rights, though I have allowed you to take them from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophy, listen to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to Aunt Kilgour’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Archie will be very angry.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if you will let him judge for himself. Anyway, I don’t + care. I am going to see my aunt! You expect Archie to be always thinking + of feelings, and your likes and dislikes. I have just as good a right to + care about my aunt’s feelings. She was all the same as mother to me. + I have been a wicked lassie not to have gone to her lang syne.” + </p> + <p> + “Wicked lassie! Lang syne! I wish you would at least try to speak + like a lady.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a lady. I am just one of God’s fisher folk. I want + to see my own kith and kin. I am going to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not—until your husband gives you permission.” + </p> + <p> + “Permission! do you say? I will go on my own permission, Sophy + Braelands’s permission.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a shame to take the horses out in such weather—and poor + old Thomas.” + </p> + <p> + “Shame or not, I shall take them out.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, no! I cannot permit you to make a fool and a laughing-stock + of yourself.” She rang the bell sharply and sent for the coachman + When he appeared, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Thomas, I think the horses had better not go out this morning. It + is bitterly cold, and there is a storm coming from the northeast. Do you + not think so?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a bad day, Madame, and like to be worse.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we will not go out.” + </p> + <p> + As Madame uttered the words, Sophy walked rapidly forward. All the passion + of her Viking ancestors was in her face, which had undergone a sort of + transfiguration. Her eyes flashed, her soft curly yellow hair seemed + instinct with a strange life and brilliancy, and she said with an + authority that struck Madame with amazement and fear: + </p> + <p> + “Thomas, you will have the carriage at the door in fifteen minutes, + exactly,” and she drew out her little jewelled watch, and gave him + the time with a smiling, invincible calmness. + </p> + <p> + Thomas looked from one woman to the other, and said, fretfully, “A + man canna tak’ twa contrary orders at the same minute o’ time. + What will I do in the case?” + </p> + <p> + “You will do as I tell you, Thomas,” said Madame. “You + have done so for twenty years. Have you come to any scath or wrong by it?” + </p> + <p> + “If the carriage is not at the door in fifteen minutes, you will + leave Braelands this night, Thomas,” said Sophy. “Listen! I + give you fifteen minutes; after that I shall walk into Largo, and you can + answer to your master for it. I am Mistress of Braelands. Don’t + forget that fact if you want to keep your place, Thomas.” + </p> + <p> + She turned passionately away with the words, and left the room. In fifteen + minutes she went to the front door in her cloak and hood, and the carriage + was waiting there. “You will drive me to my aunt Kilgour’s + shop,” she said with an air of reckless pride and defiance. It + pleased her at that hour to humble herself to her low estate. And it + pleased Thomas also that she had done so. His sympathy was with the fisher + girl. He was delighted that she had at last found courage to assert + herself, for Sophy’s wrongs had been the staple talk of the + kitchen-table and fireside. + </p> + <p> + “No born lady I ever saw,” he said afterwards to the cook, + “could have held her own better. It will be an even fight between + them two now, and I will bet my shilling on fisherman Traill’s girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame has more wit, and more <i>hold out</i>” answered the + cook. “Mrs. Archibald is good for a spurt, but I’ll be bound + she cried her eyes red at Griselda Kilgour’s, and was as weak as a + baby.” + </p> + <p> + This opinion was a perfectly correct one. Once in her aunt’s little + back parlour, Sophy gave full sway to her childlike temper. She told all + her wrongs, and was comforted by her kinswoman’s interest and pity, + and strengthened in her resolution to resist Madame’s interference + with her life. And then the small black teapot was warmed and filled, and + Sophy begged for a herring and a bit of oatcake; and the two women sat + close to one another, and Miss Kilgour told Sophy all the gossip and clash + of gossip there had been about Christina Binnie and her lover, and how the + marriage had been broken off, no one knowing just why, but many thinking + that since Jamie Logan had got a place on “The Line,” he was + set on bettering himself with a girl something above the like of Christina + Binnie. + </p> + <p> + And as they talked Helen Marr came into the shop for a yard of ribbon, and + said it was the rumour all through Pittendurie, that Andrew Binnie was all + but dead, and folks were laying all the blame upon the Mistress of + Braelands, for that every one knew that Andrew had never held up his head + an hour since her marriage. And though Miss Kilgour did not encourage this + phase of gossip, yet the woman would persist in describing his sufferings, + and the poverty that had come to the Binnies with the loss of their only + bread-winner, and the doctors to pay, and the medicine folks said they had + not the money to buy, and much more of the same sort, which Sophy heard + every word of, knowing also that Helen Marr must have seen her carriage at + the door, and so, knowing of her presence, had determined that she should + hear it. + </p> + <p> + Certainly if Helen had wished to wound her to the very heart, she + succeeded. When Miss Kilgour got rid of her customer, and came back to + Sophy, she found her with her face in the pillow, sobbing passionately + about the trouble of her old friends. She did not name Andrew, but the + thought of his love and suffering hurt her sorely, and she could not + endure to think of Janet’s and Christina’s long hardships and + sorrow. For she knew well how much they would blame her, and the thought + of their anger, and of her own apparent ingratitude, made her sick with + shame and grief. And as they talked of this new trouble, and Sophy sent + messages of love and pity to Janet and Christina, the shop-bell rung + violently, and Sophy heard her husband’s step, and in another moment + he was at her side, and quite inclined to be very angry with her for + venturing out in such miserable weather. + </p> + <p> + Then Sophy seized her opportunity, and Miss Kilgour left them alone for + the explanation that was better to be made there than at Braelands. And + for once Archie took his wife’s part without reservation. He was not + indeed ill-pleased that she had assumed her proper position, and when he + slipped a crown into Thomas’s hand, the man also knew that he had + done wisely. Indeed there was something in the coachman’s face and + air which affected Madame unpleasantly, before she noticed that Sophy had + returned in her husband’s company, and that they were evidently on + the most affectionate terms. + </p> + <p> + “I have lost this battle,” she said to herself, and she wisely + retreated to her own room, and had a nominal headache, and a very genuine + heartache about the loss. + </p> + <p> + All day long Sophy was at an unnatural pitch, all day long she exerted + herself, as she had not done for weeks and months, to entertain and keep + her husband at her side, and all day long her pretty wifely triumph was + bright and unbroken. The very servants took a delight in ministering to + it, and Madame was not missed in a single item of the household routine. + But about midnight there was a great and sudden change. Bells were + frantically rung, lights flew about the house, and there was saddling of + horses and riding in hot haste into Largo for any or all the doctors that + could be found. + </p> + <p> + Then Madame came quietly from her seclusion, and resumed her place as head + of the household, for the little mistress of one day lay in her chamber + quite unconscious of her lost authority. Some twelve hours later, the + hoped-for heir of Braelands was born, and died, and Sophy, on the very + outermost shoal of life, felt the wash and murmur of that dark river which + flows to the Eternal Sea. + </p> + <p> + It was no time to reproach the poor little wife, and yet Madame did not + scruple to do so. “She had warned Sophy,—she had begged her + not to go out—she had been insulted for endeavouring to prevent what + had come to pass just as she had predicted.” And in spite of Archie’s + love and pity, her continual regrets did finally influence him. He began + to think he had been badly used, and to agree with Madame in her + assertions that Sophy must be put under some restrictions, and subjected + to some social instruction. + </p> + <p> + “The idea of the Braelands’s carriage standing two hours at + Griselda Kilgour’s shop door! All the town talking about it! Every + one wondering what had happened at Braelands, to drive your wife out of + doors in such weather. All sorts of rumours about you and Sophy, and + Griselda shaking her head and sighing and looking unspeakable things, just + to keep the curiosity alive; and the crowds of gossiping women coming and + going to her shop. Many a cap and bonnet has been sold to your name, + Archie, no doubt, and I can tell you my own cheeks are kept burning with + the shame of the whole affair! And then this morning, the first thing she + said to me was, that she wanted to see her cousins Isobel and Christina.” + </p> + <p> + “She asked me also about them, Mother, and really, I think she had + better be humoured in this matter. Our friends are not her friends.” + </p> + <p> + “They ought to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us be just. When has she had any opportunity to make them so? + She has seen no one yet,—her health has been so bad—and it did + often look. Mother, as if you encouraged her <i>not</i> to see callers.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I did, Archie. You cannot blame me. Her manners are so + crude, so exigent, so effusive. She is so much pleased, or so indifferent + about people; so glad to see them, or else so careless as to how she + treats them. You have no idea what I suffered when Lady Blair called, and + insisted on meeting your wife. Of course she pretended to fall in love + with her, and kissed, and petted, and flattered Sophy, until the girl + hardly knew what she was doing or saying. And as for ‘saying,’ + she fell into broad Scotch, as she always does when she is pleased or + excited, and Lady Blair professed herself charmed, and talked broad Scotch + back to her. And I? I sat tingling with shame and annoyance, for I knew + right well what mockeries and laughter Sophy was supplying Annette Blair + with for her future visitors.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are wrong. Lady Blair is not at all ill-natured. She + was herself a poor minister’s daughter, and accustomed to go in and + out of the fishers’ cottages. I can imagine that she would really be + charmed with Sophy.” + </p> + <p> + “You can ‘imagine’ what you like; that will not alter + the real state of the case; and if Sophy is ever to take her position as + your wife, she must be prepared for it. Besides which, it will be a good + thing to give her some new interests in life, for she must drop the old + ones. About that there cannot be two opinions.” + </p> + <p> + “What then do you propose, Mother?” + </p> + <p> + “I should get proper teachers for her. Her English education has + been frightfully neglected; and she ought to learn music and French.” + </p> + <p> + “She speaks French pretty well. I never saw any one pick up a + language as cleverly as she did the few weeks we were in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “O, she is clever enough if she wants to be! There is a French woman + teaching at Miss Linley’s Seminary. She will perfect her. And I have + heard she also plays well. It would be a good thing to engage her for + Sophy, two or three hours a day. A teacher for grammar, history, writing, + etc., is easily found. I myself will give her lessons in social etiquette, + and in all things pertaining to the dignity and decorum which your wife + ought to exhibit. Depend upon it, Archie, this routine is absolutely + necessary. It will interest and occupy her idle hours, of which she has + far too many; and it will wean her better than any other thing from her + low, uncultivated relations.” + </p> + <p> + “The poor little woman says she wants to be loved; that she is + lonely when I am away; that no one but the servants care for her; that + therefore she wants to see her cousins and kinsfolk.” + </p> + <p> + “She does me a great injustice. I would love her if she would be + reasonable—if she would only trust me. But idle hearts are lonely + hearts, Archie. Tell her you wish her to study, and fit herself for the + position you have raised her to. Surely the desire to please you ought to + be enough. Do you know <i>who</i> this Christina Binnie is that she talks + so continually about?” + </p> + <p> + “Her fourth or fifth cousin, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “She is the sister of the man you won Sophy from—the man whom + you struck across the cheek with your whip. Now do you wish her to see + Christina Binnie!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do! Do you think I am jealous or fearful of my wife? No, by + Heaven! No! Sophy may be unlearned and unfashionable, but she is loyal and + true, and if she wants to see her old lover and his sister, she has my + full permission. As for the fisherman, he behaved very nobly. And I did + not intend to strike him. It was an accident, and I shall apologise for it + the first opportunity I have to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a fool, Archie Braelands.” + </p> + <p> + “I am a husband, who knows his wife’s heart and who trusts in + it. And though I think you are quite right in your ideas about Sophy’s + education, I do not think you are right in objecting to her seeing her old + friends. Every one in this bound of Fife knows that I married a + fisher-girl. I never intend to be ashamed of the fact. If our social world + will accept her as the representative of my honour and my family, I shall + be obliged to the world. If it will not, I can live without its approval—having + Sophy to love me and live with me. I counted all this cost before I + married; you may be sure of that, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + “You forgot, however, to take my honour and feelings into your + consideration.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew, Mother, that you were well able to protect your own honour + and feelings.” + </p> + <p> + This conversation but indicates the tone of many others which occupied the + hours mother and son passed together during Sophy’s convalescence. + And the son, being the weaker character of the two, was insensibly moved + and moulded to all Madame’s opinions. Indeed, before Sophy was well + enough to begin the course of study marked out for her, Archie had become + thoroughly convinced that it was his first duty to his wife and himself to + insist upon it. + </p> + <p> + The weak, loving woman made no objections. Indeed, Archie’s evident + enthusiasm sensibly affected her own desires. She listened with pleasure + to the plans for her education, and promised “as soon as she was + able, to do her very best.” + </p> + <p> + And there was a strange pathos in the few words “as soon as I am + able,” which Archie remembered years afterwards, when it was far too + late. At the moment, they touched him but lightly, but <i>Oh, afterwards!</i> + Oh, afterwards! when memory brought back the vision of the small white + face on the white pillow, and the faint golden light of the golden curls + shadowing the large blue eyes that even then had in them that wide gaze + and wistfulness that marks those predestined for sorrow or early death. + Alas! Alas! We see too late, we hear too late, when it is the dead who + open the eyes and the ears of the living! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. — A GREAT DELIVERANCE + </h2> + <p> + While these clouds of sorrow were slowly gathering in the splendid house + of Braelands, there was a full tide of grief and anxiety in the humble + cottage of the Binnies. The agony of terror which had changed Janet Binnie’s + countenance, and sent Christina flying up the cliff for help, was well + warranted by Andrew’s condition. The man was in the most severe + maniacal delirium of brain inflammation, and before the dawning of the + next day, required the united strength of two of his mates to control him. + To leave her mother and brother in this extremity would have been a + cruelty beyond the contemplation of Christina Binnie. Its possibility + never entered her mind. All her anger and sense of wrong vanished before + the pitiful sight of the strong man in the throes of his mental despair + and physical agony. She could not quite ignore her waiting lover, even in + such an hour; but she was not a ready writer, so her words were few and to + the point:— + </p> + <p> + DEAR JAMIE—Andrew is ill and like to die, and my place, dear lad, is + here, until some change come. I must stand by mother and Andrew now, and + you yourself would bid me do so. Death is in the house and by the pillow, + and there is only God’s mercy to trust to. Andrew is clean off his + senses, and ill to manage, so you will know that he was not in reason when + he spoke so wrong to you, and you will be sorry for him and forgive the + words he said, because he did not know what he was saying; and now he + knows nothing at all, not even his mother. Do not forget to pray for us in + our sorrow, dear Jamie, and I will keep ever a prayer round about you in + case of danger on the sea or on land. Your true, troth-plighted wife, + </p> + <h3> + CHRISTINA BINNIE + </h3> + <p> + This letter was her last selfish act for many a week. After it had been + written, she put all her own affairs out of her mind and set herself with + heart and soul, by day and by night, to the duty before her. She suffered + no shadow of the bygone to darken her calm strong face or to weaken the + hands and heart from which so much was now expected. And she continually + told herself not to doubt in these dark days the mercy of the Eternal, + taking hope and comfort, as she went about her duties, from a few words + Janet had said, even while she was weeping bitterly over her son’s + sufferings— + </p> + <p> + “But I am putting all fear Christina, under my feet, for nothing + comes to pass without helping on some great end.” + </p> + <p> + Now what great end Andrew’s severe illness was to help on, Christina + could not divine; but like her brave mother, she put fear under her feet, + and looked confidently for “the end” which she trusted would + be accomplished in God’s time and mercy. + </p> + <p> + So week after week the two women walked with love and courage by the sick + man’s side, through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Often his + life lay but within his lips, and they watched with prayer continually, + lest he should slip away to them that had gone before, wanting its mighty + shield in the great perilous journey of the soul. And though there is no + open vision in these days, yet His Presence is ever near to those who seek + him with all the heart. So that wonderful things were seen and experienced + in that humble room, where the man lay at the point of death. + </p> + <p> + Andrew had his share of these experiences. Whatever God said to the + waiting, watching women, He kept for His suffering servant some of His + richest consolations, and so made all his bed in his sickness. Andrew was + keenly sensible of these ministrations, and he grew strong in their + heavenly strength; for though the vaults of God are full of wine, the soul + that has drunk of His strong wine of Pain knows that it has tasted the + costliest vintage of all, and asks on this earth no better. + </p> + <p> + And as our thoughts affect our surroundings, quite as much as rain or + sunshine affect the atmosphere, these two women, with the sick man on + their hearts and hands, were not unhappy women. They did their very best, + and trusted God for the outcome. Thus Heaven helped them, and their + neighbours helped them, and taking turns in their visitation, they found + the Kirk also to be a big, calm friend in the time of their trouble. And + then one morning, before the dawn broke, when life seemed to be at its + lowest point, when hope was nearly gone, and the shadow of Death fell + across the sick man’s face, there was suddenly a faint, strange + flutter. Some mighty one went out of the door, as the sunshine touched the + lintel, and the life began to turn back, just as the tide began to flow. + </p> + <p> + Then Janet rose up softly and opened the house door, and looking at her + son and at the turning waters, she said solemnly:— + </p> + <p> + “Thank God, Christina! He has turned with the tide? He is all right + now.” + </p> + <p> + It was April, however, in its last days, before Andrew had strength + sufficient to go down the cliff, and the first news he heard in the + village, was that Mistress Braelands had lain at death’s door also. + Doubtless it explained some testimony private to his own experience, for + he let the intelligence pass through his ear-chambers into his heart, + without remark, but it made there a great peace—a peace pure and + loving as that which passeth understanding. + </p> + <p> + There was, however, no hope or expectation of his resuming work until the + herring fishing in June, and Janet and Christina were now suffering sorely + from a strange dilemma. Never before in all their lives had they known + what it was to be pinched for ready money. It was hard for Janet to + realise that there was no longer “a little bit in the Largo bank to + fall back on.” Naturally economical, and always regarding it as a + sacred duty to live within the rim of their shilling, they had never known + either the slow terror of gathering debt, or the acute pinch of actual + necessity. But Andrew’s long sickness, with all its attendant + expenses, had used up all Janet’s savings, and the day at last + dawned when they must either borrow money, or run into debt. + </p> + <p> + It was a strange and humiliating position, especially after Janet’s + little motherly bragging about her Christina’s silken wedding gown, + and brawly furnished floor in Glasgow. Both mother and daughter felt it + sorely; and Christina looked at her brother with some little angry + amazement, for he appeared to be quite oblivious of their cruel strait. He + said little about his work, and never spoke at all about Sophy or his lost + money. In the tremendous furnace of his affliction, these elements of it + appeared to have been utterly consumed. + </p> + <p> + Neither mother nor sister liked to remind him of them, nor yet to point + out the poverty to which his long sickness had reduced them. It might be + six weeks before the herring fishing roused him to labour, and they had + spent their last sixpence. Janet began seriously to think of lifting the + creel to her shoulders again, and crying “fresh fish” in Largo + streets. It was so many years since she had done this, that the idea was + painful both to Christina and herself. The girl would gladly have taken + her mother’s place, but this Janet would not hearken to. As yet, her + daughter had never had to haggle and barter among fish wives, and + house-wives; and she would not have her do it for a passing necessity. + Besides Jamie might not like it; and for many other reasons, the little + downcome would press hardest upon Christina. + </p> + <p> + There was one other plan by which a little ready money could be raised—that + was, to get a small mortgage on the cottage, and when all had been said + for and against this project, it seemed, after all, to be the best thing + to do. + </p> + <p> + Griselda Kilgour had money put away, and Christina was very certain she + would be glad to help them on such good security as a house and an acre or + two of land. Certainly Janet and Griselda had parted in bad bread at their + last interview, but in such a time of trouble, Christina did not believe + that her kinswoman would remember ill words that had passed, especially as + they were about Sophy’s marriage—a subject on which they had + every right to feel hurt and offended. + </p> + <p> + Still a mortgage on their home was a dreadful alternative to these + simple-minded women; they looked upon it as something very like a + disgrace. “A lawyer’s foot on the threshold,” said + Janet, “and who or what is to keep him from putting the key of the + cottage in his own pocket, and sending us into a cold and roofless world? + No! No! Christina. I had better by far lift the creel to my shoulders + again. Thank God, I have the health and strength to do it!” + </p> + <p> + “And what will folks be saying of me, to let you ware yourself on + the life of that work in your old age? If you turn fish-wife again, then I + be to seek service with some one who can pay me for my hands’ work.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, my dear lass, to-night we cannot work, but we may + sleep; and many a blessing comes, and us not thinking of it. Lie down a + wee, and God will comfort you; forbye, the pillow often gives us good + counsel. Keep a still heart tonight, and tomorrow is another day.” + </p> + <p> + Janet followed her own advice, and was soon sleeping as soundly and as + sweetly as a play-tired child; but Christina sat in the open doorway, + thinking of the strait they were in, and wondering if it would not be the + kindest and wisest thing to tell Andrew plainly of their necessity. Sooner + or later, he would find out that his mother was making his bread for him; + and she thought such knowledge, coming from strangers, or through some + accident, would wound him more severely than if she herself explained + their hard position to him. As for the mortgage, the very thought of it + made her sick. “It is just giving our home away, bit by bit—that + is what a mortgage is—and whatever we are to do, and whatever I + ought to do, God only knows!” + </p> + <p> + Yet in spite of the stress of this, to her, terrible question, a singular + serenity possessed her. It was as if she had heard a voice saying “Peace, + be still!” She thought it was the calm of nature,—the high + tide breaking gently on the shingle with a low murmur, the soft warmth, + the full moonshine, the sound of the fishermen’s voices calling + faintly on the horizon,—and still more, the sense of divine care and + knowledge, and the sweet conviction that One, mighty to help and to save, + was her Father and her Friend. For a little space she walked abreast of + angels. So many things take place in the soul that are not revealed, and + it is always when we are wrestling <i>alone</i>, that the comforting ones + come. Christina looked downward to the village sleeping at her feet, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Beneath its little patch of sky, + And little lot of stars,” + </pre> + <p> + and upward, to where innumerable worlds were whirling noiselessly through + the limitless void, and forgot her own clamorous personality and “the + something that infects the world;” and doing this, though she did + not voice her anxiety, it passed from her heart into the Infinite Heart, + and thus she was calmed and comforted. Then, suddenly, the prayer of her + childhood and her girlhood came to her lips, and she stood up, and + clasping her hands, she cast her eyes towards heaven, and said reverently:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“<i>This is the change of Thy Right Hand, O Thou Most High + Thou art strong to strengthen.’ + Thou art gracious to help! + Thou art ready to better.’ + Thou art mighty to save’”</i> +</pre> + <p> + As the words passed her lips, she heard a movement, and softly and + silently as a spirit, her brother Andrew, fully dressed, passed through + the doorway. His arm lightly touched Christina’s clothing, but he + was unconscious of her presence. He looked more than mortal, and was + evidently seeing <i>through</i> his eyes, and not <i>with</i> them. She + was afraid to speak to him. She did not dream of touching him, or of + arresting his steps. Without a sign or word, he went rapidly down the + cliff, walking with that indifference to physical obstacles which a spirit + that had cast off its incarnation might manifest. + </p> + <p> + “He is walking in his sleep, and he may get into danger or find + death itself,” thought Christina, and her fear gave strength and + fleetness to her footsteps as she quickly followed her brother. He made no + noise of any kind; he did not even disturb a pebble in his path; but went + forward, with a motion light and rapid, and the very reverse of the slow, + heavy-footed gait of a fisherman. But she kept him in sight as he glided + over the ribbed and water-lined sands, and rounded the rocky points which + jutted into the sea water. After a walk of nearly two miles, he made + direct for a series of bold rocks which were penetrated by numberless + caverns, and into one of these he entered. + </p> + <p> + Hitherto he had not shown a moment’s hesitation, nor did he now + though the path was dangerously narrow and rocky, overhanging unfathomable + abysses of dark water. But Christina was in mortal terror, both for + herself and Andrew. She did not dare to call his name, lest, in the sudden + awakening he might miss his precarious foothold, and fall to unavoidable + death. She found it almost impossible to follow him nor indeed in her + ordinary frame of mind could she have done so. But the experience, so + strange and thrilling, had lifted her in a measure above the control of + the physical and she was conscious of an exaltation of spirit which defied + difficulties that would ordinarily have terrified her. Still she was so + much delayed by the precautions evidently necessary for her life, that she + lost sight of her brother, and her heart stood still with fright. + </p> + <p> + Prayers parted her white lips continually, as she slowly climbed the + hollow crags that seemed to close together and forbid her further + progress. But she would not turn back, for she could not believe that + Andrew had perished. She would have heard the fall of his body or its + splash in the water beneath and so she continued to climb and clamber + though every step appeared to make further exploration more and more + impossible. + </p> + <p> + With a startling unexpectedness, she found herself in a circular chamber, + open to the sky and on one of the large boulders lying around, Andrew sat. + He was still in the depths of a somnambulistic sleep; but he had his lost + box of gold and bank-notes before him, and he was counting the money. She + held her breath. She stood still as a stone. She was afraid to think. But + she divined at once the whole secret. Motionless she watched him, as he + unrolled and rerolled the notes, as he counted and recounted the gold, and + then carefully locked the box, and hid the key under the edge of the stone + on which he sat. + </p> + <p> + What would he now do with the box? She watched his movements with a + breathless interest. He sat still for a few moments, clasping his treasure + firmly in his large, brown hands; then he rose, and put it in an aperture + above his head, filling the space in front of it with a stone that exactly + fitted. Without hurry, and without hesitation, the whole transaction was + accomplished; and then, with an equal composure and confidence, he + retraced his steps through the cavern and over the rocks and sands to his + own sleeping room. + </p> + <p> + Christina followed as rapidly as she was able; but her exaltation had died + away, and left her weak and ready to weep; so that when she reached the + open beach, Andrew was so far in advance as to be almost out of sight. She + could not hope to overtake him, and she sat down for a few minutes to try + and realise the great relief that had come to them—to wonder—to + clasp her hands in adoration, to weep tears of joy. When she reached her + home at last, it was quite light. She looked into her brother’s + room, and saw that he was lying motionless in the deepest sleep; but Janet + was half-awake, and she asked sleepily:— + </p> + <p> + “Whatever are you about so early for, Christina? Isn’t the day + long enough for the sorrow and the care of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mother! Mother! The day isn’t long enough for the joy and + the blessing of it.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, my lass? What is it in your face? What have you + seen? Who has spoken a word to you?” and Janet rose up quickly, and + put her hands on Christina’s shoulders; for the girl was swaying and + trembling, and ready to break out into a passion of sobbing. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen, Mother, the salvation of the Lord! I have found Andrew’s + lost money! I have proved that poor Jamie is innocent! We aren’t + poor any longer. There is no need to borrow, or mortgage, or to run in + debt. Oh, Mother! Mother! The blessing you bespoke last night, the + blessing we were not thinking of, has come to us.” + </p> + <p> + “The Lord be thanked! I knew He would save us, in His own time, and + His time is never too late.” + </p> + <p> + Then Christina sat down by her mother’s side, and in low, intense + tones, told her all she had seen. Janet listened with kindling face and + shining eyes. + </p> + <p> + “The mercy of God is on His beloved, and His regard is unto His + elect,” she cried, “and I am glad this day, that I never + doubted Him, and never prayed to Him with a grudge at the bottom of my + heart.” Then she began to dress herself with her old joyfulness, + humming a line of this and that psalm or paraphrase, and stopping in the + middle to ask Christina another question; until the kettle began to simmer + to her happy mood, and she suddenly sung out joyfully four lines, never + very far from her lips:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“My heart is dashed with cares and fears, + My song comes fluttering and is gone; + Oh! High above this home of tears. + Eternal Joy sing on!” + </pre> + <p> + How would it feel for the hyssop on the wall to turn cedar, I wonder? Just + about as Janet and Christina felt that morning, eating their simple + breakfast with glad hearts. Poor as the viands were, they had the flavour + of joy and thankfulness, and of a wondrous salvation. “It is the + Lord’s doing!” This was the key to which the two women set all + their hopes and rejoicing, and yet even into its noble melody there stole + at last a little of the fret of earth. For suddenly Janet had a fear—not + of God, but of man—and she said anxiously to her daughter:— + </p> + <p> + “You should have brought the box home with you, Christina. O my + lass, if some other body should have seen what you have seen, then we will + be fairly ruined twice over.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Mother! I would not have touched the box for all there is + in it. Andrew must go for it himself. He might never believe it was where + I saw it, if he did not go for it. You know well he suspicioned both Jamie + and me; and indeed, Mother dear, you yourself thought worse of Jamie than + you should have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Let that be now, Christina. God has righted all. We will have no + casts up. If I thought of any one wrongly, I am sorry for it, and I could + not say more than that even to my Maker. If ill news was waiting for + Andrew, it would have shaken him off his pillow ere this.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him sleep. His soul took his body a weary walk this morning. He + is sore needing sleep, no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “He will have to wake up now, and go about his business. It is high + time.” + </p> + <p> + “You should mind, Mother, what a tempest he has come through; all + the waves and billows of sorrow have gone over him.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a good man, and ought to be the better of the tempest. His + ship may have been sorely beaten and tossed, but his anchor was fast all + through the storm. It is time he lifted anchor now, and faced the brunt + and the buffet again. An idle man, if he is not a sick man, is on a lee + shore, let him put out to sea, why, lassie! A storm is better than a + shipwreck.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, Mother. Here the dear lad comes!” and with that + Andrew sauntered slowly into the kitchen. There was no light on his face, + no hope or purpose in his movements. He sat down at the table, and drew + his cup of tea towards him with an air of indifference, almost of despair. + It wounded Janet. She put her hand on his hand, and compelled him to look + into her face. As he did so, his eyes opened wide; speculation, wonder, + something like hope came into them. The very silence of the two women—a + silence full of meaning—arrested his soul. He looked from one to the + other, and saw the same inscrutable joy answering his gaze. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Mother?” he asked. “I can see you have + something to tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “I have that, Andrew! O my dear lad, your money is found! I do not + think a penny-bit of it is missing. Don’t mind me! I am greeting for + the very joy of it—but O Andrew, you be to praise God! It is his + doing, and marvellous in our eyes. Ask Christina. She can tell you better + than I can.” + </p> + <p> + But Andrew could not speak. He touched his sister’s hand, and dumbly + looked into her happy face. He was white as death, but he sat bending + forward to her, with one hand outstretched, as if to clasp and grasp the + thing she had to tell him. So Christina told him the whole story, and + after he had heard it, he pushed his plate and cup away, and rose up, and + went into his room and shut the door. And Janet said gratefully:— + </p> + <p> + “It is all right, Christina. He’ll get nothing but good advice + in God’s council chamber. We’ll not need to worry ourselves + again anent either the lad or the money. The one has come to his senses, + and the other will come to its use. And we will cast nothing up to him; + the best boat loses her rudder once in a while.” + </p> + <p> + It was not long before Andrew joined his mother and sister, and the man + was a changed man. There was grave purpose in his calm face, and a joy, + too deep for words, in the glint of his eyes and in the graciousness of + his manner. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Christina!” he said. “I want you you to go with + me; we will bring the siller home together. But I forget—it is maybe + too far for you to walk again to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “I would walk ten times as far to pleasure you, Andrew. Do you know + the place I told you of?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, I know it well. I hid the first few shillings there that I + ever saved.” + </p> + <p> + As they walked together over the sands Christina said: “I wonder, + Andrew, when and how you carried the box there? Can you guess at all the + way this trouble came about?” + </p> + <p> + “I can, but I’m ashamed to tell you, Christina. You see, after + I had shown you the money, I took a fear anent it. I thought maybe you + might tell Jamie Logan, and the possibility of this fretted on my mind + until it became a sure thing with me. So, being troubled in my heart, I + doubtless got up in my sleep and put the box in my oldest and safest + hiding-place.” + </p> + <p> + “But why then did you not remember that you had done so?” + </p> + <p> + “You see, dearie, I hid it in my sleep, so then it was only in my + sleep I knew where I had put it. There is two of us, I am thinking, + lassie, and the one man does not always tell the other man all he knows. I + ought to have trusted you, Christina; but I doubted you, and, as mother + says, doubt aye fathers sin or sorrow of some kind or other.” + </p> + <p> + “You might have safely trusted me, Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “I know now I might. But he is lifeless that is faultless; and the + wrong I have done I must put right. I am thinking of Jamie Logan?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Jamie! You know now that he never wronged you?” + </p> + <p> + “I know, and I will let him know as soon as possible. When did you + hear from him? And where is he at all?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know just where he is. He sailed away yon time; and + when he got to New York, he left the ship.” + </p> + <p> + “What for did he do that?” + </p> + <p> + “O Andrew, I cannot tell. He was angry with me for not coming to + Glasgow as I promised him I would.” + </p> + <p> + “You promised him that?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, the night you were taken so bad. But how could I leave you in + Dead Man’s Dale and mother here lone to help you through it? So I + wrote and told him I be to see you through your trouble, and he went away + from Scotland and said he would never come back again till we found out + how sorely all of us had wronged him.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t cry, Christina! I will seek Jamie over the wide world + till I find him. I wonder at myself I am shamed of myself. However, will + you forgive me for all the sorrow I have brought on you?” + </p> + <p> + “You were not altogether to blame, Andrew. You were ill to death at + the time. Your brain was on fire, poor laddie, and it would be a sin to + hold you countable for any word you said or did not say. But if you will + seek after Jamie either by letter or your own travel, and say as much to + him as you have said to me I may be happy yet, for all that has come and + gone.” + </p> + <p> + “What else can I do but seek the lad I have wronged so cruelly? What + else can I do for the sister that never deserved ill word or deed from me? + No, I cannot rest until I have made the wrong to both of you as far right + as sorrow and siller can do.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached the cavern, Andrew would not let Christina enter it with + him. He said he knew perfectly well the spot to which he must go, and he + would not have her tread again the dangerous road. So Christina sat down + on the rocks to wait for him, and the water tinkled beneath her feet, and + the sunshine dimpled the water, and the fresh salt wind blew strength and + happiness into her heart and hopes. In a short time, the last moment of + her anxiety was over, and Andrew came back to her, with the box and its + precious contents in his hands. “It is all here!” he said, and + his voice had its old tones, for his heart was ringing to the music of its + happiness, knowing that the door of fortune was now open to him, and that + he could walk up to success, as to a friend, on his own hearthstone. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon he put the money in Largo bank, and made arrangements for + his mother’s and sister’s comfort for some weeks. “For + there is nothing I can do for my own side, until I have found Jamie Logan, + and put Christina’s and his affairs right,” he said. And Janet + was of the same opinion. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot bless yourself, laddie, until you bless others,” + she said, “and the sooner you go about the business, the better for + everybody.” + </p> + <p> + So that night Andrew started for Glasgow, and when he reached that city, + he was fortunate enough to find the very ship in which Jamie had sailed + away, lying at her dock. The first mate recalled the young man readily. + </p> + <p> + “The more by token that he had my own name,” he said to + Andrew. “We are both of us Fife Logans, and I took a liking to the + lad, and he told me his trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “About some lost money?” asked Andrew. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, he said nothing about money. It was some love trouble, I take + it. He thought he could better forget the girl if he ran away from his + country and his work. He has found out his mistake by this time, no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “You knew he was going to leave ‘The Line’ then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we let him go; and I heard say that he had shipped on an + American line, sailing to Cuba, or New Orleans, or somewhere near the + equator.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I shall try and find him.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t, if I was you. He is sure to come back to his home + again. He showed me a lock of the lassie’s hair. Man! a single + strand of it would pull him back to Scotland sooner or later.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have wronged him sorely. I did not mean to wrong him, but + that does not alter the case.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit. Love sickness is one thing; a wrong against a man’s + good name or good fortune, is a different matter. I would find him and + right him.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I want to do.” + </p> + <p> + And so when the <i>Circassia</i> sailed out of Greenock for New York, + Andrew Binnie sailed in her. “It is not a very convenient journey,” + he said rather sadly, as he left Scotland behind him, “but wrong has + been done, and wrong has no warrant, and I’ll never have a good day + till I put the wrong right; so the sooner the better, for, as Mother says, + ‘that which a fool does at the end a wise man does at the beginning.’” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. — THE RIGHTING OF A WRONG + </h2> + <p> + So Andrew sailed for New York, and life resumed its long forgotten happy + tenor in the Binnie cottage. Janet sang about her spotless houseplace, + feeling almost as if it was a new gift of God to her; and Christina + regarded their small and simple belongings with that tender and excessive + affection which we are apt to give to whatever has been all but lost and + then unexpectedly recovered. Both women involuntarily showed this feeling + in the extra care they took of everything. Never had the floors and chairs + and tables been scrubbed and rubbed to such spotless beauty; and every cup + and platter and small ornament was washed and dusted with such care as + could only spring from heart-felt gratitude in its possession. Naturally + they had much spare time, for as Janet said, ‘having no man to cook + and wash for lifted half the work from their hands,’ but they were + busy women for all that. Janet began a patch-work quilt of a wonderful + design as a wedding present for Christina; and as the whole village + contributed “pieces” for its construction, the whole village + felt an interest in its progress. It was a delightful excuse for Janet’s + resumption of her old friendly, gossipy ways; and every afternoon saw her + in some crony’s house, spreading out her work, and explaining her + design, and receiving the praises and sometimes the advice of her + acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + Christina also, quietly but yet hopefully, began again her preparations + for her marriage; for Janet laughed at her fears and doubts. “Andrew + was sure to find Jamie, and Jamie was sure to be glad to come home again. + It stands to reason,” she said confidently. “The very sight of + Andrew will be a cordial of gladness to him; for he will know, as soon as + he sees the face of him, that the brother will mean the sister and the + wedding ring. If you get the spindle and distaff ready, my lass, God is + sure to send the flax; and by the same token, if you get your plenishing + made and marked, and your bride-clothes finished, God will certainly send + the husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Jamie said in his last letter—the one in which he bid me + farewell—‘I will never come back to Scotland.’” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Toots! Havers!</i> ‘I <i>will</i>’ is for the Lord + God Almighty to say. A sailor-man’s ‘I will’ is just + breath, that any wind may blow away. When Andrew gives him the letter you + sent, Jamie will not be able to wait for the next boat for Scotland.” + </p> + <p> + “He may have taken a fancy to America and want to stop there.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about, Christina Binnie? There is nothing but + scant and want in them foreign countries. Oh! my lass, he will come home, + and be glad to come home; and you will have the hank in your own hand. See + that you spin it cannily and happily.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope Andrew will not make himself sick again looking for the + lost.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall have little pity for him, if he does. I told him to make + good days for himself; why not? He is about his duty; the law of kindness + is in his heart, and the purpose of putting right what he put wrong is the + wind that drives him. Well then, his journey—be it short or long—ought + to be a holiday to him, and a body does not deserve a holiday if he cannot + take advantage of one. Them were my last words to Andrew.” + </p> + <p> + “Jamie may have seen another lass. I have heard say the lassies in + America are gey bonnie.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll just be stepping if you have nothing but frets and fears + to say. When things go wrong, it is mostly because folks will have them + wrong and no other way.” + </p> + <p> + “In this world, Mother, the giffs and the gaffs—” + </p> + <p> + “In this world, Christina, the giffs and the gaffs generally balance + one another. And if they don’t,—mind what I say,—it is + because there is a moral defect on the failing side. Oh! but women are + flightersome and easy frighted.” + </p> + <p> + “Whyles you have fears yourself, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I am that foolish whyles; but I shall be a sick, weak body, + when I can’t outmarch the worst of them.” + </p> + <p> + “You are just an oracle, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Not I; but if I was a very saint, I would say every morning of my + life: ‘Now then, Soul, hope for good and have good.’ Many a + sad heart folks get they have no need to have. Take out your needle and + thimble and go to your wedding clothes, lassie; you will need them before + the summer is over. You may take my word for that.” + </p> + <p> + “If Jamie should still love me.” + </p> + <p> + “Love you! He will be that far gone in love with you that there will + be no help for him but standing up before the minister. That will be seen + and heard tell of. Lift your white seam, and be busy at it; there is + nothing else to do till tea time, and I am away for an hour or two to + Maggie Buchans. Her man went to Edinburgh this morning. What for, I don’t + know yet, but I’ll maybe find out.” + </p> + <p> + It was on this very afternoon that Janet first heard that there was + trouble and a sound of more trouble at Braelands. Sophy had driven down in + her carriage the previous day to see her cousin Isobel Murray, and some + old friends who had gone into Isobel’s had found the little Mistress + of Braelands weeping bitterly in her cousin’s arms. After this news + Janet did not stay long at Maggie Buchans; she carried her patch-work to + Isobel Murray’s, and as Isobel did not voluntarily name the subject, + Janet boldly introduced it herself. + </p> + <p> + “I heard tell that Sophy Braelands was here yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, she was.” + </p> + <p> + “A grand thing for you, Isobel, to have the Braelands’s yellow + coach and pair standing before the Murray cottage all of two or three + hours.” + </p> + <p> + “It did not stand before my cottage, Janet. The man went to the + public house and gave the horses a drink, and himself one too, or I am + much mistaken, for I had to send little Pete Galloway after him.” + </p> + <p> + “I think Sophy might have called on me.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt she would have done so, had she known that Andrew was + away, but I never thought to tell her until the last moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she well? I was hearing that she looked but poorly.” + </p> + <p> + “You were hearing the truth. She looks bad enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she happy, Isobel?” + </p> + <p> + “I never asked her that question.” + </p> + <p> + “You have eyes and observation. Didn’t you ask yourself that + question?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I did.” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to say anent it.” + </p> + <p> + “What was she talking about? You know, Isobel, that Sophy is kin of + mine, and I loved her mother like my own sister. So I be to feel anxious + about the little body. I’m feared things are not going as well as + they might do. Madame Braelands is but a hard-grained woman.” + </p> + <p> + “She is as cruel a woman and as bad a woman as there is between this + and wherever she may be.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t she at Braelands?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for a week or two. She’s away to Acker Castle, and her + son with her.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not Sophy also?” + </p> + <p> + “The poor lassie would not go—she says she could not. Well, + Janet, I may as good confess that there is something wrong that she does + not like to speak of yet. She is just at the crying point now, the reason + why and wherefore will come anon.” + </p> + <p> + “But she be to say something to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you. She said she was worn out with learning this + and that, and she was humbled to death to find out how ignorant and full + of faults she was. Madame Braelands is both schoolmistress and + mother-in-law, and there does not seem to be a minute of the day in which + the poor child isn’t checked and corrected. She has lost all her + pretty ways, and she says she cannot learn Madame’s ways; and she is + feared for herself, and shamed for herself. And when the invitation came + for Acker Castle, Madame told her she must not accept it for her husband’s + sake, because all his great friends were to be there, and they were to + discuss his going to Parliament, and she would only shame and disgrace + him. And you may well conceive that Sophy turned obstinate and said she + would bide in her own home. And, someway, her husband did not urge her to + go and this hurt her worst of all; and she felt lonely and broken-hearted, + and so came to see me. That is everything about it, but keep it to + yourself, Janet, it isn’t for common clash.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that. But did Madame Braelands and her son really go away + and leave Sophy her lone?” + </p> + <p> + “They left her with two or three teachers to worry the life out of + her. They went away two days ago; and Madame was in full feather and + glory, with her son at her beck and call, and all her grand airs and + manners about her. Sophy says she watched them away from her bedroom + window, and then she cried her heart out. And she couldn’t learn her + lessons, and so sent the man teacher and the woman teacher about their + business. She says she will not try the weary books again to please + anybody; they make her head ache so that she is like to swoon away.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophy was never fond of books; but I thought she would like the + music.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, if they would let her have her own way about it. She has her + father’s little fiddle, and when she was but a bare-footed lassie, + she played on it wonderful.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember. You would have thought there was a linnet living inside + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she wanted to have some lessons on it, and her husband was + willing enough, but Madame went into hysterics about the idea of anything + so vulgar. There is a constant bitter little quarrel between the two + women, and Sophy says she cannot go to her husband with every slight and + cruelty. Madame laughs at her, or pretends to pet her, or else gets into + passions at what she calls Sophy’s unreasonableness; and Archie + Braelands is weary to death of complaining, and just turns sulky or goes + out of the house. Oh, Janet, I can see and feel the bitter, cruel + task-woman over the poor, foolish child! She is killing her, and Archie + Braelands does not see the right and the wrong of it all.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll make him see it.” + </p> + <p> + “You will hold your tongue, Janet. They who stir in muddy water only + make it worse.” + </p> + <p> + “But Archie Braelands loved her, or he would not have married her; + and if he knew the right and the wrong of poor Sophy’s position—” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, that is nothing to it, Janet.” + </p> + <p> + “It is everything to it. Right is right, in the devil’s teeth.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry I said a word to you; it is a dangerous thing to + get between a man and his wife. I would not do it, not even for Sophy; for + reason here or reason there, folks be to take care of themselves; and my + man gets siller from Braelands, more than we can afford to lose.” + </p> + <p> + “You are taken with a fit of the prudentials, Isobel; and it is just + extraordinary how selfish they make folk.” + </p> + <p> + And yet Janet herself, when going over the conversation with Christina, + was quite inclined on second thoughts not to interfere in Sophy’s + affairs, though both were anxious and sorrowful about the motherless + little woman. + </p> + <p> + “She ought to be with her husband wherever he is, court or castle,” + said Christina. “She is a foolish woman to let him go away with her + enemy, and such a clever enemy as Madame Braelands is. I think, Mother, + you ought to call on Sophy, and give her a word of love and a bit of good + advice. Her mother was very close to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, Christina; but Isobel was right about the folly of coming + between a man and his wife. I would just get the wyte of it. Many a sore + heart I have had for meddling with what I could not mend.” + </p> + <p> + Yet Janet carried the lonely, sorrowful little wife on her heart + continually; though, after a week or two had passed and nothing new was + heard from Braelands, every one began to give their sympathy to Christina + and her affairs. Janet was ready to talk of them. There were some things + she wished to explain, though she was too proud to do so until her friends + felt interest enough to ask for explanations. And as soon as it was + discovered that Andrew had gone to America, the interest and curiosity was + sufficiently keen and eager to satisfy even Janet. + </p> + <p> + “It fairly took the breath from me,” said Sabrina Roy, “when + I was told the like of that. I cannot think there is a word of truth in + such a report.” + </p> + <p> + Mistress Roy was sitting at Janet’s fireside, and so had the + privilege of a guest; but, apart from this, it gave Janet a profound + satisfaction to answer: “Ay, well, Sabrina, the clash is true for + once in a lifetime. Andrew has gone to America, and the Lord knows where + else beside.” + </p> + <p> + “Preserve us all! I wouldn’t believe it, only from your own + lips, Janet. Whatever would be the matter that sent him stravaging round + the world, with no ship of his own beneath his feet or above his head?” + </p> + <p> + “A matter of right and wrong, Sabrina. My Andrew has a strict + conscience and a sense of right that would be ornamental in a very saint. + Not to make a long story of it, he and Jamie Logan had a quarrel. It was + the night Andrew took his inflammation, and it is very sure his brain was + on fire and off its judgment at the time. But we were none of us thinking + of the like of that; and so the bad words came, and stirred up the bad + blood, and if I hadn’t been there myself, there might have been + spilled blood to end all with, for they were both black angry.” + </p> + <p> + “Guide us, woman! What was it all about?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sabrina, it was about siller; that is all I am free to say. + Andrew was sure he was right, and Jamie was sure he was wrong; and they + were going fairly to one another’s throats, when I stepped in and + flung them apart.” + </p> + <p> + “And poor Christina had the buff and the buffet to take and to bear + for their tempers?” + </p> + <p> + “Not just that. Jamie begged her to go away with him, and the lassie + would have gone if I hadn’t got between her and the door. I had a + hard few minutes, I can tell you, Sabrina; for when men are beside + themselves with passion, they are in the devil’s employ, and it’s + no easy work to take a job out of <i>his</i> hands. But I sent Jamie + flying down the cliff, and I locked the door and put the key in my pocket, + and ordered Andrew and Christina off to their beds, and thought I would + leave the rest of the business till the next day; but before midnight + Andrew was raving, and the affair was out of my hands altogether.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a wonder Christina did not go after her lad.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about, Sabrina? It would have been a world’s + wonder and a black, burning shame if my girl had gone after her lad in + such a calamitous time. No, no, Christina Binnie isn’t the kind of + girl that shrinks in the wetting. When her time of trial came, she did the + whole of her duty, showing herself day by day a witness and a testimony to + her decent, kirk-going forefathers.” + </p> + <p> + “And so Andrew has found out he was wrong and Jamie Logan right?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, he has. And the very minute he did so, he made up his mind to + seek the lad far and near and confess his fault.” + </p> + <p> + “And bring him back to Christina?” + </p> + <p> + “Just so. What for not? He parted them, and he has the right and + duty to bring them together again, though it take the best years of his + life and the last bawbee of his money.” + </p> + <p> + “Folks were saying his money was all spent.” + </p> + <p> + “Folks are far wrong then. Andrew has all the money he ever had. + Andrew isn’t a bragger, and his money has been silent so far, but it + will speak ere long.” + </p> + <p> + “With money to the fore, you shouldn’t have been so scrimpit + with yourselves in such a time of work and trouble. Folks noticed it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe in wasting anything, Sabrina, even grief. I + did not spend a penny, nor a tear, nor a bit of strength, that was + useless. What for should I? And if folks noticed we were scrimpit, why + didn’t they think about helping us? No, thank God! We have enough + and a good bit to spare, for all that has come and gone, and if it pleases + the Maker of Happiness to bring Jamie Logan back again, we will have a + bridal that will make a monumental year in Pittendurie.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear tell o’ that. I never did approve of two or + three at a wedding. The more the merrier.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a very sound observe. My Christina will have a wedding to + be seen and heard tell of from one sacramental occasion to another.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, good luck to Andrew Binnie, and may he come soon home + and well home, and sorrow of all kinds keep a day’s sail behind him. + And surely he will go back to the boats when he has saved his conscience, + for there is never a better sailor and fisher on the North Sea. The men + were all saying that when he was so ill.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the very truth. Andrew can read the sea as well as the + minister can read the Book. He never turns his back on it; his boat is + always ready to kiss the wind in its teeth. I have been with him when <i>rip! + rip! rip</i>! went her canvas; but I hadn’t a single fear, I knew + the lad at the helm. I knew he would bring her to her bearings + beautifully. He always did, and then how the gallant bit of a creature + would shake herself and away like a sea-gull. My Andrew is a son of the + sea as all his forbears were. Its salt is in his blood, and when the tide + is going with a race and a roar, and the break of the waves and the howl + of the wind is like a thousand guns, then Andrew Binnie is in the element + he likes best; aye, though his boat be spinning round like a laddie’s + top.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Janet, I will be going.” + </p> + <p> + “Mind this, Sabrina, I have told you all to my heart’s keel; + and if folks are saying to you that Jamie has given Christina the slip, or + that the Binnies are scrimpit for poverty’s sake, or the like of any + other ill-natured thing, you will be knowing how to answer them.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Deed, I will! And I am real glad things are so well with you + all, Janet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and like to be better, thank God, as soon as Andrew gets back + from foreign parts.” + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Andrew, after a pleasant sail, had reached New York. He + made many friends on the ship, and in the few days of bad weather usually + encountered came to the front, as he always did when winds were blowing + and sailor-men had to wear oil skins. The first sight of the New World + made him silent. He was too prudent to hazard an opinion about any place + so remote and so strange, though he cautiously admitted “the lift + was as blue as in Scotland and the sunshine not to speak ill of.” + But as his ideas of large towns had been formed upon Edinburgh and + Glasgow, he could hardly admire New York. “It looks,” he said + to an acquaintance who was showing him the city, “it looks as if it + had been built in a hurry;” for he was thinking of the granite + streets and piers of Glasgow. “Besides,” he added, “there + is no romance or beauty about it; it is all straight lines and squares. + Man alive! you should see Edinburgh the sel of it, the castle, and the + links, and the bonnie terraces, and the Highland men parading the streets, + it is just a bit of poetry made out of builders stones.” + </p> + <p> + With the information he had received from the mate of the “Circassia,” + and his advice and directions, Andrew had little difficulty in locating + Jamie Logan. He found his name in the list of seamen sailing a steamer + between New York and New Orleans; and this steamer was then lying at her + pier on the North River. It was not very hard to obtain permission to + interview Jamie, and armed with this authority, he went to the ship one + very hot afternoon about four o’clock. + </p> + <p> + Jamie was at the hold, attending to the unshipping of cargo; and as he + lifted himself from the stooping attitude which his work demanded, he saw + Andrew Binnie approaching him. He pretended, however, not to see him, and + became suddenly very deeply interested in the removal of a certain case of + goods. Andrew was quite conscious of the affectation, but he did not blame + Jamie; it only made him the more anxious to atone for the wrong he had + done. He stepped rapidly forward, and with extended hands said:— + </p> + <p> + “Jamie Logan, I have come all the way from Scotland to ask you to + forgive me. I thought wrong of you, and I said wrong to you, and I am + sorry for it. Can you pass it by for Christ’s sake?” + </p> + <p> + Jamie looked into the speaker’s face, frankly and gravely, but with + the air of a man who has found something he thought lost. He took Andrew’s + hands in his own hands and answered:— + </p> + <p> + “Aye, I can forgive you with all my heart. I knew you would come to + yourself some day, Andrew; but it has seemed a long time waiting. I have + not a word against you now. A man that can come three thousand miles to + own up to a wrong is worth forgiving. How is Christina?” + </p> + <p> + “Christina is well, but tired-like with the care of me through my + long sickness. She has sent you a letter, and here it is. The poor lass + has suffered more than either of us; but never a word of complaining from + her. Jamie, I have promised her to bring you back with me. Can you come?” + </p> + <p> + “I will go back to Scotland with you gladly, if it can be managed. I + am fair sick for the soft gray skies, and the keen, salt wind of the North + Sea. Last Sabbath Day I was in New Orleans—fairly baking with the + heat of the place—and I thought I heard the kirk bells across the + sands, and saw Christina stepping down the cliff with the Book in her + hands and her sweet smile making all hearts but mine happy. Andrew man, I + could not keep the tears out of my een, and my heart was away down to my + feet, and I was fairly sick with longing.” + </p> + <p> + They left the ship together and spent the night in each other’s + company. Their room was a small one, in a small river-side hotel, hot and + close smelling; but the two men created their own atmosphere. For as they + talked of their old life, the clean, sharp breezes of Pittendurie swept + through the stifling room; they tasted the brine on the wind’s + wings, and felt the wet, firm sands under their feet. Or they talked of + the fishing boats, until they could see their sails bellying out, as they + lay down just enough to show they felt the fresh wind tossing the spray + from their bows and lifting themselves over the great waves as if they + stepped over them. + </p> + <p> + Before they slept, they had talked themselves into a fever of home + sickness, and the first work of the next day was to make arrangements for + Jamie’s release from his obligations. There was some delay and + difficulty about this matter, but it was finally completed to the + satisfaction of all parties, and Andrew and Jamie took the next Anchor + Line steamer for Glasgow. + </p> + <p> + On the voyage home, the two men got very close to each other, not in any + accidental mood of confidence, but out of a thoughtful and assured + conviction of respect. Andrew told Jamie all about his lost money and the + plans for his future which had been dependent on it, and Jamie said— + </p> + <p> + “No wonder you went off your health and senses with the thought of + your loss, Andrew I would have been less sensible than you. It was an + awful experience, man, I cannot tell how you tholed it at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I didn’t thole it, Jamie. I just broke down under it, + and God Almighty and my mother and sister had to carry me through the ill + time; but all is right now. I shall have the boat I was promised, and at + the long last be Captain Binnie of the Red-White Fleet. And what for + shouldn’t you take a berth with me? I shall have the choosing of my + officers, and we will strike hands together, if you like it, and you shall + be my second mate to start with.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like nothing better than to sail with you and under you, + Andrew. I couldn’t find a captain more to my liking.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I a better second mate. We both know our business, and we shall + manage it cleverly and brotherly.” + </p> + <p> + So Jamie’s future was settled before the men reached Pittendurie, + and the new arrangement well talked over, and Andrew and his proposed + brother-in-law were finger and thumb about it. This was a good thing for + Andrew, for his secretive, self-contained disposition was his weak point, + and had been the cause of all his sorrow and loss of time and suffering. + </p> + <p> + They had written a letter in New York and posted it the day they left, + advising Janet and Christina of the happy home-coming; but both men + forgot, or else did not know, that the letter came on the very same ship + with themselves, and might therefore or might not reach home before them. + It depended entirely on the postal authority in Pittendurie. If she + happened to be in a mood to sort the letters as soon as they arrived, and + then if she happened to see any one passing who could carry a letter to + Janet Binnie, the chances were that Janet would receive the intelligence + of her son’s arrival in time to make some preparation for it. + </p> + <p> + As it happened, these favourable circumstances occurred, and about four o’clock + one afternoon, as Janet was returning up the cliff from Isobel Murray’s, + she met little Tim Galloway with the letter in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “It is from America,” said the laddie, “and my mother + told me to hurry myself with it. Maybe there is folk coming after it.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll give you a bawbee for the sense of your words, Tim,” + answered Janet; and she hastened herself and flung the letter into + Christina’s lap, saying:— + </p> + <p> + “Open it, lassie, it will be full of good news. I shouldn’t + wonder if both lads were on their way home again.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, Mother, they <i>are</i> home; they will be here anon, they + will be here this very night. Oh, Mother, I must put on my best gown and + my gold ear-rings and brush my hair, and you’ll be setting forward + the tea and making a white pudding; for Jamie, you know, was always saying + none but you could mix the meal and salt and pepper, and toast it as it + should be done.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall look after the men’s eating, Christina, and you make + yourself as braw as you like to. Jamie has been long away, and he must + have a full welcome home again.” + </p> + <p> + They were both as excited as two happy children; perhaps Janet was most + evidently so, for she had never lost her child-heart, and everything + pleasant that happened was a joy and a wonder to her. She took out her + best damask table-cloth, and opened her bride chest for the real china + kept there so carefully; and she made the white pudding with her own + hands, and ran down the cliff for fresh fish and the lamb chops which were + Andrew’s special luxury. And Christina made the curds and cream, and + swept the hearth, and set the door wide open for the home-comers. + </p> + <p> + And as good fortune comes where it is looked for, Andrew and Jamie entered + the cottage just as everything was ready for them. There was no waiting, + no cooled welcome, no spoiled dainties, no disappointment of any kind. + Life was taken up where it had been most pleasantly dropped; all the + interval of doubt and suffering was put out of remembrance, and when the + joyful meal had been eaten, as Janet washed her cups and saucers and + tidied her house, they talked of the happy future before them. + </p> + <p> + “And I’ll tell you what, bairnies,” said the dear old + woman as she stood folding her real china in the tissue paper devoted to + that purpose, “I’ll tell you what, bairnies, good will asks + for good deeds, and I’ll show my good will by giving Christina the + acre of land next my own. If Jamie is to go with you, Andrew, and your + home is to be with me, lad—” + </p> + <p> + “Where else would it be, Mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, where else need Jamie’s home be but in + Pittendurie? I’ll give the land for his house, and what will you do, + Andrew? Speak for your best self, my lad.” + </p> + <p> + “I will give my sister Christina one hundred gold sovereigns and the + silk wedding-gown I promised her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Andrew, my dear brother, how will I ever thank you as I ought + to?” + </p> + <p> + “I owe you more, Christina, than I can count.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Andrew,” said Janet. “What has Christina done + that siller can pay for? You can’t buy love with money, and gold isn’t + in exchange for it. Your gift is a good-will gift. It isn’t a paid + debt, God be thanked!” + </p> + <p> + The very next day the little family went into Largo, and the acre was + legally transferred, and Jamie made arrangements for the building of his + cottage. But the marriage did not wait on the building; it was delayed no + longer than was necessary for the making of the silk wedding-gown. This + office Griselda Kilgour undertook with much readiness and an entire + oblivion of Janet’s unadvised allusions to her age. And more than + this, Griselda dressed the bride with her own hands, adding to her costume + a bonnet of white tulle and orange blossoms that was the admiration of the + whole village, and which certainly had a bewitching effect above Christina’s + waving black hair, and shining eyes, and marvellous colouring. + </p> + <p> + And, as Janet desired, the wedding was a holiday for the whole of + Pittendurie. Old and young were bid to it, and for two days the dance, the + feast, and the song went gayly on, and for two days not a single fishing + boat left the little port of Pittendurie. Then the men went out to sea + again, and the women paid their bride visits, and the children finished + all the dainties that were else like to be wasted, and life gradually + settled back into its usual grooves. + </p> + <p> + But though Jamie went to the fishing, pending Andrew’s appointment + to his steamboat, Janet and Christina had a never-ceasing interest in the + building and plenishing of Christina’s new home. It was not + fashionable, nor indeed hardly permissible, for any one to build a house + on a plan grander than the traditional fisher cottage; but Christina’s, + though no larger than her neighbours’, had the modern convenience of + many little closets and presses, and these Janet filled with homespun + napery, linseys, and patch-work, so that never a young lass in Pittendurie + began life under such full and happy circumstances. + </p> + <p> + In the fall of the year the new fire was lit on the new hearth, and + Christina moved into her own home. It was only divided from her mother’s + by a strip of garden and a low fence, and the two women could stand in + their open doors and talk to each other. And during the summer all had + gone well. Jamie had been fortunate and made money, and Andrew had + perfected all his arrangements, so that one morning in early September, + the whole village saw “The Falcon” come to anchor in the bay, + and Captain Binnie, in his gold-buttoned coat and gold-banded cap, take + his place on her bridge, with Jamie, less conspicuously attired, attending + him. + </p> + <p> + It was a proud day for Janet and Christina, though Janet, guided by some + fine instinct, remained in her own home, and made no afternoon calls. + “I don’t want to force folk to say either kind or unkind + things to me,” she said to her daughter. “You know, Christina, + it is a deal harder to rejoice with them that rejoice than to weep with + them that weep. Sabrina Roy, as soon as she got her eyes on Andrew in his + trimmings, perfectly changed colours with envy; and we have been a + speculation to far and near, more than one body saying we were going + fairly to the mischief with out extravagance. They thought poverty had us + under her black thumb, and they did not think of the hand of God, which + was our surety.” + </p> + <p> + However, that afternoon Janet had a great many callers, and not a few came + up the cliff out of real kindness, for, doubt as we will, there is a + constant inflowing of God into human affairs. And Janet, in her heart, did + not doubt her neighbours readily; she took the homage rendered in a very + pleased and gracious manner, and she made a cup of tea and a little feast + for her company, and the clash and clatter in the Binnie cottage that + afternoon was exceedingly full of good wishes and compliments. Indeed, as + Janet reviewed them afterwards, they provoked from her a broad smile, and + she said with a touch of good-natured criticism:— + </p> + <p> + “If we could make compliments into silk gowns, Christina, you and I + would be bonnily clad for the rest of our lives. Nobody said a nattering + word but poor Bella McLean, and she has been soured and sore kept down in + the world by a ne’er-do-weel of a husband.” + </p> + <p> + “She should try and guide him better,” said Christina. “If + he was my man, I would put him through his facings.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Toots</i>, Christina. You are over young in the marriage state + to offer opinions about men folk. As far as I can see, every woman can + guide a bad husband but the poor soul that has the ill-luck to have one. + Open the Book now, and let us thank God for the good day He has given us.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. — “TAKE ME IN TO DIE!” + </h2> + <p> + After this, the pleasant months went by with nothing but Andrew’s + and Jamie’s visits to mark them, and, every now and then, a sough of + sorrow from the big house of Braelands. And now that her own girl was so + happily settled, Janet began to have a longing anxiety about poor Sophy. + She heard all kinds of evil reports concerning the relations between her + and her husband, and twice during the winter there was a rumour, hardly + hushed up, of a separation between them. + </p> + <p> + Isobel Murray, to whom at first Sophy turned in her sorrow, had not + responded to any later confidences. “My man told me to neither + listen nor speak against Archie Braelands,” she said to Janet. + “We have our own boat to guide, and Sophy cannot be a friend to us; + while it is very sure Braelands can be an enemy beyond our ‘don’t + care.’ Six little lads and lassies made folk mind their own + business. And I’m no very sure but what Sophy’s troubles are + Sophy’s own making. At any rate, she isn’t faultless; you be + to have both flint and stone to strike fire.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll not hear you say the like of that, Isobel. Sophy may be + misguided and unwise, but there is not a wrong thought in her heart. The + bit vanity of the young thing was her only fault, and I’m thinking + she has paid sorely for it.” + </p> + <p> + All winter, such vague and miserable bits of gossip found their way into + the fishing village, and one morning in the following spring, Janet met a + young girl who frequently went to Braelands House with fresh fish. She was + then on her way home from such an errand, and Janet fancied there was a + look of unusual emotion on her broad, stolid face. + </p> + <p> + “Maggie-Ann,” she said, stopping her, “where have you + been this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Up to Braelands.” “And what did you see or hear tell + of?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw nothing; but I heard more than I liked to hear.” + </p> + <p> + “About Mistress Braelands? You know, Maggie-Ann, that she is my own + flesh and blood, and I be to feel her wrongs my wrongs.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, Janet There had been a big stir, and you could feel it in + the very air of the house. The servants were feared to speak or to step, + and when the door opened, the sound of angry words and of somebody crying + was plain to be heard. Jean Craigie, the cook, told me it was about the + Dower House. The mistress wants to get away from her mother-in-law, and + she had been begging her husband to go and live in the Dower House with + her, since Madame would not leave them their own place.” + </p> + <p> + “She is right,” answered Janet boldly. “I wouldn’t + live with that fine old sinner myself, and I think there are few women in + Fife I couldn’t talk back to if I wanted. Sophy ought never to have + bided with her for a day. They have no business under the same roof. A + baby and a popish inquisitor would be as well matched.” + </p> + <p> + It had, indeed, come at last to Sophy’s positive refusal to live + longer with her mother-in-law. In a hundred ways the young wife felt her + inability to cope with a woman so wise and so wicked, and she had finally + begun to entreat Archie to take her away from Braelands. The man was in a + strait which could end only in anger. He was completely under his mother’s + influence, while Sophy’s influence had been gradually weakened by + Madame’s innuendos and complaints, her pity for Archie, and her + tattle of visitors. These things were bad enough; but Sophy’s worst + failures came from within herself. She had been snubbed and laughed at, + scolded and corrected, until she had lost all spontaneity and all the + grace and charm of her natural manner. This condition would not have been + so readily brought about, had she retained her health and her flower-like + beauty. But after the birth of her child she faded slowly away. She had + not the strength for a constant, never-resting assertion of her rights, + and nothing less would have availed her; nor had she the metal brightness + to expose or circumvent the false and foolish positions in which Madame + habitually placed her. + </p> + <p> + Little by little, the facts of the unhappy case leaked out, and were + warmly commented on by the fisher-families with whom Sophy was connected + either by blood or friendship. Her father’s shipmates were many of + them living and she had cousins of every degree among the nets—men + and women who did not forget the motherless, fatherless lassie who had + played with their own children. These people made Archie feel their + antagonism. They would neither take his money, nor give him their votes, + nor lift their bonnets to his greeting. And though such honest, primitive + feelings were proper enough, they did not help Sophy. On the contrary, + they strengthened Madame’s continual assertion that her son’s + marriage had ruined his public career and political prospects. Still there + is nothing more wonderful than the tugs and twists the marriage tie will + bear. There were still days in which Archie—either from love, or + pity, or contradiction, or perhaps from a sense of simple justice—took + his wife’s part so positively that Madame must have been discouraged + if she had been a less understanding woman. As it was, she only smiled at + such fitful affection, and laid her plans a little more carefully. And as + the devil strengthens the hands of those who do his work, Madame received + a potent reinforcement in the return home of her nearest neighbour, Miss + Marion Glamis. As a girl, she had been Archie’s friend and playmate; + then she had been sent to Paris for her education, and afterwards + travelled extensively with her father who was a man of very comfortable + fortune. Marion herself had a private income, and Madame had been + accustomed to believe that when Archie married, he would choose Marion + Glamis for his wife. + </p> + <p> + She was a tall, high-coloured, rather mannish-looking girl, handsome in + form, witty in speech, and disposed towards field sports of every kind. + She disliked Sophy on sight, and Madame perceived it, and easily worked on + the girl’s worst feelings. Besides, Marion had no lover at the time, + and she had come home with the idea of Archie Braelands tilling such + imagination as she possessed. To find herself supplanted by a girl of low + birth, “without a single advantage” as she said frankly to + Archie’s mother, provoked and humiliated her. “She has not + beauty, nor grace, nor wit, nor money, nor any earthly thing to recommend + her to Archie’s notice. Was the man under a spell?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed she had a kind of beauty and grace when Archie married her,” + answered Madame; “I must admit that. But bringing her to Braelands + was like transplanting a hedge flower into a hot-house. She has just + wilted ever since.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she been noticed by Archie’s friends at all?” + </p> + <p> + “I have taken good care she did not see much of Archie’s + friends, and her ill health has been a splendid excuse for her seclusion. + Yet it was strange how much the few people she met admired her. Lady Blair + goes into italics every time she comes here about ‘The Beauty’, + and the Bells, and Curries, and Cupars, have done their best to get her to + visit them. I knew better than permit such folly. She would have told all + sorts of things, and raised the country-side against me; though, really, + no one will ever know what I have gone through in my efforts to lick the + cub into shape!” + </p> + <p> + Marion laughed, and, Archie coming in at that moment, she launched all her + high spirits and catches and witticisms at him. Her brilliancy and colour + and style were very effective, and there was a sentimental remembrance for + the foundation of a flirtation which Marion very cleverly took advantage + of, and which Archie was not inclined to deny. His life was monotonous, he + was ennuye, and this bold, bright incarnation, with her half disguised + admiration for himself, was an irresistible new interest. + </p> + <p> + So their intimacy soon became frequent and friendly. There were horseback + rides together in the mornings, sails in the afternoons, and duets on the + piano in the evenings. Then her Parisian toilets made poor Sophy’s + Largo dresses look funnily dowdy, and her sharp questions and affected + ignorances of Sophy’s meanings and answers were cleverly aided by + Madame’s cold silences, lifted brows, and hopeless acceptance of + such an outside barbarian. Long before a dinner was over, Sophy had been + driven into silence, and it was perhaps impossible for her to avoid an air + of offence and injury, so that Marion had the charming in her own hands. + After dinner, Admiral Glamis and Madame usually played a game of chess, + and Archie sang or played duets with Marion, while Sophy, sitting sadly + unnoticed and unemployed, watched her husband give to his companion such + smiles and careful attentions as he had used to win her own heart. + </p> + <p> + What regrets and fears and feelings of wrong troubled her heart during + these unhappy summer evenings, God only knew. Sometimes her presence + seemed to be intolerable to Madame, who would turn to her and say sharply: + “You are worn out, Sophy, and it is hardly fair to impose your + weariness and low spirits on us. Had you not better go to your room?” + Occasionally, Sophy refused to notice this covert order, and she fancied + that there was generally a passing expression of pleasure on her husband’s + face at her rebellion. More frequently, she was glad to escape the slow, + long torture, and she would rise, and go through the formality of shaking + hands with each person and bidding each “good-night” ere she + left the room. “Fisher manners,” Madame would whisper + impatiently to Marion. “I cannot teach her a decent effacement of + her personality.” For this little ceremony always ended in Archie’s + escorting her upstairs, and so far he had never neglected this formal + deference due his wife. Sometimes too he came back from the duty very + distrait and unhappy-looking, a circumstance always noted by Madame with + anger and scorn. + </p> + <p> + To such a situation, any tragedy was a possible culmination, and day by + day there was a more reckless abuse of its opportunities. Madame, when + alone with Sophy, did not now scruple to regret openly the fact that + Marion was not her daughter-in-law, and if Marion happened to be present, + she gave way to her disappointment in such ejaculations as— + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Marion Glamis, why did you stay away so long? Why did you not + come home before Archie’s life was ruined?” And the girl would + sigh and answer: “Is not my life ruined also? Could any one have + imagined Archie Braelands would have an attack of insanity?” Then + Sophy, feeling her impotence between the tongues of her two enemies, would + rise and go away, more or less angrily or sadly, followed through the hall + and half-way upstairs by the snickering, confidential laughter of their + common ridicule. + </p> + <p> + At the latter end of June, Admiral Glamis proposed an expedition to + Norway. They were to hire a yacht, select a merry party, and spend July + and August sailing and fishing in the cool fiords of that picturesque + land. Archie took charge of all the arrangements. He secured a yacht, and + posted a notice in the Public House of Pittendurie for men to sail her. He + had no doubt of any number of applications; for the work was light and + pleasant, and much better paid than any fishing-job. But not a man + presented himself, and not even when Archie sought out the best sailors + and those accustomed to the cross seas between Scotland and Norway, could + he induce any one to take charge of the yacht and man her. The Admiral’s + astonishment at Archie’s lack of influence among his own neighbours + and tenants was not very pleasant to bear, and Marion openly said:— + </p> + <p> + “They are making cause with your wife, Archie, against you. They + imagine themselves very loyal and unselfish. Fools! a few extra sovereigns + would be much better.” + </p> + <p> + “But why make cause for my wife against me, Marion?” asked + Archie. + </p> + <p> + “You know best; ask Madame, she is my authority,” and she + shrugged her shoulders and went laughing from his side. + </p> + <p> + Nothing in all his married life had so annoyed Archie as this dour + displeasure of men who had always before been glad to serve him. Madame + was indignant, sorrowful, anxious, everything else that could further + irritate her angry son; and poor Sophy might well have prayed in those + days “deliver me from my friends!” But at length the yacht was + ready for sea, and Archie ran upstairs in the middle of one hot afternoon + to bid his wife “goodbye!” + </p> + <p> + She was resting on her bed, and he never forgot the eager, wistful, + longing look of the wasted white face on the white pillow. He told her to + take care of herself for his sake. He told her not to let any one worry or + annoy her. He kissed her tenderly, and then, after he had closed the door, + he came back and kissed her again; and there were days coming in which it + was some comfort to him to remember this trifling kindness. + </p> + <p> + “You will not forget me, Archie?” she asked sadly. + </p> + <p> + “I will not, sweetheart,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “You will write me a letter when you can, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “I will be sure to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “You—you—you will love me best of all?” + </p> + <p> + “How can I help it? Don’t cry now. Send me away with a smile.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear. I will try and be happy, and try and get well.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry you cannot go with us, Sophy.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry too, Archie; but I could not bear the knocking about, + and the noise and bustle, and the merry-making. I should only spoil your + pleasure. I wouldn’t like to do that, dear. Good-bye, and good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + For a few minutes he was very miserable. A sense of shame came over him. + He felt that he was unkind, selfish, and quite unworthy of the tender love + given him. But in half an hour he was out at sea, Marion was at his side, + the Admiral was consulting him about the cooling of the dinner wines, the + skipper was promising them a lively sail with a fair wind—and the + white, loving face went out of his memory, and out of his consideration. + </p> + <p> + Yet while he was sipping wine and singing songs with Marion Glamis, and + looking with admiration into her rosy, glowing face, Sophy was suffering + all the slings and arrows of Madame’s outrageous hatred. She + complained all dinner-time, even while the servants were present, of the + deprivation she had to endure for Sophy’s sake. The fact was she had + not been invited to join the yachting-party, two very desirable ladies + having refused to spend two months in her society. But she ignored this + fact, and insisted on the fiction that she had been compelled to remain at + home to look after Sophy. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you had gone! Oh, I wish you had gone and left me in peace!” + cried the poor wife at last in a passion. “I could have been happy + if I had been left to myself.” + </p> + <p> + “And your low relations! You have made mischief enough with them for + Archie, poor fellow! Don’t tell me that you make no complaints. The + shameful behaviour of those vulgar fishermen, refusing to sail a yacht for + Braelands, is proof positive of your underhand ways.” + </p> + <p> + “My relations are not low. They would scorn to do the low, cruel, + wicked things some people who call themselves ‘high born’ do + all the time. But low or high, they are mine, and while Archie is away, I + intend to see them as often as I can.” + </p> + <p> + This little bit of rebellion was the one thing in which she could show + herself Mistress of Braelands; for she knew that she could rely on Thomas + to bring the carriage to her order. So the next morning she went very + early to call on Griselda Kilgour. Griselda had not seen her niece for + some time, and she was shocked at the change in her appearance, indeed, + she could hardly refrain the exclamations of pity and fear that flew to + her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Send the carriage to the <i>Queens Arms</i>,” she said, + “and stay with me all day, Sophy, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Aunt, I am tired enough. Let me lie down on the sofa, + and take off my bonnet and cloak. My clothes are just a weight and a + weariness.” + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t you well, dearie?” + </p> + <p> + “I must be sick someway, I think. I can’t sleep, and I can’t + eat; and I am that weak I haven’t the strength or spirit to say a + word back to Madame, however ill her words are to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard that Braelands had gone away?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, for two months.” + </p> + <p> + “With the Glamis crowd?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you go too?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn’t thole the sail, nor the company.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you like Miss Glamis?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m feared I hate her. Oh! Aunt, she makes love to Archie + before my very eyes, and Madame tells me morning, noon, and night, that + she was his first love and ought to have married him.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t stand the like of that. But Archie is not changed + to you, dearie?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say he is; but what man can be aye with a fond woman, + bright and bonnie, and not think of her as he shouldn’t think? I’m + not blaming Archie much. It is Madame and Miss Glamis, and above all my + own shortcomings. I can’t talk, I can’t dress, I can’t + walk, nor in any way act, as that set of women do. I am like a fish out of + its element. It is bonnie enough in the water; but it only flops and dies + if you take it out of the water and put it on the dry land. I wish I had + never seen Archie Braelands! If I hadn’t, I would have married + Andrew Binnie, and been happy and well enough.” + </p> + <p> + “You were hearing that he is now Captain Binnie of the Red-White + Fleet?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, I heard. Madame was reading about it in the Largo paper. + Andrew is a good man, Aunt. I am glad of his good luck.” + </p> + <p> + “Christina is well married too. You were hearing of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye; but tell me all about it.” + </p> + <p> + So Griselda entered into a narration which lasted until Sophy slipped into + a deep slumber. And whether it was simply the slumber of utter exhaustion, + or whether it was the sweet oblivion which results from a sense of peace + long denied, or perhaps the union of both these conditions, the result was + that she lay wrapped in an almost lethargic sleep for many hours. Twice + Thomas came with the carriage, and twice Griselda sent him away. And the + man shook his head sadly and said:— + </p> + <p> + “Let her alone; I wouldn’t be the one to wake her up for all + my place is worth. It may be a health sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, it may be,” answered Griselda, “but I have heard + old folk say that such black, deep sleep is sent to fit the soul for some + calamity lying in wait for it. It won’t be lucky to wake her anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “No, and I am thinking nothing worse can come to the little mistress + than the sorrow she is tholing now. I’ll be back in an hour, Miss + Kilgour.” + </p> + <p> + Thus it happened that it was late in the afternoon when Sophy returned to + her home, and her rest had so refreshed her that she was more than usually + able to hold her own with Madame. Many unpardonable words were said on + both sides; and the quarrel, thus early inaugurated, raged from day + to-day, either in open recrimination, or in a still more distressing + interference with all Sophy’s personal desires and occupations. The + servants were, in a measure, compelled to take part in the unnatural + quarrel; and before three weeks were over, Sophy’s condition was one + of such abnormal excitement that she was hardly any longer accountable for + her actions. The final blow was struck while she was so little able to + bear it. A letter from Archie, posted in Christiania and addressed to his + wife, came one morning. As Sophy was never able to come down to breakfast, + Madame at once appropriated the letter. When she had read it and finished + her breakfast, she went to Sophy’s room. + </p> + <p> + “I have had a letter from Archie,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Was there none for me?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I thought you might like to know that Archie says he never + was so happy in all his life. The Admiral, and Marion, and he, are in + Christiania for a week or two, and enjoying themselves every minute of the + time. Dear Marion! <i>She</i> knows how to make Archie happy. It is a + great shame I could not be with them.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there any message for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word. I suppose Archie knew I should tell you all that it was + necessary for you to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Please go away; I want to go to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “You want to cry. You do nothing but sleep and cry, and cry and + sleep; no wonder you have tired Archie’s patience out.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not tired Archie out. Oh, I wish he was here! I wish he was + here!” + </p> + <p> + “He will be back in five or six weeks, unless Marion persuades him + to go to the Mediterranean—and, as the Admiral is so fond of the + sea, that move is not unlikely.” + </p> + <p> + “Please go away.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be only too happy to do so.” + </p> + <p> + Now it happened that the footman, in taking in the mail, had noticed the + letter for Sophy, and commented on it in the kitchen; and every servant in + the house had been glad for the joy it would bring to the lonely, sick + woman. So there was nothing remarkable in her maid saying, as she dressed + her mistress:— + </p> + <p> + “I hope Mr. Braelands is well; and though I say it as perhaps I + shouldn’t say it, we was all pleased at your getting Master’s + letter this morning. We all hope it will make you feel brighter and + stronger, I’m sure.” + </p> + <p> + “The letter was Madame’s letter, not mine, Leslie.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, it was not, ma’am. Alexander said himself, and I + heard him, there is a long letter for Mrs. Archibald this morning,’ + and we were all that pleased as never was.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure, Leslie?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Go down-stairs and ask Alexander.” + </p> + <p> + Leslie went and came back immediately with Alexander’s positive + assertion that the letter was directed to <i>Mrs. Archibald Braelands,</i> + Sophy made no answer, but there was a swift and remarkable change in her + appearance and manner. She put her physical weakness out of her + consideration, and with a flush on her cheeks and a flashing light in her + eyes, she went down to the parlour. Madame had a caller with her, a lady + of not very decided position, who was therefore eager to please her + patron; but Sophy was beyond all regard for such conventionalities as she + had been ordered to observe. She took no notice of the visitor, but going + straight to Madame, she said:— + </p> + <p> + “You took my letter this morning. You had no right to take it; you + had no right to read it; you had no right to make up lies from it and come + to my bedside with them. Give me my letter.” + </p> + <p> + Madame turned to her visitor. “You see this impossible creature!” + she cried. “She demands from me a letter that never came.” + “It did come. You have my letter. Give it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Sophy, go to your room. You are not in a fit state to see + any one.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me my letter. At least, let me see the letter that came.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall do nothing of the kind. If you choose to suspect me, you + must do so. Can I make your husband write to you?” + </p> + <p> + “He did write to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Stirling, do you wonder now at my son’s running away + from his home?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I am fairly astonished at what I see and hear.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophy, you foolish woman, do not make any greater exhibit of + yourself that you have done. For heaven’s sake, go to your own room. + I have only my own letter, and I told you all of importance in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Every servant in the house knows that the letter was mine.” + </p> + <p> + “What the servants know is nothing to me. Now, Sophy, I will stand + no more of this; either you leave the room, or Mrs. Stirling and I will do + so. Remember that you have betrayed yourself. I am not to blame.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Madame?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that you may have hallucinations, but that you need not + exhibit them to the world. For my son’s sake, I demand that you go + to your room.” + </p> + <p> + “I want my letter. For God’s sake, have pity on me, and give + me my letter!” + </p> + <p> + Madame did not answer, but she took her friend by the arm and they left + the room together. In the hall Madame saw a servant, and she said blandly— + </p> + <p> + “Go and tell Leslie to look after her mistress, she is in the + parlour. And you may also tell Leslie that if she allows her to come down + again in her present mood, she will be dismissed.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor thing!” said Mrs. Stirling. “You must have your + hands full with her, Madame. Nobody had any idea of such a tragedy as this + though I must say I have heard many wonder about the lady’s + seclusion.” + </p> + <p> + “You see the necessity for it. However, we do not wish any talk on + the subject.” + </p> + <p> + Slowly it came to Sophy’s comprehension that she had been treated + like an insane woman, and her anger, though quiet, was of that kind that + means action of some sort. She went to her room, but it was only to recall + the wrong upon wrong, the insult upon insult she had received. + </p> + <p> + “I will go away from it all,” she said. “I will go away + until Archie returns. I will not sleep another night under the same roof + with that wicked woman. I will stay away till I die, ere I will do it.” + </p> + <p> + Usually she had little strength for much movement, but at this hour she + felt no physical weakness. She made Leslie bring her a street costume of + brown cloth, and she carefully put into her purse all the money she had. + Then she ordered the carriage and rode as far as her aunt Kilgour’s. + “Come for me in an hour, Thomas,” she said, and then she + entered the shop. + </p> + <p> + “Aunt, I am come back to you. Will you let me stay with you till + Archie gets home? I can bide yon dreadful old woman no longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Meaning Madame Braelands?” + </p> + <p> + “She is just beyond all things. This morning she has kept a letter + that Archie wrote me; and she has told me a lot of lies in its place. I’m + not able to thole her another hour.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what, Sophy, Madame was here since I saw you, + and she says you are neither to be guided nor endured I don’t know + who to believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! aunt, aunt, you know well I wouldn’t tell you a lie. I am + so miserable! For God’s sake, take me in!” + </p> + <p> + “I’d like to, Sophy, but I’m not free to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re putting Madame’s bit of siller and the work she’s + promised you from the Glamis girl before my heart-break. Oh, how can you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sophy, you have lived with me, and I saw you often dissatisfied and + unreasonable for nothing at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I was a bit foolish lassie then. I am a poor, miserable, sick woman + now.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no need to be poor, and miserable, and sick. I won’t + encourage you to run away from your home and your duty. At any rate, bide + where you are till your husband comes back. I would be wicked to give you + any other advice.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that you won’t let me come and stay with you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I won’t. I would be your worst enemy if I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Then good-bye. You will maybe be sorry some day for the ‘No’ + you have just said.” + </p> + <p> + She went slowly out of the store, and Griselda was very unhappy, and + called to her to come back and wait for her carriage. She did not heed or + answer, but walked with evident purpose down a certain street. It led her + to the railway station, and she went in and took a ticket for Edinburgh. + She had hardly done so when the train came thundering into the station, + she stepped into it, and in a few minutes was flying at express rate to + her destination. She had relatives in Edinburgh, and she thought she knew + their dwelling place, having called on them with her Aunt Kilgour when + they were in that city, just previous to her marriage. But she found that + they had removed, and no one in the vicinity knew to what quarter of the + town. She was too tired to pursue inquiries, or even to think any more + that day, and she went to a hotel and tried to rest and sleep. In the + morning she remembered that her mother’s cousin, Jane Anderson, + lived in Glasgow at some number in Monteith Row. The Row was not a long + one, even if she had to go from house to house to find her relative. So + she determined to go on to Glasgow. + </p> + <p> + She felt ill, strangely ill; she was in a burning fever and did not know + it. Yet she managed to get into the proper train, and to retain her + consciousness for sometime afterwards, ere she succumbed to the inevitable + consequences of her condition. Before the train reached its destination, + however, she was in a desperate state, and the first action of the guard + was to call a carriage and send her to a hospital. + </p> + <p> + After this kindness had been done, Sophy was dead to herself and the world + for nearly three weeks. She remembered nothing, she knew nothing, she + spoke only in the most disconnected and puzzling manner. For her speech + wandered between the homely fisher life of her childhood and the splendid + social life of Braelands. Her personality was equally perplexing. The + clothing she wore was of the finest quality; her rings, and brooch, and + jewelled watch, indicated wealth and station; yet her speech, especially + during the fever, was that of the people, and as she began to help + herself, she had little natural actions that showed the want of early + polite breeding. No letter or card, no name or address of any kind, was + found on her person; she appeared to be as absolutely lost as a stone + dropped into the deep sea. + </p> + <p> + And when she came to herself and realised where she was, and found out + from her attendant the circumstances under which she had been brought to + the hospital, she was still more reticent. For her first thought related + to the annoyance Archie would feel at her detention in a public hospital; + her second, to the unmerciful use Madame would make of the circumstance. + She could not reason very clearly, but her idea was to find her cousin and + gain her protection, and then, from that more respectable covett, to write + to her husband. She might admit her illness—indeed, she would be + almost compelled to do that, for she had fallen away so much, and had had + her hair cut short during the height of the fever—but Archie and + Madame must not know that she had been in a public hospital. For + fisher-people have a singular dislike to public charity of any kind; they + help one another. And, to Sophy’s intelligence, the hospital episode + was a disgrace that not even her insensibility could quite excuse. + </p> + <p> + Several weeks passed in that long, spotless, white room full of suffering, + before Sophy was able to stand upon her feet, before indeed she began to + realise the passage of time, and the consequences which must have followed + her long absence and silence. But all her efforts at writing were + failures. The thought she wished to express slipped off into darkness as + soon as she tried to write it; her vision failed her, her hands failed + her; she could only sink back upon her pillow and lie inert and almost + indifferent for hours afterwards. And as the one letter she wished to + write was to Archie, she could not depute it to any one else. Besides, the + nurse would tell <i>where</i> she was, and that was a circumstance she + must at all hazards keep to herself. It had been hot July weather when she + was first placed on her hard, weary bed of suffering, it was the end of + September when she was able to leave the hospital. Her purse with its few + sovereigns in it was returned to her, and the doctor told her kindly, if + she had any friends in the world, to go at once to their care. + </p> + <p> + “You have talked a great deal of the sea and the boats,” he + said; “get close to the sea if you can; it is perhaps the best and + the only thing for you.” + </p> + <p> + She thanked him and answered: “I am going to the Fife coast. I have + friends there, I think.” She put out a little wasted hand, and he + clasped it with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “So young, so pretty, so good,” he said to the nurse, as they + stood watching her walk very feebly and unsteadily away. + </p> + <p> + “I will give her three months at the longest, if she has love and + care. I will give her three weeks—nay, I will say three days, if she + has to care for herself, or if any particular trouble come to her.” + </p> + <p> + Then they turned from the window, and Sophy hired a cab and went to + Monteith Row to try and find her friends. She wanted to write to her + husband and ask him to come for her. She thought she could do this best + from her cousin’s home. “I will give her a bonnie ring or two, + and I will tell her the whole truth, and she will be sure to stand by me, + for there is nothing wrong to stand by, and blood is aye thicker than + water.” And then her thoughts wandered on to a contingency that + brought a flush of pain to her cheeks. “Besides, maybe Archie might + have an ill thought put into his head, and then the doctors and nurses in + the hospital could tell him what would make all clear.” She went + through many of the houses, inquiring for Ellen Montgomery, but could not + find her, and she was finally obliged to go to a hotel and rest. “I + will take the lave of the houses in the morning,” she thought, + “it is aye the last thing that is the right thing; everybody finds + that out.” + </p> + <p> + That evening, however, something happened which changed all her ideas and + intentions. She went into the hotel parlour and sat down; there were some + newspapers on the table, and she lifted one. It was an Edinburgh paper, + but the first words her eyes fell on was her husband’s name. Her + heart leaped up at the sight of it, and she read the paragraph. Then the + paper dropped from her hands. She felt that she was going to faint, and by + a supreme effort of will she recalled her senses and compelled them to + stay and suffer with her. Again, and then again, she read the paragraph, + unable at first to believe what she did read, for it was a notice, signed + by her husband, advising the world in general that she had voluntarily + left his home, and that he would no longer be responsible for any debt she + might contract in his name. To her childlike, ignorant nature, this public + exposure of her was a final act. She felt that it was all the same as a + decree of divorce. “Archie had cast her off; Madame had at last + parted them.” For an hour she sat still in a very stupour of + despair. + </p> + <p> + “But something might yet be done; yes, something must be done. She + would go instantly to Fife; she would tell Archie everything. He could not + blame her for being sick and beyond reason or knowledge. The doctors and + nurses of the hospital would certify to the truth of all she said.” + Ah! she had only to look in a mirror to know that her own wasted face and + form would have been testimony enough. + </p> + <p> + That night she could not move, she had done all that it was possible for + her to do that day; but on the morrow she would be rested and she might + trust herself to the noise and bustle of the street and railway. The day + was well on before she found strength to do this; but at length she found + herself on the direct road to Largo, though she could hardly tell how it + had been managed. As she approached the long chain of Fife + fishing-villages, she bought the newspaper most widely read in them; and, + to her terror and shame, found the same warning to honest folk against + her. She was heartsick. With this barrier between Archie and herself, how + could she go to Braelands? How could she face Madame? What mockery would + be made of her explanations? No, she must see Archie alone. She must tell + him the whole truth, somewhere beyond Madame’s contradiction and + influence. Whom should she go to? Her aunt Kilgour had turned her away, + even before this disgrace. Her cousin Isobel’s husband had asked her + not to come to his house and make loss and trouble for him. If she went + direct to Braelands, and Archie happened to be out of the house, Madame + would say such things of her before every one as could never be unsaid. If + she went to a hotel, she would be known, and looked at, and whispered + about, and maybe slighted. What must she do? Where could she see her + husband best? She was at her wit’s end. She was almost at the end of + her physical strength and consciousness. And in this condition, two men + behind her began to talk to the rustle of their turning newspapers. + </p> + <p> + “This is a queer-like thing about Braelands and his wife,” + said one. + </p> + <p> + “It is a very bad thing. If the wife has gane awa’, she has + been driven awa’ by bad usage. There is an old woman at Braelands + that is as evil-hearted as if she had slipped out o’ hell for a few + years. Traill’s girl was good and bonnie; she was too good, or she + would have held her ain side better.