THE DEW OF THEIR YOUTH

ByS. R. CROCKETT

Author Of'The Lilac Sunbonnet, ' 'The Black Douglas, ' 'Strong Mac, ''Rose Of The Wilderness, ' etc. 

HODDER AND STOUGHTONLONDON--MCMX

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Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, Bread Street Hill, E. C. , andBungay, Suffolk. 

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 CONTENTS

 PART I

 CHAPTER I PAGEThe Haunted House of Marnhoul 1

 CHAPTER II'In the Name of the Law!' 10

 CHAPTER IIIMiss Irma gives an Audience 18

 CHAPTER IVFirst Foot in the Haunted House 22

 CHAPTER VThe Censor of Morals 33

 CHAPTER VIThe Apotheosis of Agnes Anne 42

 CHAPTER VIIThe Doctor's Advent 51

 CHAPTER VIIIKate of the Shore 62

 CHAPTER IXThe Eve of St. John 73

 CHAPTER XThe Crowbar in the Wood 82

 CHAPTER XIAgnes Anne's Experiences as a Spy 87

 CHAPTER XIIThe Fight in the Dark 96

 CHAPTER XIIIA World of Ink and Fire 101

 CHAPTER XIVThe White Free Traders 109

 PART II

 CHAPTER XVMy Grandmother speaks her Mind 118

 CHAPTER XVICastle Connoway 127

 CHAPTER XVIIThe Man 'Doon-the-hoose' 133

 CHAPTER XVIIIThe Transfiguration of Aunt Jen 138

 CHAPTER XIXLoaded-pistol Pollixfen 146

 CHAPTER XXThe Real Mr. Poole 155

 CHAPTER XXIWhile we sat by the Fire 162

 PART III

 CHAPTER XXIIBoyd Connoway's Evidence 170

 CHAPTER XXIIIThe Sharp Spur 184

 CHAPTER XXIVThe College of King James 193

 CHAPTER XXVSatan Finds 201

 CHAPTER XXVIPerfidy, thy Name is Woman! 209

 CHAPTER XXVIIThen, Heigh-ho, the Molly!' 218

 CHAPTER XXVIIILove and the Logician 227

 CHAPTER XXIXThe Avalanche. 233

 CHAPTER XXXThe Vanishing Lady 244

 CHAPTER XXXIwice Married 254

 CHAPTER XXXIIThe Little House on the Meadows 262

 CHAPTER XXXIIIAnd the Door was Shut 268

 CHAPTER XXXIVA Visit from Boyd Connoway 274

 CHAPTER XXXVThe Valley of the Shadow 280

 CHAPTER XXXVIThe Supplanter 288

 CHAPTER XXXVIIThe Return of the Serpent to Eden Valley 297

 CHAPTER XXXVIIIBy Water and the Word 305

 CHAPTER XXXIXThe Wicked Flag 313

 CHAPTER XLThe Great 'Tabernacle' Revival 322

 CHAPTER XLIIn the Wood Parlour 330

 CHAPTER XLIIThe Place of Dreams 338

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PART I

CHAPTER I

THE HAUNTED HOUSE OF MARNHOUL

I, Duncan MacAlpine, school-master's son and uncovenanted assistant tomy father, stood watching the dust which the Highflyer coach had leftbetween me and Sandy Webb, the little guard thereof, as he whirledonward into the eye of the west. It was the hour before afternoonschool, and already I could hear my father's voice within declaiming asto unnecessary datives and the lack of all feeling for style in theLatin prose of the seniors. 

A score of the fifth class, next in age and rank, were playing atrounders in an angle of the court, and I was supposed to be watchingthem. In reality I was more interested in a group of tall girls who werepatrolling up and down under the shade of the trees at the head of theirplayground--where no boy but I dare enter, and even I only officially. For in kindly Scots fashion, the Eden Valley Academy was not only opento all comers of both sexes and ages, but was set in the midst of a woodof tall pines, in which we seniors were permitted to walk at our guiseand pleasure during the "intervals. "

Here the ground was thick and elastic with dry pine needles, two orthree feet of them firmly compacted, and smelling delightfully of resinafter a shower. Indeed, at that moment I was interested enough to letthe boys run a little wild at their game, because, you see, I had foundout within the last six months that girls were not made only to becalled names and to put out one's tongue at. 

There was, in especial, one--a dark, slim girl, very lissom of body andthe best runner in the school. She wore a grey-green dress of roughstuff hardly ankle-long, and once when the bell-rope broke and I hadsprained my ankle she mounted instead of me, running along the riggingof the roofs to ring the bell as active as a lamplighter. I liked herfor this, also because she was pretty, or at least the short grey-greendress made her look it. Her name was Gertrude Gower, but GertyGreensleeves was what she was most frequently called, except, of course, when I called the roll before morning and afternoon. 

I had had a talk with Sandy Webb, the guard, as he paused to take in themails. My father was also village postmaster, but, though there was agirl in the office to sell stamps and revenue licences, and my motherbehind to say "that she did not know" in reply to any questionwhatsoever, I was much more postmaster than my father, though I supposehe really had the responsibility. 

Sandy Webb always brought a deal of news to Eden Valley. And as I hadofficial and private dealings with him--the public relating to way-billsand bag-receipts, and the private to a noggin of homebrewed out of thebarrel in the corner of our cellar--he always gave me the earliest news, before he hurried away--as it were, the firstlings of the flock. 

"There's a stir at Cairn Edward, " he said casually, as he set down hiswooden cup. "John Aitken, the mason, has fallen off a scaffolding andbroken----"

"Not his leg?" I interrupted anxiously, for John was a third cousin ofmy mother's. 

"No, more miraculous than that!" the guard averred serenely. 

"His back?" I gasped--for John Aitken, as well as a relation, was afellow-elder of my father's, and the two often met upon sacramentaloccasions. 

"No, " said Sandy, enjoying his grave little surprise, "only the trams ofhis mortar-barrow! And there's that noisy tinkler body, Tim Cleary, theShire Irishman, in the lock-up for wanting to fight the Provost ofDumfries, and he'll get eight days for certain. But the Provost ispaying the lodgings of his wife and family in the meantime. It will be arest for them, poor things. "

It was at this moment that Sandy Webb, square, squat, many-wrinkled man, sounded his horn and swung himself into his place as the driver, AndrewHaugh, gathered up his reins. But I knew his way, and waitedexpectantly. He always kept the pick of his news to the end, then let itoff like a fire-cracker, and departed in a halo of dusty glory. 

"Your private ghost is making himself comfortable over yonder at theHaunted House. I saw the reek of his four-hours fire coming up blue outof the chimbly-top as we drove past!"

It was thus that the most notable news of a decade came to Eden Valley. The Haunted House--we did not need to be told--was Marnhoul, a big, gaunt mansion, long deserted, sunk in woods, yet near enough to theCairn Edward road to be visible in stray round towers and rows ofchimneys, long unblacked by fire of kitchen or parlour. It had a greatforest behind it, on the verges of which a camp of woodcutters and arude saw-mill had long been established, eating deeper and deeper in, without, however, seeming to make any more difference than a solitarymouse might to a granary. 

We boys knew all about the Haunted House. Since our earliest years ithad been the very touchstone of courage to go to the gate on a moonlightnight, hold the bars and cry three times, "I'm no feared!" Some had donethis, I myself among the number. But--though, of course, being aschool-master's son, I did not believe in ghosts--I admit that thereturn journey was the more pleasant of the two, especially after I gotwithin cry of the dwellings of comfortable burgesses, and felt thewindows all alight on either side of me, so near that I could almosttouch them with my hand. 

Not that I _saw_ anything! I knew from the first it was all nonsense. Myfather had told me so a score of times. But having been reared in thesuperstitious Galloway of the ancient days--well, there are certainchills and creeps for which a man is not responsible, inexplicabletwitchings of the hairy scalp of his head, maybe even to the breaking ofa cold sweat over his body, which do not depend upon belief. I keptsaying to myself, "There is nothing! I do not believe a word of it! 'Tisnaught but old wives' fables!" But, all the same, I took with a greatdeal of thankfulness the dressing-down I had got from my father forbeing late for home lessons on a trigonometry night. You see, I was bornand reared in Galloway, and I suppose it was just what they have come tocall in these latter days "the influence of environment. "

Well, at that moment, who should come up but Jo Kettle, a good fellowand friend of mine, but of no account in the school, being a richfarmer's son, who was excused from taking Latin because he was going tosucceed his father in the farm. Jo had a right to the half of mysecrets, because we both liked Gerty Greensleeves pretty well; and I wascertain that she cared nothing about Jo, while Jo could swear that shecounted me not worth a button. 

So I told Jo Kettle about the Haunted House, and he was for starting offthere and then. But it was perfectly evident that I could not with thesefifth class boys to look after, and afternoon school just beginning. Andif I could not, I was very sure that he had better not. More than onceor twice I had proved that it was his duty to do as I said. Jounderstood this, but grew so excited that he bolted into school in amoment with the noise of a runaway colt. His entrance disarranged theattention of the senior Latiners of the sixth. My father frowned, andsaid, "What do you mean, boy, by tumbling through the classroom doorlike a cart of bricks? Come quietly; and sit down, Agnes Anne!"

This was my poor unfortunate sister, aged fourteen, whom a pitilessparent compelled to do classics with the senior division. 

Jo Kettle sat down and pawed about for his mensuration book, which hestudied for some time upside down. Then he extracted his box ofinstruments from his bag and set himself to do over again a propositionwith which he had been familiar for weeks. This, however, was accordingto immemorial school-boy habit, and sometimes succeeded with my father, who was dreamy wherever the classics were not concerned, and regarded amere land-measuring agricultural scholar as outside the bounds of humaninterest, if not of Christian charity. 

In two minutes my father was again immersed in Horace, which (withTacitus) was his chief joy. Then Jo leaned nearer to Agnes Anne andwhispered the dread news about the Haunted House. My sister paled, gasped, and clutched at the desk. Jo, fearful that she would begin, according to the sympathetic school phrase, "to cluck like a hen, "threatened first to run the point of his compasses into her if she didnot sit up instantly; and then, this treatment proving quite inadequateto the occasion, he made believe to pour ink upon her clean cottonprint, fresh put on that morning. This brought Agnes Anne round, and, with a face still pale, she asked for details. Jo supplied them in avoice which the nearness of my father reduced to a whisper. He sat withhis fingers and thumbs making an isosceles triangle and his eyes gentlyclosed, while he listened to the construing of Fred Esquillant, thepale-faced genius of the school. At such times my father almost purredwith delight, and Agnes Anne said that it was "just sweet to watch him. "But even this pleasure palled before the tidings from the Haunted Houseas edited and expanded by Jo Kettle. 

"Yes, Duncan had told him, and Sandy Webb had told _him_. There weredaylight ghosts abroad about Marnhoul. Everybody on the coach had seenthem----"

"What were they like?" queried Agnes Anne in an awestruck whisper; sowell poised, however, that it only reached Jo's ear, and never caused myenraptured father to wink an eyelid. I really believe that, like a goodCalvinist with a sound minister tried and proven, my father allowedhimself a little nap by way of refreshment while Fred Esquillant wasconstruing. 

Nothing loath, Jo launched headlong into the grisly. Through the mattedundergrowth of years, over the high-spiked barriers of the deer-park, the Highflyer had seen not only the familiar Grey Lady in robes ofrustling silk (through which you could discern the gravel and weeds onthe path), but little green demons with chalk-white heads and long ears. These leaped five-barred gates and pursued the coach and its shriekinginmates as far as the little Mains brook that passes the kirk door atthe entrance of the village. Then there was a huge, undistinct, crawlinghorror, half sea-serpent, half slow-worm, that had looked at them overthe hedge, and, flinging out a sudden loop, had lassoed Peter Chafts, the running footman, whose duty it was to leap down and clear stones outof the horses' hoofs. Whether Little Peter had been recovered or not, JoKettle very naturally could not tell. How, indeed, could he? But, withan apparition like that, it was not at all probable. 

Jo was preparing a further instalment, including clanking chains, gongsthat sounded unseen in the air, hands that gripped the passengers andtried to pull them from their seats--all the wild tales of SouterGowans, the village cobbler, and of ne'er-do-well farm lads, idle andreckless, whose word would never have been taken in any ordinary affairof life. Jo had not time, however, for Agnes Anne had a strongimagination, coupled with a highly nervous organization. She laughed outsuddenly, in the middle of a solemn Horatian hush, a wild, hystericallaugh, which brought my father to his feet, broad awake in a second. Theclass gazed open-mouthed, the pale face of Fred Esquillant alonetwitching responsively. 

"What have you been saying to Agnes Anne MacAlpine?" demanded my father, who would sooner have resigned than been obliged to own son or daughteras such in school-time. 

"Nothing!" said Jo Kettle, speaking according to the honour thatobliges schoolboys to untruth as a mode of professional honour. ThenJo, seeing the frown on the master's face, and forestalling the wordsthat were ready to come from his lips, "But, sirrah, I saw you!" amendedhastily, "At least, I was only asking Agnes Anne to sit a little fartheralong!"

"What!" cried my father, with the snap of the eye that meant punishment, "to sit farther along, when you had no interest in this classicallesson, sir--a lesson you are incapable of understanding, and--all thelength of an empty bench at your left hand! You shall speak with me atthe close of the lesson, and that, sirrah, is now! The class isdismissed! I shall have the pleasure of a little interview with MasterJoseph Kettle, student of mensuration. "

Jo had his interview, in which figured a certain leathern strap, called"Lochgelly" after its place of manufacture--a branch of native industrymuch cursed by Scottish school-children. "Lochgelly" was five-fingered, well pickled in brine, well rubbed with oil, well used on the boys, but, except by way of threat, unknown to the girls. Jo emerged tingling buttriumphant. Indeed, several new ideas had occurred to him. Eden ValleyAcademy stood around and drank in the wondrous tale with all its earsand, almost literally, with one mouth. Jo Kettle told the story so wellthat I well-nigh believed it myself. He even turned to me forcorroboration. 

"Didn't he tell you that, Duncan? That was the way of it, eh, Duncan?"

I denied, indeed, and would have stated the truth as it was in GuardWebb. But my futile and feeble negations fell unheeded, swept away bythe pour of Jo's circumstantial lying. 

Finally he ran off into the village and was lost to sight. I havelittle doubt that he played truant, in full recognition of pains andpenalties to come, for the mere pleasure of going from door to door and"raising the town, " as he called it. I consoled myself by the thoughtthat he would find few but womenfolk at home at that hour, while theshopkeepers would have too much consideration for their tills andcustomers to follow a notorious romancer like Jo on such a fool'serrand. 

I cannot tell how that afternoon's lessons were got over in Eden ValleyAcademy. The hum of disturbance reached even the juniors, skulkingpeacefully under little Mr. Stephen, the assistant. Only MissHuntingdon, in the Infant Department, remained quiet and neat as a dovenew-preened among her murmuring throng of unconscious little folk. 

But in the senior school, though I never reported a boy to my father(preferring to postpone his case for private dealing in the playground), the lid of the desk was opened and snapped sharply every five minutes togive exit and entrance to "Lochgelly. " Seldom have I seen my father soroused. He hated not to understand everything that was going on in theschool. He longed to ask me what I knew about it, but, according to hishabit, generously forbore, lest he should lead me to tell tales upon myfellows. For, though actually junior assistant to my father, I was stilla scholar, which made my position difficult indeed. To me it seemed asif the clock on the wall above the fireplace would never strike the hourof four. 

CHAPTER II

"IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!"

At last--at last! The door between the seniors and Mr. Stephen's juniorswas thrown open. My father, making his usual formal bow to hisassistant, said, "When you are ready, Mr. Stephen!" And Mr. Stephen wasalways ready. Then with his back to the hinges of the door, and hisstrong black beard with the greying strands in it set forward at anangle, Mr. John MacAlpine, head-master of Eden Valley Academy, said afew severe words on the afternoon's lack of discipline, and prophesiedin highly coloured language the exemplary manner in which any repetitionof it would be treated on the morrow. Then he doubled all home lessons, besides setting a special imposition to each class. Having made thisclear, he hoped that the slight token of his displeasure might assure usof his intention to do his duty by us faithfully, and then, with theverse of a chanted psalm we were let go. 

Class by class defiled with rumble of boots and tramp of wooden-soledclogs, the boys first, the girls waiting till the outside turmoil hadabated--but, nevertheless, as anxious as any to be gone. I believe weexpected to tumble over slow serpents and nimble spectres comingvisiting up the school-loaning, or coiling in festoons among the tallScotch firs at the back of the playground. 

We of the sixth class were in the rear--I last of all, for I had tolock away the copybooks, turn the maps to the wall, and give my fatherthe key. _But_ I had warned the other seniors that they were not tostart without me. 

And then, what a race! A bare mile it was, through the thick fringes ofwoods most of the way--as soon, that is, as we were out of the village. Along the wall of the Deer Park we ran, where we kept instinctively tothe far side of the road. We of the highest class were far in front--Imean those of us who kept the pace. The Fifth had had a minute or twostart of us, so they were ahead at first, but we barged through theirpack without mercy, scattering them in all directions. 

There at last was the gate before us. We had reached it first. Five ofus there were, Sam Gordon, Ivie Craig, Harry Stoddart, Andrew Clark andmyself--yes, there was another--that forward Gerty Greensleeves, who hadkilted her rough grey-green dress and run with the best, all to proveher boast that, but for the clothes she had to wear, she was as good arunner as the best boy there. Indeed, if the truth must be told, shecould outrun all but me. 

The tall spikes, the massive brass padlock, green with weathering, inwhich it was doubtful if any key would turn, the ancient "Notice toTrespassers, " massacred by the stones of home-returningschoolboys--these were all that any of us could see at first. Thebarrier of the deer-park wall was high and unclimbable. The massy ironof the gates looked as if it had not been stirred for centuries. 

But a tense interest held us all spellbound. We could see nothing butsome stray glimpses of an ivy-clad wall. A weathercock, that had oncebeen gilded, stood out black against the evening sky. The Grey Lady inthe rustling silk, through whom you could see the rain drops splash onthe gravel stones, was by no means on view. No green demons leaped thesesullen ten-foot barricades, and no forwandered sea-serpent threw oozywimples on the green-sward or hissed at us between the rusty bars. 

It was, at first, decidedly disappointing. We ordered each other to stopbreathing so loudly, after our burst of running. We listened, but therewas not even the sough of wind through the trees--nothing but thebeating of our own hearts. 

What had we come out to see? Apparently nothing. The school considereditself decidedly "sold, " and as usual prepared to take vengeance, firstupon Jo Kettle and then, as that youth still persisted in a discreetabsence of body, on myself. 

"You spoke to Sandy Webb, the guard, " said Gertrude-of-the-Sleeves, scowling upon me; "what did he say?"

Before I could answer Boyd Connoway, the village do-nothing, enterprising idler and general boys' abettor, beckoned us across theroad. He was on the top of a little knoll, thick with the yellow ofbroom and the richer orange of gorse. Here he had stretched himself verygreatly at his ease. For Boyd Connoway knew how to wait, and he waswaiting now. Hurry was nowhere in Boyd's dictionary. Not that he hadever looked. 

In a moment we were over the dyke, careless of the stones that we senttrickling down to afflict the toes of those who should come after us. Westood on the top of the mound. Connoway disturbed himself just enough tosit up for our sakes, which he would not have done for a dozen grownmen. He removed the straw from his mouth, and pointed with it to theend chimney nearest to the great wood of Marnhoul. 

We gazed earnestly, following the straw and gradually we could see, rising into the still air an unmistakable "pew" of palest bluesmoke--which, as we looked, changed into a dense white pillar that rosesteadily upwards, detaching itself admirably against the deep greenblack of the Scotch firs behind. 

"There, " said Connoway gravely, "yonder is your ghost mending his fire!"

We stood at gaze, uncomprehending, too astonished for speech. We hadcome, even the unbelievers of us, prepared for the supernatural, forsomething surpassingly eery, and anything so commonplace as the smoke ofa fire was a surprise greater than the sight of all Jo Kettle'simaginations coming at us abreast. 

Yet the people who owned the great house of Marnhoul were far away--fewhad ever seen any of them. Their affairs were in the hands of a notablefirm of solicitors in Dumfries. How any mortal could have entered thatgreat abode, or inhabited it after the manner of men, was beyond allthings inexplicable. But there before us the blue reek continued tomount, straight as a pillar, till it reached the level of the trees onthe bank behind, when a gentle current of air turned it sharply at rightangles to the south. 

Now we heard the tramp of many feet, and beneath us we saw Jo Kettlewith half-a-dozen of his father's workers, and the village constable tomake sure that all was done in due and proper order. To these was joineda crowd of curious townsmen, eager for any new thing. All were armed tothe teeth with rusty cutlasses and old horse pistols, which, whenloaded, made the expedition one of no inconsiderable peril. 

The man with the crowbar applied it to the rusty chain of the padlock. Two others assisted him, but instead of breaking the chain, the ironstandard of the gate crumbled into so much flaky iron rust, whilepadlock and attachments swung free upon the other. It was easy enough toenter after that. 

"In the name of the law!" cried the constable, taking a little staffwith a silver crown upon it in his hand. And at the word the gatecreaked open and the crowd pressed in. 

But the constable held up his hand. 

"'In the name of the law, ' I said. I _might_ have put it, 'In the King'sname, ' but what I meant was that we are to proceed in decency andorder--no unseemly rabbling, scuffling, or mischief making--otherwise yehave me to reckon with. Let no word of ghosts and siclike be heard. Thecase is infinitely more serious----"

"Hear to Jocky wi' his langnebbit words!" whispered Boyd Connoway in myear. 

"Infinitely more so, I say. It is evident to the meanest capacity--"

"Evidently!" whispered Connoway, grinning. 

"--that a dangerous band of smugglers or burglars is in possession ofthe mansion of Marnhoul, and we must take them to a man!"

These words brought about a marked hesitation in the rear ranks, awavering, and a tendency to slip away through the breach of the brokengate into the road. 

"Halt there, " cried Constable Black, holding the staff of office high. "I call upon you, every man, to assist his Majesty's officers. You arespecial constables, as soon as I get time to swear you in. Praise be, here's good Maister Kettle! He's a Justice of the Peace. He will holdyou to it now and be my witness if ye refuse lawful aid. Now, forward!Quick march!"

And this formidable armed band took its way along the overgrown gravelavenue up to the front of the great house of Marnhoul. We boys (andGreensleeves close to my elbow) played along the flanks likeskirmishers. All our spiritual fears were abated. At the name of thelaw, and specially after the display of the silver-crowned staff, weentered joyously into the game. If it had only been the arm of flesh wehad to encounter, we were noways afraid--though it was a sad downcomefrom the solemn awe of coming to grips with the prince of darkness andhis emissaries. 

"You that have pistols that will go off, round with you to guard theback doors!" cried Constable John Black. "It's there the thieves havetaken up their abode. The smoke is coming from the kitchen lum. I see itwell. The rest, not so well armed, bide here with me under theprotection of the law!"

And with that Constable Black, commonly called Jocky, elevated once morehis staff in the air, and marched boldly to the fatal door. He went upthe steps by which the Grey Lady was wont to descend to the clearmoonlight to take her airing in the wood. A little behind went Connoway, in the same manner holding a "bourtree" pop-gun which he had just beenfashioning for some lucky callant of his acquaintance. 

Almost for the first time in his life Boyd Connoway had all the humourto himself. Nobody laughed at his imitation of Officer Jocky's pompousways. They would do it afterwards in the safety of their own dwellingsand about the winter fire. But not now--by no means now. 

Even though supported by the majestic power of the law, the crowd keptrespectfully edging behind wall and trees. Their eyes were directedwarily upwards to the long array of windows from which (legendrecounted) the Maitlands of Marnhoul had once during the troubles of theCovenant successfully defended themselves against the forces of theCrown. 

Now be it understood once for all, the inhabitants of Eden Valley werepeaceful and loyal citizens, except perhaps in what concerned the exciselaws and the ancient and wholesome practice of running cargoes ofdutiable goods without troubling his Majesty's excise officers about thematter. But they did not wish to support the law at the peril of theirlives. 

An irregular crackle of shots, the smashing of window glass in the backof the mansion, with two or three hurrahs, put some courage into them. On the whole it seemed less dangerous to get close in under the greatvaulted porch. There, at least, they could not be reached by shot fromthe windows, while out in the open or under the uncertain shelter oftree boles, who knew what might happen? So there was soon a compactphalanx about the man in authority. 

Constable Black, being filled with authority direct from theLord-Lieutenant of the County, certainly had the instinct of magnifyinghis office. He raised his arm and knocked three times on the bleachedand blistered panels of the great front door. 

"Open, I command you! In the name of the law!" he shouted. 

After the knocking there befell a pause, as it might be of twentybreaths--though nobody seemed to draw any. Such a silence of listeninghave I never heard. Yes, we heard it, and the new burst of firing fromthe rear of the house, the cheers of the excited assailants hardlyseemed to break it, so deeply was our attention fixed on that greatweather-beaten door of the Haunted House of Marnhoul. 

Again Jocky, his face lint-white, and his voice coming and goingjerkily, cried aloud the great name of the law. Again there was silence, deeper and longer than before. 

At last from far within came a pattering as of little feet, quick andlight. We heard the bolts withdrawn one by one, and as the wards of thelock rasped and whined, men got ready their weapons. The door swung backand against the intense darkness of the wide hall, with the light ofevening on their faces, stood a girl in a black dress and crimson sash, holding by the hand a little boy of five, with blue eyes and tightyellow curls. 

Both were smiling, and before them all that tumultuary array fell awayas from something supernatural. The words "In the name of----" werechoked on the lips of the constable. He even dropped his silver-headedstaff, and turned about as if to flee. As for us we watched with dazzledeyes the marvels that had so suddenly altered the ideas of all men as tothe Haunted House of Marnhoul. 

But for a space no one moved, no one spoke. Only the tall young girl andthe little child stood there, like children of high degree receivinghomage on the threshold of their own ancestral mansion, facing thelifted bonnets and the pikes lowered as if in salutation. 

CHAPTER III

MISS IRMA GIVES AN AUDIENCE

"My name is Irma Maitland, and this is my brother Louis!" Such were thefamous words with which, in response to law and order in the person ofConstable Jacky Black, the tall smiling girl in the doorway of theHaunted House of Marnhoul saluted her "rescuers. "

"And how came you to be occupying this house?" demanded Mr. JosiahKettle, father of Joseph the inventive. He was quite unaware of theghastly terrors with which his son had peopled the Great House, but asthe largest farmer on the estate he felt it to be his duty to protectvested rights. 

"In the same way that you enter your house, " said the girl; "we came inwith a key, and have been living here ever since!"

"Are you not feared?" piped a voice from the crowd. It was afterwardsfound that it was Kettle junior who had spoken. 

"Afraid!" answered the girl scornfully, holding her head higher thanever; "do you think that a few foolish people firing at our windowscould make us afraid? Can they, Louis?" And as she spoke she lookedfondly down at her little brother. 

He drew nearer to his sister, looking up at her with a winningconfidence, and said in as manly a voice as he could compass, "Certainlynot, Irma! But--tell them not to do it any more!"

"You hear what my brother says, " said the girl haughtily. "Let there beno more of this!"

"But--in right of law and order, I must know more about this!" criedConstable Jacky, lifting up his staff again. Somehow, however, the magichad gone from his words. Every one now knew that his thunder had ahollow sound. 

"Ah, you are the _gendarme_--the official--the officer!" said the tallgirl, with a more pronounced foreign accent than before, making him alittle bow; "please go and tell your superiors that we are here becausethe place belongs to us--at least to my brother, and that I am stayingto take care of him. "

"But how did you come?" persisted the man in authority. 

The tall girl looked over his head. Her glance, clear, cool, penetrating, scanned face after face, and then she said, as it were, regretfully, "There are no gentlefolk among you?"

There was the slightest shade of inquiry about words which might haveseemed rude as a mere affirmation. Then she appeared to answer forherself, still with the same tinge of sadness faintly colouring herpride. "For this reason I cannot tell you how we came to be here. "

Mr. Josiah Kettle felt called upon to assert himself. 

"I have reason to believe, " he said pompously, "that I am as good as anyon the estate in the way of being a gentleman--me and my son Joseph. Iam a Justice of the Peace, under warrant of the Crown, and so one daywill my son Joseph--Jo, you rascal, come off that paling!"

But just then Jo Kettle had other fish to fry. From the bad eminence ofthe garden palisade he was devouring the new-comer with his eyes. As forme, I had shaken the hand of the lately adored Greensleeves from my arm. 

The girl's glance stayed for an instant and no more upon the round androsy countenance of Mr. Josiah Kettle, Justice of the Peace. She smiledupon him indulgently, but shook her head. 

"I am sorry, " she said, with gentle condescension, "that I cannot tellanything more to you. You are one of the people who broke our windows!"

Then Josiah Kettle unfortunately blustered. 

"If you will not, young madam, " he cried, "I can soon send them to youwho will make you answer. "

The young lady calmly took out of her pocket a dainty pair of ivorywriting tablets, such as only the minister of the parish used in allEden Valley, and he only because he had married a great London lady forhis wife. 

"I shall be glad of the name and address of the persons to whom yourefer!" said Miss Irma (for so from that moment I began to call her inmy heart). 

"The factors and agents for this estate, " Josiah Kettle enunciatedgrandly. The writing tablets were shut up with a snap of disappointment. 

"Oh, Messrs. Smart, Poole & Smart, " she said. "Why, I have known themever since I was as high as little Louis. "

Then she smiled indulgently upon Mr. Kettle, with something so easilygrand and yet so sweet that I think the hearts of all went out to her. 

"I suppose, " she said, "that really you thought you were doing right incoming here and firing off guns without permission. It must be anastonishing thing for you to see this house of the Maitlands inhabitedafter so long. I do not blame your curiosity, but I fear I must ask youto send a competent man to repair our windows. For that we hold youresponsible, Mr. Officer, and you, Mr. Justice of the Peace--you andyour son Jo! Don't we, Louis?"

"I will see to that myself!" a voice, the same that had spoken before, came from the crowd. Miss Irma searched the circle without, however, coming to a conclusion. I do think that her glance lingered longer on myface than on any of the others, perhaps because Gerty Greensleeves wasleaning on my shoulder and whispering in my ear. (What a nuisance girlsare, sometimes!) So the glance passed on, with something in it at oncecalm and simple and high. 

"If any of the gentlefolk of our station will call upon us, " she wenton, "we will tell _them_ how we came to be here--the clergyman of theparish--or----" here she hesitated for the first time, "or his wife. "

Instinctively she seemed to feel the difficulty. "Though we are not oftheir faith!" she added, smiling once more as with the air of serenecondescension she had shown all through. 

Then she nodded, and swept a curtsey with an undulating grace which Ithought to be adorable, in spite of the suspicion of irony in it. 

"Good-bye, good people, " she said, letting her eyes again run thecircuit of the sea of faces, reinforced by those who had been firingtheir blunderbusses and horse-pistols (now carefully concealed) souselessly at the back windows of the house. "We are obliged for yourvisit. Salute them, Louis!"

Obediently the child carried his hand to the curls on his brow in thesame fashion I had seen soldiers do at the militia training on theDumfries sands, but with the same smilingly tolerant air of receivingand acknowledging the homage of vassals which both of them had shownfrom the beginning. 

Then Miss Irma smiled upon us all once more, nodded to me (I am sure ofit), and without another word, shut the door in our faces. 

CHAPTER IV

FIRST FOOT IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE

To understand what a sensation these strange events made in Eden Valley, it is necessary that you should know something of Eden Valley itself andhow it was governed. 

Governed, you say? Was it not within the King's dominions, and governedlike every other part of these his Majesty's kingdoms? Had we of theWide Valley risen against constituted authority and filled all BalcaryBay between Isle Rathan and the Red Haven with floating tea-chests?

Well, not exactly; but many a score of stealthy cargoes had been carriedpast our doors on horse-back, pony-back, shelty-back--up by Bluehillsand over the hip of Ben Tudor. And often, often from the Isle of Manfleet had twenty score of barrels been dropped overboard just in time toprevent the minions of the law, as represented by H. M. Ship _Seamew_, sloop-of-war, from seizing them. So you will observe that the revolt ofEden Valley against authority, though not quite so complete as that ofthe late New England colonies, yet proceeded from the same motives. 

Only, as it typo happened, the tea-chests which were spilt in BostonHarbour were finished so far as the brewing of tea was concerned, whilethe kegs and firkins dropped overboard were easily recoverable by suchas were in the secret. In a day or two, the tide being favourable andthe nights dark enough, these same kegs would be found reposing in bulkin the recesses of Brandy Knowe, next by Collin Mill--save for a few, left in well defined places--one being left at the Manse for the Doctorhimself. That was within the very wall of the kirkyard, and under theshadow of the clump of yews which had dripped upon the tombstones thatcovered at least three of his predecessors. A second reposed under theprize cabbages belonging to General Johnstone (who, as a young officerof Marines, had simulated the courage of Admiral Byng before Minorca, and like that gallant seaman, narrowly escaped being shot for hispains). General Johnstone's gardener knew well where this keg washidden. But it contained liquid well-nigh sacred in the eyes of hismaster, and he had far too much common-sense ever to presume to find it. A third came to anchor under a peat-stack belonging to Mr. ShepstoneOglethorpe, the only Episcopalian within the parish bounds, and thedescendent of an English military family which had once held possessionof the Maitland estates during the military dragonnades of Charles IIand James II, but had been obliged to restore the mansion and most ofthe property after the Prince of Orange made good his landing with his"Protestant wind" at Torbay. Enough, however, remained to make Mr. Shepstone Oglethorpe the next man in the parish after the minister andthe General. He was, besides, a pleasant, gossipy, young-old, flutterybachelor--a great acquisition at four-hours tea-drinkings, and much moreof a praise to them that do well than any sort of a terror toevil-doers. 

These three constituted the general staff of our commonwealth, and inspite of occasional forgetfulnesses as to the declaration of theaforesaid kegs, parcels of French silks and Malines lace, to H. M. 'sSupervisor of Customs, King George had no more loyal subjects thanthese highest authorities in Eden Valley, ecclesiastical, military andcivil. Then, after due interval, came the farmers of Eden Valley, honest, far-seeing, cautious men, slow of action, slower still ofspeech--not at all to be judged by the standard of the richest of them, Mr. Josiah Kettle. He was, in fact, a mere incomer, who had beenpromoted a Justice of the Peace because, on the occasion of the lastscare as to a French invasion, he had made and carried out large andremunerative contracts for the supply of the militia and other troopshastily got together to protect the Solway harbours from Dryffe Sands tothe Back Shore. 

The siege of the Haunted House of Marnhoul happened on a Friday, thelast school-keeping day of the week. Saturday was employed by the parishin digesting the news and forming opinions for the consumpt of themorrow. Meantime there was a pretty steady stream of the curious alongthe Marnhoul road, but the padlock had been replaced, and only thebroken bar bore token of the storm which had passed that way. 

On Sunday, however, a small oblong scrap of white attracted theattention of the nearer curious. It was attached, at about the level ofthe eyes, to the unbroken bar of the gate of Marnhoul, and on beingapproached with due care, was found to bear the following mysteriousinscription--

 "Sir Louis Maitland of Marnhoul, Bart. , and Miss Irma Sobieski Maitland receive every afternoon from 2 to 5. "

 Marnhoul, Galloway, June 21. 

"Keep us a'!" was the universal exclamation of Eden Valley as it readthis solemnizing inscription. It was generally believed to be achallenge to the lawyers and the powers in general to come at thesehours and turn the young people out. 

And many were the opinions as to the legality of such a course. Law wasnot generally understood in the Galloway of that date, and though theSheriff Substitute rode through the village once a month to spend anight over the "cartes" with his friend the General, he too only laughedand rode on. He was well known to me at the head of his profession, andto have the ear of the Government. Such studied indifference, therefore, could only be put down to a desire to wink at the proceedings of thechildren, illegal and unprecedented as these might be. 

But I must now say something about my own folk. 

Though undoubtedly originally Highland, and, as my father averred, ableto claim kindred with the highest of his name, the MacAlpines had longbeen domiciled in the south. My father was the son of a neighbouringminister, and had only escaped the fate of succeeding his father in thecharge by a Highland aversion to taking the sacrament at the age when hewas called upon to do so--in order that, by the due order of the Churchof Scotland, he might be taken on his trials as a student in Divinity. He had also, about that date, further complicated matters by marrying mymother, Grace Lyon, the penniless daughter of a noted Cameronian elderof the parish of Eden Valley. 

In order to support her, and (after a little) _us_, John MacAlpine hadaccepted a small school far up the glen, from which, after a year ortwo, on the appointment of Dr. Forbes to the parish, he had followed hisold college friend to Eden Valley itself. Under his care the littleacademy had gradually been organized on the newest and best scholasticlines known to the time. Even for girls classics and mathematics playeda prominent part. Samplers and knitting, which had previously formed anotable branch of the curriculum, were banished to an hour when littleMiss Huntingdon taught the girls, locked in her own department likeWykliffites in danger of the fires of Tower Hill. And at such times myfather almost ran as he passed the door of the infant school and thoughtof the follies which were being committed within. 

"Samplers, " he was wont to mutter, "samplers--when they might be attheir Ovid!"

My mother--Gracie Lyon that was--had none of the stern blood of herCameronian forebears, nor yet my father's tempestuous Norland mood. Shewas gentle, patient, with little to say for herself--like Leah, tender-eyed (in the English, not in the Hebrew sense)--and I rememberwell that as a child one of my great pleasures was to stroke her cheekas she was putting me to sleep, saying, "Mother, how soft your skin is. It is like velvet!"

"Aye, " she would answer, with a sigh gentle as herself, "so they used totell me!"

And I somehow knew that "they" excluded my father, but whom it includedI did not know then nor for many a day after. 

But my grandmother, my mother's mother--ah, there indeed you were in adifferent world! She dwelt in a large house on the edge of the Marnhoulwoods. My grandfather had the lease of the farm of Heathknowes, withlittle arable land, but a great hill behind it on which fed black-facedsheep, sundry cattle in the "low parks, " and by the river a strip ofcorn land sufficient for the meal-ark and the stable feeding of his fourstout horses. Also on my father's behalf my uncles conducted the lonelysaw-mill that ate and ate into the Great Wood and yet never got anyfarther. There might be seen machinery for making spools--withwater-driven lathes, which turned these articles, variously known as"bobbins" and "pirns, " literally off the reel by the thousand. It was asweet, birch-smelling place and my favourite haunt on all holidays. William Lyon, my grandfather, had had a tempestuous youth, from which, as he said, he had been saved "by the grace of God and Mary Lyon. "

"Many a sore day she had with me, " he would confess to me, for he tookpleasure in my society, "but got me buckled down at last!"

As my grandmother also kept me in the most affectionate but completesubjection, the fact that neither one nor the other of us dared disobey"Mary Lyon" was a sort of bond between us. Yet my grandmother was not avery tall nor yet to the outward eye a powerful woman. You had to lookher in the eye to know. But there you saw a flash that would have coweda grenadier. There was something masterful and even martial in her walk, in the way she attacked the enemy of the moment, or the work that fellto her hand. All her ways were dominating without ever beingdomineering. But in the house of Heathknowes all knew that she had justto be obeyed, and there was an end to it. 

When my father and she clashed, it was like the meeting of Miltonicthunderclouds over the Caspian. But on the whole it was safe to wagerthat even then grandmother got her way. John MacAlpine first dischargedhis Celtic electricity, and then disengaged his responsibility with theshrug of the right shoulder which was habitual to him. After all, wasthere not always Horace in his pocket--which he would finger to calmhimself even in the heat of a family dispute?

A great school-master was my father, far ben in the secrets of theancient world--and such a man is always very much of a humanist. Mygrandmother, alert, clear, decided on all doctrinal points, argumentative, with all her wits fine-edged by the Shorter Catechism, could not abide the least haziness of outline in religious belief. 

She did not agree with my grandfather's easier ways, but then he did notargue with her, being far too wise a man. 

"Eh, William, " she would say, "ye will carry even to the grave some ragof the Scarlet Woman. And at the end I will not be surprised to find yesitting on some knowetap amang the Seven Hills!"

But at least my grandfather was a Cameronian elder, in the little kirkdown by the ford, to which the Lyons had resorted ever since the days ofthe societies--long before even worthy Mr. MacMillan of Balmaghie cameinto the Church, ordaining elders, and, along with the pious Mr. Loganof Buittle, even ordaining ministers for carrying on the work of thefaithful protesting remnant. 

But my father, John MacAlpine, both by office and by temperament, belonged to the Kirk of Scotland as by law established. So indeed didnine-tenths of the folk in the parish of Eden Valley. The band ofCameronians at the Ford, and the forlorn hope of Episcopalians in theirhewn-stone chapel with the strange decorations, built on the parcel ofground pertaining to Mr. Shepstone Oglethorpe, were the onlynon-Establishers in the parish. Yet both, nevertheless, claimed to bethe only true Church of Scotland, claimed it fiercely, with a fervoursharpened by the antiquity of their claims and the smallness of theirnumbers. This was especially true of the Cameronians, who were everready to give a reason for the faith that was in them. TheEpiscopalians lacked the Westminster Catechisms as a means ofintellectual gymnastic. So far, therefore, they were handicapped, andindeed reduced to the mere persistent assertion that they, and theyalone, were the apostolic Church, and if any out of their communion weresaved, it must only be by the uncovenanted mercies of God. 

Yet, though not within the sacred triangle of gentility (as it was knownin Eden Valley), of which the manse, the General's bungalow, and theresidence of Mr. Shepstone Oglethorpe occupied the three angles, mygrandmother was the first caller upon the lonely children in the greathouse of Marnhoul. 

I shall never forget her indignation when I went in to the dairy andtold her in detail what had happened--of the forcing of the gates, andthe firing upon the back windows. My grandfather, seated within doors, in his great triangular easy-chair at his own corner of the widefireplace, looked up and remarked in his serene and far-off fashion that"such proceedings filled him with shame and sorrow. "

The words and still more the tone roused my grandmother. 

"William Lyon, " she said, standing before him in the clean middle of thehearth which she had just been sweeping, and threatening him with thebrush (she would not have touched him for anything in the world, for sherecognized his position as an elder). "Hear to ye--'shame and sorrow'!Aye, well may ye say it. Had I been there I would have 'sinned andsorrowed' them. To go breaking into houses with swords and staves, andfiring off powder and shot--all to frighten a pair of poor bairns!Certes, but I would have sorted them to rights--with tongue, aye, andwith arm also. "

And at this point Mary Lyon advanced a step so fiercely and with suchmartial energy, that, well inured as my grandfather was to the generousoutbursts of his wife, he moved his chair back with a certain alacrity. 

"Mary, " he remonstrated, "Mr. Shepstone Oglethorpe was with them. So atleast I understand, and also Mr. Kettle, who is a Justice of thePeace--these in addition to the constable----"

He got no further. My grandmother swooped upon the names, as perhaps heexpected. It was by no means the first time that, in order to draw offthe hounds of his wife's wrath, he had skilfully drawn a red herringacross the trail. 

"Shepstone--Shepstone!" she cried, "a useless, daidling body! What washe ever good for in this world but to tie his neckcloth and twirl hiscane? Oh aye, he can maybe button his 'spats'! That is, if he doesna getthe servant lass to do it for him. And Josiah Kettle! William, I wonderyou are not shamed, goodman--to sit there in your own hearth-corner andname such a hypocrite to me----"

"Stop there, Mary, " said her husband; "only a man's Maker has the rightto call him a hypocrite----"

"Well, I am an Elder's wife, and I'll e'en be his Viceroy. Josiah Kettle_is_ a hypocrite, and I hae telled him so to his face--not once, but ascore of times. He has robbed the widow. He has impoverished the orphan. Fegs, if I were a man, I could not keep my hands off him, and, 'deed, Ihave hard enough work as it is. If there was a man about the house worthhis salt----"

"Forgive your enemies----" suggested my grandfather, "do good----"

"So I would--so I would, " cried my grandmother, "but first I would givethe best cheese out o' the dairy-loft to see Josiah ducked head overheels in Blackmire Dub! Forgive--aye, certainly, since it is commanded. But a bit dressing down would do the like o' him no harm, and then theLord could take His own turn at him after!"

Thus did my grandmother address all who came into contact with her, andthere is every reason to believe that she had more than once similarlyexhorted Mr. Josiah Kettle, rich farmer and money-lender though he was. Yet it is equally certain that if Mr. Kettle had been stricken with adangerous and deadly malady which made his nearest kin flee from him, itwould have been my grandmother who would have flown to nurse him withthe same robust and forcible tenderness with which she oversaw theteething and other ills incidental to her daughter's children. 

"As for Jocky Black, " continued my grandmother, "the pomp of theatomy--'In the name of the law, ' says he--I'd law him! I would e'en niphis bit stick from his puir twisted fingers and gie him his paiks--thatis, if it were worth the trouble! As for me, get me my bonnet, Jen--mybest Sunday leghorn with the puce _chenille_ in it--I must look myfeatest going to a great house to pay my respects. And you shall cometoo, Duncan!" (She turned to me with her usual alertness. ) "Run home andtidy--quick! Bid your mother put on your Sunday suit. No, Jen, I will_not_ take you to fright the poor things out of their wits. Afterwards, we shall see. But at first, Duncan there, if he gets over his blateness, will be more of their age, and fear them less. "

"If all I hear be true, " said my Aunt Jen, pursing up her mouth as ifshe had bitten into a crab apple, "the lassie is little likely to befeared of you or any mortal on the earth!"

"Maybe aye--maybe no, " snapped my grandmother, "at any rate be off withyou into the back kitchen and see that the dishes are washed, so as notto be a show to the public. You and Meg have so little sense that whilesI wonder that I am your mother. "

"You are not Meg's mother that I ken of!" her daughter respondedacridly. 

"I am her mistress, and the greater fool to keep such a handless hempieabout the house! You, Janet, I have to provide for in some wise--suchbeing the will of the Lord--His and your father's there. Now then, clear! Be douce! Let me get on my cloak and leghorn bonnet. "

My grandmother being thus accoutred, and I invested with a black jacket, knee-breeches, shoes, and the regulation fluffy tie that tickled mythroat and made me a week-day laughing stock to all who dared, MistressMary Lyon and I started to make our first call at the Great House ofMarnhoul. 

CHAPTER V

THE CENSOR OF MORALS

As my grandmother and I went down the little loaning from HeathknowesFarm she had an eye for everything. She "shooed" into duty's path ayoungling hen with vague maternal aspirations which was wandering off tofound a family by laying an egg in the underbrush about the saw-mill. She called back final directions to her daughter Jen and maidservantMeg, and saw that they were attended to before she would go on. Shelooked into the saw-mill itself in the by-going, and made sure that RobMcTurk was in due attendance on the whirling machinery which was turningoff the spools, as it seemed to me, with the rapidity of light. Sheinquired as to the whereabouts of her husband. 

"Oh, he was in a minute since!" said the politic Rob, who knew very wellthat my grandfather had climbed into the bark storage loft, and was atthat moment sitting on a bundle, with a book in his hand and content inhis heart at having escaped the last injunctions of his wife. 

"Well, then, " said Mistress Mary Lyon, "tell him from me----" And, asusual, a long list of recommendations followed. 

"I'll see to it that he hears, " said Rob McTurk imperturbably, knowingfull well that his master could by no means help hearing, since mygrandmother, in order to drown the noise of the whirling spindles andclattering cogs, had raised her voice till her every word must havepenetrated to the pleasant, bark-scented place where, under his solitaryskylight, Mr. William Lyon was so calmly reading his favourite _Memoirsof the Life of Thomas Boston of Ettrick_. 

Besides my clothes, there were two things which interfered with thehappiness of my jaunt. One was the presence of a third and mostuncertain party to the affair--our rough, red house-collie Crazy, andthe other was a doubt as to the way in which we would be received. For, be it remembered, I had seen Miss Irma Maitland shut the great door atthe top of the Marnhoul steps on the raging crowd of assailants, and Iwondered if we would not also find it slammed in our faces. 

I had, however, confidence in my grandmother. 

On the way to the padlocked gate at the entrance of the avenue which ledto the Haunted House, my grandmother had abundant room for the exerciseof her gifts. Never was there a woman who came across so many thingsthat "she could not abide. "

Such, for instance, were Widow Tolmie's ideas as to disposal of hernocturnal household rubbish on the King's highway. Into the Tolmie housewent Mistress Mary Lyon, well aware that words would have no avail. In aminute she had requisitioned broom, bucket, and "claut, " or byre-rake. In other three minutes all was over. Widow Tolmie had a clean frontage. The utensils had been washed and hung up, and my grandmother wasdelivering a lecture from one of the most frequently-quoted texts whichare not to be found in Holy Writ, while she drew again upon her strong, energetic old hands the pair of lisle thread "mitts" she had taken offin order to effect her clean sweep. 

After she had duly lectured the Widow Tolmie, she bade her in all amity"Good-day, " and started to reform Crazy, who had been gyrating furiouslyacross her path, trying apparently to bite his tail out by the roots. Crazy was, it appeared, a useless, good-for-nothing beast, a disgrace toa decent Elder's house, and I was ordered to stone him home. 

Now I did not particularly wish Crazy to go with us to the Great House. I thought of the smiling carelessness of the girl's face I had seenthere. Crazy might, and very likely would, misbehave himself. But still, Crazy was my friend, my companion, my joy. _Stone Crazy!_ It was not tobe thought of. He would certainly consider it some new kind of game andrun barking after the missiles. I therefore shot so far beyond that thepebbles fell over the hedge, till my grandmother, whose sole method wasan ungainly cross between a hurl and a jerk, took up the fusillade onher own account, with the result that Crazy was wrought up to thehighest point of excitement, and, as I had foreseen, brought each stoneback to my grandmother, barking joyously and pulling at her skirts forher to throw again. 

"And just wait till I get you home, " gasped Mrs. Mary Lyon, shaking herrough white head, "there shall a rope be put about your neck, my lad!"

But whether for the purpose of mere tying up, or to carry out theextreme sentence of the law, I did not gather. I resolved that, in thelatter case, Crazy should come with me to the school-house. There was aplace I knew of there, a crib at the end of the stick-cellar, which at apinch would do admirably for Crazy. And I felt sure that Crazy, whollyincompetent at his own business of shepherding, would be a perfect"boys' dog" and a permanent acquisition to the Academy of Eden Valley. There was, of course, my father to consider. But I did not stop to thinkof that. The classics and Fred Esquillant were enough for him at themoment. 

As she passed various cottage doors my grandmother had several boutswith joiners who blocked the road with unfinished carts and diffusivepots of red paint, with small wayside cowherds in charge of animalswhich considered the hedge-rows as their appointed pasturage, with boysgoing fishing who had learned at school that a straight line is theshortest distance between two points, and who practised their Euclid tothe detriment of their neighbours' fences. 

But nothing of great moment occurred till, on the same knoll from whichhe had summoned us to view the smoke of the ghost's afternoon fire atMarnhoul, we encountered Boyd Connoway. He was stretched at length, asusual, one leg crossed negligently over the other. He had pivoted hishead against a log for the purpose of seeing in three directions abouthim--towards the Great House, and both up and down the main road. Astraw, believed to be always the same, was in his mouth. 

A red rag to a bull, a match to tinder, are weak metaphors--quiteincapable of expressing a tenth of what my grandmother felt at the sightof the pet idler of Eden Valley. 

She rushed instantly to the assault, much as she would have led aforlorn hope. The dragoons who plunged their swords into great mows ofstraw in Covenanting barns, the unfortunates who pursued a needlethrough a load of hay, were employed in hopeful work when compared withMistress Mary Lyon, searching with her tongue in this mass ofself-sufficiency for any trace of Boyd Connoway's long-lost conscience. 

"Why are you not at home?" she cried; "I heard Bridget complaining as Icame by, that she could not feed the pig because she had nobody to bringher wood for her boiler fire--and she in the middle of her blanketwashing!"

The husband whom fate and her own youthful folly had given to BridgetConnoway, took off his battered and weather-beaten hat with the nativepoliteness of a born Irishman. He did not rise. That would have been toomuch to expect of him. But he uncrossed his legs and recrossed them theother way about. 

"Mistress Lyon, " he said indolently, but with the soft, well-anointedutterance of the blarneying islander, which does not die away till thethird generation of the poorest exile from Erin, "now, misthress dear, consider!"

"I have considered you for seven years, and seven to the back of that, Boyd Connoway, and you are a lazy lout! Every year you get worse!"

My grandmother counted nothing so stimulating as truth spoken to theface. She acted, with all save her male grandchildren, on the ancientprinciple that "Praise to the face is an open disgrace!" And Boyd, inhis time, had been singularly exempt from this kind of disgrace, so faras my grandmother was concerned. 

"But consider, Mrs. Lyon, " he went on tranquilly, while my relativestood in the road and eyed him with bitter scorn, "there's my wife, nowshe's up early and late. She's scrubbing and cleaning, and all forwhat?--just that yonder pack o' children o' hers should go out on theroad and come trailing back in ten minutes dirtier than ever. She runsto Shepstone Oglethorpe's to give his maid a help in the mornings, allfor a miserable three shillings a week. She takes no rest to the sole ofher foot, nor gives nobody any either! Poor Bridget--I am sorry forBridget. 'Take things easier, and you will feel better, Bridget, ' I say. 'Trust in Providence, Bridget!' 'Think on what the Doctor said threeSundays but one ago from the very pulpit. ' And would ye believe me, Mistress Lyon, that poor woman, being left to herself, threw all theweights at me one after the other--aye, and would have thrown the scalestoo if I had not come away!"

Here Connoway sighed and stretched himself luxuriously, rubbing thestiff fell of his hair meditatively as he did so. 

"Ah, poor Bridget, " he continued, with pathos in his voice, "Bridget isso dreadfully unresigned, Mistress Lyon. Often have I said to her, 'Beresigned, Bridget--trust in Providence, Bridget!' But as sure as I pointout Bridget's duty, there is something broken in our house!"

"Pity but it was your head, Boyd Connoway! Come away, child!" cried mygrandmother, "quick--lest I do that man an injury. He puts me in such astate that I declare to goodness I am thankful I have not a poker in myhand! Now there's your grandfather----"

But she went no further in the discussion of her own lesser householdburden. For there right in front of us was the great gate, the batterednotice to trespassers, the broken standard on which the padlock, nowremoved, had worn a rusty hollow, and in its place we read the littlewhite notice concerning the hours at which the mistress of the mansioncould receive visitors. 

"Oh, the poor young things!" said my grandmother, her anger (as was itswont) instantly cooling, and even Boyd Connoway dropping back into hisown place as perhaps a necessary factor in an ill-regulated but on thewhole rather bearable world. 

The gate creaked open slowly. My grandmother drew herself up. For did shenot come of the best blood of the Westland Whigs, great-granddaughterof that Bell of Whiteside, kinsman of Kenmure's, who was shot by Lagon the moor of Kirkconnel, near to the Lynn through which the Tarfffoams white?

For me, I was chiefly conscious of the bushes and shrubs on either sidethe avenue, broken and trampled in the tumultuous rush of the populaceon the day of the discovery. I felt guilty. By that way GertyGreensleeves and I had passed, Gerty very close to my elbow. And now, like the rolling away of a panorama picture in a show, GertyGreensleeves, and all other maids save one, had passed out of my life. Or so, in my ignorance, I thought at the time. 

For no woman ever passes wholly out of any man's life--that is, if helives long enough. She steals back again with the coming of life'sgloaming, with the shadows of night creeping across the hills, or themorning mists swimming up out of the valley. Sometimes she is weeping, but more often smiling. For there is time enough, since the man lastthought of her, for all tears to be wiped from her eyes. But come shewill. Yet sometimes it is not so. She does not smile. She only stands onthe threshold of a man's soul with reproachful eyes, and lips drawn andmute. Then it is not good to be that man. 

But in those days, being a boy, carried along in the waft of mygrandmother's skirt, I knew nothing about such things. 

I watched my grandmother take the antique knocker between her fingers, noting with housewifely approval that it had recently been polished. Ihave seldom passed a more uncomfortable time of waiting, than thatbetween the resounding clatter of grandmother's knocking reverberatingthrough the empty house, and the patter of feet, the whispering, and atlast the opening of the door. 

Then I saw again the tall girl with the proudly angled chin, the crownof raven curls, and the pair of brave outlooking eyes that met all theworld with something that was even a little bold. 

I had been afraid that my grandmother, so indiscriminating in heradmonitions, might open fire upon this forlorn couple, isolated in thegreat haunted house of Marnhoul. But I need not have troubled. 

My grandmother had the instinct of caressing maternity for all theyoung, the forlorn, the helpless. So she only opened her arms and criedout, "Oh, you dears--you poor darlings!"

And the little boy, moved by the instinctive yearning of all that neededprotection, of everything of tender years and little strength towardsthe breast that had suckled and the hands that had nursed, let go hissister's hand and ran happily to my grandmother. She caught him in herarms and lifted him up with the easy habitual gesture of one longcertified as a mother in Israel. He threw his little arms about mygrandmother's neck, nestling there just as the rest of us used to dowhen we were in any trouble. 

"I like you! You are good!" he said. 

Miss Irma and I were therefore left eye to eye while Louis Maitland, inspite of his title, was so rapidly making friends with the actual headof our family. 

Irma eyed me, and I did the like to Miss Irma--that is, to the best ofmy ability, which in this matter was nothing to hers. She seemed to lookme through and through. At which I quailed, and then she appeared alittle more content. 

With the child still in her arms, and her voice, lately so harsh inrebuke, now tuned to the cooing of a nesting dove, my grandmotherintroduced herself. 

"Child, " she said to Miss Irma, "I am your nearest neighbour. Who shouldcome to welcome you if not I? You will find me at the farm ofHeathknowes. It is my goodman's saw-mills that you hear clattering fromwhere you stand, and I am come to see if there is anything I can do tohelp you. "

"I thank you----" began the girl, and then hesitated. She had meant todeclare that they wanted for nothing, perhaps to indicate that the wifeof a tenant was hardly a fitting "first-foot" to venture over thethreshold of a baronet of ancient name and of the sister who acted ashis sponsor, tutor and governor. 

