The Lindsays : a romance of Scottish life

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THE LINDSAYS.

NEW NOVELS AT EVERY LIBRARY.

KING OR KNAVE ? By R. E. Francillon. 3 vols.
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LONDON : CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY.

THE LIN DSAYS

A ^Romance of Scottish pft

BY

JOHN K. LEYS

IN THREE VOLUMES
VOL. I.

HLotttfou
CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY

[The right of translation is reserved]

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CONTENTS OF VOL. I.

I. THE FIRST LETTER
II. THE SECOND LETTER
III. THE THIRD LETTER
IV. THE FOURTH LETTER

V. THE SHIP SETS SAIL
VI. A NEW EXPERIENCE
VII. A SUNDAY IN GLASGOW -
VIII. THE ROARING GAME
IX. THE END OF THE SESSION
X. ARROCHAR -
XI. A RIVAL -
XII. 'YOU MUST GIVE ME AN answer'

PAGE

1

15

37
57
80
106
12(3
140
173
193
215
23-2

THE LI N D SAYS.

PROLOGUE.— FOUR LETTERS.
CHAPTEE I.

THE FIRST LETTER.

Hubert Blake to Sophy Meredith.

The Castle Farm, Muirburn,
Kyleshire, KB., Sept. 12, 187-

My dear Sophy,

I only arrived here last night, so you
see I am losing no time in redeeming my
promise. I can hardly tell you what I think
of my new cousins ; they are not to be known
in a day, I can see that much. As for the
country and its inhabitants generally — well,
they are as different from an English county and

vol. i. 1

2 THE LINDSA VS.

English country-folks as if they were in different
continents, and that is all I can say at present.
I left the railway at a tiny station called
Kilmartin, and found ' the coach ' waiting in
the station yard. It was not a coach, but a
queer dumpy omnibus, about two-thirds of
the size of a London 'bus, with three big, raw-
boned horses harnessed to it. I was lucky
enough to get a seat in front beside the driver.
It was just a little before sunset ; and I wish
I could put before you in words the freshness
of the scene. We were ascending a rising
ground in a very leisurely fashion. On either
side of the road was a steep bank thickly
clothed with crowsfoot and wild thyme.
Above us on either side stretched a belt of
Scotch firs. The sunset rays shone red on
the trunks of the pines, and here and there
one could catch through them a sight of the
ruddy west, showing like a great painted
window in a cathedral. The air was soft, and
laden with the sweet smell of the firs, and yet
t was cool and exhilarating.

THE FIRST LETTER. 3

As soon as we got to the top of the ridge
we began to rattle down the other side at a
great rate. It was really very pleasant, and
thinking to conciliate the weather-beaten
coachman at my side, I confided to him my
opinion that of all species of travelling coach-
ing was the most delightful.

' Specially on a winter's nicht, wi' yer feet
twa lumps o' ice, an' a wee burn o' snaw-watter
runnin' doon the nape o' yer neck !' responded
the Scotch Jehu.

I laughed, and glanced at the man sitting
on my right, a big, brown-faced, gray-haired
farmer, in a suit of heavy tweeds, who sat
leaning his two hands on the top of an enor-
mous stick. He was smiling grimly to him-
self, as if he enjoyed the stranger being set
down.

1 Fine country,' I remarked, by way of con-
ciliating him.

1 Ay,' said he, with a glance at the horizon
out of the sides of his eyes, but without moving
a muscle of his face.

1—2

4 THE LINDSA VS.

1 And a very fine evening,' I persisted.

1 Ay — micht be waur.'

Upon this I gave it up, lighted a cigar, and
set myself to study the landscape. We had
got to a considerable elevation above the sea-
level ; and in spite of the glorious evening
and the autumn colours just beginning to
appear in the hedges, the country had a
dreary look. Imagine one great stretch of
pasture barely reclaimed from moorland, with
the heather and stony ground cropping up
every here and there, divided into fields, not
by generous spreading hedgerows, but by low
walls of blue stone, built without mortar. The
only wood to be seen was narrow belts of firs,
planted here and there behind a farmhouse, or
between two fields, and somehow their long-
bare stems and heavy mournful foliage did
not add to the brightness of the scene, though
they gave it a character of its own. But the
country is not all moor and pasture. It is
broken every now and then by long, deep,
winding ravines, clothed with the larch and

THE FIRST LETTER. 5

the mountain ash, each one the home of a
bright brawling stream.