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be; but there is a reason deeper than that. The man is + wanting to marry the Glamis girl. He has already began a suit for divorce, + I hear. Man, man, there is always a woman at the bottom of every sin and + trouble!” + </p> + <p> + Then they began to speak of the crops and the shooting, and Sophy listened + in vain for more intelligence. But she had heard enough. Her soul cried + out against the hurry and shame of the steps taken in the matter. “So + cruel as Archie is!” she sighed. “He might have looked for me! + He might have found me even in that awful hospital! He ought to have done + so, and taken me away and nursed me himself! If he had loved me! If he had + loved me, he would have done these things!”. Despair chilled her + very blood. She had a thought of going to Braelands, even if she died on + its threshold; and then suddenly she remembered Janet Binnie. + </p> + <p> + As Janet’s name came to her mind, the train stopped at Largo, and + she slipped out among the hurrying crowd and took the shortest road to + Pittendurie. It was then nearly dark, and the evening quite chill and + damp; but there was now a decisive end before the dying woman. “She + must reach Janet Binnie, and then leave all to her. She would bring Archie + to her side. She would be sufficient for Madame. If this only could be + managed while she had strength to speak, to explain, to put herself right + in Archie’s eyes, then she would be willing and glad to die.” + Step by step, she stumbled forward, full of unutterable anguish of heart, + and tortured at every movement by an inability to get breath enough to + carry her forward. + </p> + <p> + At last, at last, she came in sight of Janet’s cottage. The cliff + terrified her; but she must get up it, somehow. And as she painfully made + step after step, a light shone through the open door and seemed to give + her strength and welcome. Janet had been spending the evening with her + daughter, and had sat with her until near her bedtime. She was doing her + last household duties, and the last of all was to close the house-door. + When she went to do this, a little figure crouched on the door-step, two + weak hands clasped her round the knees, and the very shadow of a thin, + pitiful voice sobbed:— + </p> + <p> + “Janet! Take me in, Janet! Take me in to die! I’ll not trouble + you long—it is most over, Janet!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. — DRIVEN TO HIS DUTY + </h2> + <p> + Toward this culmination of her troubles Archie had indeed contributed far + too much, but yet not as much as Sophy thought. He had taken her part, he + had sought for her, he had very reluctantly come to accept his mother’s + opinions. His trip had not been altogether the heaven Madame represented + it. The Admiral had proved himself dictatorial and sometimes very + disagreeable at sea; the other members of the party had each some + unpleasant peculiarities which the cramped quarters and the monotony of + yacht life developed. Some had deserted altogether, others grumbled more + than was agreeable, and Marion’s constant high spirits proved to be + at times a great exaction. + </p> + <p> + Before the close of the pleasure voyage, Archie frequently went alone to + remember the sweet, gentle affection of his wife, her delight in his + smallest attentions, her instant recognition of his desires, her patient + endeavours to please him, her resignation to all his neglect. Her image + grew into his best imagination, and when he left the yacht at her moorings + in Pittendurie Bay, he hastened to Sophy with the impatience of a lover + who is also a husband. + </p> + <p> + Madame had heard of his arrival and was watching for her son. She met him + at the door and he embraced her affectionately, but his first words were, + “Sophy, I hope she is not ill. Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Archie, no one knows. She left your home three weeks after + you had sailed.” + </p> + <p> + “My God, Mother, what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “No one knows why she left, no one knows or can find out where she + went to. Of course, I have my suspicions.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophy! Sophy! Sophy!” he cried, sinking into a chair and + covering his face, but, whatever Madame’s suspicions, she could not + but see that Archie had not a doubt of his wife’s honour. After a + few minutes’ silence, he turned to his mother and said:— + </p> + <p> + “You have scolded for once, Mother, more than enough. I am sure it + is your unkindness that has driven my wife from her home. You promised me + not to interfere with her little plans and pleasures.” + </p> + <p> + “If I am to bear the blame of the woman’s low tastes, I + decline to discuss the matter,” and she left the room with an air of + great offence. + </p> + <p> + Of course, if Madame would not discuss the matter with him, nothing + remained but the making of such inquiries as the rest of the household + could answer. Thomas readily told all he knew, which was the simple + statement that “he took his mistress to her aunt’s and left + her there, and that when he returned for her, Miss Kilgour was much + distressed and said she had already left.” Archie then immediately + sought Miss Kilgour, and from her learned the particulars of his wife’s + wretchedness, especially those points relating to the appropriated letter. + He flushed crimson at this outrage, but made no remark concerning it. + </p> + <p> + “My one desire now,” he said, “is to find out where + Sophy has taken refuge. Can you give me any idea?” + </p> + <p> + “If she is not in Pittendurie,—and I can find no trace of her + there,—then I think she may be in Edinburgh or Glasgow. You will + mind she had cousins in Edinburgh, and she was very kind with them at the + time of her marriage. I thought of them first of all, and I wrote three + letters to them; but there has been no answer to any of the three. She has + friends in Glasgow, but I am sure she had no knowledge as to where they + lived. Besides, I got their address from kin in Aberdeen and wrote there + also, and they answered me and said they had never seen or heard tell of + Sophy. Here is their letter.” + </p> + <p> + Archie read it carefully and was satisfied that Sophy was not in Glasgow. + The silence of the Edinburgh cousins was more promising, and he resolved + to go at once to that city and interview them. He did not even return to + Braelands, but took the next train southward. Of course his inquiries + utterly failed. He found Sophy’s relatives, but their air of + amazement and their ready and positive denial of all knowledge of his lost + wife were not to be doubted. Then he returned to Largo. He assured himself + that Sophy was certainly in hiding among the fisher-folk in Pittendurie, + and that he would only have to let it be known that he had returned for + her to appear. Indeed she must have seen the yacht at anchor, and he fully + expected to find her on the door-step waiting for him. As he approached + Braelands, he fancied her arms round his neck, and saw her small, wistful, + flushing face against his breast; but it was all a dream. The door was + closed, and when it admitted him there was nothing but silence and vacant + rooms. He was nearly distracted with sorrow and anger, and Madame had a + worse hour than she ever remembered when Archie asked her about the fatal + letter that had been the active cause of trouble. + </p> + <p> + “The letter was Sophy’s,” he said passionately, “and + you knew it was. How then could you be so shamefully dishonourable as to + keep it from her?” + </p> + <p> + “If you choose to reproach me on mere servants’ gossip, I + cannot prevent you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not servants’ gossip. I know by the date on which Sophy + left home that it must have been the letter I wrote her from Christiania. + It was a disgraceful, cruel thing for you to do. I can never look you in + your face again, Mother. I do not feel that I can speak to you, or even + see you, until my wife has forgiven both you and myself. Oh, if I only + knew where to look for her!” + </p> + <p> + “She is not far to seek; she is undoubtedly among her kinsfolk at + Pittendurie. You may remember, perhaps, how they felt toward you before + you went away. After you went, she was with them continually.” + </p> + <p> + “Then Thomas lies. He says he never took her anywhere but to her + aunt Kilgour’s.” + </p> + <p> + “I think Thomas is more likely to lie than I am. If you have + strength to bear the truth, I will tell you what I am convinced of.” + </p> + <p> + “I have strength for anything but this wretched suspense and fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then, go to the woman called Janet Binnie; you may + recollect, if you will, that her son Andrew was Sophy’s ardent lover—so + much so, that her marriage to you nearly killed him. He has become a + captain lately, wears gold buttons and bands, and is really a very + handsome and important man in the opinion of such people as your wife. I + believe Sophy is either in his mother’s house or else she has gone + to—London.” + </p> + <p> + “Why London?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Binnie sails continually to London. Really, Archie, there + are none so blind as those who won’t see.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not believe such a thing of Sophy. She is as pure and + innocent as a little child.” + </p> + <p> + Madame laughed scornfully. “She is as pure and innocent as those + baby-faced women usually are. As a general rule, the worst creature in the + world is a saint in comparison. What did Sophy steal out at night for? + Tell me that. Why did she walk to Pittendurie so often? Why did she tell + me she was going to walk to her aunt’s, and then never go?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, Mother, are you telling me the truth?” + </p> + <p> + “Your inquiry is an insult, Archie. And your blindness to Sophy’s + real feelings is one of the most remarkable things I ever saw. Can you not + look back and see that ever since she married you she has regretted and + fretted about the step? Her heart is really with her fisher and sailor + lover. She only married you for what you could give her; and having got + what you could give her, she soon ceased to prize it, and her love went + back to Captain Binnie,—that is, if it had ever left him.” + </p> + <p> + Conversation based on these shameful fabrications was continued for hours, + and Madame, who had thoroughly prepared herself for it, brought one bit of + circumstantial evidence after another to prove her suspicions. The + wretched husband was worked to a fury of jealous anger not to be + controlled. “I will search every cottage in Pittendurie,” he + said in a rage. “I will find Sophy, and then kill her and myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be a fool, Archibald Braelands. Find the woman,—that + is necessary,—then get a divorce from her, and marry among your own + kind. Why should you lose your life, or even ruin it, for a fisherman’s + old love? In a year or two you will have forgotten her and thrown the + whole affair behind your back.” + </p> + <p> + It is easy to understand how a conversation pursued for hours in this vein + would affect Archie. He was weak and impulsive, ready to suspect whatever + was suggested, jealous of his own rights and honour, and on the whole of + that pliant nature which a strong, positive woman like Madame could + manipulate like wax. He walked his room all night in a frenzy of jealous + love. Sophy lost to him had acquired a sudden charm and value beyond all + else in life; he longed for the morning; for Madame’s positive + opinions had thoroughly convinced him, and he felt a great deal more sure + than she did that Sophy was in Pittendurie. And yet, after every such + assurance to himself, his inmost heart asked coldly, “Why then has + she not come back to you?” + </p> + <p> + He could eat no breakfast, and as soon as he thought the village was + awake, he rode rapidly down to Pittendurie. Janet was alone; Andrew was + somewhere between Fife and London; Christina was preparing her morning + meal in her own cottage. Janet had already eaten hers, and she was washing + her tea-cup and plate and singing as she did so,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I cast my line in Largo Bay, + And fishes I caught nine; + There’s three to boil, and three to fry, + And three to bait the line,” + </pre> + <p> + when she heard a sharp rap at her door. The rap was not made with the + hand; it was peremptory and unusual, and startled Janet. She put down the + plate she was wiping, ceased singing, and went to the door. The Master of + Braelands was standing there. He had his short riding-whip in his hand, + and Janet understood at once that he had struck her house door with the + handle of it. She was offended at this, and she asked dourly:— + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, your bidding?” + </p> + <p> + “I came to see my wife. Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to know that better than any other body. It is none of my + business.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you she has left her home.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no doubt she had the best of good reasons for doing so.” + </p> + <p> + “She had no reason at all.” + </p> + <p> + Janet shrugged her shoulders, smiled with scornful disbelief, and looked + over the tossing black waters. + </p> + <p> + “Woman, I wish to go through your house, I believe my wife is in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Go through my house? No indeed. Do you think I’ll let a man + with a whip in his hand go through my house after a poor frightened bird + like Sophy? No, no, not while my name is Janet Binnie.” + </p> + <p> + “I rode here; my whip is for my horse. Do you think I would use it + on any woman?” + </p> + <p> + “God knows, I don’t.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a brute.” + </p> + <p> + “You say so yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Woman, I did not come here to bandy words with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Man, I’m no caring to hear another word you have to say; take + yourself off my door-stone,” and Janet would have shut the door in + his face, but he would not permit her. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Sophy to come and speak to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sophy is not here.” + </p> + <p> + “She has no reason to be afraid of me.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think not.” + </p> + <p> + “Go and tell her to come to me then.” + </p> + <p> + “She is not in my house. I wish she was.” + </p> + <p> + “She <i>is</i> in your house.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you dare to call me a liar? Man alive! Do it again, and every + fisher-wife in Pittendurie will help me to give you your fairings.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Tush!</i>! Let me see my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Take yourself off my doorstep, or it will be the worse for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Coming here and chapping on my door—on Janet Binnie’s + door!—with a horsewhip!” + </p> + <p> + “There is no use trying to deceive me with bad words. Let me pass.” + </p> + <p> + “Off with you! you poor creature, you! Sophy Traill had a bad + bargain with the like of you, you drunken, lying, savage-like, + wife-beating pretence o’ a husband!” + </p> + <p> + “Mother’ Mother!” cried Christina, coming hastily + forward; “Mother, what are you saying at all?” + </p> + <p> + “The God’s truth, Christina, that and nothing else. Ask the + mean, perfectly unutterable scoundrel how he got beyond his mother’s + apron-strings so far as this?” + </p> + <p> + Christina turned to Braelands. “Sir,” she said, “what’s + your will?” + </p> + <p> + “My wife has left her home, and I have been told she is in Mistress + Binnie’s house.” + </p> + <p> + “She is not. We know nothing about the poor, miserable lass, God + help her!” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “Please yourself anent believing me, but you had better be going, + sir. I see Limmer Scott and Mistress Roy and a few more fishwives looking + this way.” + </p> + <p> + “Let them look.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, they have their own fashion of dealing with men who ill use a + fisher lass. Sophy was born among them.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a bad lot! altogether a bad lot!” + </p> + <p> + “Go now, and go quick, or we’ll prove to you that we are a bad + lot!” cried Janet. “I wouldn’t myself think anything of + putting you in a blanket and tossing you o’er the cliff into the + water.” And Janet, with arms akimbo and eyes blazing with anger, was + not a comfortable sight. + </p> + <p> + So, with a smile of derision, Braelands turned his back on the women, + walking with an affected deliberation which by no means hid the white + feather from the laughing, jeering fisher-wives who came to their door at + Janet’s call for them, and whose angry mocking followed him until he + was out of sight and hearing. Then there was a conclave in Janet’s + house, and every one told a different version of the Braelands trouble. In + each case, however, Madame was credited with the whole of the + sorrow-making, though Janet stoutly asserted that “a man who was + feared for his mother wasn’t fit to be a husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame’s tongue and temper is kindled from a coal out of + hell,” she said, “and that is the God’s truth; but she + couldn’t do ill with them, if Archie Braelands wasn’t a coward—a + sneaking, trembling coward, that hasn’t the heart in him to stand + between poor little Sophy and the most spiteful, hateful old sinner this + side of the brimstone pit.” + </p> + <p> + But though the birr and first flame of the village anger gradually cooled + down, Janet’s and Christina’s hearts were hot and heavy within + them, and they could not work, nor eat, nor sleep with any relish, for + thinking of the poor little runaway wife. Indeed, in every cottage there + was one topic of wonder and pity, and one sad lament when two or three of + the women came together: “Poor Sophy! Poor Sophy Braelands!” + It was noticeable, however, that not a single woman had a wrong thought of + Sophy. Madame could easily suspect the worst, but the “worst” + was an incredible thing to a fisher-wife. Some indeed blamed her for not + tholing her grief until her husband came back, but not a single heart + suspected her of a liaison with her old lover. + </p> + <p> + Archie, however, returned from his ineffectual effort to find her with + every suspicion strengthened. Madame could hardly have hoped for a visit + so completely in her favour, and after it Archie was entirely under her + influence. It is true he was wretchedly despondent, but he was also + furiously angry. He fancied himself the butt of his friends, he believed + every one to be talking about his affairs, and, day by day, his sense of + outrage and dishonour pressed him harder and harder. In a month he was + quite ready to take legal steps to release himself from such a doubtful + tie, and Madame, with his tacit permission, took the first step towards + such a consummation by writing with her own hand the notice which had + driven Sophy to despair. + </p> + <p> + While events were working towards this end, Sophy was helpless and + senseless in the Glasgow hospital. Archie’s anger was grounded on + the fact that she must know of his return, and yet she had neither come + back to her home nor sent him a line of communication. He told himself + that if she had written him one line, he would have gone to the end of the + earth after her. And anon he told himself that if she had been true to + him, she would have written or else come back to her home. Say she was + sick, she could have got some one to use the pen or the telegraph for her. + And this round of reasoning, always led into the same channel by Madame, + finally assumed not the changeable quality of argument, but the + positiveness of fact. + </p> + <p> + So the notice of her abandonment was sent by the press far and wide, and + yet there came no protest against it; for Sophy had brought to the + hospital nothing by which she could be identified, and as no hint of her + personal appearance was given, it was impossible to connect her with it. + Thus while its cruel words linked suspicion with her name in every + household where they went, she lay ignorantly passive, knowing nothing at + all of the wrong done her and of the unfortunate train of circumstances + which finally forced her husband to doubt her love and her honour. It was + an additional calamity that this angry message of severance was the first + thing that met her consciousness when she was at all able to act. + </p> + <p> + Her childish ignorance and her primitive ideas aided only too well the + impression of finality it gave. She put it beside all she had seen and + heard of her husband’s love for Marion Glamis, and the miserable + certainty was plain to her. She knew she was dying, and a quiet place to + die in and a little love to help her over the hard hour seemed to be all + she could expect now; the thought of Janet and Christina was her last + hope. Thus it was that Janet found her trembling and weeping on her + doorstep; thus it was she heard that pitiful plaint, “Take me in, + Janet! Take me in to die!” + </p> + <p> + Never for one moment did Janet think of refusing this sad petition. She + sat down beside her; she laid Sophy’s head against her broad loving + breast; she looked with wondering pity at the small, shrunken face, so wan + and ghostlike in the gray light. Then she called Christina, and Christina + lifted Sophy easily in her arms, and carried her into her own house. + “For we’ll give Braelands no occasion against either her or + Andrew,” she said. Then they undressed the weary woman and made her + a drink of strong tea; and after a little she began to talk in a quick, + excited manner about her past life. + </p> + <p> + “I ran away from Braelands at the end of July,” she said. + “I could not bear the life there another hour; I was treated before + folk as if I had lost my senses; I was treated when I was alone as if I + had no right in the house, and as if my being in it was a mortal wrong and + misery to every one. And at the long last the woman there kept Archie’s + letter from me, and I was wild at that, and sick and trembling all over; + and I went to Aunt Griselda, and she took Madame’s part and would + not let me stay with her till Archie came back to protect me. What was I + to do? I thought of my cousins in Edinburgh and went there, and could not + find them. Then there was only Ellen Montgomery in Glasgow, and I was ill + and so tired; but I thought I could manage to reach her.” + </p> + <p> + “And didn’t you reach her, dearie?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I got worse and worse; and when I reached Glasgow I knew + nothing at all, and they sent me to the hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Sophy! Sophy!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, they did. What else could be, Janet? No one knew who I was; I + could not tell any one. They weren’t bad to me. I suffered, but they + did what they could to help me. Such dreadful nights, Janet! Such long, + awful days! Week after week in which I knew nothing but pain; I could not + move myself. I could not write to any one, for my thoughts would not stay + with me; and my sight went away, and I had hardly strength to live.” + </p> + <p> + “Try and forget it, Sophy, darling,” said Christina. “We + will care for you now, and the sea-winds will blow health to you.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head sadly. “Only the winds of heaven will ever blow + health to me, Christina,” she answered; “I have had my death + blow. I am going fast to them who have gone before me. I have seen my + mother often, the last wee while. I knew it was my mother, though I do not + remember her; she is waiting for her bit lassie. I shall not have to go + alone; and His rod and staff will comfort me, I will fear no evil.” + </p> + <p> + They kissed and petted and tried to cheer her, and Janet begged her to + sleep; but she was greatly excited and seemed bent on excusing and + explaining what she had done. “For I want you to tell Archie + everything, Janet,” she said. “I shall maybe never see him + again; but you must take care, that he has not a wrong thought of me.” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll get the truth and the whole truth from me, dearie.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t scold him, Janet. I love him very much. It is not his + fault.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know that.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not. I wasn’t home to Braelands two days before + Madame began to make fun of my talk, and my manners, and my dress, and of + all I did and said. And she got Archie to tell me I must mind her, and try + to learn how to be a fine lady like her; and I could not—I could + not. And then she set Archie against me, and I was scolded just for + nothing at all. And then I got ill, and she said I was only sulky and + awkward; but I just could not learn the books I be to learn, nor walk as + she showed me how to walk, nor talk like her, nor do anything at all she + tried to make me do. Oh, the weary, weary days that I have fret myself + through! Oh, the long, painful nights! I am thankful they can never, never + come back.” + </p> + <p> + “Then don’t think of them now, Sophy. Try and rest yourself a + bit, and to-morrow you shall tell me everything.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow will be too late, can’t you see that, Janet? I must + clear myself to-night—now—or you won’t know what to say + to Archie.” + </p> + <p> + “Was Archie kind to you, Sophy?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes he was that kind I thought I must be in the wrong, and + then I tried again harder than ever to understand the weary books and do + what Madame told me. Sometimes they made him cross at me, and I thought I + must die with the shame and heartache from it. But it was not till Marion + Glamis came back that I lost all hope. She was Archie’s first love, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + “She was nothing of the kind. I don’t believe he ever cared a + pin for her. You had the man’s first love; you have it yet, if it is + worth aught. He was here seeking you, dearie, and he was distracted with + the loss of you.” + </p> + <p> + “In the morning you will send for him, Janet, very early; and though + I’ll be past talking then, you will talk for me. You will tell him + how Madame tortured me about the Glamis girl, how she kept my letters, and + made Mrs. Stirling think I was not in my right mind,” and so between + paroxysms of pain and coughing, she went over and over the sad story of + petty wrongs that had broken her heart, and driven her at last to + rebellion and flight. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my poor lassie, why didn’t you come to Christina and me?” + </p> + <p> + “There was aye the thought of Andrew. Archie would have been angry, + maybe, and I could only feel that I must get away from Braelands. When + aunt failed me, something seemed to drive me to Edinburgh, and then on to + Glasgow; but it was all right, you see, I have saved you and Christina for + the last hour,” and she clasped Christina’s hand and laid her + head closer to Janet’s breast. + </p> + <p> + “And I would like to see the man or woman that will dare to trouble + you now, my bonnie bairn,” said Janet. There was a sob in her voice, + and she crooned kind words to the dying girl, who fell asleep at last in + her arms. Then Janet went to the door, and stood almost gasping in the + strong salt breeze; for the shock of Sophy’s pitiful return had hurt + her sorely. There was a full moon in the sky, and the cold, gray waters + tossed restlessly under it. “Lord help us, we must bear what’s + sent!” she whispered; then she noticed a steamboat with closely + reefed sails lying in the offing; and added thankfully, “There is + ‘The Falcon,’ God bless her! And it’s good to think that + Andrew Binnie isn’t far away; maybe he’ll be wanted. I wonder + if I ought to send a word to him; if Sophy wants to see him, she shall + have her way; dying folk don’t make any mistakes.” + </p> + <p> + Now when Andrew came to anchor at Pittendurie, it was his custom to swing + out a signal light, and if the loving token was seen, Janet and Christina + answered by placing a candle in their windows. This night Janet put three + candles in her window. “Andrew will wonder at them,” she + thought, “and maybe come on shore to find out whatever their meaning + may be.” Then she hurriedly closed the door. The night was cold, but + it was more than that,—the air had the peculiar coldness that gives + sense of the supernatural, such coldness as precedes the advent of a + spirit. She was awed, she opened her mouth as if to speak, but was dumb; + she put out her hands—but who can arrest the invisible? + </p> + <p> + Sleep was now impossible. The very air of the room was sensitive. + Christina sat wide awake on one side of the bed, Janet on the other; they + looked at each other frequently, but did not talk. There was no sound but + the rising moans of the northeast wind, no light but the glow of the fire + and the shining of the full moon looking out from the firmament as from + eternity. Sophy slept restlessly like one in half-conscious pain, and when + she awoke before dawning, she was in a high fever and delirious; but there + was one incessant, gasping cry for “Andrew!” + </p> + <p> + “Andrew! Andrew! Andrew!” she called with fast failing breath, + “Andrew, come and go for Archie. Only you can bring him to me.” + And Janet never doubted at this hour what love and mercy asked for. + “Folks may talk if they want to,” she said to Christina, + “I am going down to the village to get some one to take a message to + Andrew. Sophy shall have her will at this hour if I can compass it.” + </p> + <p> + The men of the village were mostly yet at the fishing, but she found two + old men who willingly put out to “The Falcon” with the message + for her captain. Then she sent a laddie for the nearest doctor, and she + called herself for the minister, and asked him to come and see the sick + woman; “forbye, minister,” she added, “I’m + thinking you will be the only person in Pittendurie that will have the + needful control o’ temper to go to Braelands with the news.” + She did not specially hurry any one, for, sick as Sophy was, she believed + it likely Archie Braelands and a good doctor might give her such hope and + relief as would prolong her life a little while. “She is so young,” + she thought, “and love and sea-breezes are often a match for death + himself.” + </p> + <p> + The old men who had gone for Andrew were much too infirm to get close to + “The Falcon.” For with the daylight her work had begun, and + she was surrounded on all sides by a melee of fishing-boats. Some were + discharging their boxes of fish; others were struggling to get some point + of vantage; others again fighting to escape the uproar. The air was filled + with the roar of the waves and with the voices of men, blending in shouts, + orders, expostulations, words of anger, and words of jest. + </p> + <p> + Above all this hubbub, Andrew’s figure on the steamer’s bridge + towered large and commanding, as he watched the trunks of fish hauled on + board, and then dragged, pushed, thrown, or kicked, as near the mouth of + the hold as the blockade of trunks already shipped would permit. But, + sharp as a crack of thunder, a stentorian voice called out:— + </p> + <p> + “Captain Binnie wanted! Girl dying in Pittendurie wants him!” + </p> + <p> + Andrew heard. The meaning of the three lights was now explained. He had an + immediate premonition that it was Sophy, and he instantly deputed his + charge to Jamie, and was at the gunwale before the shouter had repeated + his alarm. To a less prompt and practised man, a way of reaching the shore + would have been a dangerous and tedious consideration; but Andrew simply + selected a point where a great wave would lift a small boat near to the + level of the ship’s bulwarks, and when this occurred, he leaped into + her, and was soon going shoreward as fast as his powerful stroke at the + oars could carry him. + </p> + <p> + When he reached Christina’s cottage, Sophy had passed beyond all + earthly care and love. She heeded not the tenderest words of comfort; her + life was inexorably coming to its end; and every one of her muttered words + was mysterious, important, wondrous, though they could make out nothing + she said, save only that she talked about “angels resting in the + hawthorn bowers.” Hastily Christina gave Andrew the points of her + sorrowful story, and then she suddenly remembered that a strange man had + brought there that morning some large, important-looking papers which he + had insisted on giving to the dying woman. Andrew, on examination, found + them to be proceedings in the divorce case between Archibald Braelands and + his wife Sophy Traill. + </p> + <p> + “Some one has recognised her in the train last night and then + followed her here,” he said pitifully. “They were in a gey + hurry with their cruel work. I hope she knows nothing about it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, they didn’t come till she was clean beyond the + worriments of this life. She did not see the fellow who put them in her + hands; she heard nothing he said to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then if she comes to herself at all, say nothing about them. What + for should we tell her? Death will break her marriage very soon without + either judge or jury.” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor says in a few hours at the most.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is no time to lose. Say a kind ‘farewell’ + for me, Christina, if you find a minute in which she can understand it. I’m + off to Braelands,” and he put the divorce papers in his pocket, and + went down the cliff at a run. When he reached the house, Archie was at the + door on his horse and evidently in a hurry; but Andrew’s look struck + him on the heart like a blow. He dismounted without a word, and motioned + to Andrew to follow him. They turned into a small room, and Archie closed + the door. For a moment there was a terrible silence, then Andrew, with + passionate sorrow, threw the divorce papers down on the table. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll not require, Braelands, to fash folk with the like of + them; your wife is dying. She is at my sister’s house. Go to her at + once.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that to you? Mind your own business, Captain Binnie.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the business of every decent man to call comfort to the + dying. Go and say the words you ought to say. Go before it is too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is my wife at your sister’s house?” + </p> + <p> + “God pity the poor soul, she had no other place to die in! For + Christ’s sake, go and say a loving word to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Where has she been all this time? Tell me that, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Dying slowly in the public hospital at Glasgow.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>My God</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “There is no time for words now; not a moment to spare. Go to your + wife at once.” + </p> + <p> + “She left me of her own free will. Why should I go to her now?” + </p> + <p> + “She did not leave you; she was driven away by devilish cruelty. And + oh, man, man, go for your own sake then! To-morrow it will be too late to + say the words you will weep to say. Go for your own sake. Go to spare + yourself the black remorse that is sure to come if you don’t go. If + you don’t care for your poor wife, go for your own sake!” + </p> + <p> + “I do care for my wife. I wished—” + </p> + <p> + “Haste you then, don’t lose a moment! Haste you! haste you! If + it is but one kind word before you part forever, give it to her. She has + loved you well; she loves you yet; she is calling for you at the grave’s + mouth. Haste you, man! haste you!” + </p> + <p> + His passionate hurry drove like a wind, and Braelands was as straw before + it. His horse stood there ready saddled; Andrew urged him to it, and saw + him flying down the road to Pittendurie before he was conscious of his own + efforts. Then he drew a long sigh, lifted the divorce papers and threw + them into the blazing fire. A moment or two he watched them pass into + smoke, and then he left the house with all the hurry of a soul anxious + unto death. Half-way down the garden path, Madame Braelands stepped in + front of him. + </p> + <p> + “What have you come here for?” she asked in her haughtiest + manner. + </p> + <p> + “For Braelands.” + </p> + <p> + “Where have you sent him to in such a black hurry?” + </p> + <p> + “To his wife. She is dying.” + </p> + <p> + “Stuff and nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “She is dying.” + </p> + <p> + “No such luck for my house. The creature has been dying ever since + he married her.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>You</i> have been <i>killing her</i> ever since he married her. + Give way, woman, I don’t want to speak to you; I don’t want to + touch the very clothes of you. I think no better of you than God Almighty + does, and He will ask Sophy’s life at your hands.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall tell Braelands of your impertinence. It will be the worse + for you.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be as God wills, and no other way. Let me pass. Don’t + touch me, there is blood on your hands, and blood on your skirts; and you + are worse—ten thousand times worse—than any murderer who ever + swung on the gallows-tree for her crime! Out of my way, Madame Braelands!” + </p> + <p> + She stood before him motionless as a white stone with passion, and yet + terrified by the righteous anger she had provoked. Words would not come to + her, she could not obey his order and move out of his way, so Andrew + turned into another path and left her where she stood, for he was + impatient of delay, and with steps hurried and stumbling, he followed the + husband whom he had driven to his duty. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. — AMONG HER OWN PEOPLE + </h2> + <p> + Braelands rode like a man possessed, furiously, until he reached the foot + of the cliff on which Janet’s and Christina’s cottages stood. + Then he flung the reins to a fisher-laddie, and bounded up the rocky + platform. Janet was standing in the door of Christina’s cottage + talking to the minister. This time she made no opposition to Braelands’s + entrance; indeed, there was an expression of pity on her face as she moved + aside to let him pass. + </p> + <p> + He went in noiselessly, reverently, suddenly awed by the majesty of Death’s + presence. This was so palpable and clear, that all the mere material work + of the house had been set aside. No table had been laid, no meat cooked; + there had been no thought of the usual duties of the day-time. Life stood + still to watch the great mystery transpiring in the inner room. + </p> + <p> + The door to it stood wide open, for the day was hot and windless. Archie + went softly in. He fell on his knees by his dying wife, he folded her to + his heart, he whispered into her fast-closing ears the despairing words of + love, reawakened, when all repentance was too late. He called her back + from the very shoal of time to listen to him. With heart-broken sobs he + begged her forgiveness, and she answered him with a smile that had caught + the glory of heaven. At that hour he cared not who heard the cry of his + agonising love and remorse. Sophy was the whole of his world, and his + anguish, so imperative, brought perforce the response of the dying woman + who loved him yet so entirely. A few tears—the last she was ever to + shed—gathered in her eyes; fondest words of affection were broken on + her lips, her last smile was for him, her sweet blue eyes set in death + with their gaze fixed on his countenance. + </p> + <p> + When the sun went down, Sophy’s little life of twenty years was + over. Her last few hours were very peaceful. The doctor had said she would + suffer much; but she did not. Lying in Archie’s arms, she slipped + quietly out of her clay tabernacle, and doubtless took the way nearest to + her Father’s House. No one knew the exact moment of her departure—no + one but Andrew. He, standing humbly at the foot of her bed, divined by + some wondrous instinct the mystic flitting, and so he followed her soul + with fervent prayer, and a love which spurned the grave and which was pure + enough to venture into His presence with her. + </p> + <p> + It was a scene and a moment that Archibald Braelands in his wildest and + most wretched after-days never forgot. The last rays of the setting sun + fell across the death-bed, the wind from the sea came softly through the + open window, the murmur of the waves on the sands made a mournful, + restless undertone to the majestic words of the minister, who, standing by + the bed-side, declared with uplifted hands and in solemnly triumphant + tones the confidence and hope of the departing spirit. + </p> + <p> + “‘Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations. + </p> + <p> + “‘Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever Thou hadst + formed the earth and the world; even from everlasting to everlasting, Thou + art God. + </p> + <p> + “‘For a thousand years in Thy sight are but as yesterday when + it is past; and as a watch in the night. + </p> + <p> + “‘The days of our years are three-score years and ten; and if + by reason of strength, they be four-score years, yet is their strength + labor and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.’” + </p> + <p> + Then there was a pause; Andrew said “<i>It is over!</i>” and + Janet took the cold form from the distracted husband, and closed the eyes + forever. + </p> + <p> + There was no more now for Archie to do, and he went out of the room + followed by Andrew. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for coming for me, Captain,” he said, “you + did me a kindness I shall never forget.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew you would be glad. I am grieved to trouble you further, + Braelands, at this hour; but the dead must be waited on. It was Sophy’s + wish to be buried with her own folk.” + </p> + <p> + “She is my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, you had taken steps to cast her off.” + </p> + <p> + “She ought to be brought to Braelands.” + </p> + <p> + “She shall never enter Braelands again. It was a black door to her. + Would you wish hatred and scorn to mock her in her coffin? She bid my + mother see that she was buried in peace and good will and laid with her + own people.” + </p> + <p> + Archie covered his face with his hands and tried to think. Not even when + dead could he force her into the presence of his mother—and it was + true he had begun to cast her off; a funeral from Braelands would be a + wrong and an insult. But all was in confusion in his mind and he said: + “I cannot think. I cannot decide. I am not able for anything more. + Let me go. To-morrow—I will send word—I will come.” + </p> + <p> + “Let it be so then. I am sorry for you, Braelands—but if I + hear nothing further, I will follow out Sophy’s wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall hear—but I must have time to think. I am at the + last point. I can bear no more.” + </p> + <p> + Then Andrew went with him down the cliff, and helped him to his saddle; + and afterwards he walked along the beach till he came to a lonely spot hid + in the rocks, and there he threw himself face downward on the sands, and + “communed with his own heart and was still.” At this supreme + hour, all that was human flitted and faded away, and the primal essence of + self was overshadowed by the presence of the Infinite. When the midnight + tide flowed, the bitterness of the sorrow was over, and he had reached + that serene depth of the soul which enabled him to rise to his feet and + say “Thy Will be done!” + </p> + <p> + The next day they looked for some communication from Braelands; yet they + did not suffer this expectation to interfere with Sophy’s explicit + wish, and the preparations for her funeral went on without regard to + Archie’s promise. It was well so, for there was no redemption of it. + He did not come again to Pittendurie, and if he sent any message, it was + not permitted to reach them. He was notified, however, of the funeral + ceremony, which was set for the Sabbath following her death, and Andrew + was sure he would at least come for one last look at the wife whom he had + loved so much and wronged so deeply. He did not do so. + </p> + <p> + Shrouded in white, her hands full of white asters, Sophy was laid to rest + in the little wind blown kirkyard of Pittendurie. It was said by some that + Braelands watched the funeral from afar off, others declared that he lay + in his bed raving and tossing with fever, but this or that, he was not + present at her burial. Her own kin—who were fishers—laid the + light coffin on a bier made of oars, and carried it with psalm singing to + the grave. It was Andrew who threw on the coffin the first earth. It was + Andrew who pressed the cover of green turf over the small mound, and did + the last tender offices that love could offer. Oh, so small a mound! A + little child could have stepped over it, and yet, to Andrew, it was wider + than all the starry spaces. + </p> + <p> + The day was a lovely one, and the kirkyard was crowded to see little Sophy + join the congregation of the dead. After the ceremony was over the + minister had a good thought, he said: “We will not go back to the + kirk, but we will stay here, and around the graves of our friends and + kindred praise God for the ‘sweet enlargement’ of their death.” + Then he sang the first line of the paraphrase, “O God of Bethel by + whose hand,” and the people took it from his lips, and made holy + songs and words of prayer fill the fresh keen atmosphere and mingle with + the cries of the sea-birds and the hushed complaining of the rising + waters. And that afternoon many heard for the first time those noble words + from the Book of Wisdom that, during the more religious days of the middle + ages, were read not only at the grave-side of the beloved, but also at + every anniversary of their death. + </p> + <p> + “But if the righteous be cut off early by death; she shall be at + rest. + </p> + <p> + “For honor standeth not in length of days; neither is it computed by + number of years. + </p> + <p> + “She pleased God and was beloved, and she was taken away from living + among sinners. + </p> + <p> + “Her place was changed, lest evil should mar her understanding or + falsehood beguile her soul. + </p> + <p> + “She was made perfect in a little while, and finished the work of + many years. + </p> + <p> + “For her soul pleased God, and therefore He made haste to lead her + forth out of the midst of iniquity. + </p> + <p> + “And the people saw it and understood it not; neither considered + they this— + </p> + <p> + “That the grace of God and His mercy are upon His saints, and His + regard unto His Elect.” + </p> + <p> + Chief among the mourners was Sophy’s aunt Griselda. She now bitterly + repented the unwise and unkind “No.” Sophy was dearer to her + than she thought, and when she had talked over her wrongs with Janet, her + indignation knew no bounds. It showed itself first of all to the author of + these wrongs. Madame came early to her shop on Monday morning, and + presuming on her last confidential talk with Miss Kilgour, began the + conversation on that basis. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Miss Kilgour,” she said with a sigh, “what + that poor girl’s folly has led her to.” + </p> + <p> + “I see what she has come to. I’m not blaming Sophy, however.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, whoever is to blame—and I suppose Braelands should have + been more patient with the troubles he called to himself—I shall + have to put on ‘blacks’ in consequence. It is a great expense, + and a very useless one; but people will talk if I do not go into mourning + for my son’s wife.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t do it, if I was you.” + </p> + <p> + “Society obliges. You must make me two gowns at least.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not sew a single stitch for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not sew for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Never again; not if you paid me a guinea a stitch.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? Are you in your senses?” + </p> + <p> + “Just as much as poor Sophy was. And I’ll never forgive myself + for listening to your lies about my niece. You ought to be ashamed of + yourself. Your cruelties to her are the talk of the whole country-side.” + </p> + <p> + “How dare you call me a liar?” + </p> + <p> + “When I think of wee Sophy in her coffin, I could call you something + far worse.” + </p> + <p> + “You are an impertinent woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah well, I never broke the Sixth Command. And if I was you, Madame, + I wouldn’t put ‘blacks’ on about it. But ‘blacks’ + or no ‘blacks,’ you can go to some other body to make them for + you; for I want none of your custom, and I’ll be obliged to you to + get from under my roof. This is a decent, God-fearing house.” + </p> + <p> + Madame had left before the end of Griselda’s orders; but she + followed her to the door, and delivered her last sentence as Madame was + stepping into her carriage. She was furious at the truths so + uncompromisingly told her, and still more so at the woman who had been + their mouthpiece. “A creature whom I have made! actually made!” + she almost screamed. “She would be out at service today but for me! + The shameful, impertinent, ungrateful wretch!” She ordered Thomas to + drive her straight back home, and, quivering with indignation, went to her + son’s room. He was dressed, but lying prone upon his bed; his mother’s + complaining irritated his mood beyond his endurance. He rose up in a + passion; his white haggard face showed how deeply sorrow and remorse had + ploughed into his very soul. + </p> + <p> + “Mother!” he cried, “you will have to hear the truth, in + one way or another, from every one. I tell you myself that you are not + guiltless of Sophy’s death—neither am I.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a lie.” + </p> + <p> + “Do go out of my room. This morning you are unbearable.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Are you going to permit people + to insult your mother, right and left, without a word? Have you no sense + of honour and decency?” + </p> + <p> + “No, for I let them insult the sweetest wife ever a man had. I am a + brute, a monster, not fit to live. I wish I was lying by Sophy’s + side. I am ashamed to look either men or women in the face.” + </p> + <p> + “You are simply delirious with the fever you have had.” + </p> + <p> + “Then have some mercy on me. I want to be quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have been grossly insulted.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall have to get used to that, and bear it as we can. We + deserve all that can be said of us—or to us.” Then he threw + himself on his bed again and refused to say another word. Madame scolded + and complained and pitied herself, and appealed to God and man against the + wrongs she suffered, and finally went into a paroxysm of hysterical + weeping. But Archie took no notice of the wordy tempest, so that Madame + was confounded and frightened, by an indifference so unusual and + unnatural. + </p> + <p> + Weeks of continual sulking or recrimination passed drearily away. Archie, + in the first tide of his remorse, fed himself on the miseries which had + driven Sophy to her grave. He interviewed the servants and heard all they + had to tell him. He had long conversations with Miss Kilgour, and made her + describe over and over Sophy’s despairing look and manner the + morning she ran away. For the poor woman found a sort of comfort in + blaming herself and in receiving meekly the hard words Archie could give + her. He visited Mrs. Stirling in regard to Sophy’s sanity, and heard + from that lady a truthful report of all that had passed in her presence. + He went frequently to Janet’s cottage, and took all her home thrusts + and all her scornful words in a manner so humble, so contrite, and so + heart-broken, that the kind old woman began finally to forgive and comfort + him. And the outcome of all these interviews and conversations Madame had + to bear. Her son, in his great sorrow, threw off entirely the yoke of her + control. He found his own authority and rather abused it. She had hoped + the final catastrophe would draw him closer to her; hoped the coolness of + friends and acquaintances would make him more dependent on her love and + sympathy. It acted in the opposite direction. The public seldom wants two + scapegoats. Madame’s ostracism satisfied its idea of justice. Every + one knew Archie was very much under her control. Every one could see that + he suffered dreadfully after Sophy’s death. Every one came promptly + to the opinion that Madame only was to blame in the matter. “The + poor husband” shared the popular sympathy with Sophy. + </p> + <p> + However, in the long run, he had his penalty to pay, and the penalty came, + as was most just, through Marion Glamis. Madame quickly noticed that after + her loss of public respect, Marion’s affection grew colder. At the + first, she listened to the tragedy of Sophy’s illness and death with + a decent regard for Madame’s feelings on the subject. When Madame + pooh-poohed the idea of Sophy being in an hospital for weeks, unknown, + Marion also thought it “most unlikely;” when Madame was + “pretty sure the girl had been in London during the hospital + interlude,” Marion also thought, “it might be so; Captain + Binnie was a very taking man.” When Madame said, “Sophy’s + whole conduct was only excusable on the supposition of her + unaccountability,” Marion also thought “she did act queerly at + times.” + </p> + <p> + Even these admissions were not made with the warmth that Madame expected + from Marion, and they gradually grew fainter and more general. She began + to visit Braelands less and less frequently, and, when reproached for her + remissness, said, “Archie was now a widower, and she did not wish + people to think she was running after him;” and her manner was so + cold and conventional that Madame could only look at her in amazement. She + longed to remind her of their former conversations about Archie, but the + words died on her lips. Marion looked quite capable of denying them, and + she did not wish to quarrel with her only visitor. + </p> + <p> + The truth was that Marion had her own designs regarding Archie, and she + did not intend Madame to interfere with them. She had made up her mind to + marry Braelands, but she was going to have him as the spoil of her own + weapons—not as a gift from his mother. And she was not so blinded by + hatred as to think Archie could ever be won by the abuse of Sophy. On the + contrary, she very cautiously began to talk of her with pity, and even + admiration. She fell into all Archie’s opinions and moods on the + subject, and declared with warmth and positiveness that she had always + opposed Madame’s extreme measures. In the long run, it came to pass + that Archie could talk comfortably with Marion about Sophy, for she always + reminded him of some little act of kindness to his wife, or of some + instance where he had decidedly taken her part, so that, gradually, she + taught him to believe that, after all, he had not been so very much to + blame. + </p> + <p> + In these tactics, Miss Glamis was influenced by the most powerful of + motives—self-preservation. She had by no means escaped the public + censure, and in that set of society she most desired to please, had been + decidedly included in the polite ostracism meted out to Madame. Lovers she + had none, and she began to realise, when too late, that the connection of + her name with that of Archie Braelands had been a wrong to her matrimonial + prospects that it would be hard to remedy. In fact, as the winter went on, + she grew hopeless of undoing the odium generated by her friendship with + Madame and her flirtation with Madame’s son. + </p> + <p> + “And I shall make no more efforts at conciliation,” she said + angrily to herself one day, after finding her name had been dropped from + Lady Blair’s visiting-list; “I will now marry Archie. My + fortune and his combined will enable us to live where and how we please. + Father must speak to him on the subject at once.” + </p> + <p> + That night she happened to find the Admiral in an excellent mood for her + purpose. The Laird of Binin had not “changed hats” with him + when they met on the highway, and he fumed about the circumstance as if it + had been a mortal insult. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll never lift my hat to him again, Marion, let alone open + my mouth,” he cried; “no, not even if we are sitting next to + each other at the club dinner. What wrong have I ever done him? Have I + ever done him a favour that he should insult me?” + </p> + <p> + “It is that dreadful Braelands’s business. That insolent, + selfish, domineering old woman has ruined us socially. I wish I had never + seen her face.” + </p> + <p> + “You seemed to be fond enough of her once.” + </p> + <p> + “I never liked her; I now detest her. The way she treated Archie’s + wife was abominable. There is no doubt of that. Father, I am going to take + this situation by the horns of its dilemma. I intend to marry Archie. No + one in the county can afford to snub Braelands. He is popular and likely + to be more so; he is rich and influential, and I also am rich. Together we + may lead public opinion—or defy it. My name has been injured by my + friendship with him. Archie Braelands must give me his name.” + </p> + <p> + “By St. Andrew, he shall!” answered the irritable old man. + “I will see he does. I ought to have considered this before, Marion. + Why did you not show me my duty?” + </p> + <p> + “It is early enough; it is now only eight months since his wife + died.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning as Archie was riding slowly along the highway, the + Admiral joined him. “Come home to lunch with me,” he said, and + Archie turned his horse and went. Marion was particularly sympathetic and + charming. She subdued her spirits to his pitch; she took the greatest + interest in his new political aspirations; she listened to his plans about + the future with smiling approvals, until he said he was thinking of going + to the United States for a few months. He wished to study Republicanism on + its own ground, and to examine, in their working conditions, several new + farming implements and expedients that he thought of introducing. Then + Marion rose and left the room. She looked at her father as she did so, and + he understood her meaning. + </p> + <p> + “Braelands,” he said, when they were alone, “I have + something to say which you must take into your consideration before you + leave Scotland. It is about Marion.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing ill with Marion, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but what you can cure. She is suffering very much, + socially, from the constant association of her name with yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to explain. At the time of your sweet little wife’s + death, Marion was constantly included in the blame laid to Madame + Braelands. You know now how unjustly.” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather not have that subject discussed.” + </p> + <p> + “But, by Heaven, it must be discussed! I have, at Marion’s + desire, said nothing hitherto, because we both saw how much you were + suffering; but, sir, if you are going away from Fife, you must remember + before you go that the living have claims as well as the dead.” + </p> + <p> + “If Marion has any claim on me, I am here, willing to redeem it.” + </p> + <p> + “‘If,’ Braelands; it is not a question of ‘if.’ + Marion’s name has been injured by its connection with your name. You + know the remedy. I expect you to behave like a gentleman in this matter.” + </p> + <p> + “You expect me to marry Marion?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. There is no other effectual way to right her.” + </p> + <p> + “I see Marion in the garden; I will go and speak to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Do, my dear fellow. I should like this affair pleasantly settled.” + </p> + <p> + Marion was sitting on the stone bench round the sun dial. She had a white + silk parasol over her head, and her lap was full of apple-blossoms. A + pensive air softened her handsome face, and as Archie approached, she + looked up with a smile that was very attractive. He sat down at her side + and began to finger the pink and white flowers. He was quite aware that he + was tampering with his fate as well; but at his very worst, Archie had a + certain chivalry about women that only needed to be stirred by a word or a + look indicating injustice. He was not keen to perceive; but when once his + eyes were opened, he was very keen to feel. + </p> + <p> + “Marion,” he said kindly, taking her hand in his, “have + you suffered much for my fault?” + </p> + <p> + “I have suffered, Archie.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not tell me before?” + </p> + <p> + “You have been so full of trouble. How could I add to it?” + </p> + <p> + “You have been blamed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very much.” + </p> + <p> + “There is only one way to right you, Marion; I offer you my name and + my hand. Will you take it?” + </p> + <p> + “A woman wants love. If I thought you could ever love me—” + </p> + <p> + “We are good friends. You have been my comforter in many miserable + hours. I will make no foolish protestations; but you know whether you can + trust me. And that we should come to love one another very sincerely is + more than likely.” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>do</i> love you. Have I not always loved you?” + </p> + <p> + And this frank avowal was just the incentive Archie required. His heart + was hungry for love; he surrendered himself very easily to the charming of + affection. Before they returned to the house, the compact was made, and + Marion Glamis and Archibald Braelands were definitely betrothed. + </p> + <p> + As Archie rode home in the gloaming, it astonished him a little to find + that he felt a positive satisfaction in the prospect of telling his mother + of his engagement—a satisfaction he did not analyze, but which was + doubtless compounded of a sense of justice, and of a not very amiable + conviction that the justice would not be more agreeable than justice + usually is. Indeed, the haste with which he threw himself from his horse + and strode into the Braelands’s parlour, and the hardly veiled air + of defiance with which he muttered as he went “It’s her own + doing; let her be satisfied with her work,” showed a heart that had + accepted rather than chosen its destiny, and that rebelled a little under + the constraint. + </p> + <p> + Madame was sitting alone in the waning light; her son had been away from + her all day, and had sent her no excuse for his detention. She was both + angry and sorrowful; and there had been a time when Archie would have been + all conciliation and regret. That time was past. His mother had forfeited + all his respect; there was nothing now between them but that wondrous tie + of motherhood which a child must be utterly devoid of grace and feeling to + forget. Archie never quite forgot it. In his worst moods he would tell + himself, “after all she is my mother. It was because she loved me. + Her inhumanity was really jealousy, and jealousy is cruel as the grave.” + But this purely natural feeling lacked now all the confidence of mutual + respect and trust. It was only a natural feeling; it had lost all the + nobler qualities springing from a spiritual and intellectual + interpretation of their relationship. + </p> + <p> + “You have been away all day, Archie,” Madame complained. + “I have been most unhappy about you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been doing some important business.” + </p> + <p> + “May I ask what it was?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been wooing a wife.” + </p> + <p> + “And your first wife not eight months in her grave!” + </p> + <p> + “It was unavoidable. I was in a manner forced to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Forced? The idea! Are you become a coward?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered wearily; “anything before a fresh + public discussion of my poor Sophy’s death.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Who is the lady?” + </p> + <p> + “There is only one lady possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Marion Glamis?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you could say ‘who’.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope to heaven you will never marry that woman! She is false from + head to foot. I would rather see another fisher-girl here than Marion + Glamis.” + </p> + <p> + “You yourself have made it impossible for me to marry any one but + Marion; though, believe me, if I could find another ‘fisher-girl’ + like Sophy, I would defy everything, and gladly and proudly marry her + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “That is understood; you need not reiterate. I see through Miss + Glamis now, the deceitful, ungrateful creature!” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, I am going to marry Miss Glamis. You must teach yourself to + speak respectfully of her.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate her worse than I hated Sophy. I am the most wretched of + women;” and her air of misery was so genuine and hopeless that it + hurt Archie very sensibly. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” he said; “but you, and you only, are to + blame. I have no need to go over your plans and plots for this very end; I + have no need to remind you how you seasoned every hour of poor Sophy’s + life with your regrets that Marion was <i>not</i> my wife. These + circumstances would not have influenced me, but her name has been mixed up + with mine and smirched in the contact.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will make a woman with a ‘smirched’ name + Mistress of Braelands? Have you no family pride?” + </p> + <p> + “I will wrong no woman, if I know it; that is my pride. If I wrong + them, I will right them. However, I give myself no credit about righting + Marion, her father made me do so.” + </p> + <p> + “My humiliation is complete, I shall die of shame.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! You will do as I do—make the best of the affair. You + can talk of Marion’s fortune and of her relationship to the Earl of + Glamis, and so on.” + </p> + <p> + “That nasty, bullying old man! And you to be frightened by him! It + is too shameful.” + </p> + <p> + “I was not frightened by him; but I have dragged one poor innocent + woman’s name through the dust and dirt of public discussion, and, + before God, Mother, I would rather die than do the same wrong to another. + You know the Admiral’s temper; once roused to action, he would spare + no one, not even his own daughter. It was then my duty to protect her.” + </p> + <p> + “I have nursed a viper, and it has bitten me. To-night I feel as if + the bite would be fatal.” + </p> + <p> + “Marion is not a viper; she is only a woman bent on protecting + herself. However, I wish you would remember that she is to be your + daughter-in-law, and try and meet her on a pleasant basis. Any more + scandal about Braelands will compel me to shut up this house absolutely + and go abroad to live.” + </p> + <p> + The next day Madame put all her pride and hatred out of sight and went to + call on Marion with congratulations; but the girl was not deceived. She + gave her the conventional kiss, and said all that it was proper to say; + but Madame’s overtures were not accepted. + </p> + <p> + “It is only a flag of truce,” thought Madame as she drove + homeward, “and after she is married to Archie, it will be war to the + knife-hilt between us. I can feel that, and I would not fear it if I was + sure of Archie. But alas, he is so changed! He is so changed!” + </p> + <p> + Marion’s thoughts were not more friendly, and she did not scruple to + express them in words to her father. “That dreadful old woman was + here this afternoon,” she said. “She tried to flatter me; she + tried to make me believe she was glad I was going to marry Archie. What a + consummate old hypocrite she is! I wonder if she thinks I will live in the + same house with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course she thinks so.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not. Archie and I have agreed to marry next Christmas. She + will move into her own house in time to hold her Christmas there.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t insist on that, Marion. She has lived at Braelands + nearly all her life. The Dower House is but a wretched place after it. The + street in which it stands has become not only poor, but busy, and the big + garden that was round it when the home was settled on her was sold in + Archie’s father’s time, bit by bit, for shops and a preserving + factory. You cannot send her to the Dower House.” + </p> + <p> + “She cannot stay at Braelands. She charges the very air of any house + she is in with hatred and quarrelling. Every one knows she has saved + money; if she does not like the Dower House, she can go to Edinburgh, or + London, or anywhere she likes—the further away from Braelands, the + better.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. — THE “LITTLE SOPHY” + </h2> + <p> + Madame did not go to the Dower House. Archie was opposed to such a + humiliation of the proud woman, and a compromise was made by which she was + to occupy the house in Edinburgh which had been the Braelands’s + residence during a great part of every winter. It was a handsome dwelling, + and Madame settled herself there in great splendour and comfort; but she + was a wretched woman in spite of her surroundings. She had only unhappy + memories of the past, she had no loving anticipations for the future. She + knew that her son was likely to be ruled by the woman at his side, and she + hoped nothing from Marion Glamis. The big Edinburgh house with its heavy + dark furniture, its shadowy draperies, and its stately gloom, became a + kind of death chamber in which she slowly went to decay, body and soul. + </p> + <p> + No one missed her much or long in Largo, and in Edinburgh she found it + impossible to gather round herself the company to which she had been wont. + Unpleasant rumours somehow clung to her name; no one said much about her, + but she was not popular. The fine dwelling in St. George’s Square + had seen much gay company in its spacious rooms; but Madame found it a + hopeless task to re-assemble it. She felt this want of favour keenly, + though she need not have altogether blamed herself for it, had she not + been so inordinately conscious of her own personality. For Archie had + undoubtedly, in previous winters, been the great social attraction. His + fine manners, his good nature, his handsome appearance, his wealth, and + his importance as a matrimonial venture, had crowded the receptions which + Madame believed owed their success to her own tact and influence. + </p> + <p> + Gradually, however, the truth dawned upon her; and then, in utter disgust, + she retired from a world that hardly missed her, and which had long only + tolerated her for the accidents of her connections and surroundings. Her + disposition for saving grew into a passion; she became miserly in the + extreme, and punished herself night and day in order that she might add + continually to the pile of hoarded money which Marion afterwards spent + with a lavish prodigality. Occasionally her thin, gray face, and her + haggard figure wrapped in a black shawl, were seen at the dusty windows of + the room she occupied. The rest of the house she closed. The windows were + hoarded up and the doors padlocked, and yet she lived in constant fear of + attacks from thieves on her life for her money. Finally she dismissed her + only servant lest she might be in league with such characters; and thus, + haunted by terrors of all kinds and by memories she could not destroy, she + dragged on for twenty years a life without hope and without love, and died + at last with no one but her lawyer and her physician at her side. She had + sent for Archie, but he was in Italy, and Marion she did not wish to see. + Her last words were uttered to herself. “I have had a poor life!” + she moaned with a desperate calmness that was her only expression of the + vast and terrible desolation of her heart and soul. + </p> + <p> + “A poor life,” said the lawyer, “and yet she has left + twenty-six thousand pounds to her son.” + </p> + <p> + “A poor life, and a most lonely flitting,” reiterated her + physician with awe and sadness. + </p> + <p> + However, she herself had no idea when she removed to Edinburgh of leading + so “poor a life.” She expected to make her house the centre of + a certain grave set of her own class and age; she expected Archie to visit + her often; she expected to find many new interests to occupy her feelings + and thoughts. But she was too old to transplant. Sophy’s death and + its attending circumstances had taken from her both personally and + socially more than she knew. Archie, after his marriage, led entirely by + Marion and her ways and desires, never went towards Edinburgh. The + wretched old lady soon began to feel herself utterly deserted; and when + her anger at this position had driven love out of her heart, she fell an + easy prey to the most sordid, miserable, and degrading of passions, the + hoarding of money. Nor was it until death opened her eyes that she + perceived she had had “a poor life.” + </p> + <p> + She began this Edinburgh phase of it under a great irritation. Knowing + that Archie would not marry until Christmas, and that after the marriage + he and Marion were going to London until the spring, she saw no reason for + her removal from Braelands until their return. Marion had different plans. + She induced Archie to sell off the old furniture, and to redecorate and + re-furnish Braelands from garret to cellar. It gave Madame the first + profound shock of her new life. The chairs and tables she had used sold at + auction to the tradespeople of Largo and the farmers of the country-side! + She could not understand how Archie could endure the thought. Under her + influence, he never would have endured it; but Archie Braelands smiled on, + and coaxed, and sweetly dictated by Marion Glamis, was ready enough to do + all that Marion wished. + </p> + <p> + “Of course the old furniture must be sold,” she said. “Why + not? It will help to buy the new. We don’t keep our old gowns and + coats; why then our old chairs and tables?” + </p> + <p> + “They have associations.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Archie! So has my white parasol. Shall I keep it in + tissue paper forever? Such sentimental ideas are awfully behind the times. + Your grandfather’s coat and shoes will not dress you to-day; + neither, my dear, can his notions and sentiments direct you.” + </p> + <p> + So Braelands was turned, as the country people said, “out of the + windows,” and Madame hastened away from the sight of such + desecration. It made Archie popular, however. The artisans found + profitable work in the big rooms, and the county families looked forward + to the entertainments they were to enjoy in the renovated mansion. It + restored Marion also to general estimation. There was a future before her + now which it would be pleasant to share, and every one considered that her + engagement to Archie exonerated her from all participation in Madame’s + cruelty. “She has always declared herself innocent,” said the + minister’s wife, “and Braelands’s marriage to her + affirms it in the most positive manner. Those who have been unjust to Miss + Glamis have now no excuse for their injustice.” This authoritative + declaration in Marion’s favour had such a decided effect that every + invitation to her marriage was accepted, and the ceremony, though + purposely denuded of everything likely to recall the tragedy now to be + forgotten, was really a very splendid private affair. + </p> + <p> + On the Sabbath before it, Archie took in the early morning a walk to the + kirkyard at Pittendurie. He was going to bid Sophy a last farewell. + Henceforward he must try and prevent her memory troubling his life and + influencing his moods and motives. It was a cold, chilling morning, and + the great immensity of the ocean spread away to the occult shores of the + poles. The sky was grey and sombre, the sea cloudy and unquiet; and far + off on the eastern horizon, a mysterious portent was slowly rolling + onward. + </p> + <p> + He crossed the stile and walked slowly forward. On his right hand there + was a large, newly-made grave with an oar standing upright at its head, + and some inscription rudely painted on it. His curiosity was aroused, and + he went closer to read the words: “<i>Be comforted! Alexander Murray + has prevailed</i>.” The few words so full of hope and triumph, moved + him strangely. He remembered the fisherman Murray, whose victory over + death was so certainly announced; and his soul, disregarding all the + forbidding of priests and synods, instantly sent a prayer after the + departed conqueror. “Wherever he is,” he thought, “surely + he is closer to Heaven than I am.” + </p> + <p> + He had been in the kirkyard often when none but God saw him, and his feet + knew well the road to Sophy’s grave. There was a slender shaft of + white marble at the head, and Andrew Binnie stood looking at it. Braelands + walked forward till only the little green mound separated them. Their eyes + met and filled with tears. They clasped hands across her grave and buried + every sorrowful memory, every sense of wrong or blame, in its depth and + height. Andrew turned silently away; Braelands remained there some minutes + longer. The secret of that invisible communion remained forever his own + secret. Those only who have had similar experiences know that souls who + love each other may, and can, exchange impressions across immensity. + </p> + <p> + He found Andrew sitting on the stile, gazing thoughtfully over the sea at + the pale grey wall of inconceivable height which was drawing nearer and + nearer. “The fog is coming,” he said, “we shall soon be + going into cloud after cloud of it.” + </p> + <p> + “They chilled and hurt her once. She is now beyond them.” + </p> + <p> + “She is in Heaven. God be thanked for His great mercy to her!” + </p> + <p> + “If we only knew something <i>sure</i>. Where is Heaven? Who can + tell?” + </p> + <p> + “In Thy presence is fullness of joy, and at Thy right hand pleasures + forevermore. Where God is, there is Heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard.” + </p> + <p> + “But God <i>hath</i> revealed it; not a <i>future</i> revelation, + Braelands, but a <i>present</i> one.” And then Andrew slowly, and + with pauses full of feeling and intelligence, went on to make clear to + Braelands the Present Helper in every time of need. He quoted mainly from + the Bible, his one source of all knowledge, and his words had the splendid + vagueness of the Hebrew, and lifted the mind into the illimitable. And as + they talked, the fog enveloped them, one drift after another passing by in + dim majesty, till the whole world seemed a spectacle of desolation, and a + breath of deadly chillness forced them to rise and wrap their plaids + closely round them. So they parted at the kirk yard gate, and never, never + again met in this world. + </p> + <p> + Braelands turned his face towards Marion and a new life, and Andrew went + back to his ship with a new and splendid interest. It began in wondering, + “whether there was any good in a man abandoning himself to a noble, + but vain regret? Was there no better way to pay a tribute to the beloved + dead?” Braelands’s costly monument did not realise his + conception of this possibility; but as he rowed back to his ship in the + gathering storm, a thought came into his mind with all the assertion of a + clang of steel, and he cried out to his Inner Man. + </p> + <p> + “<i>That</i>, oh my soul, is what I will do; <i>that</i> is what + will keep my love’s name living and lovely in the hearts of her + people.” + </p> + <p> + His project was not one to be accomplished without much labour and + self-denial. It would require a great deal of money, and he would have to + save with conscientious care many years to compass his desire, which was + to build a Mission Ship for the deep sea fishermen Twelve years he worked + and saved, and then the ship was built; a strong steam-launch, able to + buffet and bear the North Sea when its waves were running wild over + everything. She was provided with all appliances for religious comfort and + teaching; she had medicines for the sick and surgical help for the + wounded; she carried every necessary protection against the agonising + “sea blisters” which torture the fishermen in the winter + season. And this vessel of many comforts was called the “Sophy + Traill.” + </p> + <p> + She is still busy about her work of mercy. Many other Mission Ships now + traverse the great fishing-fleets of the North Sea, and carry hope and + comfort to the fishermen who people its grey, wild waters; but none is so + well beloved by them as the “Little Sophy.” When the boats lie + at their nets on a summer’s night, it is on the “Little Sophy” + that “Rock of Ages” is started and then taken up by the whole + fleet. And when the stormy winds of winter blow great guns, then the + “Little Sophy,” flying her bright colours in the daytime and + showing her many lights at night, is always rolling about among the boats, + blowing her whistle to tell them she is near by, or sending off help in + her lifeboat, or steaming after a smack in distress. + </p> + <p> + Fifteen years after Andrew and Archie parted at the kirkyard, Archie came + to the knowledge first of Andrew’s living monument to the girl they + had both loved so much. He was coming from Norway in a yacht with a few + friends, and they were caught in a heavy, easterly gale. In a few hours + there was a tremendous sea, and the wind rapidly rose to a hurricane. The + “Little Sophy” steamed after the helpless craft and got as + near to her as possible; but as she lowered her lifeboat, she saw the + yacht stagger, stop, and then founder. The tops of her masts seemed to + meet, she had broken her back, and the seas flew sheer over her. + </p> + <p> + The lifeboat picked up three men from her, and one of them was Archie + Braelands. He was all but dead from exposure and buffeting; but the + surgeon of the Mission Ship brought him back to life. + </p> + <p> + It was some hours after he had been taken on board; the storm had gone + away northward as the sun set. There was the sound of an organ and of + psalm-singing in his ears, and yet he knew that he was in a ship on a + tossing sea, and he opened his eyes, and asked weakly: + </p> + <p> + “Where am I?” + </p> + <p> + The surgeon stooped to him and answered in a cheery voice: “<i>On + the Sophy Traill!’’</i>” + </p> + <p> + A cry, shrill as that of a fainting woman, parted Archie’s lips, and + he kept muttering in a half-delirious stupor all night long, “<i>The + Sophy Traill! The Sophy Traill!</i>” In a few days he recovered + strength and was able to leave the boat which had been his salvation; but + in those few days he heard and saw much that greatly influenced for the + noblest ends his future life. + </p> + <p> + All through the borders of Fife, people talked of Archie’s strange + deliverance by this particular ship, and the old story was told over again + in a far gentler spirit. Time had softened ill-feeling, and Archie’s + career was touched with the virtue of the tenderly remembered dead. + </p> + <p> + “He was but a thoughtless creature before he lost wee Sophy,” + Janet said, as she discussed the matter; “and now, where will you + find a better or a busier man? Fife’s proud of him, and Scotland’s + proud of him, and if England hasn’t the sense of discerning <i>who</i> + she ought to make a Prime Minister of, that isn’t Braelands’s + fault.” + </p> + <p> + “For all that,” said Christina, sitting among her boys and + girls, “Sophy ought to have married Andrew. She would have been + alive to-day if she had.” + </p> + <p> + “You aren’t always an oracle, Christina, and you have a deal + to learn yet; but I’m not saying but what poor Sophy did make a + mistake in her marriage. Folks should marry in their own class, and in + their own faith, and among their own folk, or else ninety-nine times out + of a hundred they marry sorrow; but I’m not so sure that being alive + to-day would have been a miracle of pleasure and good fortune. If she had + had bairns, as ill to bring up and as noisy and fashious as yours are, she + is well spared the trouble of them.” + </p> + <p> + “You have spoiled the bairns yourself, Mother. If I ever check or + scold them, you are aye sure to take their part.” + </p> + <p> + “Because you never know when a bairn is to blame and when its mother + is to blame. I forgot to teach you that lesson.” + </p> + <p> + Christina laughed and said something about it “being a grand thing + Andrew had no lads and lasses,” and then Janet held, her head up + proudly, and said with an air of severe admonition: + </p> + <p> + “It’s well enough for you and the like of you to have lads and + lasses; but my boy Andrew has a duty far beyond it, he has the ‘Sophy + Traill’ to victual and store, and send out to save souls and bodies.” + </p> + <p> + “Lads and lasses aren’t bad things, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + “They’ll be all the better for the ‘Sophy Traill’ + and the other boats like her. That laddie o’ yours that will be off + to sea whether you like it or not, will give you many a fear and + heartache. Andrew’s ‘boat of blessing’ goes where she is + bid to go, and does as she is told to do. That’s the difference.” + </p> + <p> + Difference or not, his “boat of blessing” was Andrew’s + joy and pride. She had been his salvation, inasmuch as she had consecrated + that passion for hoarding money which was the weak side of his character. + She had given to his dead love a gracious memory in the hearts of + thousands, and “a name far better than that of sons and daughters.” + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Night of the Nets, by Amelia E. 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Barr + +Posting Date: September 10, 2012 [EBook #9374] +Release Date: November, 2005 +First Posted: September 26, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A NIGHT OF THE NETS *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Tonya Allen and PG +Distributed Proofreaders, from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions. + + + + + + + + + + + +A KNIGHT OF THE NETS + +BY + +AMELIA E. BARR + + +1896 + + + + +CONTENTS. + +CHAPTER + + +I THE WORLD SHE LIVED IN. + +II CHRISTINA AND ANDREW. + +III THE AILING HEART. + +IV THE LASH OF THE WHIP. + +V THE LOST BRIDE. + +VI WHERE IS MY MONEY? + +VII THE BEGINNING OF THE END. + +VIII A GREAT DELIVERANCE. + +IX THE RIGHTING OF A WRONG. + +X TAKE ME IN TO DIE. + +XI DRIVEN TO HIS DUTY. + +XII AMONG HER OWN PEOPLE. + +XIII THE "LITTLE SOPHY". + + + +_Grey sky, brown waters: as a bird that flies + My heart flits forth to these; +Back to the winter rose of Northern skies, + Back to the Northern seas_. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE WORLD SHE LIVED IN + + +It would be easy to walk many a time through "Fife and all the lands +about it" and never once find the little fishing village of +Pittendurie. Indeed, it would be a singular thing if it was found, +unless some special business or direction led to it. For clearly it was +never intended that human beings should build homes where these +cottages cling together, between sea and sky,--a few here, and a few +there, hidden away in every bend of the rocks where a little ground +could be levelled, so that the tides in stormy weather break with +threat and fury on the very doorstones of the lowest cottages. Yet as +the lofty semicircle of hills bend inward, the sea follows; and there +is a fair harbour, where the fishing boats ride together while their +sails dry in the afternoon sun. Then the hamlet is very still; for the +men are sleeping off the weariness of their night work, while the +children play quietly among the tangle, and the women mend the nets or +bait the lines for the next fishing. A lonely little spot, shut in by +sea and land, and yet life is there in all its passionate variety--love +and hate, jealousy and avarice, youth, with its ideal sorrows and +infinite expectations, age, with its memories and regrets, and "sure +and certain hope." + +The cottages also have their individualities. Although they are much of +the same size and pattern, an observing eye would have picked out the +Binnie cottage as distinctive and prepossessing. Its outside walls were +as white as lime could make them; its small windows brightened with +geraniums and a white muslin curtain; and the litter of ropes and nets +and drying fish which encumbered the majority of thatches, was +pleasantly absent. Standing on a little level, thirty feet above the +shingle, it faced the open sea, and was constantly filled with the +confused tones of its sighing surges, and penetrated by its pulsating, +tremendous vitality. + +It had been the home of many generations of Binnies, and the very old, +and the very young, had usually shared its comforts together; but at +the time of my story, there remained of the family only the widow of +the last proprietor, her son Andrew, and her daughter Christina. +Christina was twenty years old, and still unmarried,--a strange thing +in Pittendurie, where early marriages are the rule. Some said she was +vain of her beauty and could find no lad whom she thought good enough; +others thought she was a selfish, cold-hearted girl, feared for the +cares and the labours of a fisherman's wife. + +On this July afternoon, the girl had been some hours mending the pile +of nets at her feet; but at length they were in perfect order, and she +threw her arms upward and outward to relieve their weariness, and then +went to the open door. The tide was coming in, but the children were +still paddling in the salt pools and on the cold bladder rack, and she +stepped forward to the edge of the cliff, and threw them some wild +geranium and ragwort. Then she stood motionless in the bright sunlight, +looking down the shingle towards the pier and the little tavern, from +which came, in drowsy tones, the rough monotonous songs which seamen +delight to sing--songs, full of the complaining of the sea, interpreted +by the hoarse, melancholy voices of sea faring men. + +Standing thus in the clear light, her great beauty was not to be +denied. She was tall and not too slender; and at this moment, the set +of her head was like that of a thoroughbred horse, when it pricks its +ears to listen. She had soft brown eyes, with long lashes and heavy +eyebrows--eyes, reflecting the lances of light that darted in and out +of the shifting clouds--an open air complexion, dazzling, even teeth, +an abundance of dark, rippling hair, and a flush of ardent life opening +her wide nostrils, and stirring gently the exquisite mould of her +throat and bust. The moral impression she gave was that of a pure, +strong, compassionate woman; cool-headed, but not cold; capable of +vigorous joys and griefs. + +After a few minutes' investigation, she went back to the cottage, and +stood in the open doorway, with her head leaning against the lintel. +Her mother had begun to prepare the evening meal; fresh fish were +frying on the fire, and the oat cakes toasting before it. Yet, as she +moved rapidly about, she was watching her daughter and very soon she +gave words to the thoughts troubling and perplexing her motherly +speculations. + +"Christina," she said, "you'll not require to be looking for Andrew. +The lad is ben the house; he has been asleep ever since he eat his +dinner." + +"I know that, Mother." + +"Well then, if it is Jamie Logan, let me tell you it is a poor +business. I have a fear and an inward down-sinking anent that young +man." + +"Perfect nonsense, Mother! There is nothing to fear you about Jamie." + +"What good ever came through folk saved from the sea? Tell me that, +Christina! They bring sorrow back with them. That is a fact none will +deny." + +"What could Andrew do but save the lad?" + +"Why was the lad running before such a sea? He should have got into +harbour; there was time enough. And if it was Andrew's duty to save +him, it is not your duty to be loving him. You may take that much sense +from me, anyway." + +"_Whist, Mother_! He has not said a word of love to me." + +"He perfectly changes colours every time he sees you, and why so, if it +be not for love of you? I am not liking the look of the thing, +Christina, and your brother is not liking it; and if you don't take +care of yourself, you'll be in a burning fever of first love, and +beyond all reasoning. Even now, you are making yourself a speculation +to the whole village." + +"Jamie is a straight-forward lad. I'm thinking he would lay his life +down for me." + +"I thought he had not said a word of love to you." + +"A girl knows some things that are not told her." + +"Very fine; but it will not be the fashion now to lie down and die for +Annie Laurie, or any other lass. A young man who wants a wife must +bustle around and get siller to keep her with. Getting married, these +days is not a thing to make a song about. You are but a young thing +yet, Christina, and you have much to learn." + +"Would you not like to be young again, Mother?" + +"No, I would not! I would not risk it. Besides, it would be going back; +and I want to go forward and upward. But you need not try to turn the +talk from Jamie Logan that way. I'll say again what I said before, you +will be in a fever of first love, and not to be reasoned with, if you +don't take care of yourself." + +The girl flushed hotly, came into the house, and began to re-arrange +the teacups with a nervous haste; for she heard Jamie's steps on the +rocky road, and his voice, clear as a blackbird's, whistling gayly "In +the Bay of Biscay O!" + +"The teacups are all right, Christina. I am talking anent Jamie Logan. +The lad is just a temptation to you; and you will require to ask for +strength to be kept out of temptation; for the Lord knows, the best of +us don't expect strength to resist it." + +Christina turned her face to her mother, and then left her answer to +Jamie Logan. For he came in at the moment with a little tartan shawl in +his hand, which he gallantly threw across the shoulders of Mistress +Binnie. + +"I have just bought it from a peddler loon," he said. "It is bonnie and +soft, and it sets you well, and I hope you will pleasure me by wearing +it." + +His face was so bright, his manner so charming, that it was impossible +for Janet Binnie to resist him. "You are a fleeching, flattering +laddie," she answered; but she stroked and fingered the gay kerchief, +while Christina made her observe how bright were the colours of it, and +how neatly the soft folds fell around her. Then the door of the inner +room opened, and Andrew came sleepily out. + +"The fish is burning," he said, "and the oat cakes too; for I am +smelling them ben the house;" and Janet ran to her fireside, and +hastily turned her herring and cakes. + +"I'm feared you won't think much of your meat to-night," she said +regretfully; "the tea is fairly ruined." + +"Never mind the meat, Mother," said Andrew. "We don't live to eat." + +"Never mind the meat, indeed! What perfect nonsense! There is something +wrong with folk that don't mind their meat." + +"Well then, you shouldn't be so vain of yourself, Mother. You were +preening like a young girl when I first got sight of you--and the meat +taking care of itself." + +"Me, vain! No! No! Nobody that knows Janet Binnie can ever say she is +vain. I wot well that I am a frail, miserable creature, with little +need of being vain, either for myself or my children. You are a great +hand at arguing, Andrew, but you are always in the wrong. But draw to +the table and eat. I'll warrant the fish will prove better than it is +bonnie." + +They sat down with a pleasant content that soon broadened into mirth +and laughter, as Jamie Logan began to tell and to show how the peddler +lad had fleeched and flethered the fisher wives out of their bawbees; +adding at the last "that he could not come within sight of their fine +words, they were that civil to him." + +"Senselessly civil, no doubt of it," answered Janet. "A peddler aye +gives the whole village a fit of the liberalities. The like of Jean +Robertson spending a crown on him! Foolish woman, the words are not to +seek that she'll get from me in the morning." + +Then Jamie took a letter from his pocket, and showed it to Andrew +Binnie. "Robert Toddy brought it this morning," he said, "and, as you +may see, it is from the firm of Henderson Brothers, Glasgow; and they +say there will be a berth for me very soon now in one of their ships. +And their boats are good, and their captains good, and there is chances +for a fine sailor on that line. I may be a captain myself one of these +days!" and he laughed so gayly, and looked so bravely into the face of +such a bold idea, that he persuaded every one else to expect it for +him. Janet pulled her new shawl a little closer and smiled, and her +thought was: "After all, Christina may wait longer, and fare worse; for +she is turned twenty." Yet she showed a little reserve as she asked:-- + +"Are you then Glasgow-born, Jamie?" + +"Me! Glasgow-born! What are you thinking of? I am from the auld East +Neuk; and I am glad and proud of being a Fifer. All my common sense +comes from Fife. There is none loves the 'Kingdom' more than I, Jamie +Logan. We are all Fife together. I thought you knew it." + +At these words there was a momentary shadow across the door, and a +little lassie slipped in; and when she did so, all put down their cups +to welcome her. Andrew reddened to the roots of his hair, his eyes +filled with light, a tender smile softened his firm mouth, and he put +out his hand and drew the girl to the chair which Christina had pushed +close to his own. + +"You are welcome, and more than welcome, Sophy," said the Mistress; but +for all that, she gave Sophy a glance in which there was much +speculation not unmixed, with fear and disapproval. For it was easy to +see that Andrew Binnie loved her, and that she was not at all like him, +nor yet like any of the fisher-girls of Pittendurie. Sophy, however, +was not responsible for this difference; for early orphanage had placed +her in the care of an aunt who carried on a dress and bonnet making +business in Largo, and she had turned the little fisher-maid into a +girl after her own heart and wishes. + +Sophy, indeed, came frequently to visit her people in Pittendurie; but +she had gradually grown less and less like them, and there was no +wonder Mistress Binnie asked herself fearfully, "what kind of a wife at +all Sophy would make for a Fife fisherman?" She was so small and genty, +she had such a lovely face, such fair rippling hair, and her gown was +of blue muslin made in the fashion of the day, and finished with a lace +collar round her throat, and a ribbon belt round her slender waist. + +"A bonnie lass for a carriage and pair," thought Janet Binnie; "but +whatever will she do with the creel and the nets? not to speak of the +bairns and the housework?" + +Andrew was too much in love to consider these questions. When he was +six years old, he had carried Sophy in his arms all day long; when he +was twelve, they had paddled on the sands, and fished, and played, and +learned their lessons together. She had promised then to be his wife as +soon as he had a house and a boat of his own; and never for one moment +since had Andrew doubted the validity and certainty of this promise. To +Andrew, and to Andrew's family, and to the whole village of +Pittendurie, the marriage of Andrew Binnie and Sophy Traill was a fact +beyond disputing. Some said "it was the right thing," and more said "it +was the foolish thing," and among the latter was Andrew's mother; +though as yet she had said it very cautiously to Andrew, whom she +regarded as "clean daft and senselessly touchy about the girl." + +But she sent the young people out of the house while she redd up the +disorder made by the evening meal; though, as she wiped her teacups, +she went frequently to the little window, and looked at the four +sitting together on the bit of turf which carpeted the top of the cliff +before the cottage. Andrew, as a privileged lover, held Sophy's hand; +Christina sat next her brother, and facing Jamie Logan, so it was easy +to see how her face kindled, and her manner softened to the charm of +his merry conversation, his snatches of breezy sea-song, and his clever +bits of mimicry. And as Janet walked to and fro, setting her cups and +plates in the rack, and putting in place the tables and chairs she did +what we might all do more frequently and be the wiser for it--she +talked to herself, to the real woman within her, and thus got to the +bottom of things. + +In less than an hour there began to be a movement about the pier, and +then Andrew and Jamie went away to their night's work; and the girls +sat still and watched the men across the level sands, and the boats +hurrying out to the fishing grounds. Then they went back to the +cottage, and found that Mistress Binnie had taken her knitting and gone +to chat with a crony who lived higher up the cliff. + +"We are alone, Sophy" said Christina; "but women folk are often that." +She spoke a little sadly, the sweet melancholy of conscious, but +unacknowledged love being heavy in her heart, and she would not have +been sorry, had she been quite alone with her vaguely happy dreams. +Neither of the girls was inclined to talk, but Christina wondered at +Sophy's silence, for she had been unusually merry while the young men +were present. + +Now she sat quiet on the door step, clasping her left knee with little +white hands that had no sign of labour on them but the mark of the +needle on the left forefinger. At her side, Christina stood, her tall +straight figure fittingly clad in a striped blue and white linsey +petticoat, and a little josey of lilac print, cut low enough to show +the white, firm throat above it. Her fine face radiated thought and +feeling; she was on the verge of that experience which glorifies the +simplest life. The exquisite glooming, the tender sky, the full heaving +sea, were all in sweetest sympathy; they were sufficient; and Sophy's +thin, fretful voice broke the charm and almost offended her. + +"It is a weary life, Christina. How do you thole it?" + +"You are just talking, Sophy. You were happy enough half an hour +since." + +"I wasn't happy at all." + +"You let on like you were. I should think you would be as fear'd to act +a lie, as to tell one." + +"I'll be going away from Pittendurie in the morning." + +"What for?" + +"I have my reasons." + +"No doubt you have a 'because' of your own. But what will Andrew say? +He is not expecting you to leave to-morrow." + +"I don't care what Andrew says." + +"Sophy Traill!" + +"I don't. Andrew Binnie is not the whole of life to me." + +"Whatever is the matter with you?" + +"Nothing." + +Then there was a pause, and Christina's thoughts flew seaward. In a few +minutes, however, Sophy began talking again. "Do you go often into +Largo, Christina?" she asked. + +"Whiles, I take myself that far. You may count me up for the last year; +for I sought you every time." + +"Ay! Do you mind on the road a real grand house, fine and old, with a +beautiful garden and peacocks in it--trailing their long feathers over +the grass and gravel?" + +"You will be meaning Braelands? Folks could not miss the place, even if +they tried to." + +"Well then, did you ever notice a young man around? He is always +dressed for the saddle, or else he is in the saddle, and so most sure +to have a whip in his hand." + +"What are you talking about? What is the young man to you?" + +"He is brawly handsome. They call him Archie Braelands." + +"I have heard tell of him. And by what is said, I should not think he +was an improving friend for any good girl to have." + +"This, or that, he likes me. He likes me beyond everything." + +"Do you know what you are saying, Sophy Traill?" + +"I do, fine." + +"Are you liking him?" + +"It would not be hard to do." + +"Has he ever spoke to you?" + +"Well, he is not as shy as a fisher-lad. I find him in my way when I'm +not thinking. And see here, Christina; I got a letter from him this +afternoon. A real love letter! Such lovely words! They are like poetry; +they are as sweet as singing." + +"Did you tell Andrew this?" + +"Why would I do that?" + +"You are a false little cutty, then. I would tell Andrew myself, but I +am loath to hurt his true heart. Now you are to let Archie Braelands +alone, or I will know the reason why." + +"Preserve us all! What a blazing passion for nothing at all! Can't a +lassie chat with a lad for a half hour without calling a court of +sessions about it?" and she rose and shook out her dress, saying with +an air of offence:-- + +"You may tell Andrew, if you like to. It would be a very poor thing if +a girl is to be miscalled every time a man told her she was pretty." + +"I'm not saying any woman can help men making fools of themselves; but +you should have told Braelands that you were all the same as married, +being promised so long to Andrew Binnie. And you ought to have told +Andrew about the letter." + +"Everybody can't live in Pittendurie, Christina. And if you live with a +town full of folk, you cannot go up and down, saying to every man you +meet, 'please, sir, I have a lad of my own, and you are not to cast a +look at me, for Andrew Binnie would not like it." + +"Hold your tongue, Sophy, or else know what you are yattering about. I +would think shame to talk so scornful of the man I was going to marry." + +"You can let it go for a passing remark. And if I have said anything to +vex you, we are old friends, Christina, and it is not a lad that will +part us. Sophy requires a deal of forgiving." + +"She does," said Christina with a smile; "so I just forgive her as I go +along, for she is still doing something out of the way. But you must +not treat Andrew ill. I could not love you, Sophy, if you did the like +of that. And you must always tell me everything about yourself, and +then nothing will go far wrong." + +"Even that. I am not given to lying unless it is worth my while. I'll +tell you aught there is to tell. And there is a kiss for Andrew, and +you may say to him that I would have told him I was going back to Largo +in the morning, only that I cannot bear to see him unhappy. That a +message to set him on the mast-head of pride and pleasure." + +"I will give Andrew the kiss and the message, Sophy. And you take my +advice, and keep yourself clear of that young Braelands. I am +particular about my own good name, and I mean to be particular about +yours." + +"I have had your advice already, Christina." + +"Well, this is a forgetful world, so I just mention the fact again." + +"All the same, you might remember, Christina, that there was once a +woman who got rich by minding her own business;" and with a laugh, the +girl tied her bonnet under her chin, and went swiftly down the cliff +towards the village. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +CHRISTINA AND ANDREW + + +This confidence greatly troubled Christina; and as Sophy crossed the +sands and vanished into the shadows beyond, a strange, sad presentiment +of calamity oppressed her heart. Being herself in the enthusiasm of a +first love, she could not conceive such treachery possible as Sophy's +word seemed to imply. The girl had always been petted, and yet +discontented with her situation; and had often made complaints which +had no real foundation, and which in brighter moods she was likely to +repudiate. And this night Andrew, instead of her Aunt Kilgour, was the +object of her dissatisfaction--that would be all. To-morrow she would +be complaining to Andrew of her aunt's hard treatment of her, and +Andrew would be whispering of future happiness in her ears. + +Upon the whole, therefore, Christina thought it would be cruel and +foolish to tell her brother a word of what Sophy had said. Why should +she disturb his serene faith in the girl so dear to him, until there +was some more evident reason to do so? He was, as his mother said, +"very touchy" about Sophy, being well aware that the village did not +approve of the changes in her dress, and of those little reluctances +and reserves in her behaviour, which had sprung up inevitably amid the +refinements and wider acquaintances of town life. + +"And so many things happen as the clock goes round," she thought. +"Braelands may say or do something that will put him out of favour. Or +he may take himself off to a foreign country--he is gey fond of France +and Germany too--and Goodness knows he will never be missed in +Fifeshire. Or _them behind_ may sort what flesh and blood cannot +manage; so I will keep a close mouth anent the matter. One may think +what one dare not say; for words, once spoken, cannot be wiped out with +a sponge--and more's the pity!" + +Christina had also reached a crisis in her own life,--a crisis so +important, that it quite excused the apparent readiness with which she +dismissed Sophy's strange confidence. For the feeling between Jamie +Logan and herself had grown to expression, and she was well aware that +what had hitherto been in a large measure secret and private to +themselves, had this night become evident to others. And she was not +sure how Jamie would be received. Andrew had saved his life in a sudden +storm, and brought him to the Binnie cottage until he should be able to +return to his own place. But instead of going away, he had hired his +time for the herring season to a Pittendurie fisherman; and every spare +hour had found him at the Binnie cottage, wooing the handsome +Christina. + +The village was not unanimously in his favour. No one could say +anything against Jamie Logan; but he was a stranger, and that fact was +hard to get over. A man must serve a very strict and long probation to +be adopted into a Fife fishing community, and it was considered "very +upsetting" for an unkent man to be looking up to the like of Christina +Binnie,--a lass whose forbears had been in Pittendurie beyond the +memory or the tradition of its inhabitants. + +Janet also was not quite satisfied; and Christina knew this. She +expected her daughter to marry a fisherman, but at least one who owned +his share in a good boat, and who had a house to take a wife to. This +strange lad was handsome and good-tempered; but, as she reflected, and +not unfrequently said, "good looks and a laugh and a song, are not +things to lippen to for housekeeping." So, on the whole, Christina had +just the same doubts and anxieties as might trouble a fine lady of +family and wealth, who had fallen in love with some handsome fellow +whom her relatives were uncertain about favouring. + +A week after Sophy's visit, however, Jamie found the unconquerable hour +in which every true love comes to its blossoming. It was the Sabbath +night, and a great peace was over the village. The men sat at their +doors talking in monosyllables to their wives and mates; the children +were asleep; and the full ocean breaking and tinkling upon the shingly +coast. They had been at kirk together in the afternoon, and Jamie had +taken tea with the Binnies after the service. Then Andrew had gone to +see Sophy, and Janet to help a neighbour with a sick husband; so Jamie, +left with Christina, had seized gladly his opportunity to teach her the +secret of her own heart. + +Sitting on the lonely rocks, with the moonlit sea at their feet, they +had confessed to each other how sweet it was to love. And the plans +growing out of this confession, though humble enough, were full of +strange hope and happy dreaming to Christina. For Jamie had begged her +to become his wife as soon as he got his promised berth on the great +Scotch line, and this event would compel her to leave Pittendurie and +make her home in Glasgow,--two facts, simply stupendous to the +fisher-girl, who had never been twenty miles from her home, and to whom +all life outside the elementary customs of Pittendurie was wonderful +and a little frightsome. + +But she put her hand in Jamie's hand, and felt his love sufficient for +whatever love might bring or demand. Any spot on earth would be heaven +to her with him, and for him; and she told him so, and was answered as +women love to be answered, with a kiss that was the sweetness and +confidence of all vows and promises. Among these simple, +straight-forward people, there are no secrecies in love affairs; and +the first thing Jamie did was to return to the cottage with Christina +to make known the engagement they had entered into. + +They met Andrew on the sands. He had been disappointed. Sophy had gone +out with a friend, and her aunt had seemed annoyed and had not asked +him to wait. He was counting up in his mind how often this thing had +happened lately, and was conscious of an unhappy sense of doubt and +unkindness which was entirely new to him. But when Christina stepped to +his side, and Jamie said frankly, "Andrew, your dear sweet sister loves +me, and has promised to be my wife, and I hope you will give us the +love and favour we are seeking," Andrew looked tenderly into his +sister's face, and their smiles met and seemed to kiss each other. And +he took her hand between his own hands, and then put it into Jamie's. + +"You shall be a brother to me, Jamie," he said; "and we will stand +together always, for the sake of our bonnie Christina." And Jamie could +not speak for happiness; but the three went forward with shining eyes +and linked hands, and Andrew forgot his own fret and disappointment, in +the joy of his sister's betrothal. + +Janet came home as they sat in the moonlight outside the cottage. "Come +into the house," she cried, with a pretense of anger. "It is high time +for folk who have honest work for the morn to be sleeping. What hour +will you get to the week's work, I wonder, Christina? If I leave the +fireside for a minute or two, everything stops but daffing till I get +back again. What for are you sitting so late?" + +"There is a good reason, Mother!" said Andrew, as he rose and with +Jamie and Christina went into the cottage. "Here is our Christina been +trysting herself to Jamie, and I have been giving them some good +advice." + +"Good advice!" laughed Janet. "Between you and Jamie Logan, it is the +blind leading the blind, and nothing better. One would think there was +no other duty in life than trysting and marrying. I have just heard +tell of Flora Thompson and George Buchan, and now it is Christina +Binnie and Jamie Logan. The world is given up, I think, to this weary +lad and lass business." + +But Janet's words belied her voice and her benign face. She was really +one of those delightful women who are "easily persuaded," and who +readily accept whatever is, as right. For she had naturally one of the +healthiest of human souls; besides which, years had brought her that +tender sagacity and gentleness, which does not often come until the +head is gray and the brow furrowed. So, though her words were fretful, +they were negatived by her beaming smile, and by the motherly fashion +in which she drew Christina to her side and held out her hand to Jamie. + +"You are a pair of foolish bairns," she said; "and you little know what +will betide you both." + +"Nothing but love and happiness, Mother," answered Jamie. + +"Well, well! look for good, and have good. I will not be one to ask +after evil for you. But mind one thing, Jamie, you are marrying a +woman, and not an angel. And, Christina, if you trust to any man, don't +expect over much of him; the very best of them will stumble once in a +while." + +Then she drew forward the table, and put on the kettle and brewed some +toddy, and set it out with toasted cake and cheese, and so drank, with +cheerful moderation, to the health and happiness of the newly-promised +lovers. And afterwards "the books" were opened, and Andrew, who was the +priest of the family, asked the blessing of the Infinite One on all its +relationships. Then the happiness that had been full of smiles and +words became too deep for such expression, and they clasped hands and +kissed each other "good night" in a silence, that was too sweetly +solemn and full of feeling for the translation of mere language. + +Before the morning light, Mistress Binnie had fully persuaded herself +that Christina was going to make an unusually prosperous marriage. All +her doubts had fled. Jamie had spoken out like a man, he had the best +of prospects, and the wedding was likely to be something beyond a +simple fisherman's bridal. She could hardly wait until the day's work +was over, and the evening far enough advanced for a gossiping call on +her crony, Marget Roy. Last night she had fancied Marget told her of +Flora Thompson's betrothal with an air of pity for Christina; there was +now a delightful retaliation in her power. But she put on an expression +of dignified resignation, rather than one of pleasure, when she made +known the fact of Christina's approaching marriage. + +"I am glad to hear tell of it," said Marget frankly. "Christina will +make a good wife, and she will keep a tidy house, I'll warrant her." + +"She will, Marget. And it is a very important thing; far more so than +folks sometimes think. You may put godliness into a woman after she is +a wife, but you can not put cleanliness; it will have to be born in +her." + +"And so Jamie Logan is to have a berth from the Hendersons? That is far +beyond a place in Lowrie's herring boats." + +"I'm thinking he just stopped with Lowrie for the sake of being near-by +to Christina. A lad like him need not have spent good time like that." + +"Well, Janet, it is a good thing for your Christina, and I am glad of +it." + +"It is;" answered Janet, with a sigh and a smile. "The lad is sure to +get on; and he's a respectable lad--a Fifer from Kirkcaldy--handsome +and well-spoken of; and I am thinking the _Line_ has a big bargain in +him, and is proud of it. Still, I'm feared for my lassie, in such an +awful, big, wicked-like town as Glasgow." + +"She'll not require to take the whole town in. She will have her Bible, +and her kirk, and her own man. There is nothing to fear you. Christina +has her five senses." + +"No doubt. And she is to have a floor of her own and all things +convenient; so there is comfort and safety in the like of that." + +"What for are you worrying yourself then?" + +"There's contingencies, Marget,--contingencies. And you know Christina +is my one lassie, and I am sore to lose her. But 'lack a day! we cannot +stop the clock. And marriage is like death--it is what we must all come +to." + +"Well Janet, your Christina has been long spared from it. She'll be +past twenty, I'm thinking." + +"Christina has had her offers, Marget. But what will you? We must all +wait for the right man, or go to the de'il with the wrong one." + +Thus the conversation went on, until Janet had exhausted all the +advantages and possibilities that were incident to Christina's good +fortune. And perhaps it was out of a little feeling of weariness of the +theme, that Marget finally reminded her friend that she would be +"lonely enough wanting her daughter," adding, "I was hearing too, that +Andrew is not to be kept single much longer; and it will be what no one +expects if Sophy Traill ever fills Christina's shoes." + +"Sophy is well enough," answered Janet with a touch of pride. "She +suits Andrew, and it is Andrew that has to live with her." + +"And you too, Janet?" + +"Not I! Andrew is to build his own bigging. I have the life rent of +mine. But I shall be a deal in Glasgow myself. Jamie has his heart +fairly set on that." + +She made this statement with an air of prideful satisfaction that was +irritating to Mistress Roy; and she was not inclined to let Janet enter +anew into a description of all the fine sights she was to see, the +grand guns of preachers she was to hear, and the trips to Greenock and +Rothesay, which Jamie said "would just fall naturally in the way of +their ordinary life." So Marget showed such a hurry about her household +affairs as made Janet uncomfortable, and she rose with a little offence +and said abruptly:-- + +"I must be going. I have the kirkyard to pass; and between the day and +the dark it is but a mournful spot." + +"It is that," answered Marget. "Folks should not be on the road when +the bodiless walk. They might be in their way, and so get ill to +themselves." + +"Then good night, and good befall you;" but in spite of the +benediction, Janet felt nettled at her friend's sudden lack of +interest. + +"It was a spat of envy no doubt," she thought; "but Lord's sake! envy +is the most insinuating vice of the lot of them. It cannot behave +itself for an hour at a time. But I'm not caring! it is better to be +envied than pitied." + +These reflections kept away the thought and fear of the "bodiless," and +she passed the kirkyard without being mindful of their proximity; the +coming wedding, and the inevitable changes it would bring, filling her +heart with all kinds of maternal anxieties, which in solitude would not +be put aside for all the promised pride and _eclat_ of the event. As +she approached the cottage, she met Jamie and Christina coming down the +cliff-side together, and she cried, "Is that you, Jamie?" + +"As far as I know, it's myself, Mother," answered Jamie. + +"Then turn back, and I'll get you a mouthful of bread and cheese. +You'll be wanting it, no doubt; for love is but cold porridge to a man +that has to pull on the nets all night." + +"You have spoken the day after the fair, Mother," answered Jamie. +"Christina has looked well to me, and I am bound for the boats." + +"Well, well, your way be it." + +Then Christina turned back with her mother, and they went silently back +to the cottage, their hearts being busy with the new hopes and +happiness that had come into their hitherto uneventful lives. But +reticence between this mother and daughter was not long possible; they +were too much one to have reserves; and neither being sleepy, they soon +began to talk over again what they had discussed a hundred times +before--the wedding dress, and the wedding feast, and the napery and +plenishing Christina was to have for her own home. They sat on the +hearth, before the bit of fire which was always necessary in that +exposed and windy situation; but the door stood open, and the moon +filled the little room with its placid and confidential light. So it is +no wonder, as they sat talking and vaguely wondering at Andrew's +absence, Christina should tell her mother what Sophy had said about +Archie Braelands. + +Janet listened with a dour face. For a moment she was glad; then she +lifted the poker, and struck a block of coal into a score of pieces, +and with the blow scattered the unkind, selfish thoughts which had +sprung up in her heart. + +"It is what I expected," she answered. "Just what I expected, +Christina. A lassie dressed up in muslin, and ribbons, and artificial +roses, isn't the kind of a wife a fisherman wants--and sooner or +later, like goes to like. I am not blaming Sophy. She has tried hard to +be faithful to Andrew, but what then? Nothing happens for nothing; and +it will be a good thing for Andrew if Sophy leaves him; a good thing +for Sophy too, I'm thinking; and better _is_ better, whatever comes or +goes." + +"But Andrew will fret himself sorely." + +"He will; no doubt of that. But Andrew has a good heart, and a good +heart breaks bad fortune. Say nothing at all to him. He is wise enough +to guide himself; though God knows! even the wisest of men will have a +fool in his sleeve sometimes." + +"Would there be any good in a word of warning? Just to prepare him for +the sorrow that is on the road." + +"There would be no sense in the like of it. If Andrew is to get the +fling and the buffet, he will take it better from Sophy than from any +other body. Let be, Christina. And maybe things will take a turn for +the dear lad yet. Hope for it anyhow. Hope is as cheap as despair." + +"Folks will be talking anon." + +"They are talking already. Do you think that I did not hear all this +clash and clavers before? Lucky Sims, and Marget Roy, and every +fish-wife in Pittendurie, know both the beginning and the end of it. +They have seen this, and they have heard that, and they think the very +worst that can be; you may be sure of that." + +"I'm thinking no wrong of Sophy." + +"Nor I. The first calamity is to be born a woman; it sets the door open +for every other sorrow--and the more so, if the poor lassie is bonnie +and alone in the world. Sophy is not to blame; it is Andrew that is in +the fault." + +"How can you say such a thing as that, Mother?" + +"I'll tell you how. Andrew has been that set on having a house for his +wife, that he has just lost the wife while he was saving the siller for +the house. I have told him, and better told him to bring Sophy here; +but nothing but having her all to himself will he hear tell of. It is +pure, wicked selfishness in the lad! He simply cannot thole her to give +look or word to any one but himself. Perfect scand'lous selfishness! +That is where all the trouble has come from." + +"_Whist, Mother_! He is most at the doorstep. That is Andrew's foot, or +I am much mista'en." + +"Then I'll away to Lizzie Robertson's for an hour. My heart is knocking +at my lips, and I'll be saying what I would give my last bawbee to +unsay. Keep a calm sough, Christina." + +"You need not tell me that, Mother." + +"Just let Andrew do the talking, and you'll be all right. It is easy to +put him out about Sophy, and then to come to words. Better keep peace +than make peace." + +She lifted the stocking she was knitting, and passed out of one door as +Andrew came in at the other. He entered with that air of strength and +capability so dear to the women of a household. He had on his kirk +suit, and Christina thought, as he sat down by the open window, how +much handsomer he looked in his blue guernsey and fishing cap. + +"You'll be needing a mouthful and a cup of tea, Andrew?" she asked. + +Andrew shook his head and answered pleasantly, "Not I, Christina. I had +my tea with Sophy. Where is mother?" + +"She is gone to Lizzie Robertson's for an hour. Her man is yet very +badly off. She said she would sit with him till the night turned. +Lizzie is most worn out, I'm sure, by this time." + +"Where is Jamie?" + +"He said he was going to the fishing. He will have caught his boat, or +he would have been back here again by this hour." + +"Then we are alone? And like to be for an hour? eh, Christina?" + +"There will be no one here till mother comes at the turn of the night. +What for are you asking the like of them questions, Andrew?" + +"Because I have been seeking this hour. I have things to tell you, +Christina, that must never go beyond yourself; no, not even to mother, +unless the time comes for it. I am not going to ask you to give me your +word or promise. You are Christina Binnie, and that is enough." + +"I should say so. The man or woman who promises with an oath is not to +be trusted. There is you and me, and God for our witness. What ever you +have to say, the hearer and the witness is sufficient." + +"I know that. Christina, I have been this day to Edinburgh, and I have +brought home from the bank six hundred pounds." + +"Six hundred pounds, Andrew! It is not believable." + +"_Whist, woman!