But then Miss Irma did not know my grandmother as Eden Valley did, stillless as we who were, as one might say, of Cæsar's household. 

"Let me come in--I will soon see for myself!" quoth my grandmother, andmarched straight into the front hall of the Maitlands, that immensedusky cavern I had only once looked into over the pikes and pitchforks. She carried Sir Louis, tenth baronet of that name, on one arm. With herfree right hand she went hither and thither, sweeping her hand along theledges of great oak cabinets, blowing at the dust on the stonemantelpiece, and finally clearing the great curtained south-westernwindow to let in the sun in flakes and patches of scarlet and gold. 

Then she turned to Miss Irma and said in the tone of an expert who hasinspected a grave piece of work and not found it wanting, "You have donevery well, my dear!"

And at this Miss Irma changed the fashion of her countenance. Pleasureshone scarce concealed. It was certain that up to that moment she hadregarded my grandmother somewhat in the light of an intruder, but shecould not bear up against such an appeal from housewife to housewife. 

"Will you come up-stairs?" she said, "I have hardly got begun here yet. "

CHAPTER VI

THE APOTHEOSIS OF AGNES ANNE

No word or look included me in the invitation which Miss Irma tenderedto my grandmother. Nevertheless I followed, not knowing what else to do. I felt huge, awkward, clumsy of build and knotty of elbow and knee. Iwas conscious that my knuckles were red. I felt in the way and unhappy. In short, I hulked. Indeed, but that I was able to watch two eyes ofdarkest grey beneath a wisp of untamed curls on a small and shapelyhead, and the look of the thing, I would far rather have stopped out onthe doorstep with Crazy. 

And perhaps that would have been the best place for me, all thingsconsidered. 

After we had passed two or three rooms in review, all of which were, asit appeared to me, garnished with the ordinary sheets and coverlets of abedroom, my grandmother abruptly turned upon Miss Irma. 

"Let me see your hands!" she said, in her ordinary brusque manner. I wasin terror lest we should be shown to the door. But the freemasonry ofwork, the knowledge of things feminine, the fine little nod ofappreciation at a detail which is perfectly lost on a man, the flush ofanswering approbation had done their perfect work between the old womanand the girl. 

Such things were not within my ken, and my grandmother promptly banishedme. She set down the little baronet at the same time with a "Run andplay, my doo!" She issued directions for me to charge myself with theresponsibility. I would much rather have stayed to hear what grandmotherand Miss Irma had to say one to the other, because I was more interestedin that. But the choice was not given to me. Go I must. 

And with her first personal word of acknowledgment that I was a humanbeing, Miss Irma, calling me by name, indicated the "drawing-room" asthe place where we might await the end of this first congress of theHoly Alliance. 

I was some little alarmed at the place, the name of which so far I hadonly seen in books, but little Sir Louis whispered in my ear as he tookmy hand, "We can play there. That's only what sister Irma calls it!"

When my grandmother and Miss Irma appeared after an absence ofhalf-an-hour they found the two of us deep in a game of bat-ball. I madean attempt to hide the ball, fearing lest Miss Irma might think Iusually carried such things about with me (I had confiscated it in classthat day). But I need not have troubled, she paid no attention whateverto me, continuing to hold my grandmother's hand and look into the wise, stormy, tender, emphatic, much-enduring old face. And I wondered at myrelative, and saw in this marvel one more proof of her owninfallibility. 

"You must not stay any longer in this great house alone, " she wassaying, "I will send you--somebody. "

Then she looked again at Miss Irma's hands, and though I did not seewhy, nor understand at the time, she added, "No--no--it will neverdo--never do!" I wish I could say that on this first occasion of ourmeeting, Miss Irma devoted a little of her attention to me. But thetruth is, she had eyes for nobody but Mistress Mary Lyon ofHeathknowes. True, a glance occasionally came my way, which caused meinstinctively to straighten myself up and square my shoulders, as I didin the playground when acting as drill sergeant to the juniors. But thevery same glance with quite as much personality in it, passed on toCrazy, who, to the exuberant delight of little Louis, had by this timeintruded himself. It was impossible for the most self-conceited to bringaway much comfort or encouragement from favours so slight as these. 

Even Louis, after the advent of Crazy, considered me only as hisdrill-sergeant, and valued me according as Crazy consented to show offhis tricks at the word of command from me. 

"Behave, sir! You are in the kirk!" cried I. And lo! to the boy's wonderCrazy, who had been gambolling about on the bare floor, sank down withhis head between his paws and his eyes hypocritically closed, till Igave the signal, "Now fight the French!" Upon which uprose Crazy like adancing bear on his hind legs, and jumped about with flaming eyes, barking with all his might. This, being the performance which pleasedCrazy most, was also the favourite with the young Sir Louis. 

Indeed leavetaking was difficult, though by no means on my account. ForMiss Irma was all taken up with grandmother and little Louis with Crazy. Nobody minded me, and Miss Irma did not so much as reach me a finger, though at the last she just nodded, and Sir Louis had to be removedwailing, because he wished to keep his arms tight about the shaggy neckof Master Crazy, that singularly indifferent sheep-dog, but excellentvariety entertainer. 

It was, however, promised that Crazy should return, and as I knew thatCrazy would by no means perform without me, considering himself bound tome by hours of patient labour and persistent fellow truantry, I saw somelight on the horizon of an otherwise dark future. I must go back too. But in the meantime Louis wept uncomforted, and "batted" his sister withbaby palms in the impotence of his anger as she carried him within. 

My grandmother said nothing of any importance on the way home. She wasevidently thinking deeply, and confined herself to "Hush, you there!"and "Do ye hear what I was saying to ye?" Under a fire of suchlikeremarks, delivered more or less at random, and without the leastdiscrimination between the barking of Crazy (the effect) and me (thecause)--I kept a little in the rear so that I might have a sober face onme when she turned round, while the less subtle Crazy galloped infurious circles yapping and leaping up even in my grandmother's face. Hewas, however, useful in drawing her fire, and though I had to keep asharp look-out for the stones she caught up to throw at Crazy (who ranno personal danger) our home-coming was effected in good order and withconsiderable amusement to myself. 

But on her arrival at Heathknowes, Mrs. Mary Lyon found that there wereforces in the universe which even she was powerless to conquer. 

Meg, the "indoor" lass at Heathknowes, refused point-blank to go onefoot in the direction of the "Ghaist's Hoose. " She persisted in herrefusal even when addressed by the awe-inspiring baptismal name ofMargaret Simprin Hetherington, and reminded of the terms of herengagement. 

No, Margaret Simprin Hetherington would not--could not--dared not--staya night in the great house of Marnhoul. Whatever my grandmother mightsay it was not so nominated in the bond. She had been hired to serveabout the farmhouse of Heathknowes, and she did not mind carrying theirdinners to the workmen in the saw-mill----

"No, " interpolated my grandmother, "nor taking an hour-and-a-half to doit in!"

Upon which, as if stirred by some association of ideas, Meg added thatshe would go none to Marnhoul Big Hoose, "because not a soul would comenear the place. " It did not matter whether _she_ believed in Grey Ladieswith rain-drops pattering through them or not--other people did, and shewould not be banished "among the clocks and rattons"--no, not for doublewages!

My grandmother, indeed, explained that there was no question of ladiesgrey or rain-drops pattering, but of obedience to her legal mistress. 

But she knew that the cause was lost, and I am quite sure anticipatedthe reply of Margaret Simprin Hetherington, which was to the effect thatno lass, indoor or outdoor, was more willing to obey her mistress thanshe, but it would be in the place in which she had been hired toserve--there and not elsewhere. 

For once my grandmother was nonplussed. Being a good Galloway woman sheknew that of all things it is most impossible to run counter to thesuperstitions of her people. Perhaps she retained a touch of theseherself. But, as she said, "The grace of the Lord can overcome all thewiles of the Evil One! And Mary Lyon would like to see witch or warlock, ghost or ghostling, that would come in her road when she went forthunder His banner. " On the darkest night she marched unafraid, conqueringand to conquer, having the superstitions born in her, but knowing allthe same (and all the better for that knowledge) on which side were thebigger battalions. 

It was no use to send my Aunt Jen, who had once been "in a place"before. Aunt Jen would go, but--she would take her tongue with her. Shehad her mother's command of language, but was utterly destitute of hertact, lacking also, as was natural, the maternal instinct. As, in amoment of exasperation my grandmother once said of her, "Our Jinnet isdried up like a crab-tree in the east wind!"

She would certainly undo all that Mistress Mary Lyon had done, and "thatpuir young lassie" (as she called Miss Irma) carried a warlike flash inher eye which warned the rugged grandmotherly heart that she and ourAunt Jen could not long bide at peace in the same house. 

My mother might have done, as far as temper was concerned, but shewanted what grandmother called the "needcessary birr. " Besides which shehad more than enough to do in caring for her own house, mending myfather's clothes and misinforming the public as to Post Officeregulations. On the whole, though she loved her married daughter, Ithink Mary Lyon was not a little sorry for my father, John MacAlpine, inhis choice of a housekeeper. I could see this by the occasional descentsshe made upon our house, and the way she had of going about the rooms, setting things to rights, silent save for a running comment of softsniffs upon the nose of contempt--the while my mother, after asympathetic glance at me, devoted herself to silent prayer thatgrandmother would not light upon anything very bad. 

With my grandmother, to fail in the due ordering of a house was acardinal sin. And my poor mother sinned, not indeed by intention, hardly even in labour, but in that appearance of easy perfection, whichin a household is the result of excellent plans thoroughly and timeouslycarried out. She was apt to be found late of an afternoon in a chairwith a book--and the dinner dishes still unwashed. Then Agnes Anne, mysister, would come in without a word. Her school frock would be quicklyshrouded under a great coarse apron. If I happened to be within doors Iwas beckoned to assist. If not, not--and Agnes Anne did them herselfwhile my mother slept on. 

But I do not think that grandmother knew this, for she very generallyignored Agnes Anne altogether, having a decided preference for boys in afamily. It fell out, therefore, that when she came a little shamefacedlyto consult my father, as she sometimes did in days of difficulty--forunder a show of contempt she often really submitted to his judgment--itwas given to Agnes Anne to say suddenly, "Let me go to Marnhoul, grandmother!" If Balaam's ass (or say, Crazy), had spoken these words, grandmother could not have been more astonished. 

More so still when John MacAlpine nodded approval. 

"Yes, let the lassie go--let her put her hand to the work. The burdencannot be too soon laid on young shoulders--that is, if they are strongenough. "

Mary Lyon stared, as if both he and his daughter had suddenly takenleave of their senses. 

"Why, what can the lassie _do_?" she cried; "I thought you were makingher nothing but a don in the dead languages!"

"I can bake, and brew, and wash, and keep a house clean, " said AgnesAnne, putting in her testimonials, since there was no one so wellacquainted with them. My father nodded. He was not so blind as manymight suppose. My mother said, "Aye, 'deed, she can that. Agnes Anne isa good lass. I know not what I should do without her!"

My grandmother looked about at the new air of tidiness, and for thefirst time a suspicion crossed her mind that, out of a pit from whichshe was expecting no such treasure, some one in her own image mightpossibly have been digged among her descendants of the secondgeneration. She looked at Agnes Anne with a ray of hope. Agnes Annestood the awful searching power of that eye. Agnes Anne did not flinch. Mary Lyon nodded her head with its man's close-cropped locks of roughwhite hair in lyart locks about her ears. 

"You'll do, Agnes Anne, you'll do, " she said, adding cautiously, "thatis, after a time"--so as not to exalt the girl above measure. It was, however, recognized by all as a definite triumph for my sister. Mygrandmother, a rigid Calvinist, who believed in Election with all herintellect, and acted Free Will with all her heart, elected Agnes Anneupon the spot. Had the girl not willed to rise out of the pit of slothand mere human learning? And lo! she had arisen. Thenceforth Agnes Annestood on a pedestal, and for a while one sturdy disciple of Calvin'sthought heretically of the pure doctrine. Here was a human being who hadwilled, and, according to my grandmother, had made of herself a miracleof grace. 

But she recalled herself to more orthodox sentiments. The steel was outof the sheath, indeed, but it had to be tried. Even yet Agnes Anne mightbe found wanting. 

"When will you be ready to start?" she said, turning her black twinklingeyes upon her granddaughter. 

"In five minutes, " said Agnes Anne boldly. 

"And you are not frightened?"

"Of what?"

"Of these vain tales--ghosts, hauntings, and so forth. Our Meg Simprin(silly maid!) would not move a foot, and you are far younger. "

"I am no younger than those who are in the house already, " said AgnesAnne, with great sense, which even I would hardly have expected fromher, "and if ghosts are spirits, as the Bible says, I do not see thatthey can interfere with housework!"

My grandmother rose solemnly from her seat, patted Agnes Anne on thetop-knot of her hair, shook hands with John MacAlpine, nodded meaninglyat my mother, and said, "Come along, young lass, " in a tone which showedthat the aged shepherdess had unexpectedly found a lamb whom she longcounted lost absolutely butting against the door of the sheep-fold. 

This was the apotheosis of Agnes Anne. Her life dates from that eveningin our kitchen, even as mine did from the afternoon when one half thefools of Eden Valley were letting off shot-guns at the back windows ofMarnhoul Great House, while Miss Irma withstood the others on thethreshold of the front door. 

CHAPTER VII

THE DOCTOR'S ADVENT

The firm of lawyers in Dumfries, the agents for the Maitland properties, did not seem to be taking any measures to dispossess Miss Irma and youngSir Louis. Perhaps they, too, had private information. Perhaps those whohad brought the children to Marnhoul may have been in the confidence ofthat notable firm of Smart, Poole & Smart in the High Street. At anyrate they made no move towards ejection. They may also have argued thatany one who could dispossess the ghosts and make Marnhoul once more ahabitable mansion, was welcome to the tenancy. 

It was the Reverend Doctor Gillespie who, first of all the distinguishedmen of the parish, received in some slight degree the confidence of MissIrma. Grandmother knew more, of course, and perhaps, also, Agnes Anne. But, with the feeling of women towards those whom they approve, theybecame Irma's accomplices. Women are like that. When you tell them asecret, if they don't like you, they become traitors. If they do, theyare at once confederates. But the Doctor visited Marnhoul as adeputation, officially, and also for the purpose of setting the minds ofthe genteel at rest. 

The Doctor's lady gave him no peace till he did his duty. The General'swomenfolk at the Bungalow were clamorous. It was not seemly. Somethingmust be done, and since the action of Mr. Shepstone Oglethorpe on theoccasion of the assault on the house had put _him_ out of the question, and as the General flatly refused to have anything to do with theaffair, it was obvious that the duty must fall to the Doctor. 

Nor could a better choice have been made. Eden Valley has known manypreachers, but never another such pastor--never a shepherd of the sheeplike the Doctor. I can see him yet walking down the manse avenue--it hadbeen just "the Loaning" in the days before the advent of the second Mrs. Doctor Gillespie--a silver-headed cane in his hand, everything about himcarefully groomed, and his very port breathing a peculiarly grave andsober dignity. Grey locks, still plentiful, clustered about his head. His cocked hat (of the antique pattern which, early in his ministry, hehad imported by the dozen from Versailles) never altered in pattern. Buckles of unpolished silver shone dully at his knee and bent across hissquare-toed shoes. 

Above all spread his neckcloth, spotless, enveloping, cumbrous, reverence-compelling, a cravat worthy of a Moderator. And indeed theDoctor--our Doctor, parish minister of Eden Valley, had "passed theChair" of the General Assembly. We were all proud of the fact, eventop-lofty Cameronians like my grandmother secretly delighting in thethought of the Doctor in his robes of office. 

"There would be few like him away there in Edinburgh, " she would say. "The Doctor's a braw man, and does us credit afore the great of theland--for a' that he's a Moderate!"

And had he been the chief of all the Moderates, the most volcanic andaggressive of Moderates, my grandmother would have found some good thingto say of a fellow-countryman of so noble a presence--"so personable, "and "such a credit to the neighbourhood. "

Wisdom, grave and patient, was in every line of his kindly face. Something boyish and innocent told that the shades of the prison-househad never wholly closed about him. It was good to lift the hat to Dr. Gillespie as he went along--hat a little tip-tilted off thebroadly-furrowed brow. In the city he is very likely to stop and regardthe most various wares--children's dolls or ladies' underpinnings. Butthink not that the divine is interested in such things. His mind isabsent--in communion with things very far away. Lift your hat and salutehim. He will not see you, but--it will do _you_ good!

William Gillespie was the son of a good ministerial house. His fatherhad occupied the same pulpit. He himself had been born in his ownmanse--which is to say, in all the purple of which our grey Puritan landcan boast. We were proud of the Doctor, and had good reason therefor. Ihave said that even my field-preaching grandmother looked upon theErastian with a moisture quasi-maternal in her eyes, and as for us who"sat under him and listened to his speech, " we came well-nigh to worshiphim. 

Yet "the Doctor" was self-effacing beyond many, and only our properrespect for the "Lady of the Manse" kept the parishioners in theirplaces. Discourses which he had preached in the callow days of his youthon the "Book of the Revelation" had brought hearers from many distantparishes, and at that time the Doctor had had several "calls" and"offers" to proceed to other spheres on account of their fame. But hehad always refused to repeat any of them. 

"I have changed my mind about many things since then, " he would say;"young men are apt to be hasty! The greatest of all heresies isdogmatism. "

But among the older saints of the parish that "series of expositions"was not forgotten. "It was" (they averred) "like the licht o' anitherworld to look on his face--just heeven itsel' to listen to him. Sirceme, there are no such discourses to be heard now-a-days--not even from_himsel'_!"

And be it remembered that our dear Doctor could unbend--that is, infitting time and place. From the seats of the mighty, from Holyrood andthe Moderator's chair our Cincinnatus returned to shepherd his quietflock among the bosky silences of Eden Valley. He wore his learning, allhis weight of honour lightly--with a smile, even with a slight shrug ofthe shoulder. The smile, even the jest, rose continually to his lips, especially when his wife was not present. But at all times he rememberedhis office, and often halted with the ancient maxim at the sight of someintruder, "Let us be sober--yonder comes a fool!" And many of hisvisitors noticed this sudden sobriety without once suspecting its cause. 

Even the Cameronians agreed that there was "unction" in the Doctor. Forhis brave word's sake they forgave the heresies of his church about theCivil Magistrate, and said freely among themselves that if in everyparish there was such a minister as Dr. Gillespie, the civil magistratewould be compelled to take a very back seat indeed. But it was onCommunion Sabbath days that the Doctor became, as it were, transfigured, the face of him shining, though he wist not of it. 

Something of the spirit of the Crucified was poured forth that day uponmen and women humbly bowing their heads over the consecrated memorialsof His love. 

A silence of a rare and peculiar sanctity filled the little bare, deep-windowed kirk. The odour of the flowering lilacs came in likeNature's own incense, and the plain folk of Eden Valley got a foretaste, faint and dim, but sufficient, of the Land where the tables shall neverbe withdrawn. 

Better preachers than the Doctor?--We grant it you, though there aremany in the Valley who will not agree, but not one more fitted to breakthe bread of communion before the white-spread tables. 

It was Agnes Anne who opened the door of Marnhoul, and stood a momentastonished at the sight of the Doctor all in black and silver--hat, coat, knee-breeches, silken hose and leathern shoes of the first, locks, studs, knee-buckles, shoe-buckles all of the second. 

But our Agnes Anne was truly of the race of Mary Lyon, so in a momentshe said, "Pray come in, sir!" with the self-respect of the daughter ofa good house, as well as the dutifulness which she owed to one soreverend and so revered. 

The Doctor was not surprised. He smiled as he recognized theschool-master's daughter. But he betrayed nothing. He laid his hand asusual on her smooth locks by way of a blessing, and inquired if MissMaitland and Sir Louis were at home. 

"They are in the school-room, " said Agnes Anne, in the mostbusiness-like tone in the world; "come this way, sir. "

It was a very different house--that which Agnes Anne showed theDoctor--from the cobweb-draped, dust-strewn, deserted mansion of a fewweeks ago. Simply considering them as caretakers, the Dumfries lawyersought to have welcomed their new tenants. So far as cleanliness went, Miss Irma had done a great deal--so much, indeed, as to earn the praiseof that severest of critics, my grandmother. 

But there was much that no girl could do alone. Chair-seats andsofa-cushions had been beaten till no speck of dust was left. This hadhad to be carefully gone about. For though, apparently, no thieves hadbroken through to steal, it was evident that the house had last beenoccupied by people of excessively careless habits, who had put muddyboots on chairs and trampled regardlessly everywhere. But the other halfof the text held good. Moth and rust had certainly corrupted. 

However, Agnes Anne was handy with her needle, in spite of her fatherand his class on Ovid. There was always a good deal to do in our house, and since mother made no great effort, and was generally tired, it fellto Agnes Anne to do it. 

She it was who had re-covered the worn old drawing-room chairs withbrocade found in the deep, cedar-wood lined cupboards, along with wealthof ancient court dresses, provision of household linen, and all that hadbelonged to the Maitlands on the day when, after the falling of the headof their house upon Tower Hill, the great old mansion had been shut up. 

The Doctor had been strictly enjoined to take good heed to writeeverything down on his mental tablets, and to give careful account tohis lady. He found the two young Maitlands seated at a table from whichthe cloth had been lifted at one corner to make room for copybooks, ink, pens and reading-books. Evidently Miss Irma was instructing her brother. 

"Now, Louis, " they heard her say as they came in, "remember the destinyto which you are called, and that now is the time----"

"The Doctor to call upon you!" Agnes Anne announced in a tone of awebefitting the occasion. 

Then the stately apparition in black and silver which followed her intothe room came slowly forward, smiling with outstretched hand. Miss Irmawas not in the least put out. She rose and swept a curtsey with bowedhead. Little Sir Louis, evidently awed by the sedate grandeur which satso well upon the visitor, paused a moment as if uncertain how he oughtto behave. 

He was a little behind his sister, and completely out of the range ofher vision, so he felt himself safe in sucking the ink from the side ofhis second finger, and rubbing the wet place hard on his black velvetbreeches. Then, as Miss Irma glanced round, he fell also to his mannersand bowed gravely--unconsciously imitating the grand manner of theDoctor himself. 

The room used for lessons was a wide, pleasant place, rather low in theroof, plainly panelled and wainscotted in dark oak, with a single lineof dull gold beading running about it high up. There was a largefireplace, with a seat all the way round, and a stout iron basket tohold the fire of sea-coal, when such was used. Brass and irons stood atthe side, convenient for faggots. A huge crane and many S-shapedpot-hooks discovered the fact that at some time this place had beenoccupied as a kitchen, perhaps in the straitened days of the last"attainted" Maitlands. 

But now the chamber was pleasant and warm, the windows open to the airand the song of the birds. Dimity curtains hung on the great poles bythe windows and stirred in the breeze, as if they had been lying forhalf a century in dusky cupboards. Agnes Anne looked carefully to see ifthe darning showed, and decided that not even her grandmother could spyit out--how much less, then, the Doctor. 

She was, however, annoyed that the tall, brass-faced clock in thecorner, dated "Kilmaurs, 1695, " could not be made to go. But she had apromise from Boyd Connoway that he would "take a look at her" as soon ashe had attended to three gardens and docked the tails of a litter ofpromising puppies. 

The Doctor bowed graciously over the hand of Miss Irma, and shook handsgravely with Sir Louis, who a second time had rubbed his finger on hisblack velvet suit, just to make assurance doubly sure. 

The conversation followed a high plane of social commonplace. 

"Yes, " said Miss Irma, "it is true that our family has been a long timeabsent from the neighbourhood, but you are right in supposing that wemean to settle down here for some time. "

Then she deigned to enter into particulars. She had her brother to bringup according to his rank, for, since there was no one else to undertakethe charge, it fell to her lot. Luckily she had received a goodeducation up to the time when she had the misfortune----

"Ah, " said the Doctor quickly, "I understand. "

He said nothing further in words, but his sympathetic silence conveyed agreat deal, and was more eloquent and consolatory than most people'sspeech. 

"And where were you educated?" asked the Doctor gently. 

"My father sent me to the Ursuline Sisters in Paris, " said Miss Irmacalmly. 

The Doctor was secretly astonished and much disappointed, but his faceexpressed nothing beyond his habitual good nature. He replied, "Thenyour father has had you brought up a Catholic, Miss Maitland?"

"Indeed, no, " answered Miss Irma, "only he had often occasion to be awayon his affairs, and to keep me out of mischief he left me with theUrsulines and my aunt the Abbess. At my father's death I might havestayed on with the good sisters, but I left because I was not allowed tosee my brother. "

"Then am I right in thinking that--that--in fact--you are aPresbyterian?" said the Doctor, playing with the inlaid snuffbox whichhe carried in his hand. The amount of time he occupied in tapping thelid and the invisibility of the pinches he had ever been seen to takewere alike marvels in the district. 

"I have no religious prejudices, " said Miss Irma to the Doctor, in acalm, well-bred manner which must have secretly amused thatdistinguished theologian, fresh from editing the works of Manton. 

"I did not speak of prejudices, dear young lady" (he spoke gently, yetwith the thrill in his voice which showed how deeply he was moved), "butof belief, of religion, of principles of thought and action. "

Miss Irma opened her eyes very wide. The sound of the Doctor's wordscame to her ears like the accents of an unknown tongue. 

"The sisters were very good people, " she said at last; "they givethemselves a great deal of trouble----"

"What kind of trouble?" said the Doctor. 

"Kneeling and scrubbing floors for one thing, " said Miss Irma; "gettingup at all hours, doing good works, praying, and burning candles to theVirgin. "

"I should advise you, " said the Doctor, with his most gentle accent, "tosay as little as possible about that part of your experience here inEden Valley. "

Miss Irma looked exceedingly surprised. 

"I thought I told you they were exceedingly good people. They were verykind to me, though they looked on me as a lost heretic. I am sure theysaid prayers for me many times a day!"

The Doctor looked more hopeful. He was thinking that after all he mightmake something of his strange parishioner, when the young lady recalledhim by a repetition of her former declaration, "As I said, I have noreligious prejudices!"

"No, " said the Doctor a little sharply--for him, "but still each one ofus ought to be fully persuaded in his own mind. "

"And that means, " Miss Irma answered, quick as a flash, "that most of usare fully persuaded according to our father and mother's mind, and theway they have brought us up. But then, you see, I never _was_ broughtup. I know very well that my family were Presbyterians. Once I readabout their sufferings in two great volumes by a Mr. Wodrow, or somesuch name. But then my grandfather lost most of his estates fighting forthe King----"

"For the Popish Pretender, " said the Doctor, who could speak no smooththings when it was a matter of the Revolution Settlement and thegovernment of King George. 

"For the man he believed to be king, while others stayed snugly athome, " persisted Miss Irma. "Then my mother was a Catholic, and myfather too busy to care----"

"My poor young maid, " said the Doctor, "it is wonderful to see you asyou are!"

And secretly the excellent man was planning out a campaign to lead thislamb into the fold of that Kirk of Scotland, for the purity of whosedoctrine and intact spiritual independence her forefathers had shedtheir blood. 

"At any rate, " said he, rising and bending again over the girl's handwith old-fashioned politeness, "you will remember that your family pewis in the front of our laft--I mean in the gallery of the parish kirkof Eden Valley. "

And the Doctor took his leave without ever remembering that he hadfailed in the principal part of his mission, having quite forgotten tofind out by what means these two young things came to find themselvesalone in the Great House of Marnhoul. 

CHAPTER VIII

KATE OF THE SHORE

It was, I think, ten days after Agnes Anne had left us for the old houseof the Maitlands when she came to me at the school-house. My father hadFred Esquillant in with him, and the two were busy with Sophocles. I wassitting dreaming with a book of old plays in my hand when Agnes Annecame in. 

"Duncan, " she said, "I am feared to bide this night at Marnhoul. And Ithink so is Miss Irma. Now I would rather not tell grandmother--so youmust come!"

"Feared?" said I; "surely you never mean ghosts--and such nonsense, Agnes Anne--and you the daughter of a school-master!"

"It's the solid ghosts I am feared of, " said Agnes Anne; "haste you, andask leave of father. He is so busy, he will never notice. He has Freddyin with him, I hear. "

So Agnes Anne and I went in together. We could see the man's head andthe boy's bent close together, and turned from us so that the westeringlight could fall upon their books. Fred Esquillant was to be a greatscholar and to do my father infinite credit when he went to theuniversity. For me I was only a reader of English, a scribbler of versesin that language, a paltry essayist, with no sense of the mathematicsand no more than an average classic. Therefore in the school I was amere hewer of wood and drawer of water to my father. 

"Duncan is coming with me to bide the night at Marnhoul, " said AgnesAnne, "and he is going to take 'King George' with him to--scare thefoxes!"

"From the hen-coops?" said my father, looking carelessly up. "Let himtake care not to shoot himself then. He has no nicety of handling!"

I am sure that really he meant in the classics, for his thoughts wererunning that way and I could see that he was itching to be at it againwith Freddy. 

"Tell your mother, " he said, adjusting his spectacles on his nose, "andplease shut the door after you!"

Having thus obtained leave from the power-that-was, the matter wasbroken to my mother. She only asked if we had told John, and beingassured of that, felt that her entire responsibility was cleared, and sosubsided into the fifth volume of Sir Charles Grandison, where thrillingthings were going on in the cedar parlour. It was my mother's favouritebook, but was carefully laid aside when my grandmother came--nay, evenconcealed as conscientiously as I under my coat conveyed away thebell-mouthed, silver-mounted blunderbuss which hung over the hat-rack inthe lobby. Buckshot, wads, and a powderhorn I also secreted about myperson. 

On our way I catechized Agnes Anne tightly as to the nature of thedanger which had put her so suddenly in fear. But she eluded me. Indeed, I am not sure she knew herself. All I could gather was that a letterwhich had reached Miss Irma that morning, had given warning of troubleof some particular deadly sort impending upon the dwellers in the houseof Marnhoul. When Agnes Anne opened the door of the hall to let thesunshine and air into the gloomy recesses where the shadows still lurkedin spite of the light from the high windows, she had found a foldedletter nailed to the door of Marnhoul. The blade of a foreign-lookingknife had been thrust through it deep into the wood, and the stag's-hornhandle turned down in the shape of a reversed capital V--the springholding the paper firm. It was addressed to Miss Irma Maitland, andevidently had reference to something disastrous, for all day Miss Irmahad gone about with a pale face, and a pitiful wringing action of herfingers. No words, however, had escaped her except only "What shall Ido? Oh, what shall I do? My Louis--my poor little Louis!"

The danger, then, whatever it might be, was one which particularlytouched the boy baronet. I could not help hoping that it might not beany plot of the lawyers in Dumfries to get him away. For if I wereobliged to fire off "King George, " and perhaps kill somebody, Ipreferred that it should not be against those who had the law on theirside. For in that case my father might lose his places, both as chiefteacher and as postmaster. 

I got Agnes Anne to look after "King George, " my blunderbuss, while Iwent round to the village to see if anything was stirring about thedwelling of Constable Jacky. She would only permit me to do this oncondition that I proved the gun unloaded, and permitted her to lock itcarefully in one cupboard, while the powder and shot reposed each on aseparate shelf outside in the kitchen, lest being left to themselves theelements of destruction might run together and blow up the house. 

I scudded through the village, passing from one end of the long streetto the other. Constable Jacky in his shirt sleeves, was peaceablypeeling potatoes on his doorstep, while with a pipe in his mouth BoydConnoway was looking on and telling him how. The village of Eden Valleywas never quieter. Several young men of the highest consideration werewaiting within call of the millinery establishment of the elder MissHuntingdon, on the chance of being able to lend her "young ladies" strayvolumes of Rollin's _Ancient History_, Defoe's _Religious Courtship_, orsuch other volumes as were likely to fan the flame of love's young dreamin their hearts. I saw Miss Huntingdon herself taking stock of themthrough the window, and as it were, separating the sheep from the goats. For she was a particular woman, Miss Huntingdon, and never allowed thelightest attentions to "her young ladies" without keeping the parents ofher charges fully posted on the subject. 

All, therefore, was peace in the village of Eden Valley. Yet I nearlychanced upon war. My grandmother called aloud to some one as I passedalong the street. For a moment I thought she had caught me, in spite ofthe cap which I had pulled down over my eyes and the coat collar I hadpulled up above my ears. 

If she got me, I made sure that she would instantly come to the greathouse of Marnhoul with all the King's horses and all the King's men--andso, as it were, spoil the night from which I expected so much. 

But it was the slouching figure of Boyd Connoway which had attracted herattention. As I sped on I heard her asking details as to the amount ofwork he had done that day, how he expected to keep his wife and familythrough the winter, whether he had split enough kindling wood andbrought in the morning's supply of water--also (most unkindly of all)who had paid for the tobacco he was smoking. 

To these inquiries, all put within the space of half-a-minute, I couldnot catch Connoway's replies. Nor did I wait to hear. It was enough forme to find myself once more safe between the hedges and going as hard asmy feet could carry me in the direction of the gate of Marnhoul. 

No sooner was I in the kitchen with the stone floor and the freshlyscoured tin and pewter vessels glinting down from the dresser, than Iheard the voice of Miss Irma asking to be informed if I had come. ToAgnes Anne she called me "your big brother, " and I hardly ever rememberbeing so proud of anything as of that adjective. 

Then after my sister had answered, Miss Irma came down the stairs withher quick light step, not like any I had ever heard. With a trip and arustle she came bursting in upon us, so that all suddenly the quaint oldkitchen, with its shining utensils catching the red sunshine through thelow western window and the swaying ivy leaves dappling the floor ofbluish-grey, was glorified by her presence. 

She was younger in years than myself, but something of race, ofrefinement, of experience, some flavour of an adventurous past and ofstrange things seen and known, made her appear half-a-dozen years thesenior of a country boy like me. 

"Has he come?" she asked, before ever she came into the kitchen; "is heafraid?"

"Only of being in a house alone with two girls, " said Agnes Anne, "but Iam most afraid of father's blunderbuss which he has brought with him. "

"Nonsense, " said Miss Irma, determination marked in every line of herface. "We have a well-armed man on the premises. It is a house fit tostand a siege. Why, I turned away three score of them with a darningneedle. "

"Not but what it is far more serious this time!" she said, a littlesadly. By this time I was reassembling the scattered pieces of "KingGeorge's" armament, while Agnes Anne, in terror of her life, wassearching on the floor and along the passages for things she had notlost. 

As soon as I had got over my first awe of Miss Irma, I asked herpoint-blank what was the danger, so that I might know what dispositionsto take. 

I had seen the phrase in an old book, thin and tall, which my fatherpossessed, called _Monro's Expedition_. But Irma bade me help to makethe ground floor of the mansion as strong as possible, and then comeup-stairs to the parlour, where she would tell me "all that it wasnecessary for me to know. "

I wished she had said "everything"--for, though not curious by nature, Ishould have been happy to be confided in by Miss Irma. To my delight, ongoing round I found that all the lower windows had been fitted with ironshutters, and these, though rusty, were in perfectly good condition. Inthis task of examination Miss Irma assisted me, and though I would notlet her put a finger to the sharp-edged flaky iron, it was a pleasure tofeel the touch of her skirt, while once she laid a hand on my arm toguide me to a little dark closet the window of which was protected by ahingeless plate of iron, held in position by a horizontal bar fittinginto the stonework on either side. 

There was not so much to be done above stairs, where the shutters wereof fine solid oak and easily fitted. But I sought out an oriel window ofa tower which commanded the pillared doorway. For I did not forget whatI had seen when the Great House of Marnhoul was besieged by the rabbleof Eden Valley. It was there that the danger was if the house should beattempted. 

But I so arranged it, that whoever attacked the house, I should at leastget one fair chance at them with "King George, " our very wide-scatteringblunderbuss. 

In the little room in which this window was, we gathered. It made a kindof watch-tower, for from it one could see both ways--down the avenue tothe main road, and across the policies towards the path that led up fromthe Killantringan shore. 

I felt that it was high time for me to know against what I was to fight. Not that I was any way scared. I do not think I thought about that atall, so pleased was I at being where I was, and specially anxious thatno one should come to help, so as to share with me any of the creditthat was my due from Miss Irma. 

Agnes Anne, indeed, was afraid of what she was going to hear. For as yetshe had been told nothing definite. But then she was tenfold more afraidof "King George"--mostly, I believe, because it had been made a kind offetish in our house, and the terrible things that would happen if wemeddled with it continually represented to us by our mother. Finally, wearranged that "King George" should be set in the angle of the orielwindow, the muzzle pointing to the sky, and that in the pauses of thetale, I should keep a look-out from the watch-tower. 

"It is my brother Louis--Sir Louis Maitland--whom they are seeking!"

Miss Irma made this statement as if she had long faced it, and now foundnothing strange about the matter. But I think both Agnes Anne and I weregreatly astonished, though for different reasons. For my sister hadnever imagined that there was any danger worse than the presence of"King George" in the window corner, and as for me, the hope of helpingto protect Miss Irma herself from unknown peril was enough. I asked forno better a chance than that. 

"We have a cousin, " she continued, "Lalor Maitland is his name, who wasin the rebellion, and was outlawed just like my father. He took up thetrade of spying on the poor folk abroad and all who had dealings withthem. He was made governor of the strong castle of Dinant on the Meuse, deep in the Low Countries. With him my father, who wrongly trusted himas he trusted everybody, left little Louis. I was with my aunt, theAbbess of the Ursulines, at the time, or the thing had not befallen. Forfrom the first I hated Lalor Maitland, knowing that though he appearedto be kind to us, it was only a pretence. 

"He entertained us hospitably enough in a suite of rooms very high up inthe Castle of Dinant above the Meuse river, and came to see us everyday. He was waiting till he should make his peace with the English. Thenhe would do away with my brother and----"

She paused, and a kind of shuddering whiteness came across the girl'sface. It was like the flashing of lightning from the east to the westthat my grandmother reads about in her Bible--a sort of shining ofhatred and determination like a footstep set on wet sand. "But no, " sheadded, "he would not have married me, even if he had kept me shut up forever in his Castle of Dinant on the Meuse!"

Then all at once I began very mightily to hate this Lalor Maitland, Governor of the Castle of Dinant. I resolved to charge "King George" tothe very muzzle, wait till he was within half-a-dozen paces, and--lethim have it. For I made no doubt that it was he who was coming inperson to carry off Miss Irma and Sir Louis back again to his dungeons. For though Irma had not called them that, I felt sure that she had beenshamefully used. And though I did not proclaim the fact, I knew the nameand address of a willing deliverer. I grew so anxious about the matterthat Agnes Anne three times bade me put down "King George" or I shouldbe sure to shoot some of them, or, most likely of all, little Louis inhis cot-bed up-stairs. 

"However, at last we escaped" (Miss Irma went on), "and I will tell youhow--what I have not told to any here--not even to your good grandmotheror the clergyman. It was through our nurse, a Kirkbean woman and hername Kate Maxwell, called Mickle Kate o' the Shore. Her father and allher folk were smugglers, as, I understand, are the most of the farmersalong the Solway side. Some of these she could doubtless have married, but Kate herself had always looked higher. The son of a farmer over thehill, from a place called the Boreland of Colvend, had wintered sheep onher father's lands. Many a sore cold morning (so she said) had they goneout together to clear the snow from the feeding troughs. I suppose thatwas how it began, but in addition the lad had ambition. He learned welland readily, and after a while he went into a lawyer's office inDumfries, while Kate o' the Shore went abroad with the family of a Leithmerchant, to serve at Rotterdam. She wanted to save money for the houseshe was going to set up with the lawyer's clerk. So, rather than comeback at the year's end, she took the place which the Governor of DinantCastle offered her, and he was no other than our cousin Lalor. 

"In a little while Kate of the Shore had grown to hate our cousin. Why, I cannot tell, for he always bowed to her as to a lady, and indeedshowed her far more kindness than ever he used to us. When we wanted alittle play on the terrace or a sweetcake from the town, we tried atfirst to get Kate to ask for us. But afterwards she would not. And shegrew determined to leave the Castle of Dinant as soon as might be, making her escape and taking us with her. Her Boreland lad, Tam Hislop, had told her all about the estates and the great house standing empty. So nothing would do but that Kate o' the Shore would come to this housewith us, where we would take possession, and hold it against all comers. 

"'It is very difficult, ' said Kate's friend, the Dumfries clerk, 'to putany one out of his own house. ' Indeed he did not think that even thevery Court of Session could do it. "

"So during the governor's absence we brought little Louis from Dinant toAntwerp, where we hid him with some friends of Kate's who are FreeTraders, and ran cargoes to the Isle of Man and the Solway shore. Kindthey were, stout bold men and appeared to hold their lives cheapenough--also, for that matter, the lives of those who withstood them. 

"Many of them were Kirkbean men, near kinsfolk of Kate o' the Shore, andothers from Colvend--Hislops, Hendersons and McKerrows, long rooted inthe place. But when we were in mid-passage, we were chased and almosttaken by a schooner that fired cannon and bade us heave to, but theKirkbean men, who had Kate o' the Shore with them, bade our boat carryon, and engaged the pursuer. We could see the flash of their guns a longdistance, and cries came to us mixed with the thunderclap of theschooner's guns. The Colvend men would have turned back to help, butthey had received strict orders to put us on shore, whatever mighthappen, the which they did at Killantringan. 

"After that" (Miss Irma still went on) "I had so much ado to look aftermy brother, being fearful to let him out of my hands lest he should betaken from me, that I only heard the names of a place or two spokenamong them--particularly the Brandy Knowe, a dark hole in a narrowravine, under the roots of a great tree, with a burn across which we hadto be carried. I remember the rushing sound of the water in theblackness of the night, and Louis's voice calling out, as the mentrampled the pebbles, 'Are you there, sister Irma?'

"But long before it was day they had finished stowing their cargo. Wewere again on the march and the men took good care of us, leaving ushere according to their orders with plenty of provisions for aweek--also money, all good unclipped silver pieces and English gold. They bade us not to leave the house on any account, and in case of anysudden danger to light the fire on the tower head!

"'For the present our duty is done, ' said one of them, a kind of chiefor leader who had carried me before him on his own horse, 'but there maybe more and worse yet to do, wherein we of the Free Trade may help youmore than all the power of King George--to whom, however, we are verygood friends, in all that does not concern our business of the privateOver-Seas Traffic'--for so they named their trade of smuggling. "

"I would like much to see this beacon, " I said; "perhaps we may have tolight it. At any rate it is well to be sure that we have all theingredients of the pudding at hand in case of need. "

CHAPTER IX

THE EVE OF ST. JOHN

We went up the narrow stair--that is, Miss Irma and I--because, since Icarried my father's blunderbuss, Agnes Anne would not come, but stoppedhalf-way, where the little Louis lay asleep in his cot-bed. On the topof the tower, and swinging on a kind of iron tripod bolted into thebattlements, we found an iron basket, like that in which sea-coal isburned, but wider in the mesh. Then, in the "winnock cupboard" at theturn of the stair-head, were all the necessaries for a noble blaze--drywood properly cut, tow, tar, and a firkin of spirit, with some rancidbutter in a brown jar. There was even a little kindling box of foreignmake, all complete with flint, steel and tinder lying on a shelf, enclosed in a small bag of felt. 

Whoever had placed these things there was a person of no smallexperience, and left nothing to chance. It was obvious that such abeacon lit on the tower of the ancient house of Marnhoul would be seenfar and near over the country. 

Who should come to our rescue, supposing us to be beset, was not soclear. I did not believe that we could depend on the people of thevillage. They would, if I knew them, cuddle the closer between theirblankets, while as for Constable Jacky, by that time of night he wouldcertainly be in no condition to know his right hand from his left. 

"And the message fixed to the front door with the knife--of which mysister told me, " I suggested to Miss Irma, "what did it threaten?"

For in spite of her obvious reluctance to tell me even necessarythings, I was resolved to make her speak out. She hesitated, but finallyyielded, when I pointed out that we must decide whether it came from afriendly or an unfriendly hand. 

She handed it to me out of the pocket of her dress, the two of usstanding all the while on the top of the tower, the rusty basketwheezing in the wind, and her blown hair whipping my cheek in the sharpbreeze from the north. 

I may say that just at that moment I was pretty content with myself. Ido not deny that I had fancied this maid and that before, or that somefew things that might almost be called tender had passed between me andGerty Greensleeves, chiefly cuffing and pinching of the amicableScottish sort. Only I knew for certain that now I was finally andirrevocably in love--but it was with a star. Or rather, it might just aswell have been, for any hope I had with Miss Irma Maitland, with herancient family and her eyes fairly snapping with pride. What could sheever have to say to the rather stupid son of a village school-master?

But I took the paper, and for an instant Irma's eyes rested on mine withsomething different in them from anything I had ever seen there before. The contemptuous chill was gone. There was even a kind of soft appeal, which, however, she retracted and even seemed to excuse the next moment. 

"Understand, " she said, "it is not for myself that I care. It isfor--for my brother, Sir Louis. "

"But, Miss Irma, do not forget that I----" The words came bravely, buthalted before the enormity of what I was going to say. So I had perforceto alter my formation in face of my dear enemy, and only continuedlamely enough, "I had better see what the letter says. "

"Yes, " she answered shortly, "I suppose that is necessary. "

The letter was written on a sheet of common paper, ruled vertically inred at either side as for a bill of lading. It had simply been foldedonce, not sealed in the ordinary way, but thrust through sharply withthe knife which had pinned it to the wood, traversing both folds. Theknife, which I saw afterwards down-stairs, was a small one, with abroadish blade shaped and pointed like a willow leaf. I had it a goodwhile in my hand, and I can swear that it had been lately used incutting the commonest kind of sailor tobacco. 

The message read in these words exactly, which I copied carefully on mykillivine-tablets--

 "The first danger is for this night, being the eve of Saint John. Admit no one excepting those who bring with them friends you can trust. Fear not to use the signal agreed upon. Help will be near. "

Now this seemed to me to be very straightforward. None but a friend tothe children would speak of the beacon so familiarly, yet sodiscreetly--"the signal agreed upon. " Nor would an enemy advise cautionas to any being admitted to the house. 

But Miss Irma had not passed through so many troubles without acquiringa certain lack of confidence in the fairest pretences. She shook herhead when I ventured to tell her what I thought. She was willing to takemy help, but not my judgment. 

The words, "Admit no one, _excepting those who bring with them friendsyou can trust_, " did not ring true in her ear. And the phrase, "thesignal agreed upon, " might possibly show that while the writer madesure of there being a signal of some kind, he was ignorant of itsnature. 

In face of all this there seemed nothing for it but to wait--doors shut, windows barred, "King George" ready charged, and the stuff for thebeacon knowingly arranged. 

And this last I immediately proceeded to set in order. I had hadconsiderable experience. For during the late French wars we of EdenValley, though the most peaceful people in the world, had often beenturned upside down by reports of famous victories. After each of theseevery one had to illuminate, if it were only with a tallow dip, on thepenalty of having his windows broken by the mob of loyal, butstay-at-home patriots. At the same time, all the boys of Eden Valley hadfull permission to carry off old barrels and other combustibles from thehouses of the zealous, or even to commandeer them without permissionfrom the barns and fences of suspected "black-nebs" to raise nearerheaven the flare of our victorious bonfires. 

With all the ingredients laid ready to my hand, it was exceedinglysimple for me to put together such a brazier as could be seen over halfthe county. Not the least useful of my improvements was the lengtheningof the chain, so that the whole fire-basket could be hoisted to the topof the tripod, and so stand clear of the battlements of the tower, showing over the tree-tops to the very cliffs of Killantringan, anddoubtless far out to sea. 

Last of all, before descending, I covered everything over with a thickmat of tarred cloth, which would keep the fuel dry as tinder even incase of rain, or the dense dews that pearled down out of the clearheavens on these short nights of a northern June. 

It is a strange thing, watching together, and in the case of youngpeople it is apt to make curious things hop up in the heart allunexpectedly. It was so, at least, with myself. As to Miss Irma I cannotsay, and, of course, Agnes Anne does not count, for she sat back in theshelter of a great cupboard, well out of range of "King George, " andwent on with her knitting till she fell asleep. 

However, Miss Irma and I sat together in the jutting window, where, asthe night darkened and the curtains of the clouds drew down to meet thesombre tree-tops, a kind of black despair came over me. Would "KingGeorge" really do any good? Would I prove myself stout and brave whenthe moment came? Would the beacon we had prepared really burn, and, supposing it did, would any one see it, drowned in woods as we were, andfar from all folk, except the peaceable villagers of Eden Valley?

But I had the grace to keep such thoughts to myself, and if they visitedMiss Irma, she did the like. The crying of the owls made the place of astrange eeriness, especially sometimes when a bat or other nightcreature would come and cling a moment under the leaden pent of thewindow. 

Such things as these, together with the strain of the waiting on theunknown, drew us insensibly together--I do not mean Agnes Anne--but justthe two of us who were shut off apart in the window-seat. No, whateverher faults and shortcomings (too many of them recorded in this book), Agnes Anne acted the part of a good sister to me that night, and herpeaceful breathing seemed to wall us off from the world. 

"Duncan?" queried Miss Irma, repeating my name softly as to herself;"you are called Duncan, are you not?"

I nodded. "And you?" I asked, though of course I knew well enough. 

"Irma Sobieski, " she answered. And then, perhaps because everythinginside and out was so still and lonely, she shivered a little, and, without any reason at all, we moved nearer to each other on thewindow-seat--ever so little, but still nearer. 

"You may call me Irma, if you like!" she said, very low, after a longpause. 

Just then something brushed the window, going by with a soft _woof_ offeathers. 

"An owl! A big white one--I saw him!" I said. For indeed the bird hadseemed as large as a goose, and appeared alarming enough to people sostrung as we were, with ears and eyes grown almost intolerably acute inthe effort of watching. 

"Are you not frightened?" she demanded. 

"No, Irma--no, Miss Irma!" I faltered. 

"Well, I am, " she whispered; "I was not before when the mob came, because I had to do everything. But now--I am glad that you are here"(she paused the space of a breath), "you and your sister. "

I was glad, too, though not particularly about Agnes Anne. 

"How old are you, Duncan?" she asked next. 

I gave my age with the usual one year's majoration. It was not a lie, for my birthday had been the day before. Still, it made Irma thoughtful. 

"I did not think you were so much older than your sister, " she saidmusingly; "why, you are older than I am!"

"Of course I am, " I answered, gallantly facing the danger, anddetermined to brave it out. 

On the spot I resolved to have a private interview with Agnes Anne assoon as might be, and, after reminding her of my birthday just past, tell her that in future I was to be referred to as "going on fortwenty"--and that there was no real need to insert the words "going onfor. "

Irma Sobieski considered the subject a while longer, and I could see hereyes turned towards me as if studying me deeply. I wondered what she wasthinking about with a brow so knotted, and I knew instinctively that itmust be something of consequence, because it made her forget the letternailed to the door, and the warning which might veil a threat. She fixedme so long that her eyes seemed to glow out of the pale face which madean oval patch against the darkness of the trees. Irma's face was onlystarlit, but her eyes shone by their own light. 

"Yes, I will trust you, " she said at last. "I saw you the day when themob came. You were ashamed, and would have helped me if you could. Eventhen I liked your face. I did not forget you, and when Agnes Anne spokeof her brother who was afraid of nothing, I was happy that you shouldcome. I wanted you to come. "

The words made my heart leap, but the next moment I knew that I was afool, and might have known better. This was no Gerty Gower, to put herhand on your arm unasked, and let her face say what her lips had not thewords to utter. 

"I want a friend, " she said; "I need a friend--a big brother--nothingelse, remember. If you think I want to be made love to, you aremistaken. And, if you do, there will be an end. You cannot help me thatway. I have no use for what people call love. But I have a mission, andthat mission is my brother, Sir Louis. If you will consent to help me, Ishall love you as I love him, and you--can care about me--as you careabout Agnes Anne!"

Now I did not see what was the use of bringing Agnes Anne into thebusiness. At home she and I were quarrelling about half our time. Butsince it was to be that or nothing, of course I was not such a fool asto choose the nothing. 

All the same, after the promising beginning, I was enormouslydisappointed, and if only it had been lighter, doubtless my chagrinwould have showed on my face. It seemed to me (not knowing) thedeath-blow to all my hopes. I did not then understand that in all theunending and necessarily eternal game of chess, which men and women playone against the other, there is no better opening than this. 

But I was still crassly ignorant, intensely disappointed. I even sworethat I would not have given a brass farthing to be "cared about" by Irmaas I myself did about Agnes Anne. 

Dimly, however, I did feel, even then, that there was a fallacysomewhere. And that, however much human beings with youthful hearts andanswering eyes may pretend they are brother and sister, there issomething deep within them that moves the Previous Question--as we areused to say in the Eden Valley Debating Parliament, which Mr. Oglethorpeand my father have organized on the model of that in the _Gentleman'sMagazine_. 

But Irma, at least, had no such fear. She had, she believed, solved forever a difficult and troublesome question, and, on easy terms, providedherself with a new relative, useful, safe and insured against danger byfire. Perhaps the underwriters of the city would not have taken thelatter risk, but at that moment it seemed a slight one to Irma Sobieski. 

At any rate, to seal the new alliance, in all sisterly freedom she gaveme her hand, and did not appear to notice how long I kept it in thedarkness. This was certainly a considerable set-off against the feelingof loneliness, and, if not quite content, I was at least more so. Iwondered, among other things, if Irma's heart kept knocking in a chokingkind of way against the bottom of her throat. 

At least mine did, and I had never, to my knowledge, felt just so aboutAgnes Anne. Indeed, I don't think I had ever held Agnes Anne's hand solong in my life, except to pick a thorn out of it with a needle, or topoint out how disgracefully grubby it was. 

CHAPTER X

THE CROWBAR IN THE WOOD

We sat so long that I grew hungry. And then forethought was rewarded. For as I well knew, Agnes Anne had much ado to keep the house supplied(and the larder too often bare with all her trying!), I had done sometrifle of providing on my own account. I had a flask of milk in mypouch--the big one in the skirt of the coat that I always wore whentaking a walk in the General's plantations. Cakes, too, and well-risenscones cut and with butter between them, most refreshing. I gave firstof all to Irma, and at the sound of the eating and drinking Agnes Anneawakened and came forward. So I handed her some, but with my footcautioned her not to take too much, because it was certain that shewould by no means do her share of the fighting. 

Both were my sisters. We had agreed upon that. But then some roses smellsweeter than others, though all are called by the same name. 

We had just finished partaking of the food (and great good it did us)when Agnes Anne heard a sound that sent her suddenly back to her cornerwith a face as white as a linen clout. She was always quicker of hearingthan I, but certain it is that after a while I did hear something likethe trampling of horses, and especially, repeated more than once, thesharp jingle which the head of a caparisoned horse makes when, weariedof waiting, it casts it up suddenly. 

_They were coming. _

We said the words, looking at each other, and I suppose each one of usfelt the same--that we were a lot of poor weak children, in our follyfighting against men. At least this is how I took it, and a sickdisdain of self for being no stronger rose in my throat. A moment and ithad passed. For I took "King George" in hand, and bidding Irma see thatlittle Louis was sleeping, I ran up the stairs to the open tower-top. Here I had thought to be alone, but there before me, crouched behind theramparts and looking out upon a dim glade which led down towards thelanding-place at Killantringan, was Agnes Anne. In answer to my questionas to what she was doing there, she answered at first that she could seein the dark better than I, and when I denied this she said that surely Idid not think she was going to be left down there alone, nearest to theassailants if they should force a passage!

One should never encourage one's real sister in the belief that she canever by any chance do right. So I said at once that whether she wasbehind the door or sitting on the weathercock at Marnhoul Tower wouldmake no difference if the people were enemies and once got in. 

"Hush!" she said. "What is that I hear now?"

And from away down the glade came slow and steady blows like those whicha man might make as he lifts his axe and smites into the butt. There wasa sort of reverberation, too, as if the tree were hollow. But that mightonly be the effect of the night, the stillness, and the heavy covert ofgreat woods which lay like a big green blanket all about us, and tossedevery sound back to us like a wall at ball-play. 

"Oh, if we could only see what they were doing--who they are?" Igroaned. "I could go out quite safely by the door in the tower, but thenwho would fire off 'King George'?"

"Toc! Toc!" came the sounds. And then a pause as if the woodsman hadstraightened himself up and was wiping his brow. The timing of thestrokes was very slow. Probably, therefore, the labour itself wasfatiguing. Sometimes, too, the axe fell with a different swing, as ifother hands grasped it, but always with the same dull thudding andirritating slowness. 

Then Agnes Anne made an astonishing proposition. 

"See here, Duncan, " she whispered, "let _me_ out by the little posterndoor at the foot of the tower. Miss Irma can watch behind it to let mein if I come running back, and you stay on the top ready with 'KingGeorge. ' I will find out for you everything you want to know. " And I gotready to say, brother-like, "Agnes Anne, you are a fool--your legs wouldgive way under you in the first hundred yards. "

But somehow she saw (or felt) the speech that was coming, and cut meshort. 

"No, I wouldn't either, " she said hurriedly and quite boldly. "You thinkthat because I hate that great thing there filled with powder and slugs(which even you can't tell when it will go off, or what harm it will dowhen it does) that I am a coward. I am no more frightened than you areyourself--perhaps less. Who was the best tracker when we played atIndians and colonists, I should like to know? Who could go most quietlythrough the wood? Or run the quickest? Just me, Agnes Anne MacAlpine!"

Well, I had to admit it. These things were true. But then they hadlittle to do with courage. This was serious. It was taking one's life inone's hand. 

"And pray what are we doing here and now?" snapped Agnes Anne. "If theyare strong enough to break in one of the doors, or get through one ofthe windows, what can we do? Till we know what is coming against us, weare only going from one blunder to another!"