We had travelled for half an hour in
silence, when the farmer suddenly spoke.

' Ye'll be frae the sooth, I'm thinkinV

He was not looking at me, but contem-
plating the road in front of us from under a
pair of the bushiest eyebrows I ever saw.
For a moment I thought of repaying his bad
manners by giving him no answer, but think-
ing better of it I said ' Ay,' after the manner
of the country.

' Ye'll no hae mony beasts like they in
England, I fancy,' said he.

We were passing some Ayrshire cows at
the time, small, but splendid animals of their
kind ; and I soothed the old man's feelings by
admitting the fact.

' Are ye traivellin faur V he asked.

' Not much farther, I believe.'

' Ye're no an agent, are ye V

' No,' I answered.

1 Nor a factor V

6 THE LINDSA YS.

'No.'

(He was evidently puzzled to make out what
an Englishman was about in his country, and
I determined not to gratify his curiosity.)

' Ye'll maybe be the doctor V

'No.1

' Sharely ye're no the new minister V he
exclaimed with an expression of unfeigned
alarm.

I calmed his fears, and again we proceeded
on our way in silence.

When we had gone perhaps some seven or
eight miles from the railway station, I noticed
a stout dog-cart standing at the corner of a by-
road, under a tall, straggling thorn hedge.
The youth who was seated in it made a sign
to the coachman to stop, and I was made
aware that the dog-cart had been sent for me.
I got down, and as I bade good- night to the
cross-questioning farmer, I observed a grim
smile of triumph on his firmly compressed lips.
He evidently knew the dog- cart, and would
now be able to trace the mysterious stranger.

THE FIRST LETTER. 7

I and my portmanteau were finally left on
the side of the road, and the young man in
the dog-cart civilly turned the vehicle round
(with some difficulty on account of the narrow
road), and drew up beside me, to save my
carrying my luggage a dozen yards. At first
I was a little uncertain whether I had one of
my third (or fourth, which is it ?) cousins
before me, or simply a young man from Mr.
Lindsay's farm. He was dressed in very
coarse tweeds, and his hands were rough, and
spoke of manual labour, and he breathed the
incense of the farm -yard ; but I thought his
finely-cut features and sensitive lips bespoke
him to be of gentle blood, and, luckily, I
made a hit in the right direction.

1 You are one of Mr. Lindsay's sons, I thick
— that is to say, one of my cousins,' I said, as
I shook hands with him.

The youth's face lighted up with a blush
and a pleasant smile as he answered that he
was, and held open the apron of the dog-cart
for me to get in. In another moment we

8 THE LINDSA YS.

were off, the sturdy old mare between the
shafts carrying us along at a very fair pace.

There are some people, Sophy, who wear
their characters written on their faces, and
Alec Lindsay is one of them. I could see,
even as we drove together along that solitary
lane in the autumn twilight, that his was a
frank, ingenuous nature, shy, sensitive, and
reserved. I mean that his shyness made him
reserved, but his thoughts and feelings showed
themselves in his face without his knowing it,
so little idea had he of purposely concealing
himself. Such a face is always interesting ;
and besides, there was an under- expression of
dissatisfaction, of unrest, I hardly know what
to call it, in his eyes, which was scarcely
natural in so young a lad. He could not
be more than eighteen or nineteen.