_ I have six hundred pounds in my breast pocket, and I +have siller in the house beside. I have sold my share in the +'_Sure-Giver_,' and I have been saving money ever since I put on my +first sea-boots." + +"I have always thought that saving money was your great fault, Andrew." + +"I know. I know it myself only too well. Many's the Sabbath day I have +been only a bawbee Christian, when I ought to have put a shilling in +the plate. But I just could not help it." + +"Yes, you could." + +"Tell me how, then." + +"Just try and believe that you are putting your collection into the +hand of God Almighty, and not into a siller plate. Then you will put +the shilling down and not the bawbee." + +"Perhaps. The thought is not a new one to me, and often I have forced +myself to give a white shilling instead of a penny-bit at the kirk +door, just to get the better of the de'il once in a while. But for all +that I know right well that saving siller is my besetting sin. However, +I have been saving for a purpose, and now I am most ready to take the +desire of my heart." + +"It is a good desire; I am sure of that, Andrew." + +"I think it is; a very good one. What do you say to this? I am going to +put all my siller in a carrying steamer--one of the Red-White fleet. +And more to it. I am to be skipper, and sail her from the North Sea to +London." + +"Will she be a big boat, Andrew?" + +"She will carry three thousand 'trunks' of fish in her ice chambers. +What do you think of that?" + +"I am perfectly dazzled and dumbfoundered with the thought of it. You +will be a man of some weight in the world, when that comes to pass." + +"I will be Captain Binnie, of the North Sea fleet, and Sophy will have +reason enough for her muslins, and ribbons, and trinkum-trankums--God +bless her!" + +"You are a far forecasting man, Andrew." + +"I have been able to clear my day and my way, by the help of +Providence, so far," said Andrew, with a pious reservation; "just as my +decent kirk-going father was before me. But that is neither here nor +there, and please God, this will be a monumental year in my life." + +"It will that. To get the ship and the wife you want, within its twelve +bounds, is a blessing beyond ordinary. I am proud to hear tell of such +good fortune coming your way, Andrew." + +"Ay; I knew you would. But I have the siller, and I have the skill, and +why shouldn't I lift myself a bit?" + +"And Sophy with you? Sophy will be an ornament to any place you lift +her to. And you may come to own a fishing fleet yourself some day, +Andrew!" + +"I am thinking of it," he answered, with the air of a man who feels +himself master of his destiny. "But come ben the house with me, +Christina. I have something to show you." + +So they went together into an inner room, and Andrew moved aside a +heavy chest of drawers which stood against the wall. Then he lifted a +short plank beneath them, and putting his arm far under the flooring, +he pulled forth a tin box. + +The key to it was in the leather purse in his breast pocket, and there +was a little tantalizing delay in its opening. But when the lid was +lifted, Christina saw a hoard of golden sovereigns, and a large roll of +Bank of England bills. Without a word Andrew added the money in his +pocket to this treasured store, and in an equal silence the flooring +and drawers were replaced, and then, without a word, the brother and +sister left the room together. + +There was however a look of exultation on Christina's face, and when +Andrew said "You understand now, Christina?" she answered in a voice +full of tender pride. + +"I have seen. And I am sure that Andrew Binnie is not the man to be +moving without knowing the way he is going to take." + +"I am not moving at all, Christina, for three months or perhaps longer. +The ship I want is in dry dock until the winter, and it is all this +wealth of siller that I am anxious about. If I should go to the fishing +some night, and never come back, it would be the same as if it went to +the bottom of the sea with me, not a soul but myself knowing it was +there." + +"But not now, Andrew. You be to tell me what I am to do if the like of +that should happen, and your wish will be as the law of God to me." + +"I am sure of that, Christina. Take heed then. If I should go out some +night and the sea should get me, as it gets many better men, then you +will lift the flooring, and take the money out of hiding. And you will +give Sophy Traill one half of all there is. The other half is for +mother and yourself. And you will do no other way with a single bawbee, +or the Lord will set His face against it." + +"I will do just what you tell me." + +"I know it. To think different, would be just incredible nonsense. That +is for the possibilities, Christina. For the days that are coming and +going, I charge you, Christina Binnie, never to name to mortal creature +the whereabouts of the money I have shown you." + +"Your words are in my heart, Andrew. They will never pass my lips." + +"Then that is enough of the siller. I have had a happy day with Sophy, +and O the grace of the lassie! And the sweet innocence and lovesomeness +of her pretty ways! She is budding into a very rose of beauty! I bought +her a ring with a shining stone in it, and a gold brooch, and a bonnie +piece of white muslin with the lace for the trimming of it; and the joy +of the little beauty set me laughing with delight. I would not call the +Queen my cousin, this night." + +"Sophy ought to love you with all her heart and soul, Andrew." + +"She does. She has arled her heart and hand to me. I thank _The Best_ +for this great mercy." + +"And you can trust her without a doubt, dear lad?" + +"I have as much faith in Sophy Traill, as I have in my Bible." + +"That is the way to trust. It is the way I trust Jamie. But you'll mind +how ready bad hearts and ill tongues are to give you a sense of +suspicion. So you'll not heed a word of that kind, Andrew?" + +"Not one. The like of such folk cannot give me a moment's +trouble--there was Kirsty Johnston--" + +"You may put Kirsty Johnston, and all she says to the wall." + +"I'm doing it; but she called after me this very evening, 'take care of +yourself, Andrew Binnie.' 'And what for, Mistress?' I asked. 'A beauty +is hard to catch and worse to keep,' she answered; and then the laugh +of her! But I didn't mind it, not I; and I didn't give her word or look +in reply; for well I know that women's tongues cannot be stopped, not +even by the Fourth Commandment." + +Then Andrew sat down and was silent, for a happiness like his is felt, +and not expressed. And Christina moved softly about, preparing the +frugal supper, and thinking about her lover in the fishing boats, +until, the table being spread, Andrew drew his chair close to his +sister's chair, and spreading forth his hands ere he sat down, said +solemnly;-- + +_"This is the change of Thy Right Hand, O Thou Most High! Thou art +strong to strengthen; gracious to help; ready to better; mighty to +save, Amen!"_ + +It was the prayer of his fathers for centuries--the prayer they had +used in all times of their joy and sorrow; the prayer that had grown in +his own heart from his birth, and been recorded for ever in the sagas +of his mother's people. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE AILING HEART + + +Not often in her life had Christina felt so happy as she did at this +fortunate hour. Two things especially made her heart sing for joy; one +was the fact that Jamie had never been so tender, so full of joyful +anticipation, so proud of his love and his future, as in their +interview of that evening. The very thought of his beauty and goodness +made her walk unconsciously to the door, and look over the sea towards +the fishing-grounds, where he was doubtless working at the nets, and +thinking of her. And next to this intensely personal cause of +happiness, was the fact that of all his mates, and even before his +mother or Sophy, Andrew had chosen _her_ for his confidant. She loved +her brother very much, and she respected him with an equal fervour. Few +men, in Christina's opinion, were able to stand in Andrew Binnie's +shoes, and she felt, as she glanced at his strong, thoughtful face, +that he was a brother to be very proud of. + +He sat on the hearth with his arms crossed above his head, and a sweet, +grave smile irradiating his strong countenance, Christina knew that he +was thinking of Sophy, and as soon as she had spread the frugal meal, +and they had sat down to their cakes and cheese, Andrew began to talk +of her. He seemed to have dismissed absolutely the thought of the +hidden money, and to be wholly occupied with memories of his love. And +as he talked of her, his face grew vivid and tender, and he spoke like +a poet, though he knew it not. + +"She is that sweet, Christina, it is like kissing roses to kiss her. +Her wee white hand on my red face is like a lily leaf. I saw it in the +looking-glass, as we sat at tea. And the ring, with the shining stone, +set it finely. I am the happiest man in the world, Christina!" + +"I am glad with all my heart for you, Andrew, and for Sophy too. It is +a grand thing to be loved as you love her." + +"She is the sweetness of all the years that are gone, and of all that +are to come." + +"And Sophy loves you as you love her? I hope she does that, my dear +Andrew." + +"She will do. She will do! no doubt of it, Christina! She is shy now, +and a bit frighted at the thought of marriage--she is such a gentle +little thing--but I will make her love me; yes I will! I will make her +love me as I love her. What for not?" + +"To be sure. Love must give and take equal, to be satisfied. I know +that myself. I am loving Jamie just as he loves me." + +"He is a brawly fine lad. Peddie was saying there wasn't a better +worker, nor a merrier one, in the whole fleet." + +"A good heart is always a merry one, Andrew." + +"I'm not doubting it." + +Thus they talked with kind mutual sympathy and confidence; and a +certain sweet serenity and glad composure spread through the little +room, and the very atmosphere was full of the peace and hope of +innocent love. But some divine necessity of life ever joins joy and +sorrow together; and even as the brother and sister sat speaking of +their happiness, Christina heard a footstep that gave her heart a +shock. Andrew was talking of Sophy, and he was not conscious of Jamie's +approach until the lad entered the house. His face was flushed, and +there was an air of excitement about him which Andrew regarded with an +instant displeasure and suspicion. He did not answer Jamie's greeting, +but said dourly:-- + +"You promised to take my place in the boat to-night, Jamie Logan; then +what for are you here, at this hour? I see one thing, and that is, you +cannot be trusted to." + +"I deserve a reproof, Andrew, for I have earned it," answered Jamie; +and there was an air of candid regret in his manner which struck +Christina, but which was not obvious to Andrew as he added, "I'll not +lie to you, anent the matter." + +"You needn't. Nothing in life is worth a lie." + +"That may be, or not be. But it was just this way. I met an old friend +as I was on my way to the boat, and he was poor, and hungry, and +thirsty, and I be to take him to the 'public,' and give him a bite and +a sup. Then the whiskey set us talking of old times and old +acquaintances, and I clean forgot the fishing; and the boats went away +without me. And that is all there is to it." + +"Far too much! Far too much! A nice lad you will be to trust to in a +big ship full of men and women and children! A glass of whiskey, and a +crack in the public house, set before your promised word and your duty! +How will I trust Christina to you? When you make Andrew Binnie a +promise, he expects you to keep it. Don't forget that! It may be of +some consequence to you if you are wanting his sister for a wife." + +With these words Andrew rose, went into his own room without a word of +good-night, and with considerable show of annoyance, closed and bolted +the door behind him. Jamie sat down by Christina, and waited for her to +speak. + +But it was not easy for her to do so. Try as she would, she could not +show him the love she really felt. She was troubled at his neglect of +duty, and so sorry that he, of all others, should have been the one to +cast the first shadow across the bright future which she had been +anticipating before his ill-timed arrival. It was love out of time and +season, and lacked the savour and spontaneity which are the result of +proper conditions. Jamie felt the unhappy atmosphere, and was offended. + +"I'm not wanted here, it seems," he said in a tone of injury. + +"You are wanted in the boat, Jamie; that is where the fault lies. You +should have been there. There is no outgait from that fact." + +"Well then, I have said I was sorry. Is not that enough?" + +"For me, yes. But Andrew likes a man to be prompt and sure in business. +It is the only way to make money." + +"Make money! I can make money among Andrew Binnie's feet, for all he +thinks so much of himself. A friend's claims are before money-making. +I'll stand to that, till all the seas go dry." + +"Andrew has very strict ideas; you must have found that out, Jamie, and +you should not go against them." + +"Andrew is headstrong as the north-wind. He goes clear o'er the bounds +both sides. Everything is the very worst, or the very best. I'm not +denying I was a bit wrong; but I consider I had a good excuse for it." + +"Is there ever a good excuse for doing wrong, Jamie? But we will let +the affair drop out of mind and talk. There are pleasanter things to +speak of, I'm sure." + +But the interview was a disappointment. Jamie went continually back to +Andrew's reproof, and Christina herself seemed to be under a spell. She +could not find the gentle words that would have soothed her lover, her +manner became chill and silent; and Jamie finally went away, much hurt +and offended. Yet she followed him to the door, and watched him kicking +the stones out of his path as he went rapidly down the cliff-side. And +if she had been near enough, she would have heard him muttering +angrily:-- + +"I'm not caring! I'm not caring! The moral pride of they Binnies is +ridic'lus! One would require to be a very saint to come within sight of +them." + +Such a wretched ending to an evening that had begun with so much hope +and love! Christina stood sadly at the open door and watched her lover +across the lonely sands, and felt the natural disappointment of the +circumstances. Then the moon began to rise, and when she noticed this, +she remembered how late her mother was away from home, and a slight +uneasiness crept into her heart. She threw a plaid around her head, and +was going to the neighbour's where she expected to find her, when Janet +appeared. + +She came up to the cliff slowly, and her face was far graver than +ordinary when she entered the cottage, and with a pious ejaculation +threw off her shawl. + +"What kept you at all, Mother? I was just going to seek you." + +"Watty Robertson has won away at last." + +"When did he die?" + +"He went away with the tide. He was called just at the turn. Ah, +Christina, it is loving and dying all the time! Life is love and death; +for what is our life? It is even a vapour that appeareth for a little +time, and then vanisheth away." + +"But Watty was well ready for the change, Mother?" + +"He went away with a smile. And I staid by poor Lizzie, for I have +drank of the same cup, and I know how bitter was the taste of it. Old +Elspeth McDonald stretched the corpse, and her and I had a change of +words; but Lizzie was with me." + +"What for did you clash at such a like time?" + +"She covered up his face, and I said: 'Stop your hand, Elspeth. Don't +you go to cover Watty's face now. He never did ill to any one while he +lived, and there's no need to hide his face when he is dead.' And we +had a bit stramash about it, for I can't abide to hide up the face that +is honest and well loved, and Lizzie said I was right, and so Elspeth +went off in a tiff." + +"I think there must be 'tiffs' floating about in the air to-night. +Jamie and Andrew have had a falling out, and Jamie went away far less +than pleased with me." + +"What's to do between them?" + +"Jamie met with an old friend who was hungry and thirsty, and he went +with him to the 'public' instead of going to the boat for Andrew, as he +promised to do. You know how Andrew feels about a word broken." + +"_Toots_! Andrew Binnie has a deal to learn yet. You should have told +him it was better to show mercy, than to stick at a mouthful of words. +Had you never a soft answer to throw at the two fractious fools?" + +"How could I interfere?" + +"Finely! If you don't know the right way to throw with a thrawn man, +like Andrew, and to come round a soft man, like Jamie, I'm sorry for +you! A woman with a thimble-full of woman-wit could ravel them both +up--ravel them up like a cut of worsteds." + +"Well, the day is near over. The clock will chap twelve in ten minutes, +and I'm going to my bed. I'm feared you won't sleep much, Mother. You +look awake to your instep." + +"Never mind. I have some good thoughts for the sleepless. Folks don't +sleep well after seeing a man with wife and bairns round him look death +and judgment in the face." + +"But Watty looked at them smiling, you said?" + +"He did. Watty's religion went to the bottom and extremity of things. +I'll be asking this night for grace to live with, and then I'll get +grace to die with when my hour comes. You needn't fash your heart about +me. Sleeping or waking, I am in His charge. Nor about Jamie; he'll be +all right the morn. Nor about Andrew, for I'll tell him not to make a +Pharisee of himself--he has his own failing, and it isn't far to seek." + +And it is likely Janet had her intended talk with her son, for nothing +more was said to Jamie about his neglect of duty; and the little cloud +was but a passing one, and soon blew over. Circumstances favoured +oblivion. Christina's love encompassed both her brother and her lover, +and Janet's womanly tact turned every shadow into sunshine, and +disarmed all suspicious or doubtful words. Also, the fishing season was +an unusually good one; every man was of price, and few men were better +worth their price than Jamie Logan. So an air of prosperity and +happiness filled each little cottage, and Andrew Binnie was certainly +saving money--a condition of affairs that always made him easy to live +with. + +As for the women of the village, they were in the early day up to their +shoulders in work, and in the more leisurely evenings, they had +Christina's marriage and marriage presents to talk about. The girl had +many friends and relatives far and near, and every one remembered her. +It was a set of china from an aunt in Crail, or napery from some +cousins in Kirkcaldy, or quilts from her father's folk in Largo, and so +on, in a very charming monotony. Now and then a bit of silver came, and +once a very pretty American clock. And there was not a quilt or a +tablecloth, a bit of china or silver, a petticoat or a ribbon, that the +whole village did not examine, and discuss, and offer their +congratulations over. + +Christina and her mother quite enjoyed this popular manifestation of +interest, and Jamie was not at all averse to the good-natured +familiarity. And though Andrew withdrew from such occasions, and +appeared to be rather annoyed than pleased by the frequent intrusion of +strange women, neither Janet nor Christina heeded his attitude very +much. + +"What for would we be caring?" queried the mother. "There is just one +woman in the world to Andrew. If it was Sophy's wedding-presents now, +he would be in a wonder over them! But he is not wanting you to marry +at all, Christina. Men are a selfish lot. Somehow, I think he has taken +a doubt or a dislike to Jamie. He thinks he isn't good enough for you." + +"He is as good as I want him. I'm feared for men as particular as +Andrew. They are whiles gey ill to live with. Andrew has not had a +smile for a body for a long time, and he has been making money. I +wonder if there is aught wrong between Sophy and himself." + +"You might away to Largo and ask after the girl. She hasn't been here +in a good while. And I'm thinking yonder talk she had with you anent +Archie Braelands wasn't all out of her own head." + +So that afternoon Christina put on her kirk dress, and went to Largo to +see Sophy. Her walk took her over a lonely stretch of country, though, +as she left the coast, she came to a lovely land of meadows, with here +and there waving plantations of young spruce or fir trees. Passing the +entrance to one of these sheltered spots, she saw a servant driving +leisurely back and forward a stylish dog-cart; and she had a sudden +intuition that it belonged to Braelands. She looked keenly into the +green shadows, but saw no trace of any human being; yet she had not +gone far, ere she was aware of light footsteps hurrying behind her, and +before she could realise the fact, Sophy called her in a breathless, +fretful way "to wait a minute for her." The girl came up flushed and +angry-looking, and asked Christina, "whatever brought her that far?" + +"I was going to Largo to see you. Mother was getting worried about you. +It's long since you were near us." "I am glad I met you. For I was +wearied with the sewing to-day, and I asked Aunt to let me have a +holiday to go and see you; and now we can go home together, and she +will never know the differ. You must not tell her but what I have been +to Pittendurie. My goodness! It is lucky I met you." + +"But where have you been, Sophy?" + +"I have been with a friend, who gave me a long drive." + +"Who would that be?" + +"Never you mind. There is nothing wrong to it. You may trust me for +that, Christina. I was fairly worn out, and Aunt hasn't a morsel of +pity. She thinks I ought to be glad to sew from Monday morning to +Saturday night, and I tell you it hurts me, and gives me a cough, and I +had to get a breath of sea-air or die for it. So a friend gave me what +I wanted." + +"But if you had come to our house, you could have got the sea-air +finely. Sophy! Sophy! I am misdoubting what you tell me. How came you +in the wood?" + +"We were taking a bit walk by ourselves there. I love the smell of the +pines, and the peace, and the silence. It rests me; and I didn't want +folks spying, and talking, and going with tales to Aunt. She ties me up +shorter than needs be now." + +"He was a mean fellow to leave you here all by yourself." + +"I made him do it. Goodness knows, he is fain enough to be seen by high +and low with me. But Andrew would not like it; he is that +jealous-natured--and I just _be_ to have some rest and fresh air." + +"Andrew would gladly give you both." + +"Not he! He is away to the fishing, or about his business, one way or +another, all the time. And I am that weary of stitch, stitch, +stitching, I could cry at the thought of it." + +"Was it Archie Braelands that gave you the drive?" + +"Ay, it was. Archie is just my friend, nothing more. I have told him, +and better told him, that I am to marry Andrew." + +"He is a scoundrel then to take you out." + +"He is nothing of the kind. He is just a friend. I am doing Andrew no +wrong, and myself a deal of good." + +"Then why are you feared for people seeing you?" + +"I am not feared. But I don't want to be the wonder and the talk of +every idle body. And I am not able to bear my aunt's nag, nag, nag at +me. I wish I was married. It isn't right of Andrew to leave me so much +to myself. It will be his own fault if he loses me altogether. I am +worn out with Aunt Kilgour, and my life is a fair weariness to me." + +"Andrew is getting everything brawly ready for you. I wish I could tell +you what grand plans he has for your happiness. Be true to Andrew, +Sophy, and you will be the happiest bride, and the best loved wife in +all Scotland." + +"Plans! What plans? What has he told you?" + +"I am not free to speak, Sophy. I should not have said a word at all. I +hope you will just forget I have." + +"Indeed I will not! I will make Andrew tell me his plans. Why should he +tell you, and not me? It is a shame to treat me that way, and he shall +hear tell of it." + +"Sophy! Sophy! I would as lief you killed me as told Andrew I had given +you a hint of his doings. He would never forgive me. I can no forgive +myself. Oh what a foolish, wicked woman I have been to say a word to +you!" and Christina burst into passionate weeping. + +"_Whist_! Christina; I'll never tell him, not I! I know well you +slipped the words to pleasure me. But giff-gaff makes us good friends, +and so you must just walk to the door with me and pass a word with my +aunt, and say neither this nor that about me, and I will forget you +ever said Andrew had such a thing as a 'plan' about me." + +The proposal was not to Christina's mind, but she was ready to face any +contingency rather than let Andrew know she had given the slightest +hint of his intentions. She understood what joy he had in the thought +of telling his great news to Sophy at its full time, and how angry he +would naturally feel at any one who interfered with his designs. In a +moment, without intention, with the very kindest of motives, she had +broken her word to her brother, and she was as miserable as a woman +could be over the unhappy slip. And Sophy's proposal added to her +remorse. It made her virtually connive at Sophy's intercourse with +Archie Braelands, and she felt herself to be in a great strait. In +order to favour her brother she had spoken hastily, and the swift +punishment of her folly was that she must now either confess her fault +or tacitly sanction a wrong against him. + +For the present, she could see no way out of the difficulty. To tell +Andrew would be to make him suspicious on every point. He would then +doubtless find some other hiding place for his money, and if any +accident did happen, her mother, and Sophy, and all Andrew loved, would +suffer for her indiscretion. She took Sophy's reiterated promise, and +then walked with the girl to her aunt's house. It was a neat stone +dwelling, with some bonnets and caps in the front window, and when the +door was opened, a bell rang, and Mistress Kilgour came hastily from an +inner room. She looked pleased when she saw Sophy and Christina, and +said:-- + +"Come in, Christina. I am glad you brought Sophy home in such good +time. For I'm in a state of perfect frustration this afternoon. Here's +a bride gown and bonnet to make, and a sound of more work coming." + +"Who is to be married, Miss Kilgour?" + +"Madame Kilrin of Silverhawes--a second affair, Christina, and she more +than middle-aged." + +"She is rich, though?" + +"That's it! rich, but made up of odds and ends, and but one eye to see +with: a prelatic woman, too, seeking all things her own way." + +"And the man? Who is he?" + +"He is a lawyer. Them gentry have their fingers in every pie, hot or +cold. However, I'm wishing them nothing but good. Madame is a constant +customer. Come, come, Christina, you are not going already?" + +"I am hurried to-night. Mistress Kilgour. Mother is alone. Andrew is +away to Greenock on business." + +"So you came back with Sophy. I am glad you did. There are some folks +that are o'er ready to take charge of the girl, and some that seem to +think she can take charge of herself. Oh, she knows fine what I mean!" +And Miss Kilgour pointed her fore-finger at Sophy and shook her head +until all the flowers in her cap and all the ringlets on her front hair +dangled in unison. + +Sophy had turned suddenly sulky and made no reply, and Miss Kilgour +continued: "It is her way always, when she has been to your house, +Christina. Whatever do you say to her? Is there anything agec between +Andrew and herself? Last week and the week before, she came back from +Pittendurie in a temper no saint could live with." + +"I'm so miserable. Aunt. I am miserable every hour of my life." + +"And you wouldn't be happy unless you were miserable, Sophy. Don't mind +her talk, Christina. Young things in love don't know what they want." + +"I am sick, Aunt." + +"You are in love, Sophy, and that is all there is to it. Don't go, +Christina. Have a cup of tea first?" + +"I cannot stop any longer. Good-bye, Sophy. I'll tell Andrew to come +and give you a walk to-morrow. Shall I?" + +"If you like to. He will not come until Sunday, though; and then he +will be troubled about walking on the Sabbath day. I'm not caring to go +out." + +"That is a lie, Sophy Traill!" cried her aunt. "It is the only thing +you do care about." + +"You had better go home, Christina," said Sophy, with a sarcastic +smile, "or you will be getting a share of temper that does not belong +to you. I am well used to it." + +Christina made an effort to consider this remark as a joke, and under +this cover took her leave. She was thankful to be alone with herself. +Her thoughts and feelings were in a tumult; she could not bring any +kind of reason out of their chaos. Her chagrin at her own folly was +sharp and bitter. It made her cry out against herself as she trod +rapidly her homeward road. Almost inadvertently, because it was the +shortest and most usual way, she took the route that led her past +Braelands. The great house was thrown open, and on the lawns was a +crowd of handsomely dressed men and women, drinking tea at little +tables set under the trees and among the shrubbery. Christina merely +glanced at the brave show of shifting colour, and passed more quickly +onward, the murmur of conversation and the ripple of laughter pursuing +her a little way, for the evening was warm and quiet. + +She thought of Sophy among this gay crowd, and felt the incongruity of +the situation, and a sense of anger sprung up in her breast at the +girl's wicked impatience and unfaithfulness. It had caused her also to +err, for she had been tempted by it to speak words which had been a +violation of her own promise, and yet which had really done no good. + +"She was always one of those girls that led others into trouble," she +reflected. "Many a scolding she has got me when I was a wee thing, and +to think that now! with the promise to Andrew warm on my lips, I have +put myself in her power! It is too bad! It is not believable!" + +She was glad when she came within sight of the sea; it was like a +glimpse of home. The damp, fresh wind with its strong flavour of brine +put heart into her, and the few sailors and fishers she met, with their +sweethearts on their arms and their blue shirts open at their throats, +had all a merry word or two to say to her. When she reached her home, +she found Andrew sitting at a little table looking over some papers +full of strange marks and columns of figures. His quick glance, and the +quiet assurance of his love contained in it, went sorely to her heart. +She would have fallen at his feet and confessed her unadvised admission +to Sophy gladly, but she doubted, whether it would be the kindest and +wisest thing to do. + +And then Janet joined them, and she had any number of questions to ask +about Sophy, and Christina, to escape being pressed on this subject, +began to talk with forced interest of Madame Kilrin's marriage. So, +between this and that, the evening got over without suspicion, and +Christina carried her miserable sense of disloyalty to bed and to sleep +with her--literally to sleep, for she dreamed all night of the +circumstance, and awakened in the morning with a heart as heavy as +lead. + +"But it is just what I deserve!" she said crossly to herself, as she +laced her shoes, "what need had I to be caring about Sophy Traill and +her whims? She is a dissatisfied lass at the best, and her love affairs +are beyond my sorting. Serves you right, Christina Binnie! You might +know, if anybody might, that they who put their oar into another's boat +are sure to get their fingers rapped. They deserve it too." + +However, Christina could not willingly dwell long on sorrowful +subjects. She was always inclined to subdue trouble swiftly, or else to +shake it away from her. For she lived by intuition, rather than by +reason; and intuition is born of, and fed by, home affection and devout +religion. Something too of that insight which changes faith into +knowledge, and which is the birthright of primitive natures, was hers, +and she divined, she knew not how, that Sophy would be true to her +promise, and not say a word which would lead Andrew to doubt her. And +so far she was right. Sophy had many faults, but the idea of breaking +her contract with Christina did not even occur to her. + +She wondered what plans Andrew had, and what good surprise he was +preparing for her, but she was in no special hurry to find it out. The +knowledge might bring affairs to a permanent crisis between her and +Andrew,--might mean marriage--and Sophy dreaded to face this question, +with all its isolating demands. Her "friendship" with Archie Braelands +was very sweet to her; she could not endure to think of any event which +must put a stop to it. She enjoyed Archie's regrets and pleadings. She +liked to sigh a little and cry a little over her hard fate; to be +sympathised with for it; to treat it as if she could not escape from +it; and yet to be nursing in her heart a passionate hope to do so. + +And after all, the process of reflection is unnatural and uncommon to +nine tenths of humanity; and so Christina lifted her daily work and +interests, and tried to forget her fault. And indeed, as the weeks went +on, she tried to believe it had been no fault, for Sophy was much +kinder to Andrew for some time; this fact being readily discernible in +Andrew's cheerful moods, and in the more kindly interest which he then +took in his home matters. + +"For it is well with us, when it is well with Sophy Traill, and we have +the home weather she lets us have," Janet often remarked. The assertion +had a great deal of truth in it. Sophy, from her chair in Mistress +Kilgour's workroom, greatly influenced the domestic happiness of the +Binnie cottage, even though they neither saw her, nor spoke her name. +But her moods made Andrew happy or miserable, and Andrew's moods made +Janet and Christina happy or miserable; so sure and so wonderful a +thing is human solidarity. Yes indeed! For what one of us has not known +some man or woman, never seen, who holds the thread of a destiny and +yet has no knowledge concerning it. This thought would make life a +desperate tangle if we did not also know that One, infinite in power +and mercy, guides every event to its predestined and its wisest end. + +For a little while after Christina's visit, Sophy was particularly kind +to Andrew; then there came a sudden change, and Christina noticed that +her brother returned from Largo constantly with a heavy step and a +gloomy face. Occasionally he admitted to her that he had been "sorely +disappointed," but as a general thing he shut himself in his room and +sulked as only men know how to sulk, till the atmosphere of the house +was tingling with suppressed temper, and every one was on the edge of +words that the tongue meant to be sharp as a sword. + +One morning in October, Christina met her brother on the sands, and he +said, "I will take the boat and give you a sail, if you like, +Christina. There is only a pleasant breeze." + +"I wish you would, Andrew," she answered. "This little northwester will +blow every weariful thought away." + +"I'm feared I have been somewhat cross and ill to do for, lately. +Mother says so." + +"Mother does not say far wrong. You have lost your temper often, +Andrew, and consequent your common sense. And it is not like you to be +unfair, not to say unkind; you have been that more than once, and to +two who love you dearly." + +Andrew said no more until they were on the bay, then he let the oars +drift, and asked:-- + +"What did you think of Sophy the last time you saw her? Tell me truly, +Christina." + +"Who knows aught about Sophy? She hardly knows her own mind. You cannot +tell what she is thinking about by her face, any more than you can tell +what she is going to do by her words. She is as uncertain as the wind, +and it has changed since you lifted the oars. Is there anything new to +fret yourself over?" + +"Ay, there is. I cannot get sight of her." + +"Are you twenty-seven years old, and of such a beggary of capacity as +not to be able to concert time and place to see her?" + +"But if she herself is against seeing me, then how am I going to +manage?" + +"What way did you find out that she was against seeing you?" + +"Whatever else could I think, when I get no other thing but excuses? +First, she was gone away for a week's rest, and Mistress Kilgour said I +had better not trouble her--she was that nervous." + +"Where did she go to?" + +"I don't believe she was out of her aunt's house. I am sure the postman +was astonished when I told him she was away, and her aunt's face was +very confused-like. Then when I went again she had a headache, and +could hardly speak a word to me; and she never named about the week's +holiday. And the next time there was a ball dress making; and the next +she had gone to the minister's for her 'token,' and when I said I would +go there and meet her, I was told not to think of such a thing; and so +on, and so on, Christina. There is nothing but put-offs and put-bys, +and my heart is full of sadness and fearful wonder." + +"And if you do see her, what then, Andrew?" + +"She is that low-spirited I do not know how to talk to her. She has +little to say, and sits with her seam, and her eyes cast down, and all +her pretty, merry ways are gone far away. I wonder where! Do you think +she is ill, Christina?" he asked drearily. + +"No, I do not, Andrew." + +"Her mother died of a consumption, when she was only a young thing, you +know." + +"That is no reason why Sophy should die of a consumption. Andrew, have +you ever told her what your plans are? Have you told her she may be a +lady and live in London if it pleases her? Have you told her that you +will soon be _Captain Binnie_ of the North Sea fleet?" + +"No, no! What for would I bribe the girl? I want her free given love. I +want her to marry plain Andrew Binnie. I will tell her everything the +very hour she is my wife. That is the joy I look forward to. And it is +right, is it not?" + +"No. It is all wrong. It is all wrong. Girls like men that have the +spirit to win siller and push their way in the world." + +"I cannot thole the thought of Sophy marrying me for my money." + +"You think o'er much of your money. Ask yourself whether in getting +money you have got good, or only gold. And about marrying Sophy, it is +not in your hand. Marriages are made in heaven, and unless there has +been a booking of your two names above, I am feared all your courting +below will come to little. Yet it is your duty to do all you can to win +the girl you want; and I can tell you what will win Sophy Traill, if +anything on earth will win her." Then she pointed out to him how fond +Sophy was of fine dress and delicate living; how she loved roses, and +violets, and the flowers of the garden, so much better than the pale, +salt blossoms of the sea rack, however brilliant their colours; how she +admired such a house as Braelands, and praised the glory of the +peacock's trailing feathers. "The girl is not born for a poor man's +wife," she continued, "her heart cries out for gold, and all that gold +can buy; and if you are set on Sophy, and none but Sophy, you will have +to win her with what she likes best, or else see some other man do so." + +"Then I will be buying her, and not winning her." + +"Oh you unspeakable man! Your conceit is just extraordinary! If you +wanted any other good thing in life, from a big ship to a gold ring, +would you not expect to buy it? Would your loving it, and wanting it, +be sufficient? Jamie Logan knew well what he was about, when he brought +us the letter from the Hendersons' firm. I love Jamie very dearly; but +I'm free to confess the letter came into my consideration." + +Talking thus, with the good wind blowing the words into his heart, +Christina soon inspired Andrew with her own ideas and confidence His +face cleared; he began to row with his natural energy; and as they +stepped on the wet sands together, he said almost joyfully:-- + +"I will take your advice, Christina. I will go and tell Sophy +everything." + +"Then she will smile in your face, she will put her hand in your hand; +maybe, she will give you a kiss, for she will be thinking in her heart, +'how brave and how clever my Andrew is.' And he will be taking me to +London and making me a lady!' and such thoughts breed love, Andrew. You +are well enough, and few men handsomer or better--unless it be Jamie +Logan--but it isn't altogether the man; it is what the man _can do_." + +"I'll go and see Sophy to-morrow." + +"Why not to-day?" + +"She is going to Mariton House to fit a dress and do some sewing. Her +aunt told me so." + +"If I was you, I would not let her sew for strangers any longer. Go and +ask her to marry you at once, and do not take 'no' from her." + +"Your words stir my heart to the bottom of it, and I will do as you +say, Christina; for Sophy has grown into my life, like my own folk, and +the sea, and the stars, and my boat, and my home. And if she will love +me the better for the news I have to tell her, I am that far gone in +love with her I must even put wedding on that ground. Win her I must; +or else die for her." + +"Win her, surely; die for her, nonsense! No man worth the name of man +would die because a woman wouldn't marry him. God has made more than +one good woman, more than one fair woman." + +"Only one woman for Andrew Binnie." + +"To be sure, if you choose to limit yourself in that way. I think +better of you. And as for dying for a woman, I don't believe in it." + +"Poor Matt Ballantyne broke his heart about Jessie Graham." + +"It was a very poor heart then. Nothing mends so soon as a good heart. +It trusts in the Omnipotent, and gets strength for its need, and then +begins to look around for good it can do, or make for others, or take +to itself. If Matt broke his heart for Jessie, Jessie would have been +poorly cared for by such a weak kind of a heart. She is better off with +Neil McAllister, no doubt." + +"You have done me good, Christina. I have not heard so many sound +observes in a long time." + +And with that Janet came to the cliff-top and called to them to hurry. +"Step out!" she cried, "here is Jamie Logan with a pocket full of great +news; and the fish is frying itself black, while you two are +daundering, as if it was your very business and duty to keep hungry +folk waiting their dinner for you." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE LAST OF THE WHIP + + +With a joyful haste Christina went forward, leaving her brother to +follow in more sober fashion. Jamie came to the cliff-top to meet her, +and Janet from the cottage door beamed congratulations and radiant +sympathy. + +"I have got my berth on the Line, Christina! I am to sail next Friday +from Greenock, so I'll start at once, my dearie! And I am the happiest +lad in Fife to-day!" + +He had his arms around her as he spoke, and he kissed her smiles and +glad exclamations off her lips before she could put them into words. +Then Andrew joined them, and after clasping hands with Jamie and +Christina, he went slowly into the cottage, leaving the lovers alone +outside. Janet was all excitement. + +"I'm like to greet with the good news, Andrew," she said, "it came so +unexpected Jamie was just daundering over the sands, kind of +down-hearted, he said, and wondering if he would stay through the +winter and fish with Peddle or not, when little Maggie Johnston cried +out, 'there is a big letter for you, Jamie Logan,' and he went and got +it, and, lo and behold! it was from the Hendersons themselves! And they +are needing Jamie now, and he'll just go at once, he says. There's luck +for you! I am both laughing and crying with the pride and the pleasure +of it!" + +"I wouldn't make such a fuss, anyway, Mother. It is what Jamie has been +looking for and expecting, and I am glad he has won to it at last." + +"Fuss indeed! Plenty of 'fuss' made over sorrow; why not over joy? And +if you think me a fool for it, I'm not sure but I might call you my +neighbour, if it was only Sophy Traill or her affairs to be 'fussed' +over." + +"Never mind Sophy, Mother. It is Jamie and Christina now, and Christina +knows her happiness is dear to me as my own." + +"Well then, show it, Andrew. Show it, my lad! We must do what we can to +put heart into poor Jamie; for when all is said and done, he is going +to foreign parts and leaving love and home behind." And she walked to +the door and looked at Jamie and Christina, who were standing on the +cliff-edge together, deeply engaged in a conversation that was of the +highest interest to themselves. "I have fancied you have been a bit shy +with Jamie since yon time he set an old friend before his promise to +you, Andrew; but what then?" + +"I wish Christina had married among our own folk. I have no wrong to +say in particular of Jamie Logan, but I think my sister might have made +her life with some good man a bit closer to her." + +"I thought, Andrew, that you were able to look sensibly at what comes +and goes. If it was a matter of business, you would be the first to see +the advantage of building your dyke with the stones you could get at. +And you may believe me or not, but there's a deal of the successful +work of this life carried through on that principle. Well, in marrying +it is just as wise. The lad you _can get_, is happen better than the +lad you _want_. Anyhow Christina is going to marry Jamie; and I'm sure +he is that loving and pleasant, and that fond of her, that I have no +doubt she will be happy as the day is long." + +"I hope it is the truth, Mother, that you are saying." + +"It is; but some folks won't see the truth, though they are dashing +their noses against it. None so blind as they who won't see." + +"Well, it isn't within my right to speak to-day." + +"Yes, it is. It is your right and place to speak all the good and +hopeful words you can think of. Don't be dour, Andrew. Man! man! how +hard it is to rejoice with them that do rejoice! It takes more +Christianity to do that than most folks carry around with them." + +"Mother, you are a perfectly unreasonable woman. You flyte at me, as if +I was a laddie of ten years old--but I'll not dare to say but what you +do me a deal of good;" and Andrew's face brightened as he looked at +her. + +"You would hardly do the right thing, if I didn't flyte at you, Andrew. +And maybe I wouldn't do it myself, if I was not watching you; having +nobody to scold and advise is very like trying to fly a kite without +wind. Go to the door and call in Jamie and Christina. We ought to take +an interest in their bit plans and schemes; and if we take it, we ought +to show we take it." + +Then Andrew rose and went to the open door, and as he went he laid his +big hand on his mother's shoulder, and a smile flew from face to face, +and in its light every little shadow vanished. And Jamie was glad to +bring in his promised bride, and among her own people as they eat +together, talk over the good that had come to them, and the changes +that were incident to it. And thus an hour passed swiftly away, and +then "farewells" full of love and hope, and laughter and tears, and +hand-clasping, and good words, were said; and Jamie went off to his new +life, leaving a thousand pleasant hopes and expectations behind him. + +After he was fairly out of sight, and Christina stood looking tearfully +into the vacancy where his image still lingered, Andrew led her to the +top of the cliff, and they sat down together. It was an exquisite +afternoon, full of the salt and sparkle of the sea; and for awhile both +remained silent, looking down on the cottages, and the creels, and the +drying nets. The whole village seemed to be out, and the sands were +covered with picturesque figures in sea-boots and striped hanging caps, +and with the no less picturesque companion figures in striped +petticoats. Some of the latter were old women, and these wore +high-crowned, unbordered caps of white linen; others were young women, +and these had no covering at all on their exuberant hair; but most of +them displayed long gold rings in their ears, and bright scarlet or +blue kerchiefs round their necks. Andrew glanced from these figures to +his sister; and touching her striped petticoat, he said:-- + +"You'll be changing this for what they call a gown, when you go to +Glasgow! How soon is that to be, Christina?" + +"When Jamie has got well settled in his place. It wouldn't be prudent +before." + +"About the New Year, say?" + +"Ay; about the New Year." + +"I am thinking of giving you a silk gown for your wedding." + +"O Andrew! if you would! A silk gown would set me up above every thing! +I'll never forget such a favour as that." + +"I'll do it." + +"And Sophy will see to the making of it. Sophy has a wonderful taste +about trimming, and the like of that. Sophy will stand up with me, and +you will be Jamie's best man; won't you, Andrew?" + +"Ay, Sophy will see to the making of it. Few can make a gown look as +she can. She is a clever bit thing"--then after a pause he added sadly, +"there was one thing I did not tell you this morning; but it is a +circumstance I feel very badly about." + +"What is it? You know well that I shall feel with you." + +"It is the way folks keep hinting this and that to me; but more, that I +am mistrusting Mistress Kilgour. I saw a young fellow standing at the +shop door talking to her the other morning very confidential-like--a +young fellow that could not have any lawful business with her." + +"What kind of a person was he?" + +"A large, dark man, dressed like a picture in a tailor's window. His +servant-man, in a livery of brown and yellow, was holding the horses in +a fine dog-cart. I asked Jimmy Faulds what his name was and he laughed +and said it was Braelands of Braelands, and he should think I knew it +and then he looked at me that queer, that I felt as if his eyes had +told me of some calamity. 'What is he doing at Mistress Kilgour's?' I +asked as soon as I could get myself together, and Jimmy answered, 'I +suppose he is ordering Madame Braelands' millinery,' and then he +snickered and laughed again, and I had hard lines to keep my hands from +striking him.' + +"What for at all?" + +"I don't know. I wish I did." + +"If I give you my advice, will you take it?" + +"I will." + +"Then for once--if you don't want Braelands to win Sophy from you--put +your lover's fears and shamefacedness behind your back. Just remember +who and what you are, and what you are like to be, and go and tell +Sophy everything, and ask her to marry you next Monday morning. Take +gold in your pocket, and buy her a wedding gift--a ring, or a brooch, +or some bonnie thing or other; and promise her a trip to Edinburgh or +London, or any other thing she fancies." + +"We have not been 'cried' yet. And the names must be read in the kirk +for three Sundays." + +"Oh man! Cannot you get a licence? It will cost you a few shillings, +but what of that? You are too slow, Andrew. If you don't take care, and +make haste, Braelands will run away with your wife before your very +eyes." + +"I'll not believe it. It could not be. The thing is unspeakable, and +unbearable. I'll face my fate the morn, and I'll know the best--or the +worst of what is coming to me." + +"Look for good, and have good, that is, if you don't let the good hour +go by. You, Andrew Binnie! that can manage a boat when the north wind +is doing its mightiest, are you going to be one of the cony kind, when +it comes to a slip of a girl like Sophy? I can not think it, for you +know what Solomon said of such--'Oh Son, it is a feeble folk.'" + +"I don't come of feeble folk, body nor soul; and as I have said, I will +have the whole matter out with Sophy to-morrow." + +"Good--but better _do_ than say." + +The next morning a swift look of intelligence passed between Andrew and +Christina at breakfast, and about eleven o'clock Andrew said, "I'll +away now to Largo, and settle the business we were speaking of, +Christina." She looked up at him critically, and thought she had never +seen a handsomer man. Though only a fisherman, he was too much a force +of nature to be vulgar. He was the incarnation of the grey, old +village, and of the North Sea, and of its stormy winds and waters. +Standing in his boots he was over six feet, full of pluck and fibre, a +man not made for the town and its narrow doorways, but for the great +spaces of the tossing ocean. His face was strong and finely formed; his +eyes grey and open--as eyes might be that had so often searched the +thickest of the storm with unquailing glance. A sensitive flush +overspread his brow and cheeks as Christina gazed at him, and he said +nervously:-- + +"I will require to put on my best clothes; won't I, Christina?" + +She laid her hand on his arm, and shook her head with a pleasant smile. +She was regarding with pride and satisfaction her brother's fine +figure, admirably shown in the elastic grace of his blue Guernsey. She +turned the collar low enough to leave his round throat a little bare, +and put his blue flannel _Tam o' Shanter_ over his close, clustering +curls. "Go as you are," she said. "In that dress you feel at home, and +at ease, and you look ten times the man you do in your broadcloth. And +if Sophy cannot like her fisher-lad in his fisher-dress, she isn't +worthy of him." + +He was much pleased with this advice, for it precisely sorted with his +own feelings; and he stooped and kissed Christina, and she sent him +away with a smile and a good wish. Then she went to her mother, who was +in a little shed salting some fish. "Mother," she cried, "Andrew has +gone to Largo." + +"Like enough. It would be stranger, if he had stopped at home." + +"He has gone to ask Sophy to marry him next week--next Monday." + +"Perfect nonsense! We'll have no such marrying in a hurry, and a +corner. It will take a full month to marry Andrew Binnie. What would +all our folks say, far and near, if they were not bid to the wedding? +Set to that, you have to be married first. Marrying isn't like +Christmas, coming every year of our Lord; and we _be_ to make the most +of it. I'll not give my consent to any such like hasty work. Why, they +are not even 'called' in the kirk yet." + +"Andrew can get a licence." + +"Andrew can get a fiddle-stick! None of the Binnies were ever married, +but by word of the kirk, and none of them shall be, if I can help it. +Licence indeed! Buying the right to marry for a few shillings, and the +next thing will be a few more shillings for the right to un-marry. I'll +not hear tell of such a way." + +"But, Mother, if Andrew does not get Sophy at once, he may lose her +altogether." + +"_Humph_! No great loss." + +"The biggest loss in the world that Andrew can have. Things are come to +a pass. If Andrew does not marry her at once, I am feared Braelands +will carry her off." + +"He is welcome to her." + +"No, no, Mother! Do you want Braelands to get the best of Andrew?" + +"The like of him get the best of Andrew! I'll not believe it. Sophy +isn't beyond all sense of right and feeling. If, after all these years, +she left Andrew for that fine gentleman, she would be a very Jael of +deceit and treachery. I wish I had told her about her mother's second +cousin, bonnie Lizzie Lauder." + +"What of her? I never heard tell, did I, Mother?" + +"No. We don't speak of Lizzie now." + +"Why then?" + +"She was very bonnie, and she was very like Sophy about hating to work; +and she was never done crying to all the gates of pleasure to open wide +and let her enter. And she went in." + +"Well, Mother? Is that all?" + +"No. I wish in God's mercy it was! The avenging gates closed on her. +She is shut up in hell. There, I'll say no more." + +"Yes, Mother. You will ask God's mercy for her. It never faileth." + +Janet turned away, and lifted her apron to her eyes, and stood so +silent for a few minutes. And Christina left her alone, and went back +into the house place, and began to wash up the breakfast-cups and cut +up some vegetables for their early dinner. And by-and-by her mother +joined her, and Christina began to tell how Andrew had promised her a +silk gown for her wedding. This bit of news was so wonderful and +delightful to Janet, that it drove all other thoughts far from her. She +sat down to discuss it with all the care and importance the subject +demanded. Every colour was considered; and when the colour had been +decided, there was then the number of yards and the kind of trimming to +be discussed, and the manner of its making, and the person most +suitable to undertake the momentous task. For Janet was at that hour +angry with Mistress Kilgour, and not inclined to "put a bawbee her +way," seeing that it was most likely she had been favouring Braeland's +suit, and therefore a bitter enemy to Andrew. + +After the noon meal, Janet took her knitting, and went to tell as many +of her neighbours as it was possible to see during the short afternoon, +about the silk gown her Christina was to be married in; and Christina +spread her ironing table, and began to damp, and fold, and smooth the +clean linen. And as she did so, she sang a verse or two of 'Hunting +Tower,' and then she thought awhile, and then she sang again. And she +was so happy, that her form swayed to her movements; it seemed to smile +as she walked backwards and forwards with the finished garments or the +hot iron in her hands. She was thinking of the happy home she would +make for Jamie, and of all the bliss that was coming to her. For before +a bird flies you may see its wings, and Christina was already pluming +hers for a flight into that world which in her very ignorance she +invested with a thousand unreal charms. + +She did not expect Andrew back until the evening. He would most likely +have a long talk with Sophy; there was so much to tell her, and when it +was over, it would be in a large measure to tell again to Mistress +Kilgour. Then it was likely Andrew would take tea with his promised +wife, and perhaps they might have a walk afterwards; so, calculating +all these things. Christina came to the conclusion that it would be +well on to bed time, before she knew what arrangements Andrew had made +for his marriage and his life after it. + +Not a single unpleasant doubt troubled her mind, she thought she knew +Sophy's nature so well; and she could hardly conceive it possible, that +the girl should have any reluctances about a lad so well known, so +good, and so handsome, and with such a fine future before him, as +Andrew Binnie. All Sophy's flights and fancies, all her favours to +young Braelands, Christina put down to the dissatisfaction Sophy so +often expressed with her position, and the vanity which arose naturally +from her recognised beauty and youthful grace. But to be "a settled +woman," with a loving husband and "a house of her own," seemed to +Christina an irresistible offer; and she smiled to herself when she +thought of Sophy's surprise, and of the many pretty little airs and +conceits the state of bridehood would be sure to bring forth in her +self-indulgent nature. + +"She will be provoking enough, no doubt," she whispered as she set the +iron sharply down; "but I'll never notice it. She is very little more +than a bairn, and but a canary-headed creature added to that. In a year +or two, Andrew, and marriage, and maybe motherhood, will sober and +settle her. And Andrew loves her so. Most as well as Jamie loves me. +For Andrew's sake, then, I'll bear with all her provoking ways and +words. She'll be _our own_, anyway, and we be to have patience with +they of our own household. Bonnie wee Sophy." + +It was about mid-afternoon when she came to this train of forbearing +and conciliating reflections. She was quite happy in it; for Christina +was one of those wise women, who do not look into their ideals and +hopes too closely. Her face reflecting them was beautiful and benign; +and her shoulders, and hands, her supple waist and limbs, continued the +symphonies of her soft, deep, loving eyes and her smiling mouth. Every +now and then she burst into song; and then her thrilling voice, so +sweet and fresh, had tones in it that only birds and good women full of +love may compass. Mostly the song was a lilt or a verse which spoke for +her own heart and love; but just as the clock struck three, she broke +into a low laugh which ended in a merry, mocking melody, and which was +evidently the conclusion of her argument concerning Sophy's behaviour +as Andrew's wife-- + +"Toot! toot! quoth the grey-headed father, + She's less of a bride than a bairn; +She's ta'en like a colt from the heather, + With sense and discretion to learn. + +"Half-husband I trow, and half daddy, + As humour inconstantly leans; +The man must be patient and steady, + That weds with a lass in her teens." + +She had hardly finished the verse, when she heard a step blending with +its echoes. Her ears rung inward; her eyes dilated with an unhappy +expectancy; she put down her iron with a sudden faint feeling, and +turned her face to the door. + +Andrew entered the cottage. He looked at her despairingly, and sinking +into his chair, he covered his wretched face with his hands. + +It was not the same man who had left her a few hours before. A change, +like that which a hot iron would make upon a green leaf, had been made +in her handsome, hopeful, happy brother. She could not avoid an +exclamation that was a cry of terror; and she went to him and kissed +him, and murmured, she knew not what words of pity and love. Under +their influence, the flood gates of sorrow were unloosed, he began to +weep, to sob, to shake and tremble, like a reed in a tempest. + +Christina saw that his soul was tossed from top to bottom, and in the +madness of the storm, she knew it was folly to ask "why?" But she went +to the door, closed it, slipped forward the bolt, and then came back to +his side, waiting there patiently until the first paroxysm of his grief +was over. Then she said softly:-- + +"Andrew! My brother Andrew! What sorrow has come to you? Tell +Christina." + +"Sophy is dead--dead and gone for me. Oh Sophy, Sophy, Sophy!" + +"Andrew, tell me a straight tale. You are not a woman to let any sorrow +get the mastery over you." + +"Sophy has gone from me. She has played me false--and after all these +years, deceived and left me." + +"Then there is still the Faithful One. His love is from everlasting, to +everlasting. He changeth not." + +"Ay; I know," he said drearily. But he straightened himself and +unfastened the button at his throat, and stood up on his feet, planting +them far apart, as if he felt the earth like the reeling deck of a +ship. And Christina opened the little window, and drew his chair near +it, and let the fresh breeze blow upon him; and her heart throbbed +hotly with anger and pity. + +"Sit down in the sea wind, Andrew," she said. "There's strength and a +breath of comfort in it; and try and give your trouble words. Did you +see Sophy?" + +"Ay; I saw her." + +"At her aunt's house?" + +"No. I met her on the road. She was in a dog-cart; and the master of +Braelands was driving her. I saw her, ere she saw me; and she was +looking in his face as she never looked in my face. She loves him, +Christina, as she never loved me." + +"Did you speak to her?" + +"I was that foolish, and left to myself. She was going to pass me, +without a look or a word; but I could not thole the scorn and pain of +it, and I called out to her, '_Sophy_! _Sophy_!'" + +"And she did not answer you?" + +"She cruddled closer to Braelands. And then he lifted the whip to hurry +the horse; and before I knew what I was doing, I had the beast by the +head--and the lash of the whip--struck me clean across the cheek bone." + +"Oh Andrew! Andrew!" And she bent forward and looked at the outraged +cheek, and murmuring, "I see the mark of it! I see the mark of it!" she +kissed the long, white welt, and wetted it with her indignant tears. + +Andrew sat passive under her sympathy until she asked, "Did Braelands +say anything when he struck you? Had he no word of excuse?" + +"He said: 'It is your own fault, fisherman. The lash was meant for the +horse, and not for you.'" + +"Well?" + +"And I was in a passion; and I shouted some words I should not have +said--words I never said in my life before. I didn't think the like of +them were in my heart." + +"I don't blame you, Andrew." + +"I blame myself though. Then I bid Sophy get out of the cart and come +to me;--and--" + +"Yes, dear?" + +"And she never moved or spoke; she just covered her face with her +hands, and gave a little scream;--for no doubt I had frighted her--and +Braelands, he got into the de'il's own rage then, and dared me to call +the lady 'Sophy' again; 'for,' said he, 'she will be my wife before +many days'; and with that, he struck the horse savagely again and +again, and the poor beast broke from my hand, and bounded for'ard; and +I fell on my back, and the wheels of the cart grazed the soles of my +shoon as they passed me." + +"And then?" + +"I don't know how long I lay there." + +"And they went on and left you lying in the highway?" + +"They went on." + +"The wicked lass! Oh the wicked, heartless lass!" + +"You are not able to judge her, Christina." + +"But you can judge Braelands. Get a warrant for the scoundrel the morn. +He is without the law." + +"Then I would make Sophy the common talk, far and near. How could I +wrong Sophy to right myself?" + +"But the whip lash! the whip lash! Andrew. You cannot thole the like of +that!" + +"There was One tholed for me the lash and the buffet, and answer'd +never a word. I can thole the lash for Sophy's sake. A poor love I +would have for Sophy, if I put my own pride before her good name. If I +get help 'from beyond,' I can thole the lash, Christina." + +He was white through all the tan of wind, and sea, and sun; and the +sweat of his suffering stood in great beads on his pallid face and +brow. Christina lifted a towel, which she had just ironed, and wiped it +away; and he said feebly;-- + +"Thank you, dear lass! I will go to my bed a wee." + +So Christina opened the door of his room and he tottered in, swaying +like a drunken man, and threw himself upon his bed. Five minutes +afterward she stepped softly to his side. He was sunk in deep sleep, +fathoms below the tide of grief whose waves and billows had gone over +him. + +"Thanks be to the Merciful!" she whispered. "When the sorrow is too +great, then He giveth His beloved sleep." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE LOST BRIDE + + +This unforeseen and unhappy meeting forced a climax in Sophy's love +affairs, which she had hitherto not dared to face. In fact, +circumstances tending that way had arisen about a week previously; and +it was in consequence of them, that she was publicly riding with +Braelands when Andrew met them. For a long time she had insisted on +secrecy in her intercourse with her "friend." She was afraid of Andrew; +she was afraid of her aunt; she was afraid of being made a talk and a +speculation to the gossips of the little town. And though Miss Kilgour +had begun to suspect somewhat, she was not inclined to verify her +suspicions. Madame Braelands was a good customer, therefore she did not +wish to know anything about a matter which she was sure would be a +great annoyance to that lady. + +But Madame herself forced the knowledge on her. Some friend had called +at Braelands and thought it right to let her know what a dangerous +affair her son was engaged in. "For the girl is beautiful," she said, +"there is no denying that; and she comes of fisher-folk, who have +simply no idea but that love words and love-kisses must lead to +marrying and housekeeping, and who will bitterly resent and avenge a +wrong done to any woman of their class, as you well know, Madame." + +Madame did know this very well; and apart from her terror of a +_mesalliance_ for the heir of Braelands, there was the fact that his +family had always had great political influence, and looked to a public +recognition of it. The fisher vote was an important factor in the +return of any aspirant for Parliamentary honour; and she felt keenly +that Archie was endangering his whole future career by his attentions +to a girl whom it was impossible he should marry, but who would have +the power to arouse against him a bitter antagonism, if he did not +marry her. + +She affected to her friend a total indifference to the subject of her +son's amusements, and she said "she was moreover sure that Archibald +Braelands would never do anything to prejudice his own honour, or the +honour of the humblest fisher-girl in Fifeshire." But all the same, her +heart was sick with fear and anxiety; and as soon as her informant had +gone, she ordered her carriage, dressed herself in all her braveries, +and drove hastily to Mistress Kilgour's. + +At that very hour, this lady was fussing and fuming angrily at her +niece. Sophy had insisted on going for a walk, and in the altercation +attending this resolve, Mistress Kilgour had unadvisably given speech +to her suspicions about Sophy's companion in these frequent walks, and +threatened her with a revelation of these doubts to Andrew Binnie. But +in spite of all, Sophy had left the house; and her aunt was nursing her +wrath against her when Madame Braeland's carriage clattered up to her +shop door. + +Now if Madame had been a prudent woman, and kept the rein on her +prideful temper, she would have found Mistress Kilgour in the very mood +suitable for an ally. But Madame had also been nursing her wrath, and +as soon as Mistress Kilgour had appeared, she asked angrily:-- + +"Where is that niece of yours, Mistress Kilgour? I should very much +like to know." + +The tone of the question irritated the dressmaker, and instantly her +sympathies flew toward her own kith, and kin, and class. Also, her +caution was at once aroused, and she answered the question, +Scotch-wise, by another question:-- + +"What for are you requiring to see Sophy, Madame?" + +"Is she in the house?" + +"Shall I go and see?" + +"Go and see, indeed! You know well she is not. You know she is away +somewhere, walking or driving with my son--with the heir of Braelands. +Oh, I have heard all about their shameful carryings-on." + +"You'll not need to use the word 'shameful' with regard to my niece, +Sophy Traill, Madame Braelands. She has never earned such a like word, +and she never will. You may take my say-so for that." + +"It is not anybody's say-so in this case. Seeing is believing, and they +have been seen together, walking in Fernie wood, and down among the +rocks on the Elie coast, and in many other places." + +"Well and good, Madame. What by that? Young things will be young +things." + +"What by that? Do you, a woman of your age, ask me such a question? +When a gentleman of good blood and family, as well as great wealth, +goes walking and driving with a poor girl of no family at all, do you +ask what by that? Nothing but disgrace and trouble can be looked for." + +"Speak for your own kin and side, Madame. And I should think a woman of +your age--being at least twenty years older than myself--would know +that true love never asks for a girl's pedigree. And as for 'disgrace,' +Sophy Traill will never call anything like 'disgrace' to herself. I +will allow that Sophy is poor, but as for family, the Traills are of +the best Norse strain. They were sea-fighters, hundreds of years before +they were sea-fishers; and they had been 'at home' on the North Sea, +and in all the lands about it, centuries before the like of the +Braelands were thought or heard tell of." + +Mistress Kilgour was rapidly becoming angry, and Madame would have been +wise to have noted the circumstance; but she herself was now past all +prudence, and with an air of contempt she took out her jewelled watch, +and beginning to slowly wind it, said:-- + +"My good woman, Sophy's father was a common fisherman. We have no call +to go back to the time when her people were pirates and sea-robbers." + +"I am _my own_ woman, Madame. And I will take my oath I am not _your_ +woman, anyhow. And 'common' or uncommon, the fishermen of Fife call no +man master but the Lord God Almighty, from whose hands they take their +food, summer and winter. And I will make free to say, moreover, that if +Braelands loves Sophy Traill and she loves him, worse might befall him +than Sophy for a wife. For if God thinks fit to mate them, it is not +Griselda Kilgour that will take upon herself to contradict the Will of +Heaven." + +"Don't talk rubbish, Mistress Kilgour. People who live in society have +to regard what society thinks and says." + +"It is no ways obligatory, Madame, the voice of God and Nature has more +weight, I'm thinking, and if God links two together, you will find it +gey and hard to separate them." + +"I heard the girl was promised since her babyhood to a fisherman called +Andrew Binnie." + +"For once you have heard the truth, Madame. But you know yourself that +babyhood and womanhood are two different things; and the woman has just +set at naught the baby. That is all." + +"No, it is not all. This Andrew Binnie is a man of great influence +among the fishers, and my son cannot afford to make enemies among that +class. It will be highly prejudicial to him." + +"I cannot help that Madame. Braelands is well able to row his own boat. +At any rate, I am not called to take an oar in it." + +"Yes, you are. I have been a good customer to you, Mistress Kilgour." + +"I am not denying it; at the same time I have been a good dress and +bonnet maker to you, and earned every penny-bit you have paid me. The +obligation is mutual, I'm thinking." + +"I can be a still better customer if you will prevent this +gentle-shepherding and love-making. I would not even scruple at a +twenty pound note, or perhaps two of them." + +"_Straa_! If you were Queen of England, Madame, I would call you an +insolent dastard, to try and bribe me against my own flesh and blood. +You are a very Judas, to think of such a thing. Good blood! fine +family! indeed! If your son is like yourself, I'm not caring for him +coming into my family at all." + +"Mistress Kilgour, you may close my account with you. I shall employ +you no more." + +"Pay me the sixteen pounds odd you owe me, and then I will shut my +books forever against Braelands. Accounts are not closed till +outstanding money is paid in." + +"I shall send the money." + +"The sight of the money would be better than the promise of it, Madame; +for some of it is owing more than a twelvemonth;" and Mistress Kilgour +hastily turned over to the Braelands page of her ledger, while Madame, +with an air of affront and indignation, hastily left the shop. + +Following this wordy battle with her dressmaker, Madame had an equally +stubborn one with her son, the immediate consequence of which was that +very interview whose close was witnessed by Andrew Binnie. In this +conference Braelands acknowledged his devotion to Sophy, and earnestly +pleaded for Mistress Kilgour's favour for his suit. She was now quite +inclined to favour him. Her own niece, as mistress of Braelands, would +be not only a great social success, but also a great financial one. +Madame Braelands's capacity for bonnets was two every year; Sophy's +capacity was unlimited. Madame considered four dresses annually quite +extravagant; Sophy's ideas on the same subject were constantly +enlarging. And then there would be the satisfaction of overcoming +Madame. So she yielded easily and gracefully to Archie Braelands's +petition, and thus Sophy suddenly found herself able to do openly what +she had hitherto done secretly, and the question of her marriage with +Braelands accepted as an understood conclusion. + +At this sudden culmination of her hardly acknowledged desires, the girl +was for a short tune distracted. She felt that Andrew must now be +definitely resigned, and a strangely sad feeling of pity and reluctance +assailed her. There were moments she knew not which lover was dearest +to her. The habit of loving Andrew had grown through long years in her +heart; she trusted him as she trusted no other mortal, she was not +prepared to give up absolutely all rights in a heart so purely and so +devotedly her own. For if she knew anything, she knew right well that +no other man would ever give her the same unfaltering, unselfish +affection. + +And when she dared to consider truthfully her estimate of Archie +Braelands, she judged his love, passionate as it was, did not ring true +through all its depths. There were times when her little _gaucheries_ +fretted him; when her dress did not suit him; when he put aside an +engagement with her for a sail with a lord, or a dinner party with +friends, or a social function at his own home. Andrew put no one before +her; and even the business that kept him from her side was all for her +future happiness. Every object and every aim of his life had reference +to her. It was hard to give up such a perfect love, and she felt that +she could not see Andrew face to face and do it. Hence her refusals to +meet him, and her shyness and silence when a meeting was unavoidable. +Hence, also, came a very peculiar attitude of Andrew's friends and +mates; for they could not conceive how Andrew's implicit faith in his +love should prevent him from finding out what was so evident to every +man and woman in Largo. + +Alas! the knowledge had now come to him. That it could have come in any +harder way, it is difficult to believe. There was only one palliation +to its misery--it was quite unpremeditated--but even this mitigation +of the affront hardly brought him any comfort as yet Braelands was +certainly deeply grieved at the miserable outcome of the meeting. He +knew the pride of the fisher race, and he had himself a manly instinct, +strong enough to understand the undeserved humiliation of Andrew's +position. Honestly, as a gentleman, he was sorry the quarrel had taken +place; as a lover, he was anxious to turn it to his own advantage. For +he saw that, in spite of all her coldness and apparent apathy, Sophy +was affected and wounded by Andrew's bitter imploration and its +wretched and sorrowful ending. If the man should gain her ear and +sympathy, Braelands feared for the result. He therefore urged her to an +immediate marriage; and when Mistress Kilgour was taken into counsel, +she encouraged the idea, because of the talk which was sure to follow +such a flagrant breach of the courtesies of life. + +But even at this juncture, Sophy's vanity must have its showing; and +she refused to marry, until at least two or three suitable dresses +should have been prepared; so the uttermost favour that could be +obtained from the stubborn little bride was a date somewhere within two +weeks away. + +During these two weeks there was an unspeakable unhappiness in the +Binnie household. For oh, how dreary are those wastes of life, left by +the loved who have deserted us! These are the vacant places we water +with our bitterest tears. Had Sophy died, Andrew would have said, "It +is the Lord; let him do what seemeth right in his sight." But the +manner and the means of his loss filled him with a dumb sorrow and +rage; for in spite of his mother's and sister's urging, he would do +nothing to right his own self-respect at the price of giving Sophy the +slightest trouble or notoriety. Suffer! Yes, he suffered at home, where +Janet and Christina continually reminded him of the insult he ought to +avenge; and he suffered also abroad, where his mates looked at him with +eyes full of surprise and angry inquiries. + +But though the village was ringing with gossip about Sophy and young +Braelands, never a man or woman in it ventured to openly question the +stern, sullen, irritable man who had been so long recognised as her +accepted lover. And whether he was in the boats or out of them, no one +dared to speak Sophy's name in his presence. Indeed, upon the whole, he +was during these days what Janet Binnie called "an ill man to live +with--a man out of his senses, and falling away from his meat and his +clothes." + +This misery continued for about two weeks without any abatement, and +Janet's and Christina's sympathy was beginning to be tinged with +resentment. It seems so unnatural and unjust, that a girl who had +already done them so much wrong, and who was so far outside their daily +life, should have the power to still darken their home, and infuse a +bitter drop into their peculiar joys and hopes. + +"I am glad the wicked lass isn't near by me," said Janet one morning, +when Andrew had declared himself unable to eat his breakfast and gone +out of the cottage to escape his mother's pleadings and reproofs. "I'm +glad she isn't near me. If she was here, I could not keep my tongue +from her. She should hear the truth for once, if she never heard it +again. They should be words as sharp as the birch rod she ought to have +had, when she first began her nonsense, and her airs and graces." + +"She is a bad girl; but we must remember that she was left much to +herself--no mother to guide her, no sister or brother either." + +"It would have been a pity if there had been more of them. One scone of +that baking is enough. The way she has treated our Andrew is +abominable. Flesh and blood can't bear such doings." + +As Janet made this assertion, a cousin of Sophy's came into the +cottage, and answered her. "I know you are talking of Sophy," she said, +"and I am not wondering at the terrivee you are making. As for me, +though she is my cousin, I'll never exchange the Queen's language with +her again as long as I live in this world. But all bad things come to +an end, as well as good ones, and I am bringing what will put a stop at +last to all this clishmaclaver about that wearisome lassie,"--and with +these words she handed Janet two shining white cards, tied together +with a bit of silver wire. + +They were Sophy's wedding cards; and she had also sent from Edinburgh a +newspaper containing a notice of her marriage to Archibald Braelands. +The news was very satisfactory to Janet. She held the bits of cardboard +with her fingertips, looking grimly at the names upon them. Then she +laughed, not very pleasantly, at the difference in the size of the +cards. "He has the wee card now," she said, "and Sophy the big one; but +I'm thinking the wee one will grow big, and the big one grow little +before long. I will take them to Andrew myself; the sight of them will +be a bitter medicine, but it will do him good. Folks may count it great +gain when they get rid of a false hope." + +Andrew was walking moodily about the bit of bare turf in front of the +cottage door, stopping now and then to look over the sea, where the +brown sails of some of the fishing boats still caught the lazy south +wind. He was thinking that the sea was cloudy, and that there was an +evil-looking sky to the eastward; and then, as his mind took in at the +same moment the dangers to the fishers who people the grey waters and +his own sorrowful wrong, he turned and began to walk about +muttering--"Lord help us! We must bear what is sent." + +Then Janet called him, and he watched for her approach. She put the +cards into his hand saying, "Sophy's cousin, Isobel Murray, brought +them." Her voice was full of resentment; and Andrew, not at the moment +realising a custom so unfamiliar in a fishing-village, looked +wonderingly in his mother's face, and then at the fateful white +messengers. + +"Read the names on them, Andrew man, and you'll know then why they are +sent to Pittendurie." + +Then he looked steadily at the inscription, and the struggle of the +inner man shook the outward man visibly. It was like a shot in the +backbone. But it was only for a moment he staggered; though he had few +resources, his faith in the Cross and his confidence in himself made +him a match for his hard fate. It is in such critical moments the soul +reveals if it be selfish or generous, and Andrew, with a quick upward +fling of the head, regained absolutely that self-control, which he had +voluntarily abdicated. + +"You will tell Isobel," he said, "that I wish Mistress Braelands every +good thing, both for this life and the next." Then he stepped closer to +his mother and kissed her; and Janet was so touched and amazed that she +could not speak. But the look of loving wonder on her face was far +better than words. And as she stood looking at him, Andrew put the +cards in his pocket, and went down to the sea; and Janet returned to +the cottage and gave Isobel the message he had sent. + +But this information, so scanty and yet so conclusive, by no means +satisfied the curiosity of the women. A great deal of indignation was +expressed by Sophy's kindred and friends in the village at her total +ignoring of their claims. They did not expect to be invited to a house +like Braelands; but they did think Sophy ought to have visited them and +told them all about her preparations and future plans. They were her +own flesh and blood, and they deeply resented her non-recognition of +the claims of kindred. Isobel, as the central figure of this +dissatisfaction, was a very important person. She at least had received +"cards," and the rest of the cousins to the sixth degree felt that they +had been grossly slighted in the omission. So Isobel, for the sake of +her own popularity, was compelled to make common cause, and to assert +positively that "she thought little of the compliment." Sophy only +wanted her folk to know she was now Mistress Braelands, and she had +picked her out to carry the news--good or bad news, none yet could say. + +Janet was not inclined to discuss the matter with her. She was so cold +about it, that Isobel quickly discovered she had 'work to finish at her +own house,' for she recollected that if the Binnies were not inclined +to talk over the affair there were plenty of wives and maids in +Pittendurie who were eager to do so. So Janet and Christina were +quickly left to their own opinions on the marriage, the first of which +was, that "Sophy had behaved very badly to them." + +"But I wasn't going to say bad words for Isobel to clash round the +village," said Janet "and I am gey glad Andrew took the news so +man-like and so Christian-like. They can't make any speculations about +Andrew now, and that will be a sore disappointment to the hussies, for +some of them are but ill willy creatures." + +"I am glad Andrew kept a brave heart, and could bring good words out of +it." + +"What else would you expect from Andrew? Do you think Andrew Binnie +will fret himself one moment about a wife that is not his wife? He +would not give the de'il such a laugh over him. You may take my word, +that he will break no commandment for any lass; and Sophy Braelands +will now have to vacate his very thoughts." + +"I am glad she is married then. If her marriage cures Andrew of that +never-ending fret about her, it will be a comfort." + +"It is a cure, sure as death, as far as your brother is concerned. +Fancy Andrew Binnie pining and worrying about Archie Braelands's wife! +The thing would be sinful, and therefore fairly impossible to him! I'm +as glad as you are that no worse than marriage has come to the lass; +she is done with now, and I am wishing her no more ill than she has +called to herself." + +"She has brought sorrow enough to our house," said Christina. "All the +days of my own courting have been saddened and darkened with the worry +and the care of her. Andrew was always either that set up or that +knocked down about her, that he could not give a thought to Jamie's and +my affairs. It was only when you talked about Sophy, or his wedding +with Sophy, that he looked as if the world was worth living in. He was +fast growing into a real selfish man." + +"_Toots!_ Every one in love--men or women--are as selfish as they can +be. The whole round world only holds two folk: their own self, and +another. I would like to have a bit of chat before long, that did not +set itself to love-making and marrying." + +"Goodness, Mother! You have not chatted much with me lately about +love-making and marrying. Andrew's trouble has filled the house, and +you have hardly said a word about poor Jamie, who never gave either of +us a heartache. I wonder where he is to-day!" + +Janet thought a moment and then answered: "He would leave New York for +Scotland, last Saturday. 'T is Wednesday morning now, and he will maybe +reach Glasgow next Tuesday. Then it will not take him many hours to +find himself in Pittendurie." + +"I doubt it. He will not be let come and go as he wants to. It would +not be reasonable. He will have to obey orders. And when he gets off, +it will be a kind of favour. A steamboat and a fishing-boat are two +different things, Mother, forbye, Jamie is but a new hand, and will +have his way to win." + +"What are you talking about, you silly, fearful lassie? It would be a +poor-like, heartless captain, that had not a fellow-feeling for a lad +in love. Jamie will just have to tell him about yourself, and he will +send the lad off with a laugh, or maybe a charge not to forget the +ship's sailing-day. Hope well, and have well, lassie." + +"You'll be far mistaken, Mother. I am not expecting Jamie for more than +two or three trips--but he'll be thinking of me, and I can not help +thinking of him." + +"Think away, Christina. Loving thoughts keep out others, not as good. I +wonder how it would do to walk as far as Largo, and find out all about +the marriage from Griselda Kilgour. Then _I_ would have the essentials, +and something worth telling and talking about." + +"I would go, Mother. Griselda will be thirsty to tell all she knows, +and just distracted with the glory of her niece. She will hold herself +very high, no doubt." + +"Griselda and her niece are two born fools, and I am not to be put to +the wall by the like of them. And it is not beyond hoping, that I'll be +able to give the woman a mouthful of sound advice. She's a set-up body, +but I shall disapprove of all she says." + +"You may disapprove till you are black in the face, Mother, but +Griselda will hold her own; she is neither flightersome, nor easy +frightened. I'm feared it is going to rain. I see the glass has +fallen." + +"I'm not minding the 'glass'. The sky is clear, and I think far more of +the sky, and the look of it, than I do of the 'glass'. I wonder at +Andrew hanging it in our house; it is just sinful and unlucky to be +taking the change of the weather out of His hands. But rain or fine, I +am going to Largo." + +As she spoke, she was taking out of her kist a fine Paisley shawl and a +bonnet, and with Christina's help she was soon dressed to her own +satisfaction. Fortunately one of the fishers was going with his cart to +Largo, so she got a lift over the road, and reached Griselda Kilgour's +early in the afternoon. There were no bonnets and caps in the window of +the shop, and when Janet entered, the place had a covered-up, +Sabbath-day look that kindled her curiosity. The ringing of the bell +quickly brought Mistress Kilgour forward, and she also had an unusual +look. But she seemed pleased to see Janet, and very heartily asked her +into the little parlour behind. + +"I'm just home," she said, "and I'm making myself a cup of tea ere I +sort up the shop and get to my day's work again. Sit down, Janet, and +take off your things, and have a cup with me. Strange days and strange +doings in them lately!" + +"You may well lift up your eyes and your hands, Griselda. I never heard +tell of the like. The whole village is in a flustration; and I just +came o'er-by, to find out from you the long and the short of +everything. I'm feared you have been sorely put about with the wilful +lass." + +"Mistress Braelands had no one to lippen to but me. I had everything to +look after. The Master of Braelands was that far gone in love, he +wasn't to be trusted with anything. But my niece has done a good job +for herself." + +"It is well _some one_ has got good out of her treachery. She brought +sorrow enough to my house. But I'm glad it is all over, and that +Braelands has got her. She wouldn't have suited my son at all, +Griselda." + +"Not in the least," answered the dressmaker with an air of offence. +"How many lumps of sugar, Janet?" + +"I'm not taking sugar. Where was the lass married?" + +"In Edinburgh." We didn't want any talk and fuss about the wedding, and +Braelands he said to me, 'Mistress Kilgour, if you will take a little +holiday, and go with Sophy to Edinburgh, and give her your help about +the things she requires, we shall both of us be your life-long +debtors.' And I thought Edinburgh was the proper place, and so I went +with Sophy--putting up a notice on the shop door that I had gone to +look at the winter fashions and would be back to-day--and here I am for +I like to keep my word. + +"You didn't keep it with my Andrew, for you promised to help him with +Sophy, you promised that more than once or twice." + +"No one can help a man who fights against himself, and Andrew never did +prize Sophy as Braelands did, the way that man ran after the lass, and +coaxed and courted and pleaded with her! And the bonnie things he gave +her! And the stone blind infatuation of the creature! Well I never saw +the like. He was that far gone in love, there was nothing for him but +standing up before the minister." + +"What minister?" + +"Dr. Beith of St. Andrews. Braelands sits in St. Andrews, when he is in +Edinburgh for the winter season and Dr. Beith is knowing him well. I +wish you could have seen the dresses and the mantillas, the bonnets and +the fineries of every sort I had to buy Sophy, not to speak of the +rings and gold chains and bracelets and such things, that Braelands +just laid down at her feet." + +"What kind of dresses?" + +"Silks and satins--white for the wedding-dress--and pink, and blue and +tartan and what not! I tell you McFinlay and Co. were kept busy day and +night for Sophy Braelands." + +Then Mistress Kilgour entered into a minute description of all Sophy's +beautiful things, and Janet listened attentively, not only for her own +gratification, but also for that of every woman in Pittendurie. Indeed +she appeared so interested that her entertainer never suspected the +anger she was restraining with difficulty until her curiosity had been +satisfied. But when every point had been gone over, when the last thing +about Sophy's dress and appearance had been told and discussed, Janet +suddenly inquired, "Have they come back to Largo yet?" + +"Indeed nothing so common," answered Griselda, proudly. "They have gone +to foreign lands--to France, and Italy, and Germany,"--and then with a +daring imagination she added, "and it's like they won't stop short of +Asia and America." + +"Well, Jamie Logan, my Christina's promised man is on the American +line. I dare say he will be seeing her on his ship, and no doubt he +will do all he can to pleasure her." + +"Jamie Logan! Sophy would not think of noticing him now. It would not +be proper." + +"What for not? He is as good a man as Archie Braelands, and if all +reports be true, a good deal better." + +"_Archie_ indeed! I'm thinking 'Master Braelands' would be more as it +should be." + +"I'll never 'master' him. He is no 'master' of mine. What for does he +have a Christian name, if he is not to be called by it?" + +"Well, Janet, you need not show your temper. Goodness knows, it is as +short as a cat's hair. And Braelands is beyond your tongue, anyhow." + +"I'm not giving him a word. Sophy will pay every debt he is owing me +and mine. The lassie has been badly guided all her life, and as she +would not be ruled by the rudder, she must be ruled by the rocks." + +"Think shame of yourself! For speaking ill to a new-made bride! How +would you like me to say such words to Christina?" + +"Christina would never give occasion for them. She is as true as steel +to her own lad." + +"Maybe she has no temptation to be false. That makes a deal of differ. +Anyway, Sophy is a woman now in the married state, and answerable to +none but her husband. I hope Andrew is not fretting more than might be +expected." + +"Andrew! Andrew fretting! Not he! Not a minute! As soon as he knew she +was a wife, he cast her out of his very thoughts. You don't catch +Andrew Binnie putting a light-of-love lassie before a command of God." + +"I won't hear you talk of my niece--of the mistress of Braelands--in +that kind of a way, Janet. She's our betters now, and we be to take +notice of the fact." + +"She'll have to learn and unlearn a good lot before she is to be spoke +of as any one's 'betters.' I hope while she is seeing the world she +will get her eyes opened to her own faults; they will give her plenty +to think of." + +"Keep me, woman! Such a way to go on about your own kin." + +"She is no kin to the Binnies. I have cast her out of my reckoning." + +"She is Christina's sixth cousin." + +"She is nothing at all to us. I never did set any store by those Orkney +folks--a bad lot! A very selfish, false, bad lot!" + +"You are speaking of my people, Janet." + +"I am quite aware of it, Griselda." + +"Then keep your tongue in bounds." + +"My tongue is my own." + +"My house is my own. And if you can't be civil, I'll be necessitated to +ask you to leave it." + +"I'm going as soon as I have told you that you have the most +gun-powdery temper I ever came across; forbye, you are fairly drunk +with the conceit and vanity of Sophy's grand marriage. You are full as +the Baltic with the pride of it, woman!" + +"Temper! It is you, that are in a temper." + +"That's neither here nor there. I have my reasons." + +"Reasons, indeed! I'd like to see you reasonable for once." + +"Yes, I have my reasons. How was my lad Andrew used by the both of you? +And what do you think of his last meeting with that heartless limmer +and her fine sweetheart?" + +"Andrew should have kept himself out of their way. As soon as Braelands +came round Sophy, Andrew got the very de'il in him. I was aye feared +there would be murder laid to his name." + +"You needn't have been feared for the like of that. Andrew Binnie has +enough of the devil in him to keep the devil out of him. Do you think +he would put blood on his soul for Sophy Traill? No, not for twenty +lasses better than her! You needn't look at me as if your eyes were +cocked pistols. I have heard all I wanted to hear, and said all I +wanted to say, and now I'll be stepping homeward." + +"I'll be obligated to you to go at once--the sooner the better." + +"And I'll never speak to you again in this world, Griselda; nor in the +next world either, unless you mend your manners. Mind that!" + +"You are just full of envy, and all uncharitableness, and evil +speaking, Janet Binnie. But I trust I have more of the grace of God +about me than to return your ill words." + +"That may be. It only shows folk that the grace of God will bide with +an old woman that no one else can bide with." + +"Old woman! I am twenty years younger--" + +But Janet had passed out of the room and clashed the shop door behind +her with a pealing ring; so Griselda's little scream of indignation +never reached her. It is likely, however, she anticipated the words +that followed her, for she went down the street, folding her shawl over +her ample chest, and smiling the smile of those who have thrown the +last word of offence. + +She did not reach home until quite dark, for she was stopped frequently +by little groups of the wives and maids of Pittendurie, who wanted to +hear the news about Sophy. It pleased Janet, for some reason, to +magnify the girl's position and all the fine things it had brought her. +Perhaps, because she felt dimly that it placed Andrew's defeat in a +better Tight. No one could expect a mere fisherman to have any chance +against a man able to shower silks and satins and gold and jewels upon +his bride, and who could take her to France and Italy and Germany, not +to speak of Asia and America. + +But if this was her motive, it was a bit of motherhood thrown away. +Andrew had sources of comfort and vindication which looked far beyond +all petty social opinion. He was on the sea alone till nearly dark; +then he came home, with the old grave smile on his face, saying, as he +entered the house, "There will be a heavy blow from the northeast +to-night, Christina. I see the boats are all at anchor, and no prospect +of a fishing." + +"Ay, and I saw the birds, who know more than we do, making for the +rocks. I wish mother would come,"--and she opened the door and looked +out into the dark vacancy. "There is a voice in the sea to-night, +Andrew, and I don't like the wail of it." + +But Andrew had gone to his room, and so she left the door open until +Janet returned. And the first question Janet asked was concerning +Andrew. "Has he come home yet, Christina? I'm feared for a boat on the +sea to-night." + +"He is home, and I think he has fallen asleep. He looked very tired." + +"How is he taking his trouble?" + +"Like a man. Like himself. He has had his wrestle out on the sea, and +has come out with a victory." + +"The Lord be thanked! Now, Christina, I have heard everything about +that wicked lassie. Let us have a cup of tea and a herring--for it is +little good I had of Griselda's wishy-washy brew--and then I'll tell +you the news of the wedding, the beginning and the end of it." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WHERE IS MY MONEY? + + +In the morning it was still more evident that Andrew had thrown himself +on God, and--unperplext seeking, had found him. But Janet wondered a +little that he did not more demonstratively seek the comfort of The +Book. It was her way in sorrow to appeal immediately to its known +passages of promise and comfort, and she laid it open in his way with +the remark: + +"There is the Bible. Andrew; it will have a word, no doubt, for you." + +"And there is the something beyond the Bible, Mother, if you will be +seeking it. When the Lord God speaks to a man, he has the perfection of +counsel, and he will not be requiring the word of a prophet or an +apostle. From the heart of The Unseen a voice calls to him, and gives +him patience under suffering. I _know_, for I have heard and answered +it." Then he walked to the door, and opening it, he stood there +repeating to himself, as he looked over the waters which had been the +field of his conflict and his victory:-- + + "But peace they have that none may gain that live; + And rest about them that no love can give + And over them, while death and life shall be, + The light and sound and darkness of the Sea." + +It was a verse that meant more to Andrew than he would have been able +to explain. He only knew that it led him somehow through those dim, +obscure pathways of spiritual life, on which the light of common day +does not shine. And as he stood there, his mother and sister felt +vaguely that they knew what "moral beauty" meant, and were the better +for the knowledge. + +He did not try to forget Sophy; he only placed her beyond his own +horizon; and whereas he had once thought of her with personal hope and +desire, he now remembered her only with a prayer for her happiness, or +if by chance his tongue spoke her name, he added a blessing with it. +Never did he make a complaint of her desertion, but he wept inwardly; +and it was easy to see that he spent many of those hours that make the +heart grey, though they leave the hair untouched. And it was at this +time he contracted the habit of frequently looking up, finding in the +very act that sense of strength and help and adoration which is +inseparable to it. And thus, day by day, he overcame the aching sorrow +of his heart, for no man is ever crushed from without; if he is abased +to despair, his ruin has come from within. + +About three weeks after Sophy's marriage, Christina was standing one +evening at the gloaming, looking over the immense, cheerless waste of +waters. Mists, vague and troublous as the background of dreams, were on +the horizon, and there Was a feeling of melancholy in the air. But she +liked the damp, fresh wind, with its taste of brine, and she drew her +plaid round her, and breathed it with a sense of enjoyment. Very soon +Andrew came up the cliff, and he stood at her side, and they spoke of +Jamie and wondered at his whereabouts, and after a little pause, Andrew +added:-- + +"Christina, I got a very important letter to-day, and I am going +to-morrow about the business I told you of. I want to start early in +the morning, so put up what I need in my little bag. And I wish you to +say nothing to mother until all things are settled." + +"She will maybe ask me the question, Andrew." + +"I told her I was going about a new boat, and she took me at my word +without this or that to it. She is a blithe creature, one of the Lord's +most contented bairns. I wish we were both more like her." + +"I wish we were, Andrew. If we could just do as mother does! for she +leaves yesterday where it fell, and trusts to-morrow with God, and so +catches every blink of happiness that passes by her." + +"God forever bless her! There is no mother like the mother that bore +us; we must aye remember that, Christina. But it is a dour, storm-like +sky yon," he continued, pointing eastward. "We shall have a snoring +breeze before midnight." + +Then Christina thought of her lover again, and as they turned in to the +fireside, she began to tell her brother her hopes and fears about +Jamie, and to read him portions of a letter received that day from +America. While Andrew's trouble had been fresh and heavy on him, +Christina had refrained herself from all speech about her lover; she +felt instinctively that it would not be welcome and perhaps hardly +kind. But this night it fell out naturally, and Andrew listened kindly +and made his sister very happy by his interest in all that related to +Jamie's future. Then he ate some bread and cheese with the women, and +after the exercise went to his room, for he had many things to prepare +for his journey on the following day. + +Janet continued the conversation. It related to her daughter's marriage +and settlement in Glasgow, and of this subject she never wearied. + +The storm Andrew had foreseen was by this time raging round the +cottage, the Clustering waves making strange noises on the sands and +falling on the rocks with a keen, lashing sound It affected them +gradually; their hearts became troubled, and they spoke low and with +sad inflections, for both were thinking of the sailor-men and fishermen +peopling the lonely waters. + +"I wouldn't put out to sea this night," said Janet. "No, not for a +capful of sovereigns." + +"Yet there will be plenty of boats, hammering through the big waves all +night long, till the dawn shows in the east; and it is very like that +Jamie is now on the Atlantic--a stormy place, God knows!" + +"A good passage, if it so pleases God!" said Janet, lifting her eyes to +heaven, and Christina looked kindly at her mother for the wish. But +talking was fast becoming difficult, for the wind had suddenly veered +more northerly, and, sleet-laden, it howled and shrieked down the wide +chimney. In one of the pauses forced on them by this blatant intruder, +they were startled by a human cry, loud and piercing, and quite +distinct from the turbulent roar of winds and waves. + +Both women were on their feet on the instant Both had received the same +swift, positive impression, that it came from Andrew's room, and they +were at his door in a moment. It was locked. They called him, and he +made no answer. Again and again, with ever increasing terror, they +entreated him to open to them; for the door was solid and heavy, and +the lock large and strong, and no power they possessed could avail to +force an entrance. He heeded none of, their passionate prayers until +Janet began to cry bitterly. Then he turned the key and they entered. + +Andrew looked at them with anger; his countenance was pale and +distraught, and a quiet fury burned in his eyes. He could not speak, +and the women regarded him with fear and wonder. Presently he managed +to articulate with a thick difficulty:-- + +"My money! My money! It is all gone!" + +"Gone!" shrieked Christina, "that is just impossible." + +"It is all gone!" Then he gripped her cruelly by the shoulder, and +asked in a fierce whisper: + +"What did you do with it?" + +"Me? Andrew!" + +"Ay, you! You wicked lass, you!" + +"I never put finger on it" + +"Christina! Christina! To think that I trusted you for this! Go out of +my sight, will you! I'm not able to bear the face of you!" + +"Andrew! Andrew! Surely, you are not calling me a 'thief'?" + +"Who, then?" he cried, with gathering rage, "unless it be Jamie Logan?" + +"Don't be so wicked as to wrong innocent folk such a way; Jamie never +saw, never heard tell of your money. The unborn babe is not more +guiltless than Jamie Logan." + +"How do _you_ know that? How do _I_ know that? The very night I told +you of the money--that very night I showed you where I kept it--that +night Jamie ought to have been in the boats, and he was not in them. +What do you make of that?" + +"Nothing. He is as innocent as I am." + +"And he was drinking with some strange man at the public. What were +they up to? Tell me that. And then he comes whistling up the road, and +says he missed his boat. A made up story! and after it he goes off to +America! Oh. woman! woman! If you can't put facts together. I can." + +"Jamie never touched a bawbee of your money. I'll ware my life on that. +For I never let on to any mortal creature that you had a penny of +silent money. God Almighty knows I am speaking the truth." + +"You won't dare to bring God Almighty's name into such a black +business. Are you not feared to take it into your mouth?" + +Then Janet laid her hand heavily on his shoulder. He had sat down on +his bed, and was leaning heavily against one of the posts, and the very +fashion of his countenance was changed; his hair stood upright, and he +continually smote his large, nervous hands together. + +"Andrew," said his mother, angrily, "you are just giving yourself up to +Satan. Your passion is beyond seeing, or hearing tell of. And think +shame of yourself for calling your sister a 'thief and a 'liar' and +what not. I wonder what's come over you! Step ben the house, and talk +reasonable to us." + +"Leave me to myself! Leave me to myself! I tell you both to go away. +Will you go? both of you?" + +"I'm your mother, Andrew." + +"Then for God's sake have pity on me, and leave me alone with my +sorrow! Go! Go! I'm not a responsible creature just now--" and his +passion was so stern and terrific that neither of them dared to face +any increase of it. + +So they left him alone and went back to the sputtering fireside--for +the rain was now beating down the chimney--and in awe-struck whispers +Christina told her mother of the money which Andrew had hoarded through +long laborious years, and of the plans which the loss of it would break +to pieces. + +"There would be a thousand pounds, or near by it. Mother, I'm +thinking," said Christina. "You know well how scrimping with himself he +has been. Good fishing or bad fishing, he never had a shilling to spend +on any one. He bought nothing other boys bought; when he was a laddie, +and when he grew to the boats, you may mind that he put all he made +away somewhere. And he made a deal more than folks thought. He had a +bit venture here, and a bit there, and they must have prospered +finely." + +"Not they!" said Janet angrily. "What good has come of them? What good +_could_ come of money, hid away from everybody but himself? Why didn't +he tell his mother? If her thoughts had been round about his siller, it +would not have gone an ill road. A man who hides away his money is just +a miracle of stupidity, for the devil knows where it is if no decent +human soul does." + +It was a mighty sorrow to bear, even for the two women, and Janet wept +like a child over the hopes blasted before she knew of them. "He should +have told us both long since," she sobbed. "I would have been praying +for the bonnie ship building for him, every plank would have been laid +with a blessing. And as I sat quiet in my house, I would have been +thinking of my son Captain Binnie, and many a day would have been a +bright day, that has been but a middling one. So selfish as the lad has +been!" + +"Maybe it wasn't pure selfishness, Mother. He was saving for a good +end." + +"It was pure selfishness! He was that way even about Sophy. Nobody but +himself must have word or look from her, and the lassie just wearied of +him. Why wouldn't she? He put himself and her in a circle, and then +made a wilderness all round about it. And Sophy wanted company, for +when a girl says 'a man is all the world to her,' she doesn't mean that +nobody else is to come into her world. She would be a wicked lass if +she did." + +"Well, Mother, he lost her, and he bore his loss like a man." + +"Ay, men often bear the loss of love easier than the loss of money. +I've seen far more fuss made over the loss of a set of fishing-nets, +than over the brave fellows that handled them. And to think of our +Andrew hiding away his gold all these years for his own hoping and +pleasuring! A perfectly selfish pleasuring! The gold might well take +wings to itself and fly away. He should have clipped the wings of it +with giving a piece to the kirk now and then, and a piece to his mother +and sister at odd times, and the flying wouldn't have been so easy. Now +he has lost the whole, and he well deserves it I'm thinking his Maker +is dourly angry with him for such ways, and I am angry myself." + +"Ah well, Mother, there is no use in our anger; the lad is suffering +enough, and for the rest we must just leave him to the general mercy of +God." + +"'General mercy of God.' Don't let me hear you use the like of such +words, Christina. The minister would tell you it is a very loose +expression and a very dangerous doctrine. He was reproving Elder +McInnes for them very words, and any good minister will be keeping his +thumb on such a wide outgate. Andrew knows well that he has to have the +particular and elected grace of God to keep him where he ought to be. +This hid-away money has given him a sore tumble, and I will tell him so +very plainly." + +"Don't trouble him, Mother. He will not bear words on it, even from +you." + +"He will have to bear them. I am not feared for Andrew Binnie, and he +shall not be left in ignorance of his sin. Whether he knows it or not, +he has done a deed that would make a very poor kind of a Christian +ashamed to look the devil in the face; and I be to let him know it." + +But in the morning Andrew looked so utterly wretched, that Janet could +only pity him. "I'll not be the one to break the bruised reed," she +said to Christina, for the miserable man sat silent with dropped eyes +the whole day long, eating nothing, seeing nothing, and apparently lost +to all interests outside his own bewildering, utterly hopeless +speculations. It was not until another letter came about the ship he +was to command, that he roused himself sufficiently to write and cancel +the whole transaction. He could not keep his promises financially, and +though he was urged to make some other offer, he would have nothing +from The Fleet on any humbler basis than his first proposition. With a +foolish pride, born of his great disappointment and anger, he turned +his back on his broken hopes, and went sullen and sorrowful back to his +fishing-boat. + +He had never been even in his family a very social man. Jokes and songs +and daffing of all kinds were alien to his nature. Yet his grave and +pleasant smile had been a familiar thing, and gentle words had always +hitherto come readily to his lips. But after his ruinous loss, he +seldom spoke unless it was to his mother. Christina he noticed not, +either by word or look, and the poor girl was broken-hearted under this +silent accusation. For she felt that Andrew doubted both her and Jamie, +and though she was indignant at the suspicion, it eat its way into her +heart and tortured her. + +For put the thought away as she would, the fact of Jamie's dereliction +that unfortunate night would return and return, and always with a more +suspicious aspect. Who was the man he was drinking with? Nobody in the +village but Jamie, knew him. He had come and gone in a night. It was +possible that, having missed the boat, Jamie had brought his friend up +the cliff to call on her; that, seeing the light in Andrew's room, they +had looked in at the window, and so might have seen Andrew and herself +standing over the money, and then watched until it was returned to its +hiding-place. Jamie _had_ come whistling in a very pronounced manner up +to the house--that might have been because he had been drinking, and +then again, it might not--and then there was his quarrel with Andrew! +Was that a planned affair, in order to give the other man time to carry +off the box? She could not remember whether the curtain had been drawn +across the window or not; and when she dared to name this doubt to +Andrew, he only answered-- + +"What for are you asking after spilled milk?" + +The whole circumstance was so mysterious that it stupified her. And yet +she felt that it contained all the elements of sorrow and separation +between Jamie and herself. However, she kept assuring her heart that +Jamie would be in Glasgow the following week; and she wrote a letter to +meet him, expressing a strong desire that he would "be sure to come to +Pittendurie, as there was most important business." But she did not +like to tell him what the business was, and Jamie did not answer the +request. In fact, the lad could not, without resigning his position +entirely. The ship had been delayed thirty hours by storms, and there +was nearly double tides of work for every man on her in order that she +might be able to keep her next sailing day. Jamie was therefore so +certain that a request to go on shore about his own concerns would be +denied, that he did not even ask the favour. + +But he wrote to Christina, and explained to her in the most loving +manner the impossibility of his leaving his duties. He said "that for +her sake, as well as his own, he was obligated to remain at his post," +and he assured her that this obligation was "a reasonable one." +Christina believed him fully, and was satisfied, her mother only smiled +with shut lips and remained silent; but Andrew spoke with a bitterness +it was hard to forgive; still harder was it to escape from the wretched +inferences his words implied. + +"No wonder he keeps away from Pittendurie!" he said with a scornful +laugh. "He'll come here no more--unless he is made to come, and if it +was not for mother's sake, and for your good name, Christina, I would +send the constables to the ship to bring him here this very day." + +And Christina could make no answer, save that of passionate weeping. +For it shocked her to see, that her mother did not stand up for Jamie, +but went silently about her house duties, with a face as inscrutable as +the figure-head of Andrew's boat. + +Thus backward, every way flew the wheels of life in the Binnie cottage. +Andrew took a grim pleasure in accepting his poverty before his mother +and sister. In the home he made them feel that everything but the +barest necessities were impossible wants. His newspaper was resigned, +his pipe also, after a little struggle He took his tea without sugar, +he put the butter and marmalade aside, as if they were sinful luxuries, +and in fact reduced his life to the most essential and primitive +conditions it was possible to live it on. And as Janet and Christina +were not the bread winners, and did not know the exact state of the +Binnie finances, they felt obliged to follow Andrew's example. Of +course, all Christina's little extravagances of wedding preparations +were peremptorily stopped. There would be no silk wedding gown now. It +began to look, as if there would be no wedding at all. + +For Andrew's continual suspicions, spoken and unspoken, insensibly +affected her, and that in spite of her angry denials of them. She +fought against their influence, but often in vain, for Jamie did not +come to Pittendurie either after the second or the third voyage. He was +not to blame; it was the winter season, and delays were constant, and +there were other circumstances--with which he had nothing whatever to +do--that still put him in such a position that to ask for leave of +absence meant asking for his dismissal. And then there would be no +prospect at all of his marriage with Christina. + +But the fisher folk, who had their time very much at their own command +and who were nursed in a sense of every individual's independence, did +not realise Jamie's dilemma. It could not be made intelligent to them, +and they began to wonder, and to ask embarrassing questions. Very soon +there was a shake of the head and a sigh of pity whenever "poor +Christina Binnie" was mentioned. + +So four wretched months went by, and then one moonlight night in +February, Christina heard the quick footstep and the joyous whistle she +knew so well. She stood up trembling with pleasure; and as Jamie flung +wide the door, she flew to his arms with an irrepressible cry. For some +minutes he saw nothing and cared for nothing but the girl clasped to +his breast; but as she began to sob, he looked at Janet--who had +purposely gone to the china rack that she might have her back to +him--and then at Andrew who stood white and stern, with both hands in +his pockets, regarding him. + +The young man was confounded by this reception, he released himself +from Christina's embrace, and stepping forward, asked anxiously "What +ever is the matter with you, Andrew? You aren't like yourself at all. +Why, you are ill, man! Oh, but I'm vexed to see you so changed." + +"Where is my money, James Logan? Where is the gold and the bank-notes +you took from me?--the savings of all my lifetime." + +"Your money, Andrew? Your gold and bank-notes? _Me_ take your money! +Why, man, you are either mad or joking--and I'm not liking such jokes +either." Then he turned to Christina and asked, "What does he mean, my +dearie?" + +"I mean this," cried Andrew with gathering passion, "I mean that I had +nearly a thousand pounds taken out of my room yon night that you should +have gone to the boats--and that you did _not_ go." + +"Do you intend to say that I took your thousand pounds? Mind your +words, Andrew Binnie!" and as he spoke, he put Christina behind him and +stood squarely before Andrew. And his face was a flame of passion. + +"I am most sure you took it. Prove to me that you did not." + +Before the words were finished, they were answered with a blow, the +blow was promptly returned; and then the two men closed in a deadly +struggle. Christina was white and sick with terror, but withal glad +that Andrew had found himself so promptly answered. Janet turned +sharply at the first blow, and threw herself between the men. All the +old prowess of the fish-wife was roused in her. + +"How dare you?" she cried in a temper quite equal to their own. "I'll +have no cursing and fighting in my house," and with a twist of her hand +in her son's collar, she threw him back in his chair. Then she turned +to Jamie and cried angrily-- + +"Jamie Logan, my bonnie lad, if you have got nothing to say for +yourself, you'll do well to take your way down the cliff." + +"I have been called a 'thief' in this house," he answered; and wounded +feeling and a bitter sense of wrong made his voice tremble. "I came +here to kiss my bride; and I know nothing at all of what Andrew means. +I will swear it. Give me the Bible." + +"Let my Bible alone," shouted Andrew. "I'll have no man swear to a lie +on my Bible. Get out of my house, James Logan, and be thankful that I +don't call the officers to take care of you." + +"There is a mad man inside of you, Andrew Binnie, or a devil of some +kind, and you are not fit to be in the same house with good women. Come +with me, Christina. I'll marry you tonight at the Largo minister's +house. Come my dear lassie. Never mind aught you have, but your +plaidie." + +Christina rose and put out her hand. Andrew leaped to his feet and +strode between them. + +"I will strike you to the ground, if you dare to touch my sister +again," he shouted, and if Janet had not taken both his hands in her +own strong grip, Andrew would have kept his threat. Then Janet's anger +turned most unreasonably upon Christina-- + +"Go ben the house," she screamed. "Go ben the house, you worrying, +whimpering lassie. You will be having the whole village fighting about +you the next thing." + +"I am going with Jamie, Mother." + +"I will take very good care, you do _not_ go with Jamie. There is not a +soul, but Jamie Logan, will leave this house tonight. I would just like +to see any other man or woman try it," and she looked defiantly both at +Andrew and Christina. + +"I ran the risk of losing my berth to come here," said Jamie. "More +fool, I. I have been called 'thief' and 'loon' for doing it. I came for +your sake, Christina, and now you must go with me for my sake. Come +away, my dearie, and there is none that shall part us more." + +Again Christina rose, and again her mother interfered. "You will go out +of this house alone, Jamie Logan. I don't know whether you are right or +wrong. I know nothing about that weary siller. But I do know there has +been nothing but trouble to my boy since he saved you from the sea. I +am not saying it is your fault; but the sea has been against him ever +since, and now you will go away, and you will stay away." + +"Christina, am I to go?" + +"Go, Jamie, but I will come to you, and there is none that shall keep +me from you." + +Then Jamie went, and far down on the sands Christina heard him call, +"Good-bye, Christina! Good-bye!" And she would have answered him, but +Janet had locked the door, and the key was in her pocket. Then for +hours the domestic storm raged, Andrew growing more and more positive +and passionate, until even Janet was alarmed, and with tears and +coaxing persuaded him to go to bed. Still in this hurly burly of +temper, Christina kept her purpose intact. She was determined to go to +Glasgow as soon as she could get outside. If she was in time for a +marriage with Jamie, she would be his wife at once. If Jamie had gone, +then she would hire herself out until the return of his ship. + +This was the purpose she intended to carry out in the morning, but +before the dawn her mother awakened her out of a deep sleep. She was in +a sweat of terror. + +"Run up the cliff for Thomas Roy," she cried, "and then send Sandy for +the doctor." + +"What is the matter, Mother." + +"Your brother Andrew is raving, and clean beyond himself, and I'm +feared for him, and for us all. Quick Christina! There is not a moment +to lose!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE BEGINNING OF THE END + + +On this same night the Mistress of Braelands sat musing by the glowing +bit of fire in her bedroom, while her maid, Allister, was folding away +her silk dinner-gown, and making the preparations for the night's +toilet. She was a stately, stern-looking woman, with that air of +authority which comes from long and recognised position. Her +dressing-gown of pale blue flannel fell amply around her tall form; her +white hair was still coiled and puffed in an elaborate fashion, and +there was at the wrist-bands of her sleeves a fall of lace which half +covered her long, shapely white hands. She was pinching its plaits +mechanically, and watching the effect as she idly turned them in the +firelight to catch the gleam of opal and amethyst rings. But this +accompaniment to her thoughts was hardly a conscious one; she had +admired her hands for so many years that she was very apt to give to +their beauty this homage of involuntary observation, even when her +thoughts were fixed on subjects far-off and alien to them. + +"Allister," she said, suddenly, "I wonder where Mr. Archibald will be +this night." + +"The Lord knows, Madame, and it is well he does; for it is little we +know of ourselves and the ways we walk in." + +"The Lord looks after his own, Allister, and Mr. Archibald was given to +him by kirk and parents before he was a month old. But if a man marries +such a woman as you know nothing about, and then goes her ways, what +will you say then?" + +"It is not as bad as that, Madame. Mrs. Archibald is of well-known +people, though poor." + +"Though low-born, Allister. Poverty can be tholed, and even respected; +but for low birth there is no remedy but being born over again." + +"Well, Madame, she is Braelands now, and that is a cloak to cover all +defects; and if I was you I would just see that it did so." + +"She is my son's wife, and must be held as such, both by gentle and +simple." + +"And there is few ills that have not a good side to them, Madame. If +Mr. Archibald had married Miss Roberta Elgin, as you once feared he +would do, there would have been a flitting for you and for me, Madame. +Miss Roberta would have had the whole of Braelands House to herself, +and the twenty-two rooms of it wouldn't have been enough for her. And +she would have taken the Braelands's honour and glory on her own +shoulders. It would have been 'Mrs. Archibald Braelands' here and there +and everywhere, and you would have been pushed out of sight and +hearing, and passed by altogether, like as not; for if youth and beauty +and wealth and good blood set themselves to have things their own way, +which way at all will age that is not rich keep for itself? Sure as +death, Madame, you would have had to go to the Dower House, which is +but a mean little place, though big enough, no doubt, for all the +friends and acquaintances that would have troubled themselves to know +you there." + +"You are not complimentary, Allister. I think I have few friends who +would _not_ have followed me to the Dower House." + +"Surely, Madame, you may as well think so. But carriages aye stop at +big houses; indeed, the very coachmen and footmen and horses are dead +set against calling at cottages. There is many a lady who would be +feared to ask her coachman to call at the Dower House. But what for am +I talking? There is no occasion to think that Mrs. Archibald will ever +dream of sending you out of his house." + +"I came here a bride, nearly forty years ago, Allister," she said, with +a touch of sentimental pity for herself in the remembrance. + +"So you have had a long lease, Madame, and one like to be longer; for +never a better son than your son; and I do think for sure that the lady +he has married will be as biddable as a very child with you." + +"I hope so. For she will have everything to learn about society, and +who can teach her better than I can, Allister?" + +"No one, Madame; and Mrs. Archibald was ever good at the uptake. I am +very sure if you will show her this and that, and give her the word +here and there yourself, Madame, there will be no finer lady in Fife +before the year has come and gone. And she cannot be travelling with +Mr. Archibald without learning many a thing all the winter long." + +"Yes, they will not be home before the spring, I hear." + +"And oh, Madame, by that date you will have forgot that all was not as +you wanted it! And no doubt you will give the young things the loving +welcome they are certain to be longing for." + +"I do not know, Allister. The marriage was a great sorrow, and shame, +and disappointment to me. I am not sure that I have forgiven it." + +"Lady Beith was saying you never would forgive it. She was saying that +you could never forgive any one's faults but your own." + +"Lady Beith is very impertinent. And pray what faults has Lady Beith +ever seen in me?" + +"It was her general way of speaking, Madame. She has that way." + +"Then you might tell Lady Beith's woman, that such general ways of +speaking are extremely vulgar. When her ladyship speaks of the Mistress +of Braelands again, I will ask her to refer to me, particularly. I have +my own virtues as well as my own faults, and my own position, and my +own influence, and I do not go into the generalities of life. I am the +Mistress of Braelands yet, I hope." + +"I hope so, Madame. As I was saying, Mrs. Archibald is biddable as a +child; but then again, she is quite capable of taking the rudder into +her own hands, and driving in the teeth of the wind. You can't ever be +sure of fisher blood. It is like the ocean, whiles calm as a sleeping +baby, whiles lashing itself into a very fury. There is both this and +that in the Traills, and Mrs. Archibald is one of them." + +"Any way and every way, this marriage is a great sorrow to me." + +"I am not disputing that, Madame; but I am sure you remember what the +minister was saying to you at his last visitation--that every sorrow +you got the mastery over was a benefactor." + +"The minister is not always orthodox, Allister." + +"He is a very good man; every one is saying that." + +"No doubt, no doubt, but he deviates." + +"Well then, Madame, even if the marriage be as bad as you fancy it, bad +things as well as good ones come to an end, and life, after all, is +like a bit of poetry I picked up somewhere, which says: + + There's nane exempt frae worldly cares + And few frae some domestic jars + Whyles _all_ are in, whyles _all_ are out, + And grief and joy come turn about. + +And it's the turn now for the young people to be happy. Cold and bleak +it is here on the Fife coast, but they are among roses and sunshine and +so God bless them, I say, and keep us and every one from cutting short +their turn of happiness. You had your bride time, Madame, and when +Angus McAllister first took me to his cottage in Strathmoyer, I thought +I was on a visit to Paradise." + +"Give me my glass of negus, and then I will go to bed. Everybody has +taken to preaching and advising lately, and that is not the kind of +fore-talk that spares after-talk--not it, Allister." + +She sunk then into unapproachable silence, and Allister knew that she +needed not try to move her further that night in any direction. Her +eyes were fixed upon the red coals, but she was really thinking of the +roses and sunshine of the South, and picturing to herself her son and +his bride, wandering happily amid the warmth and beauty. + +In reality, they were crossing the Braelands's moor at that very moment +The rain was beating against the closed windows of their coach, and the +horses floundering heavily along the boggy road. Sophy's head rested on +her husband's shoulder, but they were not talking, nor had they spoken +for some time. Both indeed were tired and depressed, and Archie at +least was unpleasantly conscious of the wonderment their unexpected +return would cause. + +The end of April or the beginning of May had been the time appointed, +and yet here they were, at the threshold of their home, in the middle +of the winter. Sophy's frail health had been Archie's excuse for a +season in the South with her; and she was coming back to Scotland when +the weather was at its very bleakest and coldest. One excuse after +another formed itself in Archie's mind, only to be peremptorily +dismissed. "It is no one's business but our own," he kept assuring +himself, "and I will give neither reason nor apology but my wife's +desire." and yet he knew that reasons and apologies would be asked, and +he was fretting inwardly at their necessity, and wondering vaguely if +women ever did know what they really wanted. + +For to go to France and Germany and Italy, had seemed to Sophy the very +essence of every joy in life. Before her marriage, she had sat by +Archie's side hour after hour, listening to his descriptions of foreign +lands, and dreaming of all the delights that were to meet her in them. +She had started on this bridal trip with all her senses set to an +unnatural key of expectation, and she had, of course, suffered +continual disappointments and disillusions. The small frets and +sicknesses of travel, the loneliness of being in places where she could +not speak even to her servants, or go shopping without an attendant, +the continual presence of what was strange--of what wounded her +prejudices and very often her conscience,--and the constant absence +of all that was familiar and approved, were in themselves no slight +cause of unhappiness. + +Yet it had been a very gradual disillusion, and one mitigated by many +experiences that had fully justified even Sophy's extravagant +anticipations. The trouble, in the main, was one common to a great +majority of travellers for pleasure--a mind totally unprepared for +the experience. + +She grew weary of great cities which had no individual character or +history in her mind; weary of fine hotels in which she was of no +special importance; weary of art which had no meaning for her. Her +child-like enthusiasms, which at first both delighted and embarrassed +her husband, faded gradually away; the present not only lost its charm, +but she began to look backward to the homely airs and scenes of Fife, +and to suffer from a nostalgia that grew worse continually. + +However, Archie bore her unreasonable depression with great +consideration. She was but a frail child after all, and she was in a +condition of health demanding the most affectionate patience and +tenderness he could give her. Besides, it was no great sin in his eyes +to be sick with longing for dear old Scotland. He loved his native +land; and his little mountain blue-bell, trembling in every breeze, and +drooping in every hour of heat and sunshine, appealed to the very best +instincts of his nature. And when Sophy began to voice her longing, to +cry a little in his arms, and to say she was wearying for a sight of +the great grey sea round her Fife home, Archie vowed he was homesick as +a man could be, and asked, "why they should stop away from their own +dear land any longer?" + +"People will wonder and talk so, Archie They will say unkind +things--they will maybe say we are not happy together." + +"Let them talk. What care we? And we are happy together. Do you want to +go back to Scotland tomorrow? today--this very hour?" + +"Aye. I do, Archie. And I am that weak and poorly, if I don't go soon, +maybe I will have to wait a long time, and then you know." + +"Yes, I know. And that would never, never do. Braelands of Fife cannot +run the risk of having his heir born in a foreign country. Why, it +would be thrown up to the child, lad and man, as long as he lived! So +call your maid, my bonnie Sophy, and set her to packing all your braws +and pretty things, and we will turn our faces to Scotland's hills and +braes tomorrow morning." + +Thus it happened that on that bleak night in February, Archie Braelands +and his wife came suddenly to their home amid the stormy winds and +rains of a stormy night. Madame heard the wheels of their carriage as +she sat sipping her negus, and thinking over her conversation with +Allister and her alert soul instantly divined _who_ the late comers +were. + +"Give me my silk morning gown and my brocade petticoat, Allister," she +cried, as she rose up hastily and set down her glass. "Mr. Archibald +has come home; his carriage is at the door--haste ye, woman!" + +"Will you be heeding your silks to-night, Madame?" + +"Get them at once. Quick! Do you think I will meet the bride in a +flannel dressing-gown? No, no! I am not going to lose ground the first +hour." + +With nervous haste the richer garments were donned, and just as the +final gold brooch was clasped, Archie knocked at his mother's door. She +opened to him with her own hands, and took him to her heart with an +effusive affection she rarely permitted herself to exhibit. + +"I am so glad that you are dressed, Mother," he said. "Sophy must not +miss your welcome, and the poor little woman is just weary to death." +Then he whispered some words to her, which brought a flush of pride and +joy to his own face, but no such answering response to Madame's. + +"Indeed," she replied, "I am sorry she is so tired. It seems to me, +that the women of this generation are but weak creatures." + +Then she took her son's arm, and went down to the parlour, where +servants were re-kindling the fire, and setting a table with +refreshments for the unexpected guests. Sophy was resting on a sofa +drawn towards the hearth. Archie had thrown his travelling cloak of +black fox over her, and her white, flower-like face, surrounded by the +black fur, had a singularly pathetic beauty. She opened her large blue +eyes as Madame approached and looked at her with wistful entreaty; and +Madame, in spite of all her pre-arrangements of conduct, was unable at +that hour not to answer the appeal for affection she saw in them. She +stooped and kissed the childlike little woman, and Archie watched this +token of reconciliation and promise with eyes wet with happiness. + +When supper was served, Madame took her usual place at the head of the +table, and Archie noticed the circumstance, though it did not seem a +proper time to make any remark about it. For Sophy was not able to eat, +and did not rise from her couch; and Madame seemed to fall so properly +into her character of hostess, that it would have been churlish to have +made the slightest dissent. Yet it was a false kindness to both; for in +the morning Madame took the same position, and Archie felt less able +than on the previous night to make any opposition, though he had told +himself continually on his homeward journey that he would not suffer +Sophy to be imposed upon, and would demand for her the utmost title of +her rights as his wife. + +In this resolve, however, he had forgot to take into account his +mother's long and absolute influence over him. When she was absent, it +was comparatively easy to relegate her to the position she ought to +occupy; when she was present, he found it impossible to say or do +anything which made her less than Mistress of Braelands. And during the +first few weeks after her return, Sophy helped her mother-in-law +considerably against herself. She was so anxious to please, so anxious +to be loved, so afraid of making trouble for Archie, that she submitted +without protest to one infringement after another on her rights as the +wife of the Master of Braelands. All the same she was dumbly conscious +of the wrong being done to her; and like a child, she nursed her sense +of the injustice until it showed itself in a continual mood of sullen, +silent protest. + +After the lapse of a month or more, she became aware that even her ill +health was used as a weapon against her, and she suddenly resolved to +throw off her lassitude, and assert her right to go out and call upon +her friends. But she was petulant and foolish in the carrying out of +the measure. She had made up her mind to visit her aunt on the +following day, and though the weather was bitterly cold and damp, she +adhered to her resolution. Madame, at first politely, finally with +provoking positiveness, told her "she would not permit her to risk her +life, and a life still more precious, for any such folly." + +Then Sophy rose, with a sudden excitement of manner, and rang the bell. +When the servant appeared, she ordered the carriage to be ready for her +in half an hour. Madame waited until they were alone, and then said: + +"Sophy, go to your room and lie down. You are not fit to go out. I +shall counter-order the carriage in your name." + +"You will not," cried the trembling, passionate girl. "You have ordered +and counter-ordered in my name too much. You will, in the future, mind +your own affairs, and leave me to attend to mine." + +"When Archie comes back" + +"You will tell him all kinds of lies. I know that." + +"I do not lie." + +"Perhaps not; but you misrepresent things so, that you make it +impossible for Archie to get at the truth. I want to see my aunt. You +have kept me from her, and kept her from me, until I am sick for a +sight of those who _really_ love me. I am going to Aunt Kilgour's this +very morning, whether you like it or not." + +"You shall not leave this house until Archie comes back from Largo. I +will not take the responsibility." + +"We shall see. _I_ will take the responsibility myself. _I_ am mistress +of Braelands. You will please remember that fact. And I know my rights, +though I have allowed you to take them from me." + +"Sophy, listen to me." + +"I am going to Aunt Kilgour's." + +"Archie will be very angry." + +"Not if you will let him judge for himself. Anyway, I don't care. I am +going to see my aunt! You expect Archie to be always thinking of +feelings, and your likes and dislikes. I have just as good a right to +care about my aunt's feelings. She was all the same as mother to me. I +have been a wicked lassie not to have gone to her lang syne." + +"Wicked lassie! Lang syne! I wish you would at least try to speak like +a lady." + +"I am not a lady. I am just one of God's fisher folk. I want to see my +own kith and kin. I am going to do so." + +"You are not--until your husband gives you permission." + +"Permission! do you say? I will go on my own permission, Sophy +Braelands's permission." + +"It is a shame to take the horses out in such weather--and poor old +Thomas." + +"Shame or not, I shall take them out." + +"Indeed, no! I cannot permit you to make a fool and a laughing-stock of +yourself." She rang the bell sharply and sent for the coachman When he +appeared, she said: + +"Thomas, I think the horses had better not go out this morning. It is +bitterly cold, and there is a storm coming from the northeast. Do you +not think so?" + +"It is a bad day, Madame, and like to be worse." + +"Then we will not go out." + +As Madame uttered the words, Sophy walked rapidly forward. All the +passion of her Viking ancestors was in her face, which had undergone a +sort of transfiguration. Her eyes flashed, her soft curly yellow hair +seemed instinct with a strange life and brilliancy, and she said with +an authority that struck Madame with amazement and fear: + +"Thomas, you will have the carriage at the door in fifteen minutes, +exactly," and she drew out her little jewelled watch, and gave him the +time with a smiling, invincible calmness. + +Thomas looked from one woman to the other, and said, fretfully, "A man +canna tak' twa contrary orders at the same minute o' time. What will I +do in the case?" + +"You will do as I tell you, Thomas," said Madame. "You have done so for +twenty years. Have you come to any scath or wrong by it?" + +"If the carriage is not at the door in fifteen minutes, you will leave +Braelands this night, Thomas," said Sophy. "Listen! I give you fifteen +minutes; after that I shall walk into Largo, and you can answer to your +master for it. I am Mistress of Braelands. Don't forget that fact if +you want to keep your place, Thomas." + +She turned passionately away with the words, and left the room. In +fifteen minutes she went to the front door in her cloak and hood, and +the carriage was waiting there. "You will drive me to my aunt Kilgour's +shop," she said with an air of reckless pride and defiance. It pleased +her at that hour to humble herself to her low estate. And it pleased +Thomas also that she had done so. His sympathy was with the fisher +girl. He was delighted that she had at last found courage to assert +herself, for Sophy's wrongs had been the staple talk of the +kitchen-table and fireside. + +"No born lady I ever saw," he said afterwards to the cook, "could have +held her own better. It will be an even fight between them two now, and +I will bet my shilling on fisherman Traill's girl." + +"Madame has more wit, and more _hold out_" answered the cook. "Mrs. +Archibald is good for a spurt, but I'll be bound she cried her eyes red +at Griselda Kilgour's, and was as weak as a baby." + +This opinion was a perfectly correct one. Once in her aunt's little +back parlour, Sophy gave full sway to her childlike temper. She told +all her wrongs, and was comforted by her kinswoman's interest and pity, +and strengthened in her resolution to resist Madame's interference with +her life. And then the small black teapot was warmed and filled, and +Sophy begged for a herring and a bit of oatcake; and the two women sat +close to one another, and Miss Kilgour told Sophy all the gossip and +clash of gossip there had been about Christina Binnie and her lover, +and how the marriage had been broken off, no one knowing just why, but +many thinking that since Jamie Logan had got a place on "The Line," he +was set on bettering himself with a girl something above the like of +Christina Binnie. + +And as they talked Helen Marr came into the shop for a yard of ribbon, +and said it was the rumour all through Pittendurie, that Andrew Binnie +was all but dead, and folks were laying all the blame upon the Mistress +of Braelands, for that every one knew that Andrew had never held up his +head an hour since her marriage. And though Miss Kilgour did not +encourage this phase of gossip, yet the woman would persist in +describing his sufferings, and the poverty that had come to the Binnies +with the loss of their only bread-winner, and the doctors to pay, and +the medicine folks said they had not the money to buy, and much more of +the same sort, which Sophy heard every word of, knowing also that Helen +Marr must have seen her carriage at the door, and so, knowing of her +presence, had determined that she should hear it. + +Certainly if Helen had wished to wound her to the very heart, she +succeeded. When Miss Kilgour got rid of her customer, and came back to +Sophy, she found her with her face in the pillow, sobbing passionately +about the trouble of her old friends. She did not name Andrew, but the +thought of his love and suffering hurt her sorely, and she could not +endure to think of Janet's and Christina's long hardships and sorrow. +For she knew well how much they would blame her, and the thought of +their anger, and of her own apparent ingratitude, made her sick with +shame and grief. And as they talked of this new trouble, and Sophy sent +messages of love and pity to Janet and Christina, the shop-bell rung +violently, and Sophy heard her husband's step, and in another moment he +was at her side, and quite inclined to be very angry with her for +venturing out in such miserable weather. + +Then Sophy seized her opportunity, and Miss Kilgour left them alone for +the explanation that was better to be made there than at Braelands. And +for once Archie took his wife's part without reservation. He was not +indeed ill-pleased that she had assumed her proper position, and when +he slipped a crown into Thomas's hand, the man also knew that he had +done wisely. Indeed there was something in the coachman's face and air +which affected Madame unpleasantly, before she noticed that Sophy had +returned in her husband's company, and that they were evidently on the +most affectionate terms. + +"I have lost this battle," she said to herself, and she wisely +retreated to her own room, and had a nominal headache, and a very +genuine heartache about the loss. + +All day long Sophy was at an unnatural pitch, all day long she exerted +herself, as she had not done for weeks and months, to entertain and +keep her husband at her side, and all day long her pretty wifely +triumph was bright and unbroken. The very servants took a delight in +ministering to it, and Madame was not missed in a single item of the +household routine. But about midnight there was a great and sudden +change. Bells were frantically rung, lights flew about the house, and +there was saddling of horses and riding in hot haste into Largo for any +or all the doctors that could be found. + +Then Madame came quietly from her seclusion, and resumed her place as +head of the household, for the little mistress of one day lay in her +chamber quite unconscious of her lost authority. Some twelve hours +later, the hoped-for heir of Braelands was born, and died, and Sophy, +on the very outermost shoal of life, felt the wash and murmur of that +dark river which flows to the Eternal Sea. + +It was no time to reproach the poor little wife, and yet Madame did not +scruple to do so. "She had warned Sophy,--she had begged her not to go +out--she had been insulted for endeavouring to prevent what had come to +pass just as she had predicted." And in spite of Archie's love and +pity, her continual regrets did finally influence him. He began to +think he had been badly used, and to agree with Madame in her +assertions that Sophy must be put under some restrictions, and +subjected to some social instruction. + +"The idea of the Braelands's carriage standing two hours at Griselda +Kilgour's shop door! All the town talking about it! Every one wondering +what had happened at Braelands, to drive your wife out of doors in such +weather. All sorts of rumours about you and Sophy, and Griselda shaking +her head and sighing and looking unspeakable things, just to keep the +curiosity alive; and the crowds of gossiping women coming and going to +her shop. Many a cap and bonnet has been sold to your name, Archie, no +doubt, and I can tell you my own cheeks are kept burning with the shame +of the whole affair! And then this morning, the first thing she said to +me was, that she wanted to see her cousins Isobel and Christina." + +"She asked me also about them, Mother, and really, I think she had +better be humoured in this matter. Our friends are not her friends." + +"They ought to be." + +"Let us be just. When has she had any opportunity to make them so? She +has seen no one yet,--her health has been so bad--and it did often +look. Mother, as if you encouraged her _not_ to see callers." + +"Perhaps I did, Archie. You cannot blame me. Her manners are so crude, +so exigent, so effusive. She is so much pleased, or so indifferent +about people; so glad to see them, or else so careless as to how she +treats them. You have no idea what I suffered when Lady Blair called, +and insisted on meeting your wife. Of course she pretended to fall in +love with her, and kissed, and petted, and flattered Sophy, until the +girl hardly knew what she was doing or saying. And as for 'saying,' she +fell into broad Scotch, as she always does when she is pleased or +excited, and Lady Blair professed herself charmed, and talked broad +Scotch back to her. And I? I sat tingling with shame and annoyance, for +I knew right well what mockeries and laughter Sophy was supplying +Annette Blair with for her future visitors." + +"I think you are wrong. Lady Blair is not at all ill-natured. She was +herself a poor minister's daughter, and accustomed to go in and out of +the fishers' cottages. I can imagine that she would really be charmed +with Sophy." + +"You can 'imagine' what you like; that will not alter the real state of +the case; and if Sophy is ever to take her position as your wife, she +must be prepared for it. Besides which, it will be a good thing to give +her some new interests in life, for she must drop the old ones. About +that there cannot be two opinions." + +"What then do you propose, Mother?" + +"I should get proper teachers for her. Her English education has been +frightfully neglected; and she ought to learn music and French." + +"She speaks French pretty well. I never saw any one pick up a language +as cleverly as she did the few weeks we were in Paris." + +"O, she is clever enough if she wants to be! There is a French woman +teaching at Miss Linley's Seminary. She will perfect her. And I have +heard she also plays well. It would be a good thing to engage her for +Sophy, two or three hours a day. A teacher for grammar, history, +writing, etc., is easily found. I myself will give her lessons in +social etiquette, and in all things pertaining to the dignity and +decorum which your wife ought to exhibit. Depend upon it, Archie, this +routine is absolutely necessary. It will interest and occupy her idle +hours, of which she has far too many; and it will wean her better than +any other thing from her low, uncultivated relations." + +"The poor little woman says she wants to be loved; that she is lonely +when I am away; that no one but the servants care for her; that +therefore she wants to see her cousins and kinsfolk." + +"She does me a great injustice. I would love her if she would be +reasonable--if she would only trust me. But idle hearts are lonely +hearts, Archie. Tell her you wish her to study, and fit herself for the +position you have raised her to. Surely the desire to please you ought +to be enough. Do you know _who_ this Christina Binnie is that she talks +so continually about?" + +"Her fourth or fifth cousin, I believe." + +"She is the sister of the man you won Sophy from--the man whom you +struck across the cheek with your whip. Now do you wish her to see +Christina Binnie!" + +"Yes, I do! Do you think I am jealous or fearful of my wife? No, by +Heaven! No! Sophy may be unlearned and unfashionable, but she is loyal +and true, and if she wants to see her old lover and his sister, she has +my full permission. As for the fisherman, he behaved very nobly. And I +did not intend to strike him. It was an accident, and I shall apologise +for it the first opportunity I have to do so." + +"You are a fool, Archie Braelands." + +"I am a husband, who knows his wife's heart and who trusts in it. And +though I think you are quite right in your ideas about Sophy's +education, I do not think you are right in objecting to her seeing her +old friends. Every one in this bound of Fife knows that I married a +fisher-girl. I never intend to be ashamed of the fact. If our social +world will accept her as the representative of my honour and my family, +I shall be obliged to the world. If it will not, I can live without its +approval--having Sophy to love me and live with me. I counted all this +cost before I married; you may be sure of that, Mother." + +"You forgot, however, to take my honour and feelings into your +consideration." + +"I knew, Mother, that you were well able to protect your own honour and +feelings." + +This conversation but indicates the tone of many others which occupied +the hours mother and son passed together during Sophy's convalescence. +And the son, being the weaker character of the two, was insensibly +moved and moulded to all Madame's opinions. Indeed, before Sophy was +well enough to begin the course of study marked out for her, Archie had +become thoroughly convinced that it was his first duty to his wife and +himself to insist upon it. + +The weak, loving woman made no objections. Indeed, Archie's evident +enthusiasm sensibly affected her own desires. She listened with +pleasure to the plans for her education, and promised "as soon as she +was able, to do her very best." + +And there was a strange pathos in the few words "as soon as I am able," +which Archie remembered years afterwards, when it was far too late. At +the moment, they touched him but lightly, but _Oh, afterwards!_ Oh, +afterwards! when memory brought back the vision of the small white face +on the white pillow, and the faint golden light of the golden curls +shadowing the large blue eyes that even then had in them that wide gaze +and wistfulness that marks those predestined for sorrow or early death. +Alas! Alas! We see too late, we hear too late, when it is the dead who +open the eyes and the ears of the living! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A GREAT DELIVERANCE + + +While these clouds of sorrow were slowly gathering in the splendid +house of Braelands, there was a full tide of grief and anxiety in the +humble cottage of the Binnies. The agony of terror which had changed +Janet Binnie's countenance, and sent Christina flying up the cliff for +help, was well warranted by Andrew's condition. The man was in the most +severe maniacal delirium of brain inflammation, and before the dawning +of the next day, required the united strength of two of his mates to +control him. To leave her mother and brother in this extremity would +have been a cruelty beyond the contemplation of Christina Binnie. Its +possibility never entered her mind. All her anger and sense of wrong +vanished before the pitiful sight of the strong man in the throes of +his mental despair and physical agony. She could not quite ignore her +waiting lover, even in such an hour; but she was not a ready writer, so +her words were few and to the point:-- + +DEAR JAMIE--Andrew is ill and like to die, and my place, dear lad, is +here, until some change come. I must stand by mother and Andrew now, +and you yourself would bid me do so. Death is in the house and by the +pillow, and there is only God's mercy to trust to. Andrew is clean off +his senses, and ill to manage, so you will know that he was not in +reason when he spoke so wrong to you, and you will be sorry for him and +forgive the words he said, because he did not know what he was saying; +and now he knows nothing at all, not even his mother. Do not forget to +pray for us in our sorrow, dear Jamie, and I will keep ever a prayer +round about you in case of danger on the sea or on land. Your true, +troth-plighted wife, + +CHRISTINA BINNIE + + +This letter was her last selfish act for many a week. After it had been +written, she put all her own affairs out of her mind and set herself +with heart and soul, by day and by night, to the duty before her. She +suffered no shadow of the bygone to darken her calm strong face or to +weaken the hands and heart from which so much was now expected. And she +continually told herself not to doubt in these dark days the mercy of +the Eternal, taking hope and comfort, as she went about her duties, +from a few words Janet had said, even while she was weeping bitterly +over her son's sufferings-- + +"But I am putting all fear Christina, under my feet, for nothing comes +to pass without helping on some great end." + +Now what great end Andrew's severe illness was to help on, Christina +could not divine; but like her brave mother, she put fear under her +feet, and looked confidently for "the end" which she trusted would be +accomplished in God's time and mercy. + +So week after week the two women walked with love and courage by the +sick man's side, through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Often his +life lay but within his lips, and they watched with prayer continually, +lest he should slip away to them that had gone before, wanting its +mighty shield in the great perilous journey of the soul. And though +there is no open vision in these days, yet His Presence is ever near to +those who seek him with all the heart. So that wonderful things were +seen and experienced in that humble room, where the man lay at the +point of death. + +Andrew had his share of these experiences. Whatever God said to the +waiting, watching women, He kept for His suffering servant some of His +richest consolations, and so made all his bed in his sickness. Andrew +was keenly sensible of these ministrations, and he grew strong in their +heavenly strength; for though the vaults of God are full of wine, the +soul that has drunk of His strong wine of Pain knows that it has tasted +the costliest vintage of all, and asks on this earth no better. + +And as our thoughts affect our surroundings, quite as much as rain or +sunshine affect the atmosphere, these two women, with the sick man on +their hearts and hands, were not unhappy women. They did their very +best, and trusted God for the outcome. Thus Heaven helped them, and +their neighbours helped them, and taking turns in their visitation, +they found the Kirk also to be a big, calm friend in the time of their +trouble. And then one morning, before the dawn broke, when life seemed +to be at its lowest point, when hope was nearly gone, and the shadow of +Death fell across the sick man's face, there was suddenly a faint, +strange flutter. Some mighty one went out of the door, as the sunshine +touched the lintel, and the life began to turn back, just as the tide +began to flow. + +Then Janet rose up softly and opened the house door, and looking at her +son and at the turning waters, she said solemnly:-- + +"Thank God, Christina! He has turned with the tide? He is all right +now." + +It was April, however, in its last days, before Andrew had strength +sufficient to go down the cliff, and the first news he heard in the +village, was that Mistress Braelands had lain at death's door also. +Doubtless it explained some testimony private to his own experience, +for he let the intelligence pass through his ear-chambers into his +heart, without remark, but it made there a great peace--a peace pure +and loving as that which passeth understanding. + +There was, however, no hope or expectation of his resuming work until +the herring fishing in June, and Janet and Christina were now suffering +sorely from a strange dilemma. Never before in all their lives had they +known what it was to be pinched for ready money. It was hard for Janet +to realise that there was no longer "a little bit in the Largo bank to +fall back on." Naturally economical, and always regarding it as a +sacred duty to live within the rim of their shilling, they had never +known either the slow terror of gathering debt, or the acute pinch of +actual necessity. But Andrew's long sickness, with all its attendant +expenses, had used up all Janet's savings, and the day at last dawned +when they must either borrow money, or run into debt. + +It was a strange and humiliating position, especially after Janet's +little motherly bragging about her Christina's silken wedding gown, and +brawly furnished floor in Glasgow. Both mother and daughter felt it +sorely; and Christina looked at her brother with some little angry +amazement, for he appeared to be quite oblivious of their cruel strait. +He said little about his work, and never spoke at all about Sophy or +his lost money. In the tremendous furnace of his affliction, these +elements of it appeared to have been utterly consumed. + +Neither mother nor sister liked to remind him of them, nor yet to point +out the poverty to which his long sickness had reduced them. It might +be six weeks before the herring fishing roused him to labour, and they +had spent their last sixpence. Janet began seriously to think of +lifting the creel to her shoulders again, and crying "fresh fish" in +Largo streets. It was so many years since she had done this, that the +idea was painful both to Christina and herself. The girl would gladly +have taken her mother's place, but this Janet would not hearken to. As +yet, her daughter had never had to haggle and barter among fish wives, +and house-wives; and she would not have her do it for a passing +necessity. Besides Jamie might not like it; and for many other reasons, +the little downcome would press hardest upon Christina. + +There was one other plan by which a little ready money could be +raised--that was, to get a small mortgage on the cottage, and when all +had been said for and against this project, it seemed, after all, to be +the best thing to do. + +Griselda Kilgour had money put away, and Christina was very certain she +would be glad to help them on such good security as a house and an acre +or two of land. Certainly Janet and Griselda had parted in bad bread at +their last interview, but in such a time of trouble, Christina did not +believe that her kinswoman would remember ill words that had passed, +especially as they were about Sophy's marriage--a subject on which they +had every right to feel hurt and offended. + +Still a mortgage on their home was a dreadful alternative to these +simple-minded women; they looked upon it as something very like a +disgrace. "A lawyer's foot on the threshold," said Janet, "and who or +what is to keep him from putting the key of the cottage in his own +pocket, and sending us into a cold and roofless world? No! No! +Christina. I had better by far lift the creel to my shoulders again. +Thank God, I have the health and strength to do it!" + +"And what will folks be saying of me, to let you ware yourself on the +life of that work in your old age? If you turn fish-wife again, then I +be to seek service with some one who can pay me for my hands' work." + +"Well, well, my dear lass, to-night we cannot work, but we may sleep; +and many a blessing comes, and us not thinking of it. Lie down a wee, +and God will comfort you; forbye, the pillow often gives us good +counsel. Keep a still heart tonight, and tomorrow is another day." + +Janet followed her own advice, and was soon sleeping as soundly and as +sweetly as a play-tired child; but Christina sat in the open doorway, +thinking of the strait they were in, and wondering if it would not be +the kindest and wisest thing to tell Andrew plainly of their necessity. +Sooner or later, he would find out that his mother was making his bread +for him; and she thought such knowledge, coming from strangers, or +through some accident, would wound him more severely than if she +herself explained their hard position to him. As for the mortgage, the +very thought of it made her sick. "It is just giving our home away, bit +by bit--that is what a mortgage is--and whatever we are to do, and +whatever I ought to do, God only knows!" + +Yet in spite of the stress of this, to her, terrible question, a +singular serenity possessed her. It was as if she had heard a voice +saying "Peace, be still!" She thought it was the calm of nature,--the +high tide breaking gently on the shingle with a low murmur, the soft +warmth, the full moonshine, the sound of the fishermen's voices calling +faintly on the horizon,--and still more, the sense of divine care and +knowledge, and the sweet conviction that One, mighty to help and to +save, was her Father and her Friend. For a little space she walked +abreast of angels. So many things take place in the soul that are not +revealed, and it is always when we are wrestling _alone_, that the +comforting ones come. Christina looked downward to the village sleeping +at her feet, + + "Beneath its little patch of sky, + And little lot of stars," + +and upward, to where innumerable worlds were whirling noiselessly +through the limitless void, and forgot her own clamorous personality +and "the something that infects the world;" and doing this, though she +did not voice her anxiety, it passed from her heart into the Infinite +Heart, and thus she was calmed and comforted. Then, suddenly, the +prayer of her childhood and her girlhood came to her lips, and she +stood up, and clasping her hands, she cast her eyes towards heaven, and +said reverently:-- + +"_This is the change of Thy Right Hand, O Thou Most High + Thou art strong to strengthen.' + Thou art gracious to help! + Thou art ready to better.' + Thou art mighty to save'"_ + +As the words passed her lips, she heard a movement, and softly and +silently as a spirit, her brother Andrew, fully dressed, passed through +the doorway. His arm lightly touched Christina's clothing, but he was +unconscious of her presence. He looked more than mortal, and was +evidently seeing _through_ his eyes, and not _with_ them. She was +afraid to speak to him. She did not dream of touching him, or of +arresting his steps. Without a sign or word, he went rapidly down the +cliff, walking with that indifference to physical obstacles which a +spirit that had cast off its incarnation might manifest. + +"He is walking in his sleep, and he may get into danger or find death +itself," thought Christina, and her fear gave strength and fleetness to +her footsteps as she quickly followed her brother. He made no noise of +any kind; he did not even disturb a pebble in his path; but went +forward, with a motion light and rapid, and the very reverse of the +slow, heavy-footed gait of a fisherman. But she kept him in sight as he +glided over the ribbed and water-lined sands, and rounded the rocky +points which jutted into the sea water. After a walk of nearly two +miles, he made direct for a series of bold rocks which were penetrated +by numberless caverns, and into one of these he entered. + +Hitherto he had not shown a moment's hesitation, nor did he now though +the path was dangerously narrow and rocky, overhanging unfathomable +abysses of dark water. But Christina was in mortal terror, both for +herself and Andrew. She did not dare to call his name, lest, in the +sudden awakening he might miss his precarious foothold, and fall to +unavoidable death. She found it almost impossible to follow him nor +indeed in her ordinary frame of mind could she have done so. But the +experience, so strange and thrilling, had lifted her in a measure above +the control of the physical and she was conscious of an exaltation of +spirit which defied difficulties that would ordinarily have terrified +her. Still she was so much delayed by the precautions evidently +necessary for her life, that she lost sight of her brother, and her +heart stood still with fright. + +Prayers parted her white lips continually, as she slowly climbed the +hollow crags that seemed to close together and forbid her further +progress. But she would not turn back, for she could not believe that +Andrew had perished. She would have heard the fall of his body or its +splash in the water beneath and so she continued to climb and clamber +though every step appeared to make further exploration more and more +impossible. + +With a startling unexpectedness, she found herself in a circular +chamber, open to the sky and on one of the large boulders lying around, +Andrew sat. He was still in the depths of a somnambulistic sleep; but +he had his lost box of gold and bank-notes before him, and he was +counting the money. She held her breath. She stood still as a stone. +She was afraid to think. But she divined at once the whole secret. +Motionless she watched him, as he unrolled and rerolled the notes, as +he counted and recounted the gold, and then carefully locked the box, +and hid the key under the edge of the stone on which he sat. + +What would he now do with the box? She watched his movements with a +breathless interest. He sat still for a few moments, clasping his +treasure firmly in his large, brown hands; then he rose, and put it in +an aperture above his head, filling the space in front of it with a +stone that exactly fitted. Without hurry, and without hesitation, the +whole transaction was accomplished; and then, with an equal composure +and confidence, he retraced his steps through the cavern and over the +rocks and sands to his own sleeping room. + +Christina followed as rapidly as she was able; but her exaltation had +died away, and left her weak and ready to weep; so that when she +reached the open beach, Andrew was so far in advance as to be almost +out of sight. She could not hope to overtake him, and she sat down for +a few minutes to try and realise the great relief that had come to +them--to wonder--to clasp her hands in adoration, to weep tears of joy. +When she reached her home at last, it was quite light. She looked into +her brother's room, and saw that he was lying motionless in the deepest +sleep; but Janet was half-awake, and she asked sleepily:-- + +"Whatever are you about so early for, Christina? Isn't the day long +enough for the sorrow and the care of it?" + +"Oh, Mother! Mother! The day isn't long enough for the joy and the +blessing of it." + +"What do you mean, my lass? What is it in your face? What have you +seen? Who has spoken a word to you?" and Janet rose up quickly, and put +her hands on Christina's shoulders; for the girl was swaying and +trembling, and ready to break out into a passion of sobbing. + +"I have seen, Mother, the salvation of the Lord! I have found Andrew's +lost money! I have proved that poor Jamie is innocent! We aren't poor +any longer. There is no need to borrow, or mortgage, or to run in debt. +Oh, Mother! Mother! The blessing you bespoke last night, the blessing +we were not thinking of, has come to us." + +"The Lord be thanked! I knew He would save us, in His own time, and His +time is never too late." + +Then Christina sat down by her mother's side, and in low, intense +tones, told her all she had seen. Janet listened with kindling face and +shining eyes. + +"The mercy of God is on His beloved, and His regard is unto His elect," +she cried, "and I am glad this day, that I never doubted Him, and never +prayed to Him with a grudge at the bottom of my heart." Then she began +to dress herself with her old joyfulness, humming a line of this and +that psalm or paraphrase, and stopping in the middle to ask Christina +another question; until the kettle began to simmer to her happy mood, +and she suddenly sung out joyfully four lines, never very far from her +lips:-- + +"My heart is dashed with cares and fears, + My song comes fluttering and is gone; + Oh! High above this home of tears. + Eternal Joy sing on!" + +How would it feel for the hyssop on the wall to turn cedar, I wonder? +Just about as Janet and Christina felt that morning, eating their +simple breakfast with glad hearts. Poor as the viands were, they had +the flavour of joy and thankfulness, and of a wondrous salvation. "It +is the Lord's doing!" This was the key to which the two women set all +their hopes and rejoicing, and yet even into its noble melody there +stole at last a little of the fret of earth. For suddenly Janet had a +fear--not of God, but of man--and she said anxiously to her daughter:-- + +"You should have brought the box home with you, Christina. O my lass, +if some other body should have seen what you have seen, then we will be +fairly ruined twice over." + +"No, no. Mother! I would not have touched the box for all there is in +it. Andrew must go for it himself. He might never believe it was where +I saw it, if he did not go for it. You know well he suspicioned both +Jamie and me; and indeed, Mother dear, you yourself thought worse of +Jamie than you should have done." + +"Let that be now, Christina. God has righted all. We will have no casts +up. If I thought of any one wrongly, I am sorry for it, and I could not +say more than that even to my Maker. If ill news was waiting for +Andrew, it would have shaken him off his pillow ere this." + +"Let him sleep. His soul took his body a weary walk this morning. He is +sore needing sleep, no doubt." + +"He will have to wake up now, and go about his business. It is high +time." + +"You should mind, Mother, what a tempest he has come through; all the +waves and billows of sorrow have gone over him." + +"He is a good man, and ought to be the better of the tempest. His ship +may have been sorely beaten and tossed, but his anchor was fast all +through the storm. It is time he lifted anchor now, and faced the brunt +and the buffet again. An idle man, if he is not a sick man, is on a lee +shore, let him put out to sea, why, lassie! A storm is better than a +shipwreck." + +"To be sure, Mother. Here the dear lad comes!" and with that Andrew +sauntered slowly into the kitchen. There was no light on his face, no +hope or purpose in his movements. He sat down at the table, and drew +his cup of tea towards him with an air of indifference, almost of +despair. It wounded Janet. She put her hand on his hand, and compelled +him to look into her face. As he did so, his eyes opened wide; +speculation, wonder, something like hope came into them. The very +silence of the two women--a silence full of meaning--arrested his soul. +He looked from one to the other, and saw the same inscrutable joy +answering his gaze. + +"What is it, Mother?" he asked. "I can see you have something to tell +me." + +"I have that, Andrew! O my dear lad, your money is found! I do not +think a penny-bit of it is missing. Don't mind me! I am greeting for +the very joy of it--but O Andrew, you be to praise God! It is his +doing, and marvellous in our eyes. Ask Christina. She can tell you +better than I can." + +But Andrew could not speak. He touched his sister's hand, and dumbly +looked into her happy face. He was white as death, but he sat bending +forward to her, with one hand outstretched, as if to clasp and grasp +the thing she had to tell him. So Christina told him the whole story, +and after he had heard it, he pushed his plate and cup away, and rose +up, and went into his room and shut the door. And Janet said +gratefully:-- + +"It is all right, Christina. He'll get nothing but good advice in God's +council chamber. We'll not need to worry ourselves again anent either +the lad or the money. The one has come to his senses, and the other +will come to its use. And we will cast nothing up to him; the best boat +loses her rudder once in a while." + +It was not long before Andrew joined his mother and sister, and the man +was a changed man. There was grave purpose in his calm face, and a joy, +too deep for words, in the glint of his eyes and in the graciousness of +his manner. + +"Come, Christina!" he said. "I want you you to go with me; we will +bring the siller home together. But I forget--it is maybe too far for +you to walk again to-day?" + +"I would walk ten times as far to pleasure you, Andrew. Do you know the +place I told you of?" + +"Aye, I know it well. I hid the first few shillings there that I ever +saved." + +As they walked together over the sands Christina said: "I wonder, +Andrew, when and how you carried the box there? Can you guess at all +the way this trouble came about?" + +"I can, but I'm ashamed to tell you, Christina. You see, after I had +shown you the money, I took a fear anent it. I thought maybe you might +tell Jamie Logan, and the possibility of this fretted on my mind until +it became a sure thing with me. So, being troubled in my heart, I +doubtless got up in my sleep and put the box in my oldest and safest +hiding-place." + +"But why then did you not remember that you had done so?" + +"You see, dearie, I hid it in my sleep, so then it was only in my sleep +I knew where I had put it. There is two of us, I am thinking, lassie, +and the one man does not always tell the other man all he knows. I +ought to have trusted you, Christina; but I doubted you, and, as mother +says, doubt aye fathers sin or sorrow of some kind or other." + +"You might have safely trusted me, Andrew." + +"I know now I might. But he is lifeless that is faultless; and the +wrong I have done I must put right. I am thinking of Jamie Logan?" + +"Poor Jamie! You know now that he never wronged you?" + +"I know, and I will let him know as soon as possible. When did you hear +from him? And where is he at all?" + +"I don't know just where he is. He sailed away yon time; and when he +got to New York, he left the ship." + +"What for did he do that?" + +"O Andrew, I cannot tell. He was angry with me for not coming to +Glasgow as I promised him I would." + +"You promised him that?" + +"Aye, the night you were taken so bad. But how could I leave you in +Dead Man's Dale and mother here lone to help you through it? So I wrote +and told him I be to see you through your trouble, and he went away +from Scotland and said he would never come back again till we found out +how sorely all of us had wronged him." + +"Don't cry, Christina! I will seek Jamie over the wide world till I +find him. I wonder at myself I am shamed of myself. However, will you +forgive me for all the sorrow I have brought on you?" + +"You were not altogether to blame, Andrew. You were ill to death at the +time. Your brain was on fire, poor laddie, and it would be a sin to +hold you countable for any word you said or did not say. But if you +will seek after Jamie either by letter or your own travel, and say as +much to him as you have said to me I may be happy yet, for all that has +come and gone." + +"What else can I do but seek the lad I have wronged so cruelly? What +else can I do for the sister that never deserved ill word or deed from +me? No, I cannot rest until I have made the wrong to both of you as far +right as sorrow and siller can do." + +When they reached the cavern, Andrew would not let Christina enter it +with him. He said he knew perfectly well the spot to which he must go, +and he would not have her tread again the dangerous road. So Christina +sat down on the rocks to wait for him, and the water tinkled beneath +her feet, and the sunshine dimpled the water, and the fresh salt wind +blew strength and happiness into her heart and hopes. In a short time, +the last moment of her anxiety was over, and Andrew came back to her, +with the box and its precious contents in his hands. "It is all here!" +he said, and his voice had its old tones, for his heart was ringing to +the music of its happiness, knowing that the door of fortune was now +open to him, and that he could walk up to success, as to a friend, on +his own hearthstone. + +That afternoon he put the money in Largo bank, and made arrangements +for his mother's and sister's comfort for some weeks. "For there is +nothing I can do for my own side, until I have found Jamie Logan, and +put Christina's and his affairs right," he said. And Janet was of the +same opinion. + +"You cannot bless yourself, laddie, until you bless others," she said, +"and the sooner you go about the business, the better for everybody." + +So that night Andrew started for Glasgow, and when he reached that +city, he was fortunate enough to find the very ship in which Jamie had +sailed away, lying at her dock. The first mate recalled the young man +readily. + +"The more by token that he had my own name," he said to Andrew. "We are +both of us Fife Logans, and I took a liking to the lad, and he told me +his trouble." + +"About some lost money?" asked Andrew. + +"Nay, he said nothing about money. It was some love trouble, I take it. +He thought he could better forget the girl if he ran away from his +country and his work. He has found out his mistake by this time, no +doubt." + +"You knew he was going to leave 'The Line' then?" + +"Yes, we let him go; and I heard say that he had shipped on an American +line, sailing to Cuba, or New Orleans, or somewhere near the equator." + +"Well, I shall try and find him." + +"I wouldn't, if I was you. He is sure to come back to his home again. +He showed me a lock of the lassie's hair. Man! a single strand of it +would pull him back to Scotland sooner or later." + +"But I have wronged him sorely. I did not mean to wrong him, but that +does not alter the case." + +"Not a bit. Love sickness is one thing; a wrong against a man's good +name or good fortune, is a different matter. I would find him and right +him." + +"That is what I want to do." + +And so when the _Circassia_ sailed out of Greenock for New York, Andrew +Binnie sailed in her. "It is not a very convenient journey," he said +rather sadly, as he left Scotland behind him, "but wrong has been done, +and wrong has no warrant, and I'll never have a good day till I put the +wrong right; so the sooner the better, for, as Mother says, 'that which +a fool does at the end a wise man does at the beginning.'" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE RIGHTING OF A WRONG + + +So Andrew sailed for New York, and life resumed its long forgotten +happy tenor in the Binnie cottage. Janet sang about her spotless +houseplace, feeling almost as if it was a new gift of God to her; and +Christina regarded their small and simple belongings with that tender +and excessive affection which we are apt to give to whatever has been +all but lost and then unexpectedly recovered. Both women involuntarily +showed this feeling in the extra care they took of everything. Never +had the floors and chairs and tables been scrubbed and rubbed to such +spotless beauty; and every cup and platter and small ornament was +washed and dusted with such care as could only spring from heart-felt +gratitude in its possession. Naturally they had much spare time, for as +Janet said, 'having no man to cook and wash for lifted half the work +from their hands,' but they were busy women for all that. Janet began a +patch-work quilt of a wonderful design as a wedding present for +Christina; and as the whole village contributed "pieces" for its +construction, the whole village felt an interest in its progress. It +was a delightful excuse for Janet's resumption of her old friendly, +gossipy ways; and every afternoon saw her in some crony's house, +spreading out her work, and explaining her design, and receiving the +praises and sometimes the advice of her acquaintances. + +Christina also, quietly but yet hopefully, began again her preparations +for her marriage; for Janet laughed at her fears and doubts. "Andrew +was sure to find Jamie, and Jamie was sure to be glad to come home +again. It stands to reason," she said confidently. "The very sight of +Andrew will be a cordial of gladness to him; for he will know, as soon +as he sees the face of him, that the brother will mean the sister and +the wedding ring. If you get the spindle and distaff ready, my lass, +God is sure to send the flax; and by the same token, if you get your +plenishing made and marked, and your bride-clothes finished, God will +certainly send the husband." + +"Jamie said in his last letter--the one in which he bid me farewell--'I +will never come back to Scotland.'" + +"_Toots! Havers!_ 'I _will_' is for the Lord God Almighty to say. A +sailor-man's 'I will' is just breath, that any wind may blow away. When +Andrew gives him the letter you sent, Jamie will not be able to wait +for the next boat for Scotland." + +"He may have taken a fancy to America and want to stop there." + +"What are you talking about, Christina Binnie? There is nothing but +scant and want in them foreign countries. Oh! my lass, he will come +home, and be glad to come home; and you will have the hank in your own +hand. See that you spin it cannily and happily." + +"I hope Andrew will not make himself sick again looking for the lost." + +"I shall have little pity for him, if he does. I told him to make good +days for himself; why not? He is about his duty; the law of kindness is +in his heart, and the purpose of putting right what he put wrong is the +wind that drives him. Well then, his journey--be it short or +long--ought to be a holiday to him, and a body does not deserve a +holiday if he cannot take advantage of one. Them were my last words to +Andrew." + +"Jamie may have seen another lass. I have heard say the lassies in +America are gey bonnie." + +"I'll just be stepping if you have nothing but frets and fears to say. +When things go wrong, it is mostly because folks will have them wrong +and no other way." + +"In this world, Mother, the giffs and the gaffs--" + +"In this world, Christina, the giffs and the gaffs generally balance +one another. And if they don't,--mind what I say,--it is because there +is a moral defect on the failing side. Oh! but women are flightersome +and easy frighted." + +"Whyles you have fears yourself, Mother." + +"Ay, I am that foolish whyles; but I shall be a sick, weak body, when I +can't outmarch the worst of them." + +"You are just an oracle, Mother." + +"Not I; but if I was a very saint, I would say every morning of my +life: 'Now then, Soul, hope for good and have good.' Many a sad heart +folks get they have no need to have. Take out your needle and thimble +and go to your wedding clothes, lassie; you will need them before the +summer is over. You may take my word for that." + +"If Jamie should still love me." + +"Love you! He will be that far gone in love with you that there will be +no help for him but standing up before the minister. That will be seen +and heard tell of. Lift your white seam, and be busy at it; there is +nothing else to do till tea time, and I am away for an hour or two to +Maggie Buchans. Her man went to Edinburgh this morning. What for, I +don't know yet, but I'll maybe find out." + +It was on this very afternoon that Janet first heard that there was +trouble and a sound of more trouble at Braelands. Sophy had driven down +in her carriage the previous day to see her cousin Isobel Murray, and +some old friends who had gone into Isobel's had found the little +Mistress of Braelands weeping bitterly in her cousin's arms. After this +news Janet did not stay long at Maggie Buchans; she carried her +patch-work to Isobel Murray's, and as Isobel did not voluntarily name +the subject, Janet boldly introduced it herself. + +"I heard tell that Sophy Braelands was here yesterday." + +"Aye, she was." + +"A grand thing for you, Isobel, to have the Braelands's yellow coach +and pair standing before the Murray cottage all of two or three hours." + +"It did not stand before my cottage, Janet. The man went to the public +house and gave the horses a drink, and himself one too, or I am much +mistaken, for I had to send little Pete Galloway after him." + +"I think Sophy might have called on me." + +"No doubt she would have done so, had she known that Andrew was away, +but I never thought to tell her until the last moment." + +"Is she well? I was hearing that she looked but poorly." + +"You were hearing the truth. She looks bad enough." + +"Is she happy, Isobel?" + +"I never asked her that question." + +"You have eyes and observation. Didn't you ask yourself that question?" + +"Maybe I did." + +"What then?" + +"I have nothing to say anent it." + +"What was she talking about? You know, Isobel, that Sophy is kin of +mine, and I loved her mother like my own sister. So I be to feel +anxious about the little body. I'm feared things are not going as well +as they might do. Madame Braelands is but a hard-grained woman." + +"She is as cruel a woman and as bad a woman as there is between this +and wherever she may be." + +"Isn't she at Braelands?" + +"Not for a week or two. She's away to Acker Castle, and her son with +her." + +"And why not Sophy also?" + +"The poor lassie would not go--she says she could not. Well, Janet, I +may as good confess that there is something wrong that she does not +like to speak of yet. She is just at the crying point now, the reason +why and wherefore will come anon." + +"But she be to say something to you." + +"I'll tell you. She said she was worn out with learning this and that, +and she was humbled to death to find out how ignorant and full of +faults she was. Madame Braelands is both schoolmistress and +mother-in-law, and there does not seem to be a minute of the day in +which the poor child isn't checked and corrected. She has lost all her +pretty ways, and she says she cannot learn Madame's ways; and she is +feared for herself, and shamed for herself. And when the invitation +came for Acker Castle, Madame told her she must not accept it for her +husband's sake, because all his great friends were to be there, and +they were to discuss his going to Parliament, and she would only shame +and disgrace him. And you may well conceive that Sophy turned obstinate +and said she would bide in her own home. And, someway, her husband did +not urge her to go and this hurt her worst of all; and she felt lonely +and broken-hearted, and so came to see me. That is everything about it, +but keep it to yourself, Janet, it isn't for common clash." + +"I know that. But did Madame Braelands and her son really go away and +leave Sophy her lone?" + +"They left her with two or three teachers to worry the life out of her. +They went away two days ago; and Madame was in full feather and glory, +with her son at her beck and call, and all her grand airs and manners +about her. Sophy says she watched them away from her bedroom window, +and then she cried her heart out. And she couldn't learn her lessons, +and so sent the man teacher and the woman teacher about their business. +She says she will not try the weary books again to please anybody; they +make her head ache so that she is like to swoon away." + +"Sophy was never fond of books; but I thought she would like the +music." + +"Aye, if they would let her have her own way about it. She has her +father's little fiddle, and when she was but a bare-footed lassie, she +played on it wonderful." + +"I remember. You would have thought there was a linnet living inside of +it." + +"Well, she wanted to have some lessons on it, and her husband was +willing enough, but Madame went into hysterics about the idea of +anything so vulgar. There is a constant bitter little quarrel between +the two women, and Sophy says she cannot go to her husband with every +slight and cruelty. Madame laughs at her, or pretends to pet her, or +else gets into passions at what she calls Sophy's unreasonableness; and +Archie Braelands is weary to death of complaining, and just turns sulky +or goes out of the house. Oh, Janet, I can see and feel the bitter, +cruel task-woman over the poor, foolish child! She is killing her, and +Archie Braelands does not see the right and the wrong of it all." + +"I'll make him see it." + +"You will hold your tongue, Janet. They who stir in muddy water only +make it worse." + +"But Archie Braelands loved her, or he would not have married her; and +if he knew the right and the wrong of poor Sophy's position--" + +"I tell you, that is nothing to it, Janet." + +"It is everything to it. Right is right, in the devil's teeth." + +"I'm sorry I said a word to you; it is a dangerous thing to get between +a man and his wife. I would not do it, not even for Sophy; for reason +here or reason there, folks be to take care of themselves; and my man +gets siller from Braelands, more than we can afford to lose." + +"You are taken with a fit of the prudentials, Isobel; and it is just +extraordinary how selfish they make folk." + +And yet Janet herself, when going over the conversation with Christina, +was quite inclined on second thoughts not to interfere in Sophy's +affairs, though both were anxious and sorrowful about the motherless +little woman. + +"She ought to be with her husband wherever he is, court or castle," +said Christina. "She is a foolish woman to let him go away with her +enemy, and such a clever enemy as Madame Braelands is. I think, Mother, +you ought to call on Sophy, and give her a word of love and a bit of +good advice. Her mother was very close to you." + +"I know, Christina; but Isobel was right about the folly of coming +between a man and his wife. I would just get the wyte of it. Many a +sore heart I have had for meddling with what I could not mend." + +Yet Janet carried the lonely, sorrowful little wife on her heart +continually; though, after a week or two had passed and nothing new was +heard from Braelands, every one began to give their sympathy to +Christina and her affairs. Janet was ready to talk of them. There were +some things she wished to explain, though she was too proud to do so +until her friends felt interest enough to ask for explanations. And as +soon as it was discovered that Andrew had gone to America, the interest +and curiosity was sufficiently keen and eager to satisfy even Janet. + +"It fairly took the breath from me," said Sabrina Roy, "when I was told +the like of that. I cannot think there is a word of truth in such a +report." + +Mistress Roy was sitting at Janet's fireside, and so had the privilege +of a guest; but, apart from this, it gave Janet a profound satisfaction +to answer: "Ay, well, Sabrina, the clash is true for once in a +lifetime. Andrew has gone to America, and the Lord knows where else +beside." + +"Preserve us all! I wouldn't believe it, only from your own lips, +Janet. Whatever would be the matter that sent him stravaging round the +world, with no ship of his own beneath his feet or above his head?" + +"A matter of right and wrong, Sabrina. My Andrew has a strict +conscience and a sense of right that would be ornamental in a very +saint. Not to make a long story of it, he and Jamie Logan had a +quarrel. It was the night Andrew took his inflammation, and it is very +sure his brain was on fire and off its judgment at the time. But we +were none of us thinking of the like of that; and so the bad words +came, and stirred up the bad blood, and if I hadn't been there myself, +there might have been spilled blood to end all with, for they were both +black angry." + +"Guide us, woman! What was it all about?" + +"Well, Sabrina, it was about siller; that is all I am free to say. +Andrew was sure he was right, and Jamie was sure he was wrong; and they +were going fairly to one another's throats, when I stepped in and flung +them apart." + +"And poor Christina had the buff and the buffet to take and to bear for +their tempers?" + +"Not just that. Jamie begged her to go away with him, and the lassie +would have gone if I hadn't got between her and the door. I had a hard +few minutes, I can tell you, Sabrina; for when men are beside +themselves with passion, they are in the devil's employ, and it's no +easy work to take a job out of _his_ hands. But I sent Jamie flying +down the cliff, and I locked the door and put the key in my pocket, and +ordered Andrew and Christina off to their beds, and thought I would +leave the rest of the business till the next day; but before midnight +Andrew was raving, and the affair was out of my hands altogether." + +"It is a wonder Christina did not go after her lad." + +"What are you talking about, Sabrina? It would have been a world's +wonder and a black, burning shame if my girl had gone after her lad in +such a calamitous time. No, no, Christina Binnie isn't the kind of girl +that shrinks in the wetting. When her time of trial came, she did the +whole of her duty, showing herself day by day a witness and a testimony +to her decent, kirk-going forefathers." + +"And so Andrew has found out he was wrong and Jamie Logan right?" + +"Aye, he has. And the very minute he did so, he made up his mind to +seek the lad far and near and confess his fault." + +"And bring him back to Christina?" + +"Just so. What for not? He parted them, and he has the right and duty +to bring them together again, though it take the best years of his life +and the last bawbee of his money." + +"Folks were saying his money was all spent." + +"Folks are far wrong then. Andrew has all the money he ever had. Andrew +isn't a bragger, and his money has been silent so far, but it will +speak ere long." + +"With money to the fore, you shouldn't have been so scrimpit with +yourselves in such a time of work and trouble. Folks noticed it." + +"I don't believe in wasting anything, Sabrina, even grief. I did not +spend a penny, nor a tear, nor a bit of strength, that was useless. +What for should I? And if folks noticed we were scrimpit, why didn't +they think about helping us? No, thank God! We have enough and a good +bit to spare, for all that has come and gone, and if it pleases the +Maker of Happiness to bring Jamie Logan back again, we will have a +bridal that will make a monumental year in Pittendurie." + +"I am glad to hear tell o' that. I never did approve of two or three at +a wedding. The more the merrier." + +"That is a very sound observe. My Christina will have a wedding to be +seen and heard tell of from one sacramental occasion to another." + +"Well, then, good luck to Andrew Binnie, and may he come soon home and +well home, and sorrow of all kinds keep a day's sail behind him. And +surely he will go back to the boats when he has saved his conscience, +for there is never a better sailor and fisher on the North Sea. The men +were all saying that when he was so ill." + +"It is the very truth. Andrew can read the sea as well as the minister +can read the Book. He never turns his back on it; his boat is always +ready to kiss the wind in its teeth. I have been with him when _rip! +rip! rip_! went her canvas; but I hadn't a single fear, I knew the lad +at the helm. I knew he would bring her to her bearings beautifully. He +always did, and then how the gallant bit of a creature would shake +herself and away like a sea-gull. My Andrew is a son of the sea as all +his forbears were. Its salt is in his blood, and when the tide is going +with a race and a roar, and the break of the waves and the howl of the +wind is like a thousand guns, then Andrew Binnie is in the element he +likes best; aye, though his boat be spinning round like a laddie's +top." + +"Well, Janet, I will be going." + +"Mind this, Sabrina, I have told you all to my heart's keel; and if +folks are saying to you that Jamie has given Christina the slip, or +that the Binnies are scrimpit for poverty's sake, or the like of any +other ill-natured thing, you will be knowing how to answer them." + +"'Deed, I will! And I am real glad things are so well with you all, +Janet." + +"Well, and like to be better, thank God, as soon as Andrew gets back +from foreign parts." + +In the meantime, Andrew, after a pleasant sail, had reached New York. +He made many friends on the ship, and in the few days of bad weather +usually encountered came to the front, as he always did when winds were +blowing and sailor-men had to wear oil skins. The first sight of the +New World made him silent. He was too prudent to hazard an opinion +about any place so remote and so strange, though he cautiously admitted +"the lift was as blue as in Scotland and the sunshine not to speak ill +of." But as his ideas of large towns had been formed upon Edinburgh and +Glasgow, he could hardly admire New York. "It looks," he said to an +acquaintance who was showing him the city, "it looks as if it had been +built in a hurry;" for he was thinking of the granite streets and piers +of Glasgow. "Besides," he added, "there is no romance or beauty about +it; it is all straight lines and squares. Man alive! you should see +Edinburgh the sel of it, the castle, and the links, and the bonnie +terraces, and the Highland men parading the streets, it is just a bit +of poetry made out of builders stones." + +With the information he had received from the mate of the "Circassia," +and his advice and directions, Andrew had little difficulty in locating +Jamie Logan. He found his name in the list of seamen sailing a steamer +between New York and New Orleans; and this steamer was then lying at +her pier on the North River. It was not very hard to obtain permission +to interview Jamie, and armed with this authority, he went to the ship +one very hot afternoon about four o'clock. + +Jamie was at the hold, attending to the unshipping of cargo; and as he +lifted himself from the stooping attitude which his work demanded, he +saw Andrew Binnie approaching him. He pretended, however, not to see +him, and became suddenly very deeply interested in the removal of a +certain case of goods. Andrew was quite conscious of the affectation, +but he did not blame Jamie; it only made him the more anxious to atone +for the wrong he had done. He stepped rapidly forward, and with +extended hands said:-- + +"Jamie Logan, I have come all the way from Scotland to ask you to +forgive me. I thought wrong of you, and I said wrong to you, and I am +sorry for it. Can you pass it by for Christ's sake?" + +Jamie looked into the speaker's face, frankly and gravely, but with the +air of a man who has found something he thought lost. He took Andrew's +hands in his own hands and answered:-- + +"Aye, I can forgive you with all my heart. I knew you would come to +yourself some day, Andrew; but it has seemed a long time waiting. I +have not a word against you now. A man that can come three thousand +miles to own up to a wrong is worth forgiving. How is Christina?" + +"Christina is well, but tired-like with the care of me through my long +sickness. She has sent you a letter, and here it is. The poor lass has +suffered more than either of us; but never a word of complaining from +her. Jamie, I have promised her to bring you back with me. Can you +come?" + +"I will go back to Scotland with you gladly, if it can be managed. I am +fair sick for the soft gray skies, and the keen, salt wind of the North +Sea. Last Sabbath Day I was in New Orleans--fairly baking with the heat +of the place--and I thought I heard the kirk bells across the sands, +and saw Christina stepping down the cliff with the Book in her hands +and her sweet smile making all hearts but mine happy. Andrew man, I +could not keep the tears out of my een, and my heart was away down to +my feet, and I was fairly sick with longing." + +They left the ship together and spent the night in each other's +company. Their room was a small one, in a small river-side hotel, hot +and close smelling; but the two men created their own atmosphere. For +as they talked of their old life, the clean, sharp breezes of +Pittendurie swept through the stifling room; they tasted the brine on +the wind's wings, and felt the wet, firm sands under their feet. Or +they talked of the fishing boats, until they could see their sails +bellying out, as they lay down just enough to show they felt the fresh +wind tossing the spray from their bows and lifting themselves over the +great waves as if they stepped over them. + +Before they slept, they had talked themselves into a fever of home +sickness, and the first work of the next day was to make arrangements +for Jamie's release from his obligations. There was some delay and +difficulty about this matter, but it was finally completed to the +satisfaction of all parties, and Andrew and Jamie took the next Anchor +Line steamer for Glasgow. + +On the voyage home, the two men got very close to each other, not in +any accidental mood of confidence, but out of a thoughtful and assured +conviction of respect. Andrew told Jamie all about his lost money and +the plans for his future which had been dependent on it, and Jamie +said-- + +"No wonder you went off your health and senses with the thought of your +loss, Andrew I would have been less sensible than you. It was an awful +experience, man, I cannot tell how you tholed it at all." + +"Well, I didn't thole it, Jamie. I just broke down under it, and God +Almighty and my mother and sister had to carry me through the ill time; +but all is right now. I shall have the boat I was promised, and at the +long last be Captain Binnie of the Red-White Fleet. And what for +shouldn't you take a berth with me? I shall have the choosing of my +officers, and we will strike hands together, if you like it, and you +shall be my second mate to start with." + +"I should like nothing better than to sail with you and under you, +Andrew. I couldn't find a captain more to my liking." + +"Nor I a better second mate. We both know our business, and we shall +manage it cleverly and brotherly." + +So Jamie's future was settled before the men reached Pittendurie, and +the new arrangement well talked over, and Andrew and his proposed +brother-in-law were finger and thumb about it. This was a good thing +for Andrew, for his secretive, self-contained disposition was his weak +point, and had been the cause of all his sorrow and loss of time and +suffering. + +They had written a letter in New York and posted it the day they left, +advising Janet and Christina of the happy home-coming; but both men +forgot, or else did not know, that the letter came on the very same +ship with themselves, and might therefore or might not reach home +before them. It depended entirely on the postal authority in +Pittendurie. If she happened to be in a mood to sort the letters as +soon as they arrived, and then if she happened to see any one passing +who could carry a letter to Janet Binnie, the chances were that Janet +would receive the intelligence of her son's arrival in time to make +some preparation for it. + +As it happened, these favourable circumstances occurred, and about four +o'clock one afternoon, as Janet was returning up the cliff from Isobel +Murray's, she met little Tim Galloway with the letter in his hand. + +"It is from America," said the laddie, "and my mother told me to hurry +myself with it. Maybe there is folk coming after it." + +"I'll give you a bawbee for the sense of your words, Tim," answered +Janet; and she hastened herself and flung the letter into Christina's +lap, saying:-- + +"Open it, lassie, it will be full of good news. I shouldn't wonder if +both lads were on their way home again." + +"Mother, Mother, they _are_ home; they will be here anon, they will be +here this very night. Oh, Mother, I must put on my best gown and my +gold ear-rings and brush my hair, and you'll be setting forward the tea +and making a white pudding; for Jamie, you know, was always saying none +but you could mix the meal and salt and pepper, and toast it as it +should be done." + +"I shall look after the men's eating, Christina, and you make yourself +as braw as you like to. Jamie has been long away, and he must have a +full welcome home again." + +They were both as excited as two happy children; perhaps Janet was most +evidently so, for she had never lost her child-heart, and everything +pleasant that happened was a joy and a wonder to her. She took out her +best damask table-cloth, and opened her bride chest for the real china +kept there so carefully; and she made the white pudding with her own +hands, and ran down the cliff for fresh fish and the lamb chops which +were Andrew's special luxury. And Christina made the curds and cream, +and swept the hearth, and set the door wide open for the home-comers. + +And as good fortune comes where it is looked for, Andrew and Jamie +entered the cottage just as everything was ready for them. There was no +waiting, no cooled welcome, no spoiled dainties, no disappointment of +any kind. Life was taken up where it had been most pleasantly dropped; +all the interval of doubt and suffering was put out of remembrance, and +when the joyful meal had been eaten, as Janet washed her cups and +saucers and tidied her house, they talked of the happy future before +them. + +"And I'll tell you what, bairnies," said the dear old woman as she +stood folding her real china in the tissue paper devoted to that +purpose, "I'll tell you what, bairnies, good will asks for good deeds, +and I'll show my good will by giving Christina the acre of land next my +own. If Jamie is to go with you, Andrew, and your home is to be with +me, lad--" + +"Where else would it be, Mother?" + +"Well, then, where else need Jamie's home be but in Pittendurie? I'll +give the land for his house, and what will you do, Andrew? Speak for +your best self, my lad." + +"I will give my sister Christina one hundred gold sovereigns and the +silk wedding-gown I promised her." + +"Oh, Andrew, my dear brother, how will I ever thank you as I ought to?" + +"I owe you more, Christina, than I can count." + +"No, no, Andrew," said Janet. "What has Christina done that siller can +pay for? You can't buy love with money, and gold isn't in exchange for +it. Your gift is a good-will gift. It isn't a paid debt, God be +thanked!" + +The very next day the little family went into Largo, and the acre was +legally transferred, and Jamie made arrangements for the building of +his cottage. But the marriage did not wait on the building; it was +delayed no longer than was necessary for the making of the silk +wedding-gown. This office Griselda Kilgour undertook with much +readiness and an entire oblivion of Janet's unadvised allusions to her +age. And more than this, Griselda dressed the bride with her own hands, +adding to her costume a bonnet of white tulle and orange blossoms that +was the admiration of the whole village, and which certainly had a +bewitching effect above Christina's waving black hair, and shining +eyes, and marvellous colouring. + +And, as Janet desired, the wedding was a holiday for the whole of +Pittendurie. Old and young were bid to it, and for two days the dance, +the feast, and the song went gayly on, and for two days not a single +fishing boat left the little port of Pittendurie. Then the men went out +to sea again, and the women paid their bride visits, and the children +finished all the dainties that were else like to be wasted, and life +gradually settled back into its usual grooves. + +But though Jamie went to the fishing, pending Andrew's appointment to +his steamboat, Janet and Christina had a never-ceasing interest in the +building and plenishing of Christina's new home. It was not +fashionable, nor indeed hardly permissible, for any one to build a +house on a plan grander than the traditional fisher cottage; but +Christina's, though no larger than her neighbours', had the modern +convenience of many little closets and presses, and these Janet filled +with homespun napery, linseys, and patch-work, so that never a young +lass in Pittendurie began life under such full and happy circumstances. + +In the fall of the year the new fire was lit on the new hearth, and +Christina moved into her own home. It was only divided from her +mother's by a strip of garden and a low fence, and the two women could +stand in their open doors and talk to each other. And during the summer +all had gone well. Jamie had been fortunate and made money, and Andrew +had perfected all his arrangements, so that one morning in early +September, the whole village saw "The Falcon" come to anchor in the +bay, and Captain Binnie, in his gold-buttoned coat and gold-banded cap, +take his place on her bridge, with Jamie, less conspicuously attired, +attending him. + +It was a proud day for Janet and Christina, though Janet, guided by +some fine instinct, remained in her own home, and made no afternoon +calls. "I don't want to force folk to say either kind or unkind things +to me," she said to her daughter. "You know, Christina, it is a deal +harder to rejoice with them that rejoice than to weep with them that +weep. Sabrina Roy, as soon as she got her eyes on Andrew in his +trimmings, perfectly changed colours with envy; and we have been a +speculation to far and near, more than one body saying we were going +fairly to the mischief with out extravagance. They thought poverty had +us under her black thumb, and they did not think of the hand of God, +which was our surety." + +However, that afternoon Janet had a great many callers, and not a few +came up the cliff out of real kindness, for, doubt as we will, there is +a constant inflowing of God into human affairs. And Janet, in her +heart, did not doubt her neighbours readily; she took the homage +rendered in a very pleased and gracious manner, and she made a cup of +tea and a little feast for her company, and the clash and clatter in +the Binnie cottage that afternoon was exceedingly full of good wishes +and compliments. Indeed, as Janet reviewed them afterwards, they +provoked from her a broad smile, and she said with a touch of +good-natured criticism:-- + +"If we could make compliments into silk gowns, Christina, you and I +would be bonnily clad for the rest of our lives. Nobody said a +nattering word but poor Bella McLean, and she has been soured and sore +kept down in the world by a ne'er-do-weel of a husband." + +"She should try and guide him better," said Christina. "If he was my +man, I would put him through his facings." + +"_Toots_, Christina. You are over young in the marriage state to offer +opinions about men folk. As far as I can see, every woman can guide a +bad husband but the poor soul that has the ill-luck to have one. Open +the Book now, and let us thank God for the good day He has given us." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +"TAKE ME IN TO DIE!" + + +After this, the pleasant months went by with nothing but Andrew's and +Jamie's visits to mark them, and, every now and then, a sough of sorrow +from the big house of Braelands. And now that her own girl was so +happily settled, Janet began to have a longing anxiety about poor +Sophy. She heard all kinds of evil reports concerning the relations +between her and her husband, and twice during the winter there was a +rumour, hardly hushed up, of a separation between them. + +Isobel Murray, to whom at first Sophy turned in her sorrow, had not +responded to any later confidences. "My man told me to neither listen +nor speak against Archie Braelands," she said to Janet. "We have our +own boat to guide, and Sophy cannot be a friend to us; while it is very +sure Braelands can be an enemy beyond our 'don't care.' Six little lads +and lassies made folk mind their own business. And I'm no very sure but +what Sophy's troubles are Sophy's own making. At any rate, she isn't +faultless; you be to have both flint and stone to strike fire." + +"I'll not hear you say the like of that, Isobel. Sophy may be misguided +and unwise, but there is not a wrong thought in her heart. The bit +vanity of the young thing was her only fault, and I'm thinking she has +paid sorely for it." + +All winter, such vague and miserable bits of gossip found their way +into the fishing village, and one morning in the following spring, +Janet met a young girl who frequently went to Braelands House with +fresh fish. She was then on her way home from such an errand, and Janet +fancied there was a look of unusual emotion on her broad, stolid face. + +"Maggie-Ann," she said, stopping her, "where have you been this +morning?" + +"Up to Braelands." "And what did you see or hear tell of?" + +"I saw nothing; but I heard more than I liked to hear." + +"About Mistress Braelands? You know, Maggie-Ann, that she is my own +flesh and blood, and I be to feel her wrongs my wrongs." + +"Surely, Janet There had been a big stir, and you could feel it in the +very air of the house. The servants were feared to speak or to step, +and when the door opened, the sound of angry words and of somebody +crying was plain to be heard. Jean Craigie, the cook, told me it was +about the Dower House. The mistress wants to get away from her +mother-in-law, and she had been begging her husband to go and live in +the Dower House with her, since Madame would not leave them their own +place." + +"She is right," answered Janet boldly. "I wouldn't live with that fine +old sinner myself, and I think there are few women in Fife I couldn't +talk back to if I wanted. Sophy ought never to have bided with her for +a day. They have no business under the same roof. A baby and a popish +inquisitor would be as well matched." + +It had, indeed, come at last to Sophy's positive refusal to live longer +with her mother-in-law. In a hundred ways the young wife felt her +inability to cope with a woman so wise and so wicked, and she had +finally begun to entreat Archie to take her away from Braelands. The +man was in a strait which could end only in anger. He was completely +under his mother's influence, while Sophy's influence had been +gradually weakened by Madame's innuendos and complaints, her pity for +Archie, and her tattle of visitors. These things were bad enough; but +Sophy's worst failures came from within herself. She had been snubbed +and laughed at, scolded and corrected, until she had lost all +spontaneity and all the grace and charm of her natural manner. This +condition would not have been so readily brought about, had she +retained her health and her flower-like beauty. But after the birth of +her child she faded slowly away. She had not the strength for a +constant, never-resting assertion of her rights, and nothing less would +have availed her; nor had she the metal brightness to expose or +circumvent the false and foolish positions in which Madame habitually +placed her. + +Little by little, the facts of the unhappy case leaked out, and were +warmly commented on by the fisher-families with whom Sophy was +connected either by blood or friendship. Her father's shipmates were +many of them living and she had cousins of every degree among the +nets--men and women who did not forget the motherless, fatherless +lassie who had played with their own children. These people made Archie +feel their antagonism. They would neither take his money, nor give him +their votes, nor lift their bonnets to his greeting. And though such +honest, primitive feelings were proper enough, they did not help Sophy. +On the contrary, they strengthened Madame's continual assertion that +her son's marriage had ruined his public career and political +prospects. Still there is nothing more wonderful than the tugs and +twists the marriage tie will bear. There were still days in which +Archie--either from love, or pity, or contradiction, or perhaps from a +sense of simple justice--took his wife's part so positively that Madame +must have been discouraged if she had been a less understanding woman. +As it was, she only smiled at such fitful affection, and laid her plans +a little more carefully. And as the devil strengthens the hands of +those who do his work, Madame received a potent reinforcement in the +return home of her nearest neighbour, Miss Marion Glamis. As a girl, +she had been Archie's friend and playmate; then she had been sent to +Paris for her education, and afterwards travelled extensively with her +father who was a man of very comfortable fortune. Marion herself had a +private income, and Madame had been accustomed to believe that when +Archie married, he would choose Marion Glamis for his wife. + +She was a tall, high-coloured, rather mannish-looking girl, handsome in +form, witty in speech, and disposed towards field sports of every kind. +She disliked Sophy on sight, and Madame perceived it, and easily worked +on the girl's worst feelings. Besides, Marion had no lover at the time, +and she had come home with the idea of Archie Braelands tilling such +imagination as she possessed. To find herself supplanted by a girl of +low birth, "without a single advantage" as she said frankly to Archie's +mother, provoked and humiliated her. "She has not beauty, nor grace, +nor wit, nor money, nor any earthly thing to recommend her to Archie's +notice. Was the man under a spell?" she asked. + +"Indeed she had a kind of beauty and grace when Archie married her," +answered Madame; "I must admit that. But bringing her to Braelands was +like transplanting a hedge flower into a hot-house. She has just wilted +ever since." + +"Has she been noticed by Archie's friends at all?" + +"I have taken good care she did not see much of Archie's friends, and +her ill health has been a splendid excuse for her seclusion. Yet it was +strange how much the few people she met admired her. Lady Blair goes +into italics every time she comes here about 'The Beauty', and the +Bells, and Curries, and Cupars, have done their best to get her to +visit them. I knew better than permit such folly. She would have told +all sorts of things, and raised the country-side against me; though, +really, no one will ever know what I have gone through in my efforts to +lick the cub into shape!" + +Marion laughed, and, Archie coming in at that moment, she launched all +her high spirits and catches and witticisms at him. Her brilliancy and +colour and style were very effective, and there was a sentimental +remembrance for the foundation of a flirtation which Marion very +cleverly took advantage of, and which Archie was not inclined to deny. +His life was monotonous, he was ennuye, and this bold, bright +incarnation, with her half disguised admiration for himself, was an +irresistible new interest. + +So their intimacy soon became frequent and friendly. There were +horseback rides together in the mornings, sails in the afternoons, and +duets on the piano in the evenings. Then her Parisian toilets made poor +Sophy's Largo dresses look funnily dowdy, and her sharp questions and +affected ignorances of Sophy's meanings and answers were cleverly aided +by Madame's cold silences, lifted brows, and hopeless acceptance of +such an outside barbarian. Long before a dinner was over, Sophy had +been driven into silence, and it was perhaps impossible for her to +avoid an air of offence and injury, so that Marion had the charming in +her own hands. After dinner, Admiral Glamis and Madame usually played a +game of chess, and Archie sang or played duets with Marion, while +Sophy, sitting sadly unnoticed and unemployed, watched her husband give +to his companion such smiles and careful attentions as he had used to +win her own heart. + +What regrets and fears and feelings of wrong troubled her heart during +these unhappy summer evenings, God only knew. Sometimes her presence +seemed to be intolerable to Madame, who would turn to her and say +sharply: "You are worn out, Sophy, and it is hardly fair to impose your +weariness and low spirits on us. Had you not better go to your room?" +Occasionally, Sophy refused to notice this covert order, and she +fancied that there was generally a passing expression of pleasure on +her husband's face at her rebellion. More frequently, she was glad to +escape the slow, long torture, and she would rise, and go through the +formality of shaking hands with each person and bidding each +"good-night" ere she left the room. "Fisher manners," Madame would +whisper impatiently to Marion. "I cannot teach her a decent effacement +of her personality." For this little ceremony always ended in Archie's +escorting her upstairs, and so far he had never neglected this formal +deference due his wife. Sometimes too he came back from the duty very +distrait and unhappy-looking, a circumstance always noted by Madame +with anger and scorn. + +To such a situation, any tragedy was a possible culmination, and day by +day there was a more reckless abuse of its opportunities. Madame, when +alone with Sophy, did not now scruple to regret openly the fact that +Marion was not her daughter-in-law, and if Marion happened to be +present, she gave way to her disappointment in such ejaculations as-- + +"Oh! Marion Glamis, why did you stay away so long? Why did you not come +home before Archie's life was ruined?" And the girl would sigh and +answer: "Is not my life ruined also? Could any one have imagined Archie +Braelands would have an attack of insanity?" Then Sophy, feeling her +impotence between the tongues of her two enemies, would rise and go +away, more or less angrily or sadly, followed through the hall and +half-way upstairs by the snickering, confidential laughter of their +common ridicule. + +At the latter end of June, Admiral Glamis proposed an expedition to +Norway. They were to hire a yacht, select a merry party, and spend July +and August sailing and fishing in the cool fiords of that picturesque +land. Archie took charge of all the arrangements. He secured a yacht, +and posted a notice in the Public House of Pittendurie for men to sail +her. He had no doubt of any number of applications; for the work was +light and pleasant, and much better paid than any fishing-job. But not +a man presented himself, and not even when Archie sought out the best +sailors and those accustomed to the cross seas between Scotland and +Norway, could he induce any one to take charge of the yacht and man +her. The Admiral's astonishment at Archie's lack of influence among his +own neighbours and tenants was not very pleasant to bear, and Marion +openly said:-- + +"They are making cause with your wife, Archie, against you. They +imagine themselves very loyal and unselfish. Fools! a few extra +sovereigns would be much better." + +"But why make cause for my wife against me, Marion?" asked Archie. + +"You know best; ask Madame, she is my authority," and she shrugged her +shoulders and went laughing from his side. + +Nothing in all his married life had so annoyed Archie as this dour +displeasure of men who had always before been glad to serve him. Madame +was indignant, sorrowful, anxious, everything else that could further +irritate her angry son; and poor Sophy might well have prayed in those +days "deliver me from my friends!" But at length the yacht was ready +for sea, and Archie ran upstairs in the middle of one hot afternoon to +bid his wife "goodbye!" + +She was resting on her bed, and he never forgot the eager, wistful, +longing look of the wasted white face on the white pillow. He told her +to take care of herself for his sake. He told her not to let any one +worry or annoy her. He kissed her tenderly, and then, after he had +closed the door, he came back and kissed her again; and there were days +coming in which it was some comfort to him to remember this trifling +kindness. + +"You will not forget me, Archie?" she asked sadly. + +"I will not, sweetheart," he answered. + +"You will write me a letter when you can, dear?" + +"I will be sure to do so." + +"You--you--you will love me best of all?" + +"How can I help it? Don't cry now. Send me away with a smile." + +"Yes, dear. I will try and be happy, and try and get well." + +"I am sorry you cannot go with us, Sophy." + +"I am sorry too, Archie; but I could not bear the knocking about, and +the noise and bustle, and the merry-making. I should only spoil your +pleasure. I wouldn't like to do that, dear. Good-bye, and good-bye." + +For a few minutes he was very miserable. A sense of shame came over +him. He felt that he was unkind, selfish, and quite unworthy of the +tender love given him. But in half an hour he was out at sea, Marion +was at his side, the Admiral was consulting him about the cooling of +the dinner wines, the skipper was promising them a lively sail with a +fair wind--and the white, loving face went out of his memory, and out +of his consideration. + +Yet while he was sipping wine and singing songs with Marion Glamis, and +looking with admiration into her rosy, glowing face, Sophy was +suffering all the slings and arrows of Madame's outrageous hatred. She +complained all dinner-time, even while the servants were present, of +the deprivation she had to endure for Sophy's sake. The fact was she +had not been invited to join the yachting-party, two very desirable +ladies having refused to spend two months in her society. But she +ignored this fact, and insisted on the fiction that she had been +compelled to remain at home to look after Sophy. + +"I wish you had gone! Oh, I wish you had gone and left me in peace!" +cried the poor wife at last in a passion. "I could have been happy if I +had been left to myself." + +"And your low relations! You have made mischief enough with them for +Archie, poor fellow! Don't tell me that you make no complaints. The +shameful behaviour of those vulgar fishermen, refusing to sail a yacht +for Braelands, is proof positive of your underhand ways." + +"My relations are not low. They would scorn to do the low, cruel, +wicked things some people who call themselves 'high born' do all the +time. But low or high, they are mine, and while Archie is away, I +intend to see them as often as I can." + +This little bit of rebellion was the one thing in which she could show +herself Mistress of Braelands; for she knew that she could rely on +Thomas to bring the carriage to her order. So the next morning she went +very early to call on Griselda Kilgour. Griselda had not seen her niece +for some time, and she was shocked at the change in her appearance, +indeed, she could hardly refrain the exclamations of pity and fear that +flew to her lips. + +"Send the carriage to the _Queens Arms_," she said, "and stay with me +all day, Sophy, my dear." + +"Very well, Aunt, I am tired enough. Let me lie down on the sofa, and +take off my bonnet and cloak. My clothes are just a weight and a +weariness." + +"Aren't you well, dearie?" + +"I must be sick someway, I think. I can't sleep, and I can't eat; and I +am that weak I haven't the strength or spirit to say a word back to +Madame, however ill her words are to me." + +"I heard that Braelands had gone away?" + +"Aye, for two months." + +"With the Glamis crowd?" + +"Yes." + +"Why didn't you go too?" + +"I couldn't thole the sail, nor the company." + +"Do you like Miss Glamis?" + +"I'm feared I hate her. Oh! Aunt, she makes love to Archie before my +very eyes, and Madame tells me morning, noon, and night, that she was +his first love and ought to have married him." + +"I wouldn't stand the like of that. But Archie is not changed to you, +dearie?" + +"I cannot say he is; but what man can be aye with a fond woman, bright +and bonnie, and not think of her as he shouldn't think? I'm not blaming +Archie much. It is Madame and Miss Glamis, and above all my own +shortcomings. I can't talk, I can't dress, I can't walk, nor in any way +act, as that set of women do. I am like a fish out of its element. It +is bonnie enough in the water; but it only flops and dies if you take +it out of the water and put it on the dry land. I wish I had never seen +Archie Braelands! If I hadn't, I would have married Andrew Binnie, and +been happy and well enough." + +"You were hearing that he is now Captain Binnie of the Red-White +Fleet?" + +"Aye, I heard. Madame was reading about it in the Largo paper. Andrew +is a good man, Aunt. I am glad of his good luck." + +"Christina is well married too. You were hearing of that?" + +"Aye; but tell me all about it." + +So Griselda entered into a narration which lasted until Sophy slipped +into a deep slumber. And whether it was simply the slumber of utter +exhaustion, or whether it was the sweet oblivion which results from a +sense of peace long denied, or perhaps the union of both these +conditions, the result was that she lay wrapped in an almost lethargic +sleep for many hours. Twice Thomas came with the carriage, and twice +Griselda sent him away. And the man shook his head sadly and said:-- + +"Let her alone; I wouldn't be the one to wake her up for all my place +is worth. It may be a health sleep." + +"Aye, it may be," answered Griselda, "but I have heard old folk say +that such black, deep sleep is sent to fit the soul for some calamity +lying in wait for it. It won't be lucky to wake her anyway." + +"No, and I am thinking nothing worse can come to the little mistress +than the sorrow she is tholing now. I'll be back in an hour, Miss +Kilgour." + +Thus it happened that it was late in the afternoon when Sophy returned +to her home, and her rest had so refreshed her that she was more than +usually able to hold her own with Madame. Many unpardonable words were +said on both sides; and the quarrel, thus early inaugurated, raged from +day to-day, either in open recrimination, or in a still more +distressing interference with all Sophy's personal desires and +occupations. The servants were, in a measure, compelled to take part in +the unnatural quarrel; and before three weeks were over, Sophy's +condition was one of such abnormal excitement that she was hardly any +longer accountable for her actions. The final blow was struck while she +was so little able to bear it. A letter from Archie, posted in +Christiania and addressed to his wife, came one morning. As Sophy was +never able to come down to breakfast, Madame at once appropriated the +letter. When she had read it and finished her breakfast, she went to +Sophy's room. + +"I have had a letter from Archie," she said. + +"Was there none for me?" + +"No; but I thought you might like to know that Archie says he never was +so happy in all his life. The Admiral, and Marion, and he, are in +Christiania for a week or two, and enjoying themselves every minute of +the time. Dear Marion! _She_ knows how to make Archie happy. It is a +great shame I could not be with them." + +"Is there any message for me?" + +"Not a word. I suppose Archie knew I should tell you all that it was +necessary for you to know." + +"Please go away; I want to go to sleep." + +"You want to cry. You do nothing but sleep and cry, and cry and sleep; +no wonder you have tired Archie's patience out." + +"I have not tired Archie out. Oh, I wish he was here! I wish he was +here!" + +"He will be back in five or six weeks, unless Marion persuades him to +go to the Mediterranean--and, as the Admiral is so fond of the sea, +that move is not unlikely." + +"Please go away." + +"I shall be only too happy to do so." + +Now it happened that the footman, in taking in the mail, had noticed +the letter for Sophy, and commented on it in the kitchen; and every +servant in the house had been glad for the joy it would bring to the +lonely, sick woman. So there was nothing remarkable in her maid saying, +as she dressed her mistress:-- + +"I hope Mr. Braelands is well; and though I say it as perhaps I +shouldn't say it, we was all pleased at your getting Master's letter +this morning. We all hope it will make you feel brighter and stronger, +I'm sure." + +"The letter was Madame's letter, not mine, Leslie." + +"Indeed, it was not, ma'am. Alexander said himself, and I heard him, +'there is a long letter for Mrs. Archibald this morning,' and we were +all that pleased as never was." + +"Are you sure, Leslie?" + +"Yes, I am sure." + +"Go down-stairs and ask Alexander." + +Leslie went and came back immediately with Alexander's positive +assertion that the letter was directed to _Mrs. Archibald Braelands,_ +Sophy made no answer, but there was a swift and remarkable change in +her appearance and manner. She put her physical weakness out of her +consideration, and with a flush on her cheeks and a flashing light in +her eyes, she went down to the parlour. Madame had a caller with her, a +lady of not very decided position, who was therefore eager to please +her patron; but Sophy was beyond all regard for such conventionalities +as she had been ordered to observe. She took no notice of the visitor, +but going straight to Madame, she said:-- + +"You took my letter this morning. You had no right to take it; you had +no right to read it; you had no right to make up lies from it and come +to my bedside with them. Give me my letter." + +Madame turned to her visitor. "You see this impossible creature!" she +cried. "She demands from me a letter that never came." "It did come. +You have my letter. Give it to me." + +"My dear Sophy, go to your room. You are not in a fit state to see any +one." + +"Give me my letter. At least, let me see the letter that came." + +"I shall do nothing of the kind. If you choose to suspect me, you must +do so. Can I make your husband write to you?" + +"He did write to me." + +"Mrs. Stirling, do you wonder now at my son's running away from his +home?" + +"Indeed I am fairly astonished at what I see and hear." + +"Sophy, you foolish woman, do not make any greater exhibit of yourself +that you have done. For heaven's sake, go to your own room. I have only +my own letter, and I told you all of importance in it." + +"Every servant in the house knows that the letter was mine." + +"What the servants know is nothing to me. Now, Sophy, I will stand no +more of this; either you leave the room, or Mrs. Stirling and I will do +so. Remember that you have betrayed yourself. I am not to blame." + +"What do you mean, Madame?" + +"I mean that you may have hallucinations, but that you need not exhibit +them to the world. For my son's sake, I demand that you go to your +room." + +"I want my letter. For God's sake, have pity on me, and give me my +letter!" + +Madame did not answer, but she took her friend by the arm and they left +the room together. In the hall Madame saw a servant, and she said +blandly-- + +"Go and tell Leslie to look after her mistress, she is in the parlour. +And you may also tell Leslie that if she allows her to come down again +in her present mood, she will be dismissed." + +"Poor thing!" said Mrs. Stirling. "You must have your hands full with +her, Madame. Nobody had any idea of such a tragedy as this though I +must say I have heard many wonder about the lady's seclusion." + +"You see the necessity for it. However, we do not wish any talk on the +subject." + +Slowly it came to Sophy's comprehension that she had been treated like +an insane woman, and her anger, though quiet, was of that kind that +means action of some sort. She went to her room, but it was only to +recall the wrong upon wrong, the insult upon insult she had received. + +"I will go away from it all," she said. "I will go away until Archie +returns. I will not sleep another night under the same roof with that +wicked woman. I will stay away till I die, ere I will do it." + +Usually she had little strength for much movement, but at this hour she +felt no physical weakness. She made Leslie bring her a street costume +of brown cloth, and she carefully put into her purse all the money she +had. Then she ordered the carriage and rode as far as her aunt +Kilgour's. "Come for me in an hour, Thomas," she said, and then she +entered the shop. + +"Aunt, I am come back to you. Will you let me stay with you till Archie +gets home? I can bide yon dreadful old woman no longer." + +"Meaning Madame Braelands?" + +"She is just beyond all things. This morning she has kept a letter that +Archie wrote me; and she has told me a lot of lies in its place. I'm +not able to thole her another hour." + +"I'll tell you what, Sophy, Madame was here since I saw you, and she +says you are neither to be guided nor endured I don't know who to +believe." + +"Oh! aunt, aunt, you know well I wouldn't tell you a lie. I am so +miserable! For God's sake, take me in!" + +"I'd like to, Sophy, but I'm not free to do so." + +"You're putting Madame's bit of siller and the work she's promised you +from the Glamis girl before my heart-break. Oh, how can you?" + +"Sophy, you have lived with me, and I saw you often dissatisfied and +unreasonable for nothing at all." + +"I was a bit foolish lassie then. I am a poor, miserable, sick woman +now." + +"You have no need to be poor, and miserable, and sick. I won't +encourage you to run away from your home and your duty. At any rate, +bide where you are till your husband comes back. I would be wicked to +give you any other advice." + +"You mean that you won't let me come and stay with you?" + +"No, I won't. I would be your worst enemy if I did." + +"Then good-bye. You will maybe be sorry some day for the 'No' you have +just said." + +She went slowly out of the store, and Griselda was very unhappy, and +called to her to come back and wait for her carriage. She did not heed +or answer, but walked with evident purpose down a certain street. It +led her to the railway station, and she went in and took a ticket for +Edinburgh. She had hardly done so when the train came thundering into +the station, she stepped into it, and in a few minutes was flying at +express rate to her destination. She had relatives in Edinburgh, and +she thought she knew their dwelling place, having called on them with +her Aunt Kilgour when they were in that city, just previous to her +marriage. But she found that they had removed, and no one in the +vicinity knew to what quarter of the town. She was too tired to pursue +inquiries, or even to think any more that day, and she went to a hotel +and tried to rest and sleep. In the morning she remembered that her +mother's cousin, Jane Anderson, lived in Glasgow at some number in +Monteith Row. The Row was not a long one, even if she had to go from +house to house to find her relative. So she determined to go on to +Glasgow. + +She felt ill, strangely ill; she was in a burning fever and did not +know it. Yet she managed to get into the proper train, and to retain +her consciousness for sometime afterwards, ere she succumbed to the +inevitable consequences of her condition. Before the train reached its +destination, however, she was in a desperate state, and the first +action of the guard was to call a carriage and send her to a hospital. + +After this kindness had been done, Sophy was dead to herself and the +world for nearly three weeks. She remembered nothing, she knew nothing, +she spoke only in the most disconnected and puzzling manner. For her +speech wandered between the homely fisher life of her childhood and the +splendid social life of Braelands. Her personality was equally +perplexing. The clothing she wore was of the finest quality; her rings, +and brooch, and jewelled watch, indicated wealth and station; yet her +speech, especially during the fever, was that of the people, and as she +began to help herself, she had little natural actions that showed the +want of early polite breeding. No letter or card, no name or address of +any kind, was found on her person; she appeared to be as absolutely +lost as a stone dropped into the deep sea. + +And when she came to herself and realised where she was, and found out +from her attendant the circumstances under which she had been brought +to the hospital, she was still more reticent. For her first thought +related to the annoyance Archie would feel at her detention in a public +hospital; her second, to the unmerciful use Madame would make of the +circumstance. She could not reason very clearly, but her idea was to +find her cousin and gain her protection, and then, from that more +respectable covett, to write to her husband. She might admit her +illness--indeed, she would be almost compelled to do that, for she had +fallen away so much, and had had her hair cut short during the height +of the fever--but Archie and Madame must not know that she had been in +a public hospital. For fisher-people have a singular dislike to public +charity of any kind; they help one another. And, to Sophy's +intelligence, the hospital episode was a disgrace that not even her +insensibility could quite excuse. + +Several weeks passed in that long, spotless, white room full of +suffering, before Sophy was able to stand upon her feet, before indeed +she began to realise the passage of time, and the consequences which +must have followed her long absence and silence. But all her efforts at +writing were failures. The thought she wished to express slipped off +into darkness as soon as she tried to write it; her vision failed her, +her hands failed her; she could only sink back upon her pillow and lie +inert and almost indifferent for hours afterwards. And as the one +letter she wished to write was to Archie, she could not depute it to +any one else. Besides, the nurse would tell _where_ she was, and that +was a circumstance she must at all hazards keep to herself. It had been +hot July weather when she was first placed on her hard, weary bed of +suffering, it was the end of September when she was able to leave the +hospital. Her purse with its few sovereigns in it was returned to her, +and the doctor told her kindly, if she had any friends in the world, to +go at once to their care. + +"You have talked a great deal of the sea and the boats," he said; "get +close to the sea if you can; it is perhaps the best and the only thing +for you." + +She thanked him and answered: "I am going to the Fife coast. I have +friends there, I think." She put out a little wasted hand, and he +clasped it with a sigh. + +"So young, so pretty, so good," he said to the nurse, as they stood +watching her walk very feebly and unsteadily away. + +"I will give her three months at the longest, if she has love and care. +I will give her three weeks--nay, I will say three days, if she has to +care for herself, or if any particular trouble come to her." + +Then they turned from the window, and Sophy hired a cab and went to +Monteith Row to try and find her friends. She wanted to write to her +husband and ask him to come for her. She thought she could do this best +from her cousin's home. "I will give her a bonnie ring or two, and I +will tell her the whole truth, and she will be sure to stand by me, for +there is nothing wrong to stand by, and blood is aye thicker than +water." And then her thoughts wandered on to a contingency that brought +a flush of pain to her cheeks. "Besides, maybe Archie might have an ill +thought put into his head, and then the doctors and nurses in the +hospital could tell him what would make all clear." She went through +many of the houses, inquiring for Ellen Montgomery, but could not find +her, and she was finally obliged to go to a hotel and rest. "I will +take the lave of the houses in the morning," she thought, "it is aye +the last thing that is the right thing; everybody finds that out." + +That evening, however, something happened which changed all her ideas +and intentions. She went into the hotel parlour and sat down; there +were some newspapers on the table, and she lifted one. It was an +Edinburgh paper, but the first words her eyes fell on was her husband's +name. Her heart leaped up at the sight of it, and she read the +paragraph. Then the paper dropped from her hands. She felt that she was +going to faint, and by a supreme effort of will she recalled her senses +and compelled them to stay and suffer with her. Again, and then again, +she read the paragraph, unable at first to believe what she did read, +for it was a notice, signed by her husband, advising the world in +general that she had voluntarily left his home, and that he would no +longer be responsible for any debt she might contract in his name. To +her childlike, ignorant nature, this public exposure of her was a final +act. She felt that it was all the same as a decree of divorce. "Archie +had cast her off; Madame had at last parted them." For an hour she sat +still in a very stupour of despair. + +"But something might yet be done; yes, something must be done. She +would go instantly to Fife; she would tell Archie everything. He could +not blame her for being sick and beyond reason or knowledge. The +doctors and nurses of the hospital would certify to the truth of all +she said." Ah! she had only to look in a mirror to know that her own +wasted face and form would have been testimony enough. + +That night she could not move, she had done all that it was possible +for her to do that day; but on the morrow she would be rested and she +might trust herself to the noise and bustle of the street and railway. +The day was well on before she found strength to do this; but at length +she found herself on the direct road to Largo, though she could hardly +tell how it had been managed. As she approached the long chain of Fife +fishing-villages, she bought the newspaper most widely read in them; +and, to her terror and shame, found the same warning to honest folk +against her. She was heartsick. With this barrier between Archie and +herself, how could she go to Braelands? How could she face Madame? What +mockery would be made of her explanations? No, she must see Archie +alone. She must tell him the whole truth, somewhere beyond Madame's +contradiction and influence. Whom should she go to? Her aunt Kilgour +had turned her away, even before this disgrace. Her cousin Isobel's +husband had asked her not to come to his house and make loss and +trouble for him. If she went direct to Braelands, and Archie happened +to be out of the house, Madame would say such things of her before +every one as could never be unsaid. If she went to a hotel, she would +be known, and looked at, and whispered about, and maybe slighted. What +must she do? Where could she see her husband best? She was at her wit's +end. She was almost at the end of her physical strength and +consciousness. And in this condition, two men behind her began to talk +to the rustle of their turning newspapers. + +"This is a queer-like thing about Braelands and his wife," said one. + +"It is a very bad thing. If the wife has gane awa', she has been driven +awa' by bad usage. There is an old woman at Braelands that is as +evil-hearted as if she had slipped out o' hell for a few years. +Traill's girl was good and bonnie; she was too good, or she would have +held her ain side better." + +"That may be; but there is a reason deeper than that. The man is +wanting to marry the Glamis girl. He has already began a suit for +divorce, I hear. Man, man, there is always a woman at the bottom of +every sin and trouble!" + +Then they began to speak of the crops and the shooting, and Sophy +listened in vain for more intelligence. But she had heard enough. Her +soul cried out against the hurry and shame of the steps taken in the +matter. "So cruel as Archie is!" she sighed. "He might have looked for +me! He might have found me even in that awful hospital! He ought to +have done so, and taken me away and nursed me himself! If he had loved +me! If he had loved me, he would have done these things!". Despair +chilled her very blood. She had a thought of going to Braelands, even +if she died on its threshold; and then suddenly she remembered Janet +Binnie. + +As Janet's name came to her mind, the train stopped at Largo, and she +slipped out among the hurrying crowd and took the shortest road to +Pittendurie. It was then nearly dark, and the evening quite chill and +damp; but there was now a decisive end before the dying woman. "She +must reach Janet Binnie, and then leave all to her. She would bring +Archie to her side. She would be sufficient for Madame. If this only +could be managed while she had strength to speak, to explain, to put +herself right in Archie's eyes, then she would be willing and glad to +die." Step by step, she stumbled forward, full of unutterable anguish +of heart, and tortured at every movement by an inability to get breath +enough to carry her forward. + +At last, at last, she came in sight of Janet's cottage. The cliff +terrified her; but she must get up it, somehow. And as she painfully +made step after step, a light shone through the open door and seemed to +give her strength and welcome. Janet had been spending the evening with +her daughter, and had sat with her until near her bedtime. She was +doing her last household duties, and the last of all was to close the +house-door. When she went to do this, a little figure crouched on the +door-step, two weak hands clasped her round the knees, and the very +shadow of a thin, pitiful voice sobbed:-- + +"Janet! Take me in, Janet! Take me in to die! I'll not trouble you +long--it is most over, Janet!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +DRIVEN TO HIS DUTY + + +Toward this culmination of her troubles Archie had indeed contributed +far too much, but yet not as much as Sophy thought. He had taken her +part, he had sought for her, he had very reluctantly come to accept his +mother's opinions. His trip had not been altogether the heaven Madame +represented it. The Admiral had proved himself dictatorial and +sometimes very disagreeable at sea; the other members of the party had +each some unpleasant peculiarities which the cramped quarters and the +monotony of yacht life developed. Some had deserted altogether, others +grumbled more than was agreeable, and Marion's constant high spirits +proved to be at times a great exaction. + +Before the close of the pleasure voyage, Archie frequently went alone +to remember the sweet, gentle affection of his wife, her delight in his +smallest attentions, her instant recognition of his desires, her +patient endeavours to please him, her resignation to all his neglect. +Her image grew into his best imagination, and when he left the yacht at +her moorings in Pittendurie Bay, he hastened to Sophy with the +impatience of a lover who is also a husband. + +Madame had heard of his arrival and was watching for her son. She met +him at the door and he embraced her affectionately, but his first words +were, "Sophy, I hope she is not ill. Where is she?" + +"My dear Archie, no one knows. She left your home three weeks after you +had sailed." + +"My God, Mother, what do you mean?" + +"No one knows why she left, no one knows or can find out where she went +to. Of course, I have my suspicions." + +"Sophy! Sophy! Sophy!" he cried, sinking into a chair and covering his +face, but, whatever Madame's suspicions, she could not but see that +Archie had not a doubt of his wife's honour. After a few minutes' +silence, he turned to his mother and said:-- + +"You have scolded for once, Mother, more than enough. I am sure it is +your unkindness that has driven my wife from her home. You promised me +not to interfere with her little plans and pleasures." + +"If I am to bear the blame of the woman's low tastes, I decline to +discuss the matter," and she left the room with an air of great +offence. + +Of course, if Madame would not discuss the matter with him, nothing +remained but the making of such inquiries as the rest of the household +could answer. Thomas readily told all he knew, which was the simple +statement that "he took his mistress to her aunt's and left her there, +and that when he returned for her, Miss Kilgour was much distressed and +said she had already left." Archie then immediately sought Miss +Kilgour, and from her learned the particulars of his wife's +wretchedness, especially those points relating to the appropriated +letter. He flushed crimson at this outrage, but made no remark +concerning it. + +"My one desire now," he said, "is to find out where Sophy has taken +refuge. Can you give me any idea?" + +"If she is not in Pittendurie,--and I can find no trace of her +there,--then I think she may be in Edinburgh or Glasgow. You will mind +she had cousins in Edinburgh, and she was very kind with them at the +time of her marriage. I thought of them first of all, and I wrote three +letters to them; but there has been no answer to any of the three. She +has friends in Glasgow, but I am sure she had no knowledge as to where +they lived. Besides, I got their address from kin in Aberdeen and wrote +there also, and they answered me and said they had never seen or heard +tell of Sophy. Here is their letter." + +Archie read it carefully and was satisfied that Sophy was not in +Glasgow. The silence of the Edinburgh cousins was more promising, and +he resolved to go at once to that city and interview them. He did not +even return to Braelands, but took the next train southward. Of course +his inquiries utterly failed. He found Sophy's relatives, but their air +of amazement and their ready and positive denial of all knowledge of +his lost wife were not to be doubted. Then he returned to Largo. He +assured himself that Sophy was certainly in hiding among the +fisher-folk in Pittendurie, and that he would only have to let it be +known that he had returned for her to appear. Indeed she must have seen +the yacht at anchor, and he fully expected to find her on the door-step +waiting for him. As he approached Braelands, he fancied her arms round +his neck, and saw her small, wistful, flushing face against his breast; +but it was all a dream. The door was closed, and when it admitted him +there was nothing but silence and vacant rooms. He was nearly +distracted with sorrow and anger, and Madame had a worse hour than she +ever remembered when Archie asked her about the fatal letter that had +been the active cause of trouble. + +"The letter was Sophy's," he said passionately, "and you knew it was. +How then could you be so shamefully dishonourable as to keep it from +her?" + +"If you choose to reproach me on mere servants' gossip, I cannot +prevent you." + +"It is not servants' gossip. I know by the date on which Sophy left +home that it must have been the letter I wrote her from Christiania. It +was a disgraceful, cruel thing for you to do. I can never look you in +your face again, Mother. I do not feel that I can speak to you, or even +see you, until my wife has forgiven both you and myself. Oh, if I only +knew where to look for her!" + +"She is not far to seek; she is undoubtedly among her kinsfolk at +Pittendurie. You may remember, perhaps, how they felt toward you before +you went away. After you went, she was with them continually." + +"Then Thomas lies. He says he never took her anywhere but to her aunt +Kilgour's." + +"I think Thomas is more likely to lie than I am. If you have strength +to bear the truth, I will tell you what I am convinced of." + +"I have strength for anything but this wretched suspense and fear." + +"Very well, then, go to the woman called Janet Binnie; you may +recollect, if you will, that her son Andrew was Sophy's ardent +lover--so much so, that her marriage to you nearly killed him. He has +become a captain lately, wears gold buttons and bands, and is really a +very handsome and important man in the opinion of such people as your +wife. I believe Sophy is either in his mother's house or else she has +gone to--London." + +"Why London?" + +"Captain Binnie sails continually to London. Really, Archie, there are +none so blind as those who won't see." + +"I will not believe such a thing of Sophy. She is as pure and innocent +as a little child." + +Madame laughed scornfully. "She is as pure and innocent as those +baby-faced women usually are. As a general rule, the worst creature in +the world is a saint in comparison. What did Sophy steal out at night +for? Tell me that. Why did she walk to Pittendurie so often? Why did +she tell me she was going to walk to her aunt's, and then never go?" + +"Mother, Mother, are you telling me the truth?" + +"Your inquiry is an insult, Archie. And your blindness to Sophy's real +feelings is one of the most remarkable things I ever saw. Can you not +look back and see that ever since she married you she has regretted and +fretted about the step? Her heart is really with her fisher and sailor +lover. She only married you for what you could give her; and having got +what you could give her, she soon ceased to prize it, and her love went +back to Captain Binnie,--that is, if it had ever left him." + +Conversation based on these shameful fabrications was continued for +hours, and Madame, who had thoroughly prepared herself for it, brought +one bit of circumstantial evidence after another to prove her +suspicions. The wretched husband was worked to a fury of jealous anger +not to be controlled. "I will search every cottage in Pittendurie," he +said in a rage. "I will find Sophy, and then kill her and myself." + +"Don't be a fool, Archibald Braelands. Find the woman,--that is +necessary,--then get a divorce from her, and marry among your own kind. +Why should you lose your life, or even ruin it, for a fisherman's old +love? In a year or two you will have forgotten her and thrown the whole +affair behind your back." + +It is easy to understand how a conversation pursued for hours in this +vein would affect Archie. He was weak and impulsive, ready to suspect +whatever was suggested, jealous of his own rights and honour, and on +the whole of that pliant nature which a strong, positive woman like +Madame could manipulate like wax. He walked his room all night in a +frenzy of jealous love. Sophy lost to him had acquired a sudden charm +and value beyond all else in life; he longed for the morning; for +Madame's positive opinions had thoroughly convinced him, and he felt a +great deal more sure than she did that Sophy was in Pittendurie. And +yet, after every such assurance to himself, his inmost heart asked +coldly, "Why then has she not come back to you?" + +He could eat no breakfast, and as soon as he thought the village was +awake, he rode rapidly down to Pittendurie. Janet was alone; Andrew was +somewhere between Fife and London; Christina was preparing her morning +meal in her own cottage. Janet had already eaten hers, and she was +washing her tea-cup and plate and singing as she did so,-- + + "I cast my line in Largo Bay, + And fishes I caught nine; + There's three to boil, and three to fry, + And three to bait the line," + +when she heard a sharp rap at her door. The rap was not made with the +hand; it was peremptory and unusual, and startled Janet. She put down +the plate she was wiping, ceased singing, and went to the door. The +Master of Braelands was standing there. He had his short riding-whip in +his hand, and Janet understood at once that he had struck her house +door with the handle of it. She was offended at this, and she asked +dourly:-- + +"Well, sir, your bidding?" + +"I came to see my wife. Where is she?" + +"You ought to know that better than any other body. It is none of my +business." + +"I tell you she has left her home." + +"I have no doubt she had the best of good reasons for doing so." + +"She had no reason at all." + +Janet shrugged her shoulders, smiled with scornful disbelief, and +looked over the tossing black waters. + +"Woman, I wish to go through your house, I believe my wife is in it." + +"Go through my house? No indeed. Do you think I'll let a man with a +whip in his hand go through my house after a poor frightened bird like +Sophy? No, no, not while my name is Janet Binnie." + +"I rode here; my whip is for my horse. Do you think I would use it on +any woman?" + +"God knows, I don't." + +"I am not a brute." + +"You say so yourself." + +"Woman, I did not come here to bandy words with you." + +"Man, I'm no caring to hear another word you have to say; take yourself +off my door-stone," and Janet would have shut the door in his face, but +he would not permit her. + +"Tell Sophy to come and speak to me." + +"Sophy is not here." + +"She has no reason to be afraid of me." + +"I should think not." + +"Go and tell her to come to me then." + +"She is not in my house. I wish she was." + +"She _is_ in your house." + +"Do you dare to call me a liar? Man alive! Do it again, and every +fisher-wife in Pittendurie will help me to give you your fairings." + +"_Tush!_! Let me see my wife." + +"Take yourself off my doorstep, or it will be the worse for you." + +"Let me see my wife." + +"Coming here and chapping on my door--on Janet Binnie's door!--with a +horsewhip!" + +"There is no use trying to deceive me with bad words. Let me pass." + +"Off with you! you poor creature, you! Sophy Traill had a bad bargain +with the like of you, you drunken, lying, savage-like, wife-beating +pretence o' a husband!" + +"Mother' Mother!" cried Christina, coming hastily forward; "Mother, +what are you saying at all?" + +"The God's truth, Christina, that and nothing else. Ask the mean, +perfectly unutterable scoundrel how he got beyond his mother's +apron-strings so far as this?" + +Christina turned to Braelands. "Sir," she said, "what's your will?" + +"My wife has left her home, and I have been told she is in Mistress +Binnie's house." + +"She is not. We know nothing about the poor, miserable lass, God help +her!" + +"I cannot believe you." + +"Please yourself anent believing me, but you had better be going, sir. +I see Limmer Scott and Mistress Roy and a few more fishwives looking +this way." + +"Let them look." + +"Well, they have their own fashion of dealing with men who ill use a +fisher lass. Sophy was born among them." + +"You are a bad lot! altogether a bad lot!" + +"Go now, and go quick, or we'll prove to you that we are a bad lot!" +cried Janet. "I wouldn't myself think anything of putting you in a +blanket and tossing you o'er the cliff into the water." And Janet, with +arms akimbo and eyes blazing with anger, was not a comfortable sight. + +So, with a smile of derision, Braelands turned his back on the women, +walking with an affected deliberation which by no means hid the white +feather from the laughing, jeering fisher-wives who came to their door +at Janet's call for them, and whose angry mocking followed him until he +was out of sight and hearing. Then there was a conclave in Janet's +house, and every one told a different version of the Braelands trouble. +In each case, however, Madame was credited with the whole of the +sorrow-making, though Janet stoutly asserted that "a man who was feared +for his mother wasn't fit to be a husband." + +"Madame's tongue and temper is kindled from a coal out of hell," she +said, "and that is the God's truth; but she couldn't do ill with them, +if Archie Braelands wasn't a coward--a sneaking, trembling coward, that +hasn't the heart in him to stand between poor little Sophy and the most +spiteful, hateful old sinner this side of the brimstone pit." + +But though the birr and first flame of the village anger gradually +cooled down, Janet's and Christina's hearts were hot and heavy within +them, and they could not work, nor eat, nor sleep with any relish, for +thinking of the poor little runaway wife. Indeed, in every cottage +there was one topic of wonder and pity, and one sad lament when two or +three of the women came together: "Poor Sophy! Poor Sophy Braelands!" It +was noticeable, however, that not a single woman had a wrong thought of +Sophy. Madame could easily suspect the worst, but the "worst" was an +incredible thing to a fisher-wife. Some indeed blamed her for not +tholing her grief until her husband came back, but not a single heart +suspected her of a liaison with her old lover. + +Archie, however, returned from his ineffectual effort to find her with +every suspicion strengthened. Madame could hardly have hoped for a +visit so completely in her favour, and after it Archie was entirely +under her influence. It is true he was wretchedly despondent, but he +was also furiously angry. He fancied himself the butt of his friends, +he believed every one to be talking about his affairs, and, day by day, +his sense of outrage and dishonour pressed him harder and harder. In a +month he was quite ready to take legal steps to release himself from +such a doubtful tie, and Madame, with his tacit permission, took the +first step towards such a consummation by writing with her own hand the +notice which had driven Sophy to despair. + +While events were working towards this end, Sophy was helpless and +senseless in the Glasgow hospital. Archie's anger was grounded on the +fact that she must know of his return, and yet she had neither come +back to her home nor sent him a line of communication. He told himself +that if she had written him one line, he would have gone to the end of +the earth after her. And anon he told himself that if she had been true +to him, she would have written or else come back to her home. Say she +was sick, she could have got some one to use the pen or the telegraph +for her. And this round of reasoning, always led into the same channel +by Madame, finally assumed not the changeable quality of argument, but +the positiveness of fact. + +So the notice of her abandonment was sent by the press far and wide, +and yet there came no protest against it; for Sophy had brought to the +hospital nothing by which she could be identified, and as no hint of +her personal appearance was given, it was impossible to connect her +with it. Thus while its cruel words linked suspicion with her name in +every household where they went, she lay ignorantly passive, knowing +nothing at all of the wrong done her and of the unfortunate train of +circumstances which finally forced her husband to doubt her love and +her honour. It was an additional calamity that this angry message of +severance was the first thing that met her consciousness when she was +at all able to act. + +Her childish ignorance and her primitive ideas aided only too well the +impression of finality it gave. She put it beside all she had seen and +heard of her husband's love for Marion Glamis, and the miserable +certainty was plain to her. She knew she was dying, and a quiet place +to die in and a little love to help her over the hard hour seemed to be +all she could expect now; the thought of Janet and Christina was her +last hope. Thus it was that Janet found her trembling and weeping on +her doorstep; thus it was she heard that pitiful plaint, "Take me in, +Janet! Take me in to die!" + +Never for one moment did Janet think of refusing this sad petition. She +sat down beside her; she laid Sophy's head against her broad loving +breast; she looked with wondering pity at the small, shrunken face, so +wan and ghostlike in the gray light. Then she called Christina, and +Christina lifted Sophy easily in her arms, and carried her into her own +house. "For we'll give Braelands no occasion against either her or +Andrew," she said. Then they undressed the weary woman and made her a +drink of strong tea; and after a little she began to talk in a quick, +excited manner about her past life. + +"I ran away from Braelands at the end of July," she said. "I could not +bear the life there another hour; I was treated before folk as if I had +lost my senses; I was treated when I was alone as if I had no right in +the house, and as if my being in it was a mortal wrong and misery to +every one. And at the long last the woman there kept Archie's letter +from me, and I was wild at that, and sick and trembling all over; and I +went to Aunt Griselda, and she took Madame's part and would not let me +stay with her till Archie came back to protect me. What was I to do? I +thought of my cousins in Edinburgh and went there, and could not find +them. Then there was only Ellen Montgomery in Glasgow, and I was ill +and so tired; but I thought I could manage to reach her." + +"And didn't you reach her, dearie?" + +"No. I got worse and worse; and when I reached Glasgow I knew nothing +at all, and they sent me to the hospital." + +"Oh, Sophy! Sophy!" + +"Aye, they did. What else could be, Janet? No one knew who I was; I +could not tell any one. They weren't bad to me. I suffered, but they +did what they could to help me. Such dreadful nights, Janet! Such long, +awful days! Week after week in which I knew nothing but pain; I could +not move myself. I could not write to any one, for my thoughts would +not stay with me; and my sight went away, and I had hardly strength to +live." + +"Try and forget it, Sophy, darling," said Christina. "We will care for +you now, and the sea-winds will blow health to you." + +She shook her head sadly. "Only the winds of heaven will ever blow +health to me, Christina," she answered; "I have had my death blow. I am +going fast to them who have gone before me. I have seen my mother +often, the last wee while. I knew it was my mother, though I do not +remember her; she is waiting for her bit lassie. I shall not have to go +alone; and His rod and staff will comfort me, I will fear no evil." + +They kissed and petted and tried to cheer her, and Janet begged her to +sleep; but she was greatly excited and seemed bent on excusing and +explaining what she had done. "For I want you to tell Archie +everything, Janet," she said. "I shall maybe never see him again; but +you must take care, that he has not a wrong thought of me." + +"He'll get the truth and the whole truth from me, dearie." + +"Don't scold him, Janet. I love him very much. It is not his fault." + +"I don't know that." + +"No, it is not. I wasn't home to Braelands two days before Madame began +to make fun of my talk, and my manners, and my dress, and of all I did +and said. And she got Archie to tell me I must mind her, and try to +learn how to be a fine lady like her; and I could not--I could not. And +then she set Archie against me, and I was scolded just for nothing at +all. And then I got ill, and she said I was only sulky and awkward; but +I just could not learn the books I be to learn, nor walk as she showed +me how to walk, nor talk like her, nor do anything at all she tried to +make me do. Oh, the weary, weary days that I have fret myself through! +Oh, the long, painful nights! I am thankful they can never, never come +back." + +"Then don't think of them now, Sophy. Try and rest yourself a bit, and +to-morrow you shall tell me everything." + +"To-morrow will be too late, can't you see that, Janet? I must clear +myself to-night--now--or you won't know what to say to Archie." + +"Was Archie kind to you, Sophy?" + +"Sometimes he was that kind I thought I must be in the wrong, and then +I tried again harder than ever to understand the weary books and do +what Madame told me. Sometimes they made him cross at me, and I thought +I must die with the shame and heartache from it. But it was not till +Marion Glamis came back that I lost all hope. She was Archie's first +love, you know." + +"She was nothing of the kind. I don't believe he ever cared a pin for +her. You had the man's first love; you have it yet, if it is worth +aught. He was here seeking you, dearie, and he was distracted with the +loss of you." + +"In the morning you will send for him, Janet, very early; and though +I'll be past talking then, you will talk for me. You will tell him how +Madame tortured me about the Glamis girl, how she kept my letters, and +made Mrs. Stirling think I was not in my right mind," and so between +paroxysms of pain and coughing, she went over and over the sad story of +petty wrongs that had broken her heart, and driven her at last to +rebellion and flight. + +"Oh! my poor lassie, why didn't you come to Christina and me?" + +"There was aye the thought of Andrew. Archie would have been angry, +maybe, and I could only feel that I must get away from Braelands. When +aunt failed me, something seemed to drive me to Edinburgh, and then on +to Glasgow; but it was all right, you see, I have saved you and +Christina for the last hour," and she clasped Christina's hand and laid +her head closer to Janet's breast. + +"And I would like to see the man or woman that will dare to trouble you +now, my bonnie bairn," said Janet. There was a sob in her voice, and +she crooned kind words to the dying girl, who fell asleep at last in +her arms. Then Janet went to the door, and stood almost gasping in the +strong salt breeze; for the shock of Sophy's pitiful return had hurt +her sorely. There was a full moon in the sky, and the cold, gray waters +tossed restlessly under it. "Lord help us, we must bear what's sent!" +she whispered; then she noticed a steamboat with closely reefed sails +lying in the offing; and added thankfully, "There is 'The Falcon,' God +bless her! And it's good to think that Andrew Binnie isn't far away; +maybe he'll be wanted. I wonder if I ought to send a word to him; if +Sophy wants to see him, she shall have her way; dying folk don't make +any mistakes." + +Now when Andrew came to anchor at Pittendurie, it was his custom to +swing out a signal light, and if the loving token was seen, Janet and +Christina answered by placing a candle in their windows. This night +Janet put three candles in her window. "Andrew will wonder at them," +she thought, "and maybe come on shore to find out whatever their +meaning may be." Then she hurriedly closed the door. The night was +cold, but it was more than that,--the air had the peculiar coldness +that gives sense of the supernatural, such coldness as precedes the +advent of a spirit. She was awed, she opened her mouth as if to speak, +but was dumb; she put out her hands--but who can arrest the invisible? + +Sleep was now impossible. The very air of the room was sensitive. +Christina sat wide awake on one side of the bed, Janet on the other; +they looked at each other frequently, but did not talk. There was no +sound but the rising moans of the northeast wind, no light but the glow +of the fire and the shining of the full moon looking out from the +firmament as from eternity. Sophy slept restlessly like one in +half-conscious pain, and when she awoke before dawning, she was in a +high fever and delirious; but there was one incessant, gasping cry for +"Andrew!" + +"Andrew! Andrew! Andrew!" she called with fast failing breath, "Andrew, +come and go for Archie. Only you can bring him to me." And Janet never +doubted at this hour what love and mercy asked for. "Folks may talk if +they want to," she said to Christina, "I am going down to the village +to get some one to take a message to Andrew. Sophy shall have her will +at this hour if I can compass it." + +The men of the village were mostly yet at the fishing, but she found +two old men who willingly put out to "The Falcon" with the message for +her captain. Then she sent a laddie for the nearest doctor, and she +called herself for the minister, and asked him to come and see the sick +woman; "forbye, minister," she added, "I'm thinking you will be the +only person in Pittendurie that will have the needful control o' temper +to go to Braelands with the news." She did not specially hurry any one, +for, sick as Sophy was, she believed it likely Archie Braelands and a +good doctor might give her such hope and relief as would prolong her +life a little while. "She is so young," she thought, "and love and +sea-breezes are often a match for death himself." + +The old men who had gone for Andrew were much too infirm to get close +to "The Falcon." For with the daylight her work had begun, and she was +surrounded on all sides by a melee of fishing-boats. Some were +discharging their boxes of fish; others were struggling to get some +point of vantage; others again fighting to escape the uproar. The air +was filled with the roar of the waves and with the voices of men, +blending in shouts, orders, expostulations, words of anger, and words +of jest. + +Above all this hubbub, Andrew's figure on the steamer's bridge towered +large and commanding, as he watched the trunks of fish hauled on board, +and then dragged, pushed, thrown, or kicked, as near the mouth of the +hold as the blockade of trunks already shipped would permit. But, sharp +as a crack of thunder, a stentorian voice called out:-- + +"Captain Binnie wanted! Girl dying in Pittendurie wants him!" + +Andrew heard. The meaning of the three lights was now explained. He had +an immediate premonition that it was Sophy, and he instantly deputed +his charge to Jamie, and was at the gunwale before the shouter had +repeated his alarm. To a less prompt and practised man, a way of +reaching the shore would have been a dangerous and tedious +consideration; but Andrew simply selected a point where a great wave +would lift a small boat near to the level of the ship's bulwarks, and +when this occurred, he leaped into her, and was soon going shoreward as +fast as his powerful stroke at the oars could carry him. + +When he reached Christina's cottage, Sophy had passed beyond all earthly +care and love. She heeded not the tenderest words of comfort; her life +was inexorably coming to its end; and every one of her muttered words +was mysterious, important, wondrous, though they could make out nothing +she said, save only that she talked about "angels resting in the +hawthorn bowers." Hastily Christina gave Andrew the points of her +sorrowful story, and then she suddenly remembered that a strange man had +brought there that morning some large, important-looking papers which he +had insisted on giving to the dying woman. Andrew, on examination, found +them to be proceedings in the divorce case between Archibald Braelands +and his wife Sophy Traill. + +"Some one has recognised her in the train last night and then followed +her here," he said pitifully. "They were in a gey hurry with their cruel +work. I hope she knows nothing about it." + +"No, no, they didn't come till she was clean beyond the worriments of +this life. She did not see the fellow who put them in her hands; she +heard nothing he said to her." + +"Then if she comes to herself at all, say nothing about them. What for +should we tell her? Death will break her marriage very soon without +either judge or jury." + +"The doctor says in a few hours at the most." + +"Then there is no time to lose. Say a kind 'farewell' for me, +Christina, if you find a minute in which she can understand it. I'm off +to Braelands," and he put the divorce papers in his pocket, and went +down the cliff at a run. When he reached the house, Archie was at the +door on his horse and evidently in a hurry; but Andrew's look struck +him on the heart like a blow. He dismounted without a word, and +motioned to Andrew to follow him. They turned into a small room, and +Archie closed the door. For a moment there was a terrible silence, then +Andrew, with passionate sorrow, threw the divorce papers down on the +table. + +"You'll not require, Braelands, to fash folk with the like of them; +your wife is dying. She is at my sister's house. Go to her at once." + +"What is that to you? Mind your own business, Captain Binnie." + +"It is the business of every decent man to call comfort to the dying. +Go and say the words you ought to say. Go before it is too late." + +"Why is my wife at your sister's house?" + +"God pity the poor soul, she had no other place to die in! For Christ's +sake, go and say a loving word to her." + +"Where has she been all this time? Tell me that, sir." + +"Dying slowly in the public hospital at Glasgow." + +"_My God_!" + +"There is no time for words now; not a moment to spare. Go to your wife +at once." + +"She left me of her own free will. Why should I go to her now?" + +"She did not leave you; she was driven away by devilish cruelty. And +oh, man, man, go for your own sake then! To-morrow it will be too late +to say the words you will weep to say. Go for your own sake. Go to +spare yourself the black remorse that is sure to come if you don't go. +If you don't care for your poor wife, go for your own sake!" + +"I do care for my wife. I wished--" + +"Haste you then, don't lose a moment! Haste you! haste you! If it is +but one kind word before you part forever, give it to her. She has +loved you well; she loves you yet; she is calling for you at the +grave's mouth. Haste you, man! haste you!" + +His passionate hurry drove like a wind, and Braelands was as straw +before it. His horse stood there ready saddled; Andrew urged him to it, +and saw him flying down the road to Pittendurie before he was conscious +of his own efforts. Then he drew a long sigh, lifted the divorce papers +and threw them into the blazing fire. A moment or two he watched them +pass into smoke, and then he left the house with all the hurry of a +soul anxious unto death. Half-way down the garden path, Madame +Braelands stepped in front of him. + +"What have you come here for?" she asked in her haughtiest manner. + +"For Braelands." + +"Where have you sent him to in such a black hurry?" + +"To his wife. She is dying." + +"Stuff and nonsense!" + +"She is dying." + +"No such luck for my house. The creature has been dying ever since he +married her." + +"_You_ have been _killing her_ ever since he married her. Give way, +woman, I don't want to speak to you; I don't want to touch the very +clothes of you. I think no better of you than God Almighty does, and He +will ask Sophy's life at your hands." + +"I shall tell Braelands of your impertinence. It will be the worse for +you." + +"It will be as God wills, and no other way. Let me pass. Don't touch +me, there is blood on your hands, and blood on your skirts; and you are +worse--ten thousand times worse--than any murderer who ever swung on +the gallows-tree for her crime! Out of my way, Madame Braelands!" + +She stood before him motionless as a white stone with passion, and yet +terrified by the righteous anger she had provoked. Words would not come +to her, she could not obey his order and move out of his way, so Andrew +turned into another path and left her where she stood, for he was +impatient of delay, and with steps hurried and stumbling, he followed +the husband whom he had driven to his duty. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AMONG HER OWN PEOPLE + + +Braelands rode like a man possessed, furiously, until he reached the +foot of the cliff on which Janet's and Christina's cottages stood. Then +he flung the reins to a fisher-laddie, and bounded up the rocky +platform. Janet was standing in the door of Christina's cottage talking +to the minister. This time she made no opposition to Braelands's +entrance; indeed, there was an expression of pity on her face as she +moved aside to let him pass. + +He went in noiselessly, reverently, suddenly awed by the majesty of +Death's presence. This was so palpable and clear, that all the mere +material work of the house had been set aside. No table had been laid, +no meat cooked; there had been no thought of the usual duties of the +day-time. Life stood still to watch the great mystery transpiring in +the inner room. + +The door to it stood wide open, for the day was hot and windless. +Archie went softly in. He fell on his knees by his dying wife, he +folded her to his heart, he whispered into her fast-closing ears the +despairing words of love, reawakened, when all repentance was too late. +He called her back from the very shoal of time to listen to him. With +heart-broken sobs he begged her forgiveness, and she answered him with +a smile that had caught the glory of heaven. At that hour he cared not +who heard the cry of his agonising love and remorse. Sophy was the +whole of his world, and his anguish, so imperative, brought perforce +the response of the dying woman who loved him yet so entirely. A few +tears--the last she was ever to shed--gathered in her eyes; fondest +words of affection were broken on her lips, her last smile was for him, +her sweet blue eyes set in death with their gaze fixed on his +countenance. + +When the sun went down, Sophy's little life of twenty years was over. +Her last few hours were very peaceful. The doctor had said she would +suffer much; but she did not. Lying in Archie's arms, she slipped +quietly out of her clay tabernacle, and doubtless took the way nearest +to her Father's House. No one knew the exact moment of her +departure--no one but Andrew. He, standing humbly at the foot of her +bed, divined by some wondrous instinct the mystic flitting, and so he +followed her soul with fervent prayer, and a love which spurned the +grave and which was pure enough to venture into His presence with her. + +It was a scene and a moment that Archibald Braelands in his wildest and +most wretched after-days never forgot. The last rays of the setting sun +fell across the death-bed, the wind from the sea came softly through +the open window, the murmur of the waves on the sands made a mournful, +restless undertone to the majestic words of the minister, who, standing +by the bed-side, declared with uplifted hands and in solemnly +triumphant tones the confidence and hope of the departing spirit. + +"'Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations. + +"'Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever Thou hadst formed the +earth and the world; even from everlasting to everlasting, Thou art +God. + +"'For a thousand years in Thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past; +and as a watch in the night. + +"'The days of our years are three-score years and ten; and if by reason +of strength, they be four-score years, yet is their strength labor and +sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.'" + +Then there was a pause; Andrew said "_It is over!_" and Janet took the +cold form from the distracted husband, and closed the eyes forever. + +There was no more now for Archie to do, and he went out of the room +followed by Andrew. + +"Thank you for coming for me, Captain," he said, "you did me a kindness +I shall never forget." + +"I knew you would be glad. I am grieved to trouble you further, +Braelands, at this hour; but the dead must be waited on. It was Sophy's +wish to be buried with her own folk." + +"She is my wife." + +"Nay, you had taken steps to cast her off." + +"She ought to be brought to Braelands." + +"She shall never enter Braelands again. It was a black door to her. +Would you wish hatred and scorn to mock her in her coffin? She bid my +mother see that she was buried in peace and good will and laid with her +own people." + +Archie covered his face with his hands and tried to think. Not even +when dead could he force her into the presence of his mother--and it +was true he had begun to cast her off; a funeral from Braelands would +be a wrong and an insult. But all was in confusion in his mind and he +said: "I cannot think. I cannot decide. I am not able for anything +more. Let me go. To-morrow--I will send word--I will come." + +"Let it be so then. I am sorry for you, Braelands--but if I hear +nothing further, I will follow out Sophy's wishes." + +"You shall hear--but I must have time to think. I am at the last point. +I can bear no more." + +Then Andrew went with him down the cliff, and helped him to his saddle; +and afterwards he walked along the beach till he came to a lonely spot +hid in the rocks, and there he threw himself face downward on the +sands, and "communed with his own heart and was still." At this supreme +hour, all that was human flitted and faded away, and the primal essence +of self was overshadowed by the presence of the Infinite. When the +midnight tide flowed, the bitterness of the sorrow was over, and he had +reached that serene depth of the soul which enabled him to rise to his +feet and say "Thy Will be done!" + +The next day they looked for some communication from Braelands; yet +they did not suffer this expectation to interfere with Sophy's explicit +wish, and the preparations for her funeral went on without regard to +Archie's promise. It was well so, for there was no redemption of it. He +did not come again to Pittendurie, and if he sent any message, it was +not permitted to reach them. He was notified, however, of the funeral +ceremony, which was set for the Sabbath following her death, and Andrew +was sure he would at least come for one last look at the wife whom he +had loved so much and wronged so deeply. He did not do so. + +Shrouded in white, her hands full of white asters, Sophy was laid to +rest in the little wind blown kirkyard of Pittendurie. It was said by +some that Braelands watched the funeral from afar off, others declared +that he lay in his bed raving and tossing with fever, but this or that, +he was not present at her burial. Her own kin--who were fishers--laid +the light coffin on a bier made of oars, and carried it with psalm +singing to the grave. It was Andrew who threw on the coffin the first +earth. It was Andrew who pressed the cover of green turf over the small +mound, and did the last tender offices that love could offer. Oh, so +small a mound! A little child could have stepped over it, and yet, to +Andrew, it was wider than all the starry spaces. + +The day was a lovely one, and the kirkyard was crowded to see little +Sophy join the congregation of the dead. After the ceremony was over +the minister had a good thought, he said: "We will not go back to the +kirk, but we will stay here, and around the graves of our friends and +kindred praise God for the 'sweet enlargement' of their death." Then he +sang the first line of the paraphrase, "O God of Bethel by whose hand," +and the people took it from his lips, and made holy songs and words of +prayer fill the fresh keen atmosphere and mingle with the cries of the +sea-birds and the hushed complaining of the rising waters. And that +afternoon many heard for the first time those noble words from the Book +of Wisdom that, during the more religious days of the middle ages, were +read not only at the grave-side of the beloved, but also at every +anniversary of their death. + +"But if the righteous be cut off early by death; she shall be at rest. + +"For honor standeth not in length of days; neither is it computed by +number of years. + +"She pleased God and was beloved, and she was taken away from living +among sinners. + +"Her place was changed, lest evil should mar her understanding or +falsehood beguile her soul. + +"She was made perfect in a little while, and finished the work of many +years. + +"For her soul pleased God, and therefore He made haste to lead her +forth out of the midst of iniquity. + +"And the people saw it and understood it not; neither considered they +this-- + +"That the grace of God and His mercy are upon His saints, and His +regard unto His Elect." + +Chief among the mourners was Sophy's aunt Griselda. She now bitterly +repented the unwise and unkind "No." Sophy was dearer to her than she +thought, and when she had talked over her wrongs with Janet, her +indignation knew no bounds. It showed itself first of all to the author +of these wrongs. Madame came early to her shop on Monday morning, and +presuming on her last confidential talk with Miss Kilgour, began the +conversation on that basis. + +"You see, Miss Kilgour," she said with a sigh, "what that poor girl's +folly has led her to." + +"I see what she has come to. I'm not blaming Sophy, however." + +"Well, whoever is to blame--and I suppose Braelands should have been +more patient with the troubles he called to himself--I shall have to +put on 'blacks' in consequence. It is a great expense, and a very +useless one; but people will talk if I do not go into mourning for my +son's wife." + +"I wouldn't do it, if I was you." + +"Society obliges. You must make me two gowns at least." + +"I will not sew a single stitch for you." + +"Not sew for me?" + +"Never again; not if you paid me a guinea a stitch." + +"What do you mean? Are you in your senses?" + +"Just as much as poor Sophy was. And I'll never forgive myself for +listening to your lies about my niece. You ought to be ashamed of +yourself. Your cruelties to her are the talk of the whole +country-side." + +"How dare you call me a liar?" + +"When I think of wee Sophy in her coffin, I could call you something +far worse." + +"You are an impertinent woman." + +"Ah well, I never broke the Sixth Command. And if I was you, Madame, I +wouldn't put 'blacks' on about it. But 'blacks' or no 'blacks,' you can +go to some other body to make them for you; for I want none of your +custom, and I'll be obliged to you to get from under my roof. This is a +decent, God-fearing house." + +Madame had left before the end of Griselda's orders; but she followed +her to the door, and delivered her last sentence as Madame was stepping +into her carriage. She was furious at the truths so uncompromisingly +told her, and still more so at the woman who had been their mouthpiece. +"A creature whom I have made! actually made!" she almost screamed. "She +would be out at service today but for me! The shameful, impertinent, +ungrateful wretch!" She ordered Thomas to drive her straight back +home, and, quivering with indignation, went to her son's room. He was +dressed, but lying prone upon his bed; his mother's complaining +irritated his mood beyond his endurance. He rose up in a passion; his +white haggard face showed how deeply sorrow and remorse had ploughed +into his very soul. + +"Mother!" he cried, "you will have to hear the truth, in one way or +another, from every one. I tell you myself that you are not guiltless +of Sophy's death--neither am I." + +"It is a lie." + +"Do go out of my room. This morning you are unbearable." + +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Are you going to permit people to +insult your mother, right and left, without a word? Have you no sense +of honour and decency?" + +"No, for I let them insult the sweetest wife ever a man had. I am a +brute, a monster, not fit to live. I wish I was lying by Sophy's side. +I am ashamed to look either men or women in the face." + +"You are simply delirious with the fever you have had." + +"Then have some mercy on me. I want to be quiet." + +"But I have been grossly insulted." + +"We shall have to get used to that, and bear it as we can. We deserve +all that can be said of us--or to us." Then he threw himself on his bed +again and refused to say another word. Madame scolded and complained +and pitied herself, and appealed to God and man against the wrongs she +suffered, and finally went into a paroxysm of hysterical weeping. But +Archie took no notice of the wordy tempest, so that Madame was +confounded and frightened, by an indifference so unusual and unnatural. + +Weeks of continual sulking or recrimination passed drearily away. +Archie, in the first tide of his remorse, fed himself on the miseries +which had driven Sophy to her grave. He interviewed the servants and +heard all they had to tell him. He had long conversations with Miss +Kilgour, and made her describe over and over Sophy's despairing look +and manner the morning she ran away. For the poor woman found a sort of +comfort in blaming herself and in receiving meekly the hard words +Archie could give her. He visited Mrs. Stirling in regard to Sophy's +sanity, and heard from that lady a truthful report of all that had +passed in her presence. He went frequently to Janet's cottage, and took +all her home thrusts and all her scornful words in a manner so humble, +so contrite, and so heart-broken, that the kind old woman began finally +to forgive and comfort him. And the outcome of all these interviews and +conversations Madame had to bear. Her son, in his great sorrow, threw +off entirely the yoke of her control. He found his own authority and +rather abused it. She had hoped the final catastrophe would draw him +closer to her; hoped the coolness of friends and acquaintances would +make him more dependent on her love and sympathy. It acted in the +opposite direction. The public seldom wants two scapegoats. Madame's +ostracism satisfied its idea of justice. Every one knew Archie was very +much under her control. Every one could see that he suffered dreadfully +after Sophy's death. Every one came promptly to the opinion that Madame +only was to blame in the matter. "The poor husband" shared the popular +sympathy with Sophy. + +However, in the long run, he had his penalty to pay, and the penalty +came, as was most just, through Marion Glamis. Madame quickly noticed +that after her loss of public respect, Marion's affection grew colder. +At the first, she listened to the tragedy of Sophy's illness and death +with a decent regard for Madame's feelings on the subject. When Madame +pooh-poohed the idea of Sophy being in an hospital for weeks, unknown, +Marion also thought it "most unlikely;" when Madame was "pretty sure +the girl had been in London during the hospital interlude," Marion also +thought, "it might be so; Captain Binnie was a very taking man." When +Madame said, "Sophy's whole conduct was only excusable on the +supposition of her unaccountability," Marion also thought "she did act +queerly at times." + +Even these admissions were not made with the warmth that Madame +expected from Marion, and they gradually grew fainter and more general. +She began to visit Braelands less and less frequently, and, when +reproached for her remissness, said, "Archie was now a widower, and she +did not wish people to think she was running after him;" and her manner +was so cold and conventional that Madame could only look at her in +amazement. She longed to remind her of their former conversations about +Archie, but the words died on her lips. Marion looked quite capable of +denying them, and she did not wish to quarrel with her only visitor. + +The truth was that Marion had her own designs regarding Archie, and she +did not intend Madame to interfere with them. She had made up her mind +to marry Braelands, but she was going to have him as the spoil of her +own weapons--not as a gift from his mother. And she was not so blinded +by hatred as to think Archie could ever be won by the abuse of Sophy. +On the contrary, she very cautiously began to talk of her with pity, +and even admiration. She fell into all Archie's opinions and moods on +the subject, and declared with warmth and positiveness that she had +always opposed Madame's extreme measures. In the long run, it came to +pass that Archie could talk comfortably with Marion about Sophy, for +she always reminded him of some little act of kindness to his wife, or +of some instance where he had decidedly taken her part, so that, +gradually, she taught him to believe that, after all, he had not been +so very much to blame. + +In these tactics, Miss Glamis was influenced by the most powerful of +motives--self-preservation. She had by no means escaped the public +censure, and in that set of society she most desired to please, had +been decidedly included in the polite ostracism meted out to Madame. +Lovers she had none, and she began to realise, when too late, that the +connection of her name with that of Archie Braelands had been a wrong +to her matrimonial prospects that it would be hard to remedy. In fact, +as the winter went on, she grew hopeless of undoing the odium generated +by her friendship with Madame and her flirtation with Madame's son. + +"And I shall make no more efforts at conciliation," she said angrily to +herself one day, after finding her name had been dropped from Lady +Blair's visiting-list; "I will now marry Archie. My fortune and his +combined will enable us to live where and how we please. Father must +speak to him on the subject at once." + +That night she happened to find the Admiral in an excellent mood for +her purpose. The Laird of Binin had not "changed hats" with him when +they met on the highway, and he fumed about the circumstance as if it +had been a mortal insult. + +"I'll never lift my hat to him again, Marion, let alone open my mouth," +he cried; "no, not even if we are sitting next to each other at the +club dinner. What wrong have I ever done him? Have I ever done him a +favour that he should insult me?" + +"It is that dreadful Braelands's business. That insolent, selfish, +domineering old woman has ruined us socially. I wish I had never seen +her face." + +"You seemed to be fond enough of her once." + +"I never liked her; I now detest her. The way she treated Archie's wife +was abominable. There is no doubt of that. Father, I am going to take +this situation by the horns of its dilemma. I intend to marry Archie. +No one in the county can afford to snub Braelands. He is popular and +likely to be more so; he is rich and influential, and I also am rich. +Together we may lead public opinion--or defy it. My name has been +injured by my friendship with him. Archie Braelands must give me his +name." + +"By St. Andrew, he shall!" answered the irritable old man. "I will see +he does. I ought to have considered this before, Marion. Why did you +not show me my duty?" + +"It is early enough; it is now only eight months since his wife died." + +The next morning as Archie was riding slowly along the highway, the +Admiral joined him. "Come home to lunch with me," he said, and Archie +turned his horse and went. Marion was particularly sympathetic and +charming. She subdued her spirits to his pitch; she took the greatest +interest in his new political aspirations; she listened to his plans +about the future with smiling approvals, until he said he was thinking +of going to the United States for a few months. He wished to study +Republicanism on its own ground, and to examine, in their working +conditions, several new farming implements and expedients that he +thought of introducing. Then Marion rose and left the room. She looked +at her father as she did so, and he understood her meaning. + +"Braelands," he said, when they were alone, "I have something to say +which you must take into your consideration before you leave Scotland. +It is about Marion." + +"Nothing ill with Marion, I hope?" + +"Nothing but what you can cure. She is suffering very much, socially, +from the constant association of her name with yours." + +"Sir?" + +"Allow me to explain. At the time of your sweet little wife's death, +Marion was constantly included in the blame laid to Madame Braelands. +You know now how unjustly." + +"I would rather not have that subject discussed." + +"But, by Heaven, it must be discussed! I have, at Marion's desire, said +nothing hitherto, because we both saw how much you were suffering; but, +sir, if you are going away from Fife, you must remember before you go +that the living have claims as well as the dead." + +"If Marion has any claim on me, I am here, willing to redeem it." + +"'If,' Braelands; it is not a question of 'if.' Marion's name has been +injured by its connection with your name. You know the remedy. I expect +you to behave like a gentleman in this matter." + +"You expect me to marry Marion?" + +"Precisely. There is no other effectual way to right her." + +"I see Marion in the garden; I will go and speak to her." + +"Do, my dear fellow. I should like this affair pleasantly settled." + +Marion was sitting on the stone bench round the sun dial. She had a +white silk parasol over her head, and her lap was full of +apple-blossoms. A pensive air softened her handsome face, and as Archie +approached, she looked up with a smile that was very attractive. He sat +down at her side and began to finger the pink and white flowers. He was +quite aware that he was tampering with his fate as well; but at his +very worst, Archie had a certain chivalry about women that only needed +to be stirred by a word or a look indicating injustice. He was not keen +to perceive; but when once his eyes were opened, he was very keen to +feel. + +"Marion," he said kindly, taking her hand in his, "have you suffered +much for my fault?" + +"I have suffered, Archie." + +"Why did you not tell me before?" + +"You have been so full of trouble. How could I add to it?" + +"You have been blamed?" + +"Yes, very much." + +"There is only one way to right you, Marion; I offer you my name and my +hand. Will you take it?" + +"A woman wants love. If I thought you could ever love me--" + +"We are good friends. You have been my comforter in many miserable +hours. I will make no foolish protestations; but you know whether you +can trust me. And that we should come to love one another very +sincerely is more than likely." + +"I _do_ love you. Have I not always loved you?" + +And this frank avowal was just the incentive Archie required. His heart +was hungry for love; he surrendered himself very easily to the charming +of affection. Before they returned to the house, the compact was made, +and Marion Glamis and Archibald Braelands were definitely betrothed. + +As Archie rode home in the gloaming, it astonished him a little to find +that he felt a positive satisfaction in the prospect of telling his +mother of his engagement--a satisfaction he did not analyze, but which +was doubtless compounded of a sense of justice, and of a not very +amiable conviction that the justice would not be more agreeable than +justice usually is. Indeed, the haste with which he threw himself from +his horse and strode into the Braelands's parlour, and the hardly +veiled air of defiance with which he muttered as he went "It's her own +doing; let her be satisfied with her work," showed a heart that had +accepted rather than chosen its destiny, and that rebelled a little +under the constraint. + +Madame was sitting alone in the waning light; her son had been away +from her all day, and had sent her no excuse for his detention. She was +both angry and sorrowful; and there had been a time when Archie would +have been all conciliation and regret. That time was past. His mother +had forfeited all his respect; there was nothing now between them but +that wondrous tie of motherhood which a child must be utterly devoid of +grace and feeling to forget. Archie never quite forgot it. In his worst +moods he would tell himself, "after all she is my mother. It was +because she loved me. Her inhumanity was really jealousy, and jealousy +is cruel as the grave." But this purely natural feeling lacked now all +the confidence of mutual respect and trust. It was only a natural +feeling; it had lost all the nobler qualities springing from a +spiritual and intellectual interpretation of their relationship. + +"You have been away all day, Archie," Madame complained. "I have been +most unhappy about you." + +"I have been doing some important business." + +"May I ask what it was?" + +"I have been wooing a wife." + +"And your first wife not eight months in her grave!" + +"It was unavoidable. I was in a manner forced to it." + +"Forced? The idea! Are you become a coward?" + +"Yes," he answered wearily; "anything before a fresh public discussion +of my poor Sophy's death." + +"Oh! Who is the lady?" + +"There is only one lady possible." + +"Marion Glamis?" + +"I thought you could say 'who'." + +"I hope to heaven you will never marry that woman! She is false from +head to foot. I would rather see another fisher-girl here than Marion +Glamis." + +"You yourself have made it impossible for me to marry any one but +Marion; though, believe me, if I could find another 'fisher-girl' like +Sophy, I would defy everything, and gladly and proudly marry her +to-morrow." + +"That is understood; you need not reiterate. I see through Miss Glamis +now, the deceitful, ungrateful creature!" + +"Mother, I am going to marry Miss Glamis. You must teach yourself to +speak respectfully of her." + +"I hate her worse than I hated Sophy. I am the most wretched of women;" +and her air of misery was so genuine and hopeless that it hurt Archie +very sensibly. + +"I am sorry," he said; "but you, and you only, are to blame. I have no +need to go over your plans and plots for this very end; I have no need +to remind you how you seasoned every hour of poor Sophy's life with +your regrets that Marion was _not_ my wife. These circumstances would +not have influenced me, but her name has been mixed up with mine and +smirched in the contact." + +"And you will make a woman with a 'smirched' name Mistress of +Braelands? Have you no family pride?" + +"I will wrong no woman, if I know it; that is my pride. If I wrong +them, I will right them. However, I give myself no credit about +righting Marion, her father made me do so." + +"My humiliation is complete, I shall die of shame." + +"Oh, no! You will do as I do--make the best of the affair. You can talk +of Marion's fortune and of her relationship to the Earl of Glamis, and +so on." + +"That nasty, bullying old man! And you to be frightened by him! It is +too shameful." + +"I was not frightened by him; but I have dragged one poor innocent +woman's name through the dust and dirt of public discussion, and, +before God, Mother, I would rather die than do the same wrong to +another. You know the Admiral's temper; once roused to action, he would +spare no one, not even his own daughter. It was then my duty to protect +her." + +"I have nursed a viper, and it has bitten me. To-night I feel as if the +bite would be fatal." + +"Marion is not a viper; she is only a woman bent on protecting herself. +However, I wish you would remember that she is to be your +daughter-in-law, and try and meet her on a pleasant basis. Any more +scandal about Braelands will compel me to shut up this house absolutely +and go abroad to live." + +The next day Madame put all her pride and hatred out of sight and went +to call on Marion with congratulations; but the girl was not deceived. +She gave her the conventional kiss, and said all that it was proper to +say; but Madame's overtures were not accepted. + +"It is only a flag of truce," thought Madame as she drove homeward, +"and after she is married to Archie, it will be war to the knife-hilt +between us. I can feel that, and I would not fear it if I was sure of +Archie. But alas, he is so changed! He is so changed!" + +Marion's thoughts were not more friendly, and she did not scruple to +express them in words to her father. "That dreadful old woman was here +this afternoon," she said. "She tried to flatter me; she tried to make +me believe she was glad I was going to marry Archie. What a consummate +old hypocrite she is! I wonder if she thinks I will live in the same +house with her?" + +"Of course she thinks so." + +"I will not. Archie and I have agreed to marry next Christmas. She will +move into her own house in time to hold her Christmas there." + +"I wouldn't insist on that, Marion. She has lived at Braelands nearly +all her life. The Dower House is but a wretched place after it. The +street in which it stands has become not only poor, but busy, and the +big garden that was round it when the home was settled on her was sold +in Archie's father's time, bit by bit, for shops and a preserving +factory. You cannot send her to the Dower House." + +"She cannot stay at Braelands. She charges the very air of any house +she is in with hatred and quarrelling. Every one knows she has saved +money; if she does not like the Dower House, she can go to Edinburgh, +or London, or anywhere she likes--the further away from Braelands, the +better." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE "LITTLE SOPHY" + + +Madame did not go to the Dower House. Archie was opposed to such a +humiliation of the proud woman, and a compromise was made by which she +was to occupy the house in Edinburgh which had been the Braelands's +residence during a great part of every winter. It was a handsome +dwelling, and Madame settled herself there in great splendour and +comfort; but she was a wretched woman in spite of her surroundings. She +had only unhappy memories of the past, she had no loving anticipations +for the future. She knew that her son was likely to be ruled by the +woman at his side, and she hoped nothing from Marion Glamis. The big +Edinburgh house with its heavy dark furniture, its shadowy draperies, +and its stately gloom, became a kind of death chamber in which she +slowly went to decay, body and soul. + +No one missed her much or long in Largo, and in Edinburgh she found it +impossible to gather round herself the company to which she had been +wont. Unpleasant rumours somehow clung to her name; no one said much +about her, but she was not popular. The fine dwelling in St. George's +Square had seen much gay company in its spacious rooms; but Madame +found it a hopeless task to re-assemble it. She felt this want of +favour keenly, though she need not have altogether blamed herself for +it, had she not been so inordinately conscious of her own personality. +For Archie had undoubtedly, in previous winters, been the great social +attraction. His fine manners, his good nature, his handsome appearance, +his wealth, and his importance as a matrimonial venture, had crowded +the receptions which Madame believed owed their success to her own tact +and influence. + +Gradually, however, the truth dawned upon her; and then, in utter +disgust, she retired from a world that hardly missed her, and which had +long only tolerated her for the accidents of her connections and +surroundings. Her disposition for saving grew into a passion; she +became miserly in the extreme, and punished herself night and day in +order that she might add continually to the pile of hoarded money which +Marion afterwards spent with a lavish prodigality. Occasionally her +thin, gray face, and her haggard figure wrapped in a black shawl, were +seen at the dusty windows of the room she occupied. The rest of the +house she closed. The windows were hoarded up and the doors padlocked, +and yet she lived in constant fear of attacks from thieves on her life +for her money. Finally she dismissed her only servant lest she might be +in league with such characters; and thus, haunted by terrors of all +kinds and by memories she could not destroy, she dragged on for twenty +years a life without hope and without love, and died at last with no +one but her lawyer and her physician at her side. She had sent for +Archie, but he was in Italy, and Marion she did not wish to see. Her +last words were uttered to herself. "I have had a poor life!" she +moaned with a desperate calmness that was her only expression of the +vast and terrible desolation of her heart and soul. + +"A poor life," said the lawyer, "and yet she has left twenty-six +thousand pounds to her son." + +"A poor life, and a most lonely flitting," reiterated her physician +with awe and sadness. + +However, she herself had no idea when she removed to Edinburgh of +leading so "poor a life." She expected to make her house the centre of +a certain grave set of her own class and age; she expected Archie to +visit her often; she expected to find many new interests to occupy her +feelings and thoughts. But she was too old to transplant. Sophy's death +and its attending circumstances had taken from her both personally and +socially more than she knew. Archie, after his marriage, led entirely +by Marion and her ways and desires, never went towards Edinburgh. The +wretched old lady soon began to feel herself utterly deserted; and when +her anger at this position had driven love out of her heart, she fell +an easy prey to the most sordid, miserable, and degrading of passions, +the hoarding of money. Nor was it until death opened her eyes that she +perceived she had had "a poor life." + +She began this Edinburgh phase of it under a great irritation. Knowing +that Archie would not marry until Christmas, and that after the +marriage he and Marion were going to London until the spring, she saw +no reason for her removal from Braelands until their return. Marion had +different plans. She induced Archie to sell off the old furniture, and +to redecorate and re-furnish Braelands from garret to cellar. It gave +Madame the first profound shock of her new life. The chairs and tables +she had used sold at auction to the tradespeople of Largo and the +farmers of the country-side! She could not understand how Archie could +endure the thought. Under her influence, he never would have endured +it; but Archie Braelands smiled on, and coaxed, and sweetly dictated by +Marion Glamis, was ready enough to do all that Marion wished. + +"Of course the old furniture must be sold," she said. "Why not? It will +help to buy the new. We don't keep our old gowns and coats; why then +our old chairs and tables?" + +"They have associations." + +"Nonsense, Archie! So has my white parasol. Shall I keep it in tissue +paper forever? Such sentimental ideas are awfully behind the times. +Your grandfather's coat and shoes will not dress you to-day; neither, +my dear, can his notions and sentiments direct you." + +So Braelands was turned, as the country people said, "out of the +windows," and Madame hastened away from the sight of such desecration. +It made Archie popular, however. The artisans found profitable work in +the big rooms, and the county families looked forward to the +entertainments they were to enjoy in the renovated mansion. It restored +Marion also to general estimation. There was a future before her now +which it would be pleasant to share, and every one considered that her +engagement to Archie exonerated her from all participation in Madame's +cruelty. "She has always declared herself innocent," said the +minister's wife, "and Braelands's marriage to her affirms it in the +most positive manner. Those who have been unjust to Miss Glamis have +now no excuse for their injustice." This authoritative declaration in +Marion's favour had such a decided effect that every invitation to her +marriage was accepted, and the ceremony, though purposely denuded of +everything likely to recall the tragedy now to be forgotten, was really +a very splendid private affair. + +On the Sabbath before it, Archie took in the early morning a walk to +the kirkyard at Pittendurie. He was going to bid Sophy a last farewell. +Henceforward he must try and prevent her memory troubling his life and +influencing his moods and motives. It was a cold, chilling morning, and +the great immensity of the ocean spread away to the occult shores of +the poles. The sky was grey and sombre, the sea cloudy and unquiet; and +far off on the eastern horizon, a mysterious portent was slowly rolling +onward. + +He crossed the stile and walked slowly forward. On his right hand there +was a large, newly-made grave with an oar standing upright at its head, +and some inscription rudely painted on it. His curiosity was aroused, +and he went closer to read the words: "_Be comforted! Alexander Murray +has prevailed_." The few words so full of hope and triumph, moved him +strangely. He remembered the fisherman Murray, whose victory over death +was so certainly announced; and his soul, disregarding all the +forbidding of priests and synods, instantly sent a prayer after the +departed conqueror. "Wherever he is," he thought, "surely he is closer +to Heaven than I am." + +He had been in the kirkyard often when none but God saw him, and his +feet knew well the road to Sophy's grave. There was a slender shaft of +white marble at the head, and Andrew Binnie stood looking at it. +Braelands walked forward till only the little green mound separated +them. Their eyes met and filled with tears. They clasped hands across +her grave and buried every sorrowful memory, every sense of wrong or +blame, in its depth and height. Andrew turned silently away; Braelands +remained there some minutes longer. The secret of that invisible +communion remained forever his own secret. Those only who have had +similar experiences know that souls who love each other may, and can, +exchange impressions across immensity. + +He found Andrew sitting on the stile, gazing thoughtfully over the sea +at the pale grey wall of inconceivable height which was drawing nearer +and nearer. "The fog is coming," he said, "we shall soon be going into +cloud after cloud of it." + +"They chilled and hurt her once. She is now beyond them." + +"She is in Heaven. God be thanked for His great mercy to her!" + +"If we only knew something _sure_. Where is Heaven? Who can tell?" + +"In Thy presence is fullness of joy, and at Thy right hand pleasures +forevermore. Where God is, there is Heaven." + +"Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard." + +"But God _hath_ revealed it; not a _future_ revelation, Braelands, but +a _present_ one." And then Andrew slowly, and with pauses full of +feeling and intelligence, went on to make clear to Braelands the +Present Helper in every time of need. He quoted mainly from the Bible, +his one source of all knowledge, and his words had the splendid +vagueness of the Hebrew, and lifted the mind into the illimitable. And +as they talked, the fog enveloped them, one drift after another passing +by in dim majesty, till the whole world seemed a spectacle of +desolation, and a breath of deadly chillness forced them to rise and +wrap their plaids closely round them. So they parted at the kirk yard +gate, and never, never again met in this world. + +Braelands turned his face towards Marion and a new life, and Andrew +went back to his ship with a new and splendid interest. It began in +wondering, "whether there was any good in a man abandoning himself to a +noble, but vain regret? Was there no better way to pay a tribute to the +beloved dead?" Braelands's costly monument did not realise his +conception of this possibility; but as he rowed back to his ship in the +gathering storm, a thought came into his mind with all the assertion of +a clang of steel, and he cried out to his Inner Man. + +"_That_, oh my soul, is what I will do; _that_ is what will keep my +love's name living and lovely in the hearts of her people." + +His project was not one to be accomplished without much labour and +self-denial. It would require a great deal of money, and he would have +to save with conscientious care many years to compass his desire, which +was to build a Mission Ship for the deep sea fishermen Twelve years he +worked and saved, and then the ship was built; a strong steam-launch, +able to buffet and bear the North Sea when its waves were running wild +over everything. She was provided with all appliances for religious +comfort and teaching; she had medicines for the sick and surgical help +for the wounded; she carried every necessary protection against the +agonising "sea blisters" which torture the fishermen in the winter +season. And this vessel of many comforts was called the "Sophy Traill." + +She is still busy about her work of mercy. Many other Mission Ships now +traverse the great fishing-fleets of the North Sea, and carry hope and +comfort to the fishermen who people its grey, wild waters; but none is +so well beloved by them as the "Little Sophy." When the boats lie at +their nets on a summer's night, it is on the "Little Sophy" that "Rock +of Ages" is started and then taken up by the whole fleet. And when the +stormy winds of winter blow great guns, then the "Little Sophy," flying +her bright colours in the daytime and showing her many lights at night, +is always rolling about among the boats, blowing her whistle to tell +them she is near by, or sending off help in her lifeboat, or steaming +after a smack in distress. + +Fifteen years after Andrew and Archie parted at the kirkyard, Archie +came to the knowledge first of Andrew's living monument to the girl +they had both loved so much. He was coming from Norway in a yacht with +a few friends, and they were caught in a heavy, easterly gale. In a few +hours there was a tremendous sea, and the wind rapidly rose to a +hurricane. The "Little Sophy" steamed after the helpless craft and got +as near to her as possible; but as she lowered her lifeboat, she saw +the yacht stagger, stop, and then founder. The tops of her masts seemed +to meet, she had broken her back, and the seas flew sheer over her. + +The lifeboat picked up three men from her, and one of them was Archie +Braelands. He was all but dead from exposure and buffeting; but the +surgeon of the Mission Ship brought him back to life. + +It was some hours after he had been taken on board; the storm had gone +away northward as the sun set. There was the sound of an organ and of +psalm-singing in his ears, and yet he knew that he was in a ship on a +tossing sea, and he opened his eyes, and asked weakly: + +"Where am I?" + +The surgeon stooped to him and answered in a cheery voice: "_On the +'Sophy Traill!'_" + +A cry, shrill as that of a fainting woman, parted Archie's lips, and he +kept muttering in a half-delirious stupor all night long, "_The Sophy +Traill! The Sophy Traill!_" In a few days he recovered strength and was +able to leave the boat which had been his salvation; but in those few +days he heard and saw much that greatly influenced for the noblest ends +his future life. + +All through the borders of Fife, people talked of Archie's strange +deliverance by this particular ship, and the old story was told over +again in a far gentler spirit. Time had softened ill-feeling, and +Archie's career was touched with the virtue of the tenderly remembered +dead. + +"He was but a thoughtless creature before he lost wee Sophy," Janet +said, as she discussed the matter; "and now, where will you find a +better or a busier man? Fife's proud of him, and Scotland's proud of +him, and if England hasn't the sense of discerning _who_ she ought to +make a Prime Minister of, that isn't Braelands's fault." + +"For all that," said Christina, sitting among her boys and girls, +"Sophy ought to have married Andrew. She would have been alive to-day +if she had." + +"You aren't always an oracle, Christina, and you have a deal to learn +yet; but I'm not saying but what poor Sophy did make a mistake in her +marriage. Folks should marry in their own class, and in their own +faith, and among their own folk, or else ninety-nine times out of a +hundred they marry sorrow; but I'm not so sure that being alive to-day +would have been a miracle of pleasure and good fortune. If she had had +bairns, as ill to bring up and as noisy and fashious as yours are, she +is well spared the trouble of them." + +"You have spoiled the bairns yourself, Mother. If I ever check or scold +them, you are aye sure to take their part." + +"Because you never know when a bairn is to blame and when its mother is +to blame. I forgot to teach you that lesson." + +Christina laughed and said something about it "being a grand thing +Andrew had no lads and lasses," and then Janet held, her head up +proudly, and said with an air of severe admonition: + +"It's well enough for you and the like of you to have lads and lasses; +but my boy Andrew has a duty far beyond it, he has the 'Sophy Traill' +to victual and store, and send out to save souls and bodies." + +"Lads and lasses aren't bad things, Mother." + +"They'll be all the better for the 'Sophy Traill' and the other boats +like her. That laddie o' yours that will be off to sea whether you like +it or not, will give you many a fear and heartache. Andrew's 'boat of +blessing' goes where she is bid to go, and does as she is told to do. +That's the difference." + +Difference or not, his "boat of blessing" was Andrew's joy and pride. +She had been his salvation, inasmuch as she had consecrated that +passion for hoarding money which was the weak side of his character. +She had given to his dead love a gracious memory in the hearts of +thousands, and "a name far better than that of sons and daughters." + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Night of the Nets, by Amelia E. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: A Knight of the Nets + +Author: Amelia E. Barr + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9374] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on September 26, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A KNIGHT OF THE NETS *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed Proofreaders. +This file was produced from images generously made available by the +Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions. + + + + +A KNIGHT OF THE NETS + +BY + +AMELIA E. BARR + + +1896 + + + + +CONTENTS. + +CHAPTER + + +I THE WORLD SHE LIVED IN. + +II CHRISTINA AND ANDREW. + +III THE AILING HEART. + +IV THE LASH OF THE WHIP. + +V THE LOST BRIDE. + +VI WHERE IS MY MONEY? + +VII THE BEGINNING OF THE END. + +VIII A GREAT DELIVERANCE. + +IX THE RIGHTING OF A WRONG. + +X TAKE ME IN TO DIE. + +XI DRIVEN TO HIS DUTY. + +XII AMONG HER OWN PEOPLE. + +XIII THE "LITTLE SOPHY". + + + +_Grey sky, brown waters: as a bird that flies + My heart flits forth to these; +Back to the winter rose of Northern skies, + Back to the Northern seas_. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE WORLD SHE LIVED IN + + +It would be easy to walk many a time through "Fife and all the lands +about it" and never once find the little fishing village of +Pittendurie. Indeed, it would be a singular thing if it was found, +unless some special business or direction led to it. For clearly it was +never intended that human beings should build homes where these +cottages cling together, between sea and sky,--a few here, and a few +there, hidden away in every bend of the rocks where a little ground +could be levelled, so that the tides in stormy weather break with +threat and fury on the very doorstones of the lowest cottages. Yet as +the lofty semicircle of hills bend inward, the sea follows; and there +is a fair harbour, where the fishing boats ride together while their +sails dry in the afternoon sun. Then the hamlet is very still; for the +men are sleeping off the weariness of their night work, while the +children play quietly among the tangle, and the women mend the nets or +bait the lines for the next fishing. A lonely little spot, shut in by +sea and land, and yet life is there in all its passionate variety--love +and hate, jealousy and avarice, youth, with its ideal sorrows and +infinite expectations, age, with its memories and regrets, and "sure +and certain hope." + +The cottages also have their individualities. Although they are much of +the same size and pattern, an observing eye would have picked out the +Binnie cottage as distinctive and prepossessing. Its outside walls were +as white as lime could make them; its small windows brightened with +geraniums and a white muslin curtain; and the litter of ropes and nets +and drying fish which encumbered the majority of thatches, was +pleasantly absent. Standing on a little level, thirty feet above the +shingle, it faced the open sea, and was constantly filled with the +confused tones of its sighing surges, and penetrated by its pulsating, +tremendous vitality. + +It had been the home of many generations of Binnies, and the very old, +and the very young, had usually shared its comforts together; but at +the time of my story, there remained of the family only the widow of +the last proprietor, her son Andrew, and her daughter Christina. +Christina was twenty years old, and still unmarried,--a strange thing +in Pittendurie, where early marriages are the rule. Some said she was +vain of her beauty and could find no lad whom she thought good enough; +others thought she was a selfish, cold-hearted girl, feared for the +cares and the labours of a fisherman's wife. + +On this July afternoon, the girl had been some hours mending the pile +of nets at her feet; but at length they were in perfect order, and she +threw her arms upward and outward to relieve their weariness, and then +went to the open door. The tide was coming in, but the children were +still paddling in the salt pools and on the cold bladder rack, and she +stepped forward to the edge of the cliff, and threw them some wild +geranium and ragwort. Then she stood motionless in the bright sunlight, +looking down the shingle towards the pier and the little tavern, from +which came, in drowsy tones, the rough monotonous songs which seamen +delight to sing--songs, full of the complaining of the sea, interpreted +by the hoarse, melancholy voices of sea faring men. + +Standing thus in the clear light, her great beauty was not to be +denied. She was tall and not too slender; and at this moment, the set +of her head was like that of a thoroughbred horse, when it pricks its +ears to listen. She had soft brown eyes, with long lashes and heavy +eyebrows--eyes, reflecting the lances of light that darted in and out +of the shifting clouds--an open air complexion, dazzling, even teeth, +an abundance of dark, rippling hair, and a flush of ardent life opening +her wide nostrils, and stirring gently the exquisite mould of her +throat and bust. The moral impression she gave was that of a pure, +strong, compassionate woman; cool-headed, but not cold; capable of +vigorous joys and griefs. + +After a few minutes' investigation, she went back to the cottage, and +stood in the open doorway, with her head leaning against the lintel. +Her mother had begun to prepare the evening meal; fresh fish were +frying on the fire, and the oat cakes toasting before it. Yet, as she +moved rapidly about, she was watching her daughter and very soon she +gave words to the thoughts troubling and perplexing her motherly +speculations. + +"Christina," she said, "you'll not require to be looking for Andrew. +The lad is ben the house; he has been asleep ever since he eat his +dinner." + +"I know that, Mother." + +"Well then, if it is Jamie Logan, let me tell you it is a poor +business. I have a fear and an inward down-sinking anent that young +man." + +"Perfect nonsense, Mother! There is nothing to fear you about Jamie." + +"What good ever came through folk saved from the sea? Tell me that, +Christina! They bring sorrow back with them. That is a fact none will +deny." + +"What could Andrew do but save the lad?" + +"Why was the lad running before such a sea? He should have got into +harbour; there was time enough. And if it was Andrew's duty to save +him, it is not your duty to be loving him. You may take that much sense +from me, anyway." + +"_Whist, Mother_! He has not said a word of love to me." + +"He perfectly changes colours every time he sees you, and why so, if it +be not for love of you? I am not liking the look of the thing, +Christina, and your brother is not liking it; and if you don't take +care of yourself, you'll be in a burning fever of first love, and +beyond all reasoning. Even now, you are making yourself a speculation +to the whole village." + +"Jamie is a straight-forward lad. I'm thinking he would lay his life +down for me." + +"I thought he had not said a word of love to you." + +"A girl knows some things that are not told her." + +"Very fine; but it will not be the fashion now to lie down and die for +Annie Laurie, or any other lass. A young man who wants a wife must +bustle around and get siller to keep her with. Getting married, these +days is not a thing to make a song about. You are but a young thing +yet, Christina, and you have much to learn." + +"Would you not like to be young again, Mother?" + +"No, I would not! I would not risk it. Besides, it would be going back; +and I want to go forward and upward. But you need not try to turn the +talk from Jamie Logan that way. I'll say again what I said before, you +will be in a fever of first love, and not to be reasoned with, if you +don't take care of yourself." + +The girl flushed hotly, came into the house, and began to re-arrange +the teacups with a nervous haste; for she heard Jamie's steps on the +rocky road, and his voice, clear as a blackbird's, whistling gayly "In +the Bay of Biscay O!" + +"The teacups are all right, Christina. I am talking anent Jamie Logan. +The lad is just a temptation to you; and you will require to ask for +strength to be kept out of temptation; for the Lord knows, the best of +us don't expect strength to resist it." + +Christina turned her face to her mother, and then left her answer to +Jamie Logan. For he came in at the moment with a little tartan shawl in +his hand, which he gallantly threw across the shoulders of Mistress +Binnie. + +"I have just bought it from a peddler loon," he said. "It is bonnie and +soft, and it sets you well, and I hope you will pleasure me by wearing +it." + +His face was so bright, his manner so charming, that it was impossible +for Janet Binnie to resist him. "You are a fleeching, flattering +laddie," she answered; but she stroked and fingered the gay kerchief, +while Christina made her observe how bright were the colours of it, and +how neatly the soft folds fell around her. Then the door of the inner +room opened, and Andrew came sleepily out. + +"The fish is burning," he said, "and the oat cakes too; for I am +smelling them ben the house;" and Janet ran to her fireside, and +hastily turned her herring and cakes. + +"I'm feared you won't think much of your meat to-night," she said +regretfully; "the tea is fairly ruined." + +"Never mind the meat, Mother," said Andrew. "We don't live to eat." + +"Never mind the meat, indeed! What perfect nonsense! There is something +wrong with folk that don't mind their meat." + +"Well then, you shouldn't be so vain of yourself, Mother. You were +preening like a young girl when I first got sight of you--and the meat +taking care of itself." + +"Me, vain! No! No! Nobody that knows Janet Binnie can ever say she is +vain. I wot well that I am a frail, miserable creature, with little +need of being vain, either for myself or my children. You are a great +hand at arguing, Andrew, but you are always in the wrong. But draw to +the table and eat. I'll warrant the fish will prove better than it is +bonnie." + +They sat down with a pleasant content that soon broadened into mirth +and laughter, as Jamie Logan began to tell and to show how the peddler +lad had fleeched and flethered the fisher wives out of their bawbees; +adding at the last "that he could not come within sight of their fine +words, they were that civil to him." + +"Senselessly civil, no doubt of it," answered Janet. "A peddler aye +gives the whole village a fit of the liberalities. The like of Jean +Robertson spending a crown on him! Foolish woman, the words are not to +seek that she'll get from me in the morning." + +Then Jamie took a letter from his pocket, and showed it to Andrew +Binnie. "Robert Toddy brought it this morning," he said, "and, as you +may see, it is from the firm of Henderson Brothers, Glasgow; and they +say there will be a berth for me very soon now in one of their ships. +And their boats are good, and their captains good, and there is chances +for a fine sailor on that line. I may be a captain myself one of these +days!" and he laughed so gayly, and looked so bravely into the face of +such a bold idea, that he persuaded every one else to expect it for +him. Janet pulled her new shawl a little closer and smiled, and her +thought was: "After all, Christina may wait longer, and fare worse; for +she is turned twenty." Yet she showed a little reserve as she asked:-- + +"Are you then Glasgow-born, Jamie?" + +"Me! Glasgow-born! What are you thinking of? I am from the auld East +Neuk; and I am glad and proud of being a Fifer. All my common sense +comes from Fife. There is none loves the 'Kingdom' more than I, Jamie +Logan. We are all Fife together. I thought you knew it." + +At these words there was a momentary shadow across the door, and a +little lassie slipped in; and when she did so, all put down their cups +to welcome her. Andrew reddened to the roots of his hair, his eyes +filled with light, a tender smile softened his firm mouth, and he put +out his hand and drew the girl to the chair which Christina had pushed +close to his own. + +"You are welcome, and more than welcome, Sophy," said the Mistress; but +for all that, she gave Sophy a glance in which there was much +speculation not unmixed, with fear and disapproval. For it was easy to +see that Andrew Binnie loved her, and that she was not at all like him, +nor yet like any of the fisher-girls of Pittendurie. Sophy, however, +was not responsible for this difference; for early orphanage had placed +her in the care of an aunt who carried on a dress and bonnet making +business in Largo, and she had turned the little fisher-maid into a +girl after her own heart and wishes. + +Sophy, indeed, came frequently to visit her people in Pittendurie; but +she had gradually grown less and less like them, and there was no +wonder Mistress Binnie asked herself fearfully, "what kind of a wife at +all Sophy would make for a Fife fisherman?" She was so small and genty, +she had such a lovely face, such fair rippling hair, and her gown was +of blue muslin made in the fashion of the day, and finished with a lace +collar round her throat, and a ribbon belt round her slender waist. + +"A bonnie lass for a carriage and pair," thought Janet Binnie; "but +whatever will she do with the creel and the nets? not to speak of the +bairns and the housework?" + +Andrew was too much in love to consider these questions. When he was +six years old, he had carried Sophy in his arms all day long; when he +was twelve, they had paddled on the sands, and fished, and played, and +learned their lessons together. She had promised then to be his wife as +soon as he had a house and a boat of his own; and never for one moment +since had Andrew doubted the validity and certainty of this promise. To +Andrew, and to Andrew's family, and to the whole village of +Pittendurie, the marriage of Andrew Binnie and Sophy Traill was a fact +beyond disputing. Some said "it was the right thing," and more said "it +was the foolish thing," and among the latter was Andrew's mother; +though as yet she had said it very cautiously to Andrew, whom she +regarded as "clean daft and senselessly touchy about the girl." + +But she sent the young people out of the house while she redd up the +disorder made by the evening meal; though, as she wiped her teacups, +she went frequently to the little window, and looked at the four +sitting together on the bit of turf which carpeted the top of the cliff +before the cottage. Andrew, as a privileged lover, held Sophy's hand; +Christina sat next her brother, and facing Jamie Logan, so it was easy +to see how her face kindled, and her manner softened to the charm of +his merry conversation, his snatches of breezy sea-song, and his clever +bits of mimicry. And as Janet walked to and fro, setting her cups and +plates in the rack, and putting in place the tables and chairs she did +what we might all do more frequently and be the wiser for it--she +talked to herself, to the real woman within her, and thus got to the +bottom of things. + +In less than an hour there began to be a movement about the pier, and +then Andrew and Jamie went away to their night's work; and the girls +sat still and watched the men across the level sands, and the boats +hurrying out to the fishing grounds. Then they went back to the +cottage, and found that Mistress Binnie had taken her knitting and gone +to chat with a crony who lived higher up the cliff. + +"We are alone, Sophy" said Christina; "but women folk are often that." +She spoke a little sadly, the sweet melancholy of conscious, but +unacknowledged love being heavy in her heart, and she would not have +been sorry, had she been quite alone with her vaguely happy dreams. +Neither of the girls was inclined to talk, but Christina wondered at +Sophy's silence, for she had been unusually merry while the young men +were present. + +Now she sat quiet on the door step, clasping her left knee with little +white hands that had no sign of labour on them but the mark of the +needle on the left forefinger. At her side, Christina stood, her tall +straight figure fittingly clad in a striped blue and white linsey +petticoat, and a little josey of lilac print, cut low enough to show +the white, firm throat above it. Her fine face radiated thought and +feeling; she was on the verge of that experience which glorifies the +simplest life. The exquisite glooming, the tender sky, the full heaving +sea, were all in sweetest sympathy; they were sufficient; and Sophy's +thin, fretful voice broke the charm and almost offended her. + +"It is a weary life, Christina. How do you thole it?" + +"You are just talking, Sophy. You were happy enough half an hour +since." + +"I wasn't happy at all." + +"You let on like you were. I should think you would be as fear'd to act +a lie, as to tell one." + +"I'll be going away from Pittendurie in the morning." + +"What for?" + +"I have my reasons." + +"No doubt you have a 'because' of your own. But what will Andrew say? +He is not expecting you to leave to-morrow." + +"I don't care what Andrew says." + +"Sophy Traill!" + +"I don't. Andrew Binnie is not the whole of life to me." + +"Whatever is the matter with you?" + +"Nothing." + +Then there was a pause, and Christina's thoughts flew seaward. In a few +minutes, however, Sophy began talking again. "Do you go often into +Largo, Christina?" she asked. + +"Whiles, I take myself that far. You may count me up for the last year; +for I sought you every time." + +"Ay! Do you mind on the road a real grand house, fine and old, with a +beautiful garden and peacocks in it--trailing their long feathers over +the grass and gravel?" + +"You will be meaning Braelands? Folks could not miss the place, even if +they tried to." + +"Well then, did you ever notice a young man around? He is always +dressed for the saddle, or else he is in the saddle, and so most sure +to have a whip in his hand." + +"What are you talking about? What is the young man to you?" + +"He is brawly handsome. They call him Archie Braelands." + +"I have heard tell of him. And by what is said, I should not think he +was an improving friend for any good girl to have." + +"This, or that, he likes me. He likes me beyond everything." + +"Do you know what you are saying, Sophy Traill?" + +"I do, fine." + +"Are you liking him?" + +"It would not be hard to do." + +"Has he ever spoke to you?" + +"Well, he is not as shy as a fisher-lad. I find him in my way when I'm +not thinking. And see here, Christina; I got a letter from him this +afternoon. A real love letter! Such lovely words! They are like poetry; +they are as sweet as singing." + +"Did you tell Andrew this?" + +"Why would I do that?" + +"You are a false little cutty, then. I would tell Andrew myself, but I +am loath to hurt his true heart. Now you are to let Archie Braelands +alone, or I will know the reason why." + +"Preserve us all! What a blazing passion for nothing at all! Can't a +lassie chat with a lad for a half hour without calling a court of +sessions about it?" and she rose and shook out her dress, saying with +an air of offence:-- + +"You may tell Andrew, if you like to. It would be a very poor thing if +a girl is to be miscalled every time a man told her she was pretty." + +"I'm not saying any woman can help men making fools of themselves; but +you should have told Braelands that you were all the same as married, +being promised so long to Andrew Binnie. And you ought to have told +Andrew about the letter." + +"Everybody can't live in Pittendurie, Christina. And if you live with a +town full of folk, you cannot go up and down, saying to every man you +meet, 'please, sir, I have a lad of my own, and you are not to cast a +look at me, for Andrew Binnie would not like it." + +"Hold your tongue, Sophy, or else know what you are yattering about. I +would think shame to talk so scornful of the man I was going to marry." + +"You can let it go for a passing remark. And if I have said anything to +vex you, we are old friends, Christina, and it is not a lad that will +part us. Sophy requires a deal of forgiving." + +"She does," said Christina with a smile; "so I just forgive her as I go +along, for she is still doing something out of the way. But you must +not treat Andrew ill. I could not love you, Sophy, if you did the like +of that. And you must always tell me everything about yourself, and +then nothing will go far wrong." + +"Even that. I am not given to lying unless it is worth my while. I'll +tell you aught there is to tell. And there is a kiss for Andrew, and +you may say to him that I would have told him I was going back to Largo +in the morning, only that I cannot bear to see him unhappy. That a +message to set him on the mast-head of pride and pleasure." + +"I will give Andrew the kiss and the message, Sophy. And you take my +advice, and keep yourself clear of that young Braelands. I am +particular about my own good name, and I mean to be particular about +yours." + +"I have had your advice already, Christina." + +"Well, this is a forgetful world, so I just mention the fact again." + +"All the same, you might remember, Christina, that there was once a +woman who got rich by minding her own business;" and with a laugh, the +girl tied her bonnet under her chin, and went swiftly down the cliff +towards the village. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +CHRISTINA AND ANDREW + + +This confidence greatly troubled Christina; and as Sophy crossed the +sands and vanished into the shadows beyond, a strange, sad presentiment +of calamity oppressed her heart. Being herself in the enthusiasm of a +first love, she could not conceive such treachery possible as Sophy's +word seemed to imply. The girl had always been petted, and yet +discontented with her situation; and had often made complaints which +had no real foundation, and which in brighter moods she was likely to +repudiate. And this night Andrew, instead of her Aunt Kilgour, was the +object of her dissatisfaction--that would be all. To-morrow she would +be complaining to Andrew of her aunt's hard treatment of her, and +Andrew would be whispering of future happiness in her ears. + +Upon the whole, therefore, Christina thought it would be cruel and +foolish to tell her brother a word of what Sophy had said. Why should +she disturb his serene faith in the girl so dear to him, until there +was some more evident reason to do so? He was, as his mother said, +"very touchy" about Sophy, being well aware that the village did not +approve of the changes in her dress, and of those little reluctances +and reserves in her behaviour, which had sprung up inevitably amid the +refinements and wider acquaintances of town life. + +"And so many things happen as the clock goes round," she thought. +"Braelands may say or do something that will put him out of favour. Or +he may take himself off to a foreign country--he is gey fond of France +and Germany too--and Goodness knows he will never be missed in +Fifeshire. Or _them behind_ may sort what flesh and blood cannot +manage; so I will keep a close mouth anent the matter. One may think +what one dare not say; for words, once spoken, cannot be wiped out with +a sponge--and more's the pity!" + +Christina had also reached a crisis in her own life,--a crisis so +important, that it quite excused the apparent readiness with which she +dismissed Sophy's strange confidence. For the feeling between Jamie +Logan and herself had grown to expression, and she was well aware that +what had hitherto been in a large measure secret and private to +themselves, had this night become evident to others. And she was not +sure how Jamie would be received. Andrew had saved his life in a sudden +storm, and brought him to the Binnie cottage until he should be able to +return to his own place. But instead of going away, he had hired his +time for the herring season to a Pittendurie fisherman; and every spare +hour had found him at the Binnie cottage, wooing the handsome +Christina. + +The village was not unanimously in his favour. No one could say +anything against Jamie Logan; but he was a stranger, and that fact was +hard to get over. A man must serve a very strict and long probation to +be adopted into a Fife fishing community, and it was considered "very +upsetting" for an unkent man to be looking up to the like of Christina +Binnie,--a lass whose forbears had been in Pittendurie beyond the +memory or the tradition of its inhabitants. + +Janet also was not quite satisfied; and Christina knew this. She +expected her daughter to marry a fisherman, but at least one who owned +his share in a good boat, and who had a house to take a wife to. This +strange lad was handsome and good-tempered; but, as she reflected, and +not unfrequently said, "good looks and a laugh and a song, are not +things to lippen to for housekeeping." So, on the whole, Christina had +just the same doubts and anxieties as might trouble a fine lady of +family and wealth, who had fallen in love with some handsome fellow +whom her relatives were uncertain about favouring. + +A week after Sophy's visit, however, Jamie found the unconquerable hour +in which every true love comes to its blossoming. It was the Sabbath +night, and a great peace was over the village. The men sat at their +doors talking in monosyllables to their wives and mates; the children +were asleep; and the full ocean breaking and tinkling upon the shingly +coast. They had been at kirk together in the afternoon, and Jamie had +taken tea with the Binnies after the service. Then Andrew had gone to +see Sophy, and Janet to help a neighbour with a sick husband; so Jamie, +left with Christina, had seized gladly his opportunity to teach her the +secret of her own heart. + +Sitting on the lonely rocks, with the moonlit sea at their feet, they +had confessed to each other how sweet it was to love. And the plans +growing out of this confession, though humble enough, were full of +strange hope and happy dreaming to Christina. For Jamie had begged her +to become his wife as soon as he got his promised berth on the great +Scotch line, and this event would compel her to leave Pittendurie and +make her home in Glasgow,--two facts, simply stupendous to the +fisher-girl, who had never been twenty miles from her home, and to whom +all life outside the elementary customs of Pittendurie was wonderful +and a little frightsome. + +But she put her hand in Jamie's hand, and felt his love sufficient for +whatever love might bring or demand. Any spot on earth would be heaven +to her with him, and for him; and she told him so, and was answered as +women love to be answered, with a kiss that was the sweetness and +confidence of all vows and promises. Among these simple, +straight-forward people, there are no secrecies in love affairs; and +the first thing Jamie did was to return to the cottage with Christina +to make known the engagement they had entered into. + +They met Andrew on the sands. He had been disappointed. Sophy had gone +out with a friend, and her aunt had seemed annoyed and had not asked +him to wait. He was counting up in his mind how often this thing had +happened lately, and was conscious of an unhappy sense of doubt and +unkindness which was entirely new to him. But when Christina stepped to +his side, and Jamie said frankly, "Andrew, your dear sweet sister loves +me, and has promised to be my wife, and I hope you will give us the +love and favour we are seeking," Andrew looked tenderly into his +sister's face, and their smiles met and seemed to kiss each other. And +he took her hand between his own hands, and then put it into Jamie's. + +"You shall be a brother to me, Jamie," he said; "and we will stand +together always, for the sake of our bonnie Christina." And Jamie could +not speak for happiness; but the three went forward with shining eyes +and linked hands, and Andrew forgot his own fret and disappointment, in +the joy of his sister's betrothal. + +Janet came home as they sat in the moonlight outside the cottage. "Come +into the house," she cried, with a pretense of anger. "It is high time +for folk who have honest work for the morn to be sleeping. What hour +will you get to the week's work, I wonder, Christina? If I leave the +fireside for a minute or two, everything stops but daffing till I get +back again. What for are you sitting so late?" + +"There is a good reason, Mother!" said Andrew, as he rose and with +Jamie and Christina went into the cottage. "Here is our Christina been +trysting herself to Jamie, and I have been giving them some good +advice." + +"Good advice!" laughed Janet. "Between you and Jamie Logan, it is the +blind leading the blind, and nothing better. One would think there was +no other duty in life than trysting and marrying. I have just heard +tell of Flora Thompson and George Buchan, and now it is Christina +Binnie and Jamie Logan. The world is given up, I think, to this weary +lad and lass business." + +But Janet's words belied her voice and her benign face. She was really +one of those delightful women who are "easily persuaded," and who +readily accept whatever is, as right. For she had naturally one of the +healthiest of human souls; besides which, years had brought her that +tender sagacity and gentleness, which does not often come until the +head is gray and the brow furrowed. So, though her words were fretful, +they were negatived by her beaming smile, and by the motherly fashion +in which she drew Christina to her side and held out her hand to Jamie. + +"You are a pair of foolish bairns," she said; "and you little know what +will betide you both." + +"Nothing but love and happiness, Mother," answered Jamie. + +"Well, well! look for good, and have good. I will not be one to ask +after evil for you. But mind one thing, Jamie, you are marrying a +woman, and not an angel. And, Christina, if you trust to any man, don't +expect over much of him; the very best of them will stumble once in a +while." + +Then she drew forward the table, and put on the kettle and brewed some +toddy, and set it out with toasted cake and cheese, and so drank, with +cheerful moderation, to the health and happiness of the newly-promised +lovers. And afterwards "the books" were opened, and Andrew, who was the +priest of the family, asked the blessing of the Infinite One on all its +relationships. Then the happiness that had been full of smiles and +words became too deep for such expression, and they clasped hands and +kissed each other "good night" in a silence, that was too sweetly +solemn and full of feeling for the translation of mere language. + +Before the morning light, Mistress Binnie had fully persuaded herself +that Christina was going to make an unusually prosperous marriage. All +her doubts had fled. Jamie had spoken out like a man, he had the best +of prospects, and the wedding was likely to be something beyond a +simple fisherman's bridal. She could hardly wait until the day's work +was over, and the evening far enough advanced for a gossiping call on +her crony, Marget Roy. Last night she had fancied Marget told her of +Flora Thompson's betrothal with an air of pity for Christina; there was +now a delightful retaliation in her power. But she put on an expression +of dignified resignation, rather than one of pleasure, when she made +known the fact of Christina's approaching marriage. + +"I am glad to hear tell of it," said Marget frankly. "Christina will +make a good wife, and she will keep a tidy house, I'll warrant her." + +"She will, Marget. And it is a very important thing; far more so than +folks sometimes think. You may put godliness into a woman after she is +a wife, but you can not put cleanliness; it will have to be born in +her." + +"And so Jamie Logan is to have a berth from the Hendersons? That is far +beyond a place in Lowrie's herring boats." + +"I'm thinking he just stopped with Lowrie for the sake of being near-by +to Christina. A lad like him need not have spent good time like that." + +"Well, Janet, it is a good thing for your Christina, and I am glad of +it." + +"It is;" answered Janet, with a sigh and a smile. "The lad is sure to +get on; and he's a respectable lad--a Fifer from Kirkcaldy--handsome +and well-spoken of; and I am thinking the _Line_ has a big bargain in +him, and is proud of it. Still, I'm feared for my lassie, in such an +awful, big, wicked-like town as Glasgow." + +"She'll not require to take the whole town in. She will have her Bible, +and her kirk, and her own man. There is nothing to fear you. Christina +has her five senses." + +"No doubt. And she is to have a floor of her own and all things +convenient; so there is comfort and safety in the like of that." + +"What for are you worrying yourself then?" + +"There's contingencies, Marget,--contingencies. And you know Christina +is my one lassie, and I am sore to lose her. But 'lack a day! we cannot +stop the clock. And marriage is like death--it is what we must all come +to." + +"Well Janet, your Christina has been long spared from it. She'll be +past twenty, I'm thinking." + +"Christina has had her offers, Marget. But what will you? We must all +wait for the right man, or go to the de'il with the wrong one." + +Thus the conversation went on, until Janet had exhausted all the +advantages and possibilities that were incident to Christina's good +fortune. And perhaps it was out of a little feeling of weariness of the +theme, that Marget finally reminded her friend that she would be +"lonely enough wanting her daughter," adding, "I was hearing too, that +Andrew is not to be kept single much longer; and it will be what no one +expects if Sophy Traill ever fills Christina's shoes." + +"Sophy is well enough," answered Janet with a touch of pride. "She +suits Andrew, and it is Andrew that has to live with her." + +"And you too, Janet?" + +"Not I! Andrew is to build his own bigging. I have the life rent of +mine. But I shall be a deal in Glasgow myself. Jamie has his heart +fairly set on that." + +She made this statement with an air of prideful satisfaction that was +irritating to Mistress Roy; and she was not inclined to let Janet enter +anew into a description of all the fine sights she was to see, the +grand guns of preachers she was to hear, and the trips to Greenock and +Rothesay, which Jamie said "would just fall naturally in the way of +their ordinary life." So Marget showed such a hurry about her household +affairs as made Janet uncomfortable, and she rose with a little offence +and said abruptly:-- + +"I must be going. I have the kirkyard to pass; and between the day and +the dark it is but a mournful spot" + +"It is that," answered Marget. "Folks should not be on the road when +the bodiless walk. They might be in their way, and so get ill to +themselves." + +"Then good night, and good befall you;" but in spite of the +benediction, Janet felt nettled at her friend's sudden lack of +interest. + +"It was a spat of envy no doubt," she thought; "but Lord's sake! envy +is the most insinuating vice of the lot of them. It cannot behave +itself for an hour at a time. But I'm not caring! it is better to be +envied than pitied." + +These reflections kept away the thought and fear of the "bodiless," and +she passed the kirkyard without being mindful of their proximity; the +coming wedding, and the inevitable changes it would bring, filling her +heart with all kinds of maternal anxieties, which in solitude would not +be put aside for all the promised pride and _eclat_ of the event. As +she approached the cottage, she met Jamie and Christina coming down the +cliff-side together, and she cried, "Is that you, Jamie?" + +"As far as I know, it's myself, Mother," answered Jamie. + +"Then turn back, and I'll get you a mouthful of bread and cheese. +You'll be wanting it, no doubt; for love is but cold porridge to a man +that has to pull on the nets all night." + +"You have spoken the day after the fair, Mother," answered Jamie. +"Christina has looked well to me, and I am bound for the boats." + +"Well, well, your way be it." + +Then Christina turned back with her mother, and they went silently back +to the cottage, their hearts being busy with the new hopes and +happiness that had come into their hitherto uneventful lives. But +reticence between this mother and daughter was not long possible; they +were too much one to have reserves; and neither being sleepy, they soon +began to talk over again what they had discussed a hundred times +before--the wedding dress, and the wedding feast, and the napery and +plenishing Christina was to have for her own home. They sat on the +hearth, before the bit of fire which was always necessary in that +exposed and windy situation; but the door stood open, and the moon +filled the little room with its placid and confidential light. So it is +no wonder, as they sat talking and vaguely wondering at Andrew's +absence, Christina should tell her mother what Sophy had said about +Archie Braelands. + +Janet listened with a dour face. For a moment she was glad; then she +lifted the poker, and struck a block of coal into a score of pieces, +and with the blow scattered the unkind, selfish thoughts which had +sprung up in her heart. + +"It is what I expected," she answered. "Just what I expected, +Christina. A lassie dressed up in muslin, and ribbons, and artificial +roses, isn't the kind of a wife a fisherman wants--and sooner or +later, like goes to like. I am not blaming Sophy. She has tried hard to +be faithful to Andrew, but what then? Nothing happens for nothing; and +it will be a good thing for Andrew if Sophy leaves him; a good thing +for Sophy too, I'm thinking; and better _is_ better, whatever comes or +goes." + +"But Andrew will fret himself sorely." + +"He will; no doubt of that. But Andrew has a good heart, and a good +heart breaks bad fortune. Say nothing at all to him. He is wise enough +to guide himself; though God knows! even the wisest of men will have a +fool in his sleeve sometimes." + +"Would there be any good in a word of warning? Just to prepare him for +the sorrow that is on the road." + +"There would be no sense in the like of it. If Andrew is to get the +fling and the buffet, he will take it better from Sophy than from any +other body. Let be, Christina. And maybe things will take a turn for +the dear lad yet. Hope for it anyhow. Hope is as cheap as despair." + +"Folks will be talking anon." + +"They are talking already. Do you think that I did not hear all this +clash and clavers before? Lucky Sims, and Marget Roy, and every +fish-wife in Pittendurie, know both the beginning and the end of it. +They have seen this, and they have heard that, and they think the very +worst that can be; you may be sure of that." + +"I'm thinking no wrong of Sophy." + +"Nor I. The first calamity is to be born a woman; it sets the door open +for every other sorrow--and the more so, if the poor lassie is bonnie +and alone in the world. Sophy is not to blame; it is Andrew that is in +the fault." + +"How can you say such a thing as that, Mother?" + +"I'll tell you how. Andrew has been that set on having a house for his +wife, that he has just lost the wife while he was saving the siller for +the house. I have told him, and better told him to bring Sophy here; +but nothing but having her all to himself will he hear tell of. It is +pure, wicked selfishness in the lad! He simply cannot thole her to give +look or word to any one but himself. Perfect scand'lous selfishness! +That is where all the trouble has come from." + +"_Whist, Mother_! He is most at the doorstep. That is Andrew's foot, or +I am much mista'en." + +"Then I'll away to Lizzie Robertson's for an hour. My heart is knocking +at my lips, and I'll be saying what I would give my last bawbee to +unsay. Keep a calm sough, Christina." + +"You need not tell me that, Mother." + +"Just let Andrew do the talking, and you'll be all right. It is easy to +put him out about Sophy, and then to come to words. Better keep peace +than make peace." + +She lifted the stocking she was knitting, and passed out of one door as +Andrew came in at the other. He entered with that air of strength and +capability so dear to the women of a household. He had on his kirk +suit, and Christina thought, as he sat down by the open window, how +much handsomer he looked in his blue guernsey and fishing cap. + +"You'll be needing a mouthful and a cup of tea, Andrew?" she asked. + +Andrew shook his head and answered pleasantly, "Not I, Christina. I had +my tea with Sophy. Where is mother?" + +"She is gone to Lizzie Robertson's for an hour. Her man is yet very +badly off. She said she would sit with him till the night turned. +Lizzie is most worn out, I'm sure, by this time." + +"Where is Jamie?" + +"He said he was going to the fishing. He will have caught his boat, or +he would have been back here again by this hour." + +"Then we are alone? And like to be for an hour? eh, Christina?" + +"There will be no one here till mother comes at the turn of the night. +What for are you asking the like of them questions, Andrew?" + +"Because I have been seeking this hour. I have things to tell you, +Christina, that must never go beyond yourself; no, not even to mother, +unless the time comes for it. I am not going to ask you to give me your +word or promise. You are Christina Binnie, and that is enough." + +"I should say so. The man or woman who promises with an oath is not to +be trusted. There is you and me, and God for our witness. What ever you +have to say, the hearer and the witness is sufficient." + +"I know that. Christina, I have been this day to Edinburgh, and I have +brought home from the bank six hundred pounds." + +"Six hundred pounds, Andrew! It is not believable." + +"_Whist, woman!_ I have six hundred pounds in my breast pocket, and I +have siller in the house beside. I have sold my share in the +'_Sure-Giver_,' and I have been saving money ever since I put on my +first sea-boots." + +"I have always thought that saving money was your great fault, Andrew." + +"I know. I know it myself only too well. Many's the Sabbath day I have +been only a bawbee Christian, when I ought to have put a shilling in +the plate. But I just could not help it." + +"Yes, you could." + +"Tell me how, then." + +"Just try and believe that you are putting your collection into the +hand of God Almighty, and not into a siller plate. Then you will put +the shilling down and not the bawbee." + +"Perhaps. The thought is not a new one to me, and often I have forced +myself to give a white shilling instead of a penny-bit at the kirk +door, just to get the better of the de'il once in a while. But for all +that I know right well that saving siller is my besetting sin. However, +I have been saving for a purpose, and now I am most ready to take the +desire of my heart." + +"It is a good desire; I am sure of that, Andrew." + +"I think it is; a very good one. What do you say to this? I am going to +put all my siller in a carrying steamer--one of the Red-White fleet. +And more to it. I am to be skipper, and sail her from the North Sea to +London." + +"Will she be a big boat, Andrew?" + +"She will carry three thousand 'trunks' of fish in her ice chambers. +What do you think of that?" + +"I am perfectly dazzled and dumbfoundered with the thought of it. You +will be a man of some weight in the world, when that comes to pass." + +"I will be Captain Binnie, of the North Sea fleet, and Sophy will have +reason enough for her muslins, and ribbons, and trinkum-trankums--God +bless her!" + +"You are a far forecasting man, Andrew." + +"I have been able to clear my day and my way, by the help of +Providence, so far," said Andrew, with a pious reservation; "just as my +decent kirk-going father was before me. But that is neither here nor +there, and please God, this will be a monumental year in my life." + +"It will that. To get the ship and the wife you want, within its twelve +bounds, is a blessing beyond ordinary. I am proud to hear tell of such +good fortune coming your way, Andrew." + +"Ay; I knew you would. But I have the siller, and I have the skill, and +why shouldn't I lift myself a bit?" + +"And Sophy with you? Sophy will be an ornament to any place you lift +her to. And you may come to own a fishing fleet yourself some day, +Andrew!" + +"I am thinking of it," he answered, with the air of a man who feels +himself master of his destiny. "But come ben the house with me, +Christina. I have something to show you." + +So they went together into an inner room, and Andrew moved aside a +heavy chest of drawers which stood against the wall. Then he lifted a +short plank beneath them, and putting his arm far under the flooring, +he pulled forth a tin box. + +The key to it was in the leather purse in his breast pocket, and there +was a little tantalizing delay in its opening. But when the lid was +lifted, Christina saw a hoard of golden sovereigns, and a large roll of +Bank of England bills. Without a word Andrew added the money in his +pocket to this treasured store, and in an equal silence the flooring +and drawers were replaced, and then, without a word, the brother and +sister left the room together. + +There was however a look of exultation on Christina's face, and when +Andrew said "You understand now, Christina?" she answered in a voice +full of tender pride. + +"I have seen. And I am sure that Andrew Binnie is not the man to be +moving without knowing the way he is going to take." + +"I am not moving at all, Christina, for three months or perhaps longer. +The ship I want is in dry dock until the winter, and it is all this +wealth of siller that I am anxious about. If I should go to the fishing +some night, and never come back, it would be the same as if it went to +the bottom of the sea with me, not a soul but myself knowing it was +there." + +"But not now, Andrew. You be to tell me what I am to do if the like of +that should happen, and your wish will be as the law of God to me." + +"I am sure of that, Christina. Take heed then. If I should go out some +night and the sea should get me, as it gets many better men, then you +will lift the flooring, and take the money out of hiding. And you will +give Sophy Traill one half of all there is. The other half is for +mother and yourself. And you will do no other way with a single bawbee, +or the Lord will set His face against it." + +"I will do just what you tell me." + +"I know it. To think different, would be just incredible nonsense. That +is for the possibilities, Christina. For the days that are coming and +going, I charge you, Christina Binnie, never to name to mortal creature +the whereabouts of the money I have shown you." + +"Your words are in my heart, Andrew. They will never pass my lips." + +"Then that is enough of the siller. I have had a happy day with Sophy, +and O the grace of the lassie! And the sweet innocence and lovesomeness +of her pretty ways! She is budding into a very rose of beauty! I bought +her a ring with a shining stone in it, and a gold brooch, and a bonnie +piece of white muslin with the lace for the trimming of it; and the joy +of the little beauty set me laughing with delight. I would not call the +Queen my cousin, this night." + +"Sophy ought to love you with all her heart and soul, Andrew." + +"She does. She has arled her heart and hand to me. I thank _The Best_ +for this great mercy." + +"And you can trust her without a doubt, dear lad?" + +"I have as much faith in Sophy Traill, as I have in my Bible." + +"That is the way to trust. It is the way I trust Jamie. But you'll mind +how ready bad hearts and ill tongues are to give you a sense of +suspicion. So you'll not heed a word of that kind, Andrew?" + +"Not one. The like of such folk cannot give me a moment's +trouble--there was Kirsty Johnston--" + +"You may put Kirsty Johnston, and all she says to the wall." + +"I'm doing it; but she called after me this very evening, 'take care of +yourself, Andrew Binnie.' 'And what for, Mistress?' I asked. 'A beauty +is hard to catch and worse to keep,' she answered; and then the laugh +of her! But I didn't mind it, not I; and I didn't give her word or look +in reply; for well I know that women's tongues cannot be stopped, not +even by the Fourth Commandment." + +Then Andrew sat down and was silent, for a happiness like his is felt, +and not expressed. And Christina moved softly about, preparing the +frugal supper, and thinking about her lover in the fishing boats, +until, the table being spread, Andrew drew his chair close to his +sister's chair, and spreading forth his hands ere he sat down, said +solemnly;-- + +_"This is the change of Thy Right Hand, O Thou Most High! Thou art +strong to strengthen; gracious to help; ready to better; mighty to +save, Amen!"_ + +It was the prayer of his fathers for centuries--the prayer they had +used in all times of their joy and sorrow; the prayer that had grown in +his own heart from his birth, and been recorded for ever in the sagas +of his mother's people. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE AILING HEART + + +Not often in her life had Christina felt so happy as she did at this +fortunate hour. Two things especially made her heart sing for joy; one +was the fact that Jamie had never been so tender, so full of joyful +anticipation, so proud of his love and his future, as in their +interview of that evening. The very thought of his beauty and goodness +made her walk unconsciously to the door, and look over the sea towards +the fishing-grounds, where he was doubtless working at the nets, and +thinking of her. And next to this intensely personal cause of +happiness, was the fact that of all his mates, and even before his +mother or Sophy, Andrew had chosen _her_ for his confidant. She loved +her brother very much, and she respected him with an equal fervour. Few +men, in Christina's opinion, were able to stand in Andrew Binnie's +shoes, and she felt, as she glanced at his strong, thoughtful face, +that he was a brother to be very proud of. + +He sat on the hearth with his arms crossed above his head, and a sweet, +grave smile irradiating his strong countenance, Christina knew that he +was thinking of Sophy, and as soon as she had spread the frugal meal, +and they had sat down to their cakes and cheese, Andrew began to talk +of her. He seemed to have dismissed absolutely the thought of the +hidden money, and to be wholly occupied with memories of his love. And +as he talked of her, his face grew vivid and tender, and he spoke like +a poet, though he knew it not. + +"She is that sweet, Christina, it is like kissing roses to kiss her. +Her wee white hand on my red face is like a lily leaf. I saw it in the +looking-glass, as we sat at tea. And the ring, with the shining stone, +set it finely. I am the happiest man in the world, Christina!" + +"I am glad with all my heart for you, Andrew, and for Sophy too. It is +a grand thing to be loved as you love her." + +"She is the sweetness of all the years that are gone, and of all that +are to come." + +"And Sophy loves you as you love her? I hope she does that, my dear +Andrew." + +"She will do. She will do! no doubt of it, Christina! She is shy now, +and a bit frighted at the thought of marriage--she is such a gentle +little thing--but I will make her love me; yes I will! I will make her +love me as I love her. What for not?" + +"To be sure. Love must give and take equal, to be satisfied. I know +that myself. I am loving Jamie just as he loves me." + +"He is a brawly fine lad. Peddie was saying there wasn't a better +worker, nor a merrier one, in the whole fleet." + +"A good heart is always a merry one, Andrew." + +"I'm not doubting it." + +Thus they talked with kind mutual sympathy and confidence; and a +certain sweet serenity and glad composure spread through the little +room, and the very atmosphere was full of the peace and hope of +innocent love. But some divine necessity of life ever joins joy and +sorrow together; and even as the brother and sister sat speaking of +their happiness, Christina heard a footstep that gave her heart a +shock. Andrew was talking of Sophy, and he was not conscious of Jamie's +approach until the lad entered the house. His face was flushed, and +there was an air of excitement about him which Andrew regarded with an +instant displeasure and suspicion. He did not answer Jamie's greeting, +but said dourly:-- + +"You promised to take my place in the boat to-night, Jamie Logan; then +what for are you here, at this hour? I see one thing, and that is, you +cannot be trusted to." + +"I deserve a reproof, Andrew, for I have earned it," answered Jamie; +and there was an air of candid regret in his manner which struck +Christina, but which was not obvious to Andrew as he added, "I'll not +lie to you, anent the matter." + +"You needn't. Nothing in life is worth a lie." + +"That may be, or not be. But it was just this way. I met an old friend +as I was on my way to the boat, and he was poor, and hungry, and +thirsty, and I be to take him to the 'public,' and give him a bite and +a sup. Then the whiskey set us talking of old times and old +acquaintances, and I clean forgot the fishing; and the boats went away +without me. And that is all there is to it." + +"Far too much! Far too much! A nice lad you will be to trust to in a +big ship full of men and women and children! A glass of whiskey, and a +crack in the public house, set before your promised word and your duty! +How will I trust Christina to you? When you make Andrew Binnie a +promise, he expects you to keep it. Don't forget that! It may be of +some consequence to you if you are wanting his sister for a wife." + +With these words Andrew rose, went into his own room without a word of +good-night, and with considerable show of annoyance, closed and bolted +the door behind him. Jamie sat down by Christina, and waited for her to +speak. + +But it was not easy for her to do so. Try as she would, she could not +show him the love she really felt. She was troubled at his neglect of +duty, and so sorry that he, of all others, should have been the one to +cast the first shadow across the bright future which she had been +anticipating before his ill-timed arrival. It was love out of time and +season, and lacked the savour and spontaneity which are the result of +proper conditions. Jamie felt the unhappy atmosphere, and was offended. + +"I'm not wanted here, it seems," he said in a tone of injury. + +"You are wanted in the boat, Jamie; that is where the fault lies. You +should have been there. There is no outgait from that fact." + +"Well then, I have said I was sorry. Is not that enough?" + +"For me, yes. But Andrew likes a man to be prompt and sure in business. +It is the only way to make money." + +"Make money! I can make money among Andrew Binnie's feet, for all he +thinks so much of himself. A friend's claims are before money-making. +I'll stand to that, till all the seas go dry." + +"Andrew has very strict ideas; you must have found that out, Jamie, and +you should not go against them." + +"Andrew is headstrong as the north-wind. He goes clear o'er the bounds +both sides. Everything is the very worst, or the very best. I'm not +denying I was a bit wrong; but I consider I had a good excuse for it." + +"Is there ever a good excuse for doing wrong, Jamie? But we will let +the affair drop out of mind and talk. There are pleasanter things to +speak of, I'm sure." + +But the interview was a disappointment. Jamie went continually back to +Andrew's reproof, and Christina herself seemed to be under a spell. She +could not find the gentle words that would have soothed her lover, her +manner became chill and silent; and Jamie finally went away, much hurt +and offended. Yet she followed him to the door, and watched him kicking +the stones out of his path as he went rapidly down the cliff-side. And +if she had been near enough, she would have heard him muttering +angrily:-- + +"I'm not caring! I'm not caring! The moral pride of they Binnies is +ridic'lus! One would require to be a very saint to come within sight of +them." + +Such a wretched ending to an evening that had begun with so much hope +and love! Christina stood sadly at the open door and watched her lover +across the lonely sands, and felt the natural disappointment of the +circumstances. Then the moon began to rise, and when she noticed this, +she remembered how late her mother was away from home, and a slight +uneasiness crept into her heart. She threw a plaid around her head, and +was going to the neighbour's where she expected to find her, when Janet +appeared. + +She came up to the cliff slowly, and her face was far graver than +ordinary when she entered the cottage, and with a pious ejaculation +threw off her shawl. + +"What kept you at all, Mother? I was just going to seek you." + +"Watty Robertson has won away at last." + +"When did he die?" + +"He went away with the tide. He was called just at the turn. Ah, +Christina, it is loving and dying all the time! Life is love and death; +for what is our life? It is even a vapour that appeareth for a little +time, and then vanisheth away." + +"But Watty was well ready for the change, Mother?" + +"He went away with a smile. And I staid by poor Lizzie, for I have +drank of the same cup, and I know how bitter was the taste of it. Old +Elspeth McDonald stretched the corpse, and her and I had a change of +words; but Lizzie was with me." + +"What for did you clash at such a like time?" + +"She covered up his face, and I said: 'Stop your hand, Elspeth. Don't +you go to cover Watty's face now. He never did ill to any one while he +lived, and there's no need to hide his face when he is dead.' And we +had a bit stramash about it, for I can't abide to hide up the face that +is honest and well loved, and Lizzie said I was right, and so Elspeth +went off in a tiff." + +"I think there must be 'tiffs' floating about in the air to-night. +Jamie and Andrew have had a falling out, and Jamie went away far less +than pleased with me." + +"What's to do between them?" + +"Jamie met with an old friend who was hungry and thirsty, and he went +with him to the 'public' instead of going to the boat for Andrew, as he +promised to do. You know how Andrew feels about a word broken." + +"_Toots_! Andrew Binnie has a deal to learn yet. You should have told +him it was better to show mercy, than to stick at a mouthful of words. +Had you never a soft answer to throw at the two fractious fools?" + +"How could I interfere?" + +"Finely! If you don't know the right way to throw with a thrawn man, +like Andrew, and to come round a soft man, like Jamie, I'm sorry for +you! A woman with a thimble-full of woman-wit could ravel them both +up--ravel them up like a cut of worsteds." + +"Well, the day is near over. The clock will chap twelve in ten minutes, +and I'm going to my bed. I'm feared you won't sleep much, Mother. You +look awake to your instep." + +"Never mind. I have some good thoughts for the sleepless. Folks don't +sleep well after seeing a man with wife and bairns round him look death +and judgment in the face." + +"But Watty looked at them smiling, you said?" + +"He did. Watty's religion went to the bottom and extremity of things. +I'll be asking this night for grace to live with, and then I'll get +grace to die with when my hour comes. You needn't fash your heart about +me. Sleeping or waking, I am in His charge. Nor about Jamie; he'll be +all right the morn. Nor about Andrew, for I'll tell him not to make a +Pharisee of himself--he has his own failing, and it isn't far to seek." + +And it is likely Janet had her intended talk with her son, for nothing +more was said to Jamie about his neglect of duty; and the little cloud +was but a passing one, and soon blew over. Circumstances favoured +oblivion. Christina's love encompassed both her brother and her lover, +and Janet's womanly tact turned every shadow into sunshine, and +disarmed all suspicious or doubtful words. Also, the fishing season was +an unusually good one; every man was of price, and few men were better +worth their price than Jamie Logan. So an air of prosperity and +happiness filled each little cottage, and Andrew Binnie was certainly +saving money--a condition of affairs that always made him easy to live +with. + +As for the women of the village, they were in the early day up to their +shoulders in work, and in the more leisurely evenings, they had +Christina's marriage and marriage presents to talk about. The girl had +many friends and relatives far and near, and every one remembered her. +It was a set of china from an aunt in Crail, or napery from some +cousins in Kirkcaldy, or quilts from her father's folk in Largo, and so +on, in a very charming monotony. Now and then a bit of silver came, and +once a very pretty American clock. And there was not a quilt or a +tablecloth, a bit of china or silver, a petticoat or a ribbon, that the +whole village did not examine, and discuss, and offer their +congratulations over. + +Christina and her mother quite enjoyed this popular manifestation of +interest, and Jamie was not at all averse to the good-natured +familiarity. And though Andrew withdrew from such occasions, and +appeared to be rather annoyed than pleased by the frequent intrusion of +strange women, neither Janet nor Christina heeded his attitude very +much. + +"What for would we be caring?" queried the mother. "There is just one +woman in the world to Andrew. If it was Sophy's wedding-presents now, +he would be in a wonder over them! But he is not wanting you to marry +at all, Christina. Men are a selfish lot. Somehow, I think he has taken +a doubt or a dislike to Jamie. He thinks he isn't good enough for you." + +"He is as good as I want him. I'm feared for men as particular as +Andrew. They are whiles gey ill to live with. Andrew has not had a +smile for a body for a long time, and he has been making money. I +wonder if there is aught wrong between Sophy and himself." + +"You might away to Largo and ask after the girl. She hasn't been here +in a good while. And I'm thinking yonder talk she had with you anent +Archie Braelands wasn't all out of her own head." + +So that afternoon Christina put on her kirk dress, and went to Largo to +see Sophy. Her walk took her over a lonely stretch of country, though, +as she left the coast, she came to a lovely land of meadows, with here +and there waving plantations of young spruce or fir trees. Passing the +entrance to one of these sheltered spots, she saw a servant driving +leisurely back and forward a stylish dog-cart; and she had a sudden +intuition that it belonged to Braelands. She looked keenly into the +green shadows, but saw no trace of any human being; yet she had not +gone far, ere she was aware of light footsteps hurrying behind her, and +before she could realise the fact, Sophy called her in a breathless, +fretful way "to wait a minute for her." The girl came up flushed and +angry-looking, and asked Christina, "whatever brought her that far?" + +"I was going to Largo to see you. Mother was getting worried about you. +It's long since you were near us." "I am glad I met you. For I was +wearied with the sewing to-day, and I asked Aunt to let me have a +holiday to go and see you; and now we can go home together, and she +will never know the differ. You must not tell her but what I have been +to Pittendurie. My goodness! It is lucky I met you." + +"But where have you been, Sophy?" + +"I have been with a friend, who gave me a long drive." + +"Who would that be?" + +"Never you mind. There is nothing wrong to it. You may trust me for +that, Christina. I was fairly worn out, and Aunt hasn't a morsel of +pity. She thinks I ought to be glad to sew from Monday morning to +Saturday night, and I tell you it hurts me, and gives me a cough, and I +had to get a breath of sea-air or die for it. So a friend gave me what +I wanted." + +"But if you had come to our house, you could have got the sea-air +finely. Sophy! Sophy! I am misdoubting what you tell me. How came you +in the wood?" + +"We were taking a bit walk by ourselves there. I love the smell of the +pines, and the peace, and the silence. It rests me; and I didn't want +folks spying, and talking, and going with tales to Aunt. She ties me up +shorter than needs be now." + +"He was a mean fellow to leave you here all by yourself." + +"I made him do it. Goodness knows, he is fain enough to be seen by high +and low with me. But Andrew would not like it; he is that +jealous-natured--and I just _be_ to have some rest and fresh air." + +"Andrew would gladly give you both." + +"Not he! He is away to the fishing, or about his business, one way or +another, all the time. And I am that weary of stitch, stitch, +stitching, I could cry at the thought of it." + +"Was it Archie Braelands that gave you the drive?" + +"Ay, it was. Archie is just my friend, nothing more. I have told him, +and better told him, that I am to marry Andrew." + +"He is a scoundrel then to take you out." + +"He is nothing of the kind. He is just a friend. I am doing Andrew no +wrong, and myself a deal of good." + +"Then why are you feared for people seeing you?" + +"I am not feared. But I don't want to be the wonder and the talk of +every idle body. And I am not able to bear my aunt's nag, nag, nag at +me. I wish I was married. It isn't right of Andrew to leave me so much +to myself. It will be his own fault if he loses me altogether. I am +worn out with Aunt Kilgour, and my life is a fair weariness to me." + +"Andrew is getting everything brawly ready for you. I wish I could tell +you what grand plans he has for your happiness. Be true to Andrew, +Sophy, and you will be the happiest bride, and the best loved wife in +all Scotland." + +"Plans! What plans? What has he told you?" + +"I am not free to speak, Sophy. I should not have said a word at all. I +hope you will just forget I have." + +"Indeed I will not! I will make Andrew tell me his plans. Why should he +tell you, and not me? It is a shame to treat me that way, and he shall +hear tell of it." + +"Sophy! Sophy! I would as lief you killed me as told Andrew I had given +you a hint of his doings. He would never forgive me. I can no forgive +myself. Oh what a foolish, wicked woman I have been to say a word to +you!" and Christina burst into passionate weeping. + +"_Whist_! Christina; I'll never tell him, not I! I know well you +slipped the words to pleasure me. But giff-gaff makes us good friends, +and so you must just walk to the door with me and pass a word with my +aunt, and say neither this nor that about me, and I will forget you +ever said Andrew had such a thing as a 'plan' about me." + +The proposal was not to Christina's mind, but she was ready to face any +contingency rather than let Andrew know she had given the slightest +hint of his intentions. She understood what joy he had in the thought +of telling his great news to Sophy at its full time, and how angry he +would naturally feel at any one who interfered with his designs. In a +moment, without intention, with the very kindest of motives, she had +broken her word to her brother, and she was as miserable as a woman +could be over the unhappy slip. And Sophy's proposal added to her +remorse. It made her virtually connive at Sophy's intercourse with +Archie Braelands, and she felt herself to be in a great strait. In +order to favour her brother she had spoken hastily, and the swift +punishment of her folly was that she must now either confess her fault +or tacitly sanction a wrong against him. + +For the present, she could see no way out of the difficulty. To tell +Andrew would be to make him suspicious on every point. He would then +doubtless find some other hiding place for his money, and if any +accident did happen, her mother, and Sophy, and all Andrew loved, would +suffer for her indiscretion. She took Sophy's reiterated promise, and +then walked with the girl to her aunt's house. It was a neat stone +dwelling, with some bonnets and caps in the front window, and when the +door was opened, a bell rang, and Mistress Kilgour came hastily from an +inner room. She looked pleased when she saw Sophy and Christina, and +said:-- + +"Come in, Christina. I am glad you brought Sophy home in such good +time. For I'm in a state of perfect frustration this afternoon. Here's +a bride gown and bonnet to make, and a sound of more work coming." + +"Who is to be married, Miss Kilgour?" + +"Madame Kilrin of Silverhawes--a second affair, Christina, and she more +than middle-aged." + +"She is rich, though?" + +"That's it! rich, but made up of odds and ends, and but one eye to see +with: a prelatic woman, too, seeking all things her own way." + +"And the man? Who is he?" + +"He is a lawyer. Them gentry have their fingers in every pie, hot or +cold. However, I'm wishing them nothing but good. Madame is a constant +customer. Come, come, Christina, you are not going already?" + +"I am hurried to-night. Mistress Kilgour. Mother is alone. Andrew is +away to Greenock on business." + +"So you came back with Sophy. I am glad you did. There are some folks +that are o'er ready to take charge of the girl, and some that seem to +think she can take charge of herself. Oh, she knows fine what I mean!" +And Miss Kilgour pointed her fore-finger at Sophy and shook her head +until all the flowers in her cap and all the ringlets on her front hair +dangled in unison. + +Sophy had turned suddenly sulky and made no reply, and Miss Kilgour +continued: "It is her way always, when she has been to your house, +Christina. Whatever do you say to her? Is there anything agec between +Andrew and herself? Last week and the week before, she came back from +Pittendurie in a temper no saint could live with." + +"I'm so miserable. Aunt. I am miserable every hour of my life." + +"And you wouldn't be happy unless you were miserable, Sophy. Don't mind +her talk, Christina. Young things in love don't know what they want." + +"I am sick, Aunt." + +"You are in love, Sophy, and that is all there is to it. Don't go, +Christina. Have a cup of tea first?" + +"I cannot stop any longer. Good-bye, Sophy. I'll tell Andrew to come +and give you a walk to-morrow. Shall I?" + +"If you like to. He will not come until Sunday, though; and then he +will be troubled about walking on the Sabbath day. I'm not caring to go +out." + +"That is a lie, Sophy Traill!" cried her aunt. "It is the only thing +you do care about." + +"You had better go home, Christina," said Sophy, with a sarcastic +smile, "or you will be getting a share of temper that does not belong +to you. I am well used to it." + +Christina made an effort to consider this remark as a joke, and under +this cover took her leave. She was thankful to be alone with herself. +Her thoughts and feelings were in a tumult; she could not bring any +kind of reason out of their chaos. Her chagrin at her own folly was +sharp and bitter. It made her cry out against herself as she trod +rapidly her homeward road. Almost inadvertently, because it was the +shortest and most usual way, she took the route that led her past +Braelands. The great house was thrown open, and on the lawns was a +crowd of handsomely dressed men and women, drinking tea at little +tables set under the trees and among the shrubbery. Christina merely +glanced at the brave show of shifting colour, and passed more quickly +onward, the murmur of conversation and the ripple of laughter pursuing +her a little way, for the evening was warm and quiet. + +She thought of Sophy among this gay crowd, and felt the incongruity of +the situation, and a sense of anger sprung up in her breast at the +girl's wicked impatience and unfaithfulness. It had caused her also to +err, for she had been tempted by it to speak words which had been a +violation of her own promise, and yet which had really done no good. + +"She was always one of those girls that led others into trouble," she +reflected. "Many a scolding she has got me when I was a wee thing, and +to think that now! with the promise to Andrew warm on my lips, I have +put myself in her power! It is too bad! It is not believable!" + +She was glad when she came within sight of the sea; it was like a +glimpse of home. The damp, fresh wind with its strong flavour of brine +put heart into her, and the few sailors and fishers she met, with their +sweethearts on their arms and their blue shirts open at their throats, +had all a merry word or two to say to her. When she reached her home, +she found Andrew sitting at a little table looking over some papers +full of strange marks and columns of figures. His quick glance, and the +quiet assurance of his love contained in it, went sorely to her heart. +She would have fallen at his feet and confessed her unadvised admission +to Sophy gladly, but she doubted, whether it would be the kindest and +wisest thing to do. + +And then Janet joined them, and she had any number of questions to ask +about Sophy, and Christina, to escape being pressed on this subject, +began to talk with forced interest of Madame Kilrin's marriage. So, +between this and that, the evening got over without suspicion, and +Christina carried her miserable sense of disloyalty to bed and to sleep +with her--literally to sleep, for she dreamed all night of the +circumstance, and awakened in the morning with a heart as heavy as +lead. + +"But it is just what I deserve!" she said crossly to herself, as she +laced her shoes, "what need had I to be caring about Sophy Traill and +her whims? She is a dissatisfied lass at the best, and her love affairs +are beyond my sorting. Serves you right, Christina Binnie! You might +know, if anybody might, that they who put their oar into another's boat +are sure to get their fingers rapped. They deserve it too." + +However, Christina could not willingly dwell long on sorrowful +subjects. She was always inclined to subdue trouble swiftly, or else to +shake it away from her. For she lived by intuition, rather than by +reason; and intuition is born of, and fed by, home affection and devout +religion. Something too of that insight which changes faith into +knowledge, and which is the birthright of primitive natures, was hers, +and she divined, she knew not how, that Sophy would be true to her +promise, and not say a word which would lead Andrew to doubt her. And +so far she was right. Sophy had many faults, but the idea of breaking +her contract with Christina did not even occur to her. + +She wondered what plans Andrew had, and what good surprise he was +preparing for her, but she was in no special hurry to find it out. The +knowledge might bring affairs to a permanent crisis between her and +Andrew,--might mean marriage--and Sophy dreaded to face this question, +with all its isolating demands. Her "friendship" with Archie Braelands +was very sweet to her; she could not endure to think of any event which +must put a stop to it. She enjoyed Archie's regrets and pleadings. She +liked to sigh a little and cry a little over her hard fate; to be +sympathised with for it; to treat it as if she could not escape from +it; and yet to be nursing in her heart a passionate hope to do so. + +And after all, the process of reflection is unnatural and uncommon to +nine tenths of humanity; and so Christina lifted her daily work and +interests, and tried to forget her fault. And indeed, as the weeks went +on, she tried to believe it had been no fault, for Sophy was much +kinder to Andrew for some time; this fact being readily discernible in +Andrew's cheerful moods, and in the more kindly interest which he then +took in his home matters. + +"For it is well with us, when it is well with Sophy Traill, and we have +the home weather she lets us have," Janet often remarked. The assertion +had a great deal of truth in it. Sophy, from her chair in Mistress +Kilgour's workroom, greatly influenced the domestic happiness of the +Binnie cottage, even though they neither saw her, nor spoke her name. +But her moods made Andrew happy or miserable, and Andrew's moods made +Janet and Christina happy or miserable; so sure and so wonderful a +thing is human solidarity. Yes indeed! For what one of us has not known +some man or woman, never seen, who holds the thread of a destiny and +yet has no knowledge concerning it. This thought would make life a +desperate tangle if we did not also know that One, infinite in power +and mercy, guides every event to its predestined and its wisest end. + +For a little while after Christina's visit, Sophy was particularly kind +to Andrew; then there came a sudden change, and Christina noticed that +her brother returned from Largo constantly with a heavy step and a +gloomy face. Occasionally he admitted to her that he had been "sorely +disappointed," but as a general thing he shut himself in his room and +sulked as only men know how to sulk, till the atmosphere of the house +was tingling with suppressed temper, and every one was on the edge of +words that the tongue meant to be sharp as a sword. + +One morning in October, Christina met her brother on the sands, and he +said, "I will take the boat and give you a sail, if you like, +Christina. There is only a pleasant breeze." + +"I wish you would, Andrew," she answered. "This little northwester will +blow every weariful thought away." + +"I'm feared I have been somewhat cross and ill to do for, lately. +Mother says so." + +"Mother does not say far wrong. You have lost your temper often, +Andrew, and consequent your common sense. And it is not like you to be +unfair, not to say unkind; you have been that more than once, and to +two who love you dearly." + +Andrew said no more until they were on the bay, then he let the oars +drift, and asked:-- + +"What did you think of Sophy the last time you saw her? Tell me truly, +Christina." + +"Who knows aught about Sophy? She hardly knows her own mind. You cannot +tell what she is thinking about by her face, any more than you can tell +what she is going to do by her words. She is as uncertain as the wind, +and it has changed since you lifted the oars. Is there anything new to +fret yourself over?" + +"Ay, there is. I cannot get sight of her." + +"Are you twenty-seven years old, and of such a beggary of capacity as +not to be able to concert time and place to see her?" + +"But if she herself is against seeing me, then how am I going to +manage?" + +"What way did you find out that she was against seeing you?" + +"Whatever else could I think, when I get no other thing but excuses? +First, she was gone away for a week's rest, and Mistress Kilgour said I +had better not trouble her--she was that nervous." + +"Where did she go to?" + +"I don't believe she was out of her aunt's house. I am sure the postman +was astonished when I told him she was away, and her aunt's face was +very confused-like. Then when I went again she had a headache, and +could hardly speak a word to me; and she never named about the week's +holiday. And the next time there was a ball dress making; and the next +she had gone to the minister's for her 'token,' and when I said I would +go there and meet her, I was told not to think of such a thing; and so +on, and so on, Christina. There is nothing but put-offs and put-bys, +and my heart is full of sadness and fearful wonder." + +"And if you do see her, what then, Andrew?" + +"She is that low-spirited I do not know how to talk to her. She has +little to say, and sits with her seam, and her eyes cast down, and all +her pretty, merry ways are gone far away. I wonder where! Do you think +she is ill, Christina?" he asked drearily. + +"No, I do not, Andrew." + +"Her mother died of a consumption, when she was only a young thing, you +know." + +"That is no reason why Sophy should die of a consumption. Andrew, have +you ever told her what your plans are? Have you told her she may be a +lady and live in London if it pleases her? Have you told her that you +will soon be _Captain Binnie_ of the North Sea fleet?" + +"No, no! What for would I bribe the girl? I want her free given love. I +want her to marry plain Andrew Binnie. I will tell her everything the +very hour she is my wife. That is the joy I look forward to. And it is +right, is it not?" + +"No. It is all wrong. It is all wrong. Girls like men that have the +spirit to win siller and push their way in the world." + +"I cannot thole the thought of Sophy marrying me for my money." + +"You think o'er much of your money. Ask yourself whether in getting +money you have got good, or only gold. And about marrying Sophy, it is +not in your hand. Marriages are made in heaven, and unless there has +been a booking of your two names above, I am feared all your courting +below will come to little. Yet it is your duty to do all you can to win +the girl you want; and I can tell you what will win Sophy Traill, if +anything on earth will win her." Then she pointed out to him how fond +Sophy was of fine dress and delicate living; how she loved roses, and +violets, and the flowers of the garden, so much better than the pale, +salt blossoms of the sea rack, however brilliant their colours; how she +admired such a house as Braelands, and praised the glory of the +peacock's trailing feathers. "The girl is not born for a poor man's +wife," she continued, "her heart cries out for gold, and all that gold +can buy; and if you are set on Sophy, and none but Sophy, you will have +to win her with what she likes best, or else see some other man do so." + +"Then I will be buying her, and not winning her." + +"Oh you unspeakable man! Your conceit is just extraordinary! If you +wanted any other good thing in life, from a big ship to a gold ring, +would you not expect to buy it? Would your loving it, and wanting it, +be sufficient? Jamie Logan knew well what he was about, when he brought +us the letter from the Hendersons' firm. I love Jamie very dearly; but +I'm free to confess the letter came into my consideration." + +Talking thus, with the good wind blowing the words into his heart, +Christina soon inspired Andrew with her own ideas and confidence His +face cleared; he began to row with his natural energy; and as they +stepped on the wet sands together, he said almost joyfully:-- + +"I will take your advice, Christina. I will go and tell Sophy +everything." + +"Then she will smile in your face, she will put her hand in your hand; +maybe, she will give you a kiss, for she will be thinking in her heart, +'how brave and how clever my Andrew is.' And he will be taking me to +London and making me a lady!' and such thoughts breed love, Andrew. You +are well enough, and few men handsomer or better--unless it be Jamie +Logan--but it isn't altogether the man; it is what the man _can do_." + +"I'll go and see Sophy to-morrow." + +"Why not to-day?" + +"She is going to Mariton House to fit a dress and do some sewing. Her +aunt told me so." + +"If I was you, I would not let her sew for strangers any longer. Go and +ask her to marry you at once, and do not take 'no' from her." + +"Your words stir my heart to the bottom of it, and I will do as you +say, Christina; for Sophy has grown into my life, like my own folk, and +the sea, and the stars, and my boat, and my home. And if she will love +me the better for the news I have to tell her, I am that far gone in +love with her I must even put wedding on that ground. Win her I must; +or else die for her." + +"Win her, surely; die for her, nonsense! No man worth the name of man +would die because a woman wouldn't marry him. God has made more than +one good woman, more than one fair woman." + +"Only one woman for Andrew Binnie." + +"To be sure, if you choose to limit yourself in that way. I think +better of you. And as for dying for a woman, I don't believe in it." + +"Poor Matt Ballantyne broke his heart about Jessie Graham." + +"It was a very poor heart then. Nothing mends so soon as a good heart. +It trusts in the Omnipotent, and gets strength for its need, and then +begins to look around for good it can do, or make for others, or take +to itself. If Matt broke his heart for Jessie, Jessie would have been +poorly cared for by such a weak kind of a heart. She is better off with +Neil McAllister, no doubt." + +"You have done me good, Christina. I have not heard so many sound +observes in a long time." + +And with that Janet came to the cliff-top and called to them to hurry. +"Step out!" she cried, "here is Jamie Logan with a pocket full of great +news; and the fish is frying itself black, while you two are +daundering, as if it was your very business and duty to keep hungry +folk waiting their dinner for you." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE LAST OF THE WHIP + + +With a joyful haste Christina went forward, leaving her brother to +follow in more sober fashion. Jamie came to the cliff-top to meet her, +and Janet from the cottage door beamed congratulations and radiant +sympathy. + +"I have got my berth on the Line, Christina! I am to sail next Friday +from Greenock, so I'll start at once, my dearie! And I am the happiest +lad in Fife to-day!" + +He had his arms around her as he spoke, and he kissed her smiles and +glad exclamations off her lips before she could put them into words. +Then Andrew joined them, and after clasping hands with Jamie and +Christina, he went slowly into the cottage, leaving the lovers alone +outside. Janet was all excitement. + +"I'm like to greet with the good news, Andrew," she said, "it came so +unexpected Jamie was just daundering over the sands, kind of +down-hearted, he said, and wondering if he would stay through the +winter and fish with Peddle or not, when little Maggie Johnston cried +out, 'there is a big letter for you, Jamie Logan,' and he went and got +it, and, lo and behold! it was from the Hendersons themselves! And they +are needing Jamie now, and he'll just go at once, he says. There's luck +for you! I am both laughing and crying with the pride and the pleasure +of it!" + +"I wouldn't make such a fuss, anyway, Mother. It is what Jamie has been +looking for and expecting, and I am glad he has won to it at last." + +"Fuss indeed! Plenty of 'fuss' made over sorrow; why not over joy? And +if you think me a fool for it, I'm not sure but I might call you my +neighbour, if it was only Sophy Traill or her affairs to be 'fussed' +over." + +"Never mind Sophy, Mother. It is Jamie and Christina now, and Christina +knows her happiness is dear to me as my own." + +"Well then, show it, Andrew. Show it, my lad! We must do what we can to +put heart into poor Jamie; for when all is said and done, he is going +to foreign parts and leaving love and home behind." And she walked to +the door and looked at Jamie and Christina, who were standing on the +cliff-edge together, deeply engaged in a conversation that was of the +highest interest to themselves. "I have fancied you have been a bit shy +with Jamie since yon time he set an old friend before his promise to +you, Andrew; but what then?" + +"I wish Christina had married among our own folk. I have no wrong to +say in particular of Jamie Logan, but I think my sister might have made +her life with some good man a bit closer to her." + +"I thought, Andrew, that you were able to look sensibly at what comes +and goes. If it was a matter of business, you would be the first to see +the advantage of building your dyke with the stones you could get at. +And you may believe me or not, but there's a deal of the successful +work of this life carried through on that principle. Well, in marrying +it is just as wise. The lad you _can get_, is happen better than the +lad you _want_. Anyhow Christina is going to marry Jamie; and I'm sure +he is that loving and pleasant, and that fond of her, that I have no +doubt she will be happy as the day is long." + +"I hope it is the truth, Mother, that you are saying." + +"It is; but some folks won't see the truth, though they are dashing +their noses against it. None so blind as they who won't see." + +"Well, it isn't within my right to speak to-day." + +"Yes, it is. It is your right and place to speak all the good and +hopeful words you can think of. Don't be dour, Andrew. Man! man! how +hard it is to rejoice with them that do rejoice! It takes more +Christianity to do that than most folks carry around with them." + +"Mother, you are a perfectly unreasonable woman. You flyte at me, as if +I was a laddie of ten years old--but I'll not dare to say but what you +do me a deal of good;" and Andrew's face brightened as he looked at +her. + +"You would hardly do the right thing, if I didn't flyte at you, Andrew. +And maybe I wouldn't do it myself, if I was not watching you; having +nobody to scold and advise is very like trying to fly a kite without +wind. Go to the door and call in Jamie and Christina. We ought to take +an interest in their bit plans and schemes; and if we take it, we ought +to show we take it." + +Then Andrew rose and went to the open door, and as he went he laid his +big hand on his mother's shoulder, and a smile flew from face to face, +and in its light every little shadow vanished. And Jamie was glad to +bring in his promised bride, and among her own people as they eat +together, talk over the good that had come to them, and the changes +that were incident to it. And thus an hour passed swiftly away, and +then "farewells" full of love and hope, and laughter and tears, and +hand-clasping, and good words, were said; and Jamie went off to his new +life, leaving a thousand pleasant hopes and expectations behind him. + +After he was fairly out of sight, and Christina stood looking tearfully +into the vacancy where his image still lingered, Andrew led her to the +top of the cliff, and they sat down together. It was an exquisite +afternoon, full of the salt and sparkle of the sea; and for awhile both +remained silent, looking down on the cottages, and the creels, and the +drying nets. The whole village seemed to be out, and the sands were +covered with picturesque figures in sea-boots and striped hanging caps, +and with the no less picturesque companion figures in striped +petticoats. Some of the latter were old women, and these wore +high-crowned, unbordered caps of white linen; others were young women, +and these had no covering at all on their exuberant hair; but most of +them displayed long gold rings in their ears, and bright scarlet or +blue kerchiefs round their necks. Andrew glanced from these figures to +his sister; and touching her striped petticoat, he said:-- + +"You'll be changing this for what they call a gown, when you go to +Glasgow! How soon is that to be, Christina?" + +"When Jamie has got well settled in his place. It wouldn't be prudent +before." + +"About the New Year, say?" + +"Ay; about the New Year." + +"I am thinking of giving you a silk gown for your wedding." + +"O Andrew! if you would! A silk gown would set me up above every thing! +I'll never forget such a favour as that." + +"I'll do it." + +"And Sophy will see to the making of it. Sophy has a wonderful taste +about trimming, and the like of that. Sophy will stand up with me, and +you will be Jamie's best man; won't you, Andrew?" + +"Ay, Sophy will see to the making of it. Few can make a gown look as +she can. She is a clever bit thing"--then after a pause he added sadly, +"there was one thing I did not tell you this morning; but it is a +circumstance I feel very badly about." + +"What is it? You know well that I shall feel with you." + +"It is the way folks keep hinting this and that to me; but more, that I +am mistrusting Mistress Kilgour. I saw a young fellow standing at the +shop door talking to her the other morning very confidential-like--a +young fellow that could not have any lawful business with her." + +"What kind of a person was he?" + +"A large, dark man, dressed like a picture in a tailor's window. His +servant-man, in a livery of brown and yellow, was holding the horses in +a fine dog-cart. I asked Jimmy Faulds what his name was and he laughed +and said it was Braelands of Braelands, and he should think I knew it +and then he looked at me that queer, that I felt as if his eyes had +told me of some calamity. 'What is he doing at Mistress Kilgour's?' I +asked as soon as I could get myself together, and Jimmy answered, 'I +suppose he is ordering Madame Braelands' millinery,' and then he +snickered and laughed again, and I had hard lines to keep my hands from +striking him.' + +"What for at all?" + +"I don't know. I wish I did." + +"If I give you my advice, will you take it?" + +"I will." + +"Then for once--if you don't want Braelands to win Sophy from you--put +your lover's fears and shamefacedness behind your back. Just remember +who and what you are, and what you are like to be, and go and tell +Sophy everything, and ask her to marry you next Monday morning. Take +gold in your pocket, and buy her a wedding gift--a ring, or a brooch, +or some bonnie thing or other; and promise her a trip to Edinburgh or +London, or any other thing she fancies." + +"We have not been 'cried' yet. And the names must be read in the kirk +for three Sundays." + +"Oh man! Cannot you get a licence? It will cost you a few shillings, +but what of that? You are too slow, Andrew. If you don't take care, and +make haste, Braelands will run away with your wife before your very +eyes." + +"I'll not believe it. It could not be. The thing is unspeakable, and +unbearable. I'll face my fate the morn, and I'll know the best--or the +worst of what is coming to me." + +"Look for good, and have good, that is, if you don't let the good hour +go by. You, Andrew Binnie! that can manage a boat when the north wind +is doing its mightiest, are you going to be one of the cony kind, when +it comes to a slip of a girl like Sophy? I can not think it, for you +know what Solomon said of such--'Oh Son, it is a feeble folk.'" + +"I don't come of feeble folk, body nor soul; and as I have said, I will +have the whole matter out with Sophy to-morrow." + +"Good--but better _do_ than say." + +The next morning a swift look of intelligence passed between Andrew and +Christina at breakfast, and about eleven o'clock Andrew said, "I'll +away now to Largo, and settle the business we were speaking of, +Christina." She looked up at him critically, and thought she had never +seen a handsomer man. Though only a fisherman, he was too much a force +of nature to be vulgar. He was the incarnation of the grey, old +village, and of the North Sea, and of its stormy winds and waters. +Standing in his boots he was over six feet, full of pluck and fibre, a +man not made for the town and its narrow doorways, but for the great +spaces of the tossing ocean. His face was strong and finely formed; his +eyes grey and open--as eyes might be that had so often searched the +thickest of the storm with unquailing glance. A sensitive flush +overspread his brow and cheeks as Christina gazed at him, and he said +nervously:-- + +"I will require to put on my best clothes; won't I, Christina?" + +She laid her hand on his arm, and shook her head with a pleasant smile. +She was regarding with pride and satisfaction her brother's fine +figure, admirably shown in the elastic grace of his blue Guernsey. She +turned the collar low enough to leave his round throat a little bare, +and put his blue flannel _Tam o' Shanter_ over his close, clustering +curls. "Go as you are," she said. "In that dress you feel at home, and +at ease, and you look ten times the man you do in your broadcloth. And +if Sophy cannot like her fisher-lad in his fisher-dress, she isn't +worthy of him." + +He was much pleased with this advice, for it precisely sorted with his +own feelings; and he stooped and kissed Christina, and she sent him +away with a smile and a good wish. Then she went to her mother, who was +in a little shed salting some fish. "Mother," she cried, "Andrew has +gone to Largo." + +"Like enough. It would be stranger, if he had stopped at home." + +"He has gone to ask Sophy to marry him next week--next Monday." + +"Perfect nonsense! We'll have no such marrying in a hurry, and a +corner. It will take a full month to marry Andrew Binnie. What would +all our folks say, far and near, if they were not bid to the wedding? +Set to that, you have to be married first. Marrying isn't like +Christmas, coming every year of our Lord; and we _be_ to make the most +of it. I'll not give my consent to any such like hasty work. Why, they +are not even 'called' in the kirk yet." + +"Andrew can get a licence." + +"Andrew can get a fiddle-stick! None of the Binnies were ever married, +but by word of the kirk, and none of them shall be, if I can help it. +Licence indeed! Buying the right to marry for a few shillings, and the +next thing will be a few more shillings for the right to un-marry. I'll +not hear tell of such a way." + +"But, Mother, if Andrew does not get Sophy at once, he may lose her +altogether." + +"_Humph_! No great loss." + +"The biggest loss in the world that Andrew can have. Things are come to +a pass. If Andrew does not marry her at once, I am feared Braelands +will carry her off." + +"He is welcome to her." + +"No, no, Mother! Do you want Braelands to get the best of Andrew?" + +"The like of him get the best of Andrew! I'll not believe it. Sophy +isn't beyond all sense of right and feeling. If, after all these years, +she left Andrew for that fine gentleman, she would be a very Jael of +deceit and treachery. I wish I had told her about her mother's second +cousin, bonnie Lizzie Lauder." + +"What of her? I never heard tell, did I, Mother?" + +"No. We don't speak of Lizzie now." + +"Why then?" + +"She was very bonnie, and she was very like Sophy about hating to work; +and she was never done crying to all the gates of pleasure to open wide +and let her enter. And she went in." + +"Well, Mother? Is that all?" + +"No. I wish in God's mercy it was! The avenging gates closed on her. +She is shut up in hell. There, I'll say no more." + +"Yes, Mother. You will ask God's mercy for her. It never faileth." + +Janet turned away, and lifted her apron to her eyes, and stood so +silent for a few minutes. And Christina left her alone, and went back +into the house place, and began to wash up the breakfast-cups and cut +up some vegetables for their early dinner. And by-and-by her mother +joined her, and Christina began to tell how Andrew had promised her a +silk gown for her wedding. This bit of news was so wonderful and +delightful to Janet, that it drove all other thoughts far from her. She +sat down to discuss it with all the care and importance the subject +demanded. Every colour was considered; and when the colour had been +decided, there was then the number of yards and the kind of trimming to +be discussed, and the manner of its making, and the person most +suitable to undertake the momentous task. For Janet was at that hour +angry with Mistress Kilgour, and not inclined to "put a bawbee her +way," seeing that it was most likely she had been favouring Braeland's +suit, and therefore a bitter enemy to Andrew. + +After the noon meal, Janet took her knitting, and went to tell as many +of her neighbours as it was possible to see during the short afternoon, +about the silk gown her Christina was to be married in; and Christina +spread her ironing table, and began to damp, and fold, and smooth the +clean linen. And as she did so, she sang a verse or two of 'Hunting +Tower,' and then she thought awhile, and then she sang again. And she +was so happy, that her form swayed to her movements; it seemed to smile +as she walked backwards and forwards with the finished garments or the +hot iron in her hands. She was thinking of the happy home she would +make for Jamie, and of all the bliss that was coming to her. For before +a bird flies you may see its wings, and Christina was already pluming +hers for a flight into that world which in her very ignorance she +invested with a thousand unreal charms. + +She did not expect Andrew back until the evening. He would most likely +have a long talk with Sophy; there was so much to tell her, and when it +was over, it would be in a large measure to tell again to Mistress +Kilgour. Then it was likely Andrew would take tea with his promised +wife, and perhaps they might have a walk afterwards; so, calculating +all these things. Christina came to the conclusion that it would be +well on to bed time, before she knew what arrangements Andrew had made +for his marriage and his life after it. + +Not a single unpleasant doubt troubled her mind, she thought she knew +Sophy's nature so well; and she could hardly conceive it possible, that +the girl should have any reluctances about a lad so well known, so +good, and so handsome, and with such a fine future before him, as +Andrew Binnie. All Sophy's flights and fancies, all her favours to +young Braelands, Christina put down to the dissatisfaction Sophy so +often expressed with her position, and the vanity which arose naturally +from her recognised beauty and youthful grace. But to be "a settled +woman," with a loving husband and "a house of her own," seemed to +Christina an irresistible offer; and she smiled to herself when she +thought of Sophy's surprise, and of the many pretty little airs and +conceits the state of bridehood would be sure to bring forth in her +self-indulgent nature. + +"She will be provoking enough, no doubt," she whispered as she set the +iron sharply down; "but I'll never notice it. She is very little more +than a bairn, and but a canary-headed creature added to that. In a year +or two, Andrew, and marriage, and maybe motherhood, will sober and +settle her. And Andrew loves her so. Most as well as Jamie loves me. +For Andrew's sake, then, I'll bear with all her provoking ways and +words. She'll be _our own_, anyway, and we be to have patience with +they of our own household. Bonnie wee Sophy." + +It was about mid-afternoon when she came to this train of forbearing +and conciliating reflections. She was quite happy in it; for Christina +was one of those wise women, who do not look into their ideals and +hopes too closely. Her face reflecting them was beautiful and benign; +and her shoulders, and hands, her supple waist and limbs, continued the +symphonies of her soft, deep, loving eyes and her smiling mouth. Every +now and then she burst into song; and then her thrilling voice, so +sweet and fresh, had tones in it that only birds and good women full of +love may compass. Mostly the song was a lilt or a verse which spoke for +her own heart and love; but just as the clock struck three, she broke +into a low laugh which ended in a merry, mocking melody, and which was +evidently the conclusion of her argument concerning Sophy's behaviour +as Andrew's wife-- + +"Toot! toot! quoth the grey-headed father, + She's less of a bride than a bairn; +She's ta'en like a colt from the heather, + With sense and discretion to learn. + +"Half-husband I trow, and half daddy, + As humour inconstantly leans; +The man must be patient and steady, + That weds with a lass in her teens." + +She had hardly finished the verse, when she heard a step blending with +its echoes. Her ears rung inward; her eyes dilated with an unhappy +expectancy; she put down her iron with a sudden faint feeling, and +turned her face to the door. + +Andrew entered the cottage. He looked at her despairingly, and sinking +into his chair, he covered his wretched face with his hands. + +It was not the same man who had left her a few hours before. A change, +like that which a hot iron would make upon a green leaf, had been made +in her handsome, hopeful, happy brother. She could not avoid an +exclamation that was a cry of terror; and she went to him and kissed +him, and murmured, she knew not what words of pity and love. Under +their influence, the flood gates of sorrow were unloosed, he began to +weep, to sob, to shake and tremble, like a reed in a tempest. + +Christina saw that his soul was tossed from top to bottom, and in the +madness of the storm, she knew it was folly to ask "why?" But she went +to the door, closed it, slipped forward the bolt, and then came back to +his side, waiting there patiently until the first paroxysm of his grief +was over. Then she said softly:-- + +"Andrew! My brother Andrew! What sorrow has come to you? Tell +Christina." + +"Sophy is dead--dead and gone for me. Oh Sophy, Sophy, Sophy!" + +"Andrew, tell me a straight tale. You are not a woman to let any sorrow +get the mastery over you." + +"Sophy has gone from me. She has played me false--and after all these +years, deceived and left me." + +"Then there is still the Faithful One. His love is from everlasting, to +everlasting. He changeth not." + +"Ay; I know," he said drearily. But he straightened himself and +unfastened the button at his throat, and stood up on his feet, planting +them far apart, as if he felt the earth like the reeling deck of a +ship. And Christina opened the little window, and drew his chair near +it, and let the fresh breeze blow upon him; and her heart throbbed +hotly with anger and pity. + +"Sit down in the sea wind, Andrew," she said. "There's strength and a +breath of comfort in it; and try and give your trouble words. Did you +see Sophy?" + +"Ay; I saw her." + +"At her aunt's house?" + +"No. I met her on the road. She was in a dog-cart; and the master of +Braelands was driving her. I saw her, ere she saw me; and she was +looking in his face as she never looked in my face. She loves him, +Christina, as she never loved me." + +"Did you speak to her?" + +"I was that foolish, and left to myself. She was going to pass me, +without a look or a word; but I could not thole the scorn and pain of +it, and I called out to her, '_Sophy_! _Sophy_!'" + +"And she did not answer you?" + +"She cruddled closer to Braelands. And then he lifted the whip to hurry +the horse; and before I knew what I was doing, I had the beast by the +head--and the lash of the whip--struck me clean across the cheek bone." + +"Oh Andrew! Andrew!" And she bent forward and looked at the outraged +cheek, and murmuring, "I see the mark of it! I see the mark of it!" she +kissed the long, white welt, and wetted it with her indignant tears. + +Andrew sat passive under her sympathy until she asked, "Did Braelands +say anything when he struck you? Had he no word of excuse?" + +"He said: 'It is your own fault, fisherman. The lash was meant for the +horse, and not for you.'" + +"Well?" + +"And I was in a passion; and I shouted some words I should not have +said--words I never said in my life before. I didn't think the like of +them were in my heart." + +"I don't blame you, Andrew." + +"I blame myself though. Then I bid Sophy get out of the cart and come +to me;--and--" + +"Yes, dear?" + +"And she never moved or spoke; she just covered her face with her +hands, and gave a little scream;--for no doubt I had frighted her--and +Braelands, he got into the de'il's own rage then, and dared me to call +the lady 'Sophy' again; 'for,' said he, 'she will be my wife before +many days'; and with that, he struck the horse savagely again and +again, and the poor beast broke from my hand, and bounded for'ard; and +I fell on my back, and the wheels of the cart grazed the soles of my +shoon as they passed me." + +"And then?" + +"I don't know how long I lay there." + +"And they went on and left you lying in the highway?" + +"They went on." + +"The wicked lass! Oh the wicked, heartless lass!" + +"You are not able to judge her, Christina." + +"But you can judge Braelands. Get a warrant for the scoundrel the morn. +He is without the law." + +"Then I would make Sophy the common talk, far and near. How could I +wrong Sophy to right myself?" + +"But the whip lash! the whip lash! Andrew. You cannot thole the like of +that!" + +"There was One tholed for me the lash and the buffet, and answer'd +never a word. I can thole the lash for Sophy's sake. A poor love I +would have for Sophy, if I put my own pride before her good name. If I +get help 'from beyond,' I can thole the lash, Christina." + +He was white through all the tan of wind, and sea, and sun; and the +sweat of his suffering stood in great beads on his pallid face and +brow. Christina lifted a towel, which she had just ironed, and wiped it +away; and he said feebly;-- + +"Thank you, dear lass! I will go to my bed a wee." + +So Christina opened the door of his room and he tottered in, swaying +like a drunken man, and threw himself upon his bed. Five minutes +afterward she stepped softly to his side. He was sunk in deep sleep, +fathoms below the tide of grief whose waves and billows had gone over +him. + +"Thanks be to the Merciful!" she whispered. "When the sorrow is too +great, then He giveth His beloved sleep." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE LOST BRIDE + + +This unforeseen and unhappy meeting forced a climax in Sophy's love +affairs, which she had hitherto not dared to face. In fact, +circumstances tending that way had arisen about a week previously; and +it was in consequence of them, that she was publicly riding with +Braelands when Andrew met them. For a long time she had insisted on +secrecy in her intercourse with her "friend." She was afraid of Andrew; +she was afraid of her aunt; she was afraid of being made a talk and a +speculation to the gossips of the little town. And though Miss Kilgour +had begun to suspect somewhat, she was not inclined to verify her +suspicions. Madame Braelands was a good customer, therefore she did not +wish to know anything about a matter which she was sure would be a +great annoyance to that lady. + +But Madame herself forced the knowledge on her. Some friend had called +at Braelands and thought it right to let her know what a dangerous +affair her son was engaged in. "For the girl is beautiful," she said, +"there is no denying that; and she comes of fisher-folk, who have +simply no idea but that love words and love-kisses must lead to +marrying and housekeeping, and who will bitterly resent and avenge a +wrong done to any woman of their class, as you well know, Madame." + +Madame did know this very well; and apart from her terror of a +_mesalliance_ for the heir of Braelands, there was the fact that his +family had always had great political influence, and looked to a public +recognition of it. The fisher vote was an important factor in the +return of any aspirant for Parliamentary honour; and she felt keenly +that Archie was endangering his whole future career by his attentions +to a girl whom it was impossible he should marry, but who would have +the power to arouse against him a bitter antagonism, if he did not +marry her. + +She affected to her friend a total indifference to the subject of her +son's amusements, and she said "she was moreover sure that Archibald +Braelands would never do anything to prejudice his own honour, or the +honour of the humblest fisher-girl in Fifeshire." But all the same, her +heart was sick with fear and anxiety; and as soon as her informant had +gone, she ordered her carriage, dressed herself in all her braveries, +and drove hastily to Mistress Kilgour's. + +At that very hour, this lady was fussing and fuming angrily at her +niece. Sophy had insisted on going for a walk, and in the altercation +attending this resolve, Mistress Kilgour had unadvisably given speech +to her suspicions about Sophy's companion in these frequent walks, and +threatened her with a revelation of these doubts to Andrew Binnie. But +in spite of all, Sophy had left the house; and her aunt was nursing her +wrath against her when Madame Braeland's carriage clattered up to her +shop door. + +Now if Madame had been a prudent woman, and kept the rein on her +prideful temper, she would have found Mistress Kilgour in the very mood +suitable for an ally. But Madame had also been nursing her wrath, and +as soon as Mistress Kilgour had appeared, she asked angrily:-- + +"Where is that niece of yours, Mistress Kilgour? I should very much +like to know." + +The tone of the question irritated the dressmaker, and instantly her +sympathies flew toward her own kith, and kin, and class. Also, her +caution was at once aroused, and she answered the question, +Scotch-wise, by another question:-- + +"What for are you requiring to see Sophy, Madame?" + +"Is she in the house?" + +"Shall I go and see?" + +"Go and see, indeed! You know well she is not. You know she is away +somewhere, walking or driving with my son--with the heir of Braelands. +Oh, I have heard all about their shameful carryings-on." + +"You'll not need to use the word 'shameful' with regard to my niece, +Sophy Traill, Madame Braelands. She has never earned such a like word, +and she never will. You may take my say-so for that." + +"It is not anybody's say-so in this case. Seeing is believing, and they +have been seen together, walking in Fernie wood, and down among the +rocks on the Elie coast, and in many other places." + +"Well and good, Madame. What by that? Young things will be young +things." + +"What by that? Do you, a woman of your age, ask me such a question? +When a gentleman of good blood and family, as well as great wealth, +goes walking and driving with a poor girl of no family at all, do you +ask what by that? Nothing but disgrace and trouble can be looked for." + +"Speak for your own kin and side, Madame. And I should think a woman of +your age--being at least twenty years older than myself--would know +that true love never asks for a girl's pedigree. And as for 'disgrace,' +Sophy Traill will never call anything like 'disgrace' to herself. I +will allow that Sophy is poor, but as for family, the Traills are of +the best Norse strain. They were sea-fighters, hundreds of years before +they were sea-fishers; and they had been 'at home' on the North Sea, +and in all the lands about it, centuries before the like of the +Braelands were thought or heard tell of." + +Mistress Kilgour was rapidly becoming angry, and Madame would have been +wise to have noted the circumstance; but she herself was now past all +prudence, and with an air of contempt she took out her jewelled watch, +and beginning to slowly wind it, said:-- + +"My good woman, Sophy's father was a common fisherman. We have no call +to go back to the time when her people were pirates and sea-robbers." + +"I am _my own_ woman, Madame. And I will take my oath I am not _your_ +woman, anyhow. And 'common' or uncommon, the fishermen of Fife call no +man master but the Lord God Almighty, from whose hands they take their +food, summer and winter. And I will make free to say, moreover, that if +Braelands loves Sophy Traill and she loves him, worse might befall him +than Sophy for a wife. For if God thinks fit to mate them, it is not +Griselda Kilgour that will take upon herself to contradict the Will of +Heaven." + +"Don't talk rubbish, Mistress Kilgour. People who live in society have +to regard what society thinks and says." + +"It is no ways obligatory, Madame, the voice of God and Nature has more +weight, I'm thinking, and if God links two together, you will find it +gey and hard to separate them." + +"I heard the girl was promised since her babyhood to a fisherman called +Andrew Binnie." + +"For once you have heard the truth, Madame. But you know yourself that +babyhood and womanhood are two different things; and the woman has just +set at naught the baby. That is all." + +"No, it is not all. This Andrew Binnie is a man of great influence +among the fishers, and my son cannot afford to make enemies among that +class. It will be highly prejudicial to him." + +"I cannot help that Madame. Braelands is well able to row his own boat. +At any rate, I am not called to take an oar in it." + +"Yes, you are. I have been a good customer to you, Mistress Kilgour." + +"I am not denying it; at the same time I have been a good dress and +bonnet maker to you, and earned every penny-bit you have paid me. The +obligation is mutual, I'm thinking." + +"I can be a still better customer if you will prevent this +gentle-shepherding and love-making. I would not even scruple at a +twenty pound note, or perhaps two of them." + +"_Straa_! If you were Queen of England, Madame, I would call you an +insolent dastard, to try and bribe me against my own flesh and blood. +You are a very Judas, to think of such a thing. Good blood! fine +family! indeed! If your son is like yourself, I'm not caring for him +coming into my family at all." + +"Mistress Kilgour, you may close my account with you. I shall employ +you no more." + +"Pay me the sixteen pounds odd you owe me, and then I will shut my +books forever against Braelands. Accounts are not closed till +outstanding money is paid in." + +"I shall send the money." + +"The sight of the money would be better than the promise of it, Madame; +for some of it is owing more than a twelvemonth;" and Mistress Kilgour +hastily turned over to the Braelands page of her ledger, while Madame, +with an air of affront and indignation, hastily left the shop. + +Following this wordy battle with her dressmaker, Madame had an equally +stubborn one with her son, the immediate consequence of which was that +very interview whose close was witnessed by Andrew Binnie. In this +conference Braelands acknowledged his devotion to Sophy, and earnestly +pleaded for Mistress Kilgour's favour for his suit. She was now quite +inclined to favour him. Her own niece, as mistress of Braelands, would +be not only a great social success, but also a great financial one. +Madame Braelands's capacity for bonnets was two every year; Sophy's +capacity was unlimited. Madame considered four dresses annually quite +extravagant; Sophy's ideas on the same subject were constantly +enlarging. And then there would be the satisfaction of overcoming +Madame. So she yielded easily and gracefully to Archie Braelands's +petition, and thus Sophy suddenly found herself able to do openly what +she had hitherto done secretly, and the question of her marriage with +Braelands accepted as an understood conclusion. + +At this sudden culmination of her hardly acknowledged desires, the girl +was for a short tune distracted. She felt that Andrew must now be +definitely resigned, and a strangely sad feeling of pity and reluctance +assailed her. There were moments she knew not which lover was dearest +to her. The habit of loving Andrew had grown through long years in her +heart; she trusted him as she trusted no other mortal, she was not +prepared to give up absolutely all rights in a heart so purely and so +devotedly her own. For if she knew anything, she knew right well that +no other man would ever give her the same unfaltering, unselfish +affection. + +And when she dared to consider truthfully her estimate of Archie +Braelands, she judged his love, passionate as it was, did not ring true +through all its depths. There were times when her little _gaucheries_ +fretted him; when her dress did not suit him; when he put aside an +engagement with her for a sail with a lord, or a dinner party with +friends, or a social function at his own home. Andrew put no one before +her; and even the business that kept him from her side was all for her +future happiness. Every object and every aim of his life had reference +to her. It was hard to give up such a perfect love, and she felt that +she could not see Andrew face to face and do it. Hence her refusals to +meet him, and her shyness and silence when a meeting was unavoidable. +Hence, also, came a very peculiar attitude of Andrew's friends and +mates; for they could not conceive how Andrew's implicit faith in his +love should prevent him from finding out what was so evident to every +man and woman in Largo. + +Alas! the knowledge had now come to him. That it could have come in any +harder way, it is difficult to believe. There was only one palliation +to its misery--it was quite unpremeditated--but even this mitigation +of the affront hardly brought him any comfort as yet Braelands was +certainly deeply grieved at the miserable outcome of the meeting. He +knew the pride of the fisher race, and he had himself a manly instinct, +strong enough to understand the undeserved humiliation of Andrew's +position. Honestly, as a gentleman, he was sorry the quarrel had taken +place; as a lover, he was anxious to turn it to his own advantage. For +he saw that, in spite of all her coldness and apparent apathy, Sophy +was affected and wounded by Andrew's bitter imploration and its +wretched and sorrowful ending. If the man should gain her ear and +sympathy, Braelands feared for the result. He therefore urged her to an +immediate marriage; and when Mistress Kilgour was taken into counsel, +she encouraged the idea, because of the talk which was sure to follow +such a flagrant breach of the courtesies of life. + +But even at this juncture, Sophy's vanity must have its showing; and +she refused to marry, until at least two or three suitable dresses +should have been prepared; so the uttermost favour that could be +obtained from the stubborn little bride was a date somewhere within two +weeks away. + +During these two weeks there was an unspeakable unhappiness in the +Binnie household. For oh, how dreary are those wastes of life, left by +the loved who have deserted us! These are the vacant places we water +with our bitterest tears. Had Sophy died, Andrew would have said, "It +is the Lord; let him do what seemeth right in his sight." But the +manner and the means of his loss filled him with a dumb sorrow and +rage; for in spite of his mother's and sister's urging, he would do +nothing to right his own self-respect at the price of giving Sophy the +slightest trouble or notoriety. Suffer! Yes, he suffered at home, where +Janet and Christina continually reminded him of the insult he ought to +avenge; and he suffered also abroad, where his mates looked at him with +eyes full of surprise and angry inquiries. + +But though the village was ringing with gossip about Sophy and young +Braelands, never a man or woman in it ventured to openly question the +stern, sullen, irritable man who had been so long recognised as her +accepted lover. And whether he was in the boats or out of them, no one +dared to speak Sophy's name in his presence. Indeed, upon the whole, he +was during these days what Janet Binnie called "an ill man to live +with--a man out of his senses, and falling away from his meat and his +clothes." + +This misery continued for about two weeks without any abatement, and +Janet's and Christina's sympathy was beginning to be tinged with +resentment. It seems so unnatural and unjust, that a girl who had +already done them so much wrong, and who was so far outside their daily +life, should have the power to still darken their home, and infuse a +bitter drop into their peculiar joys and hopes. + +"I am glad the wicked lass isn't near by me," said Janet one morning, +when Andrew had declared himself unable to eat his breakfast and gone +out of the cottage to escape his mother's pleadings and reproofs. "I'm +glad she isn't near me. If she was here, I could not keep my tongue +from her. She should hear the truth for once, if she never heard it +again. They should be words as sharp as the birch rod she ought to have +had, when she first began her nonsense, and her airs and graces." + +"She is a bad girl; but we must remember that she was left much to +herself--no mother to guide her, no sister or brother either." + +"It would have been a pity if there had been more of them. One scone of +that baking is enough. The way she has treated our Andrew is +abominable. Flesh and blood can't bear such doings." + +As Janet made this assertion, a cousin of Sophy's came into the +cottage, and answered her. "I know you are talking of Sophy," she said, +"and I am not wondering at the terrivee you are making. As for me, +though she is my cousin, I'll never exchange the Queen's language with +her again as long as I live in this world. But all bad things come to +an end, as well as good ones, and I am bringing what will put a stop at +last to all this clishmaclaver about that wearisome lassie,"--and with +these words she handed Janet two shining white cards, tied together +with a bit of silver wire. + +They were Sophy's wedding cards; and she had also sent from Edinburgh a +newspaper containing a notice of her marriage to Archibald Braelands. +The news was very satisfactory to Janet. She held the bits of cardboard +with her fingertips, looking grimly at the names upon them. Then she +laughed, not very pleasantly, at the difference in the size of the +cards. "He has the wee card now," she said, "and Sophy the big one; but +I'm thinking the wee one will grow big, and the big one grow little +before long. I will take them to Andrew myself; the sight of them will +be a bitter medicine, but it will do him good. Folks may count it great +gain when they get rid of a false hope." + +Andrew was walking moodily about the bit of bare turf in front of the +cottage door, stopping now and then to look over the sea, where the +brown sails of some of the fishing boats still caught the lazy south +wind. He was thinking that the sea was cloudy, and that there was an +evil-looking sky to the eastward; and then, as his mind took in at the +same moment the dangers to the fishers who people the grey waters and +his own sorrowful wrong, he turned and began to walk about +muttering--"Lord help us! We must bear what is sent." + +Then Janet called him, and he watched for her approach. She put the +cards into his hand saying, "Sophy's cousin, Isobel Murray, brought +them." Her voice was full of resentment; and Andrew, not at the moment +realising a custom so unfamiliar in a fishing-village, looked +wonderingly in his mother's face, and then at the fateful white +messengers. + +"Read the names on them, Andrew man, and you'll know then why they are +sent to Pittendurie." + +Then he looked steadily at the inscription, and the struggle of the +inner man shook the outward man visibly. It was like a shot in the +backbone. But it was only for a moment he staggered; though he had few +resources, his faith in the Cross and his confidence in himself made +him a match for his hard fate. It is in such critical moments the soul +reveals if it be selfish or generous, and Andrew, with a quick upward +fling of the head, regained absolutely that self-control, which he had +voluntarily abdicated. + +"You will tell Isobel," he said, "that I wish Mistress Braelands every +good thing, both for this life and the next." Then he stepped closer to +his mother and kissed her; and Janet was so touched and amazed that she +could not speak. But the look of loving wonder on her face was far +better than words. And as she stood looking at him, Andrew put the +cards in his pocket, and went down to the sea; and Janet returned to +the cottage and gave Isobel the message he had sent. + +But this information, so scanty and yet so conclusive, by no means +satisfied the curiosity of the women. A great deal of indignation was +expressed by Sophy's kindred and friends in the village at her total +ignoring of their claims. They did not expect to be invited to a house +like Braelands; but they did think Sophy ought to have visited them and +told them all about her preparations and future plans. They were her +own flesh and blood, and they deeply resented her non-recognition of +the claims of kindred. Isobel, as the central figure of this +dissatisfaction, was a very important person. She at least had received +"cards," and the rest of the cousins to the sixth degree felt that they +had been grossly slighted in the omission. So Isobel, for the sake of +her own popularity, was compelled to make common cause, and to assert +positively that "she thought little of the compliment." Sophy only +wanted her folk to know she was now Mistress Braelands, and she had +picked her out to carry the news--good or bad news, none yet could say. + +Janet was not inclined to discuss the matter with her. She was so cold +about it, that Isobel quickly discovered she had 'work to finish at her +own house,' for she recollected that if the Binnies were not inclined +to talk over the affair there were plenty of wives and maids in +Pittendurie who were eager to do so. So Janet and Christina were +quickly left to their own opinions on the marriage, the first of which +was, that "Sophy had behaved very badly to them." + +"But I wasn't going to say bad words for Isobel to clash round the +village," said Janet "and I am gey glad Andrew took the news so +man-like and so Christian-like. They can't make any speculations about +Andrew now, and that will be a sore disappointment to the hussies, for +some of them are but ill willy creatures." + +"I am glad Andrew kept a brave heart, and could bring good words out of +it." + +"What else would you expect from Andrew? Do you think Andrew Binnie +will fret himself one moment about a wife that is not his wife? He +would not give the de'il such a laugh over him. You may take my word, +that he will break no commandment for any lass; and Sophy Braelands +will now have to vacate his very thoughts." + +"I am glad she is married then. If her marriage cures Andrew of that +never-ending fret about her, it will be a comfort." + +"It is a cure, sure as death, as far as your brother is concerned. +Fancy Andrew Binnie pining and worrying about Archie Braelands's wife! +The thing would be sinful, and therefore fairly impossible to him! I'm +as glad as you are that no worse than marriage has come to the lass; +she is done with now, and I am wishing her no more ill than she has +called to herself." + +"She has brought sorrow enough to our house," said Christina. "All the +days of my own courting have been saddened and darkened with the worry +and the care of her. Andrew was always either that set up or that +knocked down about her, that he could not give a thought to Jamie's and +my affairs. It was only when you talked about Sophy, or his wedding +with Sophy, that he looked as if the world was worth living in. He was +fast growing into a real selfish man." + +"_Toots!_ Every one in love--men or women--are as selfish as they can +be. The whole round world only holds two folk: their own self, and +another. I would like to have a bit of chat before long, that did not +set itself to love-making and marrying." + +"Goodness, Mother! You have not chatted much with me lately about +love-making and marrying. Andrew's trouble has filled the house, and +you have hardly said a word about poor Jamie, who never gave either of +us a heartache. I wonder where he is to-day!" + +Janet thought a moment and then answered: "He would leave New York for +Scotland, last Saturday. 