Now this was most astonishing of our Agnes Anne. So I told her that Ihad known that Irma was plucky, but not her. And she only said, veryshortly, "Better come and see!"

So we went down and told Irma. At first she was all against opening anydoor, even for a moment, on any account. The strength of these defenceswas our only protection. She would rather do anything than endangerthat. But we made her listen to the slow thud of the axe out in thewood, and even as we looked the figure of a man passed across the glade, black against the greyish-green of the grass, on which a thick rise ofdew was catching the starlight. 

This figure wrapped in a sea-cloak, with head bent forward, passingacross the pale glimmer of the glade, sufficed to alter the mind ofIrma. She agreed in a moment, and locking the door of little Louis'sroom, she declared herself willing to keep watch behind the littlepostern door of the tower, ready to let Agnes Anne in again, on theunderstanding that I should be prepared from the open window above todeal with any pursuer. 

I admit that in this I was persuaded against my judgment. For I feltcertain that though Agnes Anne could move with perfect stillness throughwoods, and was a fleet runner, her nerve would certainly fail her whenit came to a real danger. And so great was the sympathy of myimagination that I seemed already to feel the pursuer gaining at everystride, the muscles of my limbs failing beneath me and refusing to carryme farther, just as they do in a dream. 

But Agnes Anne was serious and determined, and in the end had to haveher way. I can see the reason now. She knew exactly what she meant todo, which neither Irma nor I did--though of course both of us farbraver. 

We got the door open quite silently--for it was the one Irma had usedin her few and brief outgates. Then, shrouded in her school cloak ofgrey, and clad, I mean, in but little else, Agnes flitted out as silentas a shadow along a wall. 

But oh, the agony I suffered to think what my father, and still more mygrandmother, would say to me because I had let my sister expose herselfon such an errand. Twenty times I was on the point of sallying forthafter her. Twenty times the sight of the pale face of Irma waiting therestopped me, and the thought that I was the only protector of the twopoor things in that great house. Also after all Agnes Anne had gone ofher own accord. 

All the same I shivered as I kneeled by the window above with the widemuzzle of "King George" pointing down the path which led from the glade. Every moment I expected to hear the air rent with a hideous scream, and"King George" wobbled in my hands as I thought of Agnes Anne lying slainin the glow-worm shining of that abominable glade, with that across herwhite neck for which my conscience and my grandmother would reproach meas long as I (and she) lived. One thing comforted me during that wearywaiting. The hollow thudding as of axe on wood never ceased for amoment. So from that I gathered (and was blithe to believe) that thealarm had not been given, and that wherever Agnes Anne was, she herselfwas still undiscovered. 

My eyes were so glued to that misty glade that presently I got a greatsurprise. "There she is!" cried Irma, looking round the door, and I sawa figure flit out of the dusk of the copse-covert within two yards ofthe postern door. The next moment, without advertisement or the leastfuss, Agnes Anne was within. I heard the sliding of bolts, the hum oftalk, and then the patter of returning feet on the stair. 

CHAPTER XI

AGNES ANNE'S EXPERIENCES AS A SPY

"Well, at first I did not think much about anything" (said Agnes Anne), "except keeping quiet and doing what Duncan did not believe I could do. But I knew the wood. It was not so dark as one would think, and once outof the echo of the house walls I could hear far better. I leaned againsta larch, holding on to the trunk and counting the sticky rosettes on itstrailers to keep me from thinking while I listened. Twice I thought Ihad made out exactly from which direction the sound came, and twice Ifound I was mistaken. But the third time I followed the ditch under thesunk fence till I came to the mound which is shaped like a green hat atthe end next the house. The thudding came from there--I was sure of it. When I could hear men talking, I was (and I am not saying it to putDuncan in the wrong) more glad than afraid. 

"The bottom of the ditch was full of all sorts of underbrush--hazel andbirch roots mostly--growing pretty close as I found when once I gotthere, but rustling horribly while I was getting settled. However, therewas nothing for it, if I wanted to find out anything, but to go on. Soon I went. I was close to the mound now, and could hear the voices. 

"'Quiet there a moment!' said some one, 'I'll swear I heard a noise inthe ditch!'

"And as I crouched something like a blade of a sword or maybe a pikecame high above me stabbing this way and that. Twigs and leaves pattereddown, but I was safe behind the stump of a fallen tree. Presently thesteel thing I had seen glinting struck the dead and sodden wood of thetree-trunk, and snapped with a sharp tang like a fiddle-string--ahayfork it may have been, or one of the long thin swords such as arehung up in the hall. 

"But another and deeper voice--like that of a man somewhat out ofbreath, said gruffly, 'Better get the job done! 'Tis only a fox or arabbit--what else would be out here at this hour?'

"And then, with the noise of spitting on the hands, the sound of theheavy tool began again. It had a ring in it like steel on stone. I thinkthey had been chopping something with a pickaxe and had got through. Fornow the clink was quite different, though that again might be because Iwas nearer. 

"'Have you found the passage? Surely it is long in showing?'

"That was the first voice again, the better educated one, I take it. Hespoke like a gentleman, like the General or even the Doctor himself, though there was much rudeness in the voice of the other when heanswered him. 

"'D'ye think I am breaking my back over this stone-door for fun?'growled the man in panting gasps. 'If I imagined you were any hand at atool, you should have a chance at this one quick enough!'

"'Steady, Dick!' said the first, always in his pleasant tone, 'it can'tbe far away at the farthest now!'

"'Hang it, it may not be there at all. Did you ever hear of a mouldy oldcastle but had its tale about a secret passage? And did anybody ever seeone? Better make the woman speak, I tell you!'

"'Well, ' argued the first suavely, 'it may come to that, of course. Butlet us give this a good trial first. To it, Dick--to it!'

"'Aye, "To it, Dick--to it!" And your own arm up to the elbow in yourblessed pocket, ' he grunted, and I could hear him set to work again withan angry snarl. 'If this doesn't fetch it--well--there's always thewoman!'

"'Aye--but it _will_ do it this time, ' said the man with the soft voice. 'I hear by the clink of the crow that you are nearly through. My uncleused often to tell me about this. The big green mound is the ice-houseof Marnhoul. It was his father that made it, and the passage also toconnect with the cellar. See where it drains sideways into that ditch. That is what makes the green stuff grow so rank about there!'

"Between the noise of the heavy crowbar and the dispute, I ventured toedge a bit closer, so that at last I could make out the two men, andbeyond them something that looked like a figure of a woman lying under acloak. But all was under the dimness of the stars and the twinkling dew, so that I could see nothing clearly. 

"But what I had heard was enough, for in the middle of the worker'sgasping and cursing there came a sudden crash and a jingle. 

"'She's through--I told you so. Uncle Edward was right!' cried the firstand taller man, while the other only stared at the sudden disappearanceof his tool, and stood looking blankly at his own empty hands. 

"'What's to be done now?' said the tall man. 

"'Lever it up with the nose of the pick!' growled the short thick man;'here, you--hang on to that!'

"And then I knew that the sooner Duncan and 'King George' were down inthe cellar of Marnhoul House, the better it would be for our lives. "

 * * * * *

When Agnes Anne finished we sat a moment agape. But very evidently therewas no time to be lost. They would be among us before we knew it, ifonce they got down into the passage. We tried to find out from Irmawhere the cellar was, but she was sunk in terrible thoughts, and for along while she could say nothing but "Lalor Maitland--it is LalorMaitland, come to kill my poor Louis!"

And indeed it was difficult to get her aroused sufficiently to help us. Left to herself I do not doubt that she would have gone up-stairs andfled with the child in her arms in the hope of hiding him in the wood. 

At last we got it out of her that the keys of the cellar were in thegreat cupboard behind the door. She directed us to a double flight ofbroad stairs. Irma had only looked into the cellar when she first came, and had found it rifled, the barrels dry and gaping, full of dust, dry-rot and the smell of decay. 

But she too had heard her father tell of the passage to the ice-house, and how he and his brothers had used it for their escapades when thehouse was locked up and the keys taken to their father's room. 

We went down--I leading with "King George" under my arm and the twogirls following. But on the stairway a sudden terror leaped upon Irma. While we were all down in the cellar, might not Lalor and his companionenter by the front door, or by some unguarded window. So she turned andran back to the little boy's room to defend him with an old pistol I hadfound on the wall and loaded for her with powder and ball. 

Then Agnes Anne and I made our way into the cellar. We had taken withus the lantern, which we had hitherto kept covered, lest by the movingof the light about the house we might be suspected of being on ourguard. 

Hastily I made the tour of the great cellar. The back of the place wasfull of the _débris_ of ancient barrels, some intact, some with gapingsides, many held together with no more than a single hoop. But packedtogether in one corner and occupying a place about one third of thewhole area of the floor was something very different. Tarpaulined, fastened together by ropes, and guarded from damp by planks laid belowthem, were some hundreds of kegs and packages--all, so far as I couldsee, marked with curious signs, and in some cases the names of places. One I remember, "Sallet Ooil--Apuglia, " gave me a sense of such distanceand strangeness, that for a moment I seemed to be travelling in strangecountries and seeing curious sights, rather than going down to risk mylife in Miss Irma's quarrel with men I had never seen. 

It was very evident that there could be but one place where the passageIrma had spoken of (on her father's information) could debouch upon thegreat cellar of Marnhoul. In the angle behind the mass of kegs was anopen space of some yards square, so clean that it looked as if it hadbeen recently swept. 

Beyond this again and quite in the corner, there was a step or twodownwards, as if it were into the bowels of the earth. This was stoppedwith a door of stone accurately arranged and fitted with uncommon skill. And I could see at a glance that it was probably one of the same kindthat the men whom Agnes Anne had seen were engaged in bursting by strokeof crow. I understood more than that. For there was all the winter inEden Valley scarce any other subject of talk than the Free Trade (whichis to say, plainly, smuggling), and concerning the various "ventures" orboats and crews attached to some famous leader engaged in it. 

There was, in fact, no particular moral wrong attaching to the businessin Eden Valley or along the Solway shore high and low--rather a sort ofpiety, since the common folk remembered that the excise had first beeninstituted by that perjured persecutor of the Church, Charles II. Eventhe Doctor, though he denounced the practice from the pulpit inbefitting words, did so chiefly on the ground that the attractions ofFree Trade, its dangers even, carried so many promising young men forthof the parish, and a goodly proportion of them to return no more. 

But for all that, I never heard that he refused to partake of the ankerof Guernsey which his lady found by chance in the milk-house among thecreaming-pans, or by the tombstones of his predecessors in the"Ministers' Corner" of the kirkyard. 

I looked at the means of defence, and hidden among the packages at theback I found two good muskets and one or two very worn ones--yet allbearing the marks of recent attention. So, since the smuggled casksformed a kind of breastwork right round the steps--up from the passagethat was blocked by the stone door--it came into my head that I couldthere set up a kind of battery and run from one to the other of them, firing--that is, if the worst came to the worst and the passage wereforced. So, having plenty of powder and shot and the wrappings of thelace packages making excellent wads, I set about loading all themuskets. I knew that Agnes Anne would be afraid of what I was doing, having had a horror of firearms ever since, as a child, she had seenFlorrie, our old dun cow, shot dead by Boyd Connoway to be our "mart" ofthe year, and salted down for the winter's food in the big beef barrel. Agnes Anne would never be induced to eat a bit of Florrie, though indeedshe was very good and sweet, because forsooth she had been used to milkher and give her handfuls of fresh grass. Since then she had neverforgiven Boyd Connoway, and had never been able to look upon a gun withany complaisance. 

Yet when I told her to stand back and keep away from the powder horn andthe lantern (for it is none of the easiest to charge strange pieces in adark cellar) she said that she would stand by "King George" while I wasat hand--yes, and fire him off, too, if need were. Only I must show herhow to pull the trigger, and also adjust the muzzle so as to bear on thesteps by which the villains would come up!

This I relate to show how (for the time being) Agnes Anne was workedupon. For, as all have seen, she was naturally of a very timorsome andquavering disposition. At any rate I did get the muskets, all five ofthem, loaded, and set in position with their noses cocked over thesquared bulwarks of Mechlin and Vallenceens, of Strasburg yarn, andItalian silver-gilt wire. 

And I can tell you they looked imposing in the light of the lantern, though I was more than a little doubtful about some of them going offwithout blowing themselves up. But it was no time to cavil about smallmatters like that, and I said nothing about this to Agnes Anne, who, forher part, continued to glance along the barrel of "King George" at thestone door with the fixity of my father viewing a star through his largebrass spy-glass. Only Agnes Anne, being unable to keep one eye shut andthe other open, had to hold the lid of the unoccupied organ hard downwith her left hand, as if it too were about to bounce out on us like thetwo men she had seen in the ice-house mound by the edge of the sunkfence. 

We waited a good while with the light of the lamp smothered--all, thatis, but barely sufficient to give air to the flame. And I tell you ourhearts were gigotting rarely. Even Agnes Anne had taken a sudden likingto "King George, " and would not let him go as I proposed to her, nowthat all the other muskets were loaded and ready. 

"You would do better service with the lantern, " I told her, "you couldhold it up to let us see them better. "

But she answered that the lantern could take care of itself. She wasgoing to do some of the real fighting, and so I should not scorn her anymore. But I knew very well that it was only a kind of hysteria and wouldall go off at the dangerous moment. Down she would go on the floor likea bundle of wet rags!

However, to encourage Agnes Anne (as one must do to a girl), I said thatshe was not to fire till she saw the white of their eyes. I rememberedthat my father, in speaking of some battle or other, told how thegeneral had given his men that order, so that they might not miss. Ithought it very fine. 

But Agnes Anne said promptly that she would not wait for the white ofanybody's eyes. She would fire and run for it as soon as she saw theirugly heads coming up out of the ground. This shows how little you can dowith a girl, even if she have occasional fits of bravery. And I do notdeny that Agnes Anne had, though not naturally brave like myself andMiss Irma. 

It was anywhere between five minutes and a century before we heard thefirst stroke of the crow behind the barricade. It sounded dull andpainful, as if inside of one's head. At first we heard no talking suchas Agnes Anne had described at the entrance of the ice-house. 

Also, as they had been a good while on the way; I believe that they hadfound other difficulties which they had not counted upon in traversingthe passage. But they were very near now, for presently, after perhapstwenty strokes we could hear the striker sending out his breath with a"_Har_" of effort each time he drove his crow home. 

It was very dark in the cellar, for we had covered the lamp morecarefully and almost ceased to breathe. But we saw through certainchinks that our assailants had a light of some sort with them. We coulddiscern a faint glimmering all round the upper portion of the stone, andstray rays also pierced at various places elsewhere. 

The long line of light at the top suddenly split and seemed to breakopen in the middle. There came a fierce "_Hech_" from the assailant, andthe point of his crowbar showed, slid, and was as sharply recovered. Next moment it came again. 

"Lever it!" cried the gruff voice, "if you have the backbone of awindlestraw, lever!"

And after a short, hard-breathing struggle, the stone door fell inwards, the aperture was filled with intense light, dazzling, as it appeared tous--and in the midst we saw two fierce and set faces peering into thedark of the cellar. 

CHAPTER XII

THE FIGHT IN THE DARK

One of the peering faces was hot and angry, bearded too, which few thenused to do except such as followed the sea. The other was dark andbeaked like a hawk, so that the shadow of an aquiline nose fell on theman's chin as he held the lantern high above his head. 

At first we could only see them to about the middle of the breast, asfor a little space of time they stood thus, hearkening with their headsthrust forward. 

"Not a ratton--forward there, Dick!" said the man behind, and the manwith the bushy beard advanced, rising as he did so till I could see theties of tarry cord with which he looped up his corduroy small-clothes. 

Now it was high time to act. The game had been played far enough. 

"Hold there--stand!" I cried. "Not a step further or we fire!"

I suppose my voice was echoed and fortified by the hollow vault. Certainly in my own ears it roared like the sound of many waters. At anyrate the men stood, dumb-stricken, the tarry sailorly man a little infront with his mouth open and his yellow dog-teeth gleaming. The other, he who had given the orders, held the lantern higher in the air almostagainst the stones of the vault, so as to see over the barricade ofboxes and barrels. 

"'Tis no more than the----" he was beginning. But he never got thesentence completed. For I took good aim from a rest upon a package ofcloth, and let fly with the best of the muskets--but at the clear loweof the lantern, not at the man's face, as I had at first intended. Somehow, a kind of pity came over me. I did not want to slay such men, who, taken in their iniquity, must go right to their accounts. But thelantern was hit clean, and the glass went jingling to the ground in ahundred fragments. 

I judge also that some of the slugs must have strayed a little, for outof the darkness came curses and the voice of the commander crying onDick to get back--that they were too strong for only two men. But thesailor man advanced till I could hear him actually pulling himself overthe breastwork, gasping (or, as we say, "pech-"ing) with the effort. Then I ran along my battery, and directing the next two of the oldmuskets to the arched roof, I fired them off, bringing down with a crashhandfuls of rough lime and small bits of stone, mingled no doubt withthe ricocheted bullets themselves. At any rate our tarry Galligaskinssoon had enough of it. He turned and made good his retreat towards thestairs up which he had forced his way. 

Then Agnes Anne, who had no chivalrous ideas of sparing anybody who cameassaulting the house of her friends, pulled the trigger of "KingGeorge, " and in a moment all lesser sounds were drowned in a roar loudas of a piece of ordnance. 

The blunderbuss had been trained on the opening with some care, and itwas lucky for the men that they happened to be in retreat, and sopresenting their backs at the time--lucky, also, that only buckshot hadbeen used instead of the bullets and slugs with which the other gunswere loaded. But even so it was enough. She was always careless andscattery, our old "King George. " And from the marks on the lintelsafterwards she had sprinkled her charge pretty freely. Also there weretokens, besides the yells and imprecations of the assailants and thethreats of Galligaskins to come back and do for us, that both of them(as Constable Jacky would have said) "carried off concealed about theirpersons an indictable quantity of my father's good lead drops. "

So far, good. Better than good, indeed--better than we had the leastreason to expect, all owing to my presence of mind, and the fortunatenervousness of Agnes Anne--which, however, in the case under review, Providence directed to a wise and good end. I was for runningimmediately back up the stairs to put the mind of Miss Irma at rest, butAgnes Anne, with that stubbornness which she will often manifestthroughout this history, withstood me. 

"What is it now?" I asked her, somewhat impatiently, I am bound toadmit. For I was all in a sweat to tell Irma about my victory, and how Ifought--and also, of course, about Agnes Anne pulling the trigger of"King George" at random in the dark. 

"This is the matter, " said she, "Irma can wait. But if we do not improveour victory, they will be back again with a whole army of men before wecan wink. "

"Well, " I answered, "I will load the guns first and then go up!"

"Loading the guns is good, " said Agnes Anne. "But before that we mustblind up this hole by which they climbed in. We will give them somethingmore difficult to break through in this narrow passage than a stone doorwhich they can make holes in with a crowbar!"

And I caught at the idea in a moment, wondering how I had not thought ofit myself. But of course, though I did not actually suggest it, AgnesAnne could never have carried it through without me. 

We set about the work immediately. I took the big stone they hadloosened with their tools and tumbled it down the well of the stairway, where, after rebounding once, it stuck at the turn and made a goodfoundation for the barrels, boxes and packages we threw down till thewhole space was choke full, and then I danced on the top and defied thelantern-man and Dick to get through in a week. 

"_Now_ go and tell your Irma!" said Agnes Anne, and I went, while shestopped behind with the lantern and a gun to watch if anything should beattempted against the cellar. 

But I knew right well that no such thing was possible. Nothing short ofsuch a charge of gunpowder as would rive the whole house of Marnhoulasunder would suffice to clear the staircase of the packing I had givenit. So Agnes Anne might just as well have come her ways up-stairs withme. Still, I do not deny that it was thoughtful of her; Agnes Anne meantwell. 

Irma had heard the firing, and I found her with her little brother inher arms, sitting by the window of the parlour overlooking the pilastersof the front door. She held little Louis wrapped in a blanket, and keptboth herself and him out of sight as much as possible behind thecurtain. But she had the horse pistol I had given her on the ledge ofthe sill close at her hand. 

She listened to my tale with a white intensity which was very pitiful. Her eyes seemed so big that they almost overran her face, and there werelittle sparks of light like fairy candles lit at the bottom of each. 

"Lalor Maitland--it was no other man!" she said in an awed voice. "Andnow he is wounded he will be furious. He has many men always in hispower. For he can make or mar a man in the Low Countries, and even badmen will do much for his favour. He will gather to him all who arewaiting. They will be here immediately and burst in the doors. Oh, whatshall we do? My poor, poor Louis!"

"There is the woman whom Agnes Anne saw, " I said. "Can you guess whatshe has to do with it? They said they would try her if they did notsucceed. "

"Why not light the beacon now?" said a voice from the door. It was AgnesAnne, who, being left to herself, the thought had come to her in thedark of the cellar, and had run up to propose it. For me, I was too muchoccupied with Irma, and I am sure that Irma was far too troubledconcerning her brother to think about the beacon. Yet it was the obviousthing to do, and if I had had a moment to spare I would have thought ofit myself. So Agnes Anne had no great credit, after all, when you cometo look at it rightly. 

But the effect of the suggestion on Irma was very remarkable. It was asif the voice of my sister actually raised her from the place where shehad been listlessly sitting with her brother in her arms. She snatchedthe lantern from the hands of Agnes Anne and put little Louis back onhis pillow, bidding him stay there till the time should come for him toget up. 

"Are the bad men all killed, Irma?" he asked. 

"We are going to bring the good people to help us!" she cried. And withthat she ran up-stairs, and I after her, in a great pother of haste. Forthe candle in her hand was the only bit of fire we had, and I did notwant it blown out if I could help it. 

CHAPTER XIII

A WORLD OF INK AND FIRE

The idea of Irma's danger on the open house-top and in the full glare ofthe beacon acted on me like a charm--yet people will say that there isnothing at all in such a relationship as ours. Why, I would not havebeen half as much concerned for Agnes Anne! And as a matter of fact, Ihad not been so anxious down there behind the barrels and packages inthe cellar, when Lalor Maitland and Galligaskins were coming at us. 

Besides which, I knew that Irma, being unused to fire-building, wouldonly waste the excellent provision of kindling, and perhaps do us out ofour beacon altogether. 

So having joined her, it was not long till we had the tarred cloth off, and, through the interstices of the iron bucket, the little blue andyellow flames began chirping and chattering. But as I pulled the basketup to the height of its iron crane, the wind of the night sent the fireoff with a mighty roar. The tops of the nearer trees stood out, everyleaf hard and distinct, but the main body of the woods all aboutMarnhoul remained dark and solid, as if you could have walked upon themwithout once breaking through. 

I stood there watching, with the chain still in my hand, though I hadrun the ring into the hoop on the wall. We had been very clever so far, and I was full of admiration for ourselves. But a bullet whizzing verynear my head, struck the basket with a vicious "scat, " doing no harm, of course, but extending to us an urgent invitation to get out of range, that was not to be disregarded. 

Irma was close beside me, following with her eyes the mounting crackleof the beacon, the sudden jetting of the tall pale flames that ranupward into the velvet sky of night. For from a pale and haunting greythe firmament had all of a sudden turned black and solid. Middle shadeshad been ruled out instantly. It was a world of ink and fire. 

But that sharp dash of danger cooled admiration in my heart. I caughtIrma by the shoulders and, roughly enough, pulled her down beside me onthe platform behind the stone ramparts. For a moment I think she wasindignant, but the next thankful. For half-a-dozen balls clicked andwhizzed about, passing through the square gaps that went all round thetower, as if the wall had had a couple of teeth knocked out at regulardistances every here and there. 

Very cautiously we crawled to the stair-head, leaving our invisibleenemies cracking away at the fire basket, knocking little cascades ofsparks out of it, indeed, but doing no harm. For the beacon wasthoroughly well alight, and the chain good and strong. 

As we descended the ladder I went first so as to help Irma. She was alittle upset, as indeed she might well be. For it was quite evident thatthe number of our assailants had singularly increased, and we did not inthe least know whether our signal would do us any good or not. 

"It may waken Boyd Connoway, " I thought, "but that will be all. He willcome sneaking through the wood to see what is the matter so as to tellabout it, but he never used a weapon more deadly than a jack-knife witha deer-horn handle. "

As Irma's foot slipped on the bottom rung of the ladder, I caught her asshe swayed, and for a moment in that dark place I held her in my handslike a posy, fresh and sweet smelling, but sacred as if in church. Shesaid, without drawing herself away, at least not for a moment longerthan she need, "Duncan, you saved my life!"

I had it on my tongue tip to reply, "And my own at the same time, for Icould not live without you!"

When one is young it is natural to talk like that, but my old awe ofMiss Irma preserved me from the mistake. It was too early days for that, and I only said, "I am glad!" And when we got down there was Agnes Anne, with her finger on her lip, watching little Sir Louis sleeping. Shewhispered to me to know why we had made such a noise firing on the topof the tower. 

"It isn't like down in the cellar, " she said, "you came as near as youcan think to wakening him!"

I was so astonished that I could not even tell Agnes Anne that she wouldsoon find it was not we who had done the firing. The most part of theguns were in the cellar any way, as she might have remembered. Besides, what was the use? She had caught that fell disease, which isbaby-worship. 

Instead, I posted myself in the window, my body hidden in the red repcurtain, and only my eyes showing through a slit I made with my knife asI peered along the barrel of "King George. " I had resolved that with anarm of such short "carry, " I would not fire till I had them rightbeneath the porch, or at least coming up the steps of the mansion. 

It was in my mind that there would be a brutal rush at the door, perhaps with pickaxes, perhaps with one of the swinging battering-rams Ihad read of in the Roman wars, that do such wondrous things when cradledin the joined hands of many men. 

But in this I was much mistaken. The assailants were indeed rascals ofthe same tarry, broad-breeched, stringfasted breed as Galligaskins ofthe cellar door. But Galligaskins himself I saw not. From which I judgethat Agnes Anne had sorted him to rights with the contents of "KingGeorge, " laid ready for her pointing at the top of the steps by which anenemy must of necessity appear. 

But they had a far more powerful weapon than any battering-ram. We sawthem moving about in the faint light of a moon in her last quarter justrisen above the hills--a true moon of the small hours, ruddy as a foxand of an aspect exceedingly weariful. 

Presently there came toward the door two men with a strange and shroudedfigure walking painfully between them, as if upon hobbled feet. I couldsee that one of the men was the tall man of the cave, he in whose hand Ihad smashed the lantern. I knew him by a wrist that was freshlybandaged, and also by his voice when he spoke. The other who accompaniedhim was a sailor of some superior grade, a boatswain or such, dressed ingood sea cloth, and with a kind of glazed cocked hat upon his head. 

It was a very weird business--the veiled woman, the dim skarrow of thebeacon, the foxy old moon sifting an unearthly light between thebranches, everything fallen silent, and our assailants each keepingcarefully to the back of a tree to be out of reach of our muskets. 

They came on, the two men leading the woman by the arms till they wereout of the flicker of the flames both outside and under the shadow ofthe house. 

Then the tall man, whom in my heart I made sure to be Lalor Maitland, asIrma said, held up his bandaged hand as a man does when he is about tomake a speech and craves attention. 

"I have been ill-received, " he cried, "in this the house of myfathers----"

"Because you have striven to enter it as a thief and a robber!" criedIrma's voice, close beside me. She had passed behind me, slid the boltof the window, and was now leaning out, resting upon her elbows andlooking down at the men below. She was apparently quite fearless. Theappearance of her cousin so near seemed somehow to sting her. 

"Your brother and yourself are both under my care--I suppose, Mademoiselle Irma, you will not deny that?"

"We were, " Irma answered, in a clear voice; "but then, Lalor Maitland, Iheard what the fate was you were so kindly destining for me after havingkilled my brother----"

"And I know who put that foolishness into your head, " said LalorMaitland; "she regrets it at this moment, and has now come of her ownwill to tell you she lied!"

And with a jerk he loosened the apron which, as I now saw, had beenwrapped about the head of the swathed figure. I shall never forget theface of the woman as I saw it then. The uncertain flicker of the flamesand sparks from our beacon (which, though itself invisible, darkened andlightened like sheet lightning), the dismal umbery glimmer of the waningmoon, and the pale approach of day over the mountains to the east, madethe face appear almost ghastly. But I was quite unprepared for theeffect which the sight produced upon Irma. 

"Kate, " she cried, "Kate of the Shore!"

The woman did not reply, though there was an obvious effort to speak--astraining of the neck muscles and a painful rolling of the eyes. 

"Yes, " said Lalor calmly, as if he were exhibiting a curiosity, "this isyour friend to whom you owe your escape. She was doubtless to havereceived a reward, and in any case we shall give her a fine one. But ifyou will return to your protector, and come with me immediately on boardthe good ship _Golden Hind_, which in some considerable danger, isbeating off and on between the heads of Killantringen--then I promiseyou, you will save the life of our friend Kate here. If not----" (Hewaved his hand expressively. )

"You dare not kill her, " cried Irma; "in an hour the country will be up, and you will be hunted like dogs. "

"Oh, it is not I, " said Lalor calmly, "I do not love the shedding ofblood, and that is why I am here now. But consider those stout fellowsyonder. They are restive at having to wait for their pay, and the lossof their captain, wounded in aiding me in obtaining my rights in a quietand peaceable manner, has by no means soothed them. I advise you, Mistress Irma, to bring down the boy and let us get on board while thereis yet time. No one in the house shall be harmed. But listen toKate--Kate of the Shore. She will speak to you better than I! But firstwe must perform a little surgical operation!"

And with that he whipped out a bandanna handkerchief, which had beenknotted and thrust into her mouth in the manner of a gag. 

"Now then, " he said, "put a pistol to her head, Evans! Now, Kate, youhave told many lies about your master, the late Governor of the fortressof Dinant. Speak the truth for once in a way. For if you do not tellthese foolish children that they have nothing to fear--nay more, if youcannot persuade them to quit their foolish conduct and return to theirrightful duty and obedience, it will be my painful duty to ask Evansthere, who does not love you as I do, to--well, you know what willhappen when that pistol goes off!"

But even in such straits Kate of the Shore was not to be frightened. 

"You hear me, Miss Irma, " she said, "I know this bad man. He is onlyseeking to betray you as he betrayed me. Defend your castle. Open not awindow--keep the doors barred. They cannot take the place in the time, for they have the tide to think of. "

"I expected this, " said Lalor, with a vaguely pensive air, "it has everbeen my lot to be calumniated, my motives suspected. But I have indeeddeserved other things--especially from you, Irma, whom (though yoursenior in years, and during the minority of my ward Sir Louis, the headof the house), I have always treated with affectionate and, perhaps, toorespectful deference!"

"Miss Irma, " cried Kate of the Shore, "take care of that man. He has apistol ready. I can see the hilt of it in his pocket. You he will notharm if he can help it, but if that be your brother whom I see at thefold of the window-hanging, bid him stand back for his life. "

"Drop your pistol, Evans, " commanded Lalor Maitland, "this part of theplay is played out. She will not speak, or rather what she says will dous no good. Women are thrawn contrary things at the best, Evans, as Idare say you have noticed in your Principality of Wales. But take heed, you and your precious defenders, I warn you that in an hour the house ofMarnhoul shall be flaming over your heads with a torch that shall bringout, not your pitiful burghers from their rabbit-holes, but also the menof half a county. 

"Hear me, " he raised his voice suddenly to a strident shout, "hear meall you within the house. Give up the girl and the child to their legalprotectors, and no harm shall befall either life or property. We shallbe on shipboard in half-an-hour. I shall see to it that every man withinthe castle is rewarded from the Maitland money that is safe beyond seas, out of the reach of King George! Of that, at least I made sure, servingtwice seven years for it in the service of a hard master. I offer ahundred pounds apiece to whoever will deliver the boy and the maid!"

This was a speech which pleased me much, for it showed that from thestoutness of our defence, and the many guns which had been shot off, Lalor was under the impression that the house was garrisoned by a properforce of men--when in truth there was only Miss Irma and me--that is, not counting Agnes Anne. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE WHITE FREE TRADERS

But the country was by no means so craven as Lalor supposed. There werebold hearts and ready saddles still in Galloway. The signal from the topof the beacon tower of Marnhoul was seen and understood in half-a-dozenparishes. 

Not that the young fellows who saw the flame connected it with the twochildren who had taken refuge in the old place of the Maitlands. Infact, most knew nothing about their existence. But their alacrity wasconnected with quite another matter--the great cargo of dutiable andundutied goods stored away in the cellars of Marnhoul!

There was stirring, therefore, in remote farms, rattling on doors, hurried scrambling up and down stable ladders. Young men on theoutskirts of villages might have been seen stealing through gardens, stumbling among cabbage-stocks and gooseberry bushes as they made theirway by the uncertain flicker of our far-away beacon to the place ofrendezvous. 

Herds rising early to "look the hill" gave one glance at the red danceof the flames over the tree-tops of Marnhoul great wood, and anon ran towaken their masters. 

For in that country every farmer--aye, and most of the lairds, includinga majority of the Justices of the Peace--had a share in the "venture. "Sometimes the value of the cargo brought in by a single run would befrom fifty to seventy thousand pounds. All this great amount of goodshad to be scattered and concealed locally, before it was carried toGlasgow and Edinburgh over the wildest and most unfrequented tracks. 

The officers of the revenue, few and ill-supported, could do little. Most of them, indeed, accepted the quiet greasing of the palm, andcalled off their men to some distant place during the night of a bigrun. But even when on the spot and under arms, a cavalcade of a coupleof hundred men could laugh at half-a-dozen preventives, and pass bydefiantly waving their hands and clinking the chains which held the kegsupon their horses. The bolder cried out invitations to come and drink, and the good-will of the leaders of the Land Free Traders was evenpushed so far that, if a Surveyor of Customs showed himself pleasantlyamenable, a dozen or more small kegs of second-rate Hollands would betipped before his eyes into a convenient bog, so that, if it pleasedhim, he could pose before his superiors as having effected an importantcapture. 

The report which he was wont to edit on these occasions will oftencompare with the higher fiction--as followeth:--

 "Supervisor Henry Baskett, in charge of the Lower Solway district, reports as follows under date June 30th: Found a strong body of smugglers marching between the wild mountains called Ben Tuthor and Blew Hills. They were of the number of three hundred, all well mounted and armed, desperate men, evidently not of this district, but, from their talk and accoutrement, from the Upper Ward of Lanerickshire. Followed them carefully to note their dispositions and discover a favourable place for attack. I had only four men with me, whereof one a boy, being all the force under my command. Nevertheless, at a place called the Corse of Slakes I advanced boldly and summoned them, in the King's name and at the peril of their lives, to surrender. 

 "Whereat they turned their guns upon us, each man standing behind his horse and having his face hidden in a napkin lest he should be known. But we four and the boy advanced firmly and with such resolution that the band of three hundred law-breakers broke up incontinent, and taking to flight this way and that through the heather, left us under the necessity of pursuing. We pursued that band which promised the best taking, and I am glad to intimate to your Excellencies, His Majesty's Commissioners, that we were successful in putting the said Free Traders to flight, and capturing twenty-five casks best Hollands, six loads of Vallenceen, etc. , etc. , as per schedule appended to be accounted for by me as your lordship's commissioners shall direct. In the hope that this will be noted to our credit on the table of advancement (and in this connect I may mention the names of the three men, Thomas Coke, Edward Loval, Timothy Pierce, and the boy Joseph McDougal, whom I recommend as having done their duty in the face of peril), I have the honour to sign myself, "My Lords and Hon. Commissioners of H. M. Excise, "Your obedient, humble servant, "Henry Baskett (Supervisor). "

The other view of this transaction I find more concisely expressed in amemorandum written in an old note-book belonging to my Uncle Tom. 

"Baskett held out for forty best French, but we fobbed him off withtwenty-five low-grade Rotterdam--the casks being leaky, and some packsof goods too long left at Rathan Cave, which is at the back of theisle, and counted scarce worth the carrying farther. The night fine andbusiness most successful--thanks to an ever-watchful Providence. "

The reader of these family memoirs will perhaps agree with me that, ifany one could do without an ever-watchful Providence troubling itselfabout him, that man was my Uncle Tom. 

While, therefore, we in the House of Marnhoul were in the wildestalarm--at least Agnes Anne was--forces which could not possibly bewithstood were mustering to hasten to our assistance. The tarry jacketsof the _Golden Hind_ would doubtless have rushed the front door with ahurrah, as readily as they would have boarded a prize, but LalorMaitland ordered them to bring wood and other inflammable material. Atleast, so I judge, for presently I could see them running to and froabout the edges of the wood. They had now learned the knack of keepingin shelter most of the way. But I did not feel really afraid till I sawsome of them with kegs of liquor making towards the porch. There theystove them in, and proceeded to empty the contents on the dry branchesand fuel they had collected. The matter was now beginning to look reallyserious. To make things worse, they were evidently digging out thebottom of our cellar-stair barricade, and if they succeeded in that theywould turn our position and take us in the rear. 

So I sent down Agnes Anne (she not being good for much else) to thecellar to see how things were looking there, bidding her to be carefulof the lantern, and to bring back as many of the five muskets as shecould carry, so that I might keep the fellows in check above. 

Agnes Anne came flying back with the worst kind of news. A great flameof fire was springing up out of the well of the staircase into which wehad tumbled the barrels and boxes. It threatened, she said, to blow ussky-high, if there were any barrels of powder among the goods left bythe smugglers. 

At any rate, the flame was rapidly spreading to the other packages whichhad formed our breastwork of defence, and was now like to become ourruin. 

For, once fairly caught, the spirit would flame high as the rigging ofMarnhoul, and we should all be burnt alive, which was most likely whatLolar Maitland meant by his parting threatening. 

"And it is more than likely, " Agnes Anne added, "that some of thebarrels burst as we threw them down the stairs, and so, with the liquorflowing among their feet, the assailants got the idea of thus burning usout. "

At all events something had to be done, and that instantly. So I hadperforce to leave Agnes Anne in charge of "King George" again, cautioning her not to pull the trigger till she should see the rascalsactually bending to set fire to the pile underneath the porch of thefront door. I also told her not to be frightened, and she promised notto. 

Then I went down to the cellar. The heat there was terrible, and I donot wonder that Agnes Anne came running back to me. A pillar of blueflame was rising straight up against the arched roof of the cellar. Icould hear the cries of the men working below in the passage. 

"Hook it away--give her air--she will burn ever the brisker and smokethe land-lubbers out!"

Some few of the boxes in the front tier were already on fire, and stillmore were smouldering, but the straightness of the vent up which theflame was coming, together with the closeness and stillness of thevault, made the flame mount straight up as in a chimney. I thereforedivined rather than saw what remained for me to do. I leaped over andbegan, at the risk of a severe scorching, to throw back all the boxesand packages which were in danger. It was lucky for me that thesmugglers had piled them pretty high, and so by drawing one or two fromnear the foundation, I was fortunate enough to overset the most part ofit in the outward direction. 

But the fierceness of the flame was beginning to tell upon thebuilding-stone of Marnhoul, which was of a friable nature--at least thatwith which the vault was arched. 

Luckily some old tools had been left in the corner, and it struck methat if I could dig up enough of the earthen floor or topple over themound of earth which had been piled up at the making of the undergroundpassage, the fire must go out for lack of air; or, better still, wouldbe turned in the faces of those who were digging away the barrels andboxes from the bottom of the stair-well. 

This, after many attempts and some very painful burns, I succeeded indoing. The first shovelfuls did not seem to produce much effect. So Iset to work on the large heap of hardened earth in the corner, and waslucky enough to be able to tumble it bodily upon the top of the columnof fire. Then suddenly the terrible column of blue flame went out, justas does a Christmas pudding when it is blown upon. And for the samereason. Both were made of the flames of the French spirit called cognac, or brandy. 

Then I did not mind about my burns, I can assure you. But almostgleefully I went on heaping mould and dirt upon the boxes in the well ofthe staircase, stamping down the earth at the top till it was almostlike the hard-beaten floor of the cellar itself. I left not a crevicefor the least small flame to come up through. 

Then I bethought me of what might be going on above, and the flush of mytriumph cooled quickly. For I thought that there was only Agnes Anne, and who knows what weakness she may not have committed. She would neverhave thought, for instance, of such a thing as covering in the flamewith earth to put it out. To tell the truth, I did think verymasterfully of myself at that moment, and perhaps with some cause, fornot one in a thousand would have had the "engine" to do as I had done. 

When I got to the top of the stairs, I heard cries from without, whichhad been smothered by the deepness of the dungeon in which I had beenlabouring to put out the fire. For a moment I thought that by thefailure of Agnes Anne to fire off "King George" at the proper moment, the door had been forced and we utterly lost. Which seemed the harder tobe borne, that I had just saved all our lives in a way so original andhappy. 

But I was wrong. The shouting came not from the wicked crew of theprivateersman, but from the shouting of a vast number of people, most ofthem mounted on farm and country horses, with some of finer limb andbetter blood, managed by young fellows having the air of laird's sons orothers of some position. None of these had his face bare. But in placeof the black highwayman masks of the followers of Galligaskins, thesewore only a strip of white kerchief across the face, though, as I couldsee, more for the form of the thing than from any real apprehension ofdanger. 

Indeed, in the very forefront of the cavalcade I saw our own two carthorses, Dapple and Dimple, and the lighter mare Bess, which mygrandfather used for riding to and fro upon his milling business. I hadnot the least doubt that my three uncles were bestriding them, though Inever knew that there were any arms about the house except the oldfowling-piece belonging to grandfather, with which on moonlight nightshe killed the hares that came to nibble the plants in his cabbagegarden. 

Soon the sailors and their abettors were fleeing in every direction. But, what took me very much by surprise, there was no firing or cuttingdown, though there was a good deal of smiting with the flat of thesword. And at the entrance of the ice-mound I saw a great many veryscurvy fellows come trickling out, all burned and scorched, to run thegauntlet of a row of men on foot, who drubbed them soundly with cudgelsbefore letting them go. 

Seeing this, I opened the window and shouted with all my might. 

"Apprehend them! They are villains and thieves. They have broken intothis house and tried to kill us all, besides setting fire to the cellarand everything in it!"

The men without, both those on foot and those on horseback, had beencalm till they heard this, and then, lo! each cavalier dismounted andall came running to the door, calling on us to open instantly. 

"Not to you any more than to the others!" I cried. For, indeed, I sawnot any good reason. It appeared to me, since there was no realfighting, that the two parties must be in alliance, or, at least, havean understanding between them. 

But Agnes Anne called out, "Nonsense, I see Uncle Aleck and UncleEbenezer. I am going to open the door to them, whatever you say!"

So all in a minute the house of Marnhoul, long so desolate and silent, wherein such deeds of valour and strategy had recently been wrought, grew populous with a multitude all eager to win down to the cellar. ButAgnes Anne brought up my three uncles (and another who was with them)and bade them watch carefully over the safety of Louis and Miss Irma. (For so I must again call her now that she had, as it were, come to herown again. )

As for me they carried me down with them, to tell all about the attemptto burn the goods in the cellar. And angry men they were when they sawso many webs of fine cloth, so many bolts of Flanders lace, so many kegsof rare brandy damaged and as good as lost. But when they understoodthat, but for my address and quickness, all would have been lost tothem, they made me many compliments. Also an old man with asilver-hilted sword, who carried himself like some great gentleman, bademe tell him my _name_, and wrote it down in his note-book, saying that Iwas of too good a head and quick a hand to waste on a dominie. 

And, indeed, I was of that mind (or something very much like it) myself. An old haunted house like Marnhoul to defend, a young maid of highfamily to rescue (and adopt you as her brother for a reward) did somehowtake the edge off teaching the Rule of Three and explaining the _DeBello Gallico_ to imps who cannot understand, and would not if theycould. 

PART II

CHAPTER XV

MY GRANDMOTHER SPEAKS HER MIND

"There is no use talking" (said my grandmother, as she always did whenshe was going to do a great deal of it), "no, listen to me, there is nouse talking! These two young things need a home, and if _we_ don't giveit to them, who will? Stay longer in that great gaol of a house, worsethan any barn, they shall not--exposed day and night to a traffic of searascals, thieves and murderers, _they shall not_----"

"What I want to know is who is to keep them, and what the safer theywill be here?"

It was the voice of my Aunt Jen which interrupted. None else would havedared--save mayhap my grandfather, who, however, only smiled and wassilent. 

"Ne'er you mind that, Janet, " cried her mother, "what goes out of ourbasket and store will never be missed. And father says the same, be sureof that!"

My grandfather did say the same, if to smile quietly and approvingly isto speak. At any rate, in a matter which did not concern him deeply, heknew a wiser way than to contradict Mistress Mary Lyon. She was quitecapable of keeping him awake two-thirds of the night arguing it out, without the faintest hope of altering the final result. 

"The poor things, " mourned my grandmother, "they shall come here andwelcome--that is, till better be. Of course, they might be more grandlylodged by the rich and the great--gentlefolk in their own station. But, first of all, they do not offer, and if they did, they are mostlywithout experience. To bring up children, trust an old hen who hasclucked over a brood of her own!"

"Safer, too, here, " approved my grandfather, nodding his head; "thetarry breeches will think twice before paying Heathknowes a visit--withthe lads about and the gate shut, and maybe the old dog not quitetoothless yet!"

This, indeed, was the very heart of the matter. Irma and Sir Louis wouldbe far safer at the house of one William Lyon, guarded by his stoutsons, by his influence over the wildest spirits of the community, in ahouse garrisoned by a horde of sleepless sheep-dogs, set in a defensiblesquare of office-houses, barns, byres, stables, granaries, cart-sheds, peat-sheds and the rest. 

"And when the great arrive to call, " said Aunt Jen, with sour insight, "you, mother, will stop the churning just when the butter is coming toput on your black lace cap and apron. You will receive the lady of themanse, and Mrs. General Johnstone, and----"

"And if I do, Jen, " cried her mother, "what is that to you?"

"Because I have enough to do as it is, " snapped Jen, "without yourbutter-making when you are playing the lady down the house!"

Grandmother's black eyes crackled fire. She turned threateningly to herdaughter. 

"By my saul, Lady Lyon, " she cried, "there is a stick in yon corner thatye ken, and if you are insolent to your mother I will thrash youyet--woman-grown as ye are. Ye take upon yourself to say that which noneof your brothers dare set their tongue to!"

And indeed there is little doubt but that Mary Lyon would have kept herword. So far as speech was concerned, my Aunt Jen was silenced. But shewas a creature faithful to her prejudices, and could express by hersilence and air of injured rectitude more than one less gifted couldhave put into a parliamentary oration. 

Her very heels on the stone floor of the wide kitchen at Heathknowes, where all the business of the house was transacted, fell with littleraps of defiance, curt and dry. Her nose in the air told of contemptlouder than any words. She laid down the porridge spurtle like a queenabdicating her sceptre. She tabled the plates like so many protests, signed and witnessed. She swept about the house with the glacial chillwhich an iceberg spreads about it in temperate seas. Her displeasuremade winter of our content--of all, that is, except Mary Lyon's. She atleast went about her tasks with her usual humming alacrity, turning workover her shoulder as easy as apple-peeling. 

Being naturally lazy myself (except as to the reading of books), I tooka great pleasure in watching grandmother. Aunt Jen would order you toget some work if she saw you doing nothing--malingering, she calledit--yes, and find it for you too, that is, if Mary Lyon were not in thehouse to tell her to mind her own business. 

But you might lie round among grandmother's feet for days, and, exceptfor a stray cuff in passing if she actually walked into you--a cuffgiven in the purest spirit of love and good-will, and merely as awarning of the worse thing that might happen to you if you made herspill the dinner "sowens"--you might spend your days in reading anythingfrom the _Arabian Nights_ in Uncle Eben's old tattered edition to themighty _Josephus_, all complete with plans and plates--over which onSundays my grandfather was wont to compose himself augustly to sleep. 

Well, Miss Irma and Sir Louis came to my grandmother's house atHeathknowes. Yes, this is the correct version. The house of Heathknoweswas Mary Lyon's. The mill in the wood, the farm, the hillpastures--these might be my grandfather's, also the horses and wagonsgenerally, but his power--his "say" over anything, stopped at thethreshold of the house, of the byre of cows, at the step of the rumblinglittle light cart in which he was privileged to drive my grandmother tochurch and market. In these places and relations he became, instead ofthe unquestioned master, only as one of ourselves, except that he wasneither cuffed nor threatened with "the stick in the corner. " All thesame, this immunity did not do him much good, for many a soundtongue-lashing did he receive for his sins and shortcomings--indeed, farmore so than all the rest of us. For with us, my grandmother had a shortand easy way. 

"I have not time to be arguing with the likes of you!" she would cry. And upon the word a sound cuff removed us out of her path, and before wehad stopped tingling Mary Lyon had plunged into the next object in hand, satisfied that she had successfully wrestled with at least one problem. But with grandfather it was different. He had to be convinced--ifpossible, convicted--in any case overborne. 

To accomplish this Mary Lyon would put forth all her powers, in spite ofher husband's smiles--or perhaps a good deal because of them. Upon herexcellent authority, he was stated to be the most irritating man betwixtthe Brigend of Dumfries and the Braes of Glenap. 

"Oh, man, say what you have to say, " she would cry, when reduced toextremities by the obvious unfairness of his silent mode of controversy, "but don't sit there girning like a self-satisfied monkey!"

"Mother!" exclaimed Aunt Jen, horrified. For she cherished a secrettenderness for my grandfather, perhaps because their natures were sodifferent, "How can you speak so to our father?"

"Wait till you get a man of your ain, Janet, " my grandmother wouldretort, "then you will have new light as to how it is permitted for awoman to speak. "

With this retort Aunt Jen was well acquainted, and had to be thankfulthat it was carried no further, as it often was in the case of anycriticisms as to the management of children. In this case Aunt Jen wasusually invited not to meddle, on the forcible plea that what a score ofold maids knew about rearing a family could be put into a nutshellwithout risk of overcrowding. 

The room at Heathknowes that was got ready for the children was the oneoff the parlour--"down-the-house, " as it was called. Here was a littlebed for Miss Irma, her washstand, a chest of drawers, a brush and combwhich Aunt Jen had "found, " producing them from under her apron with anexceedingly guilty air, while continuing to brush the floor with an airof protest against the whole proceeding. 

From the school-house my father sent a hanging bookcase--at least thething was done upon my suggestion. Agnes Anne carried it and Uncle Ebienailed it up. At any rate, it was got into place among us. The cot ofthe child Louis had been arranged in the parlour itself, but at thefirst glance Miss Irma turned pale, and I saw it would not do. 

"I have always been accustomed to have him with me, " she said; "it isvery kind of you to give us such nice rooms--but--would you mind lettinghim sleep where I can see him?"

It was Aunt Jen who did the moving without a word, and that, too, withthe severe lines of disapproval very nearly completely ruled off herface. It was, in fact, better that they should be together. For whilethe parlour looked by two small-paned windows across the wide courtyard, the single casement of the little bedroom opened on the orchard cornerwhich my grandfather had planted in the first years of his takingpossession. 

The house of Heathknowes was of the usual type of large Galloway farm--aplace with some history, the house ancient and roomy, the office housesbuilt massively in a square, as much for defence as for convenience. Youentered by a heavy gate and you closed it carefully after you. Fromwithout the walls of the quadrangle frowned upon you unbroken from theireminence, massy and threatening as a fortress. The walls were loopholedfor musketry, and, in places, still bore marks of the long slots throughwhich the archers had shot their bolts and clothyard shafts in the daysbefore powder and ball. 

Except the single gate, you could go round and round without finding anyplace by which an enemy might enter. The outside appearance wascertainly grim, unpromising, inhospitable, and so it seemed to Miss Irmaand Sir Louis as they drove up the loaning from the ford. 

But within, everything was different. What a smiling welcome theyreceived, my grandfather standing with his hat off, my grandmother withthe tears in her motherly vehement eyes, gathering the two wanderersdefiantly to her breast as if daring all the world to come on. Behind alittle (but not much) was Aunt Jen, asserting her position and rights inthe house. She did not seem to see Miss Irma, but to make up, she nevertook her eyes off the little boy for a moment. 

Then my uncles were ranged awkwardly, their hands lonesome for the gripof the plough, the driving reins, or the water-lever at the mill in thewoods. 

Uncle Rob, our dandy, had changed his coat and put on a new neckcloth, an act which, as all who know a Scots farm town will understand, costhim a multitude of flouts, jeers and upcasting from his peers. 

I was also there, not indeed to welcome them, but because I hadaccompanied the party from the house of Marnhoul. The White Free Tradershad established a post there to watch over one of their best"hidie-holes, " even though they had removed all their goods inexpectation of the visit of a troop of horse under Captain Sinclair, known to have been ordered up from Dumfries to aid the excisesupervisor, as soon as that zealous officer was sure that, the steedbeing stolen, it was time to lock the stable door. 

But when the dragoons came, there was little for them to do. NedHenderson, the General Surveyor of the Customs and head of the districtin all matters of excise, was far too careful a man to allow more toappear than was "good for the country. " He knew that there was hardly alaird, and not a single farmer or man of substance who had not hisfinger in the pie. Indeed, after the crushing national disaster ofDarien, this was the direction which speculation naturally took inScotland for more than a hundred years. 

In due time, then, the dragoons arrived, greatly to the interest of allthe serving lasses--and some others. There was, of course, a vast dealof riding about, cantering along by-ways, calling upon this or thatinnocent to account for his presence at the back of a dyke or behind awhin-bush--which he usually did in the most natural and convincingmanner possible. 

The woods were searched--the covers drawn. Many birds were disturbed, but of the crew of the _Golden Hind_, or the land smugglers by whosearrival the capture and burning of Marnhoul had been prevented, no tracewas found. Even Kate of the Shore's present address was known to butfew, and to these quite privately. There was no doubt of herfaithfulness. That had been proven, but she knew too much. There werequestions which, even unanswered, might raise others. 

Several young men, of good family and connections, thought it prudent tovisit friends at a distance, and at least one was never seen in thecountry more. 

One of his Majesty's frigates had been sent for to watch the Solwayports, much to the disgust of her officers. For not only had they beenexpected at the Portsmouth summer station by numerous pretty ladies, butthe navigation between Barnhourie and the Back Shore of Leswalt was asfull of danger as it was entirely without glory. If they were unlucky, they might be cashiered for losing the ship. If lucky, the revenue menwould claim the captured cargo. If they secured the malefactors theywould sow desolation in a score of respectable families, with thedaughters of which they had danced at Kirkcudbright a week ago. 

In Galloway, though a considerable amount of recklessness mingled withthe traffic, and there were occasional roughnesses on the high seas andabout the ports and anchorages of Holland and the Isle of Man, there wasnever any of the cruelty associated with smuggling along the south coastof England. The smugglers of Sussex killed the informer Chater withblows of their whips. A yet darker tragedy enacted farther west, brought half-a-dozen to a well-deserved scaffold. But, save for thelosses in fair fight occasioned by the intemperate zeal of some newbroom of a supervisor anxious for distinction, the history of Gallowaysmuggling had, up to that time, never been stained with serious crime. 

Meantime the two Maitlands, Sir Louis and Miss Irma, were safely housedwithin the defenced place of Heathknowes, guarded by William Lyon andhis three stout sons, and mothered by all the hidden tenderness of mygrandmother's big, imperious, volcanic heart. 

Only my Aunt Jen watched jealously with a half-satisfied air and tookcounsel with herself as to what the end of these things might be. 

CHAPTER XVI

CASTLE CONNOWAY

Meanwhile Boyd Connoway was in straits. Torn between two emotions, hewas pleased for once to have found a means of earning his living andthat of his family--especially the latter. For his own living was likethat of the crows, "got round the country somewhere!" But with thelightest and most kindly heart in the world, Boyd Connoway found himselfin trouble owing to the very means of opulence which had brought contentto his house. 

On going home on the night after the great attack on Marnhoul, weary ofdirecting affairs, misleading the dragoons, whispering specious theoriesinto the ear of the commanding officer and his aides, he had been met atthe outer gate of his cabin by a fact that overturned all his notions ofdomestic economy. Ephraim, precious Ephraim, the Connoway family pig, had been turned out of doors and was now grunting disconsolately, thrusting a ringed nose through the bars of Paradise. Now Boyd knew thathis wife set great store by Ephraim. Indeed, he had frequently beencompared, to his disadvantage, with Ephraim and his predecessors in thenarrow way of pigs. Ephraim was of service. What would the "poorchilder, " what would Bridget herself do without Ephraim? Bridget was notquite sure whether she kept Ephraim or whether Ephraim kept her. At anyrate it was not to Boyd Connoway that she and her offspring were anywaysindebted for care and sustenance. 

"The craitur, " said Bridget affectionately, "he pays the very rint!"

But here, outside the family domain, was Ephraim, the beloved of hiswife's heart, actually turned out upon a cold and unfeeling world, andwith carefully spaced grunts of bewilderment expressing his discontent. If such were Ephraim's fate, how would the matter go with him? BoydConnoway saw a prospect of finding a husband and the father of a familyturned from his own door, and obliged to return and take up his quarterswith this earlier exile. 

The Connoway family residence was a small and almost valueless leaseholdfrom the estate of General Johnstone. The house had always beentumbledown, and the tenancy of Bridget and her brood had not improved itexternally. The lease was evidently a repairing one. For holes in thethatch roof were stopped with heather, or mended with broad slabs ofturf held down with stones and laboriously strengthened with wattle--amarvel of a roof. It is certain that Boyd's efforts were nevercontinuous. He tired of everything in an hour, or sooner--unlesssomebody, preferably a woman, was watching him and paying himcompliments on his dexterity. 

The cottage had originally consisted of the usual "but-and-ben"--that isto say, in well regulated houses (which this one was not) of akitchen--and a room that was not the kitchen. The family beds occupiedone corner of the kitchen, that of Bridget and her husband in the middle(including accommodation for the latest baby), while on either side andat the foot, shakedowns were laid out "for the childer, " slightly raisedfrom the earthen floor on rude trestles, with a board laid across toreceive the bedding. There was nothing at either side to provide againstthe occupants rolling over, but, as the distance from the ground didnot average more than four inches, the young Connoways did not run muchdanger of accident on that account. 