After half an hour's drive we approached
the little town, or village — it is rather too
large for a village, and much too small to be
called a town — of Muirburn. It consists of
one long double row of two-storied houses

THE FIRST LETTER. 9

built of stone and whitewashed, with one or
two short cross streets at intervals. The
houses had not a scrap of garden in front
of them, nothing but a broad footpath, the
playground of troops of children. The lower
part of these dwellings had a bare, deserted
appearance, but I found that they were used
in almost every case as workrooms, being
fitted up with looms. In one or two of the
windows a light twinkled, and we could hear
the noise of the shuttle as we passed.

In the middle of the village stood a large
square building, whitewashed all over, and
provided with two rows of small square
windows, placed at regular intervals, one
above and one below.

' What is that building V I asked.

4 The Free Church,' answered my companion,
with a touch of pride.

A church ! Why, it was hardly fit to be
a school-house. A mean iron railing, which
had been painted at some remote epoch, alone
protected it from the street. It was the very

io THE LIMDSA YS.

embodiment of ugliness ; its sole ornament
being a stove-pipe which protruded from one
corner of the roof. Never, in all my life,
whether among Hindoos, Mahometans, or
Irish peasants, had I seen so supremely ugly
an edifice dedicated to the service of the
Almighty.

1 That's the United Presbyterian one,' said
Alec, pointing with his whip to a building
on the other side of the street, similar to
the one we had just passed, but of less
hideous aspect. It was smaller, and it could
boast a front of hewn stone, and neat latticed
windows, while a narrow belt of greensward
fenced it off' from the road.

Just then we passed a knot of men, perhaps
ten or a dozen, standing at the corner of one
of the side streets. All had their hands in
their pockets, all were in their shirt-sleeves,
and all wore long white aprons. They were
doing nothing whatever — not talking, nor
laughing, nor quarrelling, but simply looking
down the street. At present our humble

THE FIRST LETTER. 1 1

equipage was evidently an object of supreme
interest to them.

1 What are these men doing there V I asked.

'They're weavers,' answered Alec, as if the
fact contained a reason in itself for their
conduct. ' They always stand there when
they are not working, in all weathers, wet
and dry ; it's their chief diversion.'

' Diversion !' I repeated ; but at that moment
the sweet tinkle of a church-bell fell upon
my ears. I almost expected to see the people
cross themselves, it sounded so much like the
Angelus. It is the custom, I find, to ring
the bell of the parish church at six in the
morning and eight in the evening, though
there is no service, and no apparent need
for the ceremony. I wonder if it can be
really a survival of the Vesper-bell ?

The bell was still ringing as we passed the
church that possessed it. This was 'the
Established Church,' my companion informed
me — a building larger than either of its
competitors, and boasting a belfry.

12 THE LINDSAYS.

' What does a small town like this want
with so many chapels ?' I asked my cousin.

I could see that I had displeased him,
whether by speaking of Muirburn as a small
town, or by inadvertently calling the 'churches'
chapels, I was not sure. As he hesitated for
an answer I hastened to add :

' You are all of the same religion — sub-
stantially, I mean V

'Well, yes.'

' Then why don't you club together and
have one handsome place of worship instead
of three very — well, plain buildings V

' What V exclaimed Alec, and then he
burst into a roar of laughter. ' That's a
good joke,' said he, as if I had said some-
thing superlatively witty ; ' but I say,' he
continued, with a serious look in his bonny
blue eyes, ' you'd better not say anything of
that kind to my father.'

' Why not V I asked, but Alec did not
answer me.

His attention was attracted by a child

THE FIRST LETTER. 13

which was playing in the road, right in
front of us. He called out, but the little
one did not seem to hear him, and he
slackened the mare's pace almost to a walk.
We were just approaching the last of the
side streets, and at that moment a gig, drawn
by a powerful bay horse, appeared coming
rapidly round the corner. It was evident
that there must be a collision, though, owing
to Alec's having slackened his pace so much,
it could not be a serious one.

But the child % Before I could cry out,
before I could think, Alec was out of the trap
and snatching the little boy from under the
horse's very nose. I never saw a narrower
escape ; how he was not struck down himself,
I cannot imagine.