'T is Wednesday morning now, and he will maybe +reach Glasgow next Tuesday. Then it will not take him many hours to +find himself in Pittendurie." + +"I doubt it. He will not be let come and go as he wants to. It would +not be reasonable. He will have to obey orders. And when he gets off, +it will be a kind of favour. A steamboat and a fishing-boat are two +different things, Mother, forbye, Jamie is but a new hand, and will +have his way to win." + +"What are you talking about, you silly, fearful lassie? It would be a +poor-like, heartless captain, that had not a fellow-feeling for a lad +in love. Jamie will just have to tell him about yourself, and he will +send the lad off with a laugh, or maybe a charge not to forget the +ship's sailing-day. Hope well, and have well, lassie." + +"You'll be far mistaken, Mother. I am not expecting Jamie for more than +two or three trips--but he'll be thinking of me, and I can not help +thinking of him." + +"Think away, Christina. Loving thoughts keep out others, not as good. I +wonder how it would do to walk as far as Largo, and find out all about +the marriage from Griselda Kilgour. Then _I_ would have the essentials, +and something worth telling and talking about." + +"I would go, Mother. Griselda will be thirsty to tell all she knows, +and just distracted with the glory of her niece. She will hold herself +very high, no doubt." + +"Griselda and her niece are two born fools, and I am not to be put to +the wall by the like of them. And it is not beyond hoping, that I'll be +able to give the woman a mouthful of sound advice. She's a set-up body, +but I shall disapprove of all she says." + +"You may disapprove till you are black in the face, Mother, but +Griselda will hold her own; she is neither flightersome, nor easy +frightened. I'm feared it is going to rain. I see the glass has +fallen." + +"I'm not minding the 'glass'. The sky is clear, and I think far more of +the sky, and the look of it, than I do of the 'glass'. I wonder at +Andrew hanging it in our house; it is just sinful and unlucky to be +taking the change of the weather out of His hands. But rain or fine, I +am going to Largo." + +As she spoke, she was taking out of her kist a fine Paisley shawl and a +bonnet, and with Christina's help she was soon dressed to her own +satisfaction. Fortunately one of the fishers was going with his cart to +Largo, so she got a lift over the road, and reached Griselda Kilgour's +early in the afternoon. There were no bonnets and caps in the window of +the shop, and when Janet entered, the place had a covered-up, +Sabbath-day look that kindled her curiosity. The ringing of the bell +quickly brought Mistress Kilgour forward, and she also had an unusual +look. But she seemed pleased to see Janet, and very heartily asked her +into the little parlour behind. + +"I'm just home," she said, "and I'm making myself a cup of tea ere I +sort up the shop and get to my day's work again. Sit down, Janet, and +take off your things, and have a cup with me. Strange days and strange +doings in them lately!" + +"You may well lift up your eyes and your hands, Griselda. I never heard +tell of the like. The whole village is in a flustration; and I just +came o'er-by, to find out from you the long and the short of +everything. I'm feared you have been sorely put about with the wilful +lass." + +"Mistress Braelands had no one to lippen to but me. I had everything to +look after. The Master of Braelands was that far gone in love, he +wasn't to be trusted with anything. But my niece has done a good job +for herself." + +"It is well _some one_ has got good out of her treachery. She brought +sorrow enough to my house. But I'm glad it is all over, and that +Braelands has got her. She wouldn't have suited my son at all, +Griselda." + +"Not in the least," answered the dressmaker with an air of offence. +"How many lumps of sugar, Janet?" + +"I'm not taking sugar. Where was the lass married?" + +"In Edinburgh." We didn't want any talk and fuss about the wedding, and +Braelands he said to me, 'Mistress Kilgour, if you will take a little +holiday, and go with Sophy to Edinburgh, and give her your help about +the things she requires, we shall both of us be your life-long +debtors.' And I thought Edinburgh was the proper place, and so I went +with Sophy--putting up a notice on the shop door that I had gone to +look at the winter fashions and would be back to-day--and here I am for +I like to keep my word. + +"You didn't keep it with my Andrew, for you promised to help him with +Sophy, you promised that more than once or twice." + +"No one can help a man who fights against himself, and Andrew never did +prize Sophy as Braelands did, the way that man ran after the lass, and +coaxed and courted and pleaded with her! And the bonnie things he gave +her! And the stone blind infatuation of the creature! Well I never saw +the like. He was that far gone in love, there was nothing for him but +standing up before the minister." + +"What minister?" + +"Dr. Beith of St. Andrews. Braelands sits in St. Andrews, when he is in +Edinburgh for the winter season and Dr. Beith is knowing him well. I +wish you could have seen the dresses and the mantillas, the bonnets and +the fineries of every sort I had to buy Sophy, not to speak of the +rings and gold chains and bracelets and such things, that Braelands +just laid down at her feet." + +"What kind of dresses?" + +"Silks and satins--white for the wedding-dress--and pink, and blue and +tartan and what not! I tell you McFinlay and Co. were kept busy day and +night for Sophy Braelands." + +Then Mistress Kilgour entered into a minute description of all Sophy's +beautiful things, and Janet listened attentively, not only for her own +gratification, but also for that of every woman in Pittendurie. Indeed +she appeared so interested that her entertainer never suspected the +anger she was restraining with difficulty until her curiosity had been +satisfied. But when every point had been gone over, when the last thing +about Sophy's dress and appearance had been told and discussed, Janet +suddenly inquired, "Have they come back to Largo yet?" + +"Indeed nothing so common," answered Griselda, proudly. "They have gone +to foreign lands--to France, and Italy, and Germany,"--and then with a +daring imagination she added, "and it's like they won't stop short of +Asia and America." + +"Well, Jamie Logan, my Christina's promised man is on the American +line. I dare say he will be seeing her on his ship, and no doubt he +will do all he can to pleasure her." + +"Jamie Logan! Sophy would not think of noticing him now. It would not +be proper." + +"What for not? He is as good a man as Archie Braelands, and if all +reports be true, a good deal better." + +"_Archie_ indeed! I'm thinking 'Master Braelands' would be more as it +should be." + +"I'll never 'master' him. He is no 'master' of mine. What for does he +have a Christian name, if he is not to be called by it?" + +"Well, Janet, you need not show your temper. Goodness knows, it is as +short as a cat's hair. And Braelands is beyond your tongue, anyhow." + +"I'm not giving him a word. Sophy will pay every debt he is owing me +and mine. The lassie has been badly guided all her life, and as she +would not be ruled by the rudder, she must be ruled by the rocks." + +"Think shame of yourself! For speaking ill to a new-made bride! How +would you like me to say such words to Christina?" + +"Christina would never give occasion for them. She is as true as steel +to her own lad." + +"Maybe she has no temptation to be false. That makes a deal of differ. +Anyway, Sophy is a woman now in the married state, and answerable to +none but her husband. I hope Andrew is not fretting more than might be +expected." + +"Andrew! Andrew fretting! Not he! Not a minute! As soon as he knew she +was a wife, he cast her out of his very thoughts. You don't catch +Andrew Binnie putting a light-of-love lassie before a command of God." + +"I won't hear you talk of my niece--of the mistress of Braelands--in +that kind of a way, Janet. She's our betters now, and we be to take +notice of the fact" + +"She'll have to learn and unlearn a good lot before she is to be spoke +of as any one's 'betters.' I hope while she is seeing the world she +will get her eyes opened to her own faults; they will give her plenty +to think of." + +"Keep me, woman! Such a way to go on about your own kin." + +"She is no kin to the Binnies. I have cast her out of my reckoning." + +"She is Christina's sixth cousin." + +"She is nothing at all to us. I never did set any store by those Orkney +folks--a bad lot! A very selfish, false, bad lot!" + +"You are speaking of my people, Janet." + +"I am quite aware of it, Griselda." + +"Then keep your tongue in bounds." + +"My tongue is my own." + +"My house is my own. And if you can't be civil, I'll be necessitated to +ask you to leave it." + +"I'm going as soon as I have told you that you have the most +gun-powdery temper I ever came across; forbye, you are fairly drunk +with the conceit and vanity of Sophy's grand marriage. You are full as +the Baltic with the pride of it, woman!" + +"Temper! It is you, that are in a temper." + +"That's neither here nor there. I have my reasons." + +"Reasons, indeed! I'd like to see you reasonable for once." + +"Yes, I have my reasons. How was my lad Andrew used by the both of you? +And what do you think of his last meeting with that heartless limmer +and her fine sweetheart?" + +"Andrew should have kept himself out of their way. As soon as Braelands +came round Sophy, Andrew got the very de'il in him. I was aye feared +there would be murder laid to his name." + +"You needn't have been feared for the like of that. Andrew Binnie has +enough of the devil in him to keep the devil out of him. Do you think +he would put blood on his soul for Sophy Traill? No, not for twenty +lasses better than her! You needn't look at me as if your eyes were +cocked pistols. I have heard all I wanted to hear, and said all I +wanted to say, and now I'll be stepping homeward." + +"I'll be obligated to you to go at once--the sooner the better." + +"And I'll never speak to you again in this world, Griselda; nor in the +next world either, unless you mend your manners. Mind that!" + +"You are just full of envy, and all uncharitableness, and evil +speaking, Janet Binnie. But I trust I have more of the grace of God +about me than to return your ill words." + +"That may be. It only shows folk that the grace of God will bide with +an old woman that no one else can bide with." + +"Old woman! I am twenty years younger--" + +But Janet had passed out of the room and clashed the shop door behind +her with a pealing ring; so Griselda's little scream of indignation +never reached her. It is likely, however, she anticipated the words +that followed her, for she went down the street, folding her shawl over +her ample chest, and smiling the smile of those who have thrown the +last word of offence. + +She did not reach home until quite dark, for she was stopped frequently +by little groups of the wives and maids of Pittendurie, who wanted to +hear the news about Sophy. It pleased Janet, for some reason, to +magnify the girl's position and all the fine things it had brought her. +Perhaps, because she felt dimly that it placed Andrew's defeat in a +better Tight. No one could expect a mere fisherman to have any chance +against a man able to shower silks and satins and gold and jewels upon +his bride, and who could take her to France and Italy and Germany, not +to speak of Asia and America. + +But if this was her motive, it was a bit of motherhood thrown away. +Andrew had sources of comfort and vindication which looked far beyond +all petty social opinion. He was on the sea alone till nearly dark; +then he came home, with the old grave smile on his face, saying, as he +entered the house, "There will be a heavy blow from the northeast +to-night, Christina. I see the boats are all at anchor, and no prospect +of a fishing." + +"Ay, and I saw the birds, who know more than we do, making for the +rocks. I wish mother would come,"--and she opened the door and looked +out into the dark vacancy. "There is a voice in the sea to-night, +Andrew, and I don't like the wail of it." + +But Andrew had gone to his room, and so she left the door open until +Janet returned. And the first question Janet asked was concerning +Andrew. "Has he come home yet, Christina? I'm feared for a boat on the +sea to-night." + +"He is home, and I think he has fallen asleep. He looked very tired." + +"How is he taking his trouble?" + +"Like a man. Like himself. He has had his wrestle out on the sea, and +has come out with a victory." + +"The Lord be thanked! Now, Christina, I have heard everything about +that wicked lassie. Let us have a cup of tea and a herring--for it is +little good I had of Griselda's wishy-washy brew--and then I'll tell +you the news of the wedding, the beginning and the end of it." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WHERE IS MY MONEY? + + +In the morning it was still more evident that Andrew had thrown himself +on God, and--unperplext seeking, had found him. But Janet wondered a +little that he did not more demonstratively seek the comfort of The +Book. It was her way in sorrow to appeal immediately to its known +passages of promise and comfort, and she laid it open in his way with +the remark: + +"There is the Bible. Andrew; it will have a word, no doubt, for you." + +"And there is the something beyond the Bible, Mother, if you will be +seeking it. When the Lord God speaks to a man, he has the perfection of +counsel, and he will not be requiring the word of a prophet or an +apostle. From the heart of The Unseen a voice calls to him, and gives +him patience under suffering. I _know_, for I have heard and answered +it." Then he walked to the door, and opening it, he stood there +repeating to himself, as he looked over the waters which had been the +field of his conflict and his victory:-- + + "But peace they have that none may gain that live; + And rest about them that no love can give + And over them, while death and life shall be, + The light and sound and darkness of the Sea." + +It was a verse that meant more to Andrew than he would have been able +to explain. He only knew that it led him somehow through those dim, +obscure pathways of spiritual life, on which the light of common day +does not shine. And as he stood there, his mother and sister felt +vaguely that they knew what "moral beauty" meant, and were the better +for the knowledge. + +He did not try to forget Sophy; he only placed her beyond his own +horizon; and whereas he had once thought of her with personal hope and +desire, he now remembered her only with a prayer for her happiness, or +if by chance his tongue spoke her name, he added a blessing with it. +Never did he make a complaint of her desertion, but he wept inwardly; +and it was easy to see that he spent many of those hours that make the +heart grey, though they leave the hair untouched. And it was at this +time he contracted the habit of frequently looking up, finding in the +very act that sense of strength and help and adoration which is +inseparable to it. And thus, day by day, he overcame the aching sorrow +of his heart, for no man is ever crushed from without; if he is abased +to despair, his ruin has come from within. + +About three weeks after Sophy's marriage, Christina was standing one +evening at the gloaming, looking over the immense, cheerless waste of +waters. Mists, vague and troublous as the background of dreams, were on +the horizon, and there Was a feeling of melancholy in the air. But she +liked the damp, fresh wind, with its taste of brine, and she drew her +plaid round her, and breathed it with a sense of enjoyment. Very soon +Andrew came up the cliff, and he stood at her side, and they spoke of +Jamie and wondered at his whereabouts, and after a little pause, Andrew +added:-- + +"Christina, I got a very important letter to-day, and I am going +to-morrow about the business I told you of. I want to start early in +the morning, so put up what I need in my little bag. And I wish you to +say nothing to mother until all things are settled." + +"She will maybe ask me the question, Andrew." + +"I told her I was going about a new boat, and she took me at my word +without this or that to it. She is a blithe creature, one of the Lord's +most contented bairns. I wish we were both more like her." + +"I wish we were, Andrew. If we could just do as mother does! for she +leaves yesterday where it fell, and trusts to-morrow with God, and so +catches every blink of happiness that passes by her." + +"God forever bless her! There is no mother like the mother that bore +us; we must aye remember that, Christina. But it is a dour, storm-like +sky yon," he continued, pointing eastward. "We shall have a snoring +breeze before midnight." + +Then Christina thought of her lover again, and as they turned in to the +fireside, she began to tell her brother her hopes and fears about +Jamie, and to read him portions of a letter received that day from +America. While Andrew's trouble had been fresh and heavy on him, +Christina had refrained herself from all speech about her lover; she +felt instinctively that it would not be welcome and perhaps hardly +kind. But this night it fell out naturally, and Andrew listened kindly +and made his sister very happy by his interest in all that related to +Jamie's future. Then he ate some bread and cheese with the women, and +after the exercise went to his room, for he had many things to prepare +for his journey on the following day. + +Janet continued the conversation. It related to her daughter's marriage +and settlement in Glasgow, and of this subject she never wearied. + +The storm Andrew had foreseen was by this time raging round the +cottage, the Clustering waves making strange noises on the sands and +falling on the rocks with a keen, lashing sound It affected them +gradually; their hearts became troubled, and they spoke low and with +sad inflections, for both were thinking of the sailor-men and fishermen +peopling the lonely waters. + +"I wouldn't put out to sea this night," said Janet. "No, not for a +capful of sovereigns." + +"Yet there will be plenty of boats, hammering through the big waves all +night long, till the dawn shows in the east; and it is very like that +Jamie is now on the Atlantic--a stormy place, God knows!" + +"A good passage, if it so pleases God!" said Janet, lifting her eyes to +heaven, and Christina looked kindly at her mother for the wish. But +talking was fast becoming difficult, for the wind had suddenly veered +more northerly, and, sleet-laden, it howled and shrieked down the wide +chimney. In one of the pauses forced on them by this blatant intruder, +they were startled by a human cry, loud and piercing, and quite +distinct from the turbulent roar of winds and waves. + +Both women were on their feet on the instant Both had received the same +swift, positive impression, that it came from Andrew's room, and they +were at his door in a moment. It was locked. They called him, and he +made no answer. Again and again, with ever increasing terror, they +entreated him to open to them; for the door was solid and heavy, and +the lock large and strong, and no power they possessed could avail to +force an entrance. He heeded none of, their passionate prayers until +Janet began to cry bitterly. Then he turned the key and they entered. + +Andrew looked at them with anger; his countenance was pale and +distraught, and a quiet fury burned in his eyes. He could not speak, +and the women regarded him with fear and wonder. Presently he managed +to articulate with a thick difficulty:-- + +"My money! My money! It is all gone!" + +"Gone!" shrieked Christina, "that is just impossible." + +"It is all gone!" Then he gripped her cruelly by the shoulder, and +asked in a fierce whisper: + +"What did you do with it?" + +"Me? Andrew!" + +"Ay, you! You wicked lass, you!" + +"I never put finger on it" + +"Christina! Christina! To think that I trusted you for this! Go out of +my sight, will you! I'm not able to bear the face of you!" + +"Andrew! Andrew! Surely, you are not calling me a 'thief'?" + +"Who, then?" he cried, with gathering rage, "unless it be Jamie Logan?" + +"Don't be so wicked as to wrong innocent folk such a way; Jamie never +saw, never heard tell of your money. The unborn babe is not more +guiltless than Jamie Logan." + +"How do _you_ know that? How do _I_ know that? The very night I told +you of the money--that very night I showed you where I kept it--that +night Jamie ought to have been in the boats, and he was not in them. +What do you make of that?" + +"Nothing. He is as innocent as I am." + +"And he was drinking with some strange man at the public. What were +they up to? Tell me that. And then he comes whistling up the road, and +says he missed his boat. A made up story! and after it he goes off to +America! Oh. woman! woman! If you can't put facts together. I can." + +"Jamie never touched a bawbee of your money. I'll ware my life on that. +For I never let on to any mortal creature that you had a penny of +silent money. God Almighty knows I am speaking the truth." + +"You won't dare to bring God Almighty's name into such a black +business. Are you not feared to take it into your mouth?" + +Then Janet laid her hand heavily on his shoulder. He had sat down on +his bed, and was leaning heavily against one of the posts, and the very +fashion of his countenance was changed; his hair stood upright, and he +continually smote his large, nervous hands together. + +"Andrew," said his mother, angrily, "you are just giving yourself up to +Satan. Your passion is beyond seeing, or hearing tell of. And think +shame of yourself for calling your sister a 'thief and a 'liar' and +what not. I wonder what's come over you! Step ben the house, and talk +reasonable to us." + +"Leave me to myself! Leave me to myself! I tell you both to go away. +Will you go? both of you?" + +"I'm your mother, Andrew." + +"Then for God's sake have pity on me, and leave me alone with my +sorrow! Go! Go! I'm not a responsible creature just now--" and his +passion was so stern and terrific that neither of them dared to face +any increase of it. + +So they left him alone and went back to the sputtering fireside--for +the rain was now beating down the chimney--and in awe-struck whispers +Christina told her mother of the money which Andrew had hoarded through +long laborious years, and of the plans which the loss of it would break +to pieces. + +"There would be a thousand pounds, or near by it. Mother, I'm +thinking," said Christina. "You know well how scrimping with himself he +has been. Good fishing or bad fishing, he never had a shilling to spend +on any one. He bought nothing other boys bought; when he was a laddie, +and when he grew to the boats, you may mind that he put all he made +away somewhere. And he made a deal more than folks thought. He had a +bit venture here, and a bit there, and they must have prospered +finely." + +"Not they!" said Janet angrily. "What good has come of them? What good +_could_ come of money, hid away from everybody but himself? Why didn't +he tell his mother? If her thoughts had been round about his siller, it +would not have gone an ill road. A man who hides away his money is just +a miracle of stupidity, for the devil knows where it is if no decent +human soul does." + +It was a mighty sorrow to bear, even for the two women, and Janet wept +like a child over the hopes blasted before she knew of them. "He should +have told us both long since," she sobbed. "I would have been praying +for the bonnie ship building for him, every plank would have been laid +with a blessing. And as I sat quiet in my house, I would have been +thinking of my son Captain Binnie, and many a day would have been a +bright day, that has been but a middling one. So selfish as the lad has +been!" + +"Maybe it wasn't pure selfishness, Mother. He was saving for a good +end." + +"It was pure selfishness! He was that way even about Sophy. Nobody but +himself must have word or look from her, and the lassie just wearied of +him. Why wouldn't she? He put himself and her in a circle, and then +made a wilderness all round about it. And Sophy wanted company, for +when a girl says 'a man is all the world to her,' she doesn't mean that +nobody else is to come into her world. She would be a wicked lass if +she did." + +"Well, Mother, he lost her, and he bore his loss like a man." + +"Ay, men often bear the loss of love easier than the loss of money. +I've seen far more fuss made over the loss of a set of fishing-nets, +than over the brave fellows that handled them. And to think of our +Andrew hiding away his gold all these years for his own hoping and +pleasuring! A perfectly selfish pleasuring! The gold might well take +wings to itself and fly away. He should have clipped the wings of it +with giving a piece to the kirk now and then, and a piece to his mother +and sister at odd times, and the flying wouldn't have been so easy. Now +he has lost the whole, and he well deserves it I'm thinking his Maker +is dourly angry with him for such ways, and I am angry myself." + +"Ah well, Mother, there is no use in our anger; the lad is suffering +enough, and for the rest we must just leave him to the general mercy of +God." + +"'General mercy of God.' Don't let me hear you use the like of such +words, Christina. The minister would tell you it is a very loose +expression and a very dangerous doctrine. He was reproving Elder +McInnes for them very words, and any good minister will be keeping his +thumb on such a wide outgate. Andrew knows well that he has to have the +particular and elected grace of God to keep him where he ought to be. +This hid-away money has given him a sore tumble, and I will tell him so +very plainly." + +"Don't trouble him, Mother. He will not bear words on it, even from +you." + +"He will have to bear them. I am not feared for Andrew Binnie, and he +shall not be left in ignorance of his sin. Whether he knows it or not, +he has done a deed that would make a very poor kind of a Christian +ashamed to look the devil in the face; and I be to let him know it." + +But in the morning Andrew looked so utterly wretched, that Janet could +only pity him. "I'll not be the one to break the bruised reed," she +said to Christina, for the miserable man sat silent with dropped eyes +the whole day long, eating nothing, seeing nothing, and apparently lost +to all interests outside his own bewildering, utterly hopeless +speculations. It was not until another letter came about the ship he +was to command, that he roused himself sufficiently to write and cancel +the whole transaction. He could not keep his promises financially, and +though he was urged to make some other offer, he would have nothing +from The Fleet on any humbler basis than his first proposition. With a +foolish pride, born of his great disappointment and anger, he turned +his back on his broken hopes, and went sullen and sorrowful back to his +fishing-boat. + +He had never been even in his family a very social man. Jokes and songs +and daffing of all kinds were alien to his nature. Yet his grave and +pleasant smile had been a familiar thing, and gentle words had always +hitherto come readily to his lips. But after his ruinous loss, he +seldom spoke unless it was to his mother. Christina he noticed not, +either by word or look, and the poor girl was broken-hearted under this +silent accusation. For she felt that Andrew doubted both her and Jamie, +and though she was indignant at the suspicion, it eat its way into her +heart and tortured her. + +For put the thought away as she would, the fact of Jamie's dereliction +that unfortunate night would return and return, and always with a more +suspicious aspect. Who was the man he was drinking with? Nobody in the +village but Jamie, knew him. He had come and gone in a night. It was +possible that, having missed the boat, Jamie had brought his friend up +the cliff to call on her; that, seeing the light in Andrew's room, they +had looked in at the window, and so might have seen Andrew and herself +standing over the money, and then watched until it was returned to its +hiding-place. Jamie _had_ come whistling in a very pronounced manner up +to the house--that might have been because he had been drinking, and +then again, it might not--and then there was his quarrel with Andrew! +Was that a planned affair, in order to give the other man time to carry +off the box? She could not remember whether the curtain had been drawn +across the window or not; and when she dared to name this doubt to +Andrew, he only answered-- + +"What for are you asking after spilled milk?" + +The whole circumstance was so mysterious that it stupified her. And yet +she felt that it contained all the elements of sorrow and separation +between Jamie and herself. However, she kept assuring her heart that +Jamie would be in Glasgow the following week; and she wrote a letter to +meet him, expressing a strong desire that he would "be sure to come to +Pittendurie, as there was most important business." But she did not +like to tell him what the business was, and Jamie did not answer the +request. In fact, the lad could not, without resigning his position +entirely. The ship had been delayed thirty hours by storms, and there +was nearly double tides of work for every man on her in order that she +might be able to keep her next sailing day. Jamie was therefore so +certain that a request to go on shore about his own concerns would be +denied, that he did not even ask the favour. + +But he wrote to Christina, and explained to her in the most loving +manner the impossibility of his leaving his duties. He said "that for +her sake, as well as his own, he was obligated to remain at his post," +and he assured her that this obligation was "a reasonable one." +Christina believed him fully, and was satisfied, her mother only smiled +with shut lips and remained silent; but Andrew spoke with a bitterness +it was hard to forgive; still harder was it to escape from the wretched +inferences his words implied. + +"No wonder he keeps away from Pittendurie!" he said with a scornful +laugh. "He'll come here no more--unless he is made to come, and if it +was not for mother's sake, and for your good name, Christina, I would +send the constables to the ship to bring him here this very day." + +And Christina could make no answer, save that of passionate weeping. +For it shocked her to see, that her mother did not stand up for Jamie, +but went silently about her house duties, with a face as inscrutable as +the figure-head of Andrew's boat. + +Thus backward, every way flew the wheels of life in the Binnie cottage. +Andrew took a grim pleasure in accepting his poverty before his mother +and sister. In the home he made them feel that everything but the +barest necessities were impossible wants. His newspaper was resigned, +his pipe also, after a little struggle He took his tea without sugar, +he put the butter and marmalade aside, as if they were sinful luxuries, +and in fact reduced his life to the most essential and primitive +conditions it was possible to live it on. And as Janet and Christina +were not the bread winners, and did not know the exact state of the +Binnie finances, they felt obliged to follow Andrew's example. Of +course, all Christina's little extravagances of wedding preparations +were peremptorily stopped. There would be no silk wedding gown now. It +began to look, as if there would be no wedding at all. + +For Andrew's continual suspicions, spoken and unspoken, insensibly +affected her, and that in spite of her angry denials of them. She +fought against their influence, but often in vain, for Jamie did not +come to Pittendurie either after the second or the third voyage. He was +not to blame; it was the winter season, and delays were constant, and +there were other circumstances--with which he had nothing whatever to +do--that still put him in such a position that to ask for leave of +absence meant asking for his dismissal. And then there would be no +prospect at all of his marriage with Christina. + +But the fisher folk, who had their time very much at their own command +and who were nursed in a sense of every individual's independence, did +not realise Jamie's dilemma. It could not be made intelligent to them, +and they began to wonder, and to ask embarrassing questions. Very soon +there was a shake of the head and a sigh of pity whenever "poor +Christina Binnie" was mentioned. + +So four wretched months went by, and then one moonlight night in +February, Christina heard the quick footstep and the joyous whistle she +knew so well. She stood up trembling with pleasure; and as Jamie flung +wide the door, she flew to his arms with an irrepressible cry. For some +minutes he saw nothing and cared for nothing but the girl clasped to +his breast; but as she began to sob, he looked at Janet--who had +purposely gone to the china rack that she might have her back to +him--and then at Andrew who stood white and stern, with both hands in +his pockets, regarding him. + +The young man was confounded by this reception, he released himself +from Christina's embrace, and stepping forward, asked anxiously "What +ever is the matter with you, Andrew? You aren't like yourself at all. +Why, you are ill, man! Oh, but I'm vexed to see you so changed." + +"Where is my money, James Logan? Where is the gold and the bank-notes +you took from me?--the savings of all my lifetime." + +"Your money, Andrew? Your gold and bank-notes? _Me_ take your money! +Why, man, you are either mad or joking--and I'm not liking such jokes +either." Then he turned to Christina and asked, "What does he mean, my +dearie?" + +"I mean this," cried Andrew with gathering passion, "I mean that I had +nearly a thousand pounds taken out of my room yon night that you should +have gone to the boats--and that you did _not_ go." + +"Do you intend to say that I took your thousand pounds? Mind your +words, Andrew Binnie!" and as he spoke, he put Christina behind him and +stood squarely before Andrew. And his face was a flame of passion. + +"I am most sure you took it. Prove to me that you did not." + +Before the words were finished, they were answered with a blow, the +blow was promptly returned; and then the two men closed in a deadly +struggle. Christina was white and sick with terror, but withal glad +that Andrew had found himself so promptly answered. Janet turned +sharply at the first blow, and threw herself between the men. All the +old prowess of the fish-wife was roused in her. + +"How dare you?" she cried in a temper quite equal to their own. "I'll +have no cursing and fighting in my house," and with a twist of her hand +in her son's collar, she threw him back in his chair. Then she turned +to Jamie and cried angrily-- + +"Jamie Logan, my bonnie lad, if you have got nothing to say for +yourself, you'll do well to take your way down the cliff." + +"I have been called a 'thief' in this house," he answered; and wounded +feeling and a bitter sense of wrong made his voice tremble. "I came +here to kiss my bride; and I know nothing at all of what Andrew means. +I will swear it. Give me the Bible." + +"Let my Bible alone," shouted Andrew. "I'll have no man swear to a lie +on my Bible. Get out of my house, James Logan, and be thankful that I +don't call the officers to take care of you." + +"There is a mad man inside of you, Andrew Binnie, or a devil of some +kind, and you are not fit to be in the same house with good women. Come +with me, Christina. I'll marry you tonight at the Largo minister's +house. Come my dear lassie. Never mind aught you have, but your +plaidie." + +Christina rose and put out her hand. Andrew leaped to his feet and +strode between them. + +"I will strike you to the ground, if you dare to touch my sister +again," he shouted, and if Janet had not taken both his hands in her +own strong grip, Andrew would have kept his threat. Then Janet's anger +turned most unreasonably upon Christina-- + +"Go ben the house," she screamed. "Go ben the house, you worrying, +whimpering lassie. You will be having the whole village fighting about +you the next thing." + +"I am going with Jamie, Mother." + +"I will take very good care, you do _not_ go with Jamie. There is not a +soul, but Jamie Logan, will leave this house tonight. I would just like +to see any other man or woman try it," and she looked defiantly both at +Andrew and Christina. + +"I ran the risk of losing my berth to come here," said Jamie. "More +fool, I. I have been called 'thief' and 'loon' for doing it. I came for +your sake, Christina, and now you must go with me for my sake. Come +away, my dearie, and there is none that shall part us more." + +Again Christina rose, and again her mother interfered. "You will go out +of this house alone, Jamie Logan. I don't know whether you are right or +wrong. I know nothing about that weary siller. But I do know there has +been nothing but trouble to my boy since he saved you from the sea. I +am not saying it is your fault; but the sea has been against him ever +since, and now you will go away, and you will stay away." + +"Christina, am I to go?" + +"Go, Jamie, but I will come to you, and there is none that shall keep +me from you." + +Then Jamie went, and far down on the sands Christina heard him call, +"Good-bye, Christina! Good-bye!" And she would have answered him, but +Janet had locked the door, and the key was in her pocket. Then for +hours the domestic storm raged, Andrew growing more and more positive +and passionate, until even Janet was alarmed, and with tears and +coaxing persuaded him to go to bed. Still in this hurly burly of +temper, Christina kept her purpose intact. She was determined to go to +Glasgow as soon as she could get outside. If she was in time for a +marriage with Jamie, she would be his wife at once. If Jamie had gone, +then she would hire herself out until the return of his ship. + +This was the purpose she intended to carry out in the morning, but +before the dawn her mother awakened her out of a deep sleep. She was in +a sweat of terror. + +"Run up the cliff for Thomas Roy," she cried, "and then send Sandy for +the doctor." + +"What is the matter, Mother." + +"Your brother Andrew is raving, and clean beyond himself, and I'm +feared for him, and for us all. Quick Christina! There is not a moment +to lose!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE BEGINNING OF THE END + + +On this same night the Mistress of Braelands sat musing by the glowing +bit of fire in her bedroom, while her maid, Allister, was folding away +her silk dinner-gown, and making the preparations for the night's +toilet. She was a stately, stern-looking woman, with that air of +authority which comes from long and recognised position. Her +dressing-gown of pale blue flannel fell amply around her tall form; her +white hair was still coiled and puffed in an elaborate fashion, and +there was at the wrist-bands of her sleeves a fall of lace which half +covered her long, shapely white hands. She was pinching its plaits +mechanically, and watching the effect as she idly turned them in the +firelight to catch the gleam of opal and amethyst rings. But this +accompaniment to her thoughts was hardly a conscious one; she had +admired her hands for so many years that she was very apt to give to +their beauty this homage of involuntary observation, even when her +thoughts were fixed on subjects far-off and alien to them. + +"Allister," she said, suddenly, "I wonder where Mr. Archibald will be +this night." + +"The Lord knows, Madame, and it is well he does; for it is little we +know of ourselves and the ways we walk in." + +"The Lord looks after his own, Allister, and Mr. Archibald was given to +him by kirk and parents before he was a month old. But if a man marries +such a woman as you know nothing about, and then goes her ways, what +will you say then?" + +"It is not as bad as that, Madame. Mrs. Archibald is of well-known +people, though poor." + +"Though low-born, Allister. Poverty can be tholed, and even respected; +but for low birth there is no remedy but being born over again." + +"Well, Madame, she is Braelands now, and that is a cloak to cover all +defects; and if I was you I would just see that it did so." + +"She is my son's wife, and must be held as such, both by gentle and +simple." + +"And there is few ills that have not a good side to them, Madame. If +Mr. Archibald had married Miss Roberta Elgin, as you once feared he +would do, there would have been a flitting for you and for me, Madame. +Miss Roberta would have had the whole of Braelands House to herself, +and the twenty-two rooms of it wouldn't have been enough for her. And +she would have taken the Braelands's honour and glory on her own +shoulders. It would have been 'Mrs. Archibald Braelands' here and there +and everywhere, and you would have been pushed out of sight and +hearing, and passed by altogether, like as not; for if youth and beauty +and wealth and good blood set themselves to have things their own way, +which way at all will age that is not rich keep for itself? Sure as +death, Madame, you would have had to go to the Dower House, which is +but a mean little place, though big enough, no doubt, for all the +friends and acquaintances that would have troubled themselves to know +you there." + +"You are not complimentary, Allister. I think I have few friends who +would _not_ have followed me to the Dower House." + +"Surely, Madame, you may as well think so. But carriages aye stop at +big houses; indeed, the very coachmen and footmen and horses are dead +set against calling at cottages. There is many a lady who would be +feared to ask her coachman to call at the Dower House. But what for am +I talking? There is no occasion to think that Mrs. Archibald will ever +dream of sending you out of his house." + +"I came here a bride, nearly forty years ago, Allister," she said, with +a touch of sentimental pity for herself in the remembrance. + +"So you have had a long lease, Madame, and one like to be longer; for +never a better son than your son; and I do think for sure that the lady +he has married will be as biddable as a very child with you." + +"I hope so. For she will have everything to learn about society, and +who can teach her better than I can, Allister?" + +"No one, Madame; and Mrs. Archibald was ever good at the uptake. I am +very sure if you will show her this and that, and give her the word +here and there yourself, Madame, there will be no finer lady in Fife +before the year has come and gone. And she cannot be travelling with +Mr. Archibald without learning many a thing all the winter long." + +"Yes, they will not be home before the spring, I hear." + +"And oh, Madame, by that date you will have forgot that all was not as +you wanted it! And no doubt you will give the young things the loving +welcome they are certain to be longing for." + +"I do not know, Allister. The marriage was a great sorrow, and shame, +and disappointment to me. I am not sure that I have forgiven it." + +"Lady Beith was saying you never would forgive it. She was saying that +you could never forgive any one's faults but your own." + +"Lady Beith is very impertinent. And pray what faults has Lady Beith +ever seen in me?" + +"It was her general way of speaking, Madame. She has that way." + +"Then you might tell Lady Beith's woman, that such general ways of +speaking are extremely vulgar. When her ladyship speaks of the Mistress +of Braelands again, I will ask her to refer to me, particularly. I have +my own virtues as well as my own faults, and my own position, and my +own influence, and I do not go into the generalities of life. I am the +Mistress of Braelands yet, I hope." + +"I hope so, Madame. As I was saying, Mrs. Archibald is biddable as a +child; but then again, she is quite capable of taking the rudder into +her own hands, and driving in the teeth of the wind. You can't ever be +sure of fisher blood. It is like the ocean, whiles calm as a sleeping +baby, whiles lashing itself into a very fury. There is both this and +that in the Traills, and Mrs. Archibald is one of them." + +"Any way and every way, this marriage is a great sorrow to me." + +"I am not disputing that, Madame; but I am sure you remember what the +minister was saying to you at his last visitation--that every sorrow +you got the mastery over was a benefactor." + +"The minister is not always orthodox, Allister." + +"He is a very good man; every one is saying that." + +"No doubt, no doubt, but he deviates." + +"Well then, Madame, even if the marriage be as bad as you fancy it, bad +things as well as good ones come to an end, and life, after all, is +like a bit of poetry I picked up somewhere, which says: + +There's nane exempt frae worldly cares + And few frae some domestic jars +Whyles _all_ are in, whyles _all_ are out, + And grief and joy come turn about. + +And it's the turn now for the young people to be happy. Cold and bleak +it is here on the Fife coast, but they are among roses and sunshine and +so God bless them, I say, and keep us and every one from cutting short +their turn of happiness. You had your bride time, Madame, and when +Angus McAllister first took me to his cottage in Strathmoyer, I thought +I was on a visit to Paradise." + +"Give me my glass of negus, and then I will go to bed. Everybody has +taken to preaching and advising lately, and that is not the kind of +fore-talk that spares after-talk--not it, Allister." + +She sunk then into unapproachable silence, and Allister knew that she +needed not try to move her further that night in any direction. Her +eyes were fixed upon the red coals, but she was really thinking of the +roses and sunshine of the South, and picturing to herself her son and +his bride, wandering happily amid the warmth and beauty. + +In reality, they were crossing the Braelands's moor at that very moment +The rain was beating against the closed windows of their coach, and the +horses floundering heavily along the boggy road. Sophy's head rested on +her husband's shoulder, but they were not talking, nor had they spoken +for some time. Both indeed were tired and depressed, and Archie at +least was unpleasantly conscious of the wonderment their unexpected +return would cause. + +The end of April or the beginning of May had been the time appointed, +and yet here they were, at the threshold of their home, in the middle +of the winter. Sophy's frail health had been Archie's excuse for a +season in the South with her; and she was coming back to Scotland when +the weather was at its very bleakest and coldest. One excuse after +another formed itself in Archie's mind, only to be peremptorily +dismissed. "It is no one's business but our own," he kept assuring +himself, "and I will give neither reason nor apology but my wife's +desire." and yet he knew that reasons and apologies would be asked, and +he was fretting inwardly at their necessity, and wondering vaguely if +women ever did know what they really wanted. + +For to go to France and Germany and Italy, had seemed to Sophy the very +essence of every joy in life. Before her marriage, she had sat by +Archie's side hour after hour, listening to his descriptions of foreign +lands, and dreaming of all the delights that were to meet her in them. +She had started on this bridal trip with all her senses set to an +unnatural key of expectation, and she had, of course, suffered +continual disappointments and disillusions. The small frets and +sicknesses of travel, the loneliness of being in places where she could +not speak even to her servants, or go shopping without an attendant, +the continual presence of what was strange--of what wounded her +prejudices and very often her conscience,--and the constant absence +of all that was familiar and approved, were in themselves no slight +cause of unhappiness. + +Yet it had been a very gradual disillusion, and one mitigated by many +experiences that had fully justified even Sophy's extravagant +anticipations. The trouble, in the main, was one common to a great +majority of travellers for pleasure--a mind totally unprepared for +the experience. + +She grew weary of great cities which had no individual character or +history in her mind; weary of fine hotels in which she was of no +special importance; weary of art which had no meaning for her. Her +child-like enthusiasms, which at first both delighted and embarrassed +her husband, faded gradually away; the present not only lost its charm, +but she began to look backward to the homely airs and scenes of Fife, +and to suffer from a nostalgia that grew worse continually. + +However, Archie bore her unreasonable depression with great +consideration. She was but a frail child after all, and she was in a +condition of health demanding the most affectionate patience and +tenderness he could give her. Besides, it was no great sin in his eyes +to be sick with longing for dear old Scotland. He loved his native +land; and his little mountain blue-bell, trembling in every breeze, and +drooping in every hour of heat and sunshine, appealed to the very best +instincts of his nature. And when Sophy began to voice her longing, to +cry a little in his arms, and to say she was wearying for a sight of +the great grey sea round her Fife home, Archie vowed he was homesick as +a man could be, and asked, "why they should stop away from their own +dear land any longer?" + +"People will wonder and talk so, Archie They will say unkind things-- +they will maybe say we are not happy together." + +"Let them talk. What care we? And we are happy together. Do you want to +go back to Scotland tomorrow? today--this very hour?" + +"Aye. I do, Archie. And I am that weak and poorly, if I don't go soon, +maybe I will have to wait a long time, and then you know" + +"Yes, I know. And that would never, never do. Braelands of Fife cannot +run the risk of having his heir born in a foreign country. Why, it +would be thrown up to the child, lad and man, as long as he lived! So +call your maid, my bonnie Sophy, and set her to packing all your braws +and pretty things, and we will turn our faces to Scotland's hills and +braes tomorrow morning." + +Thus it happened that on that bleak night in February, Archie Braelands +and his wife came suddenly to their home amid the stormy winds and +rains of a stormy night. Madame heard the wheels of their carriage as +she sat sipping her negus, and thinking over her conversation with +Allister and her alert soul instantly divined _who_ the late comers +were. + +"Give me my silk morning gown and my brocade petticoat, Allister," she +cried, as she rose up hastily and set down her glass. "Mr. Archibald +has come home; his carriage is at the door--haste ye, woman!" + +"Will you be heeding your silks to-night, Madame?" + +"Get them at once. Quick! Do you think I will meet the bride in a +flannel dressing-gown? No, no! I am not going to lose ground the first +hour." + +With nervous haste the richer garments were donned, and just as the +final gold brooch was clasped, Archie knocked at his mother's door. She +opened to him with her own hands, and took him to her heart with an +effusive affection she rarely permitted herself to exhibit. + +"I am so glad that you are dressed, Mother," he said. "Sophy must not +miss your welcome, and the poor little woman is just weary to death." +Then he whispered some words to her, which brought a flush of pride and +joy to his own face, but no such answering response to Madame's. + +"Indeed," she replied, "I am sorry she is so tired. It seems to me, +that the women of this generation are but weak creatures." + +Then she took her son's arm, and went down to the parlour, where +servants were re-kindling the fire, and setting a table with +refreshments for the unexpected guests. Sophy was resting on a sofa +drawn towards the hearth. Archie had thrown his travelling cloak of +black fox over her, and her white, flower-like face, surrounded by the +black fur, had a singularly pathetic beauty. She opened her large blue +eyes as Madame approached and looked at her with wistful entreaty; and +Madame, in spite of all her pre-arrangements of conduct, was unable at +that hour not to answer the appeal for affection she saw in them. She +stooped and kissed the childlike little woman, and Archie watched this +token of reconciliation and promise with eyes wet with happiness. + +When supper was served, Madame took her usual place at the head of the +table, and Archie noticed the circumstance, though it did not seem a +proper time to make any remark about it. For Sophy was not able to eat, +and did not rise from her couch; and Madame seemed to fall so properly +into her character of hostess, that it would have been churlish to have +made the slightest dissent. Yet it was a false kindness to both; for in +the morning Madame took the same position, and Archie felt less able +than on the previous night to make any opposition, though he had told +himself continually on his homeward journey that he would not suffer +Sophy to be imposed upon, and would demand for her the utmost title of +her rights as his wife. + +In this resolve, however, he had forgot to take into account his +mother's long and absolute influence over him. When she was absent, it +was comparatively easy to relegate her to the position she ought to +occupy; when she was present, he found it impossible to say or do +anything which made her less than Mistress of Braelands. And during the +first few weeks after her return, Sophy helped her mother-in-law +considerably against herself. She was so anxious to please, so anxious +to be loved, so afraid of making trouble for Archie, that she submitted +without protest to one infringement after another on her rights as the +wife of the Master of Braelands. All the same she was dumbly conscious +of the wrong being done to her; and like a child, she nursed her sense +of the injustice until it showed itself in a continual mood of sullen, +silent protest. + +After the lapse of a month or more, she became aware that even her ill +health was used as a weapon against her, and she suddenly resolved to +throw off her lassitude, and assert her right to go out and call upon +her friends. But she was petulant and foolish in the carrying out of +the measure. She had made up her mind to visit her aunt on the +following day, and though the weather was bitterly cold and damp, she +adhered to her resolution. Madame, at first politely, finally with +provoking positiveness, told her "she would not permit her to risk her +life, and a life still more precious, for any such folly." + +Then Sophy rose, with a sudden excitement of manner, and rang the bell. +When the servant appeared, she ordered the carriage to be ready for her +in half an hour. Madame waited until they were alone, and then said: + +"Sophy, go to your room and lie down. You are not fit to go out. I +shall counter-order the carriage in your name." + +"You will not," cried the trembling, passionate girl. "You have ordered +and counter-ordered in my name too much. You will, in the future, mind +your own affairs, and leave me to attend to mine." + +"When Archie comes back" + +"You will tell him all kinds of lies. I know that." + +"I do not lie." + +"Perhaps not; but you misrepresent things so, that you make it +impossible for Archie to get at the truth. I want to see my aunt. You +have kept me from her, and kept her from me, until I am sick for a +sight of those who _really_ love me. I am going to Aunt Kilgour's this +very morning, whether you like it or not." + +"You shall not leave this house until Archie comes back from Largo. I +will not take the responsibility." + +"We shall see. _I_ will take the responsibility myself. _I_ am mistress +of Braelands. You will please remember that fact. And I know my rights, +though I have allowed you to take them from me." + +"Sophy, listen to me." + +"I am going to Aunt Kilgour's." + +"Archie will be very angry." + +"Not if you will let him judge for himself. Anyway, I don't care. I am +going to see my aunt! You expect Archie to be always thinking of +feelings, and your likes and dislikes. I have just as good a right to +care about my aunt's feelings. She was all the same as mother to me. I +have been a wicked lassie not to have gone to her lang syne." + +"Wicked lassie! Lang syne! I wish you would at least try to speak like +a lady." + +"I am not a lady. I am just one of God's fisher folk. I want to see my +own kith and kin. I am going to do so." + +"You are not--until your husband gives you permission." + +"Permission! do you say? I will go on my own permission, Sophy +Braelands's permission." + +"It is a shame to take the horses out in such weather--and poor old +Thomas." + +"Shame or not, I shall take them out." + +"Indeed, no! I cannot permit you to make a fool and a laughing-stock of +yourself." She rang the bell sharply and sent for the coachman When he +appeared, she said: + +"Thomas, I think the horses had better not go out this morning. It is +bitterly cold, and there is a storm coming from the northeast. Do you +not think so?" + +"It is a bad day, Madame, and like to be worse." + +"Then we will not go out." + +As Madame uttered the words, Sophy walked rapidly forward. All the +passion of her Viking ancestors was in her face, which had undergone a +sort of transfiguration. Her eyes flashed, her soft curly yellow hair +seemed instinct with a strange life and brilliancy, and she said with +an authority that struck Madame with amazement and fear: + +"Thomas, you will have the carriage at the door in fifteen minutes, +exactly," and she drew out her little jewelled watch, and gave him the +time with a smiling, invincible calmness. + +Thomas looked from one woman to the other, and said, fretfully, "A man +canna tak' twa contrary orders at the same minute o' time. What will I +do in the case?" + +"You will do as I tell you, Thomas," said Madame. "You have done so for +twenty years. Have you come to any scath or wrong by it?" + +"If the carriage is not at the door in fifteen minutes, you will leave +Braelands this night, Thomas," said Sophy. "Listen! I give you fifteen +minutes; after that I shall walk into Largo, and you can answer to your +master for it. I am Mistress of Braelands. Don't forget that fact if +you want to keep your place, Thomas." + +She turned passionately away with the words, and left the room. In +fifteen minutes she went to the front door in her cloak and hood, and +the carriage was waiting there. "You will drive me to my aunt Kilgour's +shop," she said with an air of reckless pride and defiance. It pleased +her at that hour to humble herself to her low estate. And it pleased +Thomas also that she had done so. His sympathy was with the fisher +girl. He was delighted that she had at last found courage to assert +herself, for Sophy's wrongs had been the staple talk of the +kitchen-table and fireside. + +"No born lady I ever saw," he said afterwards to the cook, "could have +held her own better. It will be an even fight between them two now, and +I will bet my shilling on fisherman Traill's girl." + +"Madame has more wit, and more _hold out_" answered the cook. "Mrs. +Archibald is good for a spurt, but I'll be bound she cried her eyes red +at Griselda Kilgour's, and was as weak as a baby." + +This opinion was a perfectly correct one. Once in her aunt's little +back parlour, Sophy gave full sway to her childlike temper. She told +all her wrongs, and was comforted by her kinswoman's interest and pity, +and strengthened in her resolution to resist Madame's interference with +her life. And then the small black teapot was warmed and filled, and +Sophy begged for a herring and a bit of oatcake; and the two women sat +close to one another, and Miss Kilgour told Sophy all the gossip and +clash of gossip there had been about Christina Binnie and her lover, +and how the marriage had been broken off, no one knowing just why, but +many thinking that since Jamie Logan had got a place on "The Line," he +was set on bettering himself with a girl something above the like of +Christina Binnie. + +And as they talked Helen Marr came into the shop for a yard of ribbon, +and said it was the rumour all through Pittendurie, that Andrew Binnie +was all but dead, and folks were laying all the blame upon the Mistress +of Braelands, for that every one knew that Andrew had never held up his +head an hour since her marriage. And though Miss Kilgour did not +encourage this phase of gossip, yet the woman would persist in +describing his sufferings, and the poverty that had come to the Binnies +with the loss of their only bread-winner, and the doctors to pay, and +the medicine folks said they had not the money to buy, and much more of +the same sort, which Sophy heard every word of, knowing also that Helen +Marr must have seen her carriage at the door, and so, knowing of her +presence, had determined that she should hear it. + +Certainly if Helen had wished to wound her to the very heart, she +succeeded. When Miss Kilgour got rid of her customer, and came back to +Sophy, she found her with her face in the pillow, sobbing passionately +about the trouble of her old friends. She did not name Andrew, but the +thought of his love and suffering hurt her sorely, and she could not +endure to think of Janet's and Christina's long hardships and sorrow. +For she knew well how much they would blame her, and the thought of +their anger, and of her own apparent ingratitude, made her sick with +shame and grief. And as they talked of this new trouble, and Sophy sent +messages of love and pity to Janet and Christina, the shop-bell rung +violently, and Sophy heard her husband's step, and in another moment he +was at her side, and quite inclined to be very angry with her for +venturing out in such miserable weather. + +Then Sophy seized her opportunity, and Miss Kilgour left them alone for +the explanation that was better to be made there than at Braelands. And +for once Archie took his wife's part without reservation. He was not +indeed ill-pleased that she had assumed her proper position, and when +he slipped a crown into Thomas's hand, the man also knew that he had +done wisely. Indeed there was something in the coachman's face and air +which affected Madame unpleasantly, before she noticed that Sophy had +returned in her husband's company, and that they were evidently on the +most affectionate terms. + +"I have lost this battle," she said to herself, and she wisely +retreated to her own room, and had a nominal headache, and a very +genuine heartache about the loss. + +All day long Sophy was at an unnatural pitch, all day long she exerted +herself, as she had not done for weeks and months, to entertain and +keep her husband at her side, and all day long her pretty wifely +triumph was bright and unbroken. The very servants took a delight in +ministering to it, and Madame was not missed in a single item of the +household routine. But about midnight there was a great and sudden +change. Bells were frantically rung, lights flew about the house, and +there was saddling of horses and riding in hot haste into Largo for any +or all the doctors that could be found. + +Then Madame came quietly from her seclusion, and resumed her place as +head of the household, for the little mistress of one day lay in her +chamber quite unconscious of her lost authority. Some twelve hours +later, the hoped-for heir of Braelands was born, and died, and Sophy, +on the very outermost shoal of life, felt the wash and murmur of that +dark river which flows to the Eternal Sea. + +It was no time to reproach the poor little wife, and yet Madame did not +scruple to do so. "She had warned Sophy,--she had begged her not to go +out--she had been insulted for endeavouring to prevent what had come to +pass just as she had predicted." And in spite of Archie's love and +pity, her continual regrets did finally influence him. He began to +think he had been badly used, and to agree with Madame in her +assertions that Sophy must be put under some restrictions, and +subjected to some social instruction. + +"The idea of the Braelands's carriage standing two hours at Griselda +Kilgour's shop door! All the town talking about it! Every one wondering +what had happened at Braelands, to drive your wife out of doors in such +weather. All sorts of rumours about you and Sophy, and Griselda shaking +her head and sighing and looking unspeakable things, just to keep the +curiosity alive; and the crowds of gossiping women coming and going to +her shop. Many a cap and bonnet has been sold to your name, Archie, no +doubt, and I can tell you my own cheeks are kept burning with the shame +of the whole affair! And then this morning, the first thing she said to +me was, that she wanted to see her cousins Isobel and Christina." + +"She asked me also about them, Mother, and really, I think she had +better be humoured in this matter. Our friends are not her friends." + +"They ought to be." + +"Let us be just. When has she had any opportunity to make them so? She +has seen no one yet,--her health has been so bad--and it did often +look. Mother, as if you encouraged her _not_ to see callers." + +"Perhaps I did, Archie. You cannot blame me. Her manners are so crude, +so exigent, so effusive. She is so much pleased, or so indifferent +about people; so glad to see them, or else so careless as to how she +treats them. You have no idea what I suffered when Lady Blair called, +and insisted on meeting your wife. Of course she pretended to fall in +love with her, and kissed, and petted, and flattered Sophy, until the +girl hardly knew what she was doing or saying. And as for 'saying,' she +fell into broad Scotch, as she always does when she is pleased or +excited, and Lady Blair professed herself charmed, and talked broad +Scotch back to her. And I? I sat tingling with shame and annoyance, for +I knew right well what mockeries and laughter Sophy was supplying +Annette Blair with for her future visitors." + +"I think you are wrong. Lady Blair is not at all ill-natured. She was +herself a poor minister's daughter, and accustomed to go in and out of +the fishers' cottages. I can imagine that she would really be charmed +with Sophy." + +"You can 'imagine' what you like; that will not alter the real state of +the case; and if Sophy is ever to take her position as your wife, she +must be prepared for it. Besides which, it will be a good thing to give +her some new interests in life, for she must drop the old ones. About +that there cannot be two opinions." + +"What then do you propose, Mother?" + +"I should get proper teachers for her. Her English education has been +frightfully neglected; and she ought to learn music and French." + +"She speaks French pretty well. I never saw any one pick up a language +as cleverly as she did the few weeks we were in Paris." + +"O, she is clever enough if she wants to be! There is a French woman +teaching at Miss Linley's Seminary. She will perfect her. And I have +heard she also plays well. It would be a good thing to engage her for +Sophy, two or three hours a day. A teacher for grammar, history, +writing, etc., is easily found. I myself will give her lessons in +social etiquette, and in all things pertaining to the dignity and +decorum which your wife ought to exhibit. Depend upon it, Archie, this +routine is absolutely necessary. It will interest and occupy her idle +hours, of which she has far too many; and it will wean her better than +any other thing from her low, uncultivated relations." + +"The poor little woman says she wants to be loved; that she is lonely +when I am away; that no one but the servants care for her; that +therefore she wants to see her cousins and kinsfolk." + +"She does me a great injustice. I would love her if she would be +reasonable--if she would only trust me. But idle hearts are lonely +hearts, Archie. Tell her you wish her to study, and fit herself for the +position you have raised her to. Surely the desire to please you ought +to be enough. Do you know _who_ this Christina Binnie is that she talks +so continually about?" + +"Her fourth or fifth cousin, I believe." + +"She is the sister of the man you won Sophy from--the man whom you +struck across the cheek with your whip. Now do you wish her to see +Christina Binnie!" + +"Yes, I do! Do you think I am jealous or fearful of my wife? No, by +Heaven! No! Sophy may be unlearned and unfashionable, but she is loyal +and true, and if she wants to see her old lover and his sister, she has +my full permission. As for the fisherman, he behaved very nobly. And I +did not intend to strike him. It was an accident, and I shall apologise +for it the first opportunity I have to do so." + +"You are a fool, Archie Braelands." + +"I am a husband, who knows his wife's heart and who trusts in it. And +though I think you are quite right in your ideas about Sophy's +education, I do not think you are right in objecting to her seeing her +old friends. Every one in this bound of Fife knows that I married a +fisher-girl. I never intend to be ashamed of the fact. If our social +world will accept her as the representative of my honour and my family, +I shall be obliged to the world. If it will not, I can live without its +approval--having Sophy to love me and live with me. I counted all this +cost before I married; you may be sure of that, Mother." + +"You forgot, however, to take my honour and feelings into your +consideration." + +"I knew, Mother, that you were well able to protect your own honour and +feelings." + +This conversation but indicates the tone of many others which occupied +the hours mother and son passed together during Sophy's convalescence. +And the son, being the weaker character of the two, was insensibly +moved and moulded to all Madame's opinions. Indeed, before Sophy was +well enough to begin the course of study marked out for her, Archie had +become thoroughly convinced that it was his first duty to his wife and +himself to insist upon it. + +The weak, loving woman made no objections. Indeed, Archie's evident +enthusiasm sensibly affected her own desires. She listened with +pleasure to the plans for her education, and promised "as soon as she +was able, to do her very best." + +And there was a strange pathos in the few words "as soon as I am able," +which Archie remembered years afterwards, when it was far too late. At +the moment, they touched him but lightly, but _Oh, afterwards!_ Oh, +afterwards! when memory brought back the vision of the small white face +on the white pillow, and the faint golden light of the golden curls +shadowing the large blue eyes that even then had in them that wide gaze +and wistfulness that marks those predestined for sorrow or early death. +Alas! Alas! We see too late, we hear too late, when it is the dead who +open the eyes and the ears of the living! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A GREAT DELIVERANCE + + +While these clouds of sorrow were slowly gathering in the splendid +house of Braelands, there was a full tide of grief and anxiety in the +humble cottage of the Binnies. The agony of terror which had changed +Janet Binnie's countenance, and sent Christina flying up the cliff for +help, was well warranted by Andrew's condition. The man was in the most +severe maniacal delirium of brain inflammation, and before the dawning +of the next day, required the united strength of two of his mates to +control him. To leave her mother and brother in this extremity would +have been a cruelty beyond the contemplation of Christina Binnie. Its +possibility never entered her mind. All her anger and sense of wrong +vanished before the pitiful sight of the strong man in the throes of +his mental despair and physical agony. She could not quite ignore her +waiting lover, even in such an hour; but she was not a ready writer, so +her words were few and to the point:-- + +DEAR JAMIE--Andrew is ill and like to die, and my place, dear lad, is +here, until some change come. I must stand by mother and Andrew now, +and you yourself would bid me do so. Death is in the house and by the +pillow, and there is only God's mercy to trust to. Andrew is clean off +his senses, and ill to manage, so you will know that he was not in +reason when he spoke so wrong to you, and you will be sorry for him and +forgive the words he said, because he did not know what he was saying; +and now he knows nothing at all, not even his mother. Do not forget to +pray for us in our sorrow, dear Jamie, and I will keep ever a prayer +round about you in case of danger on the sea or on land. Your true, +troth-plighted wife, + +CHRISTINA BINNIE + + +This letter was her last selfish act for many a week. After it had been +written, she put all her own affairs out of her mind and set herself +with heart and soul, by day and by night, to the duty before her. She +suffered no shadow of the bygone to darken her calm strong face or to +weaken the hands and heart from which so much was now expected. And she +continually told herself not to doubt in these dark days the mercy of +the Eternal, taking hope and comfort, as she went about her duties, +from a few words Janet had said, even while she was weeping bitterly +over her son's sufferings-- + +"But I am putting all fear Christina, under my feet, for nothing comes +to pass without helping on some great end." + +Now what great end Andrew's severe illness was to help on, Christina +could not divine; but like her brave mother, she put fear under her +feet, and looked confidently for "the end" which she trusted would be +accomplished in God's time and mercy. + +So week after week the two women walked with love and courage by the +sick man's side, through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Often his +life lay but within his lips, and they watched with prayer continually, +lest he should slip away to them that had gone before, wanting its +mighty shield in the great perilous journey of the soul. And though +there is no open vision in these days, yet His Presence is ever near to +those who seek him with all the heart. So that wonderful things were +seen and experienced in that humble room, where the man lay at the +point of death. + +Andrew had his share of these experiences. Whatever God said to the +waiting, watching women, He kept for His suffering servant some of His +richest consolations, and so made all his bed in his sickness. Andrew +was keenly sensible of these ministrations, and he grew strong in their +heavenly strength; for though the vaults of God are full of wine, the +soul that has drunk of His strong wine of Pain knows that it has tasted +the costliest vintage of all, and asks on this earth no better. + +And as our thoughts affect our surroundings, quite as much as rain or +sunshine affect the atmosphere, these two women, with the sick man on +their hearts and hands, were not unhappy women. They did their very +best, and trusted God for the outcome. Thus Heaven helped them, and +their neighbours helped them, and taking turns in their visitation, +they found the Kirk also to be a big, calm friend in the time of their +trouble. And then one morning, before the dawn broke, when life seemed +to be at its lowest point, when hope was nearly gone, and the shadow of +Death fell across the sick man's face, there was suddenly a faint, +strange flutter. Some mighty one went out of the door, as the sunshine +touched the lintel, and the life began to turn back, just as the tide +began to flow. + +Then Janet rose up softly and opened the house door, and looking at her +son and at the turning waters, she said solemnly:-- + +"Thank God, Christina! He has turned with the tide? He is all right +now." + +It was April, however, in its last days, before Andrew had strength +sufficient to go down the cliff, and the first news he heard in the +village, was that Mistress Braelands had lain at death's door also. +Doubtless it explained some testimony private to his own experience, +for he let the intelligence pass through his ear-chambers into his +heart, without remark, but it made there a great peace--a peace pure +and loving as that which passeth understanding. + +There was, however, no hope or expectation of his resuming work until +the herring fishing in June, and Janet and Christina were now suffering +sorely from a strange dilemma. Never before in all their lives had they +known what it was to be pinched for ready money. It was hard for Janet +to realise that there was no longer "a little bit in the Largo bank to +fall back on." Naturally economical, and always regarding it as a +sacred duty to live within the rim of their shilling, they had never +known either the slow terror of gathering debt, or the acute pinch of +actual necessity. But Andrew's long sickness, with all its attendant +expenses, had used up all Janet's savings, and the day at last dawned +when they must either borrow money, or run into debt. + +It was a strange and humiliating position, especially after Janet's +little motherly bragging about her Christina's silken wedding gown, and +brawly furnished floor in Glasgow. Both mother and daughter felt it +sorely; and Christina looked at her brother with some little angry +amazement, for he appeared to be quite oblivious of their cruel strait. +He said little about his work, and never spoke at all about Sophy or +his lost money. In the tremendous furnace of his affliction, these +elements of it appeared to have been utterly consumed. + +Neither mother nor sister liked to remind him of them, nor yet to point +out the poverty to which his long sickness had reduced them. It might +be six weeks before the herring fishing roused him to labour, and they +had spent their last sixpence. Janet began seriously to think of +lifting the creel to her shoulders again, and crying "fresh fish" in +Largo streets. It was so many years since she had done this, that the +idea was painful both to Christina and herself. The girl would gladly +have taken her mother's place, but this Janet would not hearken to. As +yet, her daughter had never had to haggle and barter among fish wives, +and house-wives; and she would not have her do it for a passing +necessity. Besides Jamie might not like it; and for many other reasons, +the little downcome would press hardest upon Christina. + +There was one other plan by which a little ready money could be +raised--that was, to get a small mortgage on the cottage, and when all +had been said for and against this project, it seemed, after all, to be +the best thing to do. + +Griselda Kilgour had money put away, and Christina was very certain she +would be glad to help them on such good security as a house and an acre +or two of land. Certainly Janet and Griselda had parted in bad bread at +their last interview, but in such a time of trouble, Christina did not +believe that her kinswoman would remember ill words that had passed, +especially as they were about Sophy's marriage--a subject on which they +had every right to feel hurt and offended. + +Still a mortgage on their home was a dreadful alternative to these +simple-minded women; they looked upon it as something very like a +disgrace. "A lawyer's foot on the threshold," said Janet, "and who or +what is to keep him from putting the key of the cottage in his own +pocket, and sending us into a cold and roofless world? No! No! +Christina. I had better by far lift the creel to my shoulders again. +Thank God, I have the health and strength to do it!" + +"And what will folks be saying of me, to let you ware yourself on the +life of that work in your old age? If you turn fish-wife again, then I +be to seek service with some one who can pay me for my hands' work." + +"Well, well, my dear lass, to-night we cannot work, but we may sleep; +and many a blessing comes, and us not thinking of it. Lie down a wee, +and God will comfort you; forbye, the pillow often gives us good +counsel. Keep a still heart tonight, and tomorrow is another day." + +Janet followed her own advice, and was soon sleeping as soundly and as +sweetly as a play-tired child; but Christina sat in the open doorway, +thinking of the strait they were in, and wondering if it would not be +the kindest and wisest thing to tell Andrew plainly of their necessity. +Sooner or later, he would find out that his mother was making his bread +for him; and she thought such knowledge, coming from strangers, or +through some accident, would wound him more severely than if she +herself explained their hard position to him. As for the mortgage, the +very thought of it made her sick. "It is just giving our home away, bit +by bit--that is what a mortgage is--and whatever we are to do, and +whatever I ought to do, God only knows!" + +Yet in spite of the stress of this, to her, terrible question, a +singular serenity possessed her. It was as if she had heard a voice +saying "Peace, be still!" She thought it was the calm of nature,--the +high tide breaking gently on the shingle with a low murmur, the soft +warmth, the full moonshine, the sound of the fishermen's voices calling +faintly on the horizon,--and still more, the sense of divine care and +knowledge, and the sweet conviction that One, mighty to help and to +save, was her Father and her Friend. For a little space she walked +abreast of angels. So many things take place in the soul that are not +revealed, and it is always when we are wrestling _alone_, that the +comforting ones come. Christina looked downward to the village sleeping +at her feet, + + "Beneath its little patch of sky, + And little lot of stars," + +and upward, to where innumerable worlds were whirling noiselessly +through the limitless void, and forgot her own clamorous personality +and "the something that infects the world;" and doing this, though she +did not voice her anxiety, it passed from her heart into the Infinite +Heart, and thus she was calmed and comforted. Then, suddenly, the +prayer of her childhood and her girlhood came to her lips, and she +stood up, and clasping her hands, she cast her eyes towards heaven, and +said reverently:-- + +"_This is the change of Thy Right Hand, O Thou Most High + Thou art strong to strengthen.' + Thou art gracious to help! + Thou art ready to better.' + Thou art mighty to save'"_ + +As the words passed her lips, she heard a movement, and softly and +silently as a spirit, her brother Andrew, fully dressed, passed through +the doorway. His arm lightly touched Christina's clothing, but he was +unconscious of her presence. He looked more than mortal, and was +evidently seeing _through_ his eyes, and not _with_ them. She was +afraid to speak to him. She did not dream of touching him, or of +arresting his steps. Without a sign or word, he went rapidly down the +cliff, walking with that indifference to physical obstacles which a +spirit that had cast off its incarnation might manifest. + +"He is walking in his sleep, and he may get into danger or find death +itself," thought Christina, and her fear gave strength and fleetness to +her footsteps as she quickly followed her brother. He made no noise of +any kind; he did not even disturb a pebble in his path; but went +forward, with a motion light and rapid, and the very reverse of the +slow, heavy-footed gait of a fisherman. But she kept him in sight as he +glided over the ribbed and water-lined sands, and rounded the rocky +points which jutted into the sea water. After a walk of nearly two +miles, he made direct for a series of bold rocks which were penetrated +by numberless caverns, and into one of these he entered. + +Hitherto he had not shown a moment's hesitation, nor did he now though +the path was dangerously narrow and rocky, overhanging unfathomable +abysses of dark water. But Christina was in mortal terror, both for +herself and Andrew. She did not dare to call his name, lest, in the +sudden awakening he might miss his precarious foothold, and fall to +unavoidable death. She found it almost impossible to follow him nor +indeed in her ordinary frame of mind could she have done so. But the +experience, so strange and thrilling, had lifted her in a measure above +the control of the physical and she was conscious of an exaltation of +spirit which defied difficulties that would ordinarily have terrified +her. Still she was so much delayed by the precautions evidently +necessary for her life, that she lost sight of her brother, and her +heart stood still with fright. + +Prayers parted her white lips continually, as she slowly climbed the +hollow crags that seemed to close together and forbid her further +progress. But she would not turn back, for she could not believe that +Andrew had perished. She would have heard the fall of his body or its +splash in the water beneath and so she continued to climb and clamber +though every step appeared to make further exploration more and more +impossible. + +With a startling unexpectedness, she found herself in a circular +chamber, open to the sky and on one of the large boulders lying around, +Andrew sat. He was still in the depths of a somnambulistic sleep; but +he had his lost box of gold and bank-notes before him, and he was +counting the money. She held her breath. She stood still as a stone. +She was afraid to think. But she divined at once the whole secret. +Motionless she watched him, as he unrolled and rerolled the notes, as +he counted and recounted the gold, and then carefully locked the box, +and hid the key under the edge of the stone on which he sat. + +What would he now do with the box? She watched his movements with a +breathless interest. He sat still for a few moments, clasping his +treasure firmly in his large, brown hands; then he rose, and put it in +an aperture above his head, filling the space in front of it with a +stone that exactly fitted. Without hurry, and without hesitation, the +whole transaction was accomplished; and then, with an equal composure +and confidence, he retraced his steps through the cavern and over the +rocks and sands to his own sleeping room. + +Christina followed as rapidly as she was able; but her exaltation had +died away, and left her weak and ready to weep; so that when she +reached the open beach, Andrew was so far in advance as to be almost +out of sight. She could not hope to overtake him, and she sat down for +a few minutes to try and realise the great relief that had come to +them--to wonder--to clasp her hands in adoration, to weep tears of joy. +When she reached her home at last, it was quite light. She looked into +her brother's room, and saw that he was lying motionless in the deepest +sleep; but Janet was half-awake, and she asked sleepily:-- + +"Whatever are you about so early for, Christina? Isn't the day long +enough for the sorrow and the care of it?" + +"Oh, Mother! Mother! The day isn't long enough for the joy and the +blessing of it." + +"What do you mean, my lass? What is it in your face? What have you +seen? Who has spoken a word to you?" and Janet rose up quickly, and put +her hands on Christina's shoulders; for the girl was swaying and +trembling, and ready to break out into a passion of sobbing. + +"I have seen, Mother, the salvation of the Lord! I have found Andrew's +lost money! I have proved that poor Jamie is innocent! We aren't poor +any longer. There is no need to borrow, or mortgage, or to run in debt. +Oh, Mother! Mother! The blessing you bespoke last night, the blessing +we were not thinking of, has come to us." + +"The Lord be thanked! I knew He would save us, in His own time, and His +time is never too late." + +Then Christina sat down by her mother's side, and in low, intense +tones, told her all she had seen. Janet listened with kindling face and +shining eyes. + +"The mercy of God is on His beloved, and His regard is unto His elect," +she cried, "and I am glad this day, that I never doubted Him, and never +prayed to Him with a grudge at the bottom of my heart." Then she began +to dress herself with her old joyfulness, humming a line of this and +that psalm or paraphrase, and stopping in the middle to ask Christina +another question; until the kettle began to simmer to her happy mood, +and she suddenly sung out joyfully four lines, never very far from her +lips:-- + +"My heart is dashed with cares and fears, + My song comes fluttering and is gone; + Oh! High above this home of tears. + Eternal Joy sing on!" + +How would it feel for the hyssop on the wall to turn cedar, I wonder? +Just about as Janet and Christina felt that morning, eating their +simple breakfast with glad hearts. Poor as the viands were, they had +the flavour of joy and thankfulness, and of a wondrous salvation. "It +is the Lord's doing!" This was the key to which the two women set all +their hopes and rejoicing, and yet even into its noble melody there +stole at last a little of the fret of earth. For suddenly Janet had a +fear--not of God, but of man--and she said anxiously to her daughter:-- + +"You should have brought the box home with you, Christina. O my lass, +if some other body should have seen what you have seen, then we will be +fairly ruined twice over." + +"No, no. Mother! I would not have touched the box for all there is in +it. Andrew must go for it himself. He might never believe it was where +I saw it, if he did not go for it. You know well he suspicioned both +Jamie and me; and indeed, Mother dear, you yourself thought worse of +Jamie than you should have done." + +"Let that be now, Christina. God has righted all. We will have no casts +up. If I thought of any one wrongly, I am sorry for it, and I could not +say more than that even to my Maker. If ill news was waiting for +Andrew, it would have shaken him off his pillow ere this." + +"Let him sleep. His soul took his body a weary walk this morning. He is +sore needing sleep, no doubt." + +"He will have to wake up now, and go about his business. It is high +time." + +"You should mind, Mother, what a tempest he has come through; all the +waves and billows of sorrow have gone over him." + +"He is a good man, and ought to be the better of the tempest. His ship +may have been sorely beaten and tossed, but his anchor was fast all +through the storm. It is time he lifted anchor now, and faced the brunt +and the buffet again. An idle man, if he is not a sick man, is on a lee +shore, let him put out to sea, why, lassie! A storm is better than a +shipwreck." + +"To be sure, Mother. Here the dear lad comes!" and with that Andrew +sauntered slowly into the kitchen. There was no light on his face, no +hope or purpose in his movements. He sat down at the table, and drew +his cup of tea towards him with an air of indifference, almost of +despair. It wounded Janet. She put her hand on his hand, and compelled +him to look into her face. As he did so, his eyes opened wide; +speculation, wonder, something like hope came into them. The very +silence of the two women--a silence full of meaning--arrested his soul. +He looked from one to the other, and saw the same inscrutable joy +answering his gaze. + +"What is it, Mother?" he asked. "I can see you have something to tell +me." + +"I have that, Andrew! O my dear lad, your money is found! I do not +think a penny-bit of it is missing. Don't mind me! I am greeting for +the very joy of it--but O Andrew, you be to praise God! It is his +doing, and marvellous in our eyes. Ask Christina. She can tell you +better than I can." + +But Andrew could not speak. He touched his sister's hand, and dumbly +looked into her happy face. He was white as death, but he sat bending +forward to her, with one hand outstretched, as if to clasp and grasp +the thing she had to tell him. So Christina told him the whole story, +and after he had heard it, he pushed his plate and cup away, and rose +up, and went into his room and shut the door. And Janet said +gratefully:-- + +"It is all right, Christina. He'll get nothing but good advice in God's +council chamber. We'll not need to worry ourselves again anent either +the lad or the money. The one has come to his senses, and the other +will come to its use. And we will cast nothing up to him; the best boat +loses her rudder once in a while." + +It was not long before Andrew joined his mother and sister, and the man +was a changed man. There was grave purpose in his calm face, and a joy, +too deep for words, in the glint of his eyes and in the graciousness of +his manner. + +"Come, Christina!" he said. "I want you you to go with me; we will +bring the siller home together. But I forget--it is maybe too far for +you to walk again to-day?" + +"I would walk ten times as far to pleasure you, Andrew. Do you know the +place I told you of?" + +"Aye, I know it well. I hid the first few shillings there that I ever +saved." + +As they walked together over the sands Christina said: "I wonder, +Andrew, when and how you carried the box there? Can you guess at all +the way this trouble came about?" + +"I can, but I'm ashamed to tell you, Christina. You see, after I had +shown you the money, I took a fear anent it. I thought maybe you might +tell Jamie Logan, and the possibility of this fretted on my mind until +it became a sure thing with me. So, being troubled in my heart, I +doubtless got up in my sleep and put the box in my oldest and safest +hiding-place." + +"But why then did you not remember that you had done so?" + +"You see, dearie, I hid it in my sleep, so then it was only in my sleep +I knew where I had put it. There is two of us, I am thinking, lassie, +and the one man does not always tell the other man all he knows. I +ought to have trusted you, Christina; but I doubted you, and, as mother +says, doubt aye fathers sin or sorrow of some kind or other." + +"You might have safely trusted me, Andrew." + +"I know now I might. But he is lifeless that is faultless; and the +wrong I have done I must put right. I am thinking of Jamie Logan?" + +"Poor Jamie! You know now that he never wronged you?" + +"I know, and I will let him know as soon as possible. When did you hear +from him? And where is he at all?" + +"I don't know just where he is. He sailed away yon time; and when he +got to New York, he left the ship." + +"What for did he do that?" + +"O Andrew, I cannot tell. He was angry with me for not coming to +Glasgow as I promised him I would." + +"You promised him that?" + +"Aye, the night you were taken so bad. But how could I leave you in +Dead Man's Dale and mother here lone to help you through it? So I wrote +and told him I be to see you through your trouble, and he went away +from Scotland and said he would never come back again till we found out +how sorely all of us had wronged him." + +"Don't cry, Christina! I will seek Jamie over the wide world till I +find him. I wonder at myself I am shamed of myself. However, will you +forgive me for all the sorrow I have brought on you?" + +"You were not altogether to blame, Andrew. You were ill to death at the +time. Your brain was on fire, poor laddie, and it would be a sin to +hold you countable for any word you said or did not say. But if you +will seek after Jamie either by letter or your own travel, and say as +much to him as you have said to me I may be happy yet, for all that has +come and gone." + +"What else can I do but seek the lad I have wronged so cruelly? What +else can I do for the sister that never deserved ill word or deed from +me? No, I cannot rest until I have made the wrong to both of you as far +right as sorrow and siller can do." + +When they reached the cavern, Andrew would not let Christina enter it +with him. He said he knew perfectly well the spot to which he must go, +and he would not have her tread again the dangerous road. So Christina +sat down on the rocks to wait for him, and the water tinkled beneath +her feet, and the sunshine dimpled the water, and the fresh salt wind +blew strength and happiness into her heart and hopes. In a short time, +the last moment of her anxiety was over, and Andrew came back to her, +with the box and its precious contents in his hands. "It is all here!" +he said, and his voice had its old tones, for his heart was ringing to +the music of its happiness, knowing that the door of fortune was now +open to him, and that he could walk up to success, as to a friend, on +his own hearthstone. + +That afternoon he put the money in Largo bank, and made arrangements +for his mother's and sister's comfort for some weeks. "For there is +nothing I can do for my own side, until I have found Jamie Logan, and +put Christina's and his affairs right," he said. And Janet was of the +same opinion. + +"You cannot bless yourself, laddie, until you bless others," she said, +"and the sooner you go about the business, the better for everybody." + +So that night Andrew started for Glasgow, and when he reached that +city, he was fortunate enough to find the very ship in which Jamie had +sailed away, lying at her dock. The first mate recalled the young man +readily. + +"The more by token that he had my own name," he said to Andrew. "We are +both of us Fife Logans, and I took a liking to the lad, and he told me +his trouble." + +"About some lost money?" asked Andrew. + +"Nay, he said nothing about money. It was some love trouble, I take it. +He thought he could better forget the girl if he ran away from his +country and his work. He has found out his mistake by this time, no +doubt." + +"You knew he was going to leave 'The Line' then?" + +"Yes, we let him go; and I heard say that he had shipped on an American +line, sailing to Cuba, or New Orleans, or somewhere near the equator." + +"Well, I shall try and find him." + +"I wouldn't, if I was you. He is sure to come back to his home again. +He showed me a lock of the lassie's hair. Man! a single strand of it +would pull him back to Scotland sooner or later." + +"But I have wronged him sorely. I did not mean to wrong him, but that +does not alter the case." + +"Not a bit. Love sickness is one thing; a wrong against a man's good +name or good fortune, is a different matter. I would find him and right +him." + +"That is what I want to do." + +And so when the _Circassia_ sailed out of Greenock for New York, Andrew +Binnie sailed in her. "It is not a very convenient journey," he said +rather sadly, as he left Scotland behind him, "but wrong has been done, +and wrong has no warrant, and I'll never have a good day till I put the +wrong right; so the sooner the better, for, as Mother says, 'that which +a fool does at the end a wise man does at the beginning.'" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE RIGHTING OF A WRONG + + +So Andrew sailed for New York, and life resumed its long forgotten +happy tenor in the Binnie cottage. Janet sang about her spotless +houseplace, feeling almost as if it was a new gift of God to her; and +Christina regarded their small and simple belongings with that tender +and excessive affection which we are apt to give to whatever has been +all but lost and then unexpectedly recovered. Both women involuntarily +showed this feeling in the extra care they took of everything. Never +had the floors and chairs and tables been scrubbed and rubbed to such +spotless beauty; and every cup and platter and small ornament was +washed and dusted with such care as could only spring from heart-felt +gratitude in its possession. Naturally they had much spare time, for as +Janet said, 'having no man to cook and wash for lifted half the work +from their hands,' but they were busy women for all that. Janet began a +patch-work quilt of a wonderful design as a wedding present for +Christina; and as the whole village contributed "pieces" for its +construction, the whole village felt an interest in its progress. It +was a delightful excuse for Janet's resumption of her old friendly, +gossipy ways; and every afternoon saw her in some crony's house, +spreading out her work, and explaining her design, and receiving the +praises and sometimes the advice of her acquaintances. + +Christina also, quietly but yet hopefully, began again her preparations +for her marriage; for Janet laughed at her fears and doubts. "Andrew +was sure to find Jamie, and Jamie was sure to be glad to come home +again. It stands to reason," she said confidently. "The very sight of +Andrew will be a cordial of gladness to him; for he will know, as soon +as he sees the face of him, that the brother will mean the sister and +the wedding ring. If you get the spindle and distaff ready, my lass, +God is sure to send the flax; and by the same token, if you get your +plenishing made and marked, and your bride-clothes finished, God will +certainly send the husband." + +"Jamie said in his last letter--the one in which he bid me farewell--'I +will never come back to Scotland.'" + +"_Toots! Havers!_ 'I _will_' is for the Lord God Almighty to say. A +sailor-man's 'I will' is just breath, that any wind may blow away. When +Andrew gives him the letter you sent, Jamie will not be able to wait +for the next boat for Scotland." + +"He may have taken a fancy to America and want to stop there." + +"What are you talking about, Christina Binnie? There is nothing but +scant and want in them foreign countries. Oh! my lass, he will come +home, and be glad to come home; and you will have the hank in your own +hand. See that you spin it cannily and happily." + +"I hope Andrew will not make himself sick again looking for the lost." + +"I shall have little pity for him, if he does. I told him to make good +days for himself; why not? He is about his duty; the law of kindness is +in his heart, and the purpose of putting right what he put wrong is the +wind that drives him. Well then, his journey--be it short or +long--ought to be a holiday to him, and a body does not deserve a +holiday if he cannot take advantage of one. Them were my last words to +Andrew." + +"Jamie may have seen another lass. I have heard say the lassies in +America are gey bonnie." + +"I'll just be stepping if you have nothing but frets and fears to say. +When things go wrong, it is mostly because folks will have them wrong +and no other way." + +"In this world, Mother, the giffs and the gaffs--" + +"In this world, Christina, the giffs and the gaffs generally balance +one another. And if they don't,--mind what I say,--it is because there +is a moral defect on the failing side. Oh! but women are flightersome +and easy frighted." + +"Whyles you have fears yourself, Mother." + +"Ay, I am that foolish whyles; but I shall be a sick, weak body, when I +can't outmarch the worst of them." + +"You are just an oracle, Mother." + +"Not I; but if I was a very saint, I would say every morning of my +life: 'Now then, Soul, hope for good and have good.' Many a sad heart +folks get they have no need to have. Take out your needle and thimble +and go to your wedding clothes, lassie; you will need them before the +summer is over. You may take my word for that." + +"If Jamie should still love me." + +"Love you! He will be that far gone in love with you that there will be +no help for him but standing up before the minister. That will be seen +and heard tell of. Lift your white seam, and be busy at it; there is +nothing else to do till tea time, and I am away for an hour or two to +Maggie Buchans. Her man went to Edinburgh this morning. What for, I +don't know yet, but I'll maybe find out." + +It was on this very afternoon that Janet first heard that there was +trouble and a sound of more trouble at Braelands. Sophy had driven down +in her carriage the previous day to see her cousin Isobel Murray, and +some old friends who had gone into Isobel's had found the little +Mistress of Braelands weeping bitterly in her cousin's arms. After this +news Janet did not stay long at Maggie Buchans; she carried her +patch-work to Isobel Murray's, and as Isobel did not voluntarily name +the subject, Janet boldly introduced it herself. + +"I heard tell that Sophy Braelands was here yesterday." + +"Aye, she was." + +"A grand thing for you, Isobel, to have the Braelands's yellow coach +and pair standing before the Murray cottage all of two or three hours." + +"It did not stand before my cottage, Janet. The man went to the public +house and gave the horses a drink, and himself one too, or I am much +mistaken, for I had to send little Pete Galloway after him." + +"I think Sophy might have called on me." + +"No doubt she would have done so, had she known that Andrew was away, +but I never thought to tell her until the last moment." + +"Is she well? I was hearing that she looked but poorly." + +"You were hearing the truth. She looks bad enough." + +"Is she happy, Isobel?" + +"I never asked her that question." + +"You have eyes and observation. Didn't you ask yourself that question?" + +"Maybe I did." + +"What then?" + +"I have nothing to say anent it." + +"What was she talking about? You know, Isobel, that Sophy is kin of +mine, and I loved her mother like my own sister. So I be to feel +anxious about the little body. I'm feared things are not going as well +as they might do. Madame Braelands is but a hard-grained woman." + +"She is as cruel a woman and as bad a woman as there is between this +and wherever she may be." + +"Isn't she at Braelands?" + +"Not for a week or two. She's away to Acker Castle, and her son with +her." + +"And why not Sophy also?" + +"The poor lassie would not go--she says she could not. Well, Janet, I +may as good confess that there is something wrong that she does not +like to speak of yet. She is just at the crying point now, the reason +why and wherefore will come anon." + +"But she be to say something to you." + +"I'll tell you. She said she was worn out with learning this and that, +and she was humbled to death to find out how ignorant and full of +faults she was. Madame Braelands is both schoolmistress and +mother-in-law, and there does not seem to be a minute of the day in +which the poor child isn't checked and corrected. She has lost all her +pretty ways, and she says she cannot learn Madame's ways; and she is +feared for herself, and shamed for herself. And when the invitation +came for Acker Castle, Madame told her she must not accept it for her +husband's sake, because all his great friends were to be there, and +they were to discuss his going to Parliament, and she would only shame +and disgrace him. And you may well conceive that Sophy turned obstinate +and said she would bide in her own home. And, someway, her husband did +not urge her to go and this hurt her worst of all; and she felt lonely +and broken-hearted, and so came to see me. That is everything about it, +but keep it to yourself, Janet, it isn't for common clash." + +"I know that. But did Madame Braelands and her son really go away and +leave Sophy her lone?" + +"They left her with two or three teachers to worry the life out of her. +They went away two days ago; and Madame was in full feather and glory, +with her son at her beck and call, and all her grand airs and manners +about her. Sophy says she watched them away from her bedroom window, +and then she cried her heart out. And she couldn't learn her lessons, +and so sent the man teacher and the woman teacher about their business. +She says she will not try the weary books again to please anybody; they +make her head ache so that she is like to swoon away." + +"Sophy was never fond of books; but I thought she would like the +music." + +"Aye, if they would let her have her own way about it. She has her +father's little fiddle, and when she was but a bare-footed lassie, she +played on it wonderful." + +"I remember. You would have thought there was a linnet living inside of +it." + +"Well, she wanted to have some lessons on it, and her husband was +willing enough, but Madame went into hysterics about the idea of +anything so vulgar. There is a constant bitter little quarrel between +the two women, and Sophy says she cannot go to her husband with every +slight and cruelty. Madame laughs at her, or pretends to pet her, or +else gets into passions at what she calls Sophy's unreasonableness; and +Archie Braelands is weary to death of complaining, and just turns sulky +or goes out of the house. Oh, Janet, I can see and feel the bitter, +cruel task-woman over the poor, foolish child! She is killing her, and +Archie Braelands does not see the right and the wrong of it all." + +"I'll make him see it." + +"You will hold your tongue, Janet. They who stir in muddy water only +make it worse." + +"But Archie Braelands loved her, or he would not have married her; and +if he knew the right and the wrong of poor Sophy's position--" + +"I tell you, that is nothing to it, Janet." + +"It is everything to it. Right is right, in the devil's teeth." + +"I'm sorry I said a word to you; it is a dangerous thing to get between +a man and his wife. I would not do it, not even for Sophy; for reason +here or reason there, folks be to take care of themselves; and my man +gets siller from Braelands, more than we can afford to lose." + +"You are taken with a fit of the prudentials, Isobel; and it is just +extraordinary how selfish they make folk." + +And yet Janet herself, when going over the conversation with Christina, +was quite inclined on second thoughts not to interfere in Sophy's +affairs, though both were anxious and sorrowful about the motherless +little woman. + +"She ought to be with her husband wherever he is, court or castle," +said Christina. "She is a foolish woman to let him go away with her +enemy, and such a clever enemy as Madame Braelands is. I think, Mother, +you ought to call on Sophy, and give her a word of love and a bit of +good advice. Her mother was very close to you." + +"I know, Christina; but Isobel was right about the folly of coming +between a man and his wife. I would just get the wyte of it. Many a +sore heart I have had for meddling with what I could not mend." + +Yet Janet carried the lonely, sorrowful little wife on her heart +continually; though, after a week or two had passed and nothing new was +heard from Braelands, every one began to give their sympathy to +Christina and her affairs. Janet was ready to talk of them. There were +some things she wished to explain, though she was too proud to do so +until her friends felt interest enough to ask for explanations. And as +soon as it was discovered that Andrew had gone to America, the interest +and curiosity was sufficiently keen and eager to satisfy even Janet. + +"It fairly took the breath from me," said Sabrina Roy, "when I was told +the like of that. I cannot think there is a word of truth in such a +report." + +Mistress Roy was sitting at Janet's fireside, and so had the privilege +of a guest; but, apart from this, it gave Janet a profound satisfaction +to answer: "Ay, well, Sabrina, the clash is true for once in a +lifetime. Andrew has gone to America, and the Lord knows where else +beside." + +"Preserve us all! I wouldn't believe it, only from your own lips, +Janet. Whatever would be the matter that sent him stravaging round the +world, with no ship of his own beneath his feet or above his head?" + +"A matter of right and wrong, Sabrina. My Andrew has a strict +conscience and a sense of right that would be ornamental in a very +saint. Not to make a long story of it, he and Jamie Logan had a +quarrel. It was the night Andrew took his inflammation, and it is very +sure his brain was on fire and off its judgment at the time. But we +were none of us thinking of the like of that; and so the bad words +came, and stirred up the bad blood, and if I hadn't been there myself, +there might have been spilled blood to end all with, for they were both +black angry." + +"Guide us, woman! What was it all about?" + +"Well, Sabrina, it was about siller; that is all I am free to say. +Andrew was sure he was right, and Jamie was sure he was wrong; and they +were going fairly to one another's throats, when I stepped in and flung +them apart." + +"And poor Christina had the buff and the buffet to take and to bear for +their tempers?" + +"Not just that. Jamie begged her to go away with him, and the lassie +would have gone if I hadn't got between her and the door. I had a hard +few minutes, I can tell you, Sabrina; for when men are beside +themselves with passion, they are in the devil's employ, and it's no +easy work to take a job out of _his_ hands. But I sent Jamie flying +down the cliff, and I locked the door and put the key in my pocket, and +ordered Andrew and Christina off to their beds, and thought I would +leave the rest of the business till the next day; but before midnight +Andrew was raving, and the affair was out of my hands altogether." + +"It is a wonder Christina did not go after her lad." + +"What are you talking about, Sabrina? It would have been a world's +wonder and a black, burning shame if my girl had gone after her lad in +such a calamitous time. No, no, Christina Binnie isn't the kind of girl +that shrinks in the wetting. When her time of trial came, she did the +whole of her duty, showing herself day by day a witness and a testimony +to her decent, kirk-going forefathers." + +"And so Andrew has found out he was wrong and Jamie Logan right?" + +"Aye, he has. And the very minute he did so, he made up his mind to +seek the lad far and near and confess his fault." + +"And bring him back to Christina?" + +"Just so. What for not? He parted them, and he has the right and duty +to bring them together again, though it take the best years of his life +and the last bawbee of his money." + +"Folks were saying his money was all spent." + +"Folks are far wrong then. Andrew has all the money he ever had. Andrew +isn't a bragger, and his money has been silent so far, but it will +speak ere long." + +"With money to the fore, you shouldn't have been so scrimpit with +yourselves in such a time of work and trouble. Folks noticed it." + +"I don't believe in wasting anything, Sabrina, even grief. I did not +spend a penny, nor a tear, nor a bit of strength, that was useless. +What for should I? And if folks noticed we were scrimpit, why didn't +they think about helping us? No, thank God! We have enough and a good +bit to spare, for all that has come and gone, and if it pleases the +Maker of Happiness to bring Jamie Logan back again, we will have a +bridal that will make a monumental year in Pittendurie." + +"I am glad to hear tell o' that. I never did approve of two or three at +a wedding. The more the merrier." + +"That is a very sound observe. My Christina will have a wedding to be +seen and heard tell of from one sacramental occasion to another." + +"Well, then, good luck to Andrew Binnie, and may he come soon home and +well home, and sorrow of all kinds keep a day's sail behind him. And +surely he will go back to the boats when he has saved his conscience, +for there is never a better sailor and fisher on the North Sea. The men +were all saying that when he was so ill." + +"It is the very truth. Andrew can read the sea as well as the minister +can read the Book. He never turns his back on it; his boat is always +ready to kiss the wind in its teeth. I have been with him when _rip! +rip! rip_! went her canvas; but I hadn't a single fear, I knew the lad +at the helm. I knew he would bring her to her bearings beautifully. He +always did, and then how the gallant bit of a creature would shake +herself and away like a sea-gull. My Andrew is a son of the sea as all +his forbears were. Its salt is in his blood, and when the tide is going +with a race and a roar, and the break of the waves and the howl of the +wind is like a thousand guns, then Andrew Binnie is in the element he +likes best; aye, though his boat be spinning round like a laddie's +top." + +"Well, Janet, I will be going." + +"Mind this, Sabrina, I have told you all to my heart's keel; and if +folks are saying to you that Jamie has given Christina the slip, or +that the Binnies are scrimpit for poverty's sake, or the like of any +other ill-natured thing, you will be knowing how to answer them." + +"'Deed, I will! And I am real glad things are so well with you all, +Janet." + +"Well, and like to be better, thank God, as soon as Andrew gets back +from foreign parts." + +In the meantime, Andrew, after a pleasant sail, had reached New York. +He made many friends on the ship, and in the few days of bad weather +usually encountered came to the front, as he always did when winds were +blowing and sailor-men had to wear oil skins. The first sight of the +New World made him silent. He was too prudent to hazard an opinion +about any place so remote and so strange, though he cautiously admitted +"the lift was as blue as in Scotland and the sunshine not to speak ill +of." But as his ideas of large towns had been formed upon Edinburgh and +Glasgow, he could hardly admire New York. "It looks," he said to an +acquaintance who was showing him the city, "it looks as if it had been +built in a hurry;" for he was thinking of the granite streets and piers +of Glasgow. "Besides," he added, "there is no romance or beauty about +it; it is all straight lines and squares. Man alive! you should see +Edinburgh the sel of it, the castle, and the links, and the bonnie +terraces, and the Highland men parading the streets, it is just a bit +of poetry made out of builders stones." + +With the information he had received from the mate of the "Circassia," +and his advice and directions, Andrew had little difficulty in locating +Jamie Logan. He found his name in the list of seamen sailing a steamer +between New York and New Orleans; and this steamer was then lying at +her pier on the North River. It was not very hard to obtain permission +to interview Jamie, and armed with this authority, he went to the ship +one very hot afternoon about four o'clock. + +Jamie was at the hold, attending to the unshipping of cargo; and as he +lifted himself from the stooping attitude which his work demanded, he +saw Andrew Binnie approaching him. He pretended, however, not to see +him, and became suddenly very deeply interested in the removal of a +certain case of goods. Andrew was quite conscious of the affectation, +but he did not blame Jamie; it only made him the more anxious to atone +for the wrong he had done. He stepped rapidly forward, and with +extended hands said:-- + +"Jamie Logan, I have come all the way from Scotland to ask you to +forgive me. I thought wrong of you, and I said wrong to you, and I am +sorry for it. Can you pass it by for Christ's sake?" + +Jamie looked into the speaker's face, frankly and gravely, but with the +air of a man who has found something he thought lost. He took Andrew's +hands in his own hands and answered:-- + +"Aye, I can forgive you with all my heart. I knew you would come to +yourself some day, Andrew; but it has seemed a long time waiting. I +have not a word against you now. A man that can come three thousand +miles to own up to a wrong is worth forgiving. How is Christina?" + +"Christina is well, but tired-like with the care of me through my long +sickness. She has sent you a letter, and here it is. The poor lass has +suffered more than either of us; but never a word of complaining from +her. Jamie, I have promised her to bring you back with me. Can you +come?" + +"I will go back to Scotland with you gladly, if it can be managed. I am +fair sick for the soft gray skies, and the keen, salt wind of the North +Sea. Last Sabbath Day I was in New Orleans--fairly baking with the heat +of the place--and I thought I heard the kirk bells across the sands, +and saw Christina stepping down the cliff with the Book in her hands +and her sweet smile making all hearts but mine happy. Andrew man, I +could not keep the tears out of my een, and my heart was away down to +my feet, and I was fairly sick with longing." + +They left the ship together and spent the night in each other's +company. Their room was a small one, in a small river-side hotel, hot +and close smelling; but the two men created their own atmosphere. For +as they talked of their old life, the clean, sharp breezes of +Pittendurie swept through the stifling room; they tasted the brine on +the wind's wings, and felt the wet, firm sands under their feet. Or +they talked of the fishing boats, until they could see their sails +bellying out, as they lay down just enough to show they felt the fresh +wind tossing the spray from their bows and lifting themselves over the +great waves as if they stepped over them. + +Before they slept, they had talked themselves into a fever of home +sickness, and the first work of the next day was to make arrangements +for Jamie's release from his obligations. There was some delay and +difficulty about this matter, but it was finally completed to the +satisfaction of all parties, and Andrew and Jamie took the next Anchor +Line steamer for Glasgow. + +On the voyage home, the two men got very close to each other, not in +any accidental mood of confidence, but out of a thoughtful and assured +conviction of respect. Andrew told Jamie all about his lost money and +the plans for his future which had been dependent on it, and Jamie +said-- + +"No wonder you went off your health and senses with the thought of your +loss, Andrew I would have been less sensible than you. It was an awful +experience, man, I cannot tell how you tholed it at all." + +"Well, I didn't thole it, Jamie. I just broke down under it, and God +Almighty and my mother and sister had to carry me through the ill time; +but all is right now. I shall have the boat I was promised, and at the +long last be Captain Binnie of the Red-White Fleet. And what for +shouldn't you take a berth with me? I shall have the choosing of my +officers, and we will strike hands together, if you like it, and you +shall be my second mate to start with." + +"I should like nothing better than to sail with you and under you, +Andrew. I couldn't find a captain more to my liking." + +"Nor I a better second mate. We both know our business, and we shall +manage it cleverly and brotherly." + +So Jamie's future was settled before the men reached Pittendurie, and +the new arrangement well talked over, and Andrew and his proposed +brother-in-law were finger and thumb about it. This was a good thing +for Andrew, for his secretive, self-contained disposition was his weak +point, and had been the cause of all his sorrow and loss of time and +suffering. + +They had written a letter in New York and posted it the day they left, +advising Janet and Christina of the happy home-coming; but both men +forgot, or else did not know, that the letter came on the very same +ship with themselves, and might therefore or might not reach home +before them. It depended entirely on the postal authority in +Pittendurie. If she happened to be in a mood to sort the letters as +soon as they arrived, and then if she happened to see any one passing +who could carry a letter to Janet Binnie, the chances were that Janet +would receive the intelligence of her son's arrival in time to make +some preparation for it. + +As it happened, these favourable circumstances occurred, and about four +o'clock one afternoon, as Janet was returning up the cliff from Isobel +Murray's, she met little Tim Galloway with the letter in his hand. + +"It is from America," said the laddie, "and my mother told me to hurry +myself with it. Maybe there is folk coming after it." + +"I'll give you a bawbee for the sense of your words, Tim," answered +Janet; and she hastened herself and flung the letter into Christina's +lap, saying:-- + +"Open it, lassie, it will be full of good news. I shouldn't wonder if +both lads were on their way home again." + +"Mother, Mother, they _are_ home; they will be here anon, they will be +here this very night. Oh, Mother, I must put on my best gown and my +gold ear-rings and brush my hair, and you'll be setting forward the tea +and making a white pudding; for Jamie, you know, was always saying none +but you could mix the meal and salt and pepper, and toast it as it +should be done." + +"I shall look after the men's eating, Christina, and you make yourself +as braw as you like to. Jamie has been long away, and he must have a +full welcome home again." + +They were both as excited as two happy children; perhaps Janet was most +evidently so, for she had never lost her child-heart, and everything +pleasant that happened was a joy and a wonder to her. She took out her +best damask table-cloth, and opened her bride chest for the real china +kept there so carefully; and she made the white pudding with her own +hands, and ran down the cliff for fresh fish and the lamb chops which +were Andrew's special luxury. And Christina made the curds and cream, +and swept the hearth, and set the door wide open for the home-comers. + +And as good fortune comes where it is looked for, Andrew and Jamie +entered the cottage just as everything was ready for them. There was no +waiting, no cooled welcome, no spoiled dainties, no disappointment of +any kind. Life was taken up where it had been most pleasantly dropped; +all the interval of doubt and suffering was put out of remembrance, and +when the joyful meal had been eaten, as Janet washed her cups and +saucers and tidied her house, they talked of the happy future before +them. + +"And I'll tell you what, bairnies," said the dear old woman as she +stood folding her real china in the tissue paper devoted to that +purpose, "I'll tell you what, bairnies, good will asks for good deeds, +and I'll show my good will by giving Christina the acre of land next my +own. If Jamie is to go with you, Andrew, and your home is to be with +me, lad--" + +"Where else would it be, Mother?" + +"Well, then, where else need Jamie's home be but in Pittendurie? I'll +give the land for his house, and what will you do, Andrew? Speak for +your best self, my lad." + +"I will give my sister Christina one hundred gold sovereigns and the +silk wedding-gown I promised her." + +"Oh, Andrew, my dear brother, how will I ever thank you as I ought to?" + +"I owe you more, Christina, than I can count." + +"No, no, Andrew," said Janet. "What has Christina done that siller can +pay for? You can't buy love with money, and gold isn't in exchange for +it. Your gift is a good-will gift. It isn't a paid debt, God be +thanked!" + +The very next day the little family went into Largo, and the acre was +legally transferred, and Jamie made arrangements for the building of +his cottage. But the marriage did not wait on the building; it was +delayed no longer than was necessary for the making of the silk +wedding-gown. This office Griselda Kilgour undertook with much +readiness and an entire oblivion of Janet's unadvised allusions to her +age. And more than this, Griselda dressed the bride with her own hands, +adding to her costume a bonnet of white tulle and orange blossoms that +was the admiration of the whole village, and which certainly had a +bewitching effect above Christina's waving black hair, and shining +eyes, and marvellous colouring. + +And, as Janet desired, the wedding was a holiday for the whole of +Pittendurie. Old and young were bid to it, and for two days the dance, +the feast, and the song went gayly on, and for two days not a single +fishing boat left the little port of Pittendurie. Then the men went out +to sea again, and the women paid their bride visits, and the children +finished all the dainties that were else like to be wasted, and life +gradually settled back into its usual grooves. + +But though Jamie went to the fishing, pending Andrew's appointment to +his steamboat, Janet and Christina had a never-ceasing interest in the +building and plenishing of Christina's new home. It was not +fashionable, nor indeed hardly permissible, for any one to build a +house on a plan grander than the traditional fisher cottage; but +Christina's, though no larger than her neighbours', had the modern +convenience of many little closets and presses, and these Janet filled +with homespun napery, linseys, and patch-work, so that never a young +lass in Pittendurie began life under such full and happy circumstances. + +In the fall of the year the new fire was lit on the new hearth, and +Christina moved into her own home. It was only divided from her +mother's by a strip of garden and a low fence, and the two women could +stand in their open doors and talk to each other. And during the summer +all had gone well. Jamie had been fortunate and made money, and Andrew +had perfected all his arrangements, so that one morning in early +September, the whole village saw "The Falcon" come to anchor in the +bay, and Captain Binnie, in his gold-buttoned coat and gold-banded cap, +take his place on her bridge, with Jamie, less conspicuously attired, +attending him. + +It was a proud day for Janet and Christina, though Janet, guided by +some fine instinct, remained in her own home, and made no afternoon +calls. "I don't want to force folk to say either kind or unkind things +to me," she said to her daughter. "You know, Christina, it is a deal +harder to rejoice with them that rejoice than to weep with them that +weep. Sabrina Roy, as soon as she got her eyes on Andrew in his +trimmings, perfectly changed colours with envy; and we have been a +speculation to far and near, more than one body saying we were going +fairly to the mischief with out extravagance. They thought poverty had +us under her black thumb, and they did not think of the hand of God, +which was our surety." + +However, that afternoon Janet had a great many callers, and not a few +came up the cliff out of real kindness, for, doubt as we will, there is +a constant inflowing of God into human affairs. And Janet, in her +heart, did not doubt her neighbours readily; she took the homage +rendered in a very pleased and gracious manner, and she made a cup of +tea and a little feast for her company, and the clash and clatter in +the Binnie cottage that afternoon was exceedingly full of good wishes +and compliments. Indeed, as Janet reviewed them afterwards, they +provoked from her a broad smile, and she said with a touch of +good-natured criticism:-- + +"If we could make compliments into silk gowns, Christina, you and I +would be bonnily clad for the rest of our lives. Nobody said a +nattering word but poor Bella McLean, and she has been soured and sore +kept down in the world by a ne'er-do-weel of a husband." + +"She should try and guide him better," said Christina. "If he was my +man, I would put him through his facings." + +"_Toots_, Christina. You are over young in the marriage state to offer +opinions about men folk. As far as I can see, every woman can guide a +bad husband but the poor soul that has the ill-luck to have one. Open +the Book now, and let us thank God for the good day He has given us." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +"TAKE ME IN TO DIE!" + + +After this, the pleasant months went by with nothing but Andrew's and +Jamie's visits to mark them, and, every now and then, a sough of sorrow +from the big house of Braelands. And now that her own girl was so +happily settled, Janet began to have a longing anxiety about poor +Sophy. She heard all kinds of evil reports concerning the relations +between her and her husband, and twice during the winter there was a +rumour, hardly hushed up, of a separation between them. + +Isobel Murray, to whom at first Sophy turned in her sorrow, had not +responded to any later confidences. "My man told me to neither listen +nor speak against Archie Braelands," she said to Janet. "We have our +own boat to guide, and Sophy cannot be a friend to us; while it is very +sure Braelands can be an enemy beyond our 'don't care.' Six little lads +and lassies made folk mind their own business. And I'm no very sure but +what Sophy's troubles are Sophy's own making. At any rate, she isn't +faultless; you be to have both flint and stone to strike fire." + +"I'll not hear you say the like of that, Isobel. Sophy may be misguided +and unwise, but there is not a wrong thought in her heart. The bit +vanity of the young thing was her only fault, and I'm thinking she has +paid sorely for it." + +All winter, such vague and miserable bits of gossip found their way +into the fishing village, and one morning in the following spring, +Janet met a young girl who frequently went to Braelands House with +fresh fish. She was then on her way home from such an errand, and Janet +fancied there was a look of unusual emotion on her broad, stolid face. + +"Maggie-Ann," she said, stopping her, "where have you been this +morning?" + +"Up to Braelands." "And what did you see or hear tell of?" + +"I saw nothing; but I heard more than I liked to hear." + +"About Mistress Braelands? You know, Maggie-Ann, that she is my own +flesh and blood, and I be to feel her wrongs my wrongs." + +"Surely, Janet There had been a big stir, and you could feel it in the +very air of the house. The servants were feared to speak or to step, +and when the door opened, the sound of angry words and of somebody +crying was plain to be heard. Jean Craigie, the cook, told me it was +about the Dower House. The mistress wants to get away from her +mother-in-law, and she had been begging her husband to go and live in +the Dower House with her, since Madame would not leave them their own +place." + +"She is right," answered Janet boldly. "I wouldn't live with that fine +old sinner myself, and I think there are few women in Fife I couldn't +talk back to if I wanted. Sophy ought never to have bided with her for +a day. They have no business under the same roof. A baby and a popish +inquisitor would be as well matched." + +It had, indeed, come at last to Sophy's positive refusal to live longer +with her mother-in-law. In a hundred ways the young wife felt her +inability to cope with a woman so wise and so wicked, and she had +finally begun to entreat Archie to take her away from Braelands. The +man was in a strait which could end only in anger. He was completely +under his mother's influence, while Sophy's influence had been +gradually weakened by Madame's innuendos and complaints, her pity for +Archie, and her tattle of visitors. These things were bad enough; but +Sophy's worst failures came from within herself. She had been snubbed +and laughed at, scolded and corrected, until she had lost all +spontaneity and all the grace and charm of her natural manner. This +condition would not have been so readily brought about, had she +retained her health and her flower-like beauty. But after the birth of +her child she faded slowly away. She had not the strength for a +constant, never-resting assertion of her rights, and nothing less would +have availed her; nor had she the metal brightness to expose or +circumvent the false and foolish positions in which Madame habitually +placed her. + +Little by little, the facts of the unhappy case leaked out, and were +warmly commented on by the fisher-families with whom Sophy was +connected either by blood or friendship. Her father's shipmates were +many of them living and she had cousins of every degree among the +nets--men and women who did not forget the motherless, fatherless +lassie who had played with their own children. These people made Archie +feel their antagonism. They would neither take his money, nor give him +their votes, nor lift their bonnets to his greeting. And though such +honest, primitive feelings were proper enough, they did not help Sophy. +On the contrary, they strengthened Madame's continual assertion that +her son's marriage had ruined his public career and political +prospects. Still there is nothing more wonderful than the tugs and +twists the marriage tie will bear. There were still days in which +Archie--either from love, or pity, or contradiction, or perhaps from a +sense of simple justice--took his wife's part so positively that Madame +must have been discouraged if she had been a less understanding woman. +As it was, she only smiled at such fitful affection, and laid her plans +a little more carefully. And as the devil strengthens the hands of +those who do his work, Madame received a potent reinforcement in the +return home of her nearest neighbour, Miss Marion Glamis. As a girl, +she had been Archie's friend and playmate; then she had been sent to +Paris for her education, and afterwards travelled extensively with her +father who was a man of very comfortable fortune. Marion herself had a +private income, and Madame had been accustomed to believe that when +Archie married, he would choose Marion Glamis for his wife. + +She was a tall, high-coloured, rather mannish-looking girl, handsome in +form, witty in speech, and disposed towards field sports of every kind. +She disliked Sophy on sight, and Madame perceived it, and easily worked +on the girl's worst feelings. Besides, Marion had no lover at the time, +and she had come home with the idea of Archie Braelands tilling such +imagination as she possessed. To find herself supplanted by a girl of +low birth, "without a single advantage" as she said frankly to Archie's +mother, provoked and humiliated her. "She has not beauty, nor grace, +nor wit, nor money, nor any earthly thing to recommend her to Archie's +notice. Was the man under a spell?" she asked. + +"Indeed she had a kind of beauty and grace when Archie married her," +answered Madame; "I must admit that. But bringing her to Braelands was +like transplanting a hedge flower into a hot-house. She has just wilted +ever since." + +"Has she been noticed by Archie's friends at all?" + +"I have taken good care she did not see much of Archie's friends, and +her ill health has been a splendid excuse for her seclusion. Yet it was +strange how much the few people she met admired her. Lady Blair goes +into italics every time she comes here about 'The Beauty', and the +Bells, and Curries, and Cupars, have done their best to get her to +visit them. I knew better than permit such folly. She would have told +all sorts of things, and raised the country-side against me; though, +really, no one will ever know what I have gone through in my efforts to +lick the cub into shape!" + +Marion laughed, and, Archie coming in at that moment, she launched all +her high spirits and catches and witticisms at him. Her brilliancy and +colour and style were very effective, and there was a sentimental +remembrance for the foundation of a flirtation which Marion very +cleverly took advantage of, and which Archie was not inclined to deny. +His life was monotonous, he was ennuye, and this bold, bright +incarnation, with her half disguised admiration for himself, was an +irresistible new interest. + +So their intimacy soon became frequent and friendly. There were +horseback rides together in the mornings, sails in the afternoons, and +duets on the piano in the evenings. Then her Parisian toilets made poor +Sophy's Largo dresses look funnily dowdy, and her sharp questions and +affected ignorances of Sophy's meanings and answers were cleverly aided +by Madame's cold silences, lifted brows, and hopeless acceptance of +such an outside barbarian. Long before a dinner was over, Sophy had +been driven into silence, and it was perhaps impossible for her to +avoid an air of offence and injury, so that Marion had the charming in +her own hands. After dinner, Admiral Glamis and Madame usually played a +game of chess, and Archie sang or played duets with Marion, while +Sophy, sitting sadly unnoticed and unemployed, watched her husband give +to his companion such smiles and careful attentions as he had used to +win her own heart. + +What regrets and fears and feelings of wrong troubled her heart during +these unhappy summer evenings, God only knew. Sometimes her presence +seemed to be intolerable to Madame, who would turn to her and say +sharply: "You are worn out, Sophy, and it is hardly fair to impose your +weariness and low spirits on us. Had you not better go to your room?" +Occasionally, Sophy refused to notice this covert order, and she +fancied that there was generally a passing expression of pleasure on +her husband's face at her rebellion. More frequently, she was glad to +escape the slow, long torture, and she would rise, and go through the +formality of shaking hands with each person and bidding each +"good-night" ere she left the room. "Fisher manners," Madame would +whisper impatiently to Marion. "I cannot teach her a decent effacement +of her personality." For this little ceremony always ended in Archie's +escorting her upstairs, and so far he had never neglected this formal +deference due his wife. Sometimes too he came back from the duty very +distrait and unhappy-looking, a circumstance always noted by Madame +with anger and scorn. + +To such a situation, any tragedy was a possible culmination, and day by +day there was a more reckless abuse of its opportunities. Madame, when +alone with Sophy, did not now scruple to regret openly the fact that +Marion was not her daughter-in-law, and if Marion happened to be +present, she gave way to her disappointment in such ejaculations as-- + +"Oh! Marion Glamis, why did you stay away so long? Why did you not come +home before Archie's life was ruined?" And the girl would sigh and +answer: "Is not my life ruined also? Could any one have imagined Archie +Braelands would have an attack of insanity?" Then Sophy, feeling her +impotence between the tongues of her two enemies, would rise and go +away, more or less angrily or sadly, followed through the hall and +half-way upstairs by the snickering, confidential laughter of their +common ridicule. + +At the latter end of June, Admiral Glamis proposed an expedition to +Norway. They were to hire a yacht, select a merry party, and spend July +and August sailing and fishing in the cool fiords of that picturesque +land. Archie took charge of all the arrangements. He secured a yacht, +and posted a notice in the Public House of Pittendurie for men to sail +her. He had no doubt of any number of applications; for the work was +light and pleasant, and much better paid than any fishing-job. But not +a man presented himself, and not even when Archie sought out the best +sailors and those accustomed to the cross seas between Scotland and +Norway, could he induce any one to take charge of the yacht and man +her. The Admiral's astonishment at Archie's lack of influence among his +own neighbours and tenants was not very pleasant to bear, and Marion +openly said:-- + +"They are making cause with your wife, Archie, against you. They +imagine themselves very loyal and unselfish. Fools! a few extra +sovereigns would be much better." + +"But why make cause for my wife against me, Marion?" asked Archie. + +"You know best; ask Madame, she is my authority," and she shrugged her +shoulders and went laughing from his side. + +Nothing in all his married life had so annoyed Archie as this dour +displeasure of men who had always before been glad to serve him. Madame +was indignant, sorrowful, anxious, everything else that could further +irritate her angry son; and poor Sophy might well have prayed in those +days "deliver me from my friends!" But at length the yacht was ready +for sea, and Archie ran upstairs in the middle of one hot afternoon to +bid his wife "goodbye!" + +She was resting on her bed, and he never forgot the eager, wistful, +longing look of the wasted white face on the white pillow. He told her +to take care of herself for his sake. He told her not to let any one +worry or annoy her. He kissed her tenderly, and then, after he had +closed the door, he came back and kissed her again; and there were days +coming in which it was some comfort to him to remember this trifling +kindness. + +"You will not forget me, Archie?" she asked sadly. + +"I will not, sweetheart," he answered. + +"You will write me a letter when you can, dear?" + +"I will be sure to do so." + +"You--you--you will love me best of all?" + +"How can I help it? Don't cry now. Send me away with a smile." + +"Yes, dear. I will try and be happy, and try and get well." + +"I am sorry you cannot go with us, Sophy." + +"I am sorry too, Archie; but I could not bear the knocking about, and +the noise and bustle, and the merry-making. I should only spoil your +pleasure. I wouldn't like to do that, dear. Good-bye, and good-bye." + +For a few minutes he was very miserable. A sense of shame came over +him. He felt that he was unkind, selfish, and quite unworthy of the +tender love given him. But in half an hour he was out at sea, Marion +was at his side, the Admiral was consulting him about the cooling of +the dinner wines, the skipper was promising them a lively sail with a +fair wind--and the white, loving face went out of his memory, and out +of his consideration. + +Yet while he was sipping wine and singing songs with Marion Glamis, and +looking with admiration into her rosy, glowing face, Sophy was +suffering all the slings and arrows of Madame's outrageous hatred. She +complained all dinner-time, even while the servants were present, of +the deprivation she had to endure for Sophy's sake. The fact was she +had not been invited to join the yachting-party, two very desirable +ladies having refused to spend two months in her society. But she +ignored this fact, and insisted on the fiction that she had been +compelled to remain at home to look after Sophy. + +"I wish you had gone! Oh, I wish you had gone and left me in peace!" +cried the poor wife at last in a passion. "I could have been happy if I +had been left to myself." + +"And your low relations! You have made mischief enough with them for +Archie, poor fellow! Don't tell me that you make no complaints. The +shameful behaviour of those vulgar fishermen, refusing to sail a yacht +for Braelands, is proof positive of your underhand ways." + +"My relations are not low. They would scorn to do the low, cruel, +wicked things some people who call themselves 'high born' do all the +time. But low or high, they are mine, and while Archie is away, I +intend to see them as often as I can." + +This little bit of rebellion was the one thing in which she could show +herself Mistress of Braelands; for she knew that she could rely on +Thomas to bring the carriage to her order. So the next morning she went +very early to call on Griselda Kilgour. Griselda had not seen her niece +for some time, and she was shocked at the change in her appearance, +indeed, she could hardly refrain the exclamations of pity and fear that +flew to her lips. + +"Send the carriage to the _Queens Arms_," she said, "and stay with me +all day, Sophy, my dear." + +"Very well, Aunt, I am tired enough. Let me lie down on the sofa, and +take off my bonnet and cloak. My clothes are just a weight and a +weariness." + +"Aren't you well, dearie?" + +"I must be sick someway, I think. I can't sleep, and I can't eat; and I +am that weak I haven't the strength or spirit to say a word back to +Madame, however ill her words are to me." + +"I heard that Braelands had gone away?" + +"Aye, for two months." + +"With the Glamis crowd?" + +"Yes." + +"Why didn't you go too?" + +"I couldn't thole the sail, nor the company." + +"Do you like Miss Glamis?" + +"I'm feared I hate her. Oh! Aunt, she makes love to Archie before my +very eyes, and Madame tells me morning, noon, and night, that she was +his first love and ought to have married him." + +"I wouldn't stand the like of that. But Archie is not changed to you, +dearie?" + +"I cannot say he is; but what man can be aye with a fond woman, bright +and bonnie, and not think of her as he shouldn't think? I'm not blaming +Archie much. It is Madame and Miss Glamis, and above all my own +shortcomings. I can't talk, I can't dress, I can't walk, nor in any way +act, as that set of women do. I am like a fish out of its element. It +is bonnie enough in the water; but it only flops and dies if you take +it out of the water and put it on the dry land. I wish I had never seen +Archie Braelands! If I hadn't, I would have married Andrew Binnie, and +been happy and well enough." + +"You were hearing that he is now Captain Binnie of the Red-White +Fleet?" + +"Aye, I heard. Madame was reading about it in the Largo paper. Andrew +is a good man, Aunt. I am glad of his good luck." + +"Christina is well married too. You were hearing of that?" + +"Aye; but tell me all about it." + +So Griselda entered into a narration which lasted until Sophy slipped +into a deep slumber. And whether it was simply the slumber of utter +exhaustion, or whether it was the sweet oblivion which results from a +sense of peace long denied, or perhaps the union of both these +conditions, the result was that she lay wrapped in an almost lethargic +sleep for many hours. Twice Thomas came with the carriage, and twice +Griselda sent him away. And the man shook his head sadly and said:-- + +"Let her alone; I wouldn't be the one to wake her up for all my place +is worth. It may be a health sleep." + +"Aye, it may be," answered Griselda, "but I have heard old folk say +that such black, deep sleep is sent to fit the soul for some calamity +lying in wait for it. It won't be lucky to wake her anyway." + +"No, and I am thinking nothing worse can come to the little mistress +than the sorrow she is tholing now. I'll be back in an hour, Miss +Kilgour." + +Thus it happened that it was late in the afternoon when Sophy returned +to her home, and her rest had so refreshed her that she was more than +usually able to hold her own with Madame. Many unpardonable words were +said on both sides; and the quarrel, thus early inaugurated, raged from +day to-day, either in open recrimination, or in a still more +distressing interference with all Sophy's personal desires and +occupations. The servants were, in a measure, compelled to take part in +the unnatural quarrel; and before three weeks were over, Sophy's +condition was one of such abnormal excitement that she was hardly any +longer accountable for her actions. The final blow was struck while she +was so little able to bear it. A letter from Archie, posted in +Christiania and addressed to his wife, came one morning. As Sophy was +never able to come down to breakfast, Madame at once appropriated the +letter. When she had read it and finished her breakfast, she went to +Sophy's room. + +"I have had a letter from Archie," she said. + +"Was there none for me?" + +"No; but I thought you might like to know that Archie says he never was +so happy in all his life. The Admiral, and Marion, and he, are in +Christiania for a week or two, and enjoying themselves every minute of +the time. Dear Marion! _She_ knows how to make Archie happy. It is a +great shame I could not be with them." + +"Is there any message for me?" + +"Not a word. I suppose Archie knew I should tell you all that it was +necessary for you to know." + +"Please go away; I want to go to sleep." + +"You want to cry. You do nothing but sleep and cry, and cry and sleep; +no wonder you have tired Archie's patience out." + +"I have not tired Archie out. Oh, I wish he was here! I wish he was +here!" + +"He will be back in five or six weeks, unless Marion persuades him to +go to the Mediterranean--and, as the Admiral is so fond of the sea, +that move is not unlikely." + +"Please go away." + +"I shall be only too happy to do so." + +Now it happened that the footman, in taking in the mail, had noticed +the letter for Sophy, and commented on it in the kitchen; and every +servant in the house had been glad for the joy it would bring to the +lonely, sick woman. So there was nothing remarkable in her maid saying, +as she dressed her mistress:-- + +"I hope Mr. Braelands is well; and though I say it as perhaps I +shouldn't say it, we was all pleased at your getting Master's letter +this morning. We all hope it will make you feel brighter and stronger, +I'm sure." + +"The letter was Madame's letter, not mine, Leslie." + +"Indeed, it was not, ma'am. Alexander said himself, and I heard him, +'there is a long letter for Mrs. Archibald this morning,' and we were +all that pleased as never was." + +"Are you sure, Leslie?" + +"Yes, I am sure." + +"Go down-stairs and ask Alexander." + +Leslie went and came back immediately with Alexander's positive +assertion that the letter was directed to _Mrs. Archibald Braelands,_ +Sophy made no answer, but there was a swift and remarkable change in +her appearance and manner. She put her physical weakness out of her +consideration, and with a flush on her cheeks and a flashing light in +her eyes, she went down to the parlour. Madame had a caller with her, a +lady of not very decided position, who was therefore eager to please +her patron; but Sophy was beyond all regard for such conventionalities +as she had been ordered to observe. She took no notice of the visitor, +but going straight to Madame, she said:-- + +"You took my letter this morning. You had no right to take it; you had +no right to read it; you had no right to make up lies from it and come +to my bedside with them. Give me my letter." + +Madame turned to her visitor. "You see this impossible creature!" she +cried. "She demands from me a letter that never came." "It did come. +You have my letter. Give it to me." + +"My dear Sophy, go to your room. You are not in a fit state to see any +one." + +"Give me my letter. At least, let me see the letter that came." + +"I shall do nothing of the kind. If you choose to suspect me, you must +do so. Can I make your husband write to you?" + +"He did write to me." + +"Mrs. Stirling, do you wonder now at my son's running away from his +home?" + +"Indeed I am fairly astonished at what I see and hear." + +"Sophy, you foolish woman, do not make any greater exhibit of yourself +that you have done. For heaven's sake, go to your own room. I have only +my own letter, and I told you all of importance in it." + +"Every servant in the house knows that the letter was mine." + +"What the servants know is nothing to me. Now, Sophy, I will stand no +more of this; either you leave the room, or Mrs. Stirling and I will do +so. Remember that you have betrayed yourself. I am not to blame." + +"What do you mean, Madame?" + +"I mean that you may have hallucinations, but that you need not exhibit +them to the world. For my son's sake, I demand that you go to your +room." + +"I want my letter. For God's sake, have pity on me, and give me my +letter!" + +Madame did not answer, but she took her friend by the arm and they left +the room together. In the hall Madame saw a servant, and she said +blandly-- + +"Go and tell Leslie to look after her mistress, she is in the parlour. +And you may also tell Leslie that if she allows her to come down again +in her present mood, she will be dismissed." + +"Poor thing!" said Mrs. Stirling. "You must have your hands full with +her, Madame. Nobody had any idea of such a tragedy as this though I +must say I have heard many wonder about the lady's seclusion." + +"You see the necessity for it. However, we do not wish any talk on the +subject." + +Slowly it came to Sophy's comprehension that she had been treated like +an insane woman, and her anger, though quiet, was of that kind that +means action of some sort. She went to her room, but it was only to +recall the wrong upon wrong, the insult upon insult she had received. + +"I will go away from it all," she said. "I will go away until Archie +returns. I will not sleep another night under the same roof with that +wicked woman. I will stay away till I die, ere I will do it." + +Usually she had little strength for much movement, but at this hour she +felt no physical weakness. She made Leslie bring her a street costume +of brown cloth, and she carefully put into her purse all the money she +had. Then she ordered the carriage and rode as far as her aunt +Kilgour's. "Come for me in an hour, Thomas," she said, and then she +entered the shop. + +"Aunt, I am come back to you. Will you let me stay with you till Archie +gets home? I can bide yon dreadful old woman no longer." + +"Meaning Madame Braelands?" + +"She is just beyond all things. This morning she has kept a letter that +Archie wrote me; and she has told me a lot of lies in its place. I'm +not able to thole her another hour." + +"I'll tell you what, Sophy, Madame was here since I saw you, and she +says you are neither to be guided nor endured I don't know who to +believe." + +"Oh! aunt, aunt, you know well I wouldn't tell you a lie. I am so +miserable! For God's sake, take me in!" + +"I'd like to, Sophy, but I'm not free to do so." + +"You're putting Madame's bit of siller and the work she's promised you +from the Glamis girl before my heart-break. Oh, how can you?" + +"Sophy, you have lived with me, and I saw you often dissatisfied and +unreasonable for nothing at all." + +"I was a bit foolish lassie then. I am a poor, miserable, sick woman +now." + +"You have no need to be poor, and miserable, and sick. I won't +encourage you to run away from your home and your duty. At any rate, +bide where you are till your husband comes back. I would be wicked to +give you any other advice." + +"You mean that you won't let me come and stay with you?" + +"No, I won't. I would be your worst enemy if I did." + +"Then good-bye. You will maybe be sorry some day for the 'No' you have +just said." + +She went slowly out of the store, and Griselda was very unhappy, and +called to her to come back and wait for her carriage. She did not heed +or answer, but walked with evident purpose down a certain street. It +led her to the railway station, and she went in and took a ticket for +Edinburgh. She had hardly done so when the train came thundering into +the station, she stepped into it, and in a few minutes was flying at +express rate to her destination. She had relatives in Edinburgh, and +she thought she knew their dwelling place, having called on them with +her Aunt Kilgour when they were in that city, just previous to her +marriage. But she found that they had removed, and no one in the +vicinity knew to what quarter of the town. She was too tired to pursue +inquiries, or even to think any more that day, and she went to a hotel +and tried to rest and sleep. In the morning she remembered that her +mother's cousin, Jane Anderson, lived in Glasgow at some number in +Monteith Row. The Row was not a long one, even if she had to go from +house to house to find her relative. So she determined to go on to +Glasgow. + +She felt ill, strangely ill; she was in a burning fever and did not +know it. Yet she managed to get into the proper train, and to retain +her consciousness for sometime afterwards, ere she succumbed to the +inevitable consequences of her condition. Before the train reached its +destination, however, she was in a desperate state, and the first +action of the guard was to call a carriage and send her to a hospital. + +After this kindness had been done, Sophy was dead to herself and the +world for nearly three weeks. She remembered nothing, she knew nothing, +she spoke only in the most disconnected and puzzling manner. For her +speech wandered between the homely fisher life of her childhood and the +splendid social life of Braelands. Her personality was equally +perplexing. The clothing she wore was of the finest quality; her rings, +and brooch, and jewelled watch, indicated wealth and station; yet her +speech, especially during the fever, was that of the people, and as she +began to help herself, she had little natural actions that showed the +want of early polite breeding. No letter or card, no name or address of +any kind, was found on her person; she appeared to be as absolutely +lost as a stone dropped into the deep sea. + +And when she came to herself and realised where she was, and found out +from her attendant the circumstances under which she had been brought +to the hospital, she was still more reticent. For her first thought +related to the annoyance Archie would feel at her detention in a public +hospital; her second, to the unmerciful use Madame would make of the +circumstance. She could not reason very clearly, but her idea was to +find her cousin and gain her protection, and then, from that more +respectable covett, to write to her husband. She might admit her +illness--indeed, she would be almost compelled to do that, for she had +fallen away so much, and had had her hair cut short during the height +of the fever--but Archie and Madame must not know that she had been in +a public hospital. For fisher-people have a singular dislike to public +charity of any kind; they help one another. And, to Sophy's +intelligence, the hospital episode was a disgrace that not even her +insensibility could quite excuse. + +Several weeks passed in that long, spotless, white room full of +suffering, before Sophy was able to stand upon her feet, before indeed +she began to realise the passage of time, and the consequences which +must have followed her long absence and silence. But all her efforts at +writing were failures. The thought she wished to express slipped off +into darkness as soon as she tried to write it; her vision failed her, +her hands failed her; she could only sink back upon her pillow and lie +inert and almost indifferent for hours afterwards. And as the one +letter she wished to write was to Archie, she could not depute it to +any one else. Besides, the nurse would tell _where_ she was, and that +was a circumstance she must at all hazards keep to herself. It had been +hot July weather when she was first placed on her hard, weary bed of +suffering, it was the end of September when she was able to leave the +hospital. Her purse with its few sovereigns in it was returned to her, +and the doctor told her kindly, if she had any friends in the world, to +go at once to their care. + +"You have talked a great deal of the sea and the boats," he said; "get +close to the sea if you can; it is perhaps the best and the only thing +for you." + +She thanked him and answered: "I am going to the Fife coast. I have +friends there, I think." She put out a little wasted hand, and he +clasped it with a sigh. + +"So young, so pretty, so good," he said to the nurse, as they stood +watching her walk very feebly and unsteadily away. + +"I will give her three months at the longest, if she has love and care. +I will give her three weeks--nay, I will say three days, if she has to +care for herself, or if any particular trouble come to her." + +Then they turned from the window, and Sophy hired a cab and went to +Monteith Row to try and find her friends. She wanted to write to her +husband and ask him to come for her. She thought she could do this best +from her cousin's home. "I will give her a bonnie ring or two, and I +will tell her the whole truth, and she will be sure to stand by me, for +there is nothing wrong to stand by, and blood is aye thicker than +water." And then her thoughts wandered on to a contingency that brought +a flush of pain to her cheeks. "Besides, maybe Archie might have an ill +thought put into his head, and then the doctors and nurses in the +hospital could tell him what would make all clear." She went through +many of the houses, inquiring for Ellen Montgomery, but could not find +her, and she was finally obliged to go to a hotel and rest. "I will +take the lave of the houses in the morning," she thought, "it is aye +the last thing that is the right thing; everybody finds that out." + +That evening, however, something happened which changed all her ideas +and intentions. She went into the hotel parlour and sat down; there +were some newspapers on the table, and she lifted one. It was an +Edinburgh paper, but the first words her eyes fell on was her husband's +name. Her heart leaped up at the sight of it, and she read the +paragraph. Then the paper dropped from her hands. She felt that she was +going to faint, and by a supreme effort of will she recalled her senses +and compelled them to stay and suffer with her. Again, and then again, +she read the paragraph, unable at first to believe what she did read, +for it was a notice, signed by her husband, advising the world in +general that she had voluntarily left his home, and that he would no +longer be responsible for any debt she might contract in his name. To +her childlike, ignorant nature, this public exposure of her was a final +act. She felt that it was all the same as a decree of divorce. "Archie +had cast her off; Madame had at last parted them." For an hour she sat +still in a very stupour of despair. + +"But something might yet be done; yes, something must be done. She +would go instantly to Fife; she would tell Archie everything. He could +not blame her for being sick and beyond reason or knowledge. The +doctors and nurses of the hospital would certify to the truth of all +she said." Ah! she had only to look in a mirror to know that her own +wasted face and form would have been testimony enough. + +That night she could not move, she had done all that it was possible +for her to do that day; but on the morrow she would be rested and she +might trust herself to the noise and bustle of the street and railway. +The day was well on before she found strength to do this; but at length +she found herself on the direct road to Largo, though she could hardly +tell how it had been managed. As she approached the long chain of Fife +fishing-villages, she bought the newspaper most widely read in them; +and, to her terror and shame, found the same warning to honest folk +against her. She was heartsick. With this barrier between Archie and +herself, how could she go to Braelands? How could she face Madame? What +mockery would be made of her explanations? No, she must see Archie +alone. She must tell him the whole truth, somewhere beyond Madame's +contradiction and influence. Whom should she go to? Her aunt Kilgour +had turned her away, even before this disgrace. Her cousin Isobel's +husband had asked her not to come to his house and make loss and +trouble for him. If she went direct to Braelands, and Archie happened +to be out of the house, Madame would say such things of her before +every one as could never be unsaid. If she went to a hotel, she would +be known, and looked at, and whispered about, and maybe slighted. What +must she do? Where could she see her husband best? She was at her wit's +end. She was almost at the end of her physical strength and +consciousness. And in this condition, two men behind her began to talk +to the rustle of their turning newspapers. + +"This is a queer-like thing about Braelands and his wife," said one. + +"It is a very bad thing. If the wife has gane awa', she has been driven +awa' by bad usage. There is an old woman at Braelands that is as +evil-hearted as if she had slipped out o' hell for a few years. +Traill's girl was good and bonnie; she was too good, or she would have +held her ain side better." + +"That may be; but there is a reason deeper than that. The man is +wanting to marry the Glamis girl. He has already began a suit for +divorce, I hear. Man, man, there is always a woman at the bottom of +every sin and trouble!" + +Then they began to speak of the crops and the shooting, and Sophy +listened in vain for more intelligence. But she had heard enough. Her +soul cried out against the hurry and shame of the steps taken in the +matter. "So cruel as Archie is!" she sighed. "He might have looked for +me! He might have found me even in that awful hospital! He ought to +have done so, and taken me away and nursed me himself! If he had loved +me! If he had loved me, he would have done these things!". Despair +chilled her very blood. She had a thought of going to Braelands, even +if she died on its threshold; and then suddenly she remembered Janet +Binnie. + +As Janet's name came to her mind, the train stopped at Largo, and she +slipped out among the hurrying crowd and took the shortest road to +Pittendurie. It was then nearly dark, and the evening quite chill and +damp; but there was now a decisive end before the dying woman. "She +must reach Janet Binnie, and then leave all to her. She would bring +Archie to her side. She would be sufficient for Madame. If this only +could be managed while she had strength to speak, to explain, to put +herself right in Archie's eyes, then she would be willing and glad to +die." Step by step, she stumbled forward, full of unutterable anguish +of heart, and tortured at every movement by an inability to get breath +enough to carry her forward. + +At last, at last, she came in sight of Janet's cottage. The cliff +terrified her; but she must get up it, somehow. And as she painfully +made step after step, a light shone through the open door and seemed to +give her strength and welcome. Janet had been spending the evening with +her daughter, and had sat with her until near her bedtime. She was +doing her last household duties, and the last of all was to close the +house-door. When she went to do this, a little figure crouched on the +door-step, two weak hands clasped her round the knees, and the very +shadow of a thin, pitiful voice sobbed:-- + +"Janet! Take me in, Janet! Take me in to die! I'll not trouble you +long--it is most over, Janet!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +DRIVEN TO HIS DUTY + + +Toward this culmination of her troubles Archie had indeed contributed +far too much, but yet not as much as Sophy thought. He had taken her +part, he had sought for her, he had very reluctantly come to accept his +mother's opinions. His trip had not been altogether the heaven Madame +represented it. The Admiral had proved himself dictatorial and +sometimes very disagreeable at sea; the other members of the party had +each some unpleasant peculiarities which the cramped quarters and the +monotony of yacht life developed. Some had deserted altogether, others +grumbled more than was agreeable, and Marion's constant high spirits +proved to be at times a great exaction. + +Before the close of the pleasure voyage, Archie frequently went alone +to remember the sweet, gentle affection of his wife, her delight in his +smallest attentions, her instant recognition of his desires, her +patient endeavours to please him, her resignation to all his neglect. +Her image grew into his best imagination, and when he left the yacht at +her moorings in Pittendurie Bay, he hastened to Sophy with the +impatience of a lover who is also a husband. + +Madame had heard of his arrival and was watching for her son. She met +him at the door and he embraced her affectionately, but his first words +were, "Sophy, I hope she is not ill. Where is she?" + +"My dear Archie, no one knows. She left your home three weeks after you +had sailed." + +"My God, Mother, what do you mean?" + +"No one knows why she left, no one knows or can find out where she went +to. Of course, I have my suspicions." + +"Sophy! Sophy! Sophy!" he cried, sinking into a chair and covering his +face, but, whatever Madame's suspicions, she could not but see that +Archie had not a doubt of his wife's honour. After a few minutes' +silence, he turned to his mother and said:-- + +"You have scolded for once, Mother, more than enough. I am sure it is +your unkindness that has driven my wife from her home. You promised me +not to interfere with her little plans and pleasures." + +"If I am to bear the blame of the woman's low tastes, I decline to +discuss the matter," and she left the room with an air of great +offence. + +Of course, if Madame would not discuss the matter with him, nothing +remained but the making of such inquiries as the rest of the household +could answer. Thomas readily told all he knew, which was the simple +statement that "he took his mistress to her aunt's and left her there, +and that when he returned for her, Miss Kilgour was much distressed and +said she had already left." Archie then immediately sought Miss +Kilgour, and from her learned the particulars of his wife's +wretchedness, especially those points relating to the appropriated +letter. He flushed crimson at this outrage, but made no remark +concerning it. + +"My one desire now," he said, "is to find out where Sophy has taken +refuge. Can you give me any idea?" + +"If she is not in Pittendurie,--and I can find no trace of her +there,--then I think she may be in Edinburgh or Glasgow. You will mind +she had cousins in Edinburgh, and she was very kind with them at the +time of her marriage. I thought of them first of all, and I wrote three +letters to them; but there has been no answer to any of the three. She +has friends in Glasgow, but I am sure she had no knowledge as to where +they lived. Besides, I got their address from kin in Aberdeen and wrote +there also, and they answered me and said they had never seen or heard +tell of Sophy. Here is their letter." + +Archie read it carefully and was satisfied that Sophy was not in +Glasgow. The silence of the Edinburgh cousins was more promising, and +he resolved to go at once to that city and interview them. He did not +even return to Braelands, but took the next train southward. Of course +his inquiries utterly failed. He found Sophy's relatives, but their air +of amazement and their ready and positive denial of all knowledge of +his lost wife were not to be doubted. Then he returned to Largo. He +assured himself that Sophy was certainly in hiding among the +fisher-folk in Pittendurie, and that he would only have to let it be +known that he had returned for her to appear. Indeed she must have seen +the yacht at anchor, and he fully expected to find her on the door-step +waiting for him. As he approached Braelands, he fancied her arms round +his neck, and saw her small, wistful, flushing face against his breast; +but it was all a dream. The door was closed, and when it admitted him +there was nothing but silence and vacant rooms. He was nearly +distracted with sorrow and anger, and Madame had a worse hour than she +ever remembered when Archie asked her about the fatal letter that had +been the active cause of trouble. + +"The letter was Sophy's," he said passionately, "and you knew it was. +How then could you be so shamefully dishonourable as to keep it from +her?" + +"If you choose to reproach me on mere servants' gossip, I cannot +prevent you." + +"It is not servants' gossip. I know by the date on which Sophy left +home that it must have been the letter I wrote her from Christiania. It +was a disgraceful, cruel thing for you to do. I can never look you in +your face again, Mother. I do not feel that I can speak to you, or even +see you, until my wife has forgiven both you and myself. Oh, if I only +knew where to look for her!" + +"She is not far to seek; she is undoubtedly among her kinsfolk at +Pittendurie. You may remember, perhaps, how they felt toward you before +you went away. After you went, she was with them continually." + +"Then Thomas lies. He says he never took her anywhere but to her aunt +Kilgour's." + +"I think Thomas is more likely to lie than I am. If you have strength +to bear the truth, I will tell you what I am convinced of." + +"I have strength for anything but this wretched suspense and fear." + +"Very well, then, go to the woman called Janet Binnie; you may +recollect, if you will, that her son Andrew was Sophy's ardent +lover--so much so, that her marriage to you nearly killed him. He has +become a captain lately, wears gold buttons and bands, and is really a +very handsome and important man in the opinion of such people as your +wife. I believe Sophy is either in his mother's house or else she has +gone to--London." + +"Why London?" + +"Captain Binnie sails continually to London. Really, Archie, there are +none so blind as those who won't see." + +"I will not believe such a thing of Sophy. She is as pure and innocent +as a little child." + +Madame laughed scornfully. "She is as pure and innocent as those +baby-faced women usually are. As a general rule, the worst creature in +the world is a saint in comparison. What did Sophy steal out at night +for? Tell me that. Why did she walk to Pittendurie so often? Why did +she tell me she was going to walk to her aunt's, and then never go?" + +"Mother, Mother, are you telling me the truth?" + +"Your inquiry is an insult, Archie. And your blindness to Sophy's real +feelings is one of the most remarkable things I ever saw. Can you not +look back and see that ever since she married you she has regretted and +fretted about the step? Her heart is really with her fisher and sailor +lover. She only married you for what you could give her; and having got +what you could give her, she soon ceased to prize it, and her love went +back to Captain Binnie,--that is, if it had ever left him." + +Conversation based on these shameful fabrications was continued for +hours, and Madame, who had thoroughly prepared herself for it, brought +one bit of circumstantial evidence after another to prove her +suspicions. The wretched husband was worked to a fury of jealous anger +not to be controlled. "I will search every cottage in Pittendurie," he +said in a rage. "I will find Sophy, and then kill her and myself." + +"Don't be a fool, Archibald Braelands. Find the woman,--that is +necessary,--then get a divorce from her, and marry among your own kind. +Why should you lose your life, or even ruin it, for a fisherman's old +love? In a year or two you will have forgotten her and thrown the whole +affair behind your back." + +It is easy to understand how a conversation pursued for hours in this +vein would affect Archie. He was weak and impulsive, ready to suspect +whatever was suggested, jealous of his own rights and honour, and on +the whole of that pliant nature which a strong, positive woman like +Madame could manipulate like wax. He walked his room all night in a +frenzy of jealous love. Sophy lost to him had acquired a sudden charm +and value beyond all else in life; he longed for the morning; for +Madame's positive opinions had thoroughly convinced him, and he felt a +great deal more sure than she did that Sophy was in Pittendurie. And +yet, after every such assurance to himself, his inmost heart asked +coldly, "Why then has she not come back to you?" + +He could eat no breakfast, and as soon as he thought the village was +awake, he rode rapidly down to Pittendurie. Janet was alone; Andrew was +somewhere between Fife and London; Christina was preparing her morning +meal in her own cottage. Janet had already eaten hers, and she was +washing her tea-cup and plate and singing as she did so,-- + +"I cast my line in Largo Bay, + And fishes I caught nine; + There's three to boil, and three to fry, + And three to bait the line," + +when she heard a sharp rap at her door. The rap was not made with the +hand; it was peremptory and unusual, and startled Janet. She put down +the plate she was wiping, ceased singing, and went to the door. The +Master of Braelands was standing there. He had his short riding-whip in +his hand, and Janet understood at once that he had struck her house +door with the handle of it. She was offended at this, and she asked +dourly:-- + +"Well, sir, your bidding?" + +"I came to see my wife. Where is she?" + +"You ought to know that better than any other body. It is none of my +business." + +"I tell you she has left her home." + +"I have no doubt she had the best of good reasons for doing so." + +"She had no reason at all." + +Janet shrugged her shoulders, smiled with scornful disbelief, and +looked over the tossing black waters. + +"Woman, I wish to go through your house, I believe my wife is in it." + +"Go through my house? No indeed. Do you think I'll let a man with a +whip in his hand go through my house after a poor frightened bird like +Sophy? No, no, not while my name is Janet Binnie." + +"I rode here; my whip is for my horse. Do you think I would use it on +any woman?" + +"God knows, I don't." + +"I am not a brute." + +"You say so yourself." + +"Woman, I did not come here to bandy words with you." + +"Man, I'm no caring to hear another word you have to say; take yourself +off my door-stone," and Janet would have shut the door in his face, but +he would not permit her. + +"Tell Sophy to come and speak to me." + +"Sophy is not here." + +"She has no reason to be afraid of me." + +"I should think not." + +"Go and tell her to come to me then." + +"She is not in my house. I wish she was." + +"She _is_ in your house." + +"Do you dare to call me a liar? Man alive! Do it again, and every +fisher-wife in Pittendurie will help me to give you your fairings." + +"_Tush!_! Let me see my wife." + +"Take yourself off my doorstep, or it will be the worse for you." + +"Let me see my wife." + +"Coming here and chapping on my door--on Janet Binnie's door!--with a +horsewhip!" + +"There is no use trying to deceive me with bad words. Let me pass." + +"Off with you! you poor creature, you! Sophy Traill had a bad bargain +with the like of you, you drunken, lying, savage-like, wife-beating +pretence o' a husband!" + +"Mother' Mother!" cried Christina, coming hastily forward; "Mother, +what are you saying at all?" + +"The God's truth, Christina, that and nothing else. Ask the mean, +perfectly unutterable scoundrel how he got beyond his mother's +apron-strings so far as this?" + +Christina turned to Braelands. "Sir," she said, "what's your will?" + +"My wife has left her home, and I have been told she is in Mistress +Binnie's house." + +"She is not. We know nothing about the poor, miserable lass, God help +her!" + +"I cannot believe you." + +"Please yourself anent believing me, but you had better be going, sir. +I see Limmer Scott and Mistress Roy and a few more fishwives looking +this way." + +"Let them look." + +"Well, they have their own fashion of dealing with men who ill use a +fisher lass. Sophy was born among them." + +"You are a bad lot! altogether a bad lot!" + +"Go now, and go quick, or we'll prove to you that we are a bad lot!" +cried Janet. "I wouldn't myself think anything of putting you in a +blanket and tossing you o'er the cliff into the water." And Janet, with +arms akimbo and eyes blazing with anger, was not a comfortable sight. + +So, with a smile of derision, Braelands turned his back on the women, +walking with an affected deliberation which by no means hid the white +feather from the laughing, jeering fisher-wives who came to their door +at Janet's call for them, and whose angry mocking followed him until he +was out of sight and hearing. Then there was a conclave in Janet's +house, and every one told a different version of the Braelands trouble. +In each case, however, Madame was credited with the whole of the +sorrow-making, though Janet stoutly asserted that "a man who was feared +for his mother wasn't fit to be a husband." + +"Madame's tongue and temper is kindled from a coal out of hell," she +said, "and that is the God's truth; but she couldn't do ill with them, +if Archie Braelands wasn't a coward--a sneaking, trembling coward, that +hasn't the heart in him to stand between poor little Sophy and the most +spiteful, hateful old sinner this side of the brimstone pit." + +But though the birr and first flame of the village anger gradually +cooled down, Janet's and Christina's hearts were hot and heavy within +them, and they could not work, nor eat, nor sleep with any relish, for +thinking of the poor little runaway wife. Indeed, in every cottage +there was one topic of wonder and pity, and one sad lament when two or +three of the women came together: "Poor Sophy! Poor Sophy Braelands!" It +was noticeable, however, that not a single woman had a wrong thought of +Sophy. Madame could easily suspect the worst, but the "worst" was an +incredible thing to a fisher-wife. Some indeed blamed her for not +tholing her grief until her husband came back, but not a single heart +suspected her of a liaison with her old lover. + +Archie, however, returned from his ineffectual effort to find her with +every suspicion strengthened. Madame could hardly have hoped for a +visit so completely in her favour, and after it Archie was entirely +under her influence. It is true he was wretchedly despondent, but he +was also furiously angry. He fancied himself the butt of his friends, +he believed every one to be talking about his affairs, and, day by day, +his sense of outrage and dishonour pressed him harder and harder. In a +month he was quite ready to take legal steps to release himself from +such a doubtful tie, and Madame, with his tacit permission, took the +first step towards such a consummation by writing with her own hand the +notice which had driven Sophy to despair. + +While events were working towards this end, Sophy was helpless and +senseless in the Glasgow hospital. Archie's anger was grounded on the +fact that she must know of his return, and yet she had neither come +back to her home nor sent him a line of communication. He told himself +that if she had written him one line, he would have gone to the end of +the earth after her. And anon he told himself that if she had been true +to him, she would have written or else come back to her home. Say she +was sick, she could have got some one to use the pen or the telegraph +for her. And this round of reasoning, always led into the same channel +by Madame, finally assumed not the changeable quality of argument, but +the positiveness of fact. + +So the notice of her abandonment was sent by the press far and wide, +and yet there came no protest against it; for Sophy had brought to the +hospital nothing by which she could be identified, and as no hint of +her personal appearance was given, it was impossible to connect her +with it. Thus while its cruel words linked suspicion with her name in +every household where they went, she lay ignorantly passive, knowing +nothing at all of the wrong done her and of the unfortunate train of +circumstances which finally forced her husband to doubt her love and +her honour. It was an additional calamity that this angry message of +severance was the first thing that met her consciousness when she was +at all able to act. + +Her childish ignorance and her primitive ideas aided only too well the +impression of finality it gave. She put it beside all she had seen and +heard of her husband's love for Marion Glamis, and the miserable +certainty was plain to her. She knew she was dying, and a quiet place +to die in and a little love to help her over the hard hour seemed to be +all she could expect now; the thought of Janet and Christina was her +last hope. Thus it was that Janet found her trembling and weeping on +her doorstep; thus it was she heard that pitiful plaint, "Take me in, +Janet! Take me in to die!" + +Never for one moment did Janet think of refusing this sad petition. She +sat down beside her; she laid Sophy's head against her broad loving +breast; she looked with wondering pity at the small, shrunken face, so +wan and ghostlike in the gray light. Then she called Christina, and +Christina lifted Sophy easily in her arms, and carried her into her own +house. "For we'll give Braelands no occasion against either her or +Andrew," she said. Then they undressed the weary woman and made her a +drink of strong tea; and after a little she began to talk in a quick, +excited manner about her past life. + +"I ran away from Braelands at the end of July," she said. "I could not +bear the life there another hour; I was treated before folk as if I had +lost my senses; I was treated when I was alone as if I had no right in +the house, and as if my being in it was a mortal wrong and misery to +every one. And at the long last the woman there kept Archie's letter +from me, and I was wild at that, and sick and trembling all over; and I +went to Aunt Griselda, and she took Madame's part and would not let me +stay with her till Archie came back to protect me. What was I to do? I +thought of my cousins in Edinburgh and went there, and could not find +them. Then there was only Ellen Montgomery in Glasgow, and I was ill +and so tired; but I thought I could manage to reach her." + +"And didn't you reach her, dearie?" + +"No. I got worse and worse; and when I reached Glasgow I knew nothing +at all, and they sent me to the hospital." + +"Oh, Sophy! Sophy!" + +"Aye, they did. What else could be, Janet? No one knew who I was; I +could not tell any one. They weren't bad to me. I suffered, but they +did what they could to help me. Such dreadful nights, Janet! Such long, +awful days! Week after week in which I knew nothing but pain; I could +not move myself. I could not write to any one, for my thoughts would +not stay with me; and my sight went away, and I had hardly strength to +live." + +"Try and forget it, Sophy, darling," said Christina. "We will care for +you now, and the sea-winds will blow health to you." + +She shook her head sadly. "Only the winds of heaven will ever blow +health to me, Christina," she answered; "I have had my death blow. I am +going fast to them who have gone before me. I have seen my mother +often, the last wee while. I knew it was my mother, though I do not +remember her; she is waiting for her bit lassie. I shall not have to go +alone; and His rod and staff will comfort me, I will fear no evil." + +They kissed and petted and tried to cheer her, and Janet begged her to +sleep; but she was greatly excited and seemed bent on excusing and +explaining what she had done. "For I want you to tell Archie +everything, Janet," she said. "I shall maybe never see him again; but +you must take care, that he has not a wrong thought of me." + +"He'll get the truth and the whole truth from me, dearie." + +"Don't scold him, Janet. I love him very much. It is not his fault." + +"I don't know that." + +"No, it is not. I wasn't home to Braelands two days before Madame began +to make fun of my talk, and my manners, and my dress, and of all I did +and said. And she got Archie to tell me I must mind her, and try to +learn how to be a fine lady like her; and I could not--I could not. And +then she set Archie against me, and I was scolded just for nothing at +all. And then I got ill, and she said I was only sulky and awkward; but +I just could not learn the books I be to learn, nor walk as she showed +me how to walk, nor talk like her, nor do anything at all she tried to +make me do. Oh, the weary, weary days that I have fret myself through! +Oh, the long, painful nights! I am thankful they can never, never come +back." + +"Then don't think of them now, Sophy. Try and rest yourself a bit, and +to-morrow you shall tell me everything." + +"To-morrow will be too late, can't you see that, Janet? I must clear +myself to-night--now--or you won't know what to say to Archie." + +"Was Archie kind to you, Sophy?" + +"Sometimes he was that kind I thought I must be in the wrong, and then +I tried again harder than ever to understand the weary books and do +what Madame told me. Sometimes they made him cross at me, and I thought +I must die with the shame and heartache from it. But it was not till +Marion Glamis came back that I lost all hope. She was Archie's first +love, you know." + +"She was nothing of the kind. I don't believe he ever cared a pin for +her. You had the man's first love; you have it yet, if it is worth +aught. He was here seeking you, dearie, and he was distracted with the +loss of you." + +"In the morning you will send for him, Janet, very early; and though +I'll be past talking then, you will talk for me. You will tell him how +Madame tortured me about the Glamis girl, how she kept my letters, and +made Mrs. Stirling think I was not in my right mind," and so between +paroxysms of pain and coughing, she went over and over the sad story of +petty wrongs that had broken her heart, and driven her at last to +rebellion and flight. + +"Oh! my poor lassie, why didn't you come to Christina and me?" + +"There was aye the thought of Andrew. Archie would have been angry, +maybe, and I could only feel that I must get away from Braelands. When +aunt failed me, something seemed to drive me to Edinburgh, and then on +to Glasgow; but it was all right, you see, I have saved you and +Christina for the last hour," and she clasped Christina's hand and laid +her head closer to Janet's breast. + +"And I would like to see the man or woman that will dare to trouble you +now, my bonnie bairn," said Janet. There was a sob in her voice, and +she crooned kind words to the dying girl, who fell asleep at last in +her arms. Then Janet went to the door, and stood almost gasping in the +strong salt breeze; for the shock of Sophy's pitiful return had hurt +her sorely. There was a full moon in the sky, and the cold, gray waters +tossed restlessly under it. "Lord help us, we must bear what's sent!" +she whispered; then she noticed a steamboat with closely reefed sails +lying in the offing; and added thankfully, "There is 'The Falcon,' God +bless her! And it's good to think that Andrew Binnie isn't far away; +maybe he'll be wanted. I wonder if I ought to send a word to him; if +Sophy wants to see him, she shall have her way; dying folk don't make +any mistakes." + +Now when Andrew came to anchor at Pittendurie, it was his custom to +swing out a signal light, and if the loving token was seen, Janet and +Christina answered by placing a candle in their windows. This night +Janet put three candles in her window. "Andrew will wonder at them," +she thought, "and maybe come on shore to find out whatever their +meaning may be." Then she hurriedly closed the door. The night was +cold, but it was more than that,--the air had the peculiar coldness +that gives sense of the supernatural, such coldness as precedes the +advent of a spirit. She was awed, she opened her mouth as if to speak, +but was dumb; she put out her hands--but who can arrest the invisible? + +Sleep was now impossible. The very air of the room was sensitive. +Christina sat wide awake on one side of the bed, Janet on the other; +they looked at each other frequently, but did not talk. There was no +sound but the rising moans of the northeast wind, no light but the glow +of the fire and the shining of the full moon looking out from the +firmament as from eternity. Sophy slept restlessly like one in +half-conscious pain, and when she awoke before dawning, she was in a +high fever and delirious; but there was one incessant, gasping cry for +"Andrew!" + +"Andrew! Andrew! Andrew!" she called with fast failing breath, "Andrew, +come and go for Archie. Only you can bring him to me." And Janet never +doubted at this hour what love and mercy asked for. "Folks may talk if +they want to," she said to Christina, "I am going down to the village +to get some one to take a message to Andrew. Sophy shall have her will +at this hour if I can compass it." + +The men of the village were mostly yet at the fishing, but she found +two old men who willingly put out to "The Falcon" with the message for +her captain. Then she sent a laddie for the nearest doctor, and she +called herself for the minister, and asked him to come and see the sick +woman; "forbye, minister," she added, "I'm thinking you will be the +only person in Pittendurie that will have the needful control o' temper +to go to Braelands with the news." She did not specially hurry any one, +for, sick as Sophy was, she believed it likely Archie Braelands and a +good doctor might give her such hope and relief as would prolong her +life a little while. "She is so young," she thought, "and love and +sea-breezes are often a match for death himself." + +The old men who had gone for Andrew were much too infirm to get close +to "The Falcon." For with the daylight her work had begun, and she was +surrounded on all sides by a melee of fishing-boats. Some were +discharging their boxes of fish; others were struggling to get some +point of vantage; others again fighting to escape the uproar. The air +was filled with the roar of the waves and with the voices of men, +blending in shouts, orders, expostulations, words of anger, and words +of jest. + +Above all this hubbub, Andrew's figure on the steamer's bridge towered +large and commanding, as he watched the trunks of fish hauled on board, +and then dragged, pushed, thrown, or kicked, as near the mouth of the +hold as the blockade of trunks already shipped would permit. But, sharp +as a crack of thunder, a stentorian voice called out:-- + +"Captain Binnie wanted! Girl dying in Pittendurie wants him!" + +Andrew heard. The meaning of the three lights was now explained. He had +an immediate premonition that it was Sophy, and he instantly deputed +his charge to Jamie, and was at the gunwale before the shouter had +repeated his alarm. To a less prompt and practised man, a way of +reaching the shore would have been a dangerous and tedious +consideration; but Andrew simply selected a point where a great wave +would lift a small boat near to the level of the ship's bulwarks, and +when this occurred, he leaped into her, and was soon going shoreward as +fast as his powerful stroke at the oars could carry him. + +When he reached Christina's cottage, Sophy had passed beyond all earthly +care and love. She heeded not the tenderest words of comfort; her life +was inexorably coming to its end; and every one of her muttered words +was mysterious, important, wondrous, though they could make out nothing +she said, save only that she talked about "angels resting in the +hawthorn bowers." Hastily Christina gave Andrew the points of her +sorrowful story, and then she suddenly remembered that a strange man had +brought there that morning some large, important-looking papers which he +had insisted on giving to the dying woman. Andrew, on examination, found +them to be proceedings in the divorce case between Archibald Braelands +and his wife Sophy Traill. + +"Some one has recognised her in the train last night and then followed +her here," he said pitifully. They were in a gey hurry with their cruel +work. I hope she knows nothing about it." + +"No, no, they didn't come till she was clean beyond the worriments of +this life. She did not see the fellow who put them in her hands; she +heard nothing he said to her." + +"Then if she comes to herself at all, say nothing about them. What for +should we tell her? Death will break her marriage very soon without +either judge or jury." + +"The doctor says in a few hours at the most." + +"Then there is no time to lose. Say a kind 'farewell' for me, +Christina, if you find a minute in which she can understand it. I'm off +to Braelands," and he put the divorce papers in his pocket, and went +down the cliff at a run. When he reached the house, Archie was at the +door on his horse and evidently in a hurry; but Andrew's look struck +him on the heart like a blow. He dismounted without a word, and +motioned to Andrew to follow him. They turned into a small room, and +Archie closed the door. For a moment there was a terrible silence, then +Andrew, with passionate sorrow, threw the divorce papers down on the +table. + +"You'll not require, Braelands, to fash folk with the like of them; +your wife is dying. She is at my sister's house. Go to her at once." + +"What is that to you? Mind your own business, Captain Binnie." + +"It is the business of every decent man to call comfort to the dying. +Go and say the words you ought to say. Go before it is too late." + +"Why is my wife at your sister's house?" + +"God pity the poor soul, she had no other place to die in! For Christ's +sake, go and say a loving word to her." + +"Where has she been all this time? Tell me that, sir." + +"Dying slowly in the public hospital at Glasgow." + +"_My God_!" + +"There is no time for words now; not a moment to spare. Go to your wife +at once." + +"She left me of her own free will. Why should I go to her now?" + +"She did not leave you; she was driven away by devilish cruelty. And +oh, man, man, go for your own sake then! To-morrow it will be too late +to say the words you will weep to say. Go for your own sake. Go to +spare yourself the black remorse that is sure to come if you don't go. +If you don't care for your poor wife, go for your own sake!" + +"I do care for my wife. I wished--" + +"Haste you then, don't lose a moment! Haste you! haste you! If it is +but one kind word before you part forever, give it to her. She has +loved you well; she loves you yet; she is calling for you at the +grave's mouth. Haste you, man! haste you!" + +His passionate hurry drove like a wind, and Braelands was as straw +before it. His horse stood there ready saddled; Andrew urged him to it, +and saw him flying down the road to Pittendurie before he was conscious +of his own efforts. Then he drew a long sigh, lifted the divorce papers +and threw them into the blazing fire. A moment or two he watched them +pass into smoke, and then he left the house with all the hurry of a +soul anxious unto death. Half-way down the garden path, Madame +Braelands stepped in front of him. + +"What have you come here for?" she asked in her haughtiest manner. + +"For Braelands." + +"Where have you sent him to in such a black hurry?" + +"To his wife. She is dying." + +"Stuff and nonsense!" + +"She is dying." + +"No such luck for my house. The creature has been dying ever since he +married her." + +"_You_ have been _killing her_ ever since he married her. Give way, +woman, I don't want to speak to you; I don't want to touch the very +clothes of you. I think no better of you than God Almighty does, and He +will ask Sophy's life at your hands." + +"I shall tell Braelands of your impertinence. It will be the worse for +you." + +"It will be as God wills, and no other way. Let me pass. Don't touch +me, there is blood on your hands, and blood on your skirts; and you are +worse--ten thousand times worse--than any murderer who ever swung on +the gallows-tree for her crime! Out of my way, Madame Braelands!" + +She stood before him motionless as a white stone with passion, and yet +terrified by the righteous anger she had provoked. Words would not come +to her, she could not obey his order and move out of his way, so Andrew +turned into another path and left her where she stood, for he was +impatient of delay, and with steps hurried and stumbling, he followed +the husband whom he had driven to his duty. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AMONG HER OWN PEOPLE + + +Braelands rode like a man possessed, furiously, until he reached the +foot of the cliff on which Janet's and Christina's cottages stood. Then +he flung the reins to a fisher-laddie, and bounded up the rocky +platform. Janet was standing in the door of Christina's cottage talking +to the minister. This time she made no opposition to Braelands's +entrance; indeed, there was an expression of pity on her face as she +moved aside to let him pass. + +He went in noiselessly, reverently, suddenly awed by the majesty of +Death's presence. This was so palpable and clear, that all the mere +material work of the house had been set aside. No table had been laid, +no meat cooked; there had been no thought of the usual duties of the +day-time. Life stood still to watch the great mystery transpiring in +the inner room. + +The door to it stood wide open, for the day was hot and windless. +Archie went softly in. He fell on his knees by his dying wife, he +folded her to his heart, he whispered into her fast-closing ears the +despairing words of love, reawakened, when all repentance was too late. +He called her back from the very shoal of time to listen to him. With +heart-broken sobs he begged her forgiveness, and she answered him with +a smile that had caught the glory of heaven. At that hour he cared not +who heard the cry of his agonising love and remorse. Sophy was the +whole of his world, and his anguish, so imperative, brought perforce +the response of the dying woman who loved him yet so entirely. A few +tears--the last she was ever to shed--gathered in her eyes; fondest +words of affection were broken on her lips, her last smile was for him, +her sweet blue eyes set in death with their gaze fixed on his +countenance. + +When the sun went down, Sophy's little life of twenty years was over. +Her last few hours were very peaceful. The doctor had said she would +suffer much; but she did not. Lying in Archie's arms, she slipped +quietly out of her clay tabernacle, and doubtless took the way nearest +to her Father's House. No one knew the exact moment of her +departure--no one but Andrew. He, standing humbly at the foot of her +bed, divined by some wondrous instinct the mystic flitting, and so he +followed her soul with fervent prayer, and a love which spurned the +grave and which was pure enough to venture into His presence with her. + +It was a scene and a moment that Archibald Braelands in his wildest and +most wretched after-days never forgot. The last rays of the setting sun +fell across the death-bed, the wind from the sea came softly through +the open window, the murmur of the waves on the sands made a mournful, +restless undertone to the majestic words of the minister, who, standing +by the bed-side, declared with uplifted hands and in solemnly +triumphant tones the confidence and hope of the departing spirit. + +"'Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations. + +"'Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever Thou hadst formed the +earth and the world; even from everlasting to everlasting, Thou art +God. + +"'For a thousand years in Thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past; +and as a watch in the night. + +"'The days of our years are three-score years and ten; and if by reason +of strength, they be four-score years, yet is their strength labor and +sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.'" + +Then there was a pause; Andrew said "_It is over!_" and Janet took the +cold form from the distracted husband, and closed the eyes forever. + +There was no more now for Archie to do, and he went out of the room +followed by Andrew. + +"Thank you for coming for me, Captain," he said, "you did me a kindness +I shall never forget." + +"I knew you would be glad. I am grieved to trouble you further, +Braelands, at this hour; but the dead must be waited on. It was Sophy's +wish to be buried with her own folk." + +"She is my wife." + +"Nay, you had taken steps to cast her off." + +"She ought to be brought to Braelands." + +"She shall never enter Braelands again. It was a black door to her. +Would you wish hatred and scorn to mock her in her coffin? She bid my +mother see that she was buried in peace and good will and laid with her +own people." + +Archie covered his face with his hands and tried to think. Not even +when dead could he force her into the presence of his mother--and it +was true he had begun to cast her off; a funeral from Braelands would +be a wrong and an insult. But all was in confusion in his mind and he +said: "I cannot think. I cannot decide. I am not able for anything +more. Let me go. To-morrow--I will send word--I will come." + +"Let it be so then. I am sorry for you, Braelands--but if I hear +nothing further, I will follow out Sophy's wishes." + +"You shall hear--but I must have time to think. I am at the last point. +I can bear no more." + +Then Andrew went with him down the cliff, and helped him to his saddle; +and afterwards he walked along the beach till he came to a lonely spot +hid in the rocks, and there he threw himself face downward on the +sands, and "communed with his own heart and was still." At this supreme +hour, all that was human flitted and faded away, and the primal essence +of self was overshadowed by the presence of the Infinite. When the +midnight tide flowed, the bitterness of the sorrow was over, and he had +reached that serene depth of the soul which enabled him to rise to his +feet and say "Thy Will be done!" + +The next day they looked for some communication from Braelands; yet +they did not suffer this expectation to interfere with Sophy's explicit +wish, and the preparations for her funeral went on without regard to +Archie's promise. It was well so, for there was no redemption of it. He +did not come again to Pittendurie, and if he sent any message, it was +not permitted to reach them. He was notified, however, of the funeral +ceremony, which was set for the Sabbath following her death, and Andrew +was sure he would at least come for one last look at the wife whom he +had loved so much and wronged so deeply. He did not do so. + +Shrouded in white, her hands full of white asters, Sophy was laid to +rest in the little wind blown kirkyard of Pittendurie. It was said by +some that Braelands watched the funeral from afar off, others declared +that he lay in his bed raving and tossing with fever, but this or that, +he was not present at her burial. Her own kin--who were fishers--laid +the light coffin on a bier made of oars, and carried it with psalm +singing to the grave. It was Andrew who threw on the coffin the first +earth. It was Andrew who pressed the cover of green turf over the small +mound, and did the last tender offices that love could offer. Oh, so +small a mound! A little child could have stepped over it, and yet, to +Andrew, it was wider than all the starry spaces. + +The day was a lovely one, and the kirkyard was crowded to see little +Sophy join the congregation of the dead. After the ceremony was over +the minister had a good thought, he said: "We will not go back to the +kirk, but we will stay here, and around the graves of our friends and +kindred praise God for the 'sweet enlargement' of their death." Then he +sang the first line of the paraphrase, "O God of Bethel by whose hand," +and the people took it from his lips, and made holy songs and words of +prayer fill the fresh keen atmosphere and mingle with the cries of the +sea-birds and the hushed complaining of the rising waters. And that +afternoon many heard for the first time those noble words from the Book +of Wisdom that, during the more religious days of the middle ages, were +read not only at the grave-side of the beloved, but also at every +anniversary of their death. + +"But if the righteous be cut off early by death; she shall be at rest. + +"For honor standeth not in length of days; neither is it computed by +number of years. + +"She pleased God and was beloved, and she was taken away from living +among sinners. + +"Her place was changed, lest evil should mar her understanding or +falsehood beguile her soul. + +"She was made perfect in a little while, and finished the work of many +years. + +"For her soul pleased God, and therefore He made haste to lead her +forth out of the midst of iniquity. + +"And the people saw it and understood it not; neither considered they +this-- + +"That the grace of God and His mercy are upon His saints, and His +regard unto His Elect." + +Chief among the mourners was Sophy's aunt Griselda. She now bitterly +repented the unwise and unkind "No." Sophy was dearer to her than she +thought, and when she had talked over her wrongs with Janet, her +indignation knew no bounds. It showed itself first of all to the author +of these wrongs. Madame came early to her shop on Monday morning, and +presuming on her last confidential talk with Miss Kilgour, began the +conversation on that basis. + +"You see, Miss Kilgour," she said with a sigh, "what that poor girl's +folly has led her to." + +"I see what she has come to. I'm not blaming Sophy, however." + +"Well, whoever is to blame--and I suppose Braelands should have been +more patient with the troubles he called to himself--I shall have to +put on 'blacks' in consequence. It is a great expense, and a very +useless one; but people will talk if I do not go into mourning for my +son's wife." + +"I wouldn't do it, if I was you." + +"Society obliges. You must make me two gowns at least." + +"I will not sew a single stitch for you." + +"Not sew for me?" + +"Never again; not if you paid me a guinea a stitch." + +"What do you mean? Are you in your senses?" + +"Just as much as poor Sophy was. And I'll never forgive myself for +listening to your lies about my niece. You ought to be ashamed of +yourself. Your cruelties to her are the talk of the whole +country-side." + +"How dare you call me a liar?" + +"When I think of wee Sophy in her coffin, I could call you something +far worse." + +"You are an impertinent woman." + +"Ah well, I never broke the Sixth Command. And if I was you, Madame, I +wouldn't put 'blacks' on about it. But 'blacks' or no 'blacks,' you can +go to some other body to make them for you; for I want none of your +custom, and I'll be obliged to you to get from under my roof. This is a +decent, God-fearing house." + +Madame had left before the end of Griselda's orders; but she followed +her to the door, and delivered her last sentence as Madame was stepping +into her carriage. She was furious at the truths so uncompromisingly +told her, and still more so at the woman who had been their mouthpiece. +"A creature whom I have made! actually made!" she almost screamed. "She +would be out at service today but for me! The shameful, impertinent, +ungrateful wretch!" She ordered Thomas to drive her straight back +home, and, quivering with indignation, went to her son's room. He was +dressed, but lying prone upon his bed; his mother's complaining +irritated his mood beyond his endurance. He rose up in a passion; his +white haggard face showed how deeply sorrow and remorse had ploughed +into his very soul. + +"Mother!" he cried, "you will have to hear the truth, in one way or +another, from every one. I tell you myself that you are not guiltless +of Sophy's death--neither am I." + +"It is a lie." + +"Do go out of my room. This morning you are unbearable." + +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Are you going to permit people to +insult your mother, right and left, without a word? Have you no sense +of honour and decency?" + +"No, for I let them insult the sweetest wife ever a man had. I am a +brute, a monster, not fit to live. I wish I was lying by Sophy's side. +I am ashamed to look either men or women in the face." + +"You are simply delirious with the fever you have had." + +"Then have some mercy on me. I want to be quiet." + +"But I have been grossly insulted." + +"We shall have to get used to that, and bear it as we can. We deserve +all that can be said of us--or to us." Then he threw himself on his bed +again and refused to say another word. Madame scolded and complained +and pitied herself, and appealed to God and man against the wrongs she +suffered, and finally went into a paroxysm of hysterical weeping. But +Archie took no notice of the wordy tempest, so that Madame was +confounded and frightened, by an indifference so unusual and unnatural. + +Weeks of continual sulking or recrimination passed drearily away. +Archie, in the first tide of his remorse, fed himself on the miseries +which had driven Sophy to her grave. He interviewed the servants and +heard all they had to tell him. He had long conversations with Miss +Kilgour, and made her describe over and over Sophy's despairing look +and manner the morning she ran away. For the poor woman found a sort of +comfort in blaming herself and in receiving meekly the hard words +Archie could give her. He visited Mrs. Stirling in regard to Sophy's +sanity, and heard from that lady a truthful report of all that had +passed in her presence. He went frequently to Janet's cottage, and took +all her home thrusts and all her scornful words in a manner so humble, +so contrite, and so heart-broken, that the kind old woman began finally +to forgive and comfort him. And the outcome of all these interviews and +conversations Madame had to bear. Her son, in his great sorrow, threw +off entirely the yoke of her control. He found his own authority and +rather abused it. She had hoped the final catastrophe would draw him +closer to her; hoped the coolness of friends and acquaintances would +make him more dependent on her love and sympathy. It acted in the +opposite direction. The public seldom wants two scapegoats. Madame's +ostracism satisfied its idea of justice. Every one knew Archie was very +much under her control. Every one could see that he suffered dreadfully +after Sophy's death. Every one came promptly to the opinion that Madame +only was to blame in the matter. "The poor husband" shared the popular +sympathy with Sophy. + +However, in the long run, he had his penalty to pay, and the penalty +came, as was most just, through Marion Glamis. Madame quickly noticed +that after her loss of public respect, Marion's affection grew colder. +At the first, she listened to the tragedy of Sophy's illness and death +with a decent regard for Madame's feelings on the subject. When Madame +pooh-poohed the idea of Sophy being in an hospital for weeks, unknown, +Marion also thought it "most unlikely;" when Madame was "pretty sure +the girl had been in London during the hospital interlude," Marion also +thought, "it might be so; Captain Binnie was a very taking man." When +Madame said, "Sophy's whole conduct was only excusable on the +supposition of her unaccountability," Marion also thought "she did act +queerly at times." + +Even these admissions were not made with the warmth that Madame +expected from Marion, and they gradually grew fainter and more general. +She began to visit Braelands less and less frequently, and, when +reproached for her remissness, said, "Archie was now a widower, and she +did not wish people to think she was running after him;" and her manner +was so cold and conventional that Madame could only look at her in +amazement. She longed to remind her of their former conversations about +Archie, but the words died on her lips. Marion looked quite capable of +denying them, and she did not wish to quarrel with her only visitor. + +The truth was that Marion had her own designs regarding Archie, and she +did not intend Madame to interfere with them. She had made up her mind +to marry Braelands, but she was going to have him as the spoil of her +own weapons--not as a gift from his mother. And she was not so blinded +by hatred as to think Archie could ever be won by the abuse of Sophy. +On the contrary, she very cautiously began to talk of her with pity, +and even admiration. She fell into all Archie's opinions and moods on +the subject, and declared with warmth and positiveness that she had +always opposed Madame's extreme measures. In the long run, it came to +pass that Archie could talk comfortably with Marion about Sophy, for +she always reminded him of some little act of kindness to his wife, or +of some instance where he had decidedly taken her part, so that, +gradually, she taught him to believe that, after all, he had not been +so very much to blame. + +In these tactics, Miss Glamis was influenced by the most powerful of +motives--self-preservation. She had by no means escaped the public +censure, and in that set of society she most desired to please, had +been decidedly included in the polite ostracism meted out to Madame. +Lovers she had none, and she began to realise, when too late, that the +connection of her name with that of Archie Braelands had been a wrong +to her matrimonial prospects that it would be hard to remedy. In fact, +as the winter went on, she grew hopeless of undoing the odium generated +by her friendship with Madame and her flirtation with Madame's son. + +"And I shall make no more efforts at conciliation," she said angrily to +herself one day, after finding her name had been dropped from Lady +Blair's visiting-list; "I will now marry Archie. My fortune and his +combined will enable us to live where and how we please. Father must +speak to him on the subject at once" + +That night she happened to find the Admiral in an excellent mood for +her purpose. The Laird of Binin had not "changed hats" with him when +they met on the highway, and he fumed about the circumstance as if it +had been a mortal insult. + +"I'll never lift my hat to him again, Marion, let alone open my mouth," +he cried; "no, not even if we are sitting next to each other at the +club dinner. What wrong have I ever done him? Have I ever done him a +favour that he should insult me?" + +"It is that dreadful Braelands's business. That insolent, selfish, +domineering old woman has ruined us socially. I wish I had never seen +her face." + +"You seemed to be fond enough of her once." + +"I never liked her; I now detest her. The way she treated Archie's wife +was abominable. There is no doubt of that. Father, I am going to take +this situation by the horns of its dilemma. I intend to marry Archie. +No one in the county can afford to snub Braelands. He is popular and +likely to be more so; he is rich and influential, and I also am rich. +Together we may lead public opinion--or defy it. My name has been +injured by my friendship with him. Archie Braelands must give me his +name." + +"By St. Andrew, he shall!" answered the irritable old man. "I will see +he does. I ought to have considered this before, Marion. Why did you +not show me my duty?" + +"It is early enough; it is now only eight months since his wife died." + +The next morning as Archie was riding slowly along the highway, the +Admiral joined him. "Come home to lunch with me," he said, and Archie +turned his horse and went. Marion was particularly sympathetic and +charming. She subdued her spirits to his pitch; she took the greatest +interest in his new political aspirations; she listened to his plans +about the future with smiling approvals, until he said he was thinking +of going to the United States for a few months. He wished to study +Republicanism on its own ground, and to examine, in their working +conditions, several new farming implements and expedients that he +thought of introducing. Then Marion rose and left the room. She looked +at her father as she did so, and he understood her meaning. + +"Braelands," he said, when they were alone, "I have something to say +which you must take into your consideration before you leave Scotland. +It is about Marion." + +"Nothing ill with Marion, I hope?" + +"Nothing but what you can cure. She is suffering very much, socially, +from the constant association of her name with yours." + +"Sir?" + +"Allow me to explain. At the time of your sweet little wife's death, +Marion was constantly included in the blame laid to Madame Braelands. +You know now how unjustly." + +"I would rather not have that subject discussed." + +"But, by Heaven, it must be discussed! I have, at Marion's desire, said +nothing hitherto, because we both saw how much you were suffering; but, +sir, if you are going away from Fife, you must remember before you go +that the living have claims as well as the dead." + +"If Marion has any claim on me, I am here, willing to redeem it." + +"'If,' Braelands; it is not a question of 'if.' Marion's name has been +injured by its connection with your name. You know the remedy. I expect +you to behave like a gentleman in this matter." + +"You expect me to marry Marion?" + +"Precisely. There is no other effectual way to right her." + +"I see Marion in the garden; I will go and speak to her." + +"Do, my dear fellow. I should like this affair pleasantly settled." + +Marion was sitting on the stone bench round the sun dial. She had a +white silk parasol over her head, and her lap was full of +apple-blossoms. A pensive air softened her handsome face, and as Archie +approached, she looked up with a smile that was very attractive. He sat +down at her side and began to finger the pink and white flowers. He was +quite aware that he was tampering with his fate as well; but at his +very worst, Archie had a certain chivalry about women that only needed +to be stirred by a word or a look indicating injustice. He was not keen +to perceive; but when once his eyes were opened, he was very keen to +feel. + +"Marion," he said kindly, taking her hand in his, "have you suffered +much for my fault?" + +"I have suffered, Archie." + +"Why did you not tell me before?" + +"You have been so full of trouble. How could I add to it?" + +"You have been blamed?" + +"Yes, very much." + +"There is only one way to right you, Marion; I offer you my name and my +hand. Will you take it?" + +"A woman wants love. If I thought you could ever love me--" + +"We are good friends. You have been my comforter in many miserable +hours. I will make no foolish protestations; but you know whether you +can trust me. And that we should come to love one another very +sincerely is more than likely." + +"I _do_ love you. Have I not always loved you?" + +And this frank avowal was just the incentive Archie required. His heart +was hungry for love; he surrendered himself very easily to the charming +of affection. Before they returned to the house, the compact was made, +and Marion Glamis and Archibald Braelands were definitely betrothed. + +As Archie rode home in the gloaming, it astonished him a little to find +that he felt a positive satisfaction in the prospect of telling his +mother of his engagement--a satisfaction he did not analyze, but which +was doubtless compounded of a sense of justice, and of a not very +amiable conviction that the justice would not be more agreeable than +justice usually is. Indeed, the haste with which he threw himself from +his horse and strode into the Braelands's parlour, and the hardly +veiled air of defiance with which he muttered as he went "It's her own +doing; let her be satisfied with her work," showed a heart that had +accepted rather than chosen its destiny, and that rebelled a little +under the constraint. + +Madame was sitting alone in the waning light; her son had been away +from her all day, and had sent her no excuse for his detention. She was +both angry and sorrowful; and there had been a time when Archie would +have been all conciliation and regret. That time was past. His mother +had forfeited all his respect; there was nothing now between them but +that wondrous tie of motherhood which a child must be utterly devoid of +grace and feeling to forget. Archie never quite forgot it. In his worst +moods he would tell himself, "after all she is my mother. It was +because she loved me. Her inhumanity was really jealousy, and jealousy +is cruel as the grave." But this purely natural feeling lacked now all +the confidence of mutual respect and trust. It was only a natural +feeling; it had lost all the nobler qualities springing from a +spiritual and intellectual interpretation of their relationship. + +"You have been away all day, Archie," Madame complained. "I have been +most unhappy about you." + +"I have been doing some important business." + +"May I ask what it was?" + +"I have been wooing a wife." + +"And your first wife not eight months in her grave!" + +"It was unavoidable. I was in a manner forced to it." + +"Forced? The idea! Are you become a coward?" + +"Yes," he answered wearily; "anything before a fresh public discussion +of my poor Sophy's death." + +"Oh! Who is the lady?" + +"There is only one lady possible." + +"Marion Glamis?" + +"I thought you could say 'who'." + +"I hope to heaven you will never marry that woman! She is false from +head to foot. I would rather see another fisher-girl here than Marion +Glamis." + +"You yourself have made it impossible for me to marry any one but +Marion; though, believe me, if I could find another 'fisher-girl' like +Sophy, I would defy everything, and gladly and proudly marry her +to-morrow." + +"That is understood; you need not reiterate. I see through Miss Glamis +now, the deceitful, ungrateful creature!" + +"Mother, I am going to marry Miss Glamis. You must teach yourself to +speak respectfully of her." + +"I hate her worse than I hated Sophy. I am the most wretched of women;" +and her air of misery was so genuine and hopeless that it hurt Archie +very sensibly. + +"I am sorry," he said; "but you, and you only, are to blame. I have no +need to go over your plans and plots for this very end; I have no need +to remind you how you seasoned every hour of poor Sophy's life with +your regrets that Marion was _not_ my wife. These circumstances would +not have influenced me, but her name has been mixed up with mine and +smirched in the contact." + +"And you will make a woman with a 'smirched' name Mistress of +Braelands? Have you no family pride?" + +"I will wrong no woman, if I know it; that is my pride. If I wrong +them, I will right them. However, I give myself no credit about +righting Marion, her father made me do so." + +"My humiliation is complete, I shall die of shame." + +"Oh, no! You will do as I do--make the best of the affair. You can talk +of Marion's fortune and of her relationship to the Earl of Glamis, and +so on." + +"That nasty, bullying old man! And you to be frightened by him! It is +too shameful." + +"I was not frightened by him; but I have dragged one poor innocent +woman's name through the dust and dirt of public discussion, and, +before God, Mother, I would rather die than do the same wrong to +another. You know the Admiral's temper; once roused to action, he would +spare no one, not even his own daughter. It was then my duty to protect +her." + +"I have nursed a viper, and it has bitten me. To-night I feel as if the +bite would be fatal." + +"Marion is not a viper; she is only a woman bent on protecting herself. +However, I wish you would remember that she is to be your +daughter-in-law, and try and meet her on a pleasant basis. Any more +scandal about Braelands will compel me to shut up this house absolutely +and go abroad to live." + +The next day Madame put all her pride and hatred out of sight and went +to call on Marion with congratulations; but the girl was not deceived. +She gave her the conventional kiss, and said all that it was proper to +say; but Madame's overtures were not accepted. + +"It is only a flag of truce," thought Madame as she drove homeward, +"and after she is married to Archie, it will be war to the knife-hilt +between us. I can feel that, and I would not fear it if I was sure of +Archie. But alas, he is so changed! He is so changed!" + +Marion's thoughts were not more friendly, and she did not scruple to +express them in words to her father. "That dreadful old woman was here +this afternoon," she said. "She tried to flatter me; she tried to make +me believe she was glad I was going to marry Archie. What a consummate +old hypocrite she is! I wonder if she thinks I will live in the same +house with her?" + +"Of course she thinks so." + +"I will not. Archie and I have agreed to marry next Christmas. She will +move into her own house in time to hold her Christmas there." + +"I wouldn't insist on that, Marion. She has lived at Braelands nearly +all her life. The Dower House is but a wretched place after it. The +street in which it stands has become not only poor, but busy, and the +big garden that was round it when the home was settled on her was sold +in Archie's father's time, bit by bit, for shops and a preserving +factory. You cannot send her to the Dower House." + +"She cannot stay at Braelands. She charges the very air of any house +she is in with hatred and quarrelling. Every one knows she has saved +money; if she does not like the Dower House, she can go to Edinburgh, +or London, or anywhere she likes--the further away from Braelands, the +better." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE "LITTLE SOPHY" + + +Madame did not go to the Dower House. Archie was opposed to such a +humiliation of the proud woman, and a compromise was made by which she +was to occupy the house in Edinburgh which had been the Braelands's +residence during a great part of every winter. It was a handsome +dwelling, and Madame settled herself there in great splendour and +comfort; but she was a wretched woman in spite of her surroundings. She +had only unhappy memories of the past, she had no loving anticipations +for the future. She knew that her son was likely to be ruled by the +woman at his side, and she hoped nothing from Marion Glamis. The big +Edinburgh house with its heavy dark furniture, its shadowy draperies, +and its stately gloom, became a kind of death chamber in which she +slowly went to decay, body and soul. + +No one missed her much or long in Largo, and in Edinburgh she found it +impossible to gather round herself the company to which she had been +wont. Unpleasant rumours somehow clung to her name; no one said much +about her, but she was not popular. The fine dwelling in St. George's +Square had seen much gay company in its spacious rooms; but Madame +found it a hopeless task to re-assemble it. She felt this want of +favour keenly, though she need not have altogether blamed herself for +it, had she not been so inordinately conscious of her own personality. +For Archie had undoubtedly, in previous winters, been the great social +attraction. His fine manners, his good nature, his handsome appearance, +his wealth, and his importance as a matrimonial venture, had crowded +the receptions which Madame believed owed their success to her own tact +and influence. + +Gradually, however, the truth dawned upon her; and then, in utter +disgust, she retired from a world that hardly missed her, and which had +long only tolerated her for the accidents of her connections and +surroundings. Her disposition for saving grew into a passion; she +became miserly in the extreme, and punished herself night and day in +order that she might add continually to the pile of hoarded money which +Marion afterwards spent with a lavish prodigality. Occasionally her +thin, gray face, and her haggard figure wrapped in a black shawl, were +seen at the dusty windows of the room she occupied. The rest of the +house she closed. The windows were hoarded up and the doors padlocked, +and yet she lived in constant fear of attacks from thieves on her life +for her money. Finally she dismissed her only servant lest she might be +in league with such characters; and thus, haunted by terrors of all +kinds and by memories she could not destroy, she dragged on for twenty +years a life without hope and without love, and died at last with no +one but her lawyer and her physician at her side. She had sent for +Archie, but he was in Italy, and Marion she did not wish to see. Her +last words were uttered to herself. "I have had a poor life!" she +moaned with a desperate calmness that was her only expression of the +vast and terrible desolation of her heart and soul. + +"A poor life," said the lawyer, "and yet she has left twenty-six +thousand pounds to her son." + +"A poor life, and a most lonely flitting," reiterated her physician +with awe and sadness. + +However, she herself had no idea when she removed to Edinburgh of +leading so "poor a life." She expected to make her house the centre of +a certain grave set of her own class and age; she expected Archie to +visit her often; she expected to find many new interests to occupy her +feelings and thoughts. But she was too old to transplant. Sophy's death +and its attending circumstances had taken from her both personally and +socially more than she knew. Archie, after his marriage, led entirely +by Marion and her ways and desires, never went towards Edinburgh. The +wretched old lady soon began to feel herself utterly deserted; and when +her anger at this position had driven love out of her heart, she fell +an easy prey to the most sordid, miserable, and degrading of passions, +the hoarding of money. Nor was it until death opened her eyes that she +perceived she had had "a poor life." + +She began this Edinburgh phase of it under a great irritation. Knowing +that Archie would not marry until Christmas, and that after the +marriage he and Marion were going to London until the spring, she saw +no reason for her removal from Braelands until their return. Marion had +different plans. She induced Archie to sell off the old furniture, and +to redecorate and re-furnish Braelands from garret to cellar. It gave +Madame the first profound shock of her new life. The chairs and tables +she had used sold at auction to the tradespeople of Largo and the +farmers of the country-side! She could not understand how Archie could +endure the thought. Under her influence, he never would have endured +it; but Archie Braelands smiled on, and coaxed, and sweetly dictated by +Marion Glamis, was ready enough to do all that Marion wished. + +"Of course the old furniture must be sold," she said. "Why not? It will +help to buy the new. We don't keep our old gowns and coats; why then +our old chairs and tables?" + +"They have associations." + +"Nonsense, Archie! So has my white parasol. Shall I keep it in tissue +paper forever? Such sentimental ideas are awfully behind the times. +Your grandfather's coat and shoes will not dress you to-day; neither, +my dear, can his notions and sentiments direct you." + +So Braelands was turned, as the country people said, "out of the +windows," and Madame hastened away from the sight of such desecration. +It made Archie popular, however. The artisans found profitable work in +the big rooms, and the county families looked forward to the +entertainments they were to enjoy in the renovated mansion. It restored +Marion also to general estimation. There was a future before her now +which it would be pleasant to share, and every one considered that her +engagement to Archie exonerated her from all participation in Madame's +cruelty. "She has always declared herself innocent," said the +minister's wife, "and Braelands's marriage to her affirms it in the +most positive manner. Those who have been unjust to Miss Glamis have +now no excuse for their injustice." This authoritative declaration in +Marion's favour had such a decided effect that every invitation to her +marriage was accepted, and the ceremony, though purposely denuded of +everything likely to recall the tragedy now to be forgotten, was really +a very splendid private affair. + +On the Sabbath before it, Archie took in the early morning a walk to +the kirkyard at Pittendurie. He was going to bid Sophy a last farewell. +Henceforward he must try and prevent her memory troubling his life and +influencing his moods and motives. It was a cold, chilling morning, and +the great immensity of the ocean spread away to the occult shores of +the poles. The sky was grey and sombre, the sea cloudy and unquiet; and +far off on the eastern horizon, a mysterious portent was slowly rolling +onward. + +He crossed the stile and walked slowly forward. On his right hand there +was a large, newly-made grave with an oar standing upright at its head, +and some inscription rudely painted on it. His curiosity was aroused, +and he went closer to read the words: "_Be comforted! Alexander Murray +has prevailed_." The few words so full of hope and triumph, moved him +strangely. He remembered the fisherman Murray, whose victory over death +was so certainly announced; and his soul, disregarding all the +forbidding of priests and synods, instantly sent a prayer after the +departed conqueror. "Wherever he is," he thought, "surely he is closer +to Heaven than I am." + +He had been in the kirkyard often when none but God saw him, and his +feet knew well the road to Sophy's grave. There was a slender shaft of +white marble at the head, and Andrew Binnie stood looking at it. +Braelands walked forward till only the little green mound separated +them. Their eyes met and filled with tears. They clasped hands across +her grave and buried every sorrowful memory, every sense of wrong or +blame, in its depth and height. Andrew turned silently away; Braelands +remained there some minutes longer. The secret of that invisible +communion remained forever his own secret. Those only who have had +similar experiences know that souls who love each other may, and can, +exchange impressions across immensity. + +He found Andrew sitting on the stile, gazing thoughtfully over the sea +at the pale grey wall of inconceivable height which was drawing nearer +and nearer. "The fog is coming," he said, "we shall soon be going into +cloud after cloud of it." + +"They chilled and hurt her once. She is now beyond them." + +"She is in Heaven. God be thanked for His great mercy to her!" + +"If we only knew something _sure_. Where is Heaven? Who can tell?" + +"In Thy presence is fullness of joy, and at Thy right hand pleasures +forevermore. Where God is, there is Heaven." + +"Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard." + +"But God _hath_ revealed it; not a _future_ revelation, Braelands, but +a _present_ one." And then Andrew slowly, and with pauses full of +feeling and intelligence, went on to make clear to Braelands the +Present Helper in every time of need. He quoted mainly from the Bible, +his one source of all knowledge, and his words had the splendid +vagueness of the Hebrew, and lifted the mind into the illimitable. And +as they talked, the fog enveloped them, one drift after another passing +by in dim majesty, till the whole world seemed a spectacle of +desolation, and a breath of deadly chillness forced them to rise and +wrap their plaids closely round them. So they parted at the kirk yard +gate, and never, never again met in this world. + +Braelands turned his face towards Marion and a new life, and Andrew +went back to his ship with a new and splendid interest. It began in +wondering, "whether there was any good in a man abandoning himself to a +noble, but vain regret? Was there no better way to pay a tribute to the +beloved dead?" Braelands's costly monument did not realise his +conception of this possibility; but as he rowed back to his ship in the +gathering storm, a thought came into his mind with all the assertion of +a clang of steel, and he cried out to his Inner Man. + +"_That_, oh my soul, is what I will do; _that_ is what will keep my +love's name living and lovely in the hearts of her people." + +His project was not one to be accomplished without much labour and +self-denial. It would require a great deal of money, and he would have +to save with conscientious care many years to compass his desire, which +was to build a Mission Ship for the deep sea fishermen Twelve years he +worked and saved, and then the ship was built; a strong steam-launch, +able to buffet and bear the North Sea when its waves were running wild +over everything. She was provided with all appliances for religious +comfort and teaching; she had medicines for the sick and surgical help +for the wounded; she carried every necessary protection against the +agonising "sea blisters" which torture the fishermen in the winter +season. And this vessel of many comforts was called the "Sophy Traill." + +She is still busy about her work of mercy. Many other Mission Ships now +traverse the great fishing-fleets of the North Sea, and carry hope and +comfort to the fishermen who people its grey, wild waters; but none is +so well beloved by them as the "Little Sophy." When the boats lie at +their nets on a summer's night, it is on the "Little Sophy" that "Rock +of Ages" is started and then taken up by the whole fleet. And when the +stormy winds of winter blow great guns, then the "Little Sophy," flying +her bright colours in the daytime and showing her many lights at night, +is always rolling about among the boats, blowing her whistle to tell +them she is near by, or sending off help in her lifeboat, or steaming +after a smack in distress. + +Fifteen years after Andrew and Archie parted at the kirkyard, Archie +came to the knowledge first of Andrew's living monument to the girl +they had both loved so much. He was coming from Norway in a yacht with +a few friends, and they were caught in a heavy, easterly gale. In a few +hours there was a tremendous sea, and the wind rapidly rose to a +hurricane. The "Little Sophy" steamed after the helpless craft and got +as near to her as possible; but as she lowered her lifeboat, she saw +the yacht stagger, stop, and then founder. The tops of her masts seemed +to meet, she had broken her back, and the seas flew sheer over her. + +The lifeboat picked up three men from her, and one of them was Archie +Braelands. He was all but dead from exposure and buffeting; but the +surgeon of the Mission Ship brought him back to life. + +It was some hours after he had been taken on board; the storm had gone +away northward as the sun set. There was the sound of an organ and of +psalm-singing in his ears, and yet he knew that he was in a ship on a +tossing sea, and he opened his eyes, and asked weakly: + +"Where am I?" + +The surgeon stooped to him and answered in a cheery voice: "_On the +'Sophy Traill!'_" + +A cry, shrill as that of a fainting woman, parted Archie's lips, and he +kept muttering in a half-delirious stupor all night long, "_The Sophy +Traill! The Sophy Traill!_" In a few days he recovered strength and was +able to leave the boat which had been his salvation; but in those few +days he heard and saw much that greatly influenced for the noblest ends +his future life. + +All through the borders of Fife, people talked of Archie's strange +deliverance by this particular ship, and the old story was told over +again in a far gentler spirit. Time had softened ill-feeling, and +Archie's career was touched with the virtue of the tenderly remembered +dead. + +"He was but a thoughtless creature before he lost wee Sophy," Janet +said, as she discussed the matter; "and now, where will you find a +better or a busier man? Fife's proud of him, and Scotland's proud of +him, and if England hasn't the sense of discerning _who_ she ought to +make a Prime Minister of, that isn't Braelands's fault." + +"For all that," said Christina, sitting among her boys and girls, +"Sophy ought to have married Andrew. She would have been alive to-day +if she had." + +"You aren't always an oracle, Christina, and you have a deal to learn +yet; but I'm not saying but what poor Sophy did make a mistake in her +marriage. Folks should marry in their own class, and in their own +faith, and among their own folk, or else ninety-nine times out of a +hundred they marry sorrow; but I'm not so sure that being alive to-day +would have been a miracle of pleasure and good fortune. If she had had +bairns, as ill to bring up and as noisy and fashious as yours are, she +is well spared the trouble of them." + +"You have spoiled the bairns yourself, Mother. If I ever check or scold +them, you are aye sure to take their part." + +"Because you never know when a bairn is to blame and when its mother is +to blame. I forgot to teach you that lesson." + +Christina laughed and said something about it "being a grand thing +Andrew had no lads and lasses," and then Janet held, her head up +proudly, and said with an air of severe admonition: + +"It's well enough for you and the like of you to have lads and lasses; +but my boy Andrew has a duty far beyond it, he has the 'Sophy Traill' +to victual and store, and send out to save souls and bodies." + +"Lads and lasses aren't bad things, Mother." + +"They'll be all the better for the 'Sophy Traill' and the other boats +like her. That laddie o' yours that will be off to sea whether you like +it or not, will give you many a fear and heartache. Andrew's 'boat of +blessing' goes where she is bid to go, and does as she is told to do. +That's the difference." + +Difference or not, his "boat of blessing" was Andrew's joy and pride. +She had been his salvation, inasmuch as she had consecrated that +passion for hoarding money which was the weak side of his character. +She had given to his dead love a gracious memory in the hearts of +thousands, and "a name far better than that of sons and daughters." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Knight of the Nets, by Amelia E. 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