Disputes were, however, naturally somewhat frequent. Jerry or Phil woulddescribe himself as "lying on so many taturs"--Mary or Kitty declarethat her bedfellow was "pullin' every scrap off of her, that she was!"

To quell these domestic brawls Bridget Connoway kept at the head of themiddle bed a long peeled willow, which was known as the "Thin One. " TheThin One settled all night disputes in the most evenhanded way. ForBridget did not get out of bed to discriminate. She simply laid on thespot from which the disturbance proceeded till that disturbance ceased. Then the Thin One returned to his corner while innocent and guiltymingled their tears and resolved to conduct hostilities more silently infuture. 

In the daytime, however, the "Thick One" held sway, which was thework-hardened palm of Mistress Bridget Connoway's hand. She wasambidextrous in correction--"one was as good as t'other, " as Jerryremarked, after he had done rubbing himself and comparing damages withhis brother Phil, who had got the left. "There's not a fardin' to pickbetween us!" was the verdict as the boys started out to find theirfather, stretched on his favourite sunny mound within sight of theHaunted House of Marnhoul--now more haunted than ever. 

But on this occasion Boyd Connoway was on his return, when he met theexiled Ephraim. His meditations on his own probable fate have led thehistorian into a sketch of the Connoway establishment, which, indeed, had to come in somewhere. 

For once Boyd wasted no time. With his wife waiting for him it was wellto know the worst and get it over. He opened the door quickly, andintruding his hat on the end of his walking stick, awaited results. Itwas only for a moment, of course, but Boyd Connoway felt satisfied. HisBridget was not waiting for him behind the door with the potato-beetleas she did on days of great irritation. His heart rose--his couragereturned. Was he not a free man, a house-holder? Had he not taken adistinguished part in a gallant action? Bridget must understand this. Bridget should understand this. Boyd Connoway would be respected in hisown house!

Nevertheless he entered hastily, sidling like a dog which expects akick. He avoided the dusky places instinctively--the door of the "ben"room was shut, so Bridget could not be lying in wait there. Was it inthe little closet behind the kitchen that the danger lurked? Thechildren were in bed, save the two youngest, all quiet, all watchingwith the large, dreamy blue (Connoway) eyes, or the small, very brightones (Bridget's) what his fate would be. 

He glanced quaintly, with an interrogative lift of his eyebrows, at thebed to the left. Jerry of the twinkling sloe-eyes answered with a quickupturn of the thumb in the direction of the spare chamber. 

Boyd Connoway frowned portentously at his eldest son. The youth shookhis head. The sign was well understood, especially when helped out witha grin, broad as all County Donegal 'twixt Killibegs and InnishowenLight. 

The "Misthress" was in a good temper. Reassured, on his own account, butinwardly no little alarmed for his wife's health in these unusualcircumstances, Boyd began to take off his boots with the idea ofgliding safely into bed and pretending to be asleep before the wind hadtime to change. 

But Jerry's mouth was very evidently forming some words, which weremeant to inform his father as to particulars. These, thoughunintelligible individually, being taken together and punctuated withjerks in the direction of the shut door of "doon-the-hoose, " constituteda warning which Boyd Connoway could not afford to neglect. 

He went forward to the left hand bed, cocked his ear in the direction ofthe closed door, and then rapidly lowered it almost against his son'slips. 

"She's gotten a hurt man down there, " said Jerry, "she has been runnin'wi' white clouts and bandages a' the forenight. And I'm thinkin' he's novery wise, either--for he keeps cryin' that the deils are comin' to tak'him!"

"What like of a man?" said Boyd Connoway. 

But Jerry's quick ear caught a stirring in the room with the closeddoor. He shook his head and motioned his father to get away from theside of his low truckle bed. 

When his wife entered, Boyd Connoway, with a sober and innocent face, was untying his boot by the side of the fire. Bridget entered with asaucepan in her hand, which, before she deigned to take any notice ofher husband, she pushed upon the red ashes in the grate. 

From the "ben" room, of which the door was now open, Boyd could hear thelow moaning of a man in pain. He had tended too many sick people not toknow the delirium of fever, the pitiful lapses of sense, then again thevague and troubled pour of words, and at the sound he started to hisfeet. He was not good for much in the way of providing for a family. Hedid a great many foolish, yet more useless things, but there was onething which he understood better than Bridget--how to nurse the sick. 

He disengaged his boot and stood in his stocking feet. 

"What is it?" he said, in an undertone to Bridget. 

"No business of yours!" she answered, with a sudden hissing vehemence. 

"I can do _that_ better than you!" he answered, for once sure of hisground. 

His wife darted at him a look of concentrated scorn. 

"Get to bed!" she commanded him, declining to argue with such as he--andbut for the twinkling eyes of Jerry, which looked sympathy, Boyd wouldhave preferred to have joined the exiled Ephraim under the dark pentamong the coom of the peat-house. 

He looked to Jerry, but Jerry was sound asleep. So was Phil. So were allthe others. 

"Very well, däärlin'!" said Boyd Connoway to himself as his wife leftthe room. "But, sorrow am I for the man down there that she will not letme nurse. She's a woman among a thousand, is Bridget Connoway. But thecraitur will be after makin' the poor man eat his poultices, and use hisbeef tay for outward application only!"

CHAPTER XVII

THE MAN "DOON-THE-HOOSE"

But Bridget Connoway, instant and authoritative as she was, could notprevent her down-trodden husband from thinking. Who was the mysteriouswounded man "down-the-house"? One of the White Smugglers? Hardly. Boydhad been in the thick of that business and knew that no one had beenhurt except Barnboard Tam, whose horse had run away with him and brushedhim off, a red-haired Absalom in homespuns, against the branches inMarnhoul Great Wood. 

One of the crew of the _Golden Hind_, American-owned privateersman withFrench letters of marque? Possibly one of the desperate gang they hadlanded called the Black Smugglers, scum of the Low Dutch ports, come todraw an ill report upon the good and wholesome fame of Galloway FreeTrade. 

In either case, Boyd Connoway little liked the prospect, and instead ofgoing to bed, he remained swinging his legs before the fire in a musingattitude, listening to the moaning noises that came from the chamber hewas forbidden to enter. He was resolved to have it out with his wife. 

He had not long to wait. Bridget appeared in the doorway, a bundle ofdark-stained cloths between her palms. She halted in astonishment at thesight which met her eyes. At first it seemed to her that she wasdreaming, or that her voice must have betrayed her. She gave her husbandthe benefit of the doubt. 

"I thought I tould ye, Boyd Connoway, " she said in a voice dangerouslylow and caressing, "to be getting off to your bed and not disturbin' thechilder'!"

"Who is the man that had need of suchlike?" demanded Boyd Connoway, suddenly regaining his lost heritage as the head of a house, "speakwoman, who are ye harbouring there?"

Bridget stood still. The mere unexpectedness of the demand rendered hersilent. The autocrat of all the Russias treated as though he were one ofhis own ministers of state could not have been more dumbfounded. 

With a sudden comprehension of the crisis Bridget broke for the poker, but Boyd had gone too far now to recoil. He caught at the littlethree-legged stool on which he was wont to take his humble frugal meals. It was exactly what he needed. He had no idea of assaulting Bridget. Herecognized all her admirable qualities, which filled in the shortcomingsof his shiftlessness with admirable exactitude. He meant to act strictlyon the defensive, a system of warfare that was familiar to him. Forthough he had never before risen up in open revolt, he had never countedmere self-preservation as an insult to his wife. 

"_Whack!_" down came the poker in the lusty hand of Bridget Connoway. "_Crack!_" the targe in the lifted arm of Boyd countered it. Atarm's-length he held it. The next attack was cut number two of themanual for the broad-sword. Skilfully with his shield Boyd Connowayturned it to the side, so that, gliding from the polished oak of thewell-worn seat, the head of the poker caught his wife on the knee, andshe dropped her weapon with a cry of pain. Jerry and the other children, in the seventh heaven of delight at the parental duel, were sitting upin their little night-shirts (which for simplicity's sake wereidentical with their day-shirts); their eyes, black and blue, sparkledunanimous, and they made bets in low tones from one bed to another. 

"Two to one on Daddy!"

"Jerry, ye ass, I'll bet ye them three white chuckies[1] he'll lose!"

"Hould your tongue, Connie--mother'll win, sure. The Thick 'Un will gethim!"

Such combats were a regular interest for them, and one, in quiet times, quite sympathized in by their father, who would guide the combat so thatthey might have a better view. 

"Troth, and why shouldn't they, poor darlints? Sure an' it's littleenough amusement they have!"

He had even been known to protract an already lost battle to lengthenout the delectation of his offspring. The Cæsars gave to their people"Bread and the circus!" But they did not usually enter the arenathemselves--save in the case of the incomparable bowman of Rome, andthen only when he knew that no one dared stand against him. But BoydConnoway fought many a losing fight that his small citizens mightwriggle with delight on their truckles. "The Christians to the lions!"Yes, that was noble. But then they had no choice, while Boyd Connoway, awilling martyr, fought his lioness with a three-legged stool. 

This time, however, the just quarrel armed the three-legged, while cutnumber two of Forbes's Manual fell, not on Boyd Connoway's head, forwhich it was intended, but on Bridget's knee-cap. Boyd of the tenderheart (though stubborn stool), was instantly upon his knees, hisbuckler flung to the ground and rubbing with all his might, withmurmurings of, "Does it hurt now, darlint?--Not bääd, sure?--Say it isbetter now thin, darlint!"

Boyd was as conscience-stricken as if he had personally wielded thepoker. But the mind of Bridget was quite otherwise framed. With one handshe seized his abundant curly hair, now with a strand or two of earlygrey among the straw-colour of it, and while she pulled handfuls of itout by the roots (so Boyd declared afterwards), she boxed his earsheartily with the other. Which, indeed, is witnessed to by the wholegoggle-eyed populace in the truckle bed. 

"Didn't I tell ye, Jerry, ye cuckoo, " whispered Connie, "she'd beat him?He's gettin' the Thick 'Un, just as I told ye!"

"But it's noways fair rules, " retorted Jerry; "father he flung down hisweepon for to rub her knee when she hurt it herself wid the poker!"

Jerry had lost his bet, as indeed he usually did, but for all that heremained a consistent supporter of the losing side. Daily heacknowledged in his body the power of the arm of flesh, but the vagrantbutterfly humour of the male parent with the dreamy blue eyes touchedhim where he lived--perhaps because his, like his mother's, weresloe-black. 

Nevertheless, in spite of mishandling and a scandalous disregard of therules of the noble art of self-defence (not yet elaborated, but onlyroughly understood as "Fair play to all"), Boyd Connoway carried hispoint. 

He saw the occupant of the bed "doon-the-hoose. "

He was a slim man with clean-cut features, very pale about the gills andwaxen as to the nose. He lay on the bed, his head ghastly in its whitebandages rocking from side to side and a stream of curses, thin andsmall of voice as a hill-brook in drought, but continuous as amill-lade, issuing from between his clenched teeth. 

These adjurations were in many tongues, and their low-toned varietyindicated the swearing of an educated man. 

Boyd understood at once that he had to do with no vulgar Tarry-Breeks, no sweepings of a couple of hemispheres, but with "a gentleman born. "And in Donegal, though they may rebel against their servitude and meetthem foot by foot on the field or at the polling-booths, they know agentleman when they see one, and never in their wildest moods deny hisbirthright. 

Boyd, therefore, took just one glance, and then turning to his wifeuttered his sentiment in three words of approval. "I'm wid ye!" he said. 

Had it been Galligaskins or any seaman of the _Golden Hind_, Boyd wouldhave had him out of the house in spite of his wife and all the wholesomedomestic terror she had so long been establishing. 

But a Donegal man is from the north after all, and does not easily taketo the informer's trade. Besides, this was a gentleman born. 

Yet he had better have given hospitality to Galligaskins and the wholecrew of pirates who manned the _Golden Hind_ than to this slender, clear-skinned creature who lay raving and smiling in the bedroom ofBoyd Connoway's cabin. 

[Footnote 1: "Chuckies, " white pebbles used, in these primitive times, instead of marbles. ]

CHAPTER XVIII

THE TRANSFIGURATION OF AUNT JEN

Never was anything seen like it in our time. I mean the transformationof Aunt Jen, the hard crabapple of our family, after the entrance of theMaitland children into the household of Heathknowes. Not that my aunthad much faith in Irma. She had an art, which my aunt counted uncanny, indeed savouring of the sin of witchcraft. It mattered not at all whatIrma was given to wear--an old tartan of my grandmother's Highland Marydays when she was a shepherdess by the banks of Cluden, a severe gowndesigned on strictly architectural principles by the unabashed shears ofAunt Jen herself, a bodice and skirt of my mother's, dovelike in hue andcarrying with them some of her own retiring quality in every line. Itwas all the same, with a shred or two of silk, with a little undoinghere, a little tightening there, a broad splash of colour cut from oneof my Uncle Rob's neckcloths--not anywhere, but just in the rightplace--Irma could give to all mankind the impression of being the onlyperson worth looking at in the parish. With these simple means she couldand did make every other girl, though attired in robes that had come allthe way from Edinburgh, look dowdy and countrified. 

Also she had the simple manner of those who stand in no fear of any onetaking a liberty with them. Her position was assured. Her beauty spokefor itself, and as for the old tartan, the slab-sided merino, theretiring pearl-grey wincey, their late owners did not know them againwhen they appeared in the great square Marnhoul pew in the parishchurch, which Irma insisted upon occupying. 

I think that a certain scandal connected with this, actually caused morestir in the parish than all the marvel of the appearance of the childrenin the Haunted House. And for this reason. Heathknowes was a Cameronianhousehold. The young men of Heathknowes were looked upon to furnish asuccessor to their father as an elder in the little meeting-house downby the Fords. But with the full permission of my grandmother, and thetacit sympathy of my grandfather, each Sabbath day Miss Irma and SirLouis went in state to the family pew at the parish kirk (a square boxlarge enough to seat a grand jury). The children were perched in thefront, Irma keeping firm and watchful guard over her brother, while inthe dimmer depths, seen from below as three sturdy pairs of shouldersagainst the dusk of a garniture of tapistry, sat the three Cameronianyoung men of Heathknowes. 

Nothing could so completely and fully have certified the strength of mygrandmother's purpose than that she, a pillar of the Covenant, thuscomplacently allowed her sons to frequent the public worship of anuncovenanted and Erastian Establishment. 

But there was at least one in the house of Heathknowes not to be somisled by the outward graces of the body. 

"Favour is vain and the eye of Him that sitteth in the heavens regardethit not, " she was wont to say, "and if Rob and Thomas and Ebenezer cometo an ill end, mother, you will only have yourself to thank for it!"

"Nonsense, Jen, " said her mother, "if you are prevented by yourinfirmities from talkin' sense, at least do hold your tongue. DoctorGillespie is a Kirkman and a Moderate, but he is--well, he is theDoctor, and never a word has been said against him for forty year, walkand conversation both as becometh the Gospel----"

"Aye, but _is_ it the Gospel?" cried Jen, snipping out her words as withscissors; "that's the question. "

"When I require you, Janet Lyon, to decide for your mother what isGospel and what is not, I'll let ye ken, " said my grandmother, "and if Ihave accepted a responsibility from the Most High for these children, Iwill do my best to render an account of my stewardship at the GreatWhite Throne. In the meantime, _you_ have no more right to task me forit, than--than--Boyd Connoway!"

"There, " cried Jen, slapping down the last dish which she had beendrying while her mother washed, "I declare, mother, I might just as wellnot have a tongue at all. Whatever I say you are on my back. And as ifsnubbing me were not enough, down you must come on me with the GreatWhite Throne!"

Her aggrieved voice made my grandmother laugh. 

"Well-a-well!" she said, in her richly comfortable voice of a mother ofconsolation, "you are of the tribe of Marthas, Jen, and you certainlywork hard enough for everybody to give your tongue a right to a littletrot now and then. You will have all the blessings, daughterJanet--except that of the peacemaker. For it's in you to set folk by theears and you really can't help it. Though who you took it from is morethan I can imagine, with a mother as mild as milk and a father----"

"Well, what about the father--speak of the--um-um--father and he willappear, I suppose!"

It was my grandfather who had come in, his face bronzed with the sunand a friendly shaving tucked underneath his coat collar at the back, witnessing that some one of his sons, in the labours of the pirn-mill, had not remembered the first commandment with promise. 

His wife removed it with a smile, and said, "I'll wager ye that was yonrascal Rob. He is always at his tricks!"

"Well, what were you saying about me, old wife?" said grandfather, looking at his wife with the quiet fondness that comes of half-a-centuryof companionship. 

"Only that Jen there had a will-o'-the-wisp of a temper and that I knewnot how she got it, for you only go about pouring oil upon the waters!"

"As to that, you know best, guidwife, " he answered, smiling, "but Ithink I have heard of a wife up about the Heathknowes, who in somemeasure possesses the power of her unruly member. It is possible thatJen there may have picked up a thorn or two from that side!"

William Lyon caught his daughter's ear. 

"Eh, lass, what sayest thou?" he crooned, looking down upon her with atenderness rare to him with one of his children. "What sayest thou?"

"I say that you and mother and all about this house have run out of yourwits about this slip of a girl? I say that you may rue it when you havenot a son to succeed you at the Kirk of the Covenant down by the Ford. "

The fleeting of a smile came over my grandfather's face, that quietamusement which usually showed when my grandmother opposed her will tohis, and when for once he did not mean to give in. 

"It's a sorrowful thing--a whole respectable household gone daft abouta couple of strange children;" he let the words drop very slowly. "Specially I was distressed to hear of one who rose betimes to milk acow, so that the cream would have time to rise on the morning's milk bytheir porridge time!"

"Father, " said Jen, "that was for the boy bairn. He has not been broughtup like the rest of us, and he does not like warm milk with hisporridge. "

"Doubtless--ah, doubtless, " said William Lyon; "but if he is to bidewith us, is it not spoiling him thus to give way to suchlike whims? Hewill have to learn some day, and when so good a time as now?"

Aunt Jen, who knew she was being teased, kept silence, but the shouldernearest my father had an indignant hump. 

"Wheesht, William, " interposed grandmother good-naturedly, "if Jen rosebetimes to get milk for the bairn, ye ken yoursel' that ye think thebetter of her for it. And so do I. Jen's not the first whose acts arekindlier than her principles. "

But Jen kept her thorns out and refused to be brought into the fold byflattery, till her father said, "Jen, have ye any of that finehomebrewed left, or did the lads drink it a' to their porridges? I'm akennin' weary, and nothing refreshes me like that!"

Jen felt the artfulness of this, nevertheless she could not help beingtouched. The care of the still-room was hers, because, though mygrandmother could go through twice the work in the day that her daughtercould, the brewing of the family small beer and other labours of thestill-room were of too exact and methodical a nature for a headlongdriver like Mary Lyon. 

My grandfather got his ale, of the sort just then beginning to bemade--called "Jamaica, " because a quantity of the cheap sugar refusefrom the hogsheads was used in its production. In fact, it was theancestor of the "treacle ale" of later years. But to the fabrication ofthis beverage, Jen added mysterious rites, during which the door of thestill-room was locked, barred, and the keyhole blinded, while Eben andRob, my uncles, stood without vainly asking for a taste, or simulatingby their moans and cries the most utter lassitude and fatigue. 

William Lyon sat sipping his drink while Jen eyed him furtively as shewent about the house, doing her duties with the silence and exactitudeof a well-oiled machine. She was a difficult subject, my aunt Jen, tolive with, but she could be got at, as her father well knew, by ahumanizing vanity. 

He sat back with an air of content in his great wide chair, the chairthat had been handed down as the seat of the head of the house from manygenerations of Lyonses. He sipped and nodded his head, looking towardshis daughter, and lifting the tankard with a courtly gesture as ifpledging her health. 

Jen was pleased, though for a while she did not allow it to be seen, andher only repentance was taking up the big empty goblet without beingasked and going to the still-room to refill it. 

During her absence my grandfather shamelessly winked at my grandmother, while my grandmother shook her fist covertly at her husband. Whichpantomime meant to say on the part of William Lyon that _he_ knew how tomanage women, while on his wife's side it inferred that she would notdemean herself to use means so simple and abject as plain flattery evenwith a "camsteary" daughter. 

But they smiled at each other, not ill-content, and as my grandmotherpassed to the dresser she paused by the great oak chair long enough tomurmur, "She's coming round!" But my grandfather only smiled and lookedtowards the door that led to the still-room, pantries and so forth, asif he found the time long without his second pot of sugar ale. 

He was something of a diplomat, my grandfather. 

It was while sitting thus, with the second drink of harmless "Jamaica"before him, my aunt and grandmother crossing each other ceaselessly onsilent feet, that a knock came to the front door. 

Now in Galloway farm houses there is a front door, but no known use forit has been discovered, except to _be_ a door. Later, it was the customto open it to let in the minister on his stated visitations, and laterstill to let out the dead. But at the period of which I write it was adoor and nothing more. 

Both of these other uses are mere recent inventions. The shut front doorof my early time stood blistering and flaking in the hot sun, orsoaking--crumbling, and weather-beaten--during months of bad weather. For, with a wide and noble entrance behind upon the yard, sowell-trodden and convenient, so charged with the pleasant press ofentrants and exodants, so populous with affairs, from which the chickenshad to be "shooed" and the moist noses of questing calves pushed asidetwenty times a day--why should any mortal think of entering by the frontdoor of the house. First of all it was the front door. Next, no one knewwhether it would open or not, though the odds were altogether againstit. Lastly, it was a hundred miles from anywhere and opened only upon astuffy lobby round which my grandmother usually had her whole Sundaywardrobe hung up in bags smelling of lavender to guard against themoths. 

Nevertheless, the knock sounded distinctly enough from the front door. 

"Some of the bairns playing a trick, " said my grandmother tolerantly, "let them alone, Janet, and they will soon tire o't!"

But Jen had showed so much of the unwonted milk of human kindness thatshe felt she must in some degree retrieve her character. She waited, therefore, for the second rap, louder than the first, then lifted a wandfrom the corner and went "down-the-house, " quietly as she did allthings. 

Aunt Jen concealed the rod behind her. Her private intention was to waitfor the third knock, and then open suddenly, with the deadly resolve toteach us what we were about--a mental reservation being made in the caseof Baby Louis, who (if the knocker turned out to be he) must obviouslyhave been put up to it. 

The third knock fell. Aunt Jen leaped upon the door-handle. Boltscreaked and shot back, but swollen by many rainy seasons, the door heldstoutly as is the wont of farm front doors. Then suddenly it gave wayand Aunt Jen staggered back against the wall, swept away by the energyof her own effort. The wand fell from her hand, and she stood with theinner door handle still clutched in nervous fingers before a slightdapper man in a shiny brown coat, double-breasted and closely buttoned, even on this broiling day--while the strident "_weesp-weesp_" of brotherTom down in the meadow, sharpening his scythe with a newly fill"strake, " made a keen top-note to the mood of summer. 

"Mr. Poole, " said the slim man, uncovering and saluting obsequiously, and then seeing that my aunt rested dumb-stricken, the rod which hadbeen in pickle fallen to the floor behind her, he added with a littlemincing smile and a kind of affected heel-and-toe dandling of his body, "I am Mr. Wrighton Poole, of the firm of Smart, Poole, and Smart ofDumfries. "

CHAPTER XIX

LOADED-PISTOL POLLIXFEN

Now Aunt Jen's opinion of lawyers was derived from two sources, observation and a belief in the direct inspiration of two lines of Dr. Watts, his hymns. 

In other words, she had noticed that lawyers sat much in their offices, twiddling with papers, and that they never went haymaking nor stooderect in carts dumping manure on the autumnal fields. So two lines ofDr. Watts, applicable for such as they, and indeed every one not soaggressively active as herself, were calculated to settle the case ofMr. Wrighton Poole. 

 "Satan finds some mischief For idle hands to do. "

Indeed, I had heard of them more than once myself, when she caught melying long and lazy in the depths of a haymow with a book under my nose. 

At any rate Aunt Jen suspected this Mr. Poole at once. But so she wouldthe Lord Chancellor of England himself, for the good reason that bychoice and custom he sat on a woolsack!

"I'd woolsack him!" Aunt Jen had cried when this fact was first broughtto her notice; "I'd make him get up pretty quick and earn his living ifhe was my man!"

My grandfather had pointed out that the actual Lord Chancellor of themoment was a bachelor, whereupon Aunt Jen retorted, "Aye, and doubtlessthat's the reason. The poor body has nobody to do her duty by him!"

For these excellent reasons my Aunt Jen took a dislike to Mr. WrightonPoole (of the firm of Smart, Poole, and Smart, solicitors, Dumfries) atthe very first glance. 

And yet, when he was introduced into the state parlour with the sixmahogany-backed, haircloth-seated chairs, the two narrow arm-chairs, thefour ugly mirrors, and the little wire basket full of odds and ends ofcrockery and foreign coins--covered by the skin of a white blackbird, found on the farm and prepared for stuffing--he looked a very dapper, respectable, personable man. But my Aunt Jen would have none of hiscompliments on the neatness of the house or the air of bien comfort thateverything about the farm had worn on his way thither. 

She drew out a chair for him and indicated it with her hand. 

"Bide there, " she commanded, "till I fetch them that can speak wi' you!"An office which, had she chosen, Jen was very highly qualified toundertake, save for an early and deep-rooted conviction that businessmatters had better be left to the dealing of man and man. 

This belief, however, was not in the least that of my grandmother. Shewould come in and sit down in the very middle of one of my grandfather'smost private bargainings with the people to whom he sold his spools and"pirns. " She had her say in everything, and she said it so easily and somuch as a matter of course that no one was ever offended. 

Grandfather was at the mill and in consequence it was my grandmother whoentered from the dairy, still wiping her hands from the good, warmbuttermilk which had just rendered up its tale of butter. There was akind of capable and joyous fecundity about my grandmother, in spite ofher sharp tongue, her masterful ways, the strictness of her theology andher old-fashioned theories, which seemed to produce an effect even oninanimate things. So light and loving was her hand--the hand that hadloved (and smacked) many children, brooded over innumerable hatchings ofthings domestic, tended whole byrefuls of cows, handled suckling lambswith dead mothers lying up on the hill--aye, played the surgeon even torobins with broken legs, for one of which she constructed a leg capableof being strapped on, made it out of the whalebone of an old corset ofher own for which she had grown too abundant!

So kindly was the eye that could flash fire on an argumentativeEpiscopalian parson--and send him over two pounds of butter and a dozenfresh-laid eggs for his sick wife--that (as I say) even inanimateobjects seemed to respond to her look and conform themselves to the wishof her finger tips. She had been known to "set" a dyke which had twiceresolved itself into rubbish under the hands of professionals. Theuseless rocky patch she had taken as a herb garden blossomed like therose, bringing forth all manner of spicy things. For in these days inGalloway most of the garnishments of the table were grown in the gardenitself, or brought in from the cranberry bogs and the blaeberry banks, where these fruits grew among a short, crumbly stubble of heather, dryand elastic as a cushion, and most admirable for resting upon whileeating. 

Well, grandmother came in wiping her hands. It seems to me now that Isee her--and, indeed, whenever she does make an entry into the story, Ialways feel that I must write yet another page about the dear, warm-hearted, tumultuous old lady. 

She saw the slender lawyer with the brown coat worn shiny, the scratchwig tied with its black wisp of silk, and the black bag in his hand. Hehad been taking a survey of the room, and started round quickly at theentrance of my grandmother. Then he made a deep bow, and grandmother, who could be very grand indeed when she liked, bestowed upon him acurtsey the like of which he had not seen for a long while. 

"My name is Poole, " he said apologetically. "I presume I have the honourof speaking to Mistress Mary Lyon, spouse and consort of William Lyon, tacksman of the Mill of Marnhoul with all its lades, weirs, andpendicles----"

"If you mean that William Lyon is my man, ye are on the bit so far, "said my grandmother; "pass on. What else hae ye to say? I dinna supposethat ye cam' here to ask a sicht o' my marriage lines. "

"It is, indeed, a different matter which has brought me thus far, " saidthe lawyer man, with a certain diffidence, "but I think that perhaps Iought to wait till--till your husband, in fact----"

"If you are waiting for Weelyum, " said Mary Lyon, "ye needna fash. He iso' the same mind as me--or will be after I have spoken wi' him. Say on!"

"Well, then, " the lawyer continued, "it is difficult--but the matterresolves itself into this. I understand--my firm understands, that youare harbouring in or about this house a young woman calling herself IrmaSobieski Maitland, and a child of the male sex whom the aforesaid IrmaSobieski affirms to be the rightful owner of this estate--in fact, SirLouis Maitland. Now, my firm have been long without direct news of thefamily whom they represent. Our intelligence of late years has come fromtheir titular and legal guardian, Mr. Lalor Maitland, Governor of thedistrict of the Upper Meuse in the Brabants. Now we have recently heardfrom this gentleman that his wards--two children bearing a certainresemblance to those whom, we are informed, you have beenharbouring----"

My grandmother's temper, always uncertain with adults with whom she hadno sympathy, had been gradually rising at each repetition of anoffending word. 

"Harbouring, " she cried, "harbouring--let me hear that word come out o'your impident mouth again, ye upsettin' body wi' the black bag, and I'llgie ye the weight o' my hand against the side o' your face. Let me tellyou that in the house of Heathknowes we harbour neither burrowing ratsnor creepin' foumarts, nor any manner of unclean beasts--and as for alawvier, if lawvier ye be, ye are the first o' your breed to enter here, and if my sons hear ye talkin' o' harbourin'--certes, ye stand a chanceto gang oot the door wi' your feet foremost!"

"My good woman, " said the lawyer, "I was but using an ordinary word, inperfect ignorance of any----"

"Come na, nane o' that crooked talk! Mary Lyon is nae bit silly JennyWren to be whistled off the waa' wi' ony siccan talk. Dinna tell me thata lawvier body doesna ken what 'harbouring rogues and vagabonds'means--the innocent lamb that he is--and him reading the _Courier_ everyWednesday!"

"But, " said the solicitor, with more persistent firmness than hisemaciated body and timorous manner would have led one to expect, "thechildren are here, and it is my duty to warn you that in withholdingthem from their natural guardian you are defying the law. I come torequire that the children be given up to me at once, that I may put themunder their proper tutelage. "

"Here, William, " my grandmother called out, recognizing the footstepsof her husband approaching, "gae cry the lads and lock the doors!There's a body here that will need some guid broad Scots weared on him. "

But the lawyer was not yet frightened. As it appeared, he had only knownthe safe plainstones of Dumfries--so at least Mary Lyon thought. For hecontinued his discourse as if nothing were the matter. 

"I came here in a friendly spirit, madam, " he said, "but I have goodreason to believe that every male of your household is deeply involvedin the smuggling traffic, and that several of them, in spite of theirprofessions of religion, assaulted and took possession of the House ofMarnhoul for the purpose of unlawfully concealing therein undutied goodsfrom the proper officers of the crown!"

"Aye, and ken ye wha it was that tried to burn doon your Great House, "cried my grandmother--"it was your grand tutor--your wonderfu' guardian, even Lalor Maitland, the greatest rogue and gipsy that ever ran on twolegs. There was a grandson o' mine put a charge o' powder-and-shot intohim, though. But here come the lads. They will tell ye news o' yourtutor and guardian, him that ye daur speak to me aboot committing thepuir innocent bairns to--what neither you nor a' the law in your blackbag will ever tak' frae under the roof-tree o' Mary Lyon. Here, this way, lads--dinna be blate! Step ben!"

And so, without a shadow of blateness, there stepped "ben" Tom and Ebenand Rob. Tom had his scythe in his hand, for he had come straight fromthe meadow at his father's call, the sweat of mowing still beading hisbrow, and the broad leathern strap shining wet about his waist. Ebenfolded a pair of brawny arms across a chest like an oriel window, butRob always careful for appearances, had his great-grandfather's sword, known in the family as "Drumclog, " cocked over his shoulder, and carriedhis head to the side with so knowing an air that the blade was coldagainst his right ear. 

Last of all my grandfather stepped in, while I kept carefully out ofsight behind him. He glanced once at his sons. 

"Lads, be ashamed, " he said; "you, Thomas, and especially you, Rob. Putaway these gauds. We are not 'boding in fear of weir. ' These ill daysare done with. Be douce, and we will hear what this decent man has tosay. "

There is no doubt that the lawyer was by this display of force somewhatintimidated. At least, he looked about him for some means of escape, andfumbled with the catch of his black hand-bag. 

"Deil's in the man, " cried Mary Lyon, snatching the bag from him, "butit's a blessing I'm no so easy to tak' in as the guidman there. Let thatbag alane, will ye, na! Wha kens what may be in it? There--what did Itell you?"

Unintentionally she shook the catch open, and within were two pistolscocked and primed, of which Eben and Tom took instant possession. Meanwhile, as may be imagined, my grandmother improved the occasion. 

"A lawvier, are you, Master Wringham Poole o' Dumfries, " she cried? "Abonny lawvier, that does his business wi' a pair o' loaded pistols. Likemaster, like man, I say! There's but ae kind o' lawvier that does hisbusiness like that--he's caa'ed a cut-purse, a common highwayman, andends by dancing a bonny saraband at the end o' a tow-rope! LalorMaitland assaulted Marnhoul wi' just such a band o' thieves androbbers--to steal away the bairns. This will be another o' the gang. Lads, take hold, and see what he has on him. "

But with one bound the seemingly weak and slender man flung himself inthe direction of the door. Before they could move he was out into thelobby among the lavender bags containing Mary Lyon's Sunday wardrobe, and but for the fact that he mistook the door of a preserve closet forthe front door, he might easily have escaped them all. But Rob, who wasyoung and active, closed in upon him. The slim man squirmed like an eel, and even when on the ground drew a knife and stuck it into the calf ofRob's leg. A yell, and a stamp followed, and then a great silence inwhich we looked at one another awe-stricken. Mr. Wringham Poole lay likea crushed caterpillar, inert and twitching. It seemed as if Rob hadkilled him; but my grandfather, with proper care and precautions drewaway the knife, and after having passed a hand over the body in searchof further concealed weapons, laid him out on the four haircloth chairs, with a footstool under his head for a pillow. 

Then, having listened to the beating of the wounded man's heart, hereassured us with a nod. All would be right. Next, from an inner pockethe drew a pocket-book, out of the first division of which dropped ablack mask, like those worn at the assault upon Marnhoul, with piercedeyeholes and strings for fastening behind the ears. There were also afew papers and a card on which was printed a name--

"Wringham Pollixfen Poole"; and then underneath, written in pencil in aneat lawyer-like hand, were the words, "Consultation at the Old Port atmidnight to-morrow. "

At this we all looked at one another with a renewal of our perturbation. The firm of Smart, Poole and Smart had existed in Dumfries for a longtime, and was highly considered. But in these troubled times one neverknew how far his neighbour might have been led. A man could only answerfor himself, and even as to that, he had sometimes a difficulty inexplaining himself. One of the firm of lawyers in the High Street mighthave been tempted out of his depth. But, at any rate, here was one ofthem damaged, and that by the hasty act of one of the sons of the houseof Heathknowes--which in itself was a serious matter. 

My grandfather, therefore, judged it well that the lawyers in Dumfriesshould be informed of what had befallen as soon as possible. But Mr. Wringham Pollixfen Poole, if such were his name, was certainly in needof being watched till my grandfather's return, specially as of necessityhe would be in the same house as Miss Irma and Sir Louis. 

None of the young men, therefore, could be spared to carry a message toDumfries. My father could not leave his school, and so it came to passthat I was dispatched to saddle my grandfather's horse. He would ride toDumfries with me on a pillion behind him, one hand tucked into thepocket of his blue coat, while with the other I held the belt about hiswaist to make sure. I had to walk up the hills, but that took little ofthe pleasure away. Indeed, best of all to me seemed that running hitherand thither like a questing spaniel, in search of all manner of wildflowers, or the sight of strange, unknown houses lying in woodedglens--one I mind was Goldielea--which, as all the mead before the doorwas one mass of rag-weed (which only grows on the best land), appearedto me the prettiest and most appropriate name for a house that ever was. 

And so think I still. 

CHAPTER XX

THE REAL MR. POOLE

So in time we ran to Dumfries. And my grandfather put up at a hostelryin English Street, where were many other conveyances with their shaftscanted high in the air, the day being Wednesday. He did not wait amoment even to speak to those who saluted him by name, but betookhimself at once (and I with him) to the lawyers' offices in the HighStreet--where it runs downhill just below the Mid Steeple. 

Here we found a little knot of people. For, as it turned out (though atthe time we did not know it), Messrs. Smart, Poole and Smart were agentsfor half the estates in Dumfriesshire, and our Galloway Marnhoul wasboth a far cry and a very small matter to them. 

So when we had watched a while the tremors of the ingoers, all eager toask favours, and compared them with the chastened demeanour of thosecoming out, my grandfather said to me with his hand on my shoulder, "Ifear, Duncan lad, we shall sleep in Dumfries Tolbooth this night formaking so bauld with one of a house like this!"

And from this moment I began to regard our captive Mr. Poole with a fargreater respect, in spite of his pistols--which, after all, he mightdeem necessary when travelling into such a wild smuggling region as, atthat day and date, most townsbodies pictured our Galloway to be. 

We had a long time to wait in a kind of antechamber, where a man in alivery of canary and black stripes, with black satin knee-breeches andpaste buckles to his shoes took our names, or at least my grandfather'sand the name of the estate about which we wanted to speak to the firm. 

For, you see, there being so many to attend to on market day, they hadparted them among themselves, so many to each. And when it came to ourturn it was old Mr. Smart we saw. The grand man in canary and blackushered us ben, told our name, adding, "of Marnhoul estate, " as if wehad been the owners thereof. 

We had looked to see a fine, noble-appearing man sitting on a kind ofthrone, receiving homage, but there was nobody in the room but an oldman in a dressing-gown and soft felt slippers, stirring thefire--though, indeed, it was hot enough outside. 

He turned towards us, the poker still in his hand, and with an eye likea gimlet seemed to take us in at a single glance. 

"What's wrong? What's wrong the day?" he cried in an odd sing-song;"what news of the Holy Smugglers? More battle, murder, and sudden deathalong the Solway shore?"

I had never seen my grandfather so visibly perturbed before. He actuallystammered in trying to open out his business--which, now I come to thinkof it, was indeed of the delicatest. 

"I have, " he began, "the honour of speaking to Mr. Smart the elder?"

"It is an honour you share with every Moffat Tam that wants a new roofto his pigstye, " grumbled the old man in the dressing-gown, "but such asit is, say on. My time is short! If ye want mainners ye must go nextdoor!"

"Mr. Smart, " said my grandfather, "I have come all the way from thehouse of Heathknowes on the estate of Marnhoul to announce to you amisfortune. "

"What?" cried the old fellow in the blanket dressing-gown briskly, "hasthe dead come to life again, or is Lalor Maitland turned honest?"

But my grandfather shook his head, and with a lamentable voice openedout to the head of the firm what had befallen their Mr. Poole, how hehad come with pistols in his bag, and gotten trodden on by Rob, myreckless uncle, so that he was now lying, safe but disabled, in thesmall wall cabinet of Heathknowes. 

I was expecting nothing less than a cry for the peace officers, and tobe marched off between a file of soldiers--or, at any rate, theconstables of the town guard. 

But instead the little man put on a pair of great glasses with rims ofblack horn, and looked at my grandfather quizzically and a triflesternly to see if he were daring to jest. But presently, seeing thetransparent honesty of the man (as who would not?), he broke out into asnort of laughter, snatched open a door at his elbow, and cried out atthe top of his voice (which, to tell the truth, was no better than ascreech), "Dick Poole--ho there, big Dick Poole!--I want you, Dickie!"

I could see nothing from the next room but a haze of tobacco smoke, which presently entering, set the old man in the dressing-gowna-coughing. 

"Send away thy rascals, Dick, " he wheezed, "and shut that door, Dickie. That cursed reek of yours would kill a hog of the stye. Hither with you, good Dick!"

And after a clinking of glasses and the trampling of great boots on thestairs, an immense man came in. His face was a riot of health. His eyesshone blue and kindly under a huge fleece of curly black hair. There wasred in his cheeks, and his lips were full and scarlet. His hand and armwere those of a prizefighter. He came in smiling, bringing with him suchan odour of strong waters and pipe tobacco that, between laughing andcoughing, I thought the old fellow would have choked. Indeed, I made astep forward to pat the back of his dressing-gown of flannel, and ifMary Lyon had been there, I am sure nothing would have stopped her fromdoing it. 

Even when he had a little recovered, he still stood hiccoughing with thetears in his eyes, and calling out with curious squirms of inwardlaughter, "Dick, lad, this will never do. Thou art under watch and warddown at the pirn-mill of Marnhoul! And it was a wench that did it. Oftenhave I warned thee, Dick! Two pistols thou hadst in a black bag. Dick--for shame, Dick--for shame, thus to fright a decent woman! And herson, Rob (I think you said was the name of him), did trample the verylife out of you--which served you well and right, Dickie! Oh, Dickie, for shame!"

The big man stood looking from one to the other of us, with a kind ofcomical despair, when, hearing through the open door between the oldgentleman's room and his own, the sounds of a noisy irruption and theclinking of glasses beginning again, he went back, and with a torrent ofrough words drove the roysterers forth, shutting and locking the doorafter them. 

Then he came strolling back, leaned his arm on the mantelpiece, and bademy grandfather tell him all about it. I can see him yet, this huge ruddyman, spreading himself by the fireplace, taking up most of the roomwith his person, while he of the flannel dressing-gown wandered about_tee-heeing_ with laughter--and, round one side or the other, or betweenthe legs of the Colossus, making an occasional feeble poke at the fire. 

It was curious also to see how my grandfather's serene simplicity ofmanner and speech compelled belief. I am sure that at first the big manDick had nothing in his mind but turning us out into the street as hehad done the roysterers. But as William Lyon went on, his bright eyegrew more thoughtful, and when my grandfather handed him the slip withthe name of Mr. Wringham Pollixfen Poole upon it, he absolutely brokeinto a hurricane of laughter, which, however, sounded to me not a littleforced and hollow--though he slapped his leg so loud and hard that thelittle man in the dressing-gown stopped open-mouthed and dropped hispoker on the floor. 

"It seems to me, " he cried shrilly, "that if you hit yourself like that, Dick Poole, you will split your buckskin breeches, which appear to benew. "

But the big man took not the least notice. He only stared at the scrapof paper, and then started to laugh again. 

"Oh, don't do that!" cried his partner. "You will blow my windows out, and you know how I hate a draught!"

And indeed they were rattling in their frames. Then the huge Dick wentforward and took my grandfather by the hand. 

"You are sure you have got him?" he inquired; "remember, he is slipperyas an eel. "

"My wife is looking after him--my three sons also, " said William Lyon, "and I think it likely that the stamp he got from Rob will keep himdecently quiet for a day at least. You see, " he added apologetically, "he drave the knife into the thick of the poor lad's leg!"

"Wringham?" cried the big man, "why, I did not think he had so mucklespunk!"

"Is he close freend of yours?" my grandfather inquired a littleanxiously. For he did not wish to land himself in a blood-feud with thekin of a lawyer. 

"Friend of mine!" cried the big man, "no, by no means a friend--but, asit may chance, some sort of kin. However that may be, if you have indeedgot Pollixfen safe, you have done the best day's work that ever you didfor yourself and for King George, God bless him!"

"Say you so?" said my grandfather. "Indeed, I rejoice me to hear it. Ihave ever been a loyal subject. And as to the Maitland bairns--you seeno harm in their making their home with my goodwife, where the lads cantake care of them--in the unsettled state of the country!"

The senior partner at last got in a poke at the fire, for which he hadbeen long waiting his chance. 

"And you, Master Lyon, that are such a good kingsman, " he kekkled, "doyou never hear the blythe Free Traders go clinking by, or find an ankerof cognac nested in your yard among the winter-kail?"

"Mr. Smart, " said the big man, "this is a market day, but I shall needto ride and see if this is well founded. You will put on your coatdecently and take my work. Abraham has already as much as he can do. Beshort with them--they will not come wanting to drink with you as they dowith me! If what this good Cameronian says be true at this moment, as Ihave no doubt it was when he left Marnhoul, the sooner I, RichardPoole, am on the spot the better. "

So he bade us haste and get our beast out of the yard. As for him he wasbooted and spurred and buckskinned already. He had nothing to do butmount and ride. 

All this had passed so quickly that I had hardly time to think on thestrangeness of it. _Our_ Mr. Poole, he to whom my uncle Rob had givensuch a stamp, was not the partner in the ancient firm of Smart, Pooleand Smart of the Plainstones. Of these I had seen two, and heard thebusy important voice of the third in another room as we descended thestairs. They were all men very different from the viper whom mygrandmother had caught as in a bag. Even Mr. Smart was a gentleman. Forif he had a flannel dressing-gown on, one could see the sparkle of hispaste buckles at knee and instep, and his hose were of the best blacksilk, as good as Doctor Gillespie's on Sacrament Sabbath when he wasgoing up to preach his action sermon. But our Mr. Wringham PollixfenPoole--I would not have wiped my foot on him--though, indeed, Uncle Robhad made no bones about that matter. 

CHAPTER XXI

WHILE WE SAT BY THE FIRE

Through the deep solitude of Tereggles Long Wood, past lonely lochs onwhich little clattering ripples were blowing, into a west that was allbarred gold and red islands of fire, we rode. Or rather grandfather andI went steadily but slowly on our pony, while beside us, sometimesgalloping a bit, anon trotting, came big Mr. Richard Poole on his blackhorse. Sometimes he would ride off up a loaning to some farm-town wherehe had a job to be seen to, or rap with the butt of his loaded whip atthe door of some roadside inn--the Four Mile house or Crocketford, wherehe would call for a tankard and drain it off, as it were, with one tossof the head. 

It was easy to be seen that, for some reason of his own, he did not wishto get to Heathknowes before us. Yet, after he had asked my grandfatheras to the children, and some details of the attack on the house ofMarnhoul (which he treated as merely an affair between two rival bandsof smugglers) he was pretty silent. And as we got nearer home, he grewaltogether absorbed in his thoughts. 

But I could not help watching him. He looked so fine on his prancingblack, with the sunset glow mellowing his ruddy health, and his curioushabit of constantly making the thong of his horsewhip whistle throughthe air or smack against his leg. 

I had met as big men and clever men, but one so active, so healthy, sobeautiful I had never before seen. And every time that a buxom wife or awell-looking maid brought him his ale to the door of the change-house, he would set a forefinger underneath her chin and pat her cheek, askingbanteringly after the children or when the wedding was coming off. Andthough they did not know him or he them, no one took his words or actsamiss. Such was the way he had with him. 

And about this time I began to solace myself greatly with the thought ofthe meeting there would be between these two--the false Poole and thetrue. 

At last we came in the twilight to the Haunted House of Marnhoul, andMr. Richard made his horse rear almost as high as the unicorn does inthe sign above the King's Arms door, so suddenly did he swing him roundto the gate. He halted the beast with his head against the very bar andlooked up the avenue. The grass in the glade was again covered with dew, for the sky was clear and it was growing colder every minute. It shonealmost like silver, and beyond was the house standing like a dimdark-grey patch between us and the forest. 

"This gate has been mended, " he remarked, tapping the new wooden postthat had come down from the mill a day or two before. 

"I saw to that myself, sir, " said my grandfather. "I also painted it. "

"Ha, well done--improving the property for your young guests!" said Mr. Richard, and then quite suddenly he turned moodily away. All at once helooked at my grandfather again. "You had better know, " he said, "thatthe girl will have no money. So she ought to be taught dairymaking. I ampartial to dairymaids myself! If she favours the Maitlands, she ought tomake a pretty one. "

My grandfather said nothing, for he did not like this sort of talk, andwas utterly careless whether Miss Irma were penniless or the greatestheiress in the country. 

Then the long whitewashed rectangle of the Heathknowes office-housesloomed above us on their hill. In a minute more we were at the gate. Mygrandfather called, and through the door of the kitchen came a longvertical slab of light that fell in a broad beam across the yard. Thenone of the herd-lads hurried across to open the barred "yett" and let usin. 

"Is all safe?" said my grandfather. 

"As ye left him, " was the answer. "The mistress and the lads have nevertaken their eyes off him for a moment!"

"Take this gentleman's horse, Ben, " said my grandfather. But Mr. Richardpreferred to be his own hostler, nor did he offer to go near the houseor speak a word of his business till he had seen his splendid black dulystalled. 

Then my grandmother was summoned, the children brought down, andimmediately stricken, Sir Louis with an intense admiration of the greatstrong man in riding boots, and Miss Irma with a dislike quite asintense. I could see her averting her eyes and trying to hide it. Butover all the other women in the house he established at once a paramountempire. Even my Aunt Jen followed him with her eyes, so much of the roomdid he take up, so large and easy were his gestures, and with such amatter-of-course simplicity did he take the homage they paid him. 

Yet he seemed to care far more about Miss Irma than even my grandmother, or the fellow of his name whom he had ridden so far to see. 

He asked her whether she would rather stay where she was or come toDumfries, to be near the theatre and Assembly balls. As for a chaperon, she could make her choice between Mrs. Hope of the Abbey and theProvost's lady. Either would be glad to oblige the daughter of aMaitland of Marnhoul--and perhaps also Mr. Richard Poole. 

Then, after hearing her answer, he asked for pen and paper and wrote afew lines--

 "As Miss Irma Maitland urgently desires that her brother and she should remain under the care of Mr. William Lyon and his wife at Heathknowes, and as the aforesaid William and Mary Lyon are able and willing to provide for their maintenance, we see no reason why the arrangement should not be an excellent and suitable one, at least until such time as Sir Louis must be sent to school, when the whole question will again come up. And this to hold good whatever may be the outcome of this interview with the person calling himself Wringham Pollixfen Poole, "For Smart, Poole and Smart, "R. Poole. "

He handed the paper across to my grandmother, in whom he easilyrecognized the ruling spirit of the household. 

"There, madam, " he said, "that will put matters on a right basis with myfirm whatever may happen to me. And now, if you please, I should like tosee my double at once. I suspect a kinsman, but do not be afraid of avendetta. If Master Robin, of whose prowess I have already heard, hascrushed in a rib or two, so much the better. Even if he had broken myworthy relative's back, I fear me few would have worn mourning!"

They found the three young men still in the room, and my grandmother didno more than assure herself of the presence of the still white-wrappedfigure on the shakedown in the corner, before leading Mr. Richard intothe parlour. 

He went out from us with a jovial nod to my father, a low bow to MissIrma, and mock salutation to little Sir Louis, his head high in the air, his riding whip swinging by its loop from his arm, and as it seemed, avigour of blood sufficient for a dozen ordinary people circulating inhis veins. 

"Thank you, gentlemen, " he said to my uncles, as soon as he had lookedat the bed and lifted the kerchief which Mary Lyon had laid wet upon thebrow. "I recognize, as I had reason to expect, a scion of my house, however unworthy, with whom it will be necessary for me to communicateprivately. But if you will retire to the kitchen, I shall easily signalyou should your services become again necessary. "

He stood with the edge of the door in his hand, and with a slight bowushered each of my uncles out. I was there, too, of course, seeing whatwas to be seen. His eye lighted on me, and a slinking figure I must havepresented in spite of my usual courage, for he only turned one thumbback over his shoulder with a comical smile, and bade me get to bed, because when he was young he, too, knew what keyholes were good for. 

The word "too" hurt me, for it meant that he thought I was going toeavesdrop, whereas I was merely, for the sake of Irma and the family, endeavouring to satisfy a perfectly legitimate curiosity. 

I did, however, hear him say as he shut and locked the parlour door, "Now, sir, the play is played. Sit up and take off that clout. Let ustalk out this affair like men!"

It was now night, and we were gathered in the kitchen. I do not thinkthat even Rob took much supper. I know that but for my grandfather thehorses would have had to go without theirs--and this, the most sacredduty of mankind about a farm, would for once have been neglected. Wesat, mainly in the dark, with only the red glow of the fire in ourfaces, listening to the voice of a man that came in stormy gusts. Thelamp had been left on the parlour table to give them light, and somehowwe were so preoccupied that none of us thought of lighting a candle. 

The great voice of Mr. Richard dominated us--so full of contempt andanger it was. We could not in the least distinguish what the impostorsaid in reply. Indeed, Rob and I could just hear a kind of roopyclattering like that of a hungry hen complaining to the vague Powerswhich rule the times and seasons of distribution from the "daich" bowl. 

There was something very strange in all this--so strange that when mygrandfather came back, for the first time in the history of Heathknowes, no chapter was read, no psalm sung or prayer read. Somehow it seemedlike an impiety in the face of what was going on down there. Mr. Richardtalked far the most. At first his mood was all of stormy anger, and thereplies of the other, as I have said, almost inaudible. 

But after a while these bursts of bellowing became less frequent. Thelow replying voice grew, if not louder, more persistent. Mr. Richardseemed to be denying or refusing something in short gruff gasps ofbreath. 

"No, no--no! By heaven, sir, NO!" we heard him cry plainly. And somehowhearing that, Irma crept closer to me, and slid her hand in mine, athing which she had not done since the night of watching in the OldHouse of Marnhoul. 

Somehow both of us knew that it was a question of herself. 

Then suddenly upon this long period of to-and-fro, there fell (as itwere) the very calmness of reconciliation. Peace seemed to be made, andI think that all of us were glad of it, for the suspense and anincreasing tension of the nerves were telling on us all. 

"They are shaking hands, " whispered my grandmother; "Mr. Richard hasbrought him to his senses. Fine I knew he would. "

"I wonder if they will put him in prison or let him off because of thefamily?" said Rob, adjusting the bandage about his wounded leg. "Anyway, I am glad of the bit tramp he got from my yard clogs!"

"Wheesht!" whispered my grandfather, inclining his ear in the directionof the parlour door. We all listened, but it was nothing. Not a murmur. 

"They will be writing something--some bond or deed, most likely. "

"They are long about it, " said William Lyon uneasily. 

The silence endured and still endured till an hour was passed. Mygrandfather fidgeted in his chair. At last he said in a low tone, "Lads, we have endured long enough. We must see what they are at. If we arewrong, I will bear the weight!"

As one man the four moved towards the door, through the keyhole of whicha ray of light was stealing from the lamp that had been left on thetable. 

"Open!" cried my grandfather suddenly and loudly. But the door remainedfast. 

"Is all right there, Master Richard?" he shouted. Still there wassilence within. 

"Put your shoulders to it, lads!" Eben and Tom were at it in a moment, while strong Rob, springing from the far side of the passage, burst thelock and sent the door back against the inner wall, the hinges snappedclean through. 

Mr. Richard was sitting in a quiet room, his head leaning forward on hishands. His loaded riding whip was flung in a corner. The window was wideopen, and the night black and quiet without. Sweet odours of flowerscame in from the little garden. The lamp burned peacefully and nothingin the room was disturbed. But Mr. Wringham Pollixfen was not there, andwhen we touched him, Mr. Richard Poole was dead, his head dropped uponhis arms. 

PART III

CHAPTER XXII

BOYD CONNOWAY'S EVIDENCE

The loop of the riding-whip on Mr. Richard's wrist was broken, andbehind his ear there was a lump the size of a small hen's egg. Therewere no signs of a struggle. The two men had been sitting face to face, eye to eye, when by a movement which must have been swift as lightning, one had disarmed and smitten the other. 

Tom, Eben and Rob armed themselves and went out. But the branches ofMarnhoul wood stood up against the sky, black, serried and silent. Thefields beneath spread empty and grey. The sough of the wind and thefleeing cloud of night was all they saw or heard. They were soon withinthe house again, happy to be there and the door barred stoutly uponthem. 

Except for little Louis, who was already in bed on the other side of thehouse where his chamber was, and so knew nothing of the occurrence tillthe morning, there was no sleep for any that night at Heathknowes. Atthe first clear break of day Tom and Eben took the cart-horses and rodeover to tell Dr. Gillespie, General Johnstone, and Mr. ShepstoneOglethorpe, who were all Justices of the Peace, of what had happened. They came, the General the most imposing, with a great army cloak and astar showing beneath the collar. 

In the little detached sitting-room, which till the coming of theMaitlands had been used as a cheese-room, Mr. Richard Poole sat, as hehad been found, his head still bowed upon his arms, but on his face, when they raised it to look, there was an absolute terror, so that eventhe General, who had seen many a day of battle, was glad to lay it downagain. 

They took such testimony as was to be had, which was but little, and alltending to one startling conclusion. Suddenly, swiftly, noiselessly, within hearing of eight or nine people, in a defensible house, with armsat hand, Mr. Richard Poole, of the firm of Smart, Poole and Smart, hadbeen done to death. 

Yet he had known something, though perhaps not the full extent of hisdanger. We recalled his silences, his moodiness as he approached thefarm--the manner in which he had at once put aside all claims, even on amarket Wednesday, that he might ride and speak with a man who, if hewere not a felon, was certainly no honourable acquaintance for such asMr. Richard. 

The three gentlemen looked at each other and took snuff from theDoctor's gold box. 

"Very serious, sir!" said Mr. Shepstone tentatively. For indeed he hadnot many ideas--a fact which the others charitably put down to his beingan Episcopalian. Really he wanted to find out what they thought beforecommitting himself. 

"Tempestuous Theophilus!" cried the General, who in the presence of theDoctor always swore by unknown saints--to relieve himself, as wasthought--"but 'tis more serious than you think. A fellow like thisalive, at large, in our parish----"

"In _my_ parish----" corrected the Doctor, who was the only man alivewith a legal right to speak of Eden Valley parish as his own. 