The next moment the gig, which had brushed
against our vehicle without doing it much
damage, had disappeared down the road ; and
a woman, clad in a short linsey petticoat and a
wide sleeveless bodice of printed cotton, had
rushed out of the opposite house and was

14 THE L1NDSA VS.

roundly abusing Alec for having nearly killed
her child. Without paying much attention to
her, Alec walked round to the other side of the
dog-cart to see what damage had been done,
and muttering to himself, ' I'm thankful it's no
worse,' he climbed back into his place, and we
resumed our journey, while the young Cale-
donian was acknowledging sundry tender
marks of his mother's affection with screams
like those of a locomotive.

Another half-hour's drive brought us to a
five-barred gate which admitted us to a narrow
and particularly rough lane. We jolted on for
a few minutes, and then the loud barking of
several dogs announced that we had arrived at
the farm. But I must keep my description of
its inhabitants for my next epistle. I am too
sleepy to write more. Good-night.

Your affectionate cousin,

Hubert Blake.

CHAPTER II.

THE SECOND LETTER.

Hubert Blake to Sophy Meredith.

The Castle Farm, Muirburn, N.B.
September 15.

Dear Sophy,

I think I shall like this place, and shall
probably stay till the beginning of winter. I
have begun a large picture of a really beautiful
spot which I found close by two days ago, and
I should like to see my painting well on to
completion before I return, lest I should be
tempted to leave it unfinished, like so many
others, when I get back to town.

I had a very hospitable welcome from Mr.
Lindsay on the night I arrived. He met me
at the door — a tall, broad-shouldered, upright
man, perhaps sixty years of age, with the

1 6 THE LINDSA VS.

regular Scotch type of features, large nose, and
high cheek-bones. I could see, even at first,
that he is the sort of man it would not be
pleasant to quarrel with.

He led me into a wide passage, and thence
into a large low-roofed kitchen with a stone
floor. Here there were seated two or three
men and as many women, whom I took to be
farm-servants. There was no light in the place,
except that which came from a bit of ' cannel '
coal, stuck in the peat fire. The women were
knitting ; the men were doing nothing. No
one took the trouble of rising as we passed,
except one of the young men who went to look
after the mare.

After crossing the kitchen we passed through
a narrow passage, and entered a pleasant and
good -sized room in which a large coal fire and
a moderator lamp were burning.

Did you ever see a perfectly beautiful woman,
Sophy ? I doubt it. I never did till I saw
Margaret Lindsay. I was so astonished to see
a lady at the Castle Farm that I positively

THE SECOND LETTER. 17

stared at the girl for a moment, but she came
forward and shook hands with the utmost self-
possession.

* I'm afraid you have had a cold drive, Mr.
Blake,' she said ; and though she spoke in a
very decidedly Scotch accent, the words did
not sound so harshly from her lips as they had
done when spoken by her father. For the
first time I thought that the Doric might have
an agreeable sound.

I will try to tell you what Margaret is like.
She must be nearly twenty years of age, for she
is evidently older than her brother, but her
complexion is that of a girl of sixteen, by far
the finest and softest I ever saw. She is tall,
but not too tall for elegance. Her eyes are
brown, like her father's, and her hair is a dark
chestnut. Her features are simply perfect —
low forehead, beautifully moulded eyebrows,
short upper lip — you can imagine the rest.
You will say that my description would fit a
marble bust nearly as well as a girl of nineteen,
and your criticism would be just. Margaret's

vol. 1. 2

1 8 THE LINDSA YS.

face is rather wanting in expression. It is calm,
reserved, not to say hard. But her deliberate
almost proud manner suits her admirably.

I can see you smiling to yourself, and saying
that you understand now my anxiety to get
my picture finished before I leave the farm.
All I can say is, you never were more mistaken
in your life. I am not falling in love with this
newly-discovered beauty, and I certainly don't
intend to do anything so foolish. But I could
look at her face by the hour together. I
wonder whether there are any capabilities of
passion under the cold exterior.

I took an opportunity when Alec was out of
the room to narrate our little adventure by the
way. and just as I finished my recital the hero
of the story came in.