About noon the Fiscal, responsible law officer of the Crown, arrivedfrom Kirkcudbright escorted by Tom and Eben. The evidence was all heardover again, the chamber--ex-cheese room, present parlour--againinspected, but nothing further appeared likely to be discovered, when ashadow fell across the threshold. 

For some time, indeed, I had sat quaking in my corner, all cold with thefear of a flitting figure, appearing here and there, seen with the tailof the eye, and then disappearing like the black cat I see in cornerswhen my eyes are overstrained with Greek. 

Of course I thought at once of the murderer Wringham Pollixfen lurkingcatlike among the office-houses in the hope of striking again, perhapsat Miss Irma--perhaps, also, as I now see, at Sir Louis. But indeed Inever thought of him, at least not at the time. It was not the pretendedPoole, however. It was a presence as quick, as agile, but more perfectlyacquainted with the hidie-holes of the farmyard--in fact, Boyd Connoway. 

Long before the others I got my eyes on him, and with the joy of a boywhen a visitor enters the school at the dreariest hour of lessons, Irushed after him. To my surprise he went round the angle of the barnlike a shot. But I had played at that game before. I took one flyingleap into the little orchard from the window of the parlour which hadbeen given up to the Maitlands, Louis and Miss Irma. Then I glided amongthe trees, choosing those I knew would hide me, and leaped on MasterBoyd from behind as he was craning his neck to peer round the corner inthe direction of the house door. 

To my utter amaze he dropped to the ground with a throttled kind of cryas if some one had smitten him unawares. Here was surely something thatI did not understand. 

"Boyd, Boyd, " I said in his ear, for I began to grow a little concernedmyself--not terrified, you know, only anxious--"Boyd, it is onlyDuncan--Duncan MacAlpine from the school-house. "

He turned a white, bewildered face to me, cold sweats pearling it, andhis jaw worked in spasms. "Oh yes, " he muttered, "Agnes Anne's brother!"

Now I did not see the use of dragging Agnes Anne continually intoeverything. Also I was one of the boys who had gone with Boyd Connowayoftenest to the fishing in Loch-in-Breck, and he need not have beenafraid of me. But I think that he was a little unsettled by fear. 

He did not explain, however, only bidding me shudderingly, "not to comeat him that way again!" So I promised I would not, all the more readilythat I heard him muttering to himself, "I thought he had me thattime--yes, sure!"

Then I knew that he too was afraid of the man who called himselfWringham Pollixfen Poole and had killed the real Mr. Richard in our oldcheese-room. But I was not a bit afraid, for had I not jumped throughthe orchard window, and run and clapped my hand on his shoulder withouta thought of the creature ever crossing my mind. 

At any rate I took him in with me--that is, Boyd Connoway. I cannot saythat he wanted very much to go "before them Justices, " as he said. Butat least he preferred it to stopping outside. I think he was frightenedof my coming out again and slapping down my hand on his shoulder. Lordknows he need not have been, for I promised not to. At any rate he came, which was the main thing. 

He did not enjoy the ceremony, but stood before them with his blue coatwith the large rolling collar, which had been made for a bigger man, buttoned about his waist, and his rig-and-furrow stockings of green, with home-made shoes called "brogues, " the secret of making which he hadbrought with him from a place called Killybegs in County Donegal. He wasall tashed with bits of straw and moss clinging to him. His knees toowere wet where he had knelt in the marsh, and there was a kind of whiteshaking terror about the man that impressed every one. For Boyd Connowayhad ever been the gayest and most reckless fellow in the parish. 

When he was asked if he knew anything about the matter he onlystammered, "Thank you kindly, Doctor, and you, General, and hoping thatI have the honour of seein' you in good health, and that all is wellwith you at home and your good ladies and the childer!"

The General, who thought that he spoke in a mood of mockery, cautionedhim that they were met there on a business of life and death, and werein no mood to be trifled with. Therefore, he, Boyd Connoway, had betterkeep his foolery for another time!

But the Doctor, being by his profession accustomed to diagnose the moodsof souls, discerned the laboured pant of one who has been breathed by along run from mortal terror--who has, as my father would have said, "ridden a race with Black Care clinging to the crupper"--and took Boydin hand with better results. He agreed to tell all he knew, on beingpromised full and certain protection. 

And it was something like this that he told his story, as it proved theonly direct evidence in the case, at least for many and many a day. 

"Doctor dear, " he began, "ye are a married man yourself, and you willnot be misunderstanding me when I ask that anything I may say shall notbe used against me?"

The Fiscal looked up quickly. 

"I warn you that it will, " he said, "if you have had any hand in thismurder!"

"Murder, is it?"--(Boyd Connoway gave a short grunting laugh)--"Aye, maybe, but 'tis not the murder that has been, but the murder that willbe, if my wife Bridget gets wind of this! That's why I ask that itshould be kept between ourselves--so that Bridget should not know!"

"Women, " said the Fiscal oracularly, "must not be allowed to interferewith the evenhanded and fearless administration of justice. "

"Then I take it, " said Boyd, with a twinkle of the old mirth flickeringup into his white and anxious face, "that your honour is not a marriedman!"

"No, " said the Fiscal, with a smile. 

"Then, if I may make so bould, your honour knows nothing about how it is'twixt Bridget and me. His riverence the Doctor now----"

"Tell us what you know without digressions, " said the Fiscal; "no usewill be made of your evidence save in pursuing and bringing to justicethe criminal. "

"He's gone, " said Boyd Connoway solemnly, "and a good riddance to theparish!"

"Wha-a-at?" cried the three magistrates simultaneously. And the Fiscalstarted to his feet. 

"Who has gone?" he cried, and mechanically he drew from his pocket asilver call to summon his constables from the kitchen, where my unclesand they were having as riotous a time as they dared while so many greatfolk sat pow-wowing in the parlour near at hand. 

"Who?" repeated Boyd Connoway, "well, I don't know for certain, butperhaps this little piece of paper will put you gentlemen on the track. "

And he handed over a letter, much stained with sea-water and sand. Theheel of a boot had trodden upon and partly obliterated the writing, theink having run, and the whole appearance of the document being somewhatdraggle-tailed. 

But there was no doubt about the address. That was clearly written in afine flowing English hand, "To His Excellency Lalor Maitland, lateGovernor of the Meuse, Constable of Dinant, etc. , etc. _These_"--

We all looked at each other, and the Fiscal began to doubt whether thenew evidence as to the suspected murderer would prove so valuable afterall. 

"Your Excellency" (the letter ran), "according to the promise made toyou, the lugger _Bloomendahl_, of Walchern, Captain Vandam, has beencleared of cargo and is exclusively reserved for your Excellency's use. It will be well, therefore, to dispatch your remaining business inScotland, as it is impossible to send back the _Golden Hind_ or a vesselof similar size without causing remark. At the old place, then, a littleafter midnight of Thursday the 18th, a boat will be waiting for you atthe eastern port or the western of Portowarren according to the wind. The tide is full about one. "

"How came you by this?" the Fiscal demanded. 

"Shall I tell ye in bits, sorr?" said Boyd, "or will ye have her fromthe beginning?"

"From the beginning, " said the Fiscal, "only with as few digressions aspossible. "

"Sure, " said Boyd innocently, "I got none o' them about me. Your honourcan saarch me if ye like!"

"The Fiscal means, " said the Doctor, "that you are to tell him the storyas straightly and as briefly as possible. "

"Straightly, aye, that I will, " said Boyd, "there was never a crookedword came out of my mouth; but briefly, that's beyond any Irishman'spower--least of all if he comes from County Donegal!"

"Go on!" cried the Fiscal impatiently. 

"As all things do in our house, it began with Bridget, " said BoydConnoway; "ye see, sorr, she took in a man with a wound--powerful sickhe was. The night after the 'dust-up' at the Big House was the time, andshe nursed him and she cured him, the craitur. But, whatever the betterBridget was, all that I got for it was that I had to go to Portowarrenat dead of night, and that letter flung at me like a bone to a dog, whenI told him that I might be called in question for the matter of mywife. "

"'Aye, put it on your wife, ' says he, 'they will let you off. _You_ havenot the pluck of a half-drowned flea!'

"But when I insisted that I should have wherewith to clear me andBridget also, he cast the letter down, dibbling it into the pebbles andsand with his heel just as he was going aboard. 

"'There, ' he cried, 'now you can put it on me!'"

"Lalor Maitland, " said the Fiscal, ruminating, with his brow knit at theletter in his hand. "Where is that maid? Bring her here!"

I sprang away at once to knock on Irma's door, and bid her come, becausethe great folk were wanting her. And it seemed as if she had beenexpecting the summons too, for she was sitting ready close by littleLouis. She cast a white shawl about her shoulders, crossed the kitchenand so into the room where the four gentlemen were sitting about thetable--the Fiscal with his papers at the end, and behind the curtainsdrawn close about the press-bed where lay that which it was not good foryoung eyes to see. 

"Miss Maitland, will you describe to us your cousin, Lalor Maitland, ofwhom you have already spoken to me?"

It was the Doctor who took her hand, while on the other side BoydConnoway in his flapping clothes of antique pattern with brass buttonsstood waiting his turn. Irma took one look about which I intercepted. And I think my nod together with the presence of my grandmother gave hercourage, for she answered--

"Lalor Maitland? What has he to do with us? He shall not have us. Wewould kill ourselves if we could not run away. You would never think ofgiving us up to him----?"

"Never while I am alive!" cried my grandmother, but Dr. Gillespie signedto her to be silent. 

"Will you describe him to us?" suggested the Doctor suavely, "what sortof a man, dark or fair, stout or spare, how he carries himself, what hecame over to this country for, and where he is likely to have gone, ifwe find that he has left it?"

Irma thought a moment and then said, "Perhaps I shall not be quite justbecause I hated him so. But he was a man whom most call handsome, thoughto me there was always something dreadful about his face. His hair wasdark brown mixed with grey. His features were cut like those of astatue, and his head small for his height. He was slender, light on hisfeet, and walked silently--_ugh_--yes, like a cat. "

The Fiscal looked an interrogation at Boyd Connoway. 

"That is the man, " he answered unhesitatingly, "though most of the timewhile he stayed with Bridget and me he kept his bed. Only from the wayhe got along the cliff by Portowarren, I judge he was only keeping outof sight and by no means so weak with his wound as he would have had usbelieve. "

"And tell us what you saw of him yesterday, Wednesday?"

It was the Fiscal who asked the question, but I think all of us held ourbreaths to catch Boyd Connoway's answer. He shook his head with adisconcerted air like a boy who is set too hard a problem. 

"I was from home most of the day, and when I came in, with a hungersharp-set with half-a-dozen hours struggling with the wind, Bridget bademe be off at once to the Dutchman's Howff, which is in Colvend, justwhere the Boreland march dyke comes down to the edge of the cliff. I wasto wait there on the edge of the heugh till one came and called me byname. When I complained of hunger, she put some dry bread into my hand, crying out that I might seek meat where I had worked my work. 

"I saw that the 'ben' room was empty, and the blankets thrown over thethree chair backs. But when I asked where the sick man was, Bridgetstamped her foot and bade me attend to my business and she would takecare of hers. But Jerry, my oldest boy, had a word with me before I leftfor the march dyke. He told me that the man 'down-the-house' had gonethat morning as soon as my back was turned, after paying his mother ingold sovereigns, which she had immediately hidden. 

"So I went and waited by the Boreland march dyke--a wild place whereeven the heather is laid flat by the wind. The gulls and corbies werecalling down the cliff, and at the foot the sea was roaring through anarrow gully and spreading out fan-shaped along the sands of theDutchman's Howff. 

"I waited long, having nought to eat except the sheaf of loaf bread Igat with such an ill grace from Bridget, and at the end I was beginningto lose patience, when from the other side of the gully I heard a cryingand a voice bade me follow the dyke upwards and stand by to help. 

"So upon the top of the wall I got, and there beneath me was the man Ihad last seen lying in Bridget's best bed, cossetted and cared for asif he were a prince. But for all that he was short and angry, bidding medispatch and help him or he would lose his tide. "

"And did he wear the same clothes as when last you saw him?" saidShepstone Oglethorpe, with a shrewd air. 

At which Boyd Connoway laughed for the first time since he had come intothe presence of his betters. 

"No, " he said, "for the last time I saw him he was under the sheets withone of my sarks on, and Bridget's best linen sheet tied in ribbons abouthis head. "

"And how, then, was he dressed?" said the Fiscal, with a glance of scornat Shepstone. 

"Oh, " answered Boyd Connoway, "just like you or me. I took no particularnotice. More than that, it was an ill time for seeing patterns, beingnigh on to pit mirk. He bade me lead the way. And this, to the best ofmy knowledge and ability, I did. But the track is not canny even in thebroad of the day. Mickle worse is it when the light of the stars and theglimmer o' the sea three hunder feet below are all that ye hae to guideye! But the man that had been hidden in our 'ben' room was aye for goingon faster and faster. He stopped only to look down now and then for ariding light of some boat. And I made so bold, seeing him that anxious, as to tell him that if it were a canny cargo for the Co'en lads, waitingto be run into Portowarren, never a glim would he see. "

"'You trust a man that kens, ' I said to him, 'never a skarrow will wink, nor a lantern swing. The Isle o' Man chaps and the Dutchmen out yonderhave their business better at their fingers' ends than that. But I willtell ye what ye may hear when we get down the hill by the joiner'sshop--and that's the clink o' the saddle irons, and the waff o' theirhorses' lugs as they shake their necks--them no liking their heads tiedup in bags. '

"'Get on, ' he said, 'I wish your head were tied up in a bag!' And hetugged at my tail-coat like to rive it off me, your honour. 'Set me onthe shore there at Portowarren before the hour of two, or maybe ye willget something for your guerdon ye will like but ill. '

"This was but indifferent talk to a man whose bread you have been eating(it is mostly porridge and saps, but no matter) for weeks and weeks!

"We climbed down by the steep road over the rocks--the same that Will ofthe Cloak Moss and Muckle Sandy o' Auchenhay once held for two hoursagain the gaugers, till the loaded boats got off clear again into deepwater. And when we had tramped down through the round stones that wereso hard on the feet after the heather, we came to the edge of the seawater. There it is deep right in. For the tide never leavesPortowarren--no, not the shot of a pebble thrown by the hand. Bendinglow I could see something like the sail of a ship rise black against thepaler edge of the sea. 

"Then it was that I asked the man for something that might clear me if Iwas held in suspicion for this night's work--as also my wife Bridget. 

"After at first denying me with oaths and curses, he threw down this bitpaper that I have communicated to your worship, and in a pet trampled itinto the pebbles among which the sea was churning and lappering. Hepushed off into the boat, sending it out by his weight. 

"'There, ' he cried back, 'let them make what they will of that if ye becalled in question. And, hear ye, Boyd Connoway, this I do for the sakeof that hard-working woman, your wife, and not for you, that are but acareless, idle good-for-nothing!'"

"Deil or man, " broke in my grandmother, who thought she had kept silencelong enough, "never was a truer word spoken!"

Boyd Connoway looked pathetically about. He seemed to implore some oneto stand up in his defence. I would have liked to do it, because of hiskindness to me, but dared not before such an assembly and on so solemnan occasion. 

"I put it to the honourable gentlemen now assembled, " said BoydConnoway, "if a man can rightly be called a lazy good-for-nothing whenhe rose at four of the morning to cut his wife's firewood----"

"Should have done it the night before, " interrupted my grandmother. 

"And was at Urr kirkyard at ten to help dig a grave, handed the serviceof cake and wine at twelve, rung the bell, covered in the corp, andsodded him down as snug as you, Mr. Fiscal, will sleep in your bed thisnight----!"

"That will do, " said the Fiscal, who thought Boyd Connoway had had quiteenough rope. "Tell us what happened after that--and briefly, as I saidbefore. "

"Why, I went over to Widow McVinnie's to milk her cow. It calved onlylast Wednesday, and I am fond of 'beesten cheese. ' Besides, thescripture says, 'Help the widows in their afflictions'--or words to thateffect. "

"After this man Lalor Maitland had got into the boat, what happened?"

The Fiscal spoke sharply. He thought he was being played with, when, infact, Boyd was only letting his tongue run on naturally. 

"Nothing at all, your honour, " said Boyd promptly. "The men in the boatjust set their oars to the work and were round the corner in a jiffey. Iran to the point by the narrow square opening into the soft sandstonerock, and lying low on my face I could see a lugger close in under theheugh of Boreland, where she would never have dared to go, save that thewind was off shore and steady. But after the noise of the oars in therowlocks died away I heard no more, and look as I would, I never saw thelugger slip out of the deep shadow of the heughs. So, there beingnothing further to be done, I filled my pockets with the dulse thatgrows there, thin and sweet. For nowhere along the Solway shore does oneget the right purple colour and the clean taste of the dulse as in thatof Portowarren, towards the right-hand nook as you stand looking up thebrae face. "

Having tendered this very precise indication to whom it might concern, Boyd bowed to the company and took his leave. 

 * * * * *

The Fiscal was for holding him in ward lest he should escape, being sucha principal witness. But the three Justices knew well that there was nodanger of this, and indeed all of them expressed their willingness to gobail for the appearance of Boyd Connoway whenever he should be wanted. 

"And a great many times when he is not!" added my grandmother, with tartfrankness. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE SHARP SPUR

Though, therefore, the mystery remained as impenetrable as ever, I thinkthat the fact of the absence of Lalor Maitland put new vigour into allof us. Richard Poole was buried in Dumfries, where all the "good jovialfellows" of a dozen parishes gathered to give him an impressive funeral. The firm closed up its ranks and became merely Messrs. Smart and Smart. There was a new and loquacious tablet in St. Michael's relating indetail (with omissions) the virtues and attainments of the deceased Mr. Richard. But of the other Mr. Poole, calling himself Wringham Pollixfen, not a trace, not a suggestion, not a suspicion of his whereabouts had heleft behind since he stepped out of our window into the dark. 

But, nevertheless, in Eden Valley the air was clearer, the summer daylonger and brighter, and the land had rest. It was an impressive daywhen Irma brought Louis to my father's school. The Academy remembers ityet. 

The morning had opened rather desolately. With the dawn the slate-greyfingers of the rain clouds had reached down, spanning from Criffel toScreel. The sea mist did what faith also can do. It removed mountains. One after another they faded and were not. A chillish wind began to blowup from the Solway, and even in Eden Valley was heard the distant roarof the surf, through the low pass which is called the Nick of Benarick. The long grass first stood in beads and then began to trickle. Flowersdrooped their heads if of the harebell sort, or stood spikily defiantlike the yellow whin and the pink thistle. 

I had got ready cloaks and hoods, you may be sure. I was on the spot atmy grandmother's door a full hour before the time. Within I found MaryLyon raging. Neither of the bairns should go out of her house on such aday! What for could they not be content to take their learning fromDuncan and Agnes Anne? Miss Irma, she was sure, was well able to teachthe bairn. It was all a foolishness, and very likely would end insomething uncanny. If it did--well, let nobody blame her. She had liftedup her testimony, and thrown away her wisdom on deaf ears. 

Which, indeed, was something not unlike the case. 

For just then the sun shone out. The clouds divided to right and left, following the steep purpling ridges on either side of Eden Valley--andin the middle opening out a long sweet stream of brightness. LittleLouis clapped his hands. He ached for the company of his kind. He talked"boys. " He dreamed "boys"--not grown-up boys like me, but children ofhis own age. He despised Irma because she was a girl. Only Agnes Annecould anyways satisfy him, when she put on over her dress a pair of hergrandfather's corduroy trousers, buttoned them above her shoulder, andpretended to give orders as in the pirn-mill. Even then, after a happyhour with the toys which Agnes Anne contrived for him, all at once Louisgrew whimpering disappointedly, stared at her and said, "You are not areal little boy. "

And I, who had the pick of the Eden Valley boys on my hand every time Iwent near my father's (and knew them for little beasts), wondered at histaste, when he could have Irma's company, not to speak of Agnes Anne's. But I resolved that I should keep a bright look-out and make the littlevillains behave. For at an early age our Eden Valley boys were justsavages, ready to mock and rend any one of themselves who was a littlebetter dressed, who wore boots instead of clogs with birch-wood soles, or dared to speak without battering the King's English out of allrecognition. 

My father and Miss Huntingdon would, of course, be ready to protect oursmall man as far as was in their power. But they, especially my father, were often far removed in higher spheres of work, while Miss Huntingdonwas never in the boys' playground at all. But I had none of thesedisabilities. I was instructed, sharp-eyed, always on the spot, withfists in good repair--armed, too, with a certain authority and the habitof using it to the full. 

So little Louis found himself among his boys. I picked him outhalf-a-dozen of the most peaceable to play with, after he had receivedhis first lesson from a very proud and smiling Miss Huntingdon. MissIrma, after being formally introduced to the school, left the sort ofthrone which had been set for her beside my father, to go and sit besideAgnes Anne at the top of the highest form of girls. 

Her presence made a hush among the elder boys, and such of the young menas happened to be there that day. For though we had scholars up to theage of twenty, most of these were at work during the summer and cameonly in the winter season--though in the interval betwixt sowing andhay-harvest and between that again and the ripening of the corn we wouldreceive stray visits from them, especially in the long wet spells ofweather. 

It was at noon and the girls were walking in their playground talkingwith linked arms, apart from the noisy sportings of the boys, when Icaught my first glimpse of Uncle Rob. He was standing right opposite theschool in the big door of the Eden Valley Mill. I wondered what he wasdoing there, for it was not the season for grinding much corn. Besides, it would have been handier to send it down and call for it again duringsuch a busy season on the farm. 

So I ran across and asked him what he was doing there. I could hardlyhear his answer, for the loud _plash-plash_ of the buckets of water asthey fell into the great pool underneath the wheel. 

I understood him, however, to say that it was open to me to attend to myown business and leave him to look after his. 

In a moment the demon of jealousy entered into my soul. Could it be thathe came there to be near Irma--Irma, whom I had fought for and savedhalf-a-dozen times over all by myself--for it is not worth while goingback to what Agnes Anne did, as it were, accidentally. I was so angry atthe mere thought that there and then I charged him with his perfidy. Helaughed a short, contemptuous laugh. 

"And what for no, " he answered; "at least _I_ have a trade at myfinger-ends. I can drive a plough. I can thresh a mow. At a pinch I caneven shoe a horse. But you--you have quit even the school-mastering!"

I do not know whether or not he said it unwittingly or with intent tosting me. But at any rate the thrust went home. I could hardly wait tillmy father had got through with his work that night, and was stretched inhis easy-chair, his long pipe in one hand and a volume of Martial in theother. I broke in upon him with the words, "Father, I want to go tocollege with Freddie Esquillant!"

My father looked at me in surprise. I can see him still staring at mebemazed with his pipe half-way to his mouth, and the open book laid facedownward upon his knee. 

"Go to college--you?" His surprise was more cutting than Uncle Rob'smockery. Because, you see, my father knew. That is, he knew myscholarship. What he did not know was how much of my grandmother'sspirit there was in me, and how I could keep working on and on if I hadthe chance. 

"You have thought of this long?" he asked. 

"No, father!"

"Ah, well, what put it into your head?" he asked kindly. 

This I could hardly tell him without entering into my furious foolishjealousy of Uncle Rob, his waiting at the mill, and our exchange ofwords. So I only said, "It just came to me that I would like to getlearning, father!"

"Ah, yes, " he meditated, "that is mostly the way. It is like heavenlygrace. It comes to a man when he least expects it--the desire forlearning. We seek it diligently with tears. It comes not. We wake in themorning and lo! it is there!"

It is characteristic of my father that even then he did not concernhimself about ways and means. For at the colleges of our land are"bursaries" provided by pious patrons, once poor themselves, and oftenwith a thirst for knowledge unquenched--boys put too early to the benchor the counter. Now my father had the way of winning these for hispupils. He did not teach them directly how to gain them, but he suppliedthe inspiration. 

"Read much and well. Get the spirit. Learn the grammar, certainly. Butread Latin--till you can speak Latin, think Latin. It is more difficultto think Greek. Our stiff-necked, stubborn Lowland nature, produce ofhalf-a-score of conquering nations, has not the right suppleness. But ifthere is any poetry in you, it will find you out when you readEuripides. "

So though certainly I never got so far--the verbs irregular giving me adistaste for the business--at least I fell into line, and in duetime--but there I am anticipating. I am writing of the day, thewonderful day when the sharp spur of Uncle Rob's reproach entered intomy soul and I resolved to be--I hardly knew what. A band of little boys, all eager to see the pirn-mill in the Marnhoul wood, volunteered toaccompany Louis home. They went on ahead, gambolling and shouting. AgnesAnne would have come also, but I suggested to her that she had betterstay and help her mother. 

She gave me one look--not by any means of anger. Rather if Agnes Annehad ever permitted herself to make fun of me, I should have set it downto that. But I knew well that could not be. She stayed at home, contentedly enough, however. 

I went home with Irma. I did so because I had the cloaks and hoods tocarry. Also I had something to tell her. It seemed something soterrible, so mighty, so full of risk and danger that my heart failed mein the mere thinking of it. I was to go away and leave her, for manyyears, seeing her only at intervals. It seemed a thing more and moreimpossible to be thought upon. 

At the least I resolved to make myself out a martyr. It would be a blowto Irma also, and the thought that she would feel it so almost made upto me for my own pain, an ache which at the first moment had been ofthe nature of a sudden and deadly fear. 

Yet I might have saved myself the trouble. Irma looked upon the matterin a very different light. She was not moved in the least. 

"Yes, of course, " she said, "you are only wasting your time here. Menmust go out and see things in the world, that afterwards they may dothings there. Here it is very well for us who have no friends andnowhere else to go. But as soon as Louis is at school or has to leaveme--oh, it will happen in time, and I like looking forward--I shall gotoo. "

"But what could you do?" I cried in amazement, for such a thing as agirl of her rank finding a place for herself was not dreamed of then. Only such as my grandmother and Aunt Jen worked "in the sphere in whichProvidence had placed them, " as the minister said in his prayer. 

"Never trouble your head, " said Irma, "there never was a Maitland yetbut gat his own will till he met with a Maitland to counter him!"

"Lalor!" I suggested. At the name she twisted her face into anexpression of great scorn. 

"Lalor!" she said; "well, and have I not countered him?"

She had, of course, but as far as I remembered there was something to besaid about another person who had at least helped. Now that is the worstof girls. They are always for taking all the credit to themselves. 

It was a grave day when I quitted Eden Valley for the first time. Everyone was affected, the women folk, my mother, my grandmother, even AuntJen, went the length of tears. That is, all with only two exceptions, myfather and Miss Irma. My father was glad and triumphant--confidentthat, though never the scholar Freddie Esquillant was bound to be, I wasyet stronger in the more material parts of learning--those which mostpleased the ordinary run of regents and professors. 

I had already seen Irma early in the morning in that clump of treesbeyond the well where the flowering currants made a scented wall, and inthe midst the lilac bushes grow up into a cavern of delicately tinted, constantly tremulous shade. 

I told her of my fears, whereat she scorned them and me, bidding me goforward bravely. 

"I have never promised to be anybody's friend before, " she said; "Ishall not break my word!"

"But, Irma, " I urged, for indeed I could not keep the words back, theybeing on the tip of my tongue, "what if in the meantime, when I am awayso far and seeing you so little, you should promise somebody else to bemore than a friend!"

She stood a moment with the severe look I had grown to fear upon herface. Then she smiled at me, at once amused and forgiving. 

"You are a silly boy, " she said; "but after all, you are but a boy. Youwill learn that I do not say one thing one day and another the next. There--I promised you a guerdon, did I not? That is the picture of mymother. You can open the back if you like!"

I set my thumb-nail to it, and there, freshly cut and tied with a pieceof the very blue ribbon she was wearing, lay a lock of her hair, a curlcuriously and as it seemed wilfully twisted back upon itself, as if ithad refused to be so imprisoned--just, in fact, like Irma herself. 

I should have kissed her hand if I had known how, but instead I kissedthe lock of hair. When I looked up I am afraid that there was mostunknightly water in my eyes. 

"Come, " she said, "this will never do. There must be none of that if youare to carry Irma Sobieski's pledge. Stand up--smile--ah, that isbetter. Look at me as if I were Lalor Maitland himself, rather than cryabout it. You have my pledge, have you not--signed, sealed, anddelivered? There!"

But how the legal formula was carried out by Miss Irma is nobody'sbusiness except our own--hers and mine, I mean. But at all events I wentforth from the lilac clump by the well, and picked up my full water canswith a heart wondrously strengthened, and so up the path to Heathknoweswith a back straight as a ramrod, because of the eyes that I knew werewatching me through the chinks in the wall of summer blossom. 

CHAPTER XXIV

THE COLLEGE OF KING JAMES

I arrived at Edinburgh with the most astonishing ache in my heart (or, at least, in the parts adjoining), and had I met with the leastpitifulness I think I should have broken down entirely. But I found avery necessary stimulus in the details of the examination for thebursary. I had no doubt as to being nominated, but when the results wereposted I felt shame to be whole three places in front of FreddieEsquillant, my master in all real scholarship, almost as much as myfather was--but who, on the day of trial, had spent his time inanswering thoroughly half-a-dozen questions without attempting theothers. 

At any rate it was none such bad news to send by the carrier, who put upat the Black Bull in the Grassmarket, down to my mother and grandmotherin Eden Valley. I wrote to them separately, but to my father first, because he understood such things and I knew that his heart was set onFreddie and myself, though he thought (and rightly) that I was a mereclodhopper at my books compared to Fred. As far as the classics went, myfather was in the right of it. But then Freddie could not write English, except in a kind of long-winded, elaborate way, as if he weretranslating from Cicero, which very likely was the case. 

Well, the need of keeping my head for the examiners' questions, themending of my pens, the big barren room with the books about and theother fellows scribbling away for dear life, the landladies in thisclose and that square, with faces hardened and tempers sharpened bygenerations of needy students, out of whom they must nevertheless maketheir scanty livings, the penetrating Edinburgh airs, the thinness of mycloak and the clumsiness of my countrified rig--these all kept mesingularly aware of myself, and prevented any yielding to the folly ofhomesickness, or, as in my case, "Irma-sickness, " to give the troubleits proper name. 

After long search I took up my lodging in a new house at the end ofRankeillor Street, in a place where there was the greenness of fieldsevery way about, except behind in the direction of the college. It wasthe very last house, and from my garret window I could see the top ofArthur's Seat and the little breakneck path feeling its way round thefoot of the Salisbury Crags, afterwards to be widened into the"Radicals' Road. " Southward all was green and whaup-haunted to the greyhip of Pentland, and we saw the spread of the countryside when we--thatis, Freddie and I--went down the Dalkeith Road to the red-roofed hamletof Echobank. Here, four times a week we bought a canful of milk that hadto do us two days. For there was something about the taste of the townmilk that scunnered us--Freddie especially being more delicatelystomached than I. 

Here, too, was a red-cheeked serving maid who provoked us--but moreespecially poor Fred, who asked nothing better than that the wenchshould let him alone. But I cared not so greatly--though, of course, shewas nothing to me. How could she be with the gage of Miss Irma hardunder my armpit, just where the Eden Valley tailor had placed my insidepocket?

Which reminds me that Fred, fluttering the leaves of his lexicon, ormooning over his beloved Greek verses (which the professor discouragedbecause he could not make as good himself), would sigh a little ghostof a sigh as often as he saw me take it out and lay it on the tablebeside me like a watch. For long I thought it was because he feared itwould make me neglect my work, but now, looking back, I can see withgreat clearness that it was because he felt that love and suchlike wereruled out of his life. It was quite a year before I first mentioned Irmato him by name. Yet he never asked, nor showed that he noticed at all, save for that quick, gentle sigh. 

As portrayed in the miniature, Irma's mother was a gentle fair-hairedwoman, with a face like a flower sheltered under a broad-brimmed whitebeaver hat, the very mate and marrow of those I have since seen in thepictures by the great Sir Joshua. She had a dimpled chin that nested ina fluffy blurr of lace. She was as unlike as possible to my dear braveIrma, with her curls like shining jet, and the clean-cut, decisiveprofile. But I saw at once from whom Baby Louis had gotten his fair softcurls, his blue eyes, and the wistful appeal of his smile. They werealways before me as I sat with my elbows on the ink-splattered table, and I did all my work conscious of the rebellious twist of raven curlthat was on the other side. I did not open this often, only when bymyself, and then with extreme care, for the glass, being old, was alittle loose, and it seemed as if the vivid life in the swirl of hairactually moved it out of its place. For even so much of Irma as a curlof her locks perforce retained something of her extraordinary vitality. 

It often used to come to me that Irma must be like her father overagain, only with all his faults turned to good, strengthened by thedetermination he lacked. She had his restlessness, his brilliancy, hispower over men and women. Only along with these she had strength toguide herself (which he, poor man, never had), and enough over for mealso. And I have my father's word and my own consciousness that I neededthat guidance. 

College life is strange and solitary at these northernuniversities--especially at those in the two great cities of Edinburghand Glasgow. The lad comes up knowing perhaps one other of his age andstanding. If he has a family one or two elder students will be orderedby their people to look him up. Seldom do they repeat the visit. Theircircle is formed. They want no "yellow nebs. "

For the rest he is alone, protected from the devil and the young lustsof the flesh by the memory of his mother, perhaps by the remembrancethat about that time his father is striving hard to pinch to pay hisfees, but lastly, chiefly and most practically by those empty pockets. 

If he have a family in the town, he is hardly a student like the others. He has his comrades within cry, his houses of call, girls here and therewhom he has met at dances in friendly houses, sisters and cousins of hisown or of his friends--in short, all the machinery of social life tocarry him on. 

But for the great majority life is other and sterner. As Miltonlamenting his blindness, the stranger student mourns wisdom and life "atone entrance quite shut out. " The influence of women, sweeter than thatof the Pleiades, is absent, save in the shape of seamy-facedgrim-mouthed landladies, or, in a favourable case, which was ours (ormight have been), our red-cheeked, frank-tongued, oncoming wench in themilk-house at Echobank, and the baker's daughter across the way. 

The first result of this is a great outbreak of sentimentality among thecallowlings. They have pictures (oh, such caricatures!) to carry inbreast-pockets--or locks of hair, like mine. Their hearts areinflammable as those of the flaxen-haired youths I met afterwards in theuniversities of Germany, only living on oatmeal, without sausages, andless florid with beer. Yet on the whole, the aforesaid empty purseaiding, we were filled with not dishonest sentiment, keen assleuth-hounds on the track of knowledge, and disputatious as only ladsof Calvinistic training can be. 

Our landladies were much alike, our rooms furnished with the sameSpartan plainness. Only in Mistress Craven I happened on a good one, andabode with her all the days of my stay at College, till the way openedout for me to wider horizons and a humaner life. 

But I can see the room yet, and the narrow passage which led to it. Here, close to the door, was a clock with a striking apparatus ofsurprising shrillness to warn us of the flight of the half-hours. "Ting!" another gone! Then, as the hour drew near, this academic clockcleared its decks for real action--almost it might be said that itcleared its throat, such a roopy gasping crow did it emit. This wastechnically called "the warning. "

And three times a day at the sound of it we rose, gathered our books andfled fleetfoot for the college. The clock at Mistress Craven's was setten minutes fast, so as to leave us time to flee down the Pleasance, dodge through a side alley, cut Simon's Square diagonally, debouch uponDrummond Street (shunning Rutherford's change-house, with its "kittle"step down into the cellar), and lo! there, big, barren, grey, grave, cauldrife as a Scots winter, was the College of King James--with thebell, unheard in the side-streets, fairly "gollying" at us--an appallingvolume of sound--yet one which, on the whole, we minded less than theskirl and rasp of Mistress Craven's family clock. 

I have been speaking for myself. Fred Esquillant was always in time, easy, quiet, letting nothing interfere with his duty. But for me I wasnot built so. I watched for adventure and followed it. The dog I had metyesterday looked not in vain for a pat. A girl waved a kerchief to thestudent passing with the books under his arm. She did not know me, nor Iher. But in the general interests of my class I had to waveback--without prejudice, be it said, to the black lock behind theminiature in my pocket. 

We came back, as we had occasion, from our classes to the crowded stairof our "land"--with its greasy handrail, and the faint whiff of humanityclinging about the numbered doorways. Our key grated in the lock. Mrs. Craven opened the kitchen door with a cry that our dinners would beready in a jiffey. We were done with the world for the day. Henceforthfour walls contained us. Many books lay tumbled about, or had to beheaped on the floor whenever the half of the table was laid for a meal. 

I sat farthest from the fire, but facing it. Above and directly beforemy eyes was a full-rigged ship, sailing among furious painted billowsdirectly against the lofty cliffs of a lea-shore, the captain on thebridge regarding this manoeuvre with the utmost complaisance. Beneathwas a china shepherdess without the head--opposite a parrot with a bunchof waxen cherries in its beak. 

When we took the room, the backs of the chairs had been covered withnewly-washed embroidery in raspy woollens and starched linen thread. There had also been a tablecloth, and upon it (neatly arranged by Mrs. Craven's daughter Amelia) a selection of the family "good books"--towit, the Holy Bible containing entries of the Craven family, with thedates of birth altered or erased, Josephus with steel pictures, the_Saint's Rest_ and some others. These had at once been removed, according to agreement made before taking possession, and now, wrappedin the tablecloth, reposed in a cupboard. 

Only _The Cloud of Witnesses_ and Fox's _Martyrs_ were spared at myspecial request. As for Freddie, he needed no other literature than histext-books, and set himself to win medals like one who had been fittedby machinery for that purpose. 

Mrs. Craven was an Englishwoman who had brought herself to this bymarrying a carter from Gilmerton. So she retained a pleasant habit ofcurtseying which her daughter, born in Edinburgh and given to snuffingup the east wind, did not in the least strive to imitate, so far atleast as we were concerned. 

But on the whole those rooms in Rankeillor Street were pleasant and evenmodel lodgings. Many a fine gentleman settled in the new town faredworse, even artistically. We had on the wall in little black frames manybrowned prints by a man of whom we had never heard, one Hogarth by name, some of the details of which made Freddie blush and me laugh aloud. Butthese doubtful subjects were counterbalanced by an equal numberillustrative of the Pilgrim's Progress, beginning at the sofa-back withthe Slough of Despond, going through the Wicket Gate, past fierce GiantPope and up craggy Hills of Difficulty to a flaming Celestial Cityapparently being destroyed by fire with extreme rapidity. 

In a glass-fronted corner cupboard were memorials of the late Mr. Craven. To wit, a large punch-bowl, remarkable for having melted down aflourishing business in the "carrying" way, four pair of horses withwagons to match, a yard and suitable stabling, and, finally, Mr. Craven, late of Gilmerton, himself. 

On the top shelf was all that remained of the tea-service he hadpresented to his "intended" when he was still at the head of theGilmerton "yard"--she being at the time lady's-maid at Dalkeith Palaceand high in favour with "her Grace. " Much art was needed in dustingthese and arranging them to make cups and saucers stand so that theirchipped sides would not show. 

I was strictly forbidden ever to dance, flap my long arms, or otherwisedisport myself near this sacred enclosure, as I sometimes did when theblood ran high or the temperature low. As for Freddie, he could do nowrong. At least, he never did. I was in despair about him, and foresawtrouble. 

As to situation, we had the Meadows behind us, and (except the Sciennesand Merchiston), all was free and open as far as Bruntsfield and theBorough Muir. But towards Holyrood and the College, what a warren! Youentered by deep archways into secluded yards. Here was a darksomepassage where murder might be (and no doubt had been) done. Here was anechoing gateway to a coaching inn, with a watchman ready to hit evilboys over the head with his clapper if they tried to ring his bell, thebell that announced the arrival of the Dumfries coach "Gladiator" afterthirty hours' detention at the Beeftub in Moffatdale, or the shorterbreathed "four" from Selkirk and Peebles that had changed horses last atCockmuir Inn at the back of Kingside. 

All this I describe so minutely, once for all, because there is more tocome of it, and these precincts on the southern border of Edinburgh, where Cromwell had once encamped, were mightily familiar to me beforeall was done. 

CHAPTER XXV

SATAN FINDS

Of course Christmas time soon came, when we collegers had our firstvacation, and Fred and I footed it down to Eden Valley. They had beenpreparing for us, and the puddings, white and black, hung in rows alongthe high cross-bars in the kitchen. 

Everybody was glad to see us, except, as it appeared at first, MissIrma. I called her Irma when I thought of the round locket with the hairand her mother's picture in it, also the letters she had sent me--thoughthese were but few, and, for all that was in them, might have beenwritten to the Doctor. But when I returned and met her full in thedoorway of my grandmother's house, she gave me her hand as calmly as ifshe had clean forgotten all that had ever been between us. 

For me, I was all shaken and blushing--a sight to be seen. So much sothat Aunt Jen, coming in with the milk for the evening's porridge, cocked an eye at me curiously. But if Irma felt anything, I am very surethat it did not show on her face. And that is one of the greatestadvantages girls have--care or not care, they can always hide it. 

My mother shed tears over me. My father took stock of my progress, andasked me for new light on certain passages we had been reading, but soondeserted me with the familiar contemptuous toss of the head, which meantthat he must wait for Fred Esquillant. He might have learned by thistime. At anything practical I was miles ahead of Freddie, who had noworld outside of his classical books. But then my father was of the sametype, with, in addition, the power of imparting and enthusing strong inhim--_his_ practical side, which Freddie did not possess--indeed, neverfelt the lack of, much less the ambition to possess. He was content toknow. He had no desire to impart his knowledge. 

I spent six mornings and five evenings out of my scanty twenty days atthe little thicket by the well. But the lilac was leafless now, and thepath which led back to the house of Heathknowes empty and deserted. 

Once while I was in hiding my Uncle Rob came and stood so long by hiswater-pails, looking across the hills in the direction of the CraigFarm, that I made sure he had found me out, or was trying for a talkwith Miss Irma on his own account. 

But Rob, as I might have known, was far too inconstant. As the sayingwent, "He had a lass for ilka day in the week and twa for the Sabbath. "It is more than likely that his long rumination at the well was theresult of uncertainty as to whether it was the turn of Jeannie at theCraig or Bell down by at Parkhill. 

At any rate, it had no connection with me, for he went off home with hisburden, where presently I could hear him arranging with Eben as to thefoddering of the "beasts" and the "bedding" of the horses. For my threeuncles kept accounts as to exchanges of work, and were very careful asto balancing them, too--though Rob occasionally "took the loan" ofgood-tempered Eben without repayment of any sort. 

After my fifth solitary vigil among the rustling of the frozen stems andthe dank desolation of the icebound copse on the edge of the marsh, Ibegan to go about with a huge affectation of gloom on my face. It wasclear that I was being played with. For this I had scorned thered-cheeked dairy-lass at Echobank, and the waved kerchiefs of thebaker's daughter opposite. And the more unhappy and miserable I looked, the closer I drew my inky cloak about me, the gayer, the morelight-hearted became Miss Irma. 

I plotted deep, dark, terrible deeds. She urged me to yet another helpof dumpling. She had made the jam herself, she said. Or theshortbread--now there _was_ something like shortbread, made after arecipe learned in Brabant! (I wondered the word did not choke her, thinking of Lalor--but, perhaps, who knew? she would not after all be sounwilling!) I had shed my blood for naught--not that I had really shedany, but it felt like that. I had gone forth to conquer the world forthe sake of a faithless girl--though, again, I had not even done quitethat, seeing that Freddy Esquillant bade fair to beat me in all theclasses--except, perhaps, in the Mathematic, for which he had no taste. But the principle was the same. I was deserted, and my whole aspectbecame so dejected that my mother spoke to my father about my killingmyself in Edinburgh with study, which caused that good (and instructed)man to exclaim, "Fiddlesticks!" Then she went to my grandmother, whoprescribed senna tea, which she brewed and stood by till I had drunk. Iresolved to wear my heart a little less on my sleeve, and always afterthat assured my grandmother that I was feeling very well indeed. Also Imade shift to eat a little, even in public, contriving it so, however, that the effort to appear brave and gay ought to have been evident evento Miss Irma. 

Every day Louis and she went to the Academy, and I went with them, oneof the uncles--generally Eben, the universally disposable--following tothe village with a loaded pistol in his tail-coat pocket. 

For though there had been, as yet, no more than the ordinary wintertraffic by the well-recognized Free Traders of the Solway board, no mancould tell when the lugger from the Texel, or even the _Golden Hind_herself might try again the fortune of our coasts. The latter vessel hadbeen growing famous, multiplying her captures and cruelties; indeed, behaving little otherwise than if she carried the black flag with theskull and cross-bones. And though a large part of his Majesty's navy hadbeen trying to catch her, hardly a monthly number of the _ScotsMagazine_ came to my father without some new exploit being deplored inthe monthly chronicle over near the end. 

Nearer home, Messrs. Smart and Smart had offered by post to occupythemselves with the future of the young baronet Sir Louis, on conditionthat he should be given up to them to be sent to school, but in theircommunication nothing was said about Miss Irma. So my grandfather sentword that, subject to the law of the land, he would continue to protectboth the children whom Providence had placed in his care. And this wasdoubtless what the Dumfries lawyers expected. The care and culture ofthe estate during a long minority was what they thought about as beingmost to their advantage, and it was quite evident that little Louis, forthe present, could hardly be better situated than at Heathknowes. Messrs. Smart and Smart sent a man down to spy out the land, on pretextof offering compensation, but his report must have been favourable bothas to the security of the farm-town and as to my grandfather's reputefor generosity and open-handedness. For he did not return, and as topayment, nothing more was ever heard at Heathknowes about the matter. 

The young people were now quite fixtures there, and though they werespoken of as Miss Irma and Master Louis, Irma had carried her mainpoint, which was that they should be treated in all respects as of thefamily. The sole difference made was that now the farm lads and lasses, and the two men from the pirn-mill (whom my grandfather's increasingtrade with the English weavers had compelled him to take on), had theirmeals at a second table, placed crosswise to that at which the familydined and supped. But this was chiefly to prevent little Louis fromoccupying himself with watching to see when they would swallow theirknives, and nudging his neighbours Irma and Aunt Jen to "look out, " atany particular dangerous and intricate feat of conjuring. 

As for me, I could not at all understand why Irma cold-shouldered meduring these first Christmas vacations, and indeed I had secretlyresolved to return no more to the house of Heathknowes till I had madesure of a better reception. I began to count it a certainty that Irma, feeling that she had gone too far and too fast with me before I wentoff, was now getting out of the difficulty by a régime of extraordinarycoldness and severity. And if that were the case, I was not the man tobaulk her. 

For about this time a man I began to count myself. 

Worst of all, going home to the school-house there came into my head oneof the most stupid ideas that had ever got lodging there--though, according to my grandmother, I am rather a don at harbouring suchlike. 

It occurred to me that a plan I had read of in some book or other mightsuit my case. If I could only make Irma jealous, the tables might beturned, and she become as anxious and desirous of making up as I was. 

It seemed to me a marvellously original idea. Irma had cared enough togive me her mother's miniature. She had cut off a lock of her hair, which she had not done for all the world of her admirers--else she wouldlong have gone bald. 

Now it happened that though there were a good many dressmakers in EdenValley, including some that worked out for so much a day, there was onlyone Ladies' Milliner and Mantua-maker. This was the sister of ourinfant-mistress, Miss Huntingdon. Her establishment was in itself a kindof select academy. She had an irreproachable connection, and though sheworked much and well with her nimble fingers, she got most of her labourfree by an ingenious method. 

She initiated into her mysteries none of the poorer girls of the place, who might in time be tempted to "set up for themselves, " and so spoiltheir employer's market. She received only, as temporary boarders, daughters of good houses, generally pretty girls looking forward withsome confidence to managing houses of their own. At that time every girlwho set up to be anything in our part of the country aspired to make herown dresses and build the imposing fabric of her own bonnets. 

So Miss Huntingdon had a full house of pretty maidens who came as"approvers"--a fanciful variation of "improvers" invented by MissHuntingdon herself, and used whenever she spoke of "My young ladies, "which she did all day long--or at least as often as she was called intothe "down-stairs parlour, " where (as in a nunnery) ordinary business wastransacted. 

A good many of the elder girls whom I had known at the Academy hadmigrated there at the close of their period of education--several who, though great maidens of seventeen or eighteen, had hardly appeared uponmy father's purely classical horizon--seen by him only at the Friday'sgeneral review of English and history, and taught for the rest of theweek by little Mr. Stephen, by myself--and in sewing, fancy-work, andthe despised samplers by Miss Huntingdon, the ever diligent, who, tosay the truth, acted in this matter as jackal to her elder sister'slion. 

In return she got a chamber, a seat at the table with the young ladies, and a home. Nor will I say that Miss Seraphina, Ladies' Milliner andMantua-maker, was not a good and kind sister to Miss Rebecca, the littleteacher at thirty pounds a year in the Infant Department at the Academyof Eden Valley. 

But my mother in her time--Aunt Janet, even--had passed that way, thoughMiss Huntingdon considered Jen one of her failures because she had not"married from her house. " Most of the well-to-do farmers within tenmiles sent their daughters to complete their education at MissHuntingdon's academy of the needle and the heavy blocking-iron. Myfather, when he passed, did not know them, so great in his eyes wastheir fall. Yet by quiet persistence, of which she had the secret, mymother wore him down to winking at her sending Agnes Anne there forthree hours a day. 

"I'm sure, " she said, "I used to watch for _you_ every time you went byto school, and one day the frill of your shirt sleeve was hanging down, torn on a nail. I was sorry, and wished that I could have run out andmended it for you!"

What this reminiscence had to do with Agnes Anne's being allowed to goto Miss Huntingdon's I do not quite see. But learned men are much likeothers, and somehow the little speech softened my father. So Agnes Annewent, as, indeed, my mother had resolved from the beginning that sheshould. And it was through Agnes Anne that my temptation came. 

She made a friend there. Agnes Anne always must have one bosom friend ofher own sex. For this Irma was too old, as well as too brilliant, toofitful, fairylike, changeful in her mood to serve long. Besides, sheawed Agnes Anne too much to allow her to confide in her properly. Andwithout hour-long confessions all about nothing, Agnes Anne had no usefor any girl friend. There was an unwritten convention that one shouldlisten sympathetically to the other's tale of secrets, no matter howlong and involved, always on the supposition that the service should bemutual. 

Charlotte Anderson was the name of Agnes Anne's friend. In a week's timethese two were seldom separate, and wandered about our garden, and underthe tall pine umbrellas with bent heads and arms lovingly interlaced. Charlotte was a pretty girl, blooming, fresh, rosy, with a pair of boldblack eyes which at once denied and defied, and then, as it were, suddenly drooped yieldingly. I was a fool. I might have known--only Idid not. 

Now my idea was to make just as much love to Charlotte as would warnMiss Irma that she was in danger of losing me and to assist me in this(though I did not reveal my intention of merely baiting my trap withher) who more willing than Charlotte Anderson!

But I had counted without two somewhat important factors--Miss Irma, andMiss Seraphina Huntingdon. I was utterly deceived about the character ofIrma, and I had no idea of the extreme notions of rigid propriety uponwhich Miss Seraphina conducted her business, nor of the explanation ofthe large proportion of successful weddings in which the ladymantua-maker had played the part of subordinate providence. 

Indeed, certain of the light-minded youth of Eden Valley called theparlour with the faded red velvet chairs by the name of "LittleHeaven"--because so many marriages had been made there. 

CHAPTER XXVI

PERFIDY, THY NAME IS WOMAN!

Old Robert Anderson of Birkenbog was known to me by sight--a huge, jovial, two-ply man, chin and waistcoat alike testifying to good cheer. He wore a large horse-shoe pin in his unstiffened stock. A watch thatneeded an inch-thick chain to haul up its sturdy Nuremburg-egg build, strained the fob on his right side, as if he carried a mince-pieconcealed there. His laugh dominated the market-place, and when he stoodwith his legs wide apart pouring a sample of oats slowly from one handinto the palm of the other, his red face with the cunning quirks in ithad always a little gathering of admirers, eager for the nexthigh-spiced tale. He had originally come from the English border, and inhis "burr" and accent still bore token of that nationality. 

Nevertheless, he had his admirers, some of them fervent as well asconstant. 

Cochrane of the Holm would be there, his hand on the shoulder ofBlethering Johnny from the Dinnance. These two always laughed before aword was uttered. They thought Birkenbog so funny that everything hesaid was side-splitting even before he had said it. 

I remember being a great deal impressed myself by Old Birkenbog. He wasa wonderful horseman as a boy, and when he came to the market alone herode a big black horse of which even the head ostler stood in awe in theyard of the King's Arms. Once he had thrashed a robber who had assailedhim on his way to pay his rent, and had brought him into town trottingcross-handed at his horse's tail, the captive of his loaded whip andstout right arm. It is doubtful if this draggled Dick Turpin, lying inBridewell, appreciated Birkenbog's humour quite so much as did Cochraneand Blethering Jock when he told them the story afterwards. 

If I had any common-sense I might have seen that Birkenbog was not asafe man to trouble in the matter of an only daughter, without the mostserious intentions in the world. But, truth to tell, I never thought ofhim knowing, which was in itself a thing quite superfluous andaltogether out of my calculations. I had had some small experience ofgirls even before Miss Irma came to change everything. And the fruit ofmy observations had been that, though girls tell each other's secretsfreely enough, they keep a middling tight grip on their own. Nay, theycan even be trusted with yours, in so far as these concernthemselves--until, of course, you quarrel with them--and then--well, then look out!

Certainly I found lots of chances to talk to Charlotte. In fact AgnesAnne made them for me, and coached me on what to say out of books. Alsoshe cross-examined Charlotte afterwards upon my performances, andsupplemented what I had omitted by delivering the passage in full. Mypoor version, however, pleased Charlotte just as much, for merely being"walked out" gave her a standing among Miss Seraphina's young ladies, who asked her what it felt like to be engaged. 

All had to be gone about in so ceremonious a manner, too, at least atfirst--when I made my formal call on Miss Huntingdon, who received me inher parlour with prim civility, as if I had come to order a leghorn hatof the best. 

"My mother's compliments, and might Miss Charlotte Anderson be allowedto accompany Agnes Anne to tea at four hours that day? I would beresponsible--yes, I knew Miss Huntingdon to be most particular upon thispoint--for the convoy of the young ladies to the school-house, and wouldsee Miss Anderson safe home again. "

My mother winked at these promenades, because in her heart of hearts shewas more than a little jealous of Irma. Charlotte Anderson she couldunderstand. She was of her own far-off kin, but Irma and her brother haddescended upon us, as it were, from another world. 

Why Agnes Anne meddled I cannot so well make out, unless it were themania which at a certain age attacks most nice girls--that ofdistributing their brothers among their dearest friends--as far, thatis, as they will go round. 

So Charlotte and I walked under the tall firs of the Academy wood in thehope that Irma might be passing that way. I escorted her home in fullsight of all Eden Valley--that was always on the look-out for whatevermight happen in the way of courtship about the shop of the famousmantua-maker. 

And yet (I know people will think I am lying) never, I say, did I findMiss Irma so desirable in my eyes as when I saw her at Heathknowesduring these days of folly. It was not that she was kinder to me. Sheappeared not to think of me either one way or the other. She curtsied tome, like a bird, flirting the train of her gown like a wagtail on astone by the running stream. One forenoon she met us, strolling withlittle Louis by the hand, her black hair crowned with scarlethips--those berries of the wild dog-rose which grow so great in ourcountry lanes. She waved us a joyous little salute from the top of astile, on which she perched as lightly as if joyful graces werefluttering about her, and she herself ready to take wing. 

But she never so much as looked wistful, but let me go my way with asingle flirt of a kerchief she was adjusting about her brother's neck. As for me I was ready to hang myself in self-contempt and hatred of poorinnocent Charlotte Anderson, who smiled and imagined, doubtless, thatshe was fulfilling the end for which she had come to Miss Huntingdon's. 

After we had separated I went to thinking sadly on the stupidity of myperformances. This field of thought was a large one and theconsideration of it, patch by patch, took some time. It was market day. The bleating of flocks was about me, a pleasant smell of wool and tarand heather--and of bullocks blowing clouds of perfumed breath thatcondensed upon the frosty air. I was leaning my arms upon the stone dykeof the Market Hill and thinking of Irma, now by my own act rendered moreinaccessible than ever--when a hand, heavy as a ham falling from a highceiling, descended upon my shoulder. A voice of incomparable richness, alittle husky perhaps with the morning's moistening at the King's Arms, cried out, "So ho, lad! thou dost not want assurance! Thinking on thelasses at thy age! You're the chap, they tell me, that's been walkin'out my daughter in broad daylight! Well, well, cannot find it in myheart to be too hard--did the like mysel' thirty years ago, and neverregretted it. School-master's son, aren't ye? Thought I kenned ye bysight! Student lad at the College of Edinburgh? Yes, yes--knew thyfather any time ever since he came from the North. No man has anythingto say again thy father! Except that he does not lay on the youngrascals' backs half heavily enough! I dare say thou would be noways theworse of a dressing down thysel'!"

All this time he was thumping me on my back, and I was standing beforehim with such a red face, and (I doubt not) such a compound of idiocyand black despair upon it, that I might have been listening to my doombeing pronounced by the mouth of some full-blooded, jovial red judge, with a bunch of seals the size of your fist dangling from his fob andthe loaded whip with which he had brought down the highwayman, under hisarm. 

"Come thou up to the King's Arms!" he cried; "don't stand there lookinglike a dummy. Let's have the matter out! Thour't noan shamed, surely!There's no reason for why. At thy age, laddie--hout-hout--there's nowrong as young folks go. Come thy ways, lad!"

Obediently I followed in his wake as he elbowed a way through the crowd, salutations pouring in upon him on every side. 

"Ah, Birkenbog, what's brought you into the market this day--sellin'lambs?"

"That's as may be--buyin' calves more belike!"

This was for my benefit, and the old brute, tasting his sorry jest, turned and slapped me again, winking all the time with his formidablebrows in a spasmodic and horrible manner, that was like a threat. 

Now, I did not mind Lalor Maitland or Galligaskins when my blood was up. But now it was down--far down--indeed in my very boots. 

All the time and every step of the way, I was trying in a void and emptybrain to evolve plans of escape. I could only hear the rich port-winechuckle of that great voice, and watch the gleam of those huge silverspurs. 

And so presently we came to the King's Arms. Never was bold wooer in amore hopeless position. Whichever way I turned the case wasdesperate--if I resisted, I could not expect to fare better than TamHaggart, whom that whip shank had beaten to the ground on the Corse o'Slakes. If I let myself drift, then farewell all hope of Irma Maitland. 

I hesitated and was lost. But who in my place could have betteredit--save by not being such a portentous fool to begin with? But whenthat is in a man, it will out. 

I entered the King's Arms meekly, and before I knew what I was doing Ihad been presented to three or four solid-thighed, thick-headed, stout-legginged farmers as "Our Lottie's intended. " They laughed, andcame near to shaking my hand off. I felt that if I backed out afterthat, I never could show my face in Eden Valley again. 

Then we proceeded to business. I had not been accustomed to drinkanything stronger than water, and I was not going to begin now--so muchof sense I had left in me. So as often as the mighty farmer of Birkenboghad his tankard pointed at the cornice of the commercial room of theKing's Arms, I poured the contents of mine carefully among the sawduston the floor. 

And then my formidable "future" father-in-law got to the root of thematter. 

"Father know about this?" He shot out the question as from a catapult. 

"No, sir, " said I, "I did not think of troubling him just yet--till----"

"Till what?"

"Till things were a bit more settled, " I faltered. He put his looselyclenched fist on my knee. It appeared as large as the flat part of apair of smith's bellows. 

"Well, that's what we are here now for, eh?" he said. "I doan't blameye, you young dog. Now I like a fine up-standing wench myself, wellfilled out, none o' your flails done up in a bean-sack, nor yet atea-pot little body that makes the folk laugh as they see her trottingalongside a personable man like me. Lottie will do ye fine. She's nonegreat at the books--takes after her mother in that, but she's a goodgirl, and I'll warrant ye, she will keep up her end of an argument wellenough after a year or two's practice. But, mind you, lad, there's to benothing come of this till I see you safe through college as a doctor. Fees? Nonsense! Go to the hospitals, man, I'll pay for that part. It cancome off what I have put aside to give the man that took Lottie off myhands! A doctor--yes, that's the business, and one sore needed here inthis very Eden Valley! _Whisht_--there--who think ye bought old AndrewLeith's practice and house? Who keeps the lads from the college thereand sends them packing at the end of every six months? Why, me--Andersonof Birkenbog. So haste ye fast, and when ye are ready, the house isready, and the practice and the tocher--and as for the lass ye have madeit up with her yourself, as I understand. "

Never was there a poorer-spirited wooer! No, never one. The very pour ofwords stunned me. Had it not been for the coming and going ofDutch-girthed brother-farmers, dumping bags of "samples" on the table, and hauling at purses tied with leathern strings out of tight breechespockets, the "What's your will, sir?" of Tom the drawer, and the clinkof cannikins, I must have been found out even then. 

But the part of the trouble which was to be mine personally was comingto an end. After all, his daughter's future was only an item inBirkenbog's programme of the day. 

"Well, then, lad"--he clapped me again on the shoulder (I sitting therewith the soul of an oyster)--"we have arranged everythingcomfortable--eh? Now you can go and tell Lottie. Aye, and ye can say toMiss--what's her name--Thimbolina, the old dowager with thecorkscrews--with my compliments, that there's a sweet-milk cheeseripening on the dairy shelves for her at Birkenbog. Hear ye that, lad?"

I took my leave as best I could. I felt I had hopelessly committedmyself. For though I had not said a word, I had not dared to reveal tothis fierce father, that being in love with another, I had been usinghis daughter as a stalking horse. 

"And, look here, Duncan lad, " he said, "I'll just step up and have aword with your father. The clearer understanding there is betweenfamilies on such like arrangements, the less trouble there will be inthe future!"

And he strode away out into the yard, halting, however, at the door tocall out in a voice that could be heard all over the neighbourhood, "Come thy ways up to Birkenbog on Sunday and take a bit o' dinner wi'us! Then thou canst see our Lottie and tell her how many times sweetershe is than a sugar-plum! Ho, ho!"

He was gone at last and I fairly blushed myself down the street, pushingmy way between the ranks of the market stalls and the elbowing farmers. 

"Are ye blind or only daft?" one apple wife called out, as I shook herrickety erection of trestles and boards. She was as red in the face asBirkenbog himself, for a cur with a kettle tied to its tail had takenrefuge under her stall, and she had been serving a writ of ejectmentwith the same old umbrella with which she whacked thievish boys andsheltered her goods on rainy days. 

But I heeded not. I was seeking solitude. I felt that I wanted nothingfrom the entire clan of human beings. I had lost all that I should everreally love. Irma--Irma! And here was I, settled for life with one forwhom I cared not a penny!

By the time I had reached this stage, I had come out upon the bare woodsthat mount the path by the riverside. I came to the great holly, a caveof green shade in summer, and now a warm shelter in these tall solitudesof wattled branches standing purple and black against the winter sky. 

Ah, there was some one there already. I stepped out again quickly, butnot too fast to see that it was Charlotte Anderson herself I hadstumbled upon--_and that she was crying_!

CHAPTER XXVII

"THEN, HEIGH-HO, THE MOLLY!"

"Charlotte!" said I, taking in a sudden pity a step nearer and holdingout my hand; but she only snatched her arm away fretfully and cried themore bitterly. 

"Has your father been speaking unkindly to you?" I asked her, being muchsurprised. 

She shook her head, and a wet handkerchief plashed on my hand like a sobas she shook it out. 

"What is it, then?" I asked, more and more amazed at the turn thingswere taking. Never had I thought for a moment that Charlotte would notbe as pleased and happy to have me as I was the reverse. 

"Oh, " she burst out at last, sobbing between each hurried phrase, "Idon't blame you, Duncan. It's all that horrid old cat, MissSeraphina--Diabolina, the girls call her--she writes everything we do toour people at home. She's always writing, and she spies on us, too, andlistens--opens our letters! She has brought all this on me----"

"Brought what on you?" I inquired blankly. 

"Having to marry you and all!" she said, and had recourse to her wethandkerchief again. But that being altogether too sodden to afford herany relief, she signalled to me, as if I had been Agnes Anne or anothergirl, to pass her mine. Fortunately for once I could do so withoutshame. For Miss Irma had been teaching me things--or at least the desireto appear well in her eyes. 

Charlotte Anderson did not appear to notice, but went on crying. 

"And don't you want to marry me, Lottie?" I said softly, taking herhand. She let me now, perhaps considered as the proprietor of thehandkerchief. 

"Of course I don't, " said she. "Oh, how could I?"

Now this, considered apart, was certainly hurtful to my pride. For, having frequently considered my person, as revealed in my mother's bigSunday mirror, I thought that she could very well. On my side there wascertainly nothing to render the matter impossible. Moreover, how aboutour walks and talks! She had, then, merely been playing with me. Oh, Perfidy, thy name is Woman!

I was silent and paused for an explanation. I soon got it, considered asbefore, as the sympathetic owner of the handkerchief. 

"It's Tam Galaberry, " she said, "my cousin, you know, Duncan. He used tocome to see me ... Before ... Before you! But his sister went toDumfries to learn the high-class millinery, and since then MissSeraphina cannot thole him. As if he had anything to do with that. Andshe wrote home, and my father threatened Tam to shoot him with the gunif he came after me--all because we were cousins--and only seconds atany rate. Oh-h-h-h! What _shall_ I do?"

I had to support Charlotte here--though merely as handkerchief-holderand in the purest interests of the absent Mr. Thomas Gallaberry. 

But the relief to my own mind, in spite of the hurt to my pride, wasimmediate and enormous. But a thought leaped up in my heart which cooledme considerably. 

"Oh, Lottie, " I said, as sadly as I could, "you have been false anddeceitful. You have come near to breaking my heart----"

"I ken I have--I ken I have!" she cried. "Oh, can you ever forgive me?"

"Only, Charlotte, " I answered nobly, "because I care for your happinessmore than for my own!"

"Oh, Duncan, but you are good!" She threw herself into my arms. I reallythink she mistook me for Agnes Anne for the moment. But any consolationsI applied were, as before, in the interests of Tam Gallaberry. 

"I knew I was wicked and wrong all the time, " she said, "but when wewalked out, you remember the dyke we used to lean against" (she glancedup at me with simple child-like eyes, tear-stained), "you must remember?Well, one of the stones was loose. And Tam used to put one letter there, and I took it out and slid it in my pocket, and put mine back the same!Agnes Anne was looking the other way, of course, and you--you----"

"Was otherwise employed than thinking of such deceit!" I said grandly. 

"You were kissing me! And I let you--for Tam's sake, " Charlottemurmured, smiling. "Otherwise the poor fellow would have had five milesto come that next day, and I could not bear that he should not find hisletter!"

"No!" I answered dryly, "it would certainly have been a pity. "

She looked at me curiously. 

"Do you know, " she said, "I always thought that _you_ were playing, too!"

"Playing!" I exclaimed tragically. "Is it possible? Oh, Lottie!"

"Oh, I just thought it, " she said remorsefully. "I am sorry if it wastrue--if you do really care about me so much--as all that!"

I was still thinking of Tam Gallaberry. So apparently was she. 

Virtue is its own reward, and so is mutual consolation. It is veryconsoling. Half the happy love stories in the world begin that way--justwith telling about the unhappy ones that went before. You take my wordfor it--I, Duncan MacAlpine, know what I am talking about. CharlotteAnderson too. 

So finally, after a while, I became very noble and said what a finething it was to give up something very precious for others. And I askedher if she could think of anything much nobler than willingly to give upas fine a girl as herself--Charlotte Anderson--for the sake of TamGallaberry? She thought awhile and said she could not. 

So I told her we must keep up appearances for a time, till we had madeour arrangements what to do. Charlotte said that she had no objectionsas long as Tam Gallaberry did not know. So I said that she could write along letter that very night, and give it to Agnes Anne in the morning, and I would go out to the stone, and put it underneath. 

Then she cried, "Oh, will you?" And thanked me ever so sweetly, askingif, when I was about it, would I bring back the one I found there andsend it to her by my sister, in another envelope--"just over the top, you know, without breaking the seal. Because such letters were sacred. "

I said she need not trouble herself. I was only doing all this for hersake. I did not want to see what another man had to say to her!

And, if you will believe me, she was delighted, and said, "Now I knowthat you were not all pretending, but do care for me a little wee bit!"

Indeed, Charlotte was so delighted that it was perhaps as well for thesmooth flowing of their love story that Tam Gallaberry was at thatmoment investigating their joint post office. For Lottie was a generousgirl when her heart was moved, and though she kept the grand issuesclear, she often confused details--as, for instance, whether thehandkerchief was mine or my sister's, and whether I was myself or TamGallaberry. 

But I considered such slips as these pardonable at twenty. At that ageforgetfulness is easy. Afterwards the prison doors close, and now I amnot mistaken for Tam Gallaberry any more--and what is more, I don't wantto be. However, after a while I brought Charlotte to earth again, out ofthe exaltation of our mutual self-sacrifice, by the reminder that atthat moment our fathers would be arranging as to our joint future--andthat without the least regard for our present noble sentiments, or thoseof the happily absent Mr. Thomas Gallaberry. 

She got down and looked at me, affrighted, her lips apart, and allpanting like a bird newly ta'en in the hand. 

"Oh, Duncan, " she cried, "you will help me, won't you? You see how fondI am of you!"

I saw, exactly, but refrained from telling her that she had a strangeway of showing it. 

"I would do anything in the world for you, " she added, --"only I want tomarry Tom. Ye see? I have always meant to marry Tom! So I can't help it, can I?"

Her logic had holes in it, but her meaning was starry clear. I thankedher, and said that the best thing we could do was to take counseltogether. Which we did there under the shelter of the great holly-bush. So much so that any one passing that way might have taken us for foolishlovers, instead of two people plotting how to get rid the one of theother. 

What helped the illusion greatly was that it was a cold day, with everynow and then a few driving flecks of snow. I had on a great roughInverness cloak of my father's, far too large for me. I asked Charlotteif she were warm. She said she was, but did not persist too much in thestatement. So we left Tom Gallaberry out of the question, and setourselves to arrange what we were to say to our two fathers. 

"It will be terrible hard to pretend!" I said, shaking my head. 

"It will be a sin--at least, for long!" she answered. 

I exposed the situation. There was to be no immediate talk of marriage. Even her father had allowed that I must get through college first. Hewas to pay my fees as a doctor. I did not want to be a doctor. Besides, I could not take her father's money----

Here Charlotte turned with so quick a flounce that she nearly landedherself in the little gutter which I had made with my stick to carry offthe drainage of the slope behind. 

"Not take the money? Nonsense!" she cried. "Father has more than heknows what to do with!"

She paused a while, finger on lip, meditating, the double ply ofcalculation, stamped on her father's brow, very strongly marked on hers. 

"Look here, Duncan, " she said caressingly, like a grown woman wooing toget her own way, so deep her voice was, "daddy is giving you that moneybecause you are going to marry me, isn't he?"

I signed, as well as I could, that Mr. Robert Anderson of Birkenbogconsidered himself as so doing. 

She clapped her hands and cried out, as if she had stumbled on thesolution of some exceedingly difficult problem, "Why, then, take themoney and give it to Tom! He needs it for his farm--oh, just dreadful. He says the hill is not half stocked, and that a hundred or two moreewes would just be the saving of him!"

"But, " said I, "I shall be entering into an agreement with your father, and shall have to give him receipts!"

"Well, " she continued boldly, "Thomas will enter into an agreement withyou, if he doesn't marry me--that is, if I am left on your hands--hewill pay you the money back--or else give you the sheep!"

It will hardly be believed the difficulty I had to make Charlotte seethe impossibility--nay, the dishonesty of an arrangement which appearedso simple to her. She thought for a while that I was just doing it outof jealousy, and she sulked. 

I reasoned with her, but I might as well have tried logic on theGallaberry black-faced ewes. She continued to revolve the project in herown mind. 

"Whatever you--I mean _we_--can get out of father is to the good, " shesaid. "He will never miss it. If you don't, I will ask him for the moneyfor your fees myself and give it to Tom----"

"If you do!" I cried in horror, --"oh--you don't know what you aretalking about, girl!"

"You don't love me a bit, " she said. "What would it matter to you?Besides, if it comes to giving a receipt, I can imitate your signatureto a nicety. Agnes Anne says so. "

"But, Charlotte, it would be forgery, " I gasped. "They hang people forforgery. "

"No, they don't--at least, not for that sort, " she argued, her eyes verybright with the working of her inward idea. "For how can it be forgerywhen it is _your_ name I write, and I've told you of it beforehand? It'smy father's money, isn't it, and he gives it to you for marrying me?Very well, then, it's yours--no, I mean it's Tom's because he means tomarry me. At least I mean to marry him. Anyway, the money is not myfather's, because he gives it freely to you (or Tom) for a certainpurpose. Well, Tom is going to be the one who will carry out thatpurpose. So the money is his. Therefore it's honest and no forgery!"

These arguments were so strong and convincing to Charlotte that I didnot attempt to discuss them further, salving my conscience by thethought that there remained his Majesty's post, and that a letteraddressed to her father at the Farmers' Ordinary Room, in care of theKing's Arms, would clear me of all financial responsibility. But this Itook care not to mention to Lottie, because it might have savoured oftreachery and disturbed her. 

On the other hand, I began urging her to find another confidant thanAgnes Anne. She would do well enough for ordinary letters which I was tosend on to Cousin Tom. But she must not know they were not for me. Shemust think that all was going on well between us. This, I showed her, was a necessity. Charlotte felt the need also, and suggested this girland that at Miss Seraphina Huntingdon's. But I objected to all. I had tothink quick, for some were very nice girls, and at most times would haveserved their country quite well. But I stuck to it that they were toonear head-quarters. They would be sure to get found out by MissHuntingdon. 

"It is true, " she meditated, "she _is_ a prying old cat. "

"I don't see anybody for it but Miss Irma, over at my grandmother's!" Isaid, boldly striking the blow to which I had been so long leading up. 

Charlotte gazed at me so long and so intently that I was sure she smelta rat. But the pure innocence of my gaze, and the frank readiness withwhich I gave my reasons, disarmed her. 

"You see, " I said, "she is the only girl quite out of the common run towhom you have access. You can go to Heathknowes as often as you likewith Agnes Anne. Nobody will say a word. They will think it quitenatural--to hear the latest about me, you know. Then when you are alonewith Miss Irma, you can burst into tears and tell her our secret----"

"All----?" she questioned, with strong emphasis. 

"Well, " I hastened to reply, "all that is strictly necessary for astranger to know--as, for instance, that _you_ don't want to marry me, and that _I_ never wanted to marry you----"

"Oh, " she cried, moving in a shocked, uneasy manner, "but I thought_you_ did!"

"Well, but--, " I stammered, for I was momentarily unhinged, "you see youmust put things that way to get Miss Irma to help us. She can doanything with my father, and I believe she could with yours too if shegot a chance. "

"Oh, no, she couldn't!"

"Well, anyway, she would serve us faithfully, so long as we couldn'ttrust Agnes Anne. And you know we agreed upon that. If you can think ofanything better, of course I leave it to you!"

She sat a long while making up her mind, with a woman's intuition thatall the cards were not on the table. But in the long run she could makeno better of it. 

"Well, I will, " she said; "I always liked her face, and I don't believeshe is nearly so haughty as people make out. "

"Not a bit, she isn't----" I was beginning joyously, when I caughtLottie's eye; "I mean--" I added lamely, "a girl always understandsanother girl's affairs, and will help if she can--unless she has herselfsome stake in the game!"

And in saying this, I believe that for once in a way I hit upon a greatand nearly universal truth. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

LOVE AND THE LOGICIAN

I knew that the Yule Fair was going on down in the village, and that onaccount of it all Eden Valley was in an uproar. The clamour wasdeafening at the lower end of the "clachan, " where most of the show folkcongregated. The rooks were cawing belatedly in the tall ashes round thebig square--into which, in the old times of the Annandale thieves, thecountry folk used to drive the cattle to be out of the way of Johnstonesand Jardines. 

I skirted the town, therefore, so as not to meet with the full blast ofthe riot. With such an unruly gang about, I kept Charlotte Anderson wellin sight till I saw her safe into Miss Seraphina's. Of course, nobodywho knew her for a daughter of Fighting Rob of Birkenbog would have laidhand upon her, but at such a time there might be some who did not knowthe repute of her father. 

The great gong in front of the "Funny Folks" booth went "Bang! bang!"Opposite, the fife and drum spoke for the temple of the legitimatedrama. At the selling-stalls importunate vendors of tin-ware rattledtheir stock-in-trade and roared at the world in general, as if buyerscould be forced to attend to the most noisy--which, indeed, they mostlydid. 

From the dusky kennels in which the gipsies told fortunes and mended therush-bottomed chairs of the Valley goodwives came over the wall a faintodour of mouldy hay, which lingered for weeks about every apartment towhich any of their goods were admitted. 

As for me, I had had enough of girls for one day, and I was wonderinghow best to cut across the fields, take a turn about the town, and soget home to my father's by the wood of pines behind the school, whensuddenly a voice dropped upon me that fairly stunned me, so unexpectedit was. 

"Mr. Duncan MacAlpine, " it said, "I congratulate you on your choice of afather-in-law. You could not have done better!"

It was Miss Irma herself, taking a walk in a place where at such a timeshe had no business to be--on the little farm path that skirts the woodsabove the town. Louis was with her, but I thought that in the fardistance I could discern the lounging shadow of the faithful Eben. 

I stood speechless straight before her, but she passed on, lightlyswitching the crisped brown stalks of last year's thistles with a littlewand she had brought. I saw that she did not mean to speak to me, and Iturned desperately to accompany her. 

"I will thank you to pass your way, " she said sharply. "I am glad youare to have such a wife and such a dowry. Also a father-in-law who willbe at the kind trouble of paying your college fees till you are quiteready to marry his daughter. It is a thing not much practised amonggentlefolk, but, what with being so much with your mantua-makers, youwill doubtless not know any better!"

"Irma--Irma, " I cried, not caring any more for Eben, now in the nearerdistance, "it is all a mistake--indeed, a mistake from the beginning!"

"Very possibly, " she returned, with an airy haughtiness; "at any rate, it is no mistake of mine!"

And there, indeed, she had me. I had perforce to shift my ground. 

"I am not going to marry Charlotte Anderson, " I said. 

"Then the more shame of you to deceive her after all!" she cried. "Itseems that you make a habit of it! Surely I am the last person to whomyou ought to boast of that!"

"On the contrary, you are the first!"

But she passed on her way, her head high, an invincible lightness in thespring of every footstep, a splash of scarlet berries making a staramong her dark hair, and humming the graceless lilt which told how--

 "Willie's ga'en to Melville Castle, Boots an' spurs an' a'--!"

As for me, I was ready to sink deep into the ground with despondency, wishful to rise never more. But I stopped, and though Uncle Eben wasalmost opposite to me, and within thirty yards, I called after her, "Theday will come, Irma Maitland, when you will be sorry for the injusticeyou are doing!"

For I thought of how she would feel when Charlotte told about her cousinTam Gallaberry and all that I had done for them--though, indeed, it wasmostly by accident. Only I could trust Charlotte to keep her thumb uponthat part of it. 

I did not know what she felt then, nor, perhaps, do I quite know yet;but she caught a tangle of wild cut-leafed ivy from a tree on which Ihad long watched it grow, and with a spray of small green leaves shecrowned herself, and so departed as she had come, singing as if she hadnot a care in the world, or as if I, Duncan MacAlpine, were the last andleast of all. 

And yet I judged that there might be a message for me in that very act. She had escaped me, and yet there was something warm in her heart inspite of all. Perhaps, who knows, an angel had gone down and troubledthe waters; nor did I think, somehow, that any other would step in therebefore me. 

After that I went down to see Fred Esquillant, who listened with sad yetbrilliant eyes to my tangled tale. 

"You are the lucky one, " I said, "to have nothing to do with the lasses. See what trouble they lead you into. "

He broke out suddenly. 

"Be honest, Duncan, " he said, "if you must boast! If you are bound tolie, let it not be to me. You would not have it otherwise. You would notbe as I am, not for all the gold of earth. No"--he held his breath along while--"no, and I, if I had the choice, would I not give all that Ihave, or am ever likely to have, for--but no, I'm a silent Scot, and Icanna speak the word----"

"I'm the other sort of Scot, " I cried, "and I'll speak it for you. Man, it's the first decent human thing I have ever heard come out o' yourmouth. You would give all for LOVE!"

"Oh, man, " he cried, snatching his fingers to his ears as if Iblasphemed, "are ye not feared?"

"No, I'm not, " I declared, truly enough; "what for should I be feared?Of a lassie? Tell a lassie--that ye--that ye----"

"No, no, " cried Fred Esquillant, "not again!"

"Well, then, that ye 'like' her--we will let it go at that. She willwant ye to say the other, but at least that will do to begin on. Andcome, tell me now, what's to hinder ye, Fred?"

"Oh, everything, " he said; "it's just fair shameless the way folk canbring themselves to speak openly of suchlike things!"

"And where would you have been, my lad, if once on a day your faitherhad not telled your mither that she was bonny?"

"I don't know, and as little do I care, " he cried. 

"Well, then, " said I, "there's Amaryllis--what about her?"

"That's Latin, " said Fred, waving his arm. 

"And there's Ruth, and the lass in the Song of Solomon!"

"That's in the Bible, " he murmured, as if he thought no better of theSacred Word for giving a place to such frivolities. 

"Fred, " I said, "tell me what you would be at? Would you have all womenslain like the babes of Bethlehem, or must we have you made into a monkand locked in a cell with only a book and an inkhorn and a quill?"

"Neither, " he said; "but--oh, man, there is something awesome, coarse-grained and common in the way the like o' you speak about women. "

"Aye, do ye tell me that?" I said to try him; "coarse, maybe, as ourfather Adam, when he tilled his garden, and common as the poor humanitythat is yet of his flesh and blood. "

"There ye go!" he cried; "I knew well that my words were thrown away. "

"Speak up, Mr. Lily Fingers, " I answered; "let _us_ hear what sort of aworld you would have without love--and men and women to make it. "

"It would be like that in which dwell the angels of heaven--where thereis neither marrying nor giving in marriage!"

"Well, " said I, "speaking for myself and most lads like me, we will mendour ways before we get a chance of trying that far country! And in themeantime here we are--our feet in the mire, and our heads not so verynear the sky. Talk of angels--where are we to get their society? And thelikest to them that I have ever heard tell of are just women--goodwomen, innocent lasses, beginning to feel the stir of their ownpower--and all the better and the stronger are they for that! Oh, Fred, I saw an angel within the last half-hour! There she stood, her eyesshooting witcheries, poised for flight like a butterfly, the dimplesplaying hide-and-seek on her face, and her whole soul and body saying tothe sons of men, 'Come, seek me on your knees--you know you can't helploving me! It is very good for you to worship me!"

"And you are not ashamed, Duncan MacAlpine, to speak such words?"

"Oh, ye Lallan Scot!" I cried; "ye Westland stot! Is there no hot bloodof the Celt in you? What brought _you_ to Galloway, where the Celt sitson every hill-top, names every farm and lea-rig, and lights hisBaal-fires about the standing stones on St. John's Eve?"

"Man, " said Fred, shaking his head, "I aye thought ye were a barbarian. Now I know it. If you had your way, you would raid your neighbours'womenfolk and bring them in by the hair of their heads, trailing themtwo at a time. For me, I worship them like stars, standing afar off. "

"Aye, " said I, "that would be a heap of use to the next generation, andthe lasses themselves would like it weel!"

But what Freddy Esquillant said about the next generation was unworthyof him, and certainly shall not sully this philosophic page. Besides, hespake in his haste. 

All the same, I noticed that, if ever any of the stars came near to hisearth, it would be a certain very moderately brilliant planet, bearingthe name of Agnes Anne or, more scientifically, MacAlpine Minima, whichwould attract Master Fred's reluctant worship. 

CHAPTER XXIX

THE AVALANCHE

And now there was a second and longer probation in that gaunt town ofEdinburgh, without any miniature to lie beside me on my work-table likea tickless watch, and help along the weary hours. And though the sessionbefore I had thought but little of the letters (and indeed there wasnothing in them), yet this time there were none at all, which suited mefar worse. For, as it seemed, the mere sight of the hand-of-write wouldhave cheered me. 

Henceforward I could only learn, as it were, by ricochet what was goingon. My grandmother never set pen to paper. Her tongue to guide wastrouble enough to her without setting down words on paper to rise up injudgment against her. True, my father wrote regularly to inquire if myprofessor had any new light on the high things of Plato, the Iberianflavour in Martial's Epigrams, and such like subjects which were betterfitted to interest a learned dominie who had lost the scholar of hischoice than to comfort a young fellow who has only lost his sweetheart. 

For her part Agnes Anne wrote me reams about Charlotte, but nevermentioned a word as to the Maitlands, though she did say that Charlottewas a good deal at Heathknowes, and (a trifle spitefully, perhaps) thatshe did not know what took her there unless it were to see Uncle Rob!This poor Uncle Rob of ours--his reputation was in everybody's mouth, certainly. He had been, so they said, a runagate, a night-raker, and inthe days of his youth a trifle wild. But now with the shadows of fortydeepening upon him, it was not fair that all the hot blood of his teensand twenties should rise up in judgment against him. Still so it was. And the reason of it was, he had not, as he ought, married and settled. For which sin of omission, as the gossips of Eden Valley said, "therewas bound to be a reason!"

Charlotte herself did not send a line, excepting always the letters Iwas to forward to Tom Gallaberry at his farm of Ewebuchts on the Waterof Ae. This at the time I judged unkind, but afterwards I found thatCousin Tom had insisted upon it, on the threat of going to her fatherand telling him the whole affair. For, in spite of all, Cousin Thomaswas jealous--as most country lads are of college-bred youths, and hepinned Charlotte carefully down in her correspondence. However, I madehim pay his own postages, which was a comfort, and as Agnes Anne andoften my father would slip their letters into the same packet, after allI had only the extra weight to pay. 

Still, I did think that some of them might have told me something ofIrma. But none did, till one great day I got a letter--from whom thinkyou? I give you fifty guesses--well, from my Aunt Jen. And it containedmore than all the rest put together, though all unconsciously, andtelling me things that I might have gone a long time ignorant of--if shehad suspected for a moment I was keen about them. 

 Heathknowes, this the thirteenth Aprile. 

 "Dear Nephew Duncan, "Doubtless you will be having so many letters that you will not be caring for one from a cross auld maid, who is for ever finding fault with you when ye are at home. But who, for all that, does not forget to bear ye up in the arms of her petitions before the Throne--no, night and morning both. 

 "This is writ to tell you that I have sent ye, by the wish of my mither, one cheese of seven pounds weight good, as we are hearing that you are thinking to try and find something to do in Edinburgh during the summer time. Which will be an advisable thing, if it be the Lord's will--for faint-a-hait do ye do here except play ill pranks and run the country. 

 "However, what comes o't we shall see. Also there is a pig of butter. It may be the better of a trifle more salt, that is, if the weather is onyway warm. So I have put in a little piece of board and ye can work the salt in yourself. Be a good lad, and mind there are those here that are praying for ye to be guided aright. Big towns are awful places for temptation by what they say, and that ye are about the easiest specimen to be tempted, that I have yet seen with these eyes. Howsomever, maybe ye will have gotten grace, or if not that, at least a pickle common-sense, whilk often does as well--or better. 

 "It's a Guid's blessing that ye have been led to stop where ye are. For that lassie Charlotte Anderson is going on a shame to be seen. Actually she is never off our doorstep--fleeing and rinning all hours of the day. At first I thought to mysel', it was to hear news of you. But she kens as weel as us when the posts come in, besides the letters she gets from Agnes Anne--some that cost as muckle as sevenpence--a ruination and a disgrace!" [Tom Gallaberry must have been prolix that week. ] "Then I thought it was maybe some of the lads--for, like it or no, ye had better ken soon as syne, that maiden's e'e is filled with vanity and the gauds o' grandeur, disdaining the true onputting of a meek and quiet spirit!

 "But, for your comfort, if ye are so far left to yourself as to take comfort in the like--and the bigger fool you--it is no the lads after all. It's just Irma Maitland!

 "I declare they two are never sindry. They will be out talk-talking, yatter-yattering when the kye are being milked in the morning. Irma makes her carry the water, that's one comfort. But I wonder at that silly auld clocking hen, Seraphina Huntingdon. It's a deal of work she will be getting, but I suppose the premium pays for all, and she will not care a farthing now that Charlotte's market is made. Not that I would trust you (or any student lad) the length of my stirabout potstick--or indeed (not to shame my own father) anything that wears hose and knee-breeches. And maybe that's the reason every silly birkie thinks he has the right to cast up to me that I am an auld maid. Faith, there's few that wear the wedding ring with whom I would change places. But what of that?

 "The folk are all well here, both bairns and grown folk, and we will be blithe to hear from you, and if you have the time to send a scraps of your pen to your auld maiden aunt, that mony a time (though Lord knows not half often enough) has garred your lugs ring for your misdeeds--she will be pleased to hear if the butter and cheese were some kitchen to your tasteless town's bread. 

 "Your obdt. Servt. And affectionate aunt, "Janet Lyon. "

From this information I hoped great things--at least a letter demandingpardon from Irma, or an account of how she had confessed all from thatgraceless and thankless forgetful besom Charlotte. But I heard nothingfurther till, one day going past after another, about a twelvemonthafter amazing word came. It was when I was busy with some literary workI had gotten from one of the printers in the town--correcting proofs andlooking out for misspellings in the compositions of an eminent hand. Iwill be plain--it was poor work, and as poorly paid. But I could live onit, and in any case it was better than slaving at tutoring. That is, astutoring was at that time in Edinburgh--a dull boy whom none could makeanything of, insolent servants, sneering elder sisters and a guinea amonth to pay for all. However, I tried it and made some of them stopsneering--at least the sisters. 

I was, I say, in the Rankeillor Street lodgings and Amelia was going outat the door with my tea-things--as usual calling me names for "idlingwithin doors" when Fred was out at his classes. Freddie had privatepermission from one of the professors to read in his library, so oftendid not come home till late. But I stuck to my arm-chair and myprinter's slips like a burr to homespun. Suddenly there was a greatnoise on the stairs. "There, " cries Amelia, "that's one of yourcountrymen, or I'm no judge of the Galloway bray!"

For, as I have indicated before, Amelia was far from imitating hermother's English politeness. 

The next moment the front door was driven in with a mighty brangeagainst the wall (for Amelia had been out the moment before on thelanding to throw some turnip-tops on the ash "backet"). A huge man inmany swathes of riding-coat dashed in and caught me by the throat. Amelia had the two-pronged carving fork in her hand, and seeing hermother's lodger (as she thought) in danger of being choked to death, without having regulated his week's bill, she threw herself upon myassailant and struck vehemently with the fork. 

The huge man in the many capes doubtless suffered no grievous harm. Ithad hardly been possible for a pistol-ball to penetrate such anarmature, but still the sudden assault from behind, and perhaps somesubtle feminine quality in Amelia's screams, made him turn about to seewhat was happening. 

The man was Fighting Anderson of Birkenbog himself, and he kept crying, "Where have you hidden her, rascal, thief? I will kill you, villain of ascribbler! It was because you were plotting this that you dare not showyour face in the country!"

But every time he threw himself upon me, Amelia, who did not want forspunk, dug at him with the two-pronged fork, and stuck it through somany plies of his mantle till he was obliged to cry out, "Here, lassie, lay down that leister, or ye will hae me like miller Tamson's riddle, that the cat can jump through back-foremost. "

After adjusting his coat collar he turned to me and demanded, in a moresensible and quiet way, what had become of his daughter. 

At the question, Amelia went into one of her foolish fits of laughterand cried out, "What, anither of them?"

Whereupon to prevent misunderstandings, I explained that the young ladywas my landlady's daughter, and a friend of Freddy Esquillant's. 

"Oh, you students, " he said, and sat down to wipe his brow, having seenfrom the most cursory examination of our abode, wholly open to the view, and exiguous at the best, that certainly Charlotte was not hidden there. 

"She left home three days syne as if to go to Miss Huntingdon's, " hesaid, "and ever since her mother has gone from one hysteric to another. So, knowing nothing better to do, and maybe judging you by myself in myown young days (for which I am sure I ask your pardon) I started out tomake sure that everything had been done decently and in order. Though assure as my name is Robert Anderson, I cannot think why you did not comeand wed the lass decently at home----"

We were at this point in our explanation, Amelia's ear was (doubtless)close to the back of the door, and Birkenbog was relapsing into hisfirst belief, when I heard the key in the lock and the light foot ofFreddy in the passage. 

It came as a huge relief, for here was my witness. 

He entered, and, seeing the visitor, bowed and deposited his books inthe corner. He was for going out again, doubtless thinking thatCharlotte's father and I were at business together. So, indeed, wewere--but not such as I wished to keep anyways private between us. Icould not, with any self-respect, go on depending any longer on Amelia'stwo-pronged fork. 

So I said, "Freddy, bear me witness that I have not been out of thehouse this week, except to go to the printer's with my work----"

"Fegs, " cried a voice through the jar of the door, "there is no need forFreddy to bear ye out in that. You have only to look at the carpet underthe legs of your chair. It has gotten a tairgin', as if all the hosts ofKing Pharaoh had trampled over it down to the Red Sea!"

But I would not keep the old man any longer in suspense. 

"I fear, Birkenbog, " I said, "that you have given yourself a bootlessjourney. From what I suspect, your flown bird will be nested nearerhome. "

"Where?" he cried; "tell me the scoundrel's name. "

"Fairly and soothly, Birkenbog, " said I, "peace is best among nearfriends--not to speak of kinsfolk!"

"Aye, " said he, "fairly and soothly be it! But I have to ken first thatit is fairly and soothly. Who is the man?"

"I do not know for certain, " I said, "but I have every reason to believethat your daughter is at this moment Mistress Thomas Gallaberry ofEwebuchts, on the Water of Ae!"

"Oh, the limmer, " he cried, and started up as if to fly at me again. Hisface was indeed a study. First there appeared the usual hot wrath, overlapping in ruddy fold on fold, and revealing the owner's full-fedintent to punish. This gradually gave way to a look of humorousappreciation, and then all of a sudden, he slapped his thigh in an agonyof joyous appreciation. 

"Oh, the limmer, " he cried, "only a week since my kinsman Tam Gallaberryasks me brave and canny for the lend of five hundred to stock his BackHill. He offered decent enough security, and as usual I took Charlotte'sopinion on the business. For it's her that has the great head for thesiller. Oh yes, she has that. And as soon as they gat the tocher, he'soff wi' the lassie. Certes, but he is the cool hand. "

"If you allow me to judge, I should say the cool hand was Charlotte!" Iventured. 

"Right, man, " he cried, "little do I doubt it! Tam Gallaberry has led agrey mare to his stable that will prove the better horse, and that hewill ken before he is a fortnight older. "

Then he turned upon me, short and sharp. 

"You have kenned this some while, I'm jaloosin'?"

"Yes, " said I, for I felt that he might have me awkwardly trapped if hewent on, "that is one of the reasons why I did not come home. I knewthat Charlotte had made up her mind never to marry me----"

"And ye took it like that?" he cried; "man, ye havena muckle spunk!"

"It was not generally so thought at the time of the assault on the greathouse of Marnhoul, " I answered; "and indeed I remember one old gentlemanabout your figure, with a white crape over his nose, that shook me bythe hand and took my name down in his book----"

"_Wheesht--wheesht_, " he said, looking about uneasily, "siccan thingsare better never minted so close to the Parliament House where bide theRed Fifteen!"

"Well, " said I, "that's as may be, but I cannot have it said by you orany man that I lack spunk!"

"Oh, " said he, "though I never was troubled that gate mysel'--there'smony a bold man has turned hen-hearted when it came to a question of thelasses. There's Freddy here, one wad never think it of him, but therehas he gotten yon lass that nearly did for me with her twa-pronged fork. She's a smart hizzy, and will make a lively wife to some man. But I maune'en be riding back to put a question or so to the man that has stownawa' my bit ewe-lamb and put her in fold by the Water of Ae. "

At that moment Amelia came in with a triumphant smile. "It's a laddiefrom the post, and he winna gie up the letter unless you pay himsevenpence for postage dues and a penny for himself!"

"There's the sevenpence, and clash the door in his face!" I cried. For Iwas bravely well acquainted with the exigencies of these post-office"keelies. "

But Birkenbog, who was in good humour at the way he had been done by hisdaughter, threw a handful of copper "bodles" across the table to Amelia. 

"There's for the messenger!" he said. And I could see that he looked atthe letter when it came with some anxiety. 

As I supposed, it was from Charlotte, and the thinnest and least bulkyof her billets that had ever come up these stairs. I handed it across tohim, where he sat newly glooming at me. 

"Open it!" I said. 

"Since when has Robert Anderson of Birkenbog taken to opening lettersaddressed to other men?"

"Never heed--not till this very minute, maybe. Open that one, at anyrate!" And I ran my finger along the sealed edge. 

This was Charlotte's letter to me. 

 From our home at Ewebuchts, Tuesday. 

 "Dear Duncan, "How can we ever make it up to you? We were married yesterday by Mr. Torrance, the minister at Quarrelwood, and came home here in time for the milking of the cows. My father has kindly given my Thomas five hundred on account of my marriage portion, but he does not know it yet. I left all well. Thomas joins in kind messages to all inquiring friends. He is looking over my shoulder now, as perhaps you may be already aware from the style of composition. 

 "Yours truly, "Charlotte Gallaberry. 

 "P. S. --Oh, I forget to tell you, it will be as well to barricade your door. For I left word with one of the servant lasses that I was off to Edinburgh. Father will likely call to see you, and he is sure to have with him the whip wherewith he downed the highwayman. But I know well your bravery, and do sincerely thank you for all you may have to undergo for me. 

 "Charlotte. "

"Humph, " said her father, as he flung it across the table to me, "in myopinion ye are well shut of her! She will twist that Tam Gallaberryround her finger and then--whizz--she will make him spin like a peerie!"

He rose, and without any adieus stamped his way down the stairs, sniffing as he went at every landing. We stood at the window watchinghis progress along the street--capes swaying, broad bonnet of bluecocked at an angle on top, red double-chinned face looking straightahead. Amelia came over to my shoulder and looked too. 

But all she said was, "And now, when it's past and gone, will ye tell meif _Yon_ is what you learned folk caa' an avalanche?"

CHAPTER XXX

THE VANISHING LADY

During the next three years (and that is a long driech time) I made manyexcuses for not going down to Eden Valley. I cannot say whether Imanaged to get myself believed or not. But the fact of the matter is, that, as things were, I could not bring myself to face Irma again and sobring back the pain. My father had come up to see me twice. Once he hadbrought my mother, of whom Mrs. Craven had made much, recognizing akindred refinement of spirit. But Amelia and my Aunt Jen (who came atthe time of the General Assembly) learned to respect one another--allthe more that they had been highly prejudiced before meeting. 

"She seems a weel-doing lass, wi' no feery-faries aboot her!" declaredmy aunt, speaking of Amelia Craven. While that young woman, deliveringher mind after the departure of Miss Janet Lyon, declared that she was a"wiselike woman and very civil--but I'll wager she came here thinkingthat I was wanting ye. Faith, no, I wadna marry any student that everstepped in leather--_I ken ower muckle aboot them_!"

"There's Freddie!" I suggested. 

"Oh, " said Amelia shortly, "he's different, I allow. But then, there's amedium. One doesna want a man with his nose aye in a book. But one that, when ye spit at him, will spit back!"

"Try me!" I said, daring her in conscious security. 

"Goliah of Gath, " cried she, "but I wad be sair left to mysel'!"

We continued, however, to be pretty good friends always, and in ageneral way she knew about Irma. She had seen the oval miniature lyingon the table. She had also closely interrogated Freddy, and lastly shehad charged me with the fact, which I did not deny. 

Freddy was now assistant to the professor of Humanity, which is to sayof the Latin language, while besides my literary work on the _UniversalReview_ I was interim additional Under-secretary to the UniversityCourt. In both which positions, literary and secretarial, I did the workfor which another man pocketed the pay. 

But after all I was not ill-off. One way and another I was making nearon to a hundred pounds a year, which was a great deal for the countryand time, and more than most ministers got in country parts. I wrote agreat many very learned articles, though I signed none. I even directedforeign affairs in the _Review_, and wrote the most damaging indictmentsagainst "the traditional policy of the house of Austria. "

Then the other man, the great one in the public eye, he who paid me--putin this and that sonorous phrase, full of echoing emptiness, launched anantithesis which had done good service a time or two on the hustings orin the House of Commons, and--signed the article. Well, I do not object. That was what I was there for, and after all I made myself necessary tothe _Universal Review_. It would never have appeared in time but for me. I verified quotations, continued articles that were too short byhalf-a-dozen pages, found statistics where there were blanks in themanuscript, invented them if I could not find them, generally bulliedthe printers and proof-readers, saw to the cover, and never let go tillthe "Purple-and-Green, " as we were called, was for sale on all thecounters and speeding over Britain in every postboy's leathers. 

Now one of my employers (the best) lived away among the woods aboveCorstorphine and another out at the Sciennes--so between them I hadpretty long tramps--not much in the summer time when nights hardlyexisted, but the mischief and all when for weeks the sun was anunrealized dream, and even the daylight only peered in for a morningcall and then disappeared. 

But at the time of which I write the days were lengthening rapidly. Iwas deep in our spring number of the _Universal_. Only the medicalstudents were staying on at the University, and the Secretary's spaciousoffice could safely be littered with all sort of printing _débris_. Mygood time was beginning. 

Well, in one of my walks out to Corstorphine, I was aware, not for thefirst time, of the figure of a girl, carefully veiled, that at myapproach--we were always meeting one another--slipped aside into aclose. I thought nothing of this for the first two or three times. Butthe fourth, I conceived there was something more in it than met the eye. So I made a detour, and, near by the end of George Street--unfinished atthat time like all the other streets in that new neighbourhood--I met myvanishing lady face to face as she emerged upon the Queensferry Road. She had lifted her veil a little in order the better to pick her wayamong the building and other materials scattered there. 

It was Irma--Irma Maitland herself, grown into a woman, her eyesbrighter, her cheeks paler, the same Irma though different--with alittle startled look certainly, but now not proud any more, and--lookingevery day of her twenty-two years. 

"Irma!" I gasped, barring the way. 

She stopped dead. Then she clutched at her skirt, and said feverishly, "Let me pass, sir, or I shall call for help!"

"Call away, " I answered cheerfully. "I will only say that you have runoff from the home which has sheltered you for many years, and that yourfriends are very anxious about you. Where are you staying?"

I glanced at her black dress. It was not mourning exactly, but then Irmanever did anything like any one else. A fear took me that it might belittle Louis who was dead, and yet for the life of me I dared not ask, knowing how she loved the child. 

When I asked where she was staying, she plucked again at her skirt, lifting it a little as when she was being challenged to run a race. Butseeing no way clear, she answered as it were under compulsion, "With myAunt Kirkpatrick at the Nun's House!"

At first I had the fear that this might prove to be some Catholic placelike the convent to which she had been sent in Paris. But it turned outto be only a fine old mansion, standing by itself in a garden with asmall grey lodge to it, far out on the road to the Dean. 

"Take me there!" I said, "for I must tell my grandmother what I haveseen of you, or she will be up here by the coach red and angry enough todry up the Nor' Loch!"

Irma walked by my side quite silent for a while, and I led her cunninglyso as not to get too soon to our destination. I knew better than to askwhy she had left Heathknowes. If I let her alone, she would soon enoughbegin to defend herself. And so it was. 

"The lawyers took Louis away to put him to a school here, " she said. "Itwas time. I knew it, but I could not rest down there without him. So Icame also. I left them all last Wednesday. Your grandmother came herselfwith me to Dumfries, and there we saw the lawyers. They had not much tosay to your grandmother, while she----"

"I understand, " said I; "she had a great deal to say to them!"

Irma nodded, and for the first time faintly smiled. 

"Yes, " she answered, "the little old man in the flannel dressing-gown, of whom you used to tell us, forgot to poke the fire for a long time!"

"So you left them all in good heart about your coming away?" I said. 

"Oh, the good souls, " she cried, weeping a little at the remembrance, "never will I see the like till I am back there again. I think they allloved me--even your Aunt Jen. She gave me her own work-basket and apsalm book bound in black leather when I came away. "

And at the remembrance she wept afresh. 

"I must stop this, " she said, dabbing her eyes with a very early-Aprilsmile, "my Aunt Kirkpatrick will think it is because of meeting you. Sheis always free with her imagination, my Lady Kirkpatrick--a clever womanfor all that--only, what is it that you say, 'hard and fyky!' She hasseen many great people and kings, and was long counted a great beautywithout anything much coming of it. "

I thought I would risk changing the subject to what was really uppermostin my mind. 

"And Charlotte?" I ventured, as blandly as I could muster. 

"I wonder you are not shamed!" she said, with a glint in her eye thathardly yet expressed complete forgiveness. "I know all about that. Andif you think you can come to me bleating like a sore wronged andinnocent lamb, you are far mistaken!"

So this was the reason of her long silence. Charlotte had babbled. Imight have known. Still, I could not charge my conscience with anythingvery grave. After all, the intention on both sides--Charlotte's as wellas mine, --had been of the best. She wanted to marry her Tam of theEwebuchts, which she had managed--I, to wed Irma, from which I was yetas far off as ever. 

So I made no remark, but only walked along in a grieved silence. It wasnot very long till Irma remarked, a little viciously, but with the oldinvoluntary toss of her head which sent all her foam-light curls dippingand swerving into new effects and combinations--so that I could hardlytake my eyes off her--"Would you like to hear more about Charlotte?"

"Yes!" said I boldly. For I knew the counter for her moods, which was tobe of the same, only stronger. 

"Well, she has two children, and when the second, a boy, was born, sheclaimed another five hundred pounds from her father to stock a farm forhim--the old man called it 'a bonny bairn-clout' for our Lottie'sDuncan!"

"What did you say the bairn's name was?"

"Duncan--after you!" This with an air of triumph, very pretty to see. 

"And the elder, the girl?" I asked--though, indeed, that I knew--fromthe old letters of my Aunt Jen. 

"Irma!" she answered, some little crestfallen. 

"After you?"

She had barely time to nod when we passed in at the lodge gate of theNun's House. The old porter came to the gate to make his reverence, andno doubt to wonder who the young lady, his mistress's kinswoman, hadgotten home with her. 

I found the Lady Kirkpatrick--Lady by courtesy, but only known thus byall her circle--to be a little vivid spark of a white-haired woman, sitting on a sofa dressed in the French fashion of forty years ago, andwith a small plume of feathers in a jewelled turban that glittered asshe moved. At first she was kind enough to me. 

"Hey, Master-of-Arts Duncan MacAlpine, this is a bonny downcome for yourgrandfather's son, and you come of decent blood up in Glen Strae--to begreat with the Advocate, and scribbling his blethers! A sword by yourside would have suited ye better, I'm thinking!"

"Doubtless, my lady, " I answered, "if such had been my state andfortune. Nevertheless, I can take a turn at that too, if need be. "

"Aha, ye have not lost the Highland conceit, in drawing water from thewells of Whiggery!"

"If I mistake not, " I replied, "your ladyship did not care to bidealways about a king's court when she had the chance. "

For I knew her history, as did everybody in Edinburgh--a littlegossiping town at that time--now, they say, purged of scandal--which isa Heaven's miracle if ever there was one. 

"Och, hear him!" she cried, throwing up her fan with a jerk to the endof its tether with a curious flouting disdain, "politics are very wellwhen it is 'Have at them, my merry men a'!' But after, when all is doneand laid on the shelf like broken bairns'-plaiks, better be a Whig inthe West Bow than a Jesuit in a king's palace abroad!"

And, like enough (so at least it was whispered), the choice had beenoffered her. 

Then all in a moment she turned to me with a twinkle in her eye that washardly less than impish. Indeed, I may say that she flew at me much likean angry wasp when a chance of your walking-stick stirs its nest. 

"It's prophesied, " she said, "that some day a Kirkpatrick of Closeburnwill be greater than a queen. For me it was, 'Thank you kindly! I wouldrather dwell in the Nun's House of the Dean than possess the treasuresof Egypt!' But this lass is a Kirkpatrick too, though only through hergrandmother, and I troth it may be her that's to wear the crown. At anyrate, mind you, no dominie's son with his fingers deep in printer's ink, and in the confidence of our little Advocate that rideth on the whitehorse--only it's a powny--must venture any pretensions----"

"You mistake me, " said I, suddenly very dignified, "my family----"

"Fiddlesticks, " cried the old lady; "there's Bellman Jock wha's faitherwas a prince o' the bluid. But what the better is he o' that? Na, na, there's to be no trokin', nor eyesdropping, nor yet slipping of notesinto itching palms, nor seeing one another to doors!--Och, aye, I kenthe gait o't fine. Mony is the time I have seen it travelled. This youngleddy is for your betters, sirrah, and being but the son of a villagedominie, and working for your bread among Leein' Johnny's hundred blackmen in Parliament Close, ye may--an it please ye, and _if_ ye please, gie this door a wide gae-by. For if ye come a second time, Samuel Whan, the porter, will have his orders to steek the yett in your face!"

"Madame, " said I, very fine, "it shall not be done twice!"

I stole a glance at Irma, who was standing with her face white and herlips trembling. 

"No, " said she, "nor yet once. I came here at your request, AuntKirkpatrick. For years and years my brother and I have sorned on thefamily of this gentleman--you yourself grant he is that----"

"No such thing!" snapped my lady Kirkpatrick, "gentleman indeed--anewsmonger's apprentice! That's your gentrice!"

"We dwelt there, my brother and I, " Irma went on, "none of my familytroubling their heads or their purses about us, yet without a plack wewere treated as brother and sister by all the family. "

"Be off, then, with your brother, since you are so fond of him!" criedthe fiery old lady, rising with a long black cane in her hand, a terrieryelping and snapping at her heels. "I am for London next week, and Icannot be at the chairge of a daft hempie, especially one of such low, common tastes. "

At these words, so unexpected and uncalled for, Irma put out her handand took mine. She spoke very gently. 

"Duncan, " she said, "we are not wanted here. Let us be going!"

"But--Irma----!" I gasped, for even then I would take no advantage. "Whither shall I conduct you? Have you other friends in Edinburgh?"

"Before a minister!" she said. "That will be best. I have no friendsbut you!"

"Aye, there ye are!" cried the old lady, "I was sure there was somethingat the back of this sudden flight to Edinburgh. The dear littlebrother--oh, but we were that fond of him--the poor, poor innocentbairn. Such a comfort for him to know his sister near at hand! Yet, though I have done with you, Mistress Irma Sobieski, I may say that Iwish you no ill. Make a better use of your youth than maybe I have done. If ye need a helping hand, there's my sister Frances out at theSciennes. She's fair crammed like a Strasburg goose wi' the_belles-lettres_. She will maybe never let ye within the door, but ashilling a week of outdoor relief ye are sure of--for she sets up forbeing full of the milk of human kindness. She set her cap at John Homewhen he came home from London. She would never even allow that DavieHume was an atheist, whilk was as clear as that I hae a nose to myface!---- Off with you to Fanny's at the Sciennes. And a long guid day tothe pair of ye--ye are a disobedient regardless lassock, and ye areheapin' up wrath again the day of wrath, but for all that I'm no sayin'that I'll forget you in my will! There are others I like waur nor you, when all's said and done!"

"I would not take a penny of yours if I were starving on the street!"cried Irma. 

"Save us!" said the old lady, lifting up her black wand, "ye will maybethink different when ye are real hungrysome. The streets are nae betterthan they are caa'ed. But off wi' ye, and get honestly tied up! BidSamuel Whan shut the yett after ye!"

CHAPTER XXXI

TWICE MARRIED

Now I have never to this day been able to make up my mind whether theLady Kirkpatrick was really stirred with such anger as she pretended, whether she was only more than a little mad, or if all was done merelyto break down Irma's reserve by playing on her anger and pride. 

If the last was the cause of my lady's strange behaviour to us, it wasshiningly successful. 

"We will not go a step to find my Lady Frances, " said Irma when we wereoutside; "if she be so full of all the wisdoms, she would very likelytry to separate us. "

And certainly it was noways my business to make any objections. So, hardly crediting my happiness, I went southwards over the Bridges, withIrma by my side, my heart beating so rarely that I declare I couldhardly bethink me of a minister to make me sure of Irma before she hadtime to change her mind. As was usual at that hour at the Surgeon'sHall, we met Freddy Esquillant coming from the direction of SimonSquare. Him I sent off as quickly as he could to Rankeillor Street forAmelia Craven. I felt that this was no less than Amelia's due, for manya time and oft must she have been wearied with my sighs andcomplaints--very suitable to the condition of a lover, but mightilywearisome to the listener. 

Irma said nothing. She seemed to be walking in a dream, and hardlynoticed Freddy--or yet the errand upon which I sent him. 

It came to me that, as the matter was of the suddenest, Amelia Cravenmight help us to find a small house of our own where we might set up ourhousehold gods--that is, when we got any. 

An unexpected encounter preceded the one expected. I was marching alongto our rendezvous with Freddy and Amelia at the crossing from Archers'Hall to the Sciennes, when all of a sudden whom should we meet right inthe face but my rosy-cheeked, bunchy little employer--my Lord Advocatein person, all shining as if he had been polished, his face smiling andsmirking like a newly-oiled picture, and on his arm, but towering abovehim, a thin, dusky-skinned woman, plainly dressed, and with an enormousbonnet on her head, obviously of her own manufacture--a sort of tangleof black, brown and green which really had to be seen to be believed. 

"Aha!" cried my Lord Advocate; "whither away, young sir? Shirking theproofs, eh, my lad? And may I have the honour to be presented to yoursister from the country--for so, by her fresh looks, I divine the younglady to be. "

"If you will wait a few minutes till we can find a minister, I will say, 'This, sir, is my wedded wife, '" I declared manfully. 

"And is the young lady of the same mind?" quoth my Lord, with a quick, gleg slyness. 

"I am, sir--if the business concerns you!" said Irma, looking straightat him. 

"What, and dare you say that you will take a man like this for yourwedded husband?" he demanded, with the swift up-and-down play of hisbushy brows which was habitual to him. 

"I see not what business it is of yours, " Irma answered, as sharply, "but I do take him for my husband. "

"There!" cried the lawyer, pulling out his snuffbox and tapping itvehemently, "it is done. I have performed my first marriage, and all theGeneral Assembly, or the Gretna Green Welder himself, could not havedone it neater or made a better job. Declaration before witnesses beingsufficient in the eye of the law of Scotland, I declare you two man andwife!"

Irma looked distressed. 

"But I do not feel in the least married, " she said; "I must have aminister!"

"You can have all the ministers in Edinburgh, my lass, but you have beenduly wedded already in the presence of the first legal authority of yourkingdom, not to mention that of the Lady Frances Kirkpatrick----"

"My aunt Frances, after all!" cried Irma, suddenly flushing. 

"Who may you be?" said the tall lady, with the face like sculpturedgingerbread. 

"Who _was_ she, you mean, my Lady Frances?" said the Advocate blandly, helping himself to a pinch of snuff. "I can tell you who she is--Mrs. Duncan MacAlpine, wife of my private assistant and the sub-editor of the_Universal Review_. "

It was the first time he had given me that title, which pleased me, andled me to hope that he meant to accompany the honour by a rise insalary. 

"I am--I was--Irma Sobieski Maitland, " the answer was rather halting andfaint, for Irma was easily touched, and it was only when much provokedthat she put on her "No-one-shall-touch-me-with-impunity" air. 

"If the bride be at all uneasy in her mind, " said the Lord Advocate, "here we are at Mr. Dean's door. I dare say he will step down-stairsinto the chapel and put on his surplice. From what I judge of thelady's family, she will probably have as little confidence in aPresbyterian minister as in a Presbyterian Lord Advocate!"

Freddy and Amelia were waiting across the street. I beckoned to them, and they crossed reluctantly, seeing us talking with my Lord Advocate, whom, of course, all the world of Edinburgh knew. I was not long inmaking the introductions. 

"Miss Craven, late of Yorkshire, and Mr. Frederick Esquillant, assistantto Professor Greg at the College. "

"Any more declarations before witnesses to-day?" said my Lord, lookingquaintly at them. "Ah--the crop is not ripe yet. Well, well--we must becontent for one day. "

And he vanished into a wide, steeply-gabled house, standing crushedbetween higher "lands. "

"The Dean will officiate, never fear, " said Lady Frances. "So you havebeen staying with my sister, and of course she turned you out. Well, shesent you to me, I'll wager, and you were on your way. You could not havedone better than come direct to me. "

"Indeed it was quite an accident, " said Irma, who never would takecredit for what she had not deserved; "you see, I did not know you, andI thought that one like my Lady Kirkpatrick was quite enough----"

"Hush, hush, " said the tall brown woman; "perhaps she means better thanyou give her credit for. She is a rich woman, and can afford to pay forher whimsies. Be sure she meant some kindness. But, at any rate, herecomes the Advocate with our good Dean. "

We mounted into a curiously arranged house. At first one saw nothing butflights on flights of stairs, range above range apparently goingsteeply up to the second floor, without any first floor rooms at all. 

Mr. Dean was a handsome old man with white hair, and he took our handsmost kindly. 

"My friend here, " he said, smiling at my Lord Advocate, "tells me thathe has not left very much for me to do from a legal point of view. But Ilook upon marriage as a sacrament, and though the bridegroom is not, asI hear, of our communion, I have no difficulty in acceding to therequest of my Lord--especially since our good Lady Frances has deignedto be present as a near relative of the bride. "

He called something into a sort of stone tube. Then bidding us to beseated, he went into another room to array himself in his surplice, fromwhich, presently, he came out, holding a service-book in his hand. 

We followed him down-stairs--I with Lady Frances on my arm, the LordAdvocate preceding us with Irma, whom he was to give away. He appearedto take quite a boyish interest in the whole affair, from which Iaugured the best for our future. 

We were rather hampered at the turning of the stair, and had to dropinto single file again, when Irma clutched suddenly at my hand, and inthe single moment we had together in the dusk, she whispered, "Oh, I amso glad!"

Lady Frances told me as we passed into the little half-undergroundchapel, low and barrel-shaped as to the roof, with the candles readyalight on the altar, that all this secrecy had come down from the timewhen the service according to the Episcopal form had been strictlyforbidden in Edinburgh--at least in any open way. 

I cannot describe what followed. I must have stood like a dummy, muttering over what I was prompted to say. But the responses came toIrma's lips as if she had many times rehearsed them--which perhaps wasthe case--I know now that she had always kept her father's King Edwardprayer-book, and read it when alone. We stood by the rails of what I nowknow to have been the altar. All about was hung with deep crimson, andthe heavy curtains were looped back with golden cord. A kind of gloryshone behind the altar, in the midst of which appeared, in Hebrewletters, the name of God. Irma, who was far more self-possessed than I, found time to wonder and even to ask me what it meant. And I, translating freely (for I had picked up somewhat of that language fromFreddy Esquillant), said, "Thou, God, seest me. "

Which, at any rate, if not exactly correct, was true and apt enough. 

"Well, are you well married now, babes?" said the Advocate, and I triedto answer him as we made our way to the vestry--I stumbling andself-abased, Irma with the certainty and calmness of a widow at leastthrice removed from the first bashfulness of a bride. 

We signed the register, in which (the Advocate took care to inform us)were some very distinguished names indeed. Which, however, was entirelythe same to me. 

Then as I thanked Mr. Dean for his kindness, not daring to offer anypoor fee, the Advocate chatted with Amelia Craven with great delicacyand understanding, inquiring chiefly as to Freddy's attainments andprospects. 

But what was my surprise when, as soon as we were on the cobble stones, the Lady Frances turned sharply upon Irma, and said, quite in the styleof my Lady Kirkpatrick, "And now, Irma Maitland, since your husband hasno house or any place to take you to, you had better come to my housein the Sciennes till he can make proper arrangements. It is not at allsuitable that a Maitland should be on a common stair like a travellingtinker looking for lodgings. "

Hearing which the neat, shining, dimpling little Advocate turned hisbright eyes from one to the other of us, and tapped his tortoise-shellsnuffbox with a kind of elvish joy. It was clear that we were betterthan many stage-plays to him. 

As for Irma, she looked at me, but now sweetly and innocently, as ifasking for counsel, not haughty or disdainful as had been her wont. Theaccusation of poverty touched me, and I was on the point of telling herto choose for herself, that I would find her a house as soon aspossible, when Amelia Craven thrust herself forward. 

Up to this point she had kept silent, a little awed by the great folk, or perhaps by the church, with the red hangings and twinkling, mysterious candles on the altar. 

"I do not know a great deal, " she said, "but this I do know, that awife's place is with her husband--and especially when the 'love, honourand obey' is hardly out of her mouth. She shall come home to my mother'swith me, even if Duncan MacAlpine there has not enough sense to bidher. "

Upon which the Advocate strove (or at least appeared to strive) to pleaseeverybody and put everybody in the right. It was perhaps natural that, till arrangements were completed, so young a bride should remain withher family. But, on the other hand, young people could not begin toosoon to face the inevitable trials of life. The feelings of the younglady who had expressed her mind in so lively a manner--Miss--Miss--ahyes, Craven--Miss Amelia Craven--did her all honour. It only remainedto hear the decision of--of (a smirk, several dimples and a prolongedtapping on the lid of his snuffbox)--_Mistress Duncan MacAlpine_. 

"I will go with my husband, " said Irma simply. 

"There's for you, Frances!" cried the Advocate, turning to his companionwith a little teasing "hee-hee" of laughter, almost like the neigh of ahorse; "there spoke all the woman. "

But Lady Frances had very deliberately turned about and was walking, without the least greeting or farewell, in the direction of her ownhouse of Sciennes. 

"There goes a Kirkpatrick, " said the Advocate, tapping his boxcynically; "cry with them, they will hunt your enemies till they drop. Cry off with them, and it's little you will see of them but the back oftheir hand. "

He touched my Irma on her soft cheek with the tips of his fingers. "AndI wish, for your goodman's sake, " he said, "that this little lady'squalities do not run in the female line. "

"I hope, " said Irma, "that I shall always have grace to obey myhusband. "

"Graces you have--overly many of them, as it is easy to see, " quoth thegallant Advocate, taking off his hat and bowing low, "but it is seldomindeed that ladies use either Grace or their graces for such a purpose!"

CHAPTER XXXII

THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE MEADOWS

Irma and I had a great seeking for the little house, great enough fortwo, with such convenience as, at the time, could be called modern, andyet within reach of our very moderate means. First of all Freddy and Ihad gone to the Nun's House to ask for Irma's box and accoutrement. These made no great burden. Nevertheless, we borrowed a little "hurley, "or handcart, from the baker's girl opposite, who certainly bore nomalice. I had our marriage lines in my pocket, lest any should deny myrights. But though we did not see the Lady Kirkpatrick, the goods wereall corded and placed ready behind the door of the porter's lodge. Wehad them on the "hurley" in a minute. The Lady Frances passed in as wewere carrying out the brass-bound trunk of Irma's that had been mygrandmother's. She went by as if she had not seen us, her curiouslymahogany face more of the _punchinello_ type than ever--yet somehow Icould not feel but that most of this anger was assumed. These women hadshown Irma no kindness, indeed had never troubled themselves about herexistence, all the long time she had stayed at Heathknowes. Why, then, begin so suddenly to play upon the sounding strings of family and longdescent?

Indeed, we two thought but little more about the matter. Our minds werefully enough occupied. The wonder of those new days--the unexpected, unforeseen glory of the earth--the sudden sweetness of love, unbelievable, hardly yet realized, overwhelmed and confounded us. 

And, more than all, there was the search for a house. The Advocate metme every day with his queer smile, but though he put my salary on a moresecure basis, and arranged that in future I should be paid by theprinter and not by himself, the sum total of my income was notmaterially altered. 

"What's enough for one is abundance for two!" was his motto. And theaphorism rang itself out to his tiny rose-coloured nails on the lid ofthe tortoise-shell snuffbox. Then he added a few leading cases as becameone learned in the law. 

"I began the same way myself, " he said, "and though I have a biggerhouse now and serving men in kneebreeks and powder in their hair, Inever go by that cottage out by Comely Bank without a 'pitter-patter' ofmy sinful old heart!"

He thought for a while, and then added, "Aye, aye--there's no way foryoung folk to start life like being poor and learning to hain on thegowns and the broadcloth! What matter the trimmings, when ye have oneanother?"

As to the house, it was naturally Irma who did most of the searching. For me, I had to be early at the secretary's office, and often late atthe printer's. But there was always some time in the day that I had tomyself--could I only foresee it before I left home in the morning. "Home" was, so far, at Mrs. Craven's, where the good Amelia had given usup her chamber, and Freddy rose an hour earlier, so that his wall-pressbed might be closed and the "room" made ready for Irma's breakfastparlour. 

All the three begged that we might stay on. We were, they declared withone voice, not putting them to the smallest inconvenience. But I knewdifferent, and besides, I had a constant and consuming desire for ahouse of mine own, however small. 

Ever since I first knew Irma, a dream had haunted me. In days long pastit had come, when I was only an awkward laddie gazing after her on theEden Valley meadows. Often it had returned to me during the tedioussilences of three years--when, quite against the proverb, love had grownby feeding upon itself. 

And my dream was this. 

I was in a great city, harassed by many duties, troubled by enemies openand concealed. There was the drear emptiness of poverty in my pocket, present anxiety in my heart, and little hope in the outlook. But I hadwork--I did not know in my dream what that work was--only that itsufficed to keep body and soul together, but after it was done I wasweak and weary, a kind of unsatisfied despondency gnawing at my heart. 

Then I got loose for an hour or so from my unknown tasks. My path layacross a kind of open place into which many narrow streets ran, whilesome dived away into the lower deeps of the city. People went their waysas I was doing mine, dejected and sad. But always, as I crossed towardthe opening of a wide new street, where against the sky were tallscaffoldings and men busy with hod and mortar, I saw Irma coming towardsme. She was neat and youthful, but dressed poorly in plainthings--homespun, and in my dream, I judged, also home-made. 

I saw her afar off, and the heart within me gave a great leap. She cametowards me smiling, and lo! I seemed to stand still and worship thelithe carriage and elastic step. The world grew all sweet and gay. Thelift above became blue and high. The sun shone no longer grey andbrown, but smiling and brilliant--as--as the face of Irma. 

Strangely enough she did not greet me nor hold out her hand asacquaintances do. She came straight up to me as if the encounter werethe merest matter-of-course, while as I stood there, with the hunger andthe wretchedness all gone out of me, the weariness and misery melted inthe grace of that radiant smile, she uttered just these words, "I havefound the Little House Round the Corner!"

Now I will tell of a strange thing--so strange that I have consultedIrma about it, whether I should write it down here or keep it just forourselves. 

And she said, "It is true--so why not set it down?" Well, this is whathappened. One day I had arranged to meet Irma at the corner of thequaint little village of Laurieston, which, as all the world knows, looks down on the saughs of the Meadows and out upon the slopes ofBruntsfield where, among the whins, the city golfers lose their balls. 

At that time, as all the world knows, there was undertaken a certainwork of opening out that part of the ancient wall which runs westwardfrom Bristo Port at the head of the Potter Row. Some great old houseshad gone down, and I mind well that I was greatly attracted by the firstview of the Greyfriars Kirk that ever I had from that quarter. (It wassoon lost again behind new constructions, but for a time it was worthseeing, with its ancient "through" stones, and the Martyrs' Monumentshowing its bossy head over the low wall. )

So much taken up with this was I, that I did not notice the alteredaspect of the place. Yet I looked about me like one who is suddenlyconfronted by something very familiar. There was the wide space. Therewere the narrow streets I knew so well. Yonder was the Candlemaker Rowdiving down into the bowels of the earth. Away towards the Greyfriarswere the tall "lands" which the masons were pulling down. Nearer weremen climbing up ladders with hods on their shoulders. Highest of all, against the blue sky, naked as a new gibbet, stood out the framework ofa crane. 

It was the very place of my dream. I knew it well enough, indeed, butnever until that day it had looked so. And there, coming smiling downthe midst, easily as one might down the aisle of an empty church, wasIrma herself, as plain and poor in habiliment as my dream, butsmiling--ah, with a smile that turned all my heart to water, so dear itwas. It was good of God to let us love each other like that--and bepoor. 

And as she came nearer, she did not hold out her hand, nor greet me--butwhen she was quite close she said, exactly as in the dream, "I havefound the Little House round the Corner!" Yet she had never heard of mydream before. 

That this is true, we do solemnly bear witness, each for our own parts, thereof, and hereto append our names--

 Duncan MacAlpine. Irma MacAlpine. 

 * * * * *

Irma had found it, indeed, but as I judged at the first sight of thehouse, it was bound to be too expensive for our purses. I immediatelydecided that something must be wrong somewhere, when I heard that wecould have this pleasant cottage with its scrap of garden, long andnarrow certainly, but full of shade and song of birds, for theinconsiderable rent of ten pounds a year. We thought of many dangers andinconveniences, but Irma was infinitely relieved when it came out to beonly ghosts. Servants, it appeared, could not be got to stay. 

"Is that all?" said Irma scornfully. "Well, then, I don't mean to keepany servants, and as for ghosts, Louis and I have lived in a big housein a wood full of them from cellar to roof-tree! You let ghosts alone, they will let you alone! 'Freits follow them that look for them!"

CHAPTER XXXIII

AND THE DOOR WAS SHUT

We were poor, very poor indeed in these days. Irma had many a wrinkledbrow and many an anxious heart over the weekly expenses--so much to beset aside for rent, so much for mysterious things called taxes--which, seeing no immediate good arise from them, my little rebel hated with allher heart, and devised all sorts of schemes to evade. 

But every week there was the joy of a victory won. Untowardcircumstances had been vanquished--the butcher, the baker had beensettled with or--done without. For sometimes Amelia Craven came to giveus a day's baking, and an array of fragrant scones and girdle-cakes, which I was taken into the kitchen to see on my return home, gave us theassurance of not having to starve for many days yet. 

I was glad, too, for it was my busy season, and I had to be much fromhome. There was, indeed, a certain nondescript Mistress McGrier, whocame to help with the heavier duties of the house. She was the daughterof one janitor at the college, the wife of yet another (presentlysuspended for gross dereliction of duty), and she did some charing toearn an honest penny. But there was little human to be found about her. Whisky, poor food, neglect, and actual ill treatment had left her mindafter the pattern of her countenance, mostly blank. Yet I was not sorrywhen she stayed, especially as the autumnal days shortened, till nearthe time of my return. Mrs. McGrier frankly tarried for her tea, and herconversation was not enlivening, since she could talk of little saveher sorrows as a wife, and how she was trusting to some one in theoffice (meaning me) for the future reinstatement of her erring janitor. 

Sometimes, on Sundays, she would bring him, as it were framed and glazedto a painful pitch of perfection. His red hair was plastered withpomatum, identical with that which had been used upon his boots. JanitorMcGrier had been a soldier, and always moved as if to words of commandunheard to other mortals. If he had only two yards to go, he started asif from the halt. His pale blue eyes were fixed in his head, and hechewed steadily at lozenges of peppermint or cinnamon to hide theperfume of the glass of "enlivener" with which his wife had bribed himas an argument for submitting to get up and be dressed. 

It was only on such show occasions that Mrs. McGrier was voluble. Andthat, solely, because "Pathrick" said nothing. Even as I remembered himin the days of his pride at the door of the Greek classroom, Pathrickhad always possessed the shut mouth, the watery, appealing eye, and theindicative thumb which answered the question of a novice only with aquick jerk in the requisite direction. 

I think Pathrick sometimes conceived dark suspicions that I had changedIrma in the intervals of his visits. You see, this small witch had buttwo dresses that were any way respectable--that is to say, street-goingor Sabbath-keeping. But then she had naturally such an instinct ofarrangement that a scrap of ribbon, or the lace scarf my grandmother hadgiven her, made so great a difference that she seemed to have an entirewardrobe at her command. No doubt a woman would have picked out thefundamental sameness at a glance. But it did very well for men, whoonly care for the effect. 

Even the Advocate would look in on his way to or from the Sciennes for acup of tea from Irma. And in our little parlour he would sit and rap onhis snuffbox, talking all the while, and forgetting to go till it wasdark--as gentle and human as any common man. 

When Freddy and Amelia Craven came in he would give the student adviceabout his work, or ask Amelia when she was going to call in hisassistance to get married--which was his idea of jocularity, and, I mustadmit, also, that of Amelia. Indeed, we were wonderfully glad to seehim, and he brightened many a dull afternoon for Irma. 

Sometimes, if I got away early, I would find him already installed, hishat stuck on his gold-headed cane in the corner--as it were, all hishigh authority laid aside, while he regarded with moist eyes thework-basket in which Irma kept her interminable scraplets of whitethings which I would not have meddled with the tip of one of my fingers, but which the Advocate turned over with an ancient familiarity, humminga tune all the while--a tune, however, apt to break off suddenly with a"_Humph_, " and an appeal to the much-enduring lid of the tortoise-shellsnuffbox. 

But I think the dearest and best remembered of all these earlyexperiences happened one winter's evening in the midst of the press andbustle which always attended the opening of the autumn session. Thewinter number of the _Universal_ was almost due, and we were backward, having had to wait for the copy of an important contributor, whosecommunication, in the present state of affairs, might even overturn apolicy--or, at least, in the opinion of the Advocate, could not be donewithout. I need not say that the article in question represented hisown views with remarkable exactitude, and he looked to it to further hisrising influence in London. As he grew greater, he was more often in thesouth, and we saw less and less of him. On the other hand, the practicalwork of the _Review_ fell more and more upon me. 

So this night, as I say, I was late, and on turning out into thesouth-going street which leads past the Surgeons' Hall and St. Patrick'sSquare--my mind being busy with an extra article which I must write togive our readers the necessary number of sheets--for the first andcertainly for the last time in my life I continued my train of thoughtwithout remembering either that I was a married man, or that my littleIrma must be tired waiting for me. 

In mitigation of sentence I can only urge the day-long preoccupations inwhich I had been plunged, and the article, suddenly become necessary, which I must begin to write instanter. But at any rate, excuse or noexcuse, it is certain that I woke from my daydream to find myself inRankeillor Street, almost at the foot of the old Craven stairs which, asa bachelor, I had climbed so often. 

Then, with a sudden shamed leap of the heart and a plunge of the handinto my breeches pocket for my door key, I turned about. I hadforgotten, though only for a moment, the little wife working among hercloud of feathery linen and trimmings, and the little white house roundthe corner above the Meadows. You may guess whether or no I hurriedalong between ash "backets" of the most unparklike Gifford Park, howsharply I turned and scudded along Hope Park, dodging the clothes' poststo the right, from which prudent housewives had removed the ropes withthe deepening of the twilight. 

The dark surface of the Meadows spread suddenly before me in anamplitude of bleakness. A thin, sleety scuff of passing snow-cloud beatin my face. A tall man wrapped in a cloak edged suspiciously nearer asif to take stock of me, but my haste, and perhaps a certain wildness inthe disorder of my dress and hat made him think better of it--that is, if indeed he ever thought ill of it--and with a muttered "Good-e'en toye, " he passed upon his way. 

I could see it now. The light in the window, the two candles that werealways set at the elbow of the busy little housewife, the supper, frugalbut well-considered, simmering on the hob, the table spread white anddainty, with knives and forks of silver (the Advocate's gift) laid outin order. 

Then all the warm and loving things that sleep in the breast of a manrose up within me. The long, weary day was forgotten. The article I mustwrite was shoved into a corner out of the way. For this one hour, inspite of whistling wintry winds and scouring sleet-drifts, the littlelight yonder in the window was sufficient. 

Two farthing dips, a hearth fire, and a loving heart! Earth had nothingmore to give, and my spirit seemed glorified within me. I had a curiousfeeling of melting within me, which was by no means a desire to weep, but rather as if all the vital parts of the man I was had been suddenlyturned to warm water. I cannot tell if any one has ever felt the likebefore, but certainly I did that night, and "warm water" comes as nearto the real thing as I can find words to express. 

It seemed an age while I was crossing the short, stubbly grass of theMeadows. The light within beaconed redder and warmer. On thewindow-blind I saw a gracious silhouette. Then there was the puttingaside the edge of the blind with exploring finger--sure sign that mylittle wife had been regarding the clock and finding me a little late ingetting home. 

As I ran up the short path to the gate I blew into my key. The latch ofthe garden-gate clicked in the blast which swept across from theBlackfords. But there at last before me was the door. The key glided, well-accustomed, into its place, not rattling, but with the slide oflong-polished and intimate steel--soft, like silk on silk. 

But the key never turned. The door opened, seemingly of itself, and, gloriously loving, a candle held high in her hand, her full, whitehouse-gown sweeping to her feet, the little wife stood waiting. 

I said nothing about the overplus of work that had filled my head as Iturned from the high, bleak portals of the University--nothing of how, all unknowing, my traitor feet had carried me to the stairway inRankeillor Street--nothing of the long way, or the suspicious man in thecloak, of the blast and the bent and the sting of the sleet in my face. 

I was at home, just she and I--the two of us alone. And upon us two thedoor was shut. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

A VISIT FROM BOYD CONNOWAY

"I wonder, " said Irma one Saturday morning when, by a happy accident, Ihad no pressing need to go from home, so could stay and linger overbreakfast with my little wife like a Christian, "I wonder what that manis doing down there? He has been sitting on the step outside our gateever since it was light, and he looks as if he were taking root there!"

I made but one bound from the table to the window. For I remembered thecloaked man who had crossed me in the Meadows the other night. Also myinbred, almost instinctive curiosity as to the purposes and antecedentsof lurking folk of all kinds, pricked me. We were easy enough to get onwith in Eden Valley once you knew us, but our attitude towards strangerswas distinctly hostile. 

This man was muffled to the nose in a cloak, and might very well havebeen my inquiring friend of the other night. But when I had opened thedoor and marched with the firm ringing steps of a master down the pavenwalk towards the gate, the face I saw turned to my approach, altered mymood in a second. 

"Why, Boyd Connoway, " I cried, "who would have thought of seeing youhere? What are you doing in Edinburgh? But first come in--there is afriend here who will be glad to see you!"

"Eh, Mr. Duncan, but I am not sure that I dare venture. 'Tis no morethan decent I am, and the young lady, your wife--oh, but though to seeher sweet face would be a treat for poor Boyd Connoway, what might shenot be sayin' about me dirtying her carpets, the craitur? And as forsittin' in her fine arm-chairs----"

"Come your ways in, Boyd, " I cried. "Have you had any breakfast?No--then you are just in time! And you will find that our chairs areonly wood, and you would not hurt our fine carpets, not if you danced onthem with clogs!"

"D'ye tell me, now?" said Boyd, much relieved. "Sure, and it's a toldtale through the whole parish that you are livin' in the very lap ofluxury--with nothing in the world to do for it but just makescratch-scratches on paper with a quill-pen!"

By this time Irma was at the door, hiding herself a little, for she hadstill the morning apron on--that in which she had been helping Mrs. Pathrick. But she was greatly delighted to see Boyd, who, if the truthmust be told, made his best service like an Irishman and agentleman--for, as he said, "Even five-and-thirty years of Galloway hadnot wiped the sclate of his manners!"

Now Boyd was always a favourite with Irma, and I fear that she wasfonder of him than she ought to have been, instead of pitying hishard-driven Bridget--just because Bridget had not his beautiful manners. Presently, as his mouth ceased to fill and empty itself so wonderfullyexpeditiously, Boyd began to talk. 

"As to what fetched me, Miss Irma, " he said, in answer to questions, "faith, I walked all the road, taking many a house on the way wherekenned folk dwelt. Here were pigs to kill and cure. And I killed andcured them. Farther on there were floors to lay, and I laid them, orfish-hooks to busk, and I busked them. "

I put a question here. 

"Oh, Bridget, " he said, shrugging his shoulders with a wearied air, "Bridget doesn't know when she's well off. Och, the craitur! It beganwith the night of the September Fair. Now, it is known to all thecountryside that Boyd Connoway is no drinker. He will sit and talk, asis just and sociable, but nothing more. No, Miss Irma. And so I toldBridget. But it so chanced that Fair Monday was a stormy day, which isthe most temptatious for poor lads in from the country, with only twoholidays in the year, most of them. And what with the new watch and thecouncilmen being so strict against disorder--why, I could not let a dogget into trouble if I could help it. So I spent the most of the nightseeing them home out of harm's way--and if ever there was a work ofnecessity and mercy, that was. 

"But Bridget, she thought different, and declared that I had never somuch as thought of her and the childer all day, but left her at thewash-tub, while they, the poor craiturs, were poppin' out and in of thestalls and crawlin' under the slatting canvas of the shows, as happy aslarks, having their fun all for nothing, and double rations of it whenthey were caught, cuffed, and chased out. Well, Bridget kept it up on meso long and got so worked up that she would not have a bite ready for mewhen I came home tired and weary, bidding me go and eat my meat where Ihad worked my work. So it seemed a good time for me to be off somewherefor my health. But--such was my consideration, that not to leave Bridgetin distress I went asking about till I got her the washin' at GeneralJohnstone's--the minister's she had before--so there was Bridget wellprovided for, Miss Irma--and here am I, Boyd Connoway, a free man on mytravels!"

We asked news of friends and acquaintances--the usual Galloway round ofquestions. 

"Faith, " said Boyd, "but there's just one cry among them--when are yecoming down to let us have a look at your treasure, Mister Duncan? Sure, it's selfish ye are, now, to keep her all this long time to yourself!The little chap's holidays! Ah, true for you. We had forgotten him. Andye are sure that he is well done to, and safely lodged where they haveput him, Miss Irma?"

"If you bide a minute or two, Boyd, " said Irma, smiling, well-pleased, "you may very likely have the chance of judging for yourself. For it isalmost his time to be here, for to-day is a holiday!"

In fact, it was not a quarter of an hour before a shout, the triumphalopening of the outer gate with a rush and a clang, and a mercilesspounding on the front door announced the arrival of Sir Louis. He hadgrown out of all knowledge, declared the visitor, "but no doubt theyoung gentleman had forgotten old Boyd Connoway. "

"Oh, no, " said Louis; "come and show me some more cat's cradles; I knowtwo more 'liftings' already than any boy in the school. But _you_ can doat least a dozen!"

And so, with the woven string about his long clever fingers, Louiswatched the deft and sure manipulation of Boyd Connoway as he "lifted"and wove, changing the pattern indefinitely. For the time being thevillage "do-nothing"--in the sense that he was the busiest man in theplace about other folk's business--was merely another boy at Louis'sschool. And as he worked, he talked, delightfully, easily, dramatically. He made the old life of Eden Valley pass before us. We heard the brisktongue of my grandmother from the kitchen, that of Aunt Jen ruling asmuch of the roost as was permitted to her, but constantly made aware ofherself by her mother's dominating personality. 

With equal facility he recalled my father in his classes, looking outfor collegers to do him credit, my mother passing silently along herretired household ways, Agnes Anne dividing her time between helping hermother in the house, and teaching the classes for which I used to beresponsible in the school. 

It was a memorable day in the little house above the Meadows. Louisplayed with Boyd Connoway all the time, learning infinite new trickswith string, with knife-blades, perfecting himself in the art of makingfly-hooks, of kite manufacture, and the art of lighting a fire. 

He had presented to him Boyd's spare "sulphur" box, in which weretinder, flint and steel, matches dipped in brimstone, and a pair ofshort thick candles which could be set one at a time in a socket formedby the box itself, the raised lid sheltering the flame from the wind. 

Never was a happier boy. And when the Advocate looked in, the surprisingboyishness of Boyd rubbed off even on him. We did not inform our oldfriend of the high place which "the Advocate" held in the judicialhierarchy of his country. For we knew well that nothing Boyd said in ourhouse would ever be used as evidence against him. 

But no doubt my lord gained a great deal of useful information as to thehabits of smugglers, their cargoes, destinations, ports of call andsympathizers. Boyd crowned his performances by inviting the Advocatedown to undertake the defence of the next set of smugglers tried at theassizes, a task which the Advocate accepted with apparent gratitude andhumility. For from the little man's snuff-taking and easy-going, idlingways, Boyd had taken him for a briefless advocate. 

"Faith, sir, come to Galloway, " he cried open-heartedly--"there's theplace to provide work for the like of you lads. And it's Boyd Connowaywill introduce you to all the excise-case defendants from Annan Port toLoch Ryan. It's him that knows every man and mother's son of them! Andwho, if ye plaise, has a better right?"

CHAPTER XXXV

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW

"The strongest mental tonic in the world is solitude, but it takes astrong mind, fully equipped with thoughts, aims, work, to support itlong without suffering. But once a man has made his best companion ofhis own mind, he has learned the secret of living. "

So I had written in an essay on Senancour during the days when thelittle white house was but a dream, and Irma had never come to me acrossthe cleared space in front of Greyfriars Kirk amid the thud of malletsand the "chip" of trowels. But Irma taught me better things. She knewwhen to be silent. She understood, also, when speech would slacken thetension of the mind. As I sat writing by the soft glow of the lamp Icould hear the rustle of her house-dress, the sharp, almost inaudible, _tick-tick_ of her needle, and the soft sound as she smoothed out herseam. Little things that happen to everybody, but--well, I for one hadnever noticed them before. 

It seemed as if this period of contentment would always continue. Thepresent was so good that, save a little additional in the way of income, I asked for no better. 

But one day the Advocate rudely shook my equanimity. 

"You must have some of your family--some good woman--to be with Irma. Write at once!"

I could only look at him in amazement. 

"Why, Irma is very well, " I said; "she never looked better in her life. "

"My boy, " said the Advocate, laying his hand gently on my arm, "I haveloved a wife, and I have lost a wife who loved me; I do not wish tostand by and let you do the same for the want of a friend's word. Writeto-night!"

And he turned on his heel and marched off. At twenty steps' distance heturned. "Duncan, " he said, "we will need all your time at the _Review_;you had better give up the Secretary's office. I have spoken to Morrisonabout it. I shall be so much in London for a year or two that you willbe practically in charge. We will get a smart young colleger to takeyour place. "

That night I wrote to my Aunt Janet. It was after Irma, fatigued moreeasily than was usual with her, had gone to bed. Four days afterwards, Iwas looking over some manuscript sheets which that day had to go to theprinter. Mistress Pathrick, who had just arrived to prepare thebreakfast (I had lit the kitchen fire when I got up), burst in upon mewith the announcement that there was "sic a gathering o' folk" at thedoor, and a "great muckle owld woman coming in!"

I hastened down, and there in the little lobby stood--my grandmother. She was arrayed in her oldest black bombazine. A travel-crushed beaverbonnet was clapped tightly on her head. The black velvet band about herwhite hair had slipped down and now crossed her brow transversely alittle above one bushy eyebrow, giving an inconceivably rakishappearance to her face. She held a small urchin, evidently from theGrassmarket or the Cowgate, firmly by the cuff of his ragged jacket. Shewas threatening him with her great blue umbrella. 

"If ye hae led me astray, ye skirmishing blastie, I'll let ye ken theweight o' this!"

The youth was guarding himself with one hand and declaring alternatelythat, "This is the hoose, mem, " and, "I want my saxpence!"

A little behind two sturdy porters, laden with a box apiece, blocked upthe doorway, and loomed large across the garden. 

"Eh, Duncan, but this is an awesome place, " cried my grandmother. "Somany folk, and it's pay this, and so much for that! It's a fairdisgrace. There's no man in Eden Valley that wadna hae been pleased togie me a lift from the coach wi' my bit boxes. But here, certes, it'ssae muckle for liftin' them up and sae muckle more for settin' themdoon, and to crown a' a saxpence to a laddie for showin' me the road toyour house! It's a terrible difference to Heathknowes, laddie. Now, Iwadna wonder if ye hae to pay for your very firewood!"

I assured her that we had neither peat nor woodcutting privileges on theMeadows, and to change the subject asked her if she would not go up andsee Irma. 

"A' in guid time, " she said. "I hae a word or two to ask ye first, laddie. No that muckle is to be expected o' a man that wad write to puirJanet Lyon instead o' to _me_, Duncan MacAlpine!"

As I did not volunteer anything, she exclaimed, stamping her foot, "Dinna stand there glowering at me. Man alive, Duncan lad, ye can hae noidea how like an eediot ye can look when ye put your mind to it!"

I had been reared in the knowledge that it was a vain thing to arguewith my grandmother, so I listened patiently to all she had to say, andI answered, to the best of my ability, all the questions she asked. Mostshe seemed to have no need to ask at all, for she knew the answersbefore they were out of my mouth, and paid no attention to my wordswhen I did get in a word. 

"Humph, you are stupider than most men, and that's saying no trifle!"was her comment when all was finished. 

I asked Mary Lyon if there was nothing I could do to assist her--helpwith her unpacking, or any trifle like that. 

"Aye, there is, " she answered, with her old verve, "get out o' thehouse, man, and leave me to my work while you do yours. "

I took my hat, the cane which the Advocate had given me, and with themmy way to the office of the _Universal Review. _ I had a busy day, whichperhaps was as well, for all the time my mind was wandering disconsolateabout the little white house above the Meadows. 

I returned to find all well, my supper laid in the kitchen and thecontents of grandmother's trunks apparently filling the rest of thehouse. Irma gave me a little, perfunctory kiss; said, "Oh, if you couldonly----!" and so vanished to where my grandmother was unfolding stillmore things and other treasures to the rustle of fine tissue paper, andthe gasps and little hand-clappings of Irma. 

Those who know my grandmother do not need to be told that she tookpossession of our house and all that was therein, of Irma so completelythat practically I was only allowed to bid my wife "Good-morning" underthe strictest supervision, and of Mistress Pathrick--who, after one soletaste of my grandmother's tongue, had retired defeated with the mutteredcriticism that "that tongue o' the auld leddy's could ding a' theLuckenbooths--aye, and the West Bow as weel. " However, once subjected, she proved a kindly and a willing slave. I have, however, my suspicionsthat in these days Mr. Pathrick McGrier, ex-janitor of the Latinclassroom, had but a poor time of it so far as the preparation of hismeals went, and as to housekeeping she was simply not there. 

For she slept now under the stairs in a lair she had rigged up forherself, which she said was "rale comfortable, " but certainly to theunaccustomed had an air of great stuffiness. 

But I need not write at large what, after all, is no unique experience. One night, upon my grandmother's pressing invitation, I walked out onBruntsfield Links, and kicked stones into the golfers' holes forsomething to do. It was full moon, I remember, and away to the north thecity slept while St. Giles jangled fitfully. I had come there to be awayfrom the little white house, where Irma was passing through the firstperil of great waters which makes women's faces different ever after--afew harder, most softer, none ever the same. 

Ten times I came near, stumbling on the short turf, my feet numb anduncertain beneath me, my limbs flageolating, and my heart rent with aman's helplessness. I called upon God as I had not done in my lifebefore. I had been like many men--so long as I could help myself, I sawno great reason for troubling the Almighty who had already so much onHis hands. But now I could do nothing. I had an appalling sense ofimpotence. So I remembered that He was All-powerful, and just because Ihad never asked anything with true fervour before, He would the moresurely give this to me. So at least I argued as I prayed. 

And, sure enough, the very next time I coasted the northern shore of theMeadows, as near as I dared, there came one running towards me, clearin the moonlight--Mistress Pathrick it was and no other. 

"A laddie--a fine laddie!" she panted, waving both her hands in herenthusiasm. 

"And Irma?" I cried, for that did not interest me at that moment, no, not a pennyworth. 

"A bhoy--as foine a bhoy----"

"Tell me, how is Irma?" I shouted--"quick!"

"Wud turn the scale at eleven, divil a ounce less----"

"Woman, tell me how is my wife!" I thundered, lifting up my hands, "orI'll twist your foolish neck!"

"Keep us!" said Mrs. Pathrick, "why, how should she be? Did ye expectshe would be up and bating the carpets?"

In half-a-dozen springs, as it seemed, I was within the gate. Then theclear, shrill wail with which a new soul prisoned in an unfamiliar bodytrumpets its discontent with the vanities of this world stopped me dead. Scarce knowing what I did, I took off my boots. I trod softly. 

There was a hush now in the house--a sudden stoppage of that shrillbugle-note. I came upon my grandmother, as it seemed, moulding a littleruddy bundle, with as much apparent ease and absence of fuss as if ithad been a pat of butter in the dairy at home. 

And when she put my firstborn son into my arms, I had no high thoughts. I trembled, indeed, but it was with fear lest I should drop him. 

Presently his nurse took him again, grumbling at the innate andincurable handlessness of men. Could I see Irma? Certainly not. Whatwould I be doing, disturbing the poor thing? Very likely she was asleep. Oh, I had promised to go, had I? Well, she had nothing to do with that. But Irma would be expecting me! Oh, as to that, lad, lad, do not troubleyourself. She will be resting in a peace like the peace of the Lord, asyou might know, if ever a man could know anything about such things. 

Just for a minute? Well, then--a minute, and no more. Mind, she, MaryLyon, would be at the door. I was not to speak even. 

As I went in, Irma lifted her arms a little way and then let them fall. There was a kind of shiny dew on her face, little but chill to the touchof my lips. And, ah, how wistful her smile!

"Your ... Little ... Girl, " she whispered, "has deserved ... Well ... Ofher country. I hope he will be brave ... Like his father. I prayed allmight be well ... For your sake, my dear. His name is to be Duncan.... Yes, Duncan Louis Maitland!"

I had been kneeling at the bedside, kneeling and, well--perhaps sobbing. But at that moment I felt a hand on my collar. The next I was on myfeet, and so, with only one glimpse of Irma's smile at my fate, I foundmyself outside the room. 

"What was it I telled ye?--Not to excite her! Was it no?"

And Mary Lyon showed me the way down to the kitchen, which I hadforgotten, where, on condition of not making a noise, I was to bepermitted for the present to abide. 

"But mind you, " she added, threateningly, "not a foot-sole are ye to seton thae stairs withoot my permission. Or, my certes, lad, but ye willhear aboot it!"

Decidedly I was a man under authority. The extraordinary thing was thatI was cautioned to make no noise, and there in the next room was thatred imp yelling the roof off, yet neither of his female relativesseemed to mind in the least, though his remarks interfered veryseriously with the article on "Irrigation Systems of Southern Europe, "which I was working up for the _Universal_. 

But when was a mere man (and breadwinner) considered at such times?

In all truly Christian and charitable cities refuges should be built fortemporarily dispossessed, homeless, and hungry heads of families. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE SUPPLANTER

Never did I realize so clearly the difference between what interests thepeople in a great city and those inhabiting remote provinces as when, inmid-August, I took Irma and my firstborn son down to the wholesomebreath and quiet pine shadows of Heathknowes. I had seen the autumnalnumber of the _Universal_ safe into its wrapper of orange and purple. InEdinburgh the old town and the new alike thrilled and hummed with thenoise of a contested election. There were processions, hustings, battlesroyal everywhere, the night made hideous, the day insupportable. 

But here, looking from the door out of the sheltering arms of Marnhoulwood into the peace of the Valley, the ear could discern only the hum ofthe pirn-mill buzzing like a giant insect in the greenest of the shade, and farther off the whisper of the sea on the beaches and coves aboutKillantringan. 

Now we had taken rather a roundabout road and rested some nights on theway, for I had business at Glasgow--a great and notable professor tovisit at the college, and in the library several manuscripts to consult. So Irma remained with the Wondrous Duncan the Second at the inn of theWhite Horse, where the coach stopped. 

When I came back I thought that Irma's face looked a trifle flushed. Idiscovered that, having asked the hostler to polish her shoes, he hadrefused with the rudeness common to his class when only rooms of thecheaper sort are engaged. Whereupon Irma, who would not let her temperget the better of her, had forthwith gone down to the pantry, taken theutensils and done them herself. 

I said not much to her, but to the landlord and especially to the manhimself I expressed myself with fulness and a vigour which the latter, at least, was not likely to forget for some time. 

It was as well, however, that my grandmother was not there. For in thatcase murder might have been done, had she known of the scullion's answerand what Irma had done. Well also, on the whole, for us that she hadrefused to keep us company. For having been only once in a great city inher life, and never likely to be there again, Mary Lyon made the most ofher time. She had had two trunks when she came to our gate. Four wouldnot have held all that she travelled with on her way back. And when weremonstrated on the cost, she said, "Oh, fidget! 'Tis many a day since Icost anything to speak of to the goodman. He can brave and weel affordto pay for a trifle o' luggage. "

Accordingly she never passed a fruit stall without yearning to buy theentire stock-in-trade "for the neighbours that have never seen siccan athing as a sweet orange in their lives--lemons being the more marketablecommodity in Eden Valley. "

She had also as many commissions, for which she looked to be paid, as ifshe had been a commercial traveller. There were half-a-dozen "swatches"to be matched for Aunt Jen--cloth to supply missing "breadths, " yarn tomend the toes of stockings, ribbons which would transform the ancientdingy bonnet into a wonder of beauty on the day of the summer communion. She had "patterns" to buy dress-lengths of--from the byre-lasses brownor drab to stand the stress of out-of-door--checked blue and white forthe daintier dairy-worker among her sweet milk and cheese. 

Even groceries, and a taste of the stuff they sell in town for "baconham"--to be sniffed at and to become the butt for all the goodwives inthe parish--no tea, for Mary Lyon knew where that could be got betterand cheaper, but a _Pilgrim's Progress_ for a neighbour lad who wasknown to be fond of the reading and deserved to be encouraged--lastly, as a vast secret, a gold wedding-ring which could not be bought withouttalk in Eden Valley itself. Grandmother did not tell us for whom thiswas intended. Nor did we know, till the little smile lurking at thecorner of her mouth revealed the mystery, when Agnes Anne came home fromthe kirk and named who had been "cried" that day. It was no other thanour sly Eben--and Miss Gertrude Greensleeves was the name of thebride--far too young for him, of course, but--he had taken his motherinto his confidence and not a man of us dared say a word. Doubtless thewomen did, but even they not in the hearing of Mary Lyon. 

But now we were at rest, and quite ten days ago grandmother had arrivedwith her cargo. The commissions were all distributed. The parish had hada solid week to get over its amazement. And, to put all in thebackground, there had been a successful run into Portowarren and anotherthe same night to Balcary--a thing not often done in the very height ofsummer. Yet, because the preventive men were not expecting it, perhapssafer then than at any other time. 

And above all and swamping all the endless talk of a busy, heartsomefarm-town! Ah, how good it was. Even the little god in the "ben" room, Master Duncan Maitland MacAlpine, had times and seasons without aworshipper, all because there was a young farmer's son in the kitchentelling of his experiences "among the hills, " with the gaugers behindthem, and the morn breaking fast ahead. 

How they must get to a place where they could hide, a place with water, where they could restore their beasts and repose themselves, a place ofgreat shadowing rocks in a weary land. For of a certainty the sun wouldsmite by day, even if the moon afforded them guidance over the waste bynight. 

Or Boyd Connoway would tell of the _Golden Hind_ having been seen out inthe channel, of rafts of "buoyed" casks sunk to within three foot of thebottom, to be fished up when on a dark night the herring craft slippedout of Balcary or the Scaur, silent as a shadow. 

Or mayhap (and this, married or single, Irma liked best of all) therecame in some shy old farmer from the uplands, or perhaps a herd, towhose boy or girl "out at service" the mistress of Heathknowes hadbrought home a Bible. These had come to thank Mary Lyon, but could notget a word out. They sipped their currant wine as if it were medicineand moved uneasily on the edges of their chairs. They had excellentmanners stowed away somewhere--the natural well-bredness of the hill andthe heather, but in a place like that, with so many folk, it seemed asif they had somehow mislaid them. 

Then was Irma's time. She would glide in, her face still pale, ofcourse, but with such a gracious sweetness upon it that the shyest wassoon at his ease. Here was a cup, an embarrassment to the hand. Shewould fill its emptiness, not with Aunt Jen's currant wine, but withgood Hollands--not to the brim, because the owner would spill it overand so add the finishing touch to his bashfulness. She sat down by theoldest, the shaggiest, the roughest, and in a moment (as if, like afairy of Elfland, she had waved her wand) old Glencross of Saltflats, who only talked in monosyllables to his own wife, was telling Irma allabout the prospects of his hay crop, and the bad look-out there wasalong the Colvend shore owing to the rabbits breeding on the green hillpastures. 

"Oh, but I'll thin them, missie, " he affirmed, in response to her lookof sympathy, "ow aye, there are waur things than hare soup and rabbitpie. Marget" (his wife) "is a great hand at the pie. Ye maun come owersome day and taste--you and your guidman. I will send ye word by thatdaft loon Davie. "

Then with hardly an effort, now that the ice was broken, turning to mygrandmother, "Eh, mistress, but it was awesome kind and mindfu' o' youto fetch the laddie a Bible a' the road frae Enbra. I hae juist beenpromising him a proper doing, a regular flailing if he doesna read in itevery nicht afore he says his prayers. "

Needless to say Davie had promised--but as to Davie's after performanceno facts have been put on record. Still, he had his Bible and was proudof it. 

Then Irma, safe in her married state, would set herself down by someshy, horny-fisted fellow, all nose and knuckles. She would draw him awayfrom his consciousness of the Adam's apple in his throat (which heprivately felt every one must be looking at) and give him a goodsympathetic quarter of an hour all to himself. She would smile and smileand be a villain to her heart's content, till the lad's tongue would atlast be loosened, and he would tell how he tried for first prize at thelast ploughing match, and boast how he would have been first only forhis "coulter blunting on a muckle granite stane. " He would relate withexactness how many queys his father had, the records of mortality amongthe wintering sheep, the favourable prospects of the springlambs--"abune the average--aye, I will not deny, clean abune theaverage. "

So he would sit and talk, and gaze and gaze, till there entered into hissoul the strong desire to work, to rise up and conquer fate and narrowhorizons--so that in time, like a certain Duncan MacAlpine (whom verylikely, as a big country fellow, he had thrashed at school), it mighthappen to him to have by his fireside something dainty and sweet andwith great sympathetic eyes and a smile--_like that_!

We had only a little while of this, however, for on the morrow Louis wasto arrive from school, safely escorted by Freddy Esquillant andhalf-a-dozen students, who had made a jovial party all the way fromEdinburgh. 

Now I may write myself down a selfish brute by the confession I am goingto make. But all the same, the thing is true and had better be owned upto, all the more in the light of what afterwards happened. I had nogreat wish that Louis should join our little party, which with theadvent of little Master Red Knuckles, had been rendered quite complete. It was, I admit, an unworthy jealousy. But I thought that as Irma hadalways been so passionately devoted to Louis--and also because she had, as I sometimes teased myself by imagining, only come to me because shehad lost Louis--his coming back would--_might_, I had the grace to sayon second thoughts, deprive me of some part of my hard-earnedheritage--the love of the woman who was all to me. For with me, hisunworthy father, even Duncan Maitland had not yet begun to count. Witha man that comes later. 

This is my confession, and once made, let us pass on. I had even thenthe grace to be ashamed--at least, rather. 

Louis arrived. He had grown into a tall lad with long hair ofstraw-coloured gold, that shone with irregular reflections like muffledmoonlight on a still but gently rippling sea. He was quieter, and seemedsomehow different. He was now all for his books and solitude, and satlong in the room that had been given him for a bedroom and study--thatwith the window looking out on the wood. It was the quietest in thehouse--not only because of our youthful bull of Bashan and his roaring, but because it was at the farthest end of the long rambling house, awayfrom the stables and cattle sheds. 

However, he seemed delighted to see Irma, and sat a long time with herhand in his. But I, who knew her well, noticed that there was not now onher face the old strained attention to all that her brother said or did. It was in another direction that her ears and thoughts were turned, andat the first cry from baby's cot she rose quietly, disengaging her handwithout remark before disappearing into the bedroom-nursery. In anothermoment I could see my grandmother pass the window drying her hands onher apron. I knew from the ceasing of the plunging thud of the dasherthat she had called a substitute to the churning. The dasher was now inthe hands of Aunt Jen, who handled it with a shorter, more irrasciblestroke. 

Left alone with him, I talked to Louis a while of his studies, of thegames the boys played at school, of the length of the holidays. But toall these openings and questionings he responded in a dull anduninterested fashion. I could not but feel that he resented bitterlythe marriage which had come between his sister and himself. He had had, of course, a place to come to on Saturdays and Sunday afternoons, but Ihad seen little of him then. My work was generally absorbing, and when Ihad time to give to Irma, I wanted her all to myself. So I had falleninto a habit, neither too kind nor yet too wise, of taking to my writingor my proofs as often as Louis came to our house. 

Now, from the glances he cast at the door by which Irma had gone out, Isaw that he too was suffering from jealousy--even as I had done. He wasjealous of that inarticulate Jacob which comes into so many houses as atiny Supplanter--the first baby!

After a quarter of an hour he rose and got out of the room quickly. Icould hear him go to his own room and shut the door. When Irma and MaryLyon had reduced our small bundle of earthquake to a sulky and plaintivereason, she came back to talk to her brother. Finding him gone, sheasked where Louis was, and immediately followed him to his chamber, doubtless to continue their conversation. 

But she returned after a while with a curious gleam on her face, sayingthat doubtless travel had given her brother a headache. He had shut hisdoor with the bolt, and was lying down. 

I was on the point of asking Irma if he had answered when she called tohim, but remembered in time that I had better not meddle in what did notconcern me. If Louis behaved like a bear, it would only throw Irma themore completely upon me. And this, at the time, I was selfish enough towish for. 

Afterwards--well, I had, as all men have, many things to reproach myselffor--this stupid jealousy being by no means the least or the lightest. 

Still, on the whole I had a great deal of peace and the composure ofthe quiet mind during these first days at Heathknowes. My father, almostfor the first time in his life, withdrew himself from his desk, and tooka walk beyond the confines of the Academy Wood to see his grandson, keeping, however, his hands still behind him according to his custom inschool. My mother, even, arranged with Agnes Anne to take thepost-office duties during her absence, and seemed pleased in her quietway to hold the boy in her arms. In this, however, she was notencouraged by Mary Lyon, who soon took Duncan away on the plea that hecried, except with her. Duncan the Second certainly stopped as soon ashe felt my grandmother's strong, well-accustomed hands grasp him. Yetshe was not in the least tender with him. On the contrary, she heavedhim, as it were promiscuously, over one shoulder with his head hangingdown her back, and tucking his swathed legs under one armpit sheproceeded about her household business, as if wholly disembarrassed--allthe while Duncan never uttering a word. 

But through all the talk of the weather and the crops, the night runs toKirk Anders and the Borgue shore, the capture made by the preventives atthe Hass of the Dungeon, the misdoings of Tim Cleary who had got sevendays for giving impudence to the Provost of Dumfries in his owncourt-room, there pierced the strange sough of politics. 

The elections were upon us also in Galloway, and the Governmentcandidate was reported to be staying at Tereggles with the LordLieutenant. He had not yet been seen, but (it was, of course, BoydConnoway who brought us word) his name was the Honourable LalorMaitland, late Governor of the Meuse--a province in the Low Countries. 

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE RETURN OF THE SERPENT TO EDEN VALLEY

I did not tell Irma, and I enjoined silence on all about the house. Butthere was no keeping such a thing, and perhaps it was as well. JoKettle's father, always keen to show his wit at the expense of hisbetters, cried out to me in the hearing of Irma, "How much, besides hispardon, has that uncle of yours gotten in guineas for his treachery?"

And when I protested ignorance, he added, "I mean the new grandGovernment candidate, that has been sae lang in the Netherlands, and wasa rebel not so long ago--many is the braw lad's head that he has garredroll in the sawdust, I warrant. "

For it was currently reported of Lalor in his own day that he had been aspy for the King of France as well as for King George--aye, andafterwards against the emigrants at Coblentz in the service of theRevolution. Indeed, I do think there is little doubt but that, at sometime of his life, the man had been in such a desperate way that he hadspied and betrayed whoever trusted him to whomsoever would pay for histreachery. 

"Lalor Maitland--is he, then, in the country?" said Irma, with a whiteand frightened look. "I must get home--to Baby!"

So completely had her heart changed its magnetic pole. Poor Louis, smallwonder he was jealous--and rightly, not of me, but of the small andleathern-lunged person who from his cot ruled the order of the house, and made even the cheerful hum of the fireside, the yard cock-crowing ofthe fowls, and the egg-kekkling in the barn yield to his imperiouswill. For he had them banished the precincts and shut up till hishighness should please to awaken. 

But when we got to the Heathknowes road-end, we beheld a yellow coach, with four horses, a coachman and two outriders, all three incanary-coloured suits. 

It was early days for such equipages to be seen in Galloway, where, excluding the post-road on which the Irish mail ran from Dumfries toStranraer, there were few roads and fewer bridges which would bear acoach-and-four. Owing to the pirn-mill, our bridges were a littlestronger than usual, though the roads were worn into deep ruts by the"jankers, " or great two-wheeled wagons for the transport of trees out ofthe woods. 

The carriage drove right up to the outer gate of the yard ofHeathknowes, half the idle laddies of Eden Valley running shouting afterit. The "yett, " as usual, was barred, and it is more than doubtfulwhether, even if open, the coach could safely have passed within--sonarrow was the space between post and post. 

But the man inside put his head out of the window and gave a short, sharp order. Whereupon the postilions leaped down and stood to theirhorses' heads. The canary coachman held his hands high, with the reinsdrooping upon his knees. A footman jumped out of a little niche by theside of one window in which his life must have been almost shaken out ofhim. He opened the door with the deepest respect, and out there steppedthe bravest and finest-dressed gentleman that had ever been seen. 

He was middle-sized and slight, no longer young, but of an uncertainage. He wore a powdered wig, with sky-blue coat and shorts, a whitewaistcoat embroidered with dainty sprig patterns of lavender andforget-me-not. He had on white silk stockings and the most fashionableshoes, tied with blue-and-gold governmental favours instead of ordinarybuckles. By his side was a sword with a golden hilt--in short, such acavalier had never been seen in Galloway within living memory. 

And at the sight of him Louis ran forward, calling, "Uncle, uncle!" ButIrma sank gently down on my shoulder, so that I had to take her in myarms and carry her to her chamber. 

At first I stood clean dumfounded, as indeed well I might. When Lalorcame last to Eden Valley he had been one of the Black Smugglers, a greatman on the _Golden Hind_--little better, to be brief, than a commonpirate. He and his had assaulted the house of Marnhoul, with a pretenceof legal purpose, no doubt, but really merely levying war in a peacefulcountry. 

Now here he was back, arrayed sumptuously, the favourite of theGovernment at London, the guest of the Lord Lieutenant of the county. 

I could not explain it, and, indeed, till Irma came to herself, I hadlittle time or inclination to think the matter out. But afterwards manythings which had been dark became clear, while others, though stillremaining mysterious, began to have a certain dim light cast upon them. 

What seemed clear was that Lalor had all along benefited by mysteriousprotections, and the authorities, though apparently anxious for hiscapture, never really put themselves about in the least. They did notwant to catch or imprison Lalor Maitland. He was much more useful tothem elsewhere. Whereas the children of a disaffected rebel, consideredas claimants to the Maitland estates, were of little account. 

But the action of Louis Maitland for the first time opened my eyes toanother matter. A corner of the veil which had hid a plot was lifted. During all the time that Irma had been with her Aunt Kirkpatrick, eversince Louis entered Sympson's Classic Academy (kept by Dr. Sympson, grandson of the old Restoration Curate of Kirkmabreek), Lalor had beenin Edinburgh, pursuing his plans in secret, perhaps (who knows?) withthe learned assistance and council of Mr. Wringham Pollixfen Poole, thatexpert with the loaded riding-whip. 

We had been far too busy with our own affairs--the marriage, the littlehouse, my work at the _Review_, and more recently the appearance andproviding for of Duncan the Second. We had seen Louis on Saturdays, andon Sundays, too, at times. But, to our shame be it said, we knew verylittle about his life at school, who were his friends, what his actualthoughts. For this I shall never cease to reproach myself--at leastoccasionally, when I think about it. 

But Lalor had appeared in splendour at Dr. Sympson's, had introducedhimself as an uncle from abroad. He was in high favour with theGovernment. He had the most magnificent coach in the city, and, apparently, plenty of money. He had early warned Louis that we--that is, Irma and I--must hear nothing of his visits, otherwise these pleasantjaunts would be stopped--the afternoon treats to Duddingstone andLochend, the sails on the Firth with young Walter, the Doctor's son, ashis companion. For Lalor was so wise that he never asked him out alone. So Louis had been silent, bribed by the liberty and the golden guineas, which were as plentiful with Lalor as they were scarce with Irma andmyself. The Doctor was charmed with his visitor, the ex-governor of agreat province in the Netherlands (which he looked out in theEncyclopædia and lectured upon)--and as for Walter, his son, at thatdate he would have bartered his soul for five hours' absence from thepaternal academy and a dozen sticks of toffee. 

Then with what unwonted and flattering deference the boy's entertainerhad treated him. To him he was Sir Louis, the head of the house. Hewould heir its great properties, the value and extent of which had beenhidden from him by Irma and myself. Doubtless we had our own reasons forthus concealing the truth, but Uncle Lalor's position with theGovernment enabled him to assure Sir Louis that, through his influence, all its ancient dignities would be restored to the family. 

Hence it was that, at the first sight of the slim man with the powderedwig tied in a gay favour behind his back, Louis had run and flunghimself into his arms. Perhaps, also, it had something to do with hisdisappointment in Irma, and it was in this open way that he chose topunish her. 

Yet when Lalor Maitland had come into the parlour, and I had spoken withhim, the man's frank and smiling recognition of the circumstances, hishigh, easy manner, an old-world politeness as of one long familiar withcourts, yet a kindly gentleman withal, prepossessed me in his favoureven against myself. 

"Well, " he said, with that rare smile which distinguished him, "here wehave the fortune of war. You and I have met before, sir, and there arefew that have faced me as you did, being at the time only a boy--and notmyself only, but Dick, the boldest man on the _Golden Hind_. "

He tapped a careless tattoo on the table with his fingers. 

"Ah, they were good days, after all, " he said; "mad days--when it waswin ten thousand or walk the plank every time the brig put her noseoutside the harbour bar!"

"It turned out the ten thousand, I presume?" I said, without too muchunbending. 

"Oh, " he answered lightly, "as to myself, I was never very deeplyentered. I had ever an anchor out to windward. It was rare that I actedwithout orders, and, having been in a high official position, it was inmy power to render certain important services to the Government of thiscountry--for which, I may say, they have not proved themselves lessungrateful than is the way of governments. "

"So it would seem, " I answered. 

"But, " he continued, "I called chiefly to renew my acquaintance with mysometime wards--though one of them has sought another and a betterguardian" (here he bowed very gracefully to me), "and the other--well, Louis lad, what have you to say to your old uncle?"

The boy came bounding up, and stood close by his chair, smoothing thelace of Lalor's sleeve, his eyes full of happiness and confidence. Itwas a pretty sight, and for a moment I confess I was baffled. Could itbe that after all Louis was right and Irma wrong? Could this man havesupposed that the children were being held against their will andinterest, or at least fraudulently removed from their legal guardian, when he assaulted the old house of Marnhoul?

Perhaps, as I began to surmise, we had on that occasion really owed ourlives to him. For had the _Golden Hinds_ all come on at a time, theywould undoubtedly, being such a crew of cut-throats, have rushed us andeaten us up in no time. 

Women, I tried to persuade myself, had dislikes even more inexplicablethan their likings. Some early, unforgiven, childish prejudice, perhaps. Women do not easily forgive, except those whom they love, and even theseonly so long as they continue to love them. For many women the phrase inthe Lord's Prayer, "as we forgive them that trespass against us, " hadbetter be expunged. It is a dead letter. The exceptions are so rare asto prove the rule--and even they, though they may forgive their enemies, draw the line at forgiving their neighbours. 

"And am I not to see my fair enemy, Madame--ah, Duncan MacAlpine? I wishto have the honour of felicitating her infinite happiness, and I havetaken the liberty of bringing her an old family jewel for heracceptance. "

"My wife, sir, " I said, "is not yet well. She is subject to suddenshock, and I fear----"

"Ah, I understand, " he said, bowing gravely, and with a touch ofmelancholy which became him vastly; "I never had the good fortune toplease the lady--as you have done. "

He smiled again, and waved away a clumsy attempt of mine to reply. 

"But that is my misfortune--perhaps, though unconsciously, my fault. Still, there is the trinket. I leave it in your hands, in trust forthose of your wife. My respectful duty and service to her and--to theheir of your house! Come, Louis, will you have a ride in the coach asfar as the bridge and back? I have left my Lord Lieutenant therevisiting some of his doubtful tenants. I will pick him up when he isready, and then bring this little friend of mine back. "

That night Louis wept and stamped in a black anger. 

"I don't want to stop here, " he said; "I want to go with Uncle Lalor inthe gilded coach. "

CHAPTER XXXVIII

BY WATER AND THE WORD

During my holidays at Heathknowes I found myself necessarily in frequentcommunication with my Lord Advocate. For though I was the actual, he wasthe ultimate editor of the _Universal Review_. I felt that he had doneso much for me, and that we were now on such terms that I might withoutpresumption ask him a private question about Lalor Maitland. Because, knowing the man to have been mixed with some very doubtful business, Iwondered that a man of such honour and probity as the Advocate would inany circumstances act by such means--much less countenance his being putforward in the Government interest at a contested election. 

I will give the text of the Advocate's reply in so far as it deals withLalor: "Have as little as possible to do in a private capacity with'your Connection by Marriage'" (for so he continued to style him). "Inpublic affairs we must often use sweeps to explore dark and tortuouspassages. Persons who object to fyle themselves cannot be expected toclean drains. You take my metaphor? Your 'Relative by Marriage' hasproved himself a useful artist in cesspools. That is all. He has notswept clean, but he has swept. He has, on several occasions, been usefulto the Government when a better man would never have earned salt to hiskail. Publicly, therefore, he is an estimable servant of the Government. Privately I would not touch him with the point of my shoe. For inpersonal relations such men are always dangerous. See to it that youand yours have as little to do with him as possible. "

There in a nutshell was the whole philosophy of politics. "For dirtyjobs use dirty tools"--and of such undoubtedly was Lalor Maitland. 

But I judged that, having come through so many vicissitudes, and movingnow with a certain name and fame, he would, for his own sake, do us noopen harm. Rather, as witness little Louis, he would exploit the ancientrenown of the Maitlands, their standing in Galloway, and his friendshipwith the heir of their estates. 

It seemed to me that Louis was entirely safe, especially in the goodhands of the Lord Lieutenant, and that the great rewards which LalorMaitland had received from the Government constituted in some measurethe best security against any dangerous plotting. 

And in all the electoral campaign that followed, certain it is thatLalor showed only his amiable side, taking all that was said against himwith a smiling face, yet as ready with his sword as with his tongue, andso far as courage went (it must be allowed) in no way disgracing the oldand well-respected name of the Maitlands of Marnhoul. But I must tellyou of the fate which befell the jewel he had left in my hands for Irma. Whether it had ever belonged to the family of Maitland or not, I shouldgreatly doubt. It was a hoop of rubies set with brilliants, which atwill could make a bracelet for the wrist, or a kind of tiara for thehair. It was placed in a lined box of morocco leather, called an"ecrin, " and stood out as beautifully against the faded blue of thevelvet as a little tangled wisp of sunset cloud lost in an evening sky. 

But Irma flashed out when I showed it her. 

"How dare you?" she cried, and seizing the box she shut it with a snaplike her own white teeth. Then, the window being open, she threw it intothe low shrubbery at the orchard end, whence, after she had gone tobaby, I had no great trouble in recovering it. For it seemed to me toogood to waste, and would certainly be of more use to me than to thefirst yokel who should pass that way. 

Under ordinary circumstances Lalor would certainly have been defeated. First of all, though doubtless belonging to an ancient family of thecountry, he was, with his gilded coach and display of wealth gotten noone could just say how or where, in speech and look an outsider. Hisopponent, Colonel MacTaggart of the Stroan, called familiarly "TheCornel" was one of the brave, sound, stupid, jovial country gentlemenwho rode once a week to market at Dumfries, never missed a Court day atKirkcudbright, did his duty honourably in a sufficiently narrow round, and was worshipped by his tenantry, with whose families he was on termsof extraordinary fondness and friendship. Altogether, to use the vulgaridiom, "The Cornel" was felt to be a safe man to "bring back Gallowayfish-guts to Galloway sea-maws. " Or, in other words, he would see to itthat patronage, like charity, should begin at home--and stop there. 

To set off against this, there was a strong feeling that Galloway hadbeen long enough in opposition. There appeared to be (and indeed therewas) no chance of overturning the Government. Why, then, should Gallowaydwell for seven more years in the cold and hungry shades ofopposition--able to growl, but quite unable to get the bone?

Lalor was brim-full of promises. He had been, if not a smuggler, atleast an associate of smugglers, and all along Solwayside that was nodisadvantage to him--in a country where all either dabbled in theillicit traffic, or, at best, looked the other way as the jinglingcaravans went by. 

Briefly, then, his Excellency Lalor Maitland, late Governor of theProvince of the Meuse, now a law-abiding subject of King George, wasduly elected and sent to Westminster to take his seat as representingthe lieges. The excitement calmed down almost at once. The gold coachwas seen no more. The preventive men and supervisors of excise wereneither up nor down. Galloway felt vaguely defrauded. I think many ofthose who voted for Lalor imagined that the excisemen and coastguardswould at once be recalled, and that henceforward cargoes from the Isleof Man and Rotterdam would be unloaded in broad daylight, instead of bythe pale light of the moon, without a single question being asked onbehalf of the revenue officers of King George. 

After Lalor's disappearance Louis Maitland was heavy and depressed forseveral days, staying long in his room and returning the shortestanswers when spoken to. Suddenly one morning he declared his intentionof going to Dumfries, and so on the following Wednesday my grandfatherand he drove thither by the coach road while I followed behind onhorseback. It was the purpose of Louis Maitland to have speech with thelawyers. So, knowing the temper in which he had been since his uncle'sdeparture, I let him go up alone, but afterwards had speech with theyounger Mr. Smart on my own account. 

He smiled when I mentioned Sir Louis and his mission. 

"He wishes to go up to London to his cousin--he calls him his uncle, Mr. Lalor, your fine new Government member for the county!"

"I judged as much, " said I, "but I hope you have not given him any suchpermission. "

"He can take all the permission he wishes after he is twenty-one, " saidMr. Smart; "at present he has a good many years before him at Sympson'sAcademy. There he may occupy himself in turning the old curate's _ThreePatriarchs_ into Latin. As to his holidays, he can spend them with hissister or stay on in Edinburgh with the Doctor. But London is not aplace for a young gentleman of such exalted notions of his ownimportance--'You bury me at a farmhouse with a family of boors!'--waswhat he said. Now, that smells Mr. Lalor a mile off. But the lad is notmuch to blame, and I hope you will not let it go any farther. "

"Certainly not, " said I, "the boy was only quoting!"

I returned from this interview considerably relieved, but for some daysSir Louis was visibly cast down. 

However, I said nothing to Irma, only advising her to devote herself alittle more to her brother, at times when the exigencies of Duncan theSecond would leave her time and opportunity. 

"Why!" she said, with a quick gasp of astonishment, "I never forgetLouis--but of course baby needs me sometimes. I can't help that!"

If I had dared, I should have reminded her that baby appeared to needevery woman about the house of Heathknowes--to whom may be added mymother from the school-house, Mrs. Thomas Gallaberry (late Anderson), and a great and miscellaneous cloud of witnesses, to all of whom thecommonest details of toilet--baby's bath, his swathing and unbandaging, the crinkling of his face and the clenching of his fists, the curiouscurdled marbling upon his fat arms, even the inbending of his toes, wereobjects of a cult to which that of the Lama of Thibet was a common andopen secret. 

Even fathers were excluded as profane on such occasions, and the gaspsof feminine delight at each new evidence of genius were the only soundsthat might be heard even if you listened at the door, as, I admit, I wasoften mean enough to do. Yet the manifestations of the object ofworship, as overheard by me, appeared sufficiently human and ordinary tobe passed over in silence. 

I admit, however, that such was not the opinion of any of the regularworshippers at the shrine, and that the person of the opposite sex whowas permitted to warm the hero's bath-towel at the fire, became anobject of interest and envy to the whole female community. As for mygrandmother, I need only say that while Duncan the Second abode withinthe four walls of Heathknowes, not an ounce of decent edible butterpassed out of her dairy. Yet not a man of us complained. We knew better. 

There still remained, however, a ceremony to be faced which I could notlook forward to with equanimity. It had been agreed upon between us, that, though by the interference of our good friend the Advocate, we hadbeen married in the old private chapel attached to the Deanery, weshould defer the christening of Duncan the Second till "the Doctor"could perform the office--there being, of course, but one "Doctor" forall Eden Valley people--Doctor Gillespie, erstwhile Moderator of theKirk of Scotland. 

I had long been under reproach for my slackness in this matter. Inuendoes were mixed with odious comparisons upon Mary Lyon's tongue. If her daughter had only married a Cameronian, the bairn would have beenbaptized within seven days! Never had she seen an unchristened bairn solong about a house! But for them that sit at ease in an ErastianZion--she referred to my father, who was not only precentor but alsosession-clerk, and could by no means be said to sit at ease--shesupposed anything was good enough. It was different in her young days. She, at least, had been properly brought up. 

Finally, however, I went and put the case to the Doctor. He was ready tocome up to Heathknowes for the baptism. After his usual protest thataccording to rule it ought to be performed in sight of all thecongregation, he accepted the good reason that my grandfather andgrandmother, being ardent Cameronians, could not in that case bepresent. The Doctor had, of course, anticipated this objection. For heknew and respected the "kind of people" reared by four generations of"Societies, " and often (in private) held them up as ensamples to his ownflock. 

So to Heathknowes, the house of the Cameronian elder, there came, withall befitting solemnity, Doctor Gillespie, ex-Moderator of the Kirk ofScotland. Stately he stepped up the little loaning, followed by hissession, their clerk, my father at their head. At the sight of theDoctor arrayed in gown and bands, his white hair falling on his neck andtied with a black ribbon, the whole family of us instinctively uncoveredand stood bareheaded. My grandfather had gone down to the foot of thelittle avenue to open the gate for the minister. The Doctor smilinglyinvited him to walk by his side, but William Lyon had gravely shaken hishead and said, "I thank you, Doctor, but to-day, if you will grant methe privilege, I will walk with my brethren, the other elders of theKirk of God. "

And so he did, and as they came within sight of the house I took Irma bythe hand. For she trembled, and tears rose to her eyes as she saw thatsimple but dignified procession (like to that which moved out of thevestry on the occasion of the Greater Sacrament) approaching the house. The lads stood silent with bared heads. For once Duncan lay quiet in thearms of Mary Lyon--who that day would yield her charge to none, till shegave him to the mother, when the time should come, according to thePresbyterian rite, to stand up and place the firstborn in his father'sarms. 

There was only one blank in that gathering. Louis had gone to his ownroom, pretexing a headache, but really (as he blurted out afterwards)because his Uncle Lalor had said that Presbyterianism was no religionfor a gentleman. 

However, it was only afterwards that he was missed. 

The Doctor was great on such occasions. A surprising soft radiance, almost like a halo, surrounded his smooth snowy locks. A holy calm, exhaling from half a century of spotless life lived in the sight of allmen, spoke in every word, moved in every gesture. The elders stood aboutgrave and quiet. The great Bible lay open. The psalm of dedication wassung--of which the overword is, "Lo, children are God's heritage, " andthe conclusion the verse which no Scot forgets the world over, perhapsbecause it contains, quite unintentionally, so delightful a revelationof his own national character--

 "O happy is the man that hath His quiver filled with those: _They unashamed in the gate Shall speak unto their foes. _"

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE WICKED FLAG

"There's Boyd Connoway has been sitting on my front doorstep, " cried myAunt Jen, "and if I've telled the man once, I've telled him twentytimes!"

"But how do ye ken, Janet?" said her mother out of the still-room whereshe was brewing nettle-beer. "He is not there now!"

"How do I ken--fine that!" snapped Jen. "Do I no see my favourite checkpattern on his trousers!" said Jen, which, indeed, being plain to theeye of every beholder, admitted of no denial--except perhaps, owing topoint of view, by the unconscious wearer himself. He had sat down onthese mystic criss-crossings and whorls dear to the Galloway housewifefor her floor ornaments, while the whiting was still wet. 

"It's no wonder, " Jen pursued vengefully, "they may say what they like. An I were that man's wife, I wad brain him. Here he has been thelivelong day. Twa meals has he eaten. Six hours has he hung aboutmalingering. He came to roof the pigstye. He tore off the old thatch, and there it lies, and there will lie for him. If there is frost, Girzie's brood will be stiff by the morning. Then he 'had a look' at myroasting-jack and ... There it is!"

She indicated with an indignant sweep of the hand what she designated "arickle o' rubbish" as the net proceeds of Boyd's industry. 

The artist explained himself between the mouthfuls at his third repast. 

"Ye see, Miss Lyon, there's nocht that spoils good work like worry onthe mind. The pigs will do fine. I'll put a branch or two over them anda corn-sack over that. If a drap o' rain comes through it will onlyharden the wee grunties for the trials o' life. Aye" (here Boyd relapsedinto philosophy), "life is fu' o' trials, for pigs as weel as men. Butmen the worst--for as for pigs, their bread is given them and theirwater is sure. Now as for myself----"

"Yourself, " cried Aunt Jen, entering into one of her sudden rages, "ifye were half as much worth to the world as our old sow Girzie, ye wad besalted and hanging up by the heels now! As it is, ye run the countrylike Crazy, our collie, a burden to yourself and a nuisance to the worldat lairge!

"Eh, Miss Jen, but it's the word ye have, as I was sayin' to Rob McTurkup at the pirn-mill last Tuesday week. 'If only our Miss Jen there hadbeen a man, ' says I, 'it's never Lalor Maitland that would have beensent to sit in King George's High House o' Parliament. '"

Again Boyd Connoway took up his burden of testimony. 

"Aye, Miss Jen, there's some that's born to trouble as the sparks flyupward. That's me, Miss Jen. Now there's my brother that's a farmer inCounty Donegal. Niver a market night sober--and _yet_ he's not to sayaltogether content. An' many is the time I say to our Bridget, 'Whatwould you do if I was Brother Jerry of Ballycross, coming home to ye inthe box of the gig, and the reins on the horse's neck?'

"'Ye never _had_ a horse, ' says she, and thinks that an answer! Women'sheads are born void of logic, and what they fill them with--axing yourpardon, Mistress Lyon, ah, if they were all like you--'tis a happierplace this world would be!"

"Finish, and let us get the dishes cleared away!" said my grandmother, who did not stand upon fashions of speech, least of all with BoydConnoway. 

Boyd hastened to obey, ladling everything within reach into his mouth asfast as knife and spoon could follow each other. 

He concluded, crooning over his eternal ditty, by way of thanksgivingafter meat--

 "If I was in bed and fast asleep I wouldn't get up for a score of sheep. "

This distich had the gift of always infuriating Aunt Janet. 

"You may well say so, " she cried, clattering away with an armful ofdishes in a way that was a protest in itself; "considering all you aregood for when you _do_ get up, you might just as well be in bed fastasleep, and----"

"Now there you're wrong, Miss Janet, " said Boyd. "It was only lastSunday that I gave up all my evil courses and became one of IsraelKinmont's folk. My heart is changed, " he added solemnly; "I gave it tothe Lord, and He seen fit to convart me!"

The whole household looked up. Anything bearing on personal religioninstantly touched Scots folk of the humble sort. But Aunt Jen wasobdurate. Long experience had rendered her sceptical with regard to BoydConnoway. 

"We'll soon see if you are converted to the Lord, " she said. "_He_ is ahard worker. There are no idlers on His estates. If it's true, we mayget these pigs covered in to-night yet. "

"Never trouble your head about the pigs, Miss Janet, " said Boyd, "theywill surely sleep safe under a roof this night. Strive to fix your mindon higher things, Miss Jen. There's such a thing as makin' a god of thishere transient evil world, as I said to Bridget when the potatoes wentbad just because I got no time to 'pit' them, having had to play thefiddle at four kirns'[2] in different parishes during potato-liftingweek!"

"Never mind about that, " said my grandfather from his seat in thechimney corner, "tell us about your 'conversion'!"

For the word was then a new one in Galloway, and of no good savoureither among orthodox Cameronians or pillars of the Kirk as by lawestablished. But Israel Kinmont had been a sailor to far ports. In hisyouth he had heard Whitefield preach. He had followed Wesley's folk afaroff. The career of a humble evangelist attracted him, and when in hislatter days he had saved enough to buy the oldest and worst of allluggers that ever sailed the sea, he devoted himself, not to the gainfultraffic of smuggling, but to the unremunerative transport of sea-coaland lime from Cockermouth and Workington to the small ports and inletsof the Galloway coast. 

No excisemen watching on the cliffs gave more than a single glance at"Israel's Tabernacle, " as, without the least irreverence, he had namedhis boat. But, using the same ports as the smugglers, he was oftenbrought into close relations with them. They asked him for informationwhich was freely given, as from one friend to another. They trusted him, for though often interrogated by the supervisor and riding officers, Israel could develop upon occasion an extraordinary deafness, so thatthe questions to which he could give a clear answer were never such asto commit any one. In exchange for this the smugglers would go aboardthe Tabernacle and allow Israel to preach to them. And woe betide theirreverent on these occasions! Black Rob o' Garlies or Roaring Imriefrom Douglas-ha' thought nothing of taking such a one by convenientparts of his clothing and dropping him overboard. 

"Aye, " said Boyd, encouraged by my grandfather's request, "IsraelKinmont has made a new man of many a hardened sinner!"

"I dare you to say so, " cried my grandmother; "only the Lord that is onHigh can do that. "

"But He can make use of instruments, " argued Boyd, who had learned hislesson, "and Israel Kinmont is one of them. He has showed me where toget grace. "

"Maybe, " snapped Jen, that unswerving Calvinist, "seeing is believing. Boyd Connoway _may_ have got grace. I put no limit to the Almighty'spower. But it takes more than grace to convert a man from laziness!"

Boyd lifted his hand with a gesture so dignified that even from thegood-for-nothing it commanded respect. 

"'Tis from the Lord, Miss Jen, and it behoves us poor mortals noways toresist. Israel Kinmont never would smuggle, as ye know, and yet he neverhad any luck till the highest tide of the year brought the 'OldTabernacle' up, with a cargo of sea-coal in her, half-way betweenKillantringan Village and the Nitwood. 

"'She's settling, Israel, ' said his son Jacob, that's counted soft, butcan raise the tune at meeting--none like him for that. 

"'Even so, ' said Israel, 'the will of the Lord be done!'

"'She's settling fast! Both my feet are wet!' said Jacob, holding on toa rope. 

"'Amen!' cried Israel, 'if it only were His will that she should cometen yards higher up, she would be on the very roadside. Then I wouldopen a door into the hold of her after the coal is out, and you and I, Jacob, could rig up seats and windows like a proper Tabernacle--fit forMr. Whitefield himself to preach in! Truly the service of the Lord isjoyful. His law doth rejoice the heart. '

"So said Israel, and, just as I am tellin' you, there came a greatinward swirling of the tide, a very merracle, and lo! the _Tabernacle_was laid down as by compass alongside the Nitwood road, whence she willnever stir till the day of Final Judgment, as the scripture is. AndIsrael, he cuts the door, and Jacob, he gets out the coals and sellsthem to the great folk, and the supervisor, he stands by, watching invain till he was as black as a sweep, for the brandy that was not there. But he petitioned Government that Israel should have a concession ofthat part of the foreshore--being against all smuggling and maybethinking to have him as a sort of spiritual exciseman. 

"Yes, Mr. Lyon, " Boyd went on, gratified by the interest in his tale, "'tis wonderful, when you think on't. Empty from stem to stern she is, with skylights in her deck and windows in her side! Why, there arebenches for the men and a pulpit for Israel. As for Jacob, he hasnothing but his tuning-fork and a seat with the rest. 

"And indeed there's more chance that Israel will put a stop to theFree-trading than all the preventives in the land. He preaches againstit, declaring that it makes the young men fit for nothing else, likeevery other way of making money without working for it. "

"Ah, Israel's right there!" came from my grandfather. 

"But every light has its shadow, and he's made a failure of it with DickWilkes, and may do the like with my wife, Bridget. 

"For Bridget, she will be for ever crying at me these days, 'Here, youTabernacle man, have you split the kindling wood?' Or 'Nopraise-the-Lord for you, lad, till your day's work is done! Go and mendthat spring-cart of the General's that his man has been grumbling aboutfor a month!'

"And sometimes I have to fill my mouth with the hundred and twenty-firstpsalm to keep from answering improper, and after all, Bridget will onlyask if I don't know the tune to that owld penny ballad. 'Tis true enoughabout the tune" (Boyd confessed), "me having no pitch-pipe, but Bridgethas no business to miscall scripture, whether said or sung!

"As to Dick Wilkes, that got his lame leg at the attack on--well, weneed not go opening up old scores, but we all know where--has beenstaying with us, and that maybe made Bridget worse. Aye, that he has. There's no one like Bridget for drawing all the riff-raff of thecountryside about her--I know some will say that comes of marrying me. But 'tis the ould gennleman's own falsehood. You'll always find BoydConnoway in the company of his betters whenever so be he can!

"But Dick Wilkes had our 'ben' room, and there were a little, light, active man that came to see him--not that I know much of him, save fromthe sound of voices and my wife Bridget on the watch to keep me in thekitchen, and all that. 

"But Old Israel would never give up Dick Wilkes. He kept coming andcoming to our house, and what he called 'wrestling for Dick's soul. 'Sometimes he went away pleased, thinking he had gotten the upper hand. Then the little light man would come again, and there was Dick just asbad as ever. 'Backsliding' was what Israel called it, and a good name, Isay, for then the job was all to do over again from the beginning. Butit was the Adversary that carried off Dick Wilkes at the long and last. "

"Ah!" came a subdued groan from all the kitchen. Boyd gloomily noddedhis head. 

"Yes, " he said, "'tis a great and terrible warning to Bridget, and so Itell her. 'Twas the night of the big meeting at the Tabernacle, whenIsrael kept it up for six hours, one lot coming and another going--theIsle o' Man fleet being in--that was the night of all nights in the yearthat Dick Wilkes must choose for to die in. Aught more contrary thanthat man can't be thought of. 

"It happened just so, as I say. About four o'clock we were all of usshut up in the kitchen, and by that we knew (Jerry and I, at least) thatDick Wilkes had company--also that so far as repentance went, oldIsrael's goose was cooked till he had another turn at his man. And thenafter six we heard him shouting that he was going to die--which seemedstrange to us. For we could hear him tearing at his sea-chest andstamping about his room, which is not what is expected of a dying man. 

"But Dick knew better. For when we went down and peeped at the keyhole, he heard us, and called on us all to come our ways in. And--you willnever guess in a thousand years--he had routed a flag out of hissea-chest. The 'Wicked Flag' it was, --the pirates' flag--black, with theDeath's Head and cross-bones done in white upon it, the same that he hadhoisted on seas where no questions were asked, when he commanded theold _Golden Hind_. And wrapping himself in that, he said, 'Tell oldIsrael that I died _so_!' And we, thinking it was, as one might say, braving the Almighty and his poor old servant, kept silence. And then heshouted, 'Promise, ye white-livered rascals, or I've strength to slityour wizzards yet. Tell him I died under the Black!'

"And Bridget, who was feared herself, said, 'Whist, for God's sake, donot bring a curse on the house!'

"And then he just cursed the house from flooring to roof-tree, and sowent to his own place!

"Dead? Well, yes--dead and buried is old Dickie Wilkes. But poor IsraelKinmont is quite brokenhearted. He says that Dick was the first thatever broke away, and that he is not long for this world himself now thathe has lost Dick. It was always cut-and-come-again when you wereconverting Dick. 

"But Israel has an explanation, poor old fellow. 

"'It was not Grace that missed fire, ' he says, 'but me, the unworthymarksman. And for that I shall be smitten like the men who, withunanointed eyes, looked on the ark of God that time it went up thevalley from Ekron to Bethshemish, with the cows looking back and lowingfor their calves all the way. I were always main sorry for them cows!'old Israel says. "

[Footnote 2: Harvest home merrymakings. ]

CHAPTER XL

THE GREAT "TABERNACLE" REVIVAL

Though Boyd Connoway had not said anything directly threatening thehouse of Heathknowes or its inmates, his story of his own "conversion"and the death of Dick Wilkes under the Black Flag somehow made usvaguely uneasy. The door of the house was locked at eight. The gates ofthe yard barricaded as in the old time of the sea raids from the _GoldenHind_. 

So strong was the feeling that Irma would gladly have returned beforeour time to the little White House above the meadow flats, and to theview of the Pentlands turning a solid green butt towards the Archers'Hall of the Guid Toon of Edinburgh. 

But it was not so easy to quit Heathknowes. My grandmother held tightlyto Duncan the Second. I found myself in good case, after the fatigues ofthe town, to carry out some work on my own account. This, of course, forthe sake of my wife's happiness, I would have given up, but after allIrma's plans went to pieces upon the invincible determination of SirLouis to remain. He was now a lad of seventeen, but older looking thanhis age. He had his own room at Heathknowes, his books, his occupations. Indeed we seldom saw him except at meals, and even then often in themiddle of dinner he would rise, bow haughtily to the company, and retirewithout uttering a word. He had learned the lesson from Lalor that plainfarm people were no society for such as he. He went as far as he couldin the way of insolence, making us pay for the refusal of the lawyersto let him go to London with the member for the county. 

I could see the blush rise crimson to Irma's neck and face after such aperformance. But by some mysterious divine law of compensation, nosooner had she Baby in her arms, than she forgot all about the sulkyboy, sitting moping among his books in the wood parlour, looking out onthe red-boled firs of Marnhoul forest. 

Israel Kinmont used to frequent us a good deal about this time. He neverpreached to us, nor indeed would he talk freely of his "experiences"amongst such Calvinists as my grandfather and grandmother. 

"The gold of the kingdom doth not need the refiner's art!" he had saidonce when this remissness was made a reproach to him. Since the loss ofhis boat, the _Tabernacle_, he had bought first one donkey and then twowith his little savings. These he loaded with salt for Cairn Edward andthe farms on the way, and so by a natural transition, took to the tradeof itinerant voyager on land instead of on the sea, bringing back astore of such cloths and spices as were in most request among thegoodwives of the farm-towns. 

He had been so long a sailor man that he could not help it, if a certainflavour of the brine clung to him still. Besides, there were jerseys andgreat sea-boots to be worn out. Neddy and Teddy, his two fine donkeys, were soon fitted with "steering gear, " among the intricacies of whichtheir active heels often got "foul. " They "ran aground" with alarmingfrequency, scraping their pack-saddles against the walls of narrowlanes. Their master knew no peace of mind till, having passed thenarrows, he found on some moor or common "plenty o' sea-room, "notwithstanding the danger that "plenty o' sea-room" might induce thetoo artful Teddy to "turn topsails under, " or in other words indulge ina roll upon the grass. 

Finally, Neddy and Teddy were "brought to anchor" in some friendlystable, in none oftener than in ours of Heathknowes, where cargo wasunloaded and sometimes even the ships themselves "docked" and laid upfor repairs. For this merciful Israel was merciful to his beasts, andoften went into repairing dock for a saddle gall, which another wouldnever have even noticed. 

When the pair were browsing free in the field he would call them "toreceive cargo, " and hoist the Blue Peter by a sounding, "Neddy, ahoy!Ahoy there, Teddy!" And if, as was likely, they only flourished theirheels and refused with scorn to come and be saddled, he uttered hissternest summons, "Ship's company, all hands on deck!" which meant thathis son Jacob--starboard watch, must come and help port watch--Israelhimself, to capture Teddy and Neddy. 

Neddy was generally willing enough, unless when led from the plaincourse of maritime duty by Teddy. On these occasions Israel used toquote from the "articles" relating to the Mutiny Act, and has even beenknown to go so far as threaten Teddy with "a round dozen" at themain-mast as soon as he could lay hands on a "rope's end. "

The which was all the same to Teddy. 

It was beautiful to see the flotilla navigating the level surface ofKillantringan moor--level, that is, by comparison. For first there werethe little waves of the sheep-tracks, then the gentle rollers of themoss-hags, and, last of all, certain black dangerous Maélstroms fromwhich last year's peats had been dug, in which a moment's folly on thepart of Neddy or Teddy might engulf the Armada for ever. 

As they set sail Jacob Kinmont was first and second mate, but inparticular, look-out-man. He went ahead, keeping a wary eye for dangersand obstacles, and on the whole the donkeys followed docilely enough inhis wake. Israel's post as captain was behind at the tiller-ropes, whence he shouted exact instructions with nautical exactitude, such as"A point to the west, Neddy!" Or, pathetically, "DID I saynor'-nor'-east, Teddy, or didn't I?"

This last had a ring of affection in it, for, in spite of his naughtyhabits (or because of them) Teddy was distinctly the favourite. Also hehad a habit of nuzzling his moist nose into the breast of the old man'sreefer coat in search of sweet things, a trick which the more patientand reliable Neddy never acquired. And if Teddy forgot to come inquiringafter the hidden sweets, Israel was quite heart-broken. 

At first the boys from the village would follow and perhaps imitatethese naval manoeuvres--in the hope, never fulfilled, of catching"Ranter Israel" using some nautical language, such as old Pirate Wilkeshad made but too familiar to their ears. But they never caught him, forIsrael's "yea" remained "yea" and his "nay" "nay, " even when navigatingdonkeys over the trackless waste of Killantringan Common. But inrevenge, every now and then, Israel would get hold of a village lad andlead him triumphantly to his meeting, whence he would not come forthtill, as like as not, "he had gotten the blessin'. "

The fathers of Eden Valley held in utter contempt the theology of "OldTabernacle Israel, " but the mothers, seeing a troublesome boy forsakingthe error of his ways and settling down to be the comfort of hisfolk--looked more to results, and thanked God for old Israel and hisTabernacle. After a while the fathers also came to be of his opinion. And on one memorable occasion, the great Doctor Gillespie himself wentin by the door of Israel's tar-smelling Tabernacle, and seated himselfin all the glory of his black coat and ruffled shirt on the back seatamong the riff-raff of the port, just as if he were nobody at all. 

At first Israel did not see him, so quietly had he entered. He went onwith his prayer that "sinners might be turned from their way, and saintsconfirmed in their most holy faith. "

But when he had opened his eyes, and beheld the white head and reverendcountenance of Doctor Gillespie the human soul within him trembled alittle. Nevertheless, commanding himself, he descended the narrow aisletill he came to where the minister was seated. Then with head humblybent and a voice that shook, he begged that "the Doctor might to-dayopen up the Word of Life to them. " Which accordingly, with the simplestdirectness, the Doctor did, using as his pulpit the middle section of alongboat, which had been sawn across and floored for Israel. The Doctortold the story of Peter walking on the waters, and of the hand stretchedout to save. And this the Doctor, as Israel said afterwards, "fastenedinto them with nails. "

"Some of you will believe anything except the Gospel, " was one of these. Yet all he said was the simplest evangel. The Doctor was a Justice ofthe Peace, but this time he spoke of another peace--that of believing. He had an audience of smugglers, but he never mentioned Cæsar. He onlyadvised them to "Render unto God the things that are God's. "

And when he finished, after the last solemn words of exhortation, headded very quietly, "I will again preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ inthe Parish Kirk, next Sabbath at noonday. "

And so when the Sabbath came and in the Tabernacle those of Israel'ssowing and gleaning were gathered together, the old Ranter addressedthem thus: "All hands on deck to worship with the Doctor! He hath kepthis watch with us--let us do the like by him!"

And so the astonishing thing was seen. The great Spence gallery of EdenValley Parish Kirk was filled with such a mixed assembly as had neverbeen seen there before. Smugglers, privateersmen, the sweepings ofports, home and foreign, some who had blood on their hands--though withthe distinction that it had been shed in encounters with excisemen. Butthe blessing had come upon some of them--others a new spirit hadtouched, lighted at the fire of an almost apostolic enthusiasm. 

It was the proudest moment in Israel Kinmont's life when he heard theDoctor, in all the panoply of his gown and bands, hold up his hands andask for a blessing upon "the new shoot of Thy Vine, planted by an agedservant of Thine in this parish. Make it strong for Thyself, that thehills may be covered with the shadow of it, and that, like the goodlycedar, many homeless and wayfaring men under it may rest and findshelter. "

And in the Spence gallery these sea- and wayfaring men nudged eachother, not perhaps finding the meaning so clear as they did at theTabernacle, but convinced, nevertheless, that "He means us--and our oldIsrael!"

And so in faith, if not wholly in understanding, they listened to thesermon in which the Doctor, all unprepared for such an invasion, inculcated with much learning the doctrine of submission to the civilmagistrate with the leading cases of Saint Paul and Saint Augustineillustrated by copious quotations from the original. 

They sat with fixed attention, never flinching even when the Doctor, doing his duty, as he said, both as a magistrate and as a Christian man, gave the Free Traders many a word to make their ears sing. They were inhis place, and every man had the right to speak as he chose in his ownhouse. But when Israel led them back to the old Tabernacle, with itspleasant smell of tar obscuring the more ancient bilge, and had toldthem that they were all "a lot of hell-deserving sinners who, if theymissed eternal damnation, it would be with their rags badly singed, "they sighed a blissful sigh and felt themselves once more at home, sitting under a man who understood them and their needs. 

Nevertheless, when Israel gave out the closing hymn it was one which, ashe explained, "prays for the Church of God visible upon the earth, aswell in the Parish Kirk as in their own little Tabernacle. " "Now then, men, " he concluded, "let us have it with a will. Put all that you havegot between your beards and your shoulder-blades into it. If I see a manhanging in stays, he shall sing it by himself!"

So the Ranters sang till the sound went from the little dissentingBethel on the shore up to the stately Kirk of the parish cinctured withits double acre of ancient grave-stones--

 "I love Thy Kingdom, Lord, The house of Thine abode: The Church our blest Redeemer saved With His own precious blood. 

 For her my tears shall fall, For her my prayers ascend: To her my cares and toils be given Till toils and cares shall end!"

"_And_ three cheers for the Doctor!" shouted swearing Imrie, who hadbeen worked up by the events of the day to such a pitch of excitementthat only the sound of his own thunderous voice had power to calm him. 

And douce Cameronians coming over Eden Valley hill stood still andwondered at the profanation of the holy day, not knowing. Even soberpillars of the Kirk Erastian going homeward smiled and shook their headspityingly. 

"It was doubtless a good thing, " said my father to a fellow elder, acertain McMinn of the Croft, "to see so many of the wild and regardlessat the Kirk, but I'm sore mistaken if there's not some of the old Adamleft in the best of them yet, to judge by the noise they are making downyonder. "

"Except Israel himsel'!" said McMinn of the Croft, "man, dominie, sincehe converted Jock, my ploughman, he hasna been drunk yince, and I gettwice the work oot o' the craitur for the same wage. "

Which, being the proof of the pudding, settled the question. 

CHAPTER XLI

IN THE WOOD PARLOUR

On the 19th of October the sky overhead was clear as sapphire, but allround the circle of the horizon the mists of autumn blurred thelandscape. The hills stood no more in their places. Gone were the Kips, with their waving lines. Of the Cruives, with the heather thick andpurple upon them, not a trace. Gone the graceful swirl of the CooranHill, which curls over like a wave just feathering to break. 

To Irma it had been a heavy and a sorrowful day. She had actually wept, and even gone on her knees to her brother to beg him tell her whatstrange thing had come between them. He would only answer, "You havechosen your path without consulting me. Now I choose mine. "

She charged him with listening to one who had always been an enemy ofall who had been good to him ever since he was a little child--ofsetting himself against those on whose bounty they had lived. 

He replied, "If I have lived on their bounty, they know very well thatthey will not lose by it. "

She mentioned Lalor Maitland's name, and told him the history of theearly attacks on the house of Marnhoul. Louis answered, "He hasexplained all that. It was done to save me from these people who werealready besetting me, in order to rob me. "

When she mentioned all that I had done for him, he put on an air offrigid detachment. 

"You are right, no doubt, to stand up for your husband, " he said; "but, then, I have not the same reasons. I can judge for myself. "

Then she went on to show that there was no motive for the Lyons ofHeathknowes showing them any interested kindness. As for me, she hadonly brought me herself and her love--no money, nor would she ever haveany money--I had married her for herself. 

"So would Lalor Maitland, " he retorted, "and he is a gentleman. "

After this Irma discussed no more. She felt it to be useless. Naturally, also, she was hurt to the heart that Louis, once her own little Louis, should compare her husband to Lalor Maitland. Well, for that I do notblame her. 

All day long Louis stayed in the Wood Parlour with his books. I was busywith an important article on the "Moors in Spain, " suggested by myrecent researches into the history of the irrigation of fields andgardens in the south of Europe. 

Louis came down to dinner at twelve, or a few minutes after. He seemedsomewhat more cheerful than was usual with him, and actually spoke alittle to me, asking me lend him my grandfather's shotgun, to put it inorder for him, and that powder and ball might be placed in his chamber. He had seen game-birds feeding quite close, and thought that by openingthe window he might manage to shoot some of them. 

I did as he asked me before going back to my work. Irma smiled at me, being well pleased. For it seemed to her that Louis's ill-temper waswearing away. Now my grandmother and Aunt Jen were inveteratetea-lovers, which was then not so common a drink in the country as it isnow. Irma sometimes took a cup with them for company, and, because italso refreshed me in my labours, I also joined them. But with me it wasdone chiefly for the sake of the pleasant talk, being mostly mygrandmother's reminiscences, and sometimes for a sight of my mother, whowould run across of a sunny afternoon for a look at baby. 

That day we sat and talked rather longer than usual. A certain strainseemed to have departed from the house. I think all of us believed thatthe humour of Louis, execrable as it had been, was the effect of theinsinuations of a wicked man, and that after a time he would be restoredto us again the simple, pleasant-faced boy he had been in former years. 

He did not come down to tea, but then he seldom did so. Indeed, none ofthe men-folk except myself had taken to the habit, and I (as I say)chiefly for the sake of the talk, which sharpened my wits and refreshedmy working vocabulary. But as I passed back to my writing-den I couldhear my brother-in-law moving restlessly about his room, and talking tohimself, which was a recently-acquired habit of his. However, I tookthis as a good sign. Anything in the way of occupation was better thanhis former chill indifference to all that went forward aboutHeathknowes. 

It was, as it chanced, a busy day at the pirn-mill. The labours of thefarm being fairly over for the year, the mill had been shut down forhasty repairs, which Alec McQuhirr had come down from Ironmacannie tosuperintend. He was, so they said, the best mill-wright in thehalf-dozen counties of the south and west. He had, however, the onefault common to all his tribe, that of dilatoriness. So my grandfather, who had his "pirn" contracts to be shipped for England on certain days, used to call his sons about him, and devote himself and all of them tothe service of repairing. Boyd Connoway, also, usually gave us thebenefit of his universal genius for advice, and, when he chose, forhandiness also. 

After tea some provisions had been carried to the mill by my mother onher way home. "One of the boys"--meaning my uncles--was to bring backthe basket. 

That night, also, supper was somewhat later than usual. Up in the millmen were still crawling about along the machinery with carefullyprotected lanterns. Buckets of water stood handy. For a pirn-mill is noplace in which to play with fire. The sound of male voices and the thudof wooden mallets did not cease till long after dark. Supper was, therefore, later than usual, and the moon had risen before the sound oftheir footsteps was heard coming down among the tree-roots in theclearing which they themselves had made. The kitchen, which was also theliving-room of Heathknowes, glowed bright, and the supper-table wasa-laying. Aunt Jen bustled about. I had laid aside my writing, satisfiedwith a goodly tale of sheets to my credit. My grandmother was in themilk-house, but every now and then made darts out to the fire on whichthe precious "het supper" was cooking--roast fowl, bacon, andpotatoes--traditional on occasions when the men had been "working lateat the mill and had brought home company. "

It was a bright and cheerful sight. The high dresser, the kitchen prideof Galloway, was in a state of absolute perfection. Aunt Jen despisedmen, but she had a way of reproving their congenital untidiness by theshine of her plates and the mirror-like polish of her candlesticks. Shehad spent a couple of hours over the dresser that afternoon, answeringall the taunts of her mother as to her occupation, "It's true, mither, _they_ will never ken the difference; but, then, I will!"

"Go up, Irma, and tell your brother that we are waiting, " said mygrandmother. But as Irma was busy with Duncan the Second, I offeredmyself instead. I remember still the long corridor, and I wondered atthe moment why no ray of light penetrated through the keyhole of SirLouis's door. He must be sitting in the dark, and I smiled to myself asI thought how I had been wasting a couple of my grandmother's bestcandles for an hour. The explanation was that Louis, in fear of beingspied upon, had carefully plugged up the keyhole and every crack of thedoor. But this I only knew later. 

I stood a moment in the passage, keeping very still. I could hear hisvoice. He seemed in some way indignant. But the sound was dulled by thethickness of the walls and the care with which the chinks of the doorhad been "made up. " Then I also heard--what sent the blood chill to myheart--another voice, shorter, harsher, older. For a moment I was struckdumb, and then--I laughed at myself. Of course the lad was simplystage-struck. For some time he had been reading and declaiming Hamlet, Julius Cæsar, and anything he could lay his hands upon, as well asscraps of the Greek tragedies he had learnt at school. 

But as I leaned nearer, there pierced sharp as a pang to my heart thecertainty that the other voice which I heard was not that of any of thecharacters of _Julius Cæsar_. A trembling horror of what I had once seenin that very room, and a memory of the great hearty Richard Pooleentering there in all his amplitude of vivid life, quickly arrested me. 

I rapped and called vehemently, trying the latch and feeling that thedoor resisted. I could hear a trampling beneath me. Men were on the wayto my assistance. At the door I sprang. The bolts were as old as thedoor, and the nails of the lintel fastening only knocked in after itsformer rough handling. 

I got one waft of light as the door opened, half from the candle on thetable, half from the moonlight falling dim without. I saw something thatcrouched--manlike indeed, but with bearded face and head held betweenits shoulders--leap from the window into the darkness. I did not seeLouis clearly. His head was lying on the table, and immediately all thecircumstances of the former drama came back to me. But this time Iwasted no time. Something glittered on the table, hilt towards me--knifeor sword, I hardly knew which. I only knew that with it in my hand I wasarmed. I sprang through the window and gave chase. 

Then very loud in my ears I heard the crack of a pistol, but felt nowound. I now think it had not even been fired at me. I pursued with theenergy of a young stag. My mornings on the hills with Eben looking forthe sheep now stood me in good stead--that is, good or bad according asto whether the man in front of me had another loaded pistol ready ornot. 

Behind me, but alas, too far to be any help, I could hear the shoutingof men. Heathknowes was alarmed. Then came the pounding of feet, but Iknew that none of them could run with me, while the thing or man infront proved fresher, and, as I feared at first, fleeter. 

But, after all, I was young, and though I panted, and had a burning painin my side, I held to it till I began to get my second wind. Then I madesure that, barring accidents, I could run him down. What should happenthen I did not know. I had a vision, only for a moment but yet veryclear and distinct, of Irma in the black gown of a young widow. Buteven this did not make me slacken in my stride. 

Somehow the shine of the steel in my hand gave me courage, as also thecrying of the men behind, albeit they did not seem to gain but rather tolose ground. Thirty yards ahead I could see my man running, his headvery low, his arms close to his sides, a slender figure with a certainlook of deformity. A long beard of some indeterminate colour like haywas blown back over one shoulder. Ever and anon he glanced round as heran to measure my progress. 

Suddenly the root of a tree tripped him and he went headlong. But he wasagile too, for before I could be upon him, he was up again, and withsomething that shone like a long thin dagger in his hand, he threwhimself upon me as if to take me by surprise. Now, it is very difficultwhen running hard to put oneself at once into a proper position ofdefence. And so, as it happened, I was nearly done. But I had beencarrying the sword in my hand almost at arm's length. I was conscious ofno shock. Only all suddenly my assailant doubled and lay writhing, hisdagger still shining in his hand. 

I stopped and kept wide circling about him, fearing a trick. The moonwas shining full on the open clearing of the glade where he had fallen. It was the little lawyer--he who had called himself Wringham PollixfenPoole. Yet somehow he was different. His beard had grown to be of acurious foreign fashion and colour--but that perhaps might be the effectof the moonlight. 

He never took his eyes off the shining steel in my hand. 

"It is poisoned, " he groaned, his hand clapped to his breast, "I am adead man--poisoned, poisoned!"

And looking more carefully at what I had simply snatched in haste, Isaw that I had in my hand the golden-hilted sword of honour which LalorMaitland had given to the boy Louis to seal their friendship. 

But immediately a greater wonder oppressed me, and rendered speechlessthose who now came panting up--my uncles and Boyd Connoway. Thehay-coloured beard and disguises came away, snatched off in the man'sdeath-agony. The shiny brown coat opened to show a spotless ruffledshirt beneath. The wounded man never ceased to exclaim, "It is poisoned!It is poisoned! I am a dead man!" The wig fell off, and as life gaveplace to the stillness of death, out of the lined and twisted lineamentsof the half-deformed lawyer Poole emerged the pale, calm, clear-cutfeatures of Lalor Maitland. 

CHAPTER XLII

THE PLACE OF DREAMS

The key of the mystery was brought us by one who seemed the mostunlikely person in the world, Boyd Connoway. 

"And her to come of decent folk down there by Killibegs, " he exclaimedin opening the matter; "no rapparees out of Connemara--but O'Neil'sblood to a man, both Bridget and all her kindred before her!"

"What's the matter now?" said the Fiscal, who with much secretsatisfaction had come to have that made plain which had troubled him sosorely before. So Boyd and Jerry brought Bridget Connoway in to theouthouse where the dead man lay. 

"Tis all my fault--my fault, " wailed Bridget, "yet 'twas because himthat's me husband gave me no help with the arning of money to bring upthe childer. So I was tempted and took in this man after the BlackSmugglers had tried to burn the great house of Marnhoul. 

"Well might I think so, indeed, your honours. For wounded the man wasright sore, and I nursed him for the sake of the goold he gave me. Lashin's of goold, and the like had never been seen in our house sincebefore Boyd Connoway there, that now has the face to call himself aconvarted man, was the head of it. "

"What did this man call himself?" the Fiscal demanded. 

"Sure, he called himself Wringham Pollixfen Poole, my lord, and it wasnot for me to be disbelievin' him. "

"And after, when he was under strong suspicion of having wilfully madeaway with Mr. Richard Poole of Dumfries, why did you say nothing?"

"Now, your honour, " exclaimed Bridget, holding up her hands, "wad I betelling aught like that to bring worse and worse on the head of any manin trouble? If it had been yourself, now, how wad you have liked that, your honour?"

"Leave me alone, Bridget. Answer what you are asked, " said the Fiscal;"when did you find out that this man was not what he pretended to be?"

"Is it the name he gave you mean, sorr?" said Bridget. 

"Yes, " said the Fiscal, watching her. 

"Faith, then, just when he towld it me!" was the unexpected answer. Andthen, moving a little nearer, she added confidentially in the Fiscal'sear, "Would you have believed yourself, my lord, that a Black Smuggler, newly off the _Golden Hind_, and a shipmate of old Dick Wilkes, thatdied under the Wicked Flag, would be likely to give his true name andaddress?"

"Then, by your story, you never knew that the deceased was in truth Mr. Lalor Maitland, a member of his Majesty's present loyal parliament?"

"Faith, as to that, no, " said Bridget, "and it's the saints' own pity, for if I had known that in time--it's independent I would have been. Nomore wash-tubs for Bridget Connoway!"

"For shame on you, Bridget, you that are an O'Neil, and the wife of aConnoway!" cried Boyd indignantly. 

"And the less you say of that, the better will the butter lie on yourbread!" said Bridget, advancing a step towards him threateningly. "Yourlordship, hearken to me--not an honest day's work has that man donefrom January to December--nay, nor dishonest either, for the matter o'that! 'Tis ashamed of himself he ought to be. "

"Well, " said the Fiscal, "it is a very good thing for you, Mrs. Connoway, that young Sir Louis is likely to recover after the knock onthe head he got from your friend. But the wonder to me is that you didnot speak more plainly when there was a former fatal assault in the sameplace. "

"Now, I put it to ye, sorr, what was a poor woman like me to know aboutthe affairs of the great, my lord?" said Bridget. "Now, in my country, two gentlemen sit late at the wine, and maybe there's a littledifference of opinion, the cartes, or politics, or a lady--or maybe justa differ for the sake of a differ. And wan gives t'other a skelp on theside of the head, and if the man's skull's sound, where's the harm? 'Tisdone every day in Donegal and nobody a bit the worse! For it's O'Neil'scountry, my lord, and the skulls there are made thicker on purpose--suchbeing the intintion of a merciful providence that created nothing invain. "

"And can you give us no light on why Mr. Lalor Maitland wished harm toMr. Richard Poole?"

Bridget shook her head slowly. 

"Doubtless, " she said, "'twas something about property and a lass. Forif money's the root of all evil, as the Book says, sure andt'other--(that's the woman) is the trunk and branches, the flowers, andthe fruit!"

The mystery of the death of Mr. Richard Poole was never wholly clearedup. If anything was found among the private correspondence of the latemember of the firm of Smart, Poole and Smart, certainly the firm did notallow it to transpire. It is practically certain that Bridget told allshe knew. But, poring over the mystery afterwards, and putting allthings carefully together, I became convinced that, under the name ofWringham Pollixfen Poole, Mr. Richard had mixed himself up in somehighly treasonable business, which put his life within the power of theinformer and traitor Lalor. 

Consequently when the latter, an expert in disguises, found it necessaryto take refuge with Bridget Connoway after the failure of the attack onMarnhoul, he could not have chosen a safer name or disguise. 

Mr. Richard, he knew, could not betray him. If any trouble befell hewould come at once and see him. So, in fact, when Richard Poole arrived, he demanded that, by the influence of his firm, the children should beat once returned to his tutelage. That Lalor dreamed of marrying Irma isevident, and what he meant to do with little Louis is equally clear--forhis death would leave him heir to the properties. 

But Richard proved unexpectedly stubborn. He refused flatly to haveanything to do with Lalor's schemes--whereupon the wild beast in the manbroke loose. He struck and escaped. But it was a sudden fit of anger, probably repented of as soon as done, because it rendered unsafe auseful disguise. 

In the case of Sir Louis the plot was deeper laid. From the boy'sborrowing of the gun, I believe that Louis had made up his mind toescape with his so-called uncle. But some condition or chance word ofLalor's had caused a shadow of suspicion to arise in Louis's mind. Hehad drawn back at the last moment. Whereupon, exasperated by failure, and possibly shaken by hearing me thundering at the door, Lalor hadsmitten, just as he had done in the case of Mr. Richard. Happily, however, with less result. The necessary weapon was not to his hand. The poisoned sword, with which he no doubt expected the boy to play tillhe pricked himself, was lying with the handle turned away from him. 

At any rate he missed his stroke. But it was only by a hair's breadth, and had it not been for his own sword and my fleetness of foot, thefalse Wringham Pollixfen might for the second time have vanished ascompletely as before, while if Louis had died, no one would havesuspected as his murderer a man so important as his Excellency LalorMaitland, Member of Parliament for the county, and presently carryingout the commission of the lieges within the precincts of the city ofWestminster. 

As to Sir Louis, it was many months before we could obtain any accountof his experiences from him, and even then he shrank from all referenceto that night in the Wood Parlour. Indeed, he grew up to be a silent, rather moody young man, and as soon as he could obtain permission fromthe lawyers he went abroad, where at the University of Heidelberg hesettled himself with his books and fencing foils. All this happened tenyears ago, yet he manifested not the least desire to come home. Hisaffairs are safe in the hands of the Dumfries lawyers, while mygrandfather, not to all appearance aged by a day, cares on the spot forhis more immediate concerns. Sir Louis has, however, made Duncan theSecond laird of the farm and lands of Heathknowes, on the condition thatduring the tenancy of my grandfather and grandmother they are to sitrent free. Irma and I are still in the house above the meadows, andDuncan has just begun to attend Dr. Carson at the High School. We havebeen able to buy the Little White House, and have made manyimprovements, including a couple of servants' bedrooms. But we werejust as happy when I rose to make the fire in the morning, and Mrs. Pathrick came over early on washing days to "get them clothes out on theline at a respectable hour!"

My father still teaches his Ovid, and looks to Freddy Esquillant tosucceed him. He is now first assistant and has taken a house for AgnesAnne. In a year or two they expect to begin thinking about gettingmarried. But really there is no hurry. They have only been engagedtwelve years, and an immediate purpose of marriage would be consideredquite indecent haste in Eden Valley. And Aunt Jen ... Is still Aunt Jen. No man, she says, has ever proved himself worthy of her, but I myselfthink that, if there is no infringement of the table of consanguinity onthe first page of the Bible after "James, by the Grace of God, King ofGreat Britain, France, and Ireland, " she has an eye on Duncan theSecond, when he shall shed the trappings of the school-boy and enduehimself with the virility of knee-breeches, cocked hat, and a coat withadult tails. 

At least she certainly shows more partiality to him than to any one, andwonders incessantly how he managed to pick up so unworthy andharum-scarum a father. 

For the rest, Heathknowes stands where it did, excepting always the WoodParlour, which _my_ grandfather had pulled down. And where it stood thefull-rounded corn-stacks almost lean against the blind wall, so that themaids will not pass that way unattended--for fear of Wringham Pollixfen, or poor hot-blooded, turbulent Richard, his victim, or perhaps moreexactly the victim of his own unstable will. 

And as for Irma, years have not aged her. She has the invincible gift ofyouth, of lightsome, winsome, buoyant youth. She still has that way ofpoising herself for flight, like a tit on a thistle, or a plume ofdandelion-down, ready to break off and float away on any wind, which Itell her is not respectable in a married woman of her age and standing. But my Lord Advocate does not agree with me. He rests from hislabours--not in the grave, thank goodness, but in his house on thebright slopes of Corstorphine. 

Also the Dean sings an "Amen" to his praises of Irma, but neither of theKirkpatricks has ever deigned to cross our doorstep. 

"They were glad to be rid of you!" I tell Irma. 

"Dear place!" she answers. And she does not mean either the house atSciennes or the Kirkpatrick mansion near the Water of Leith. She isthinking of that once open space by the Greyfriars where, to theaccompaniment of keen chisel-stroke and dull mallet-thud, once on a dayshe came to me, more dream-like than my dream, and said, "I have foundit, the Little White House!"

THE END

Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London and Bungay. 

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Transcriber's note: block relocated from front matter:

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

ROSE OF THE WILDERNESS 6/-PRINCESS PENNILESS 6/-DEEP MOAT GRANGE 6d. THE CHERRY RIBBAND net 1/-LAD'S LOVE 6d. 

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