1 So you managed to get run into on the
way home, Alec,' said his father, with a look
of displeasure. ' I should think you might
have learned to drive by this time.'

The lad's face flushed, but he made no
answer.

THE SECOND LETTER. 19

1 Is the mare hurt V asked the old man.

'No, she wasn't touched,' answered his son.
1 One of the wheels will want a new spoke ;
that's all.'

' And is that nothing, sir V

' No one could possibly have avoided the
collision, such as it was,' said I ; l and I've
seldom seen a pluckier thing than Alec did.'

The old man looked at me, and immediately
changed the subject.

When tea (a remarkably substantial meal,
by the way) was over, the farm -servants and
the old woman who acts as housemaid were
called into the large parlour in which we were
sitting for prayers, or, as they call it here,
' worship.' I can't say I was edified, Sophy.
I dare say I am not a particularly good judge
of these matters, but really there seemed to
me a very slight infusion of worship about
the ceremony. First of all Bibles were handed
round, and Mr. Lindsay proceeded to read
a few lines from a metrical version of the
Psalms, beginning in the middle of a Psalm

2—2

20 THE LINDSA VS.

for the excellent reason that they had left off
at that point on the preceding evening. Then
they began to sing the same verses to a strange,
pathetic melody. Margaret led the tune, and
it was a pleasure to listen to her sweet un-
affected notes, but the rough grumble of the
old men and Betty's discordant squeak pro-
duced a really ridiculous effect. Then a
chapter was read from the Bible, and then we
rose up, turned round, and knelt down. Mr.
Lindsay began an extempore prayer, which
was partly an exposition of the chapter we had
just heard read, and partly an address to the
Almighty, which I won't shock you by de-
scribing. At the end of the prayer were
some practical petitions, amongst them one on
behalf of 'the stranger within our gates,' by
which phrase your humble servant was indi-
cated. The instant the word ' Amen ' escaped
from the lips of my host, there was a sudden
shuffling of feet, and the little congregation
had risen to their feet and were in full retreat
before I had realized that the service was at

THE SECOND LETTER. 21

an end. I fully expected that this conduct
would have called down a reproof from Mr.
Lindsay, but it seemed to be accepted on all
hands as the ordinary custom. Half an hour
afterwards I was in bed, and sound asleep.

I awoke next morning to a glorious day.
The harvest is late in these parts, you know,
and the ' happy autumn fields/ some half cut,
some filled with ' stooks ' of corn, were stretch-
ing before my window down to a hollow,
which I judged to be the bed of a river.

After breakfast I had an interview with my
host, and managed to get my future arrange-
ments put upon a proper footing. Of course
I could not stay here for an indefinite time at
Mr. Lindsay's expense ; and though at first he
scouted the proposal, I got him to consent
that I should set up an establishment of my
own in two half- empty rooms — the house is
twice as large as the family requires — and be
practically independent. I could see that the
old man had a struggle between his pride and
his love of hospitality on the one hand, and

22 THE LINDSA YS.

the prospect of letting part of his house to
a good tenant on the other ; but I smoothed
matters a little by asking to be allowed to
remain as his guest until Monday. Poor man,
I am sorry for him. He used to be a well-to-
do if not a wealthy ' laird,' and owned not
only the Castle Farm, but one or two others.
Now, in consequence of his having become
surety for a friend who left him to pay the
piper, and as a result of several bad seasons,
he has been forced to sell one farm and
mortgage the others so heavily that he is
practically worse off than if he were a tenant
of the mortgagees. This ' come down ' in the
world has soured his temper, and developed
a stinginess which I think is foreign to his
real nature. I fancy, too, he had a great loss
when his wife died. She was a woman, I am
told, of education and refinement. It must
have been from her that Margaret got her
beauty, and Alec his fine eyes.

But I have not told you what the neigh-
bourhood is like. Well, the farmhouse is

THE SECOND LETTER. 23

built on the side of a knoll, and at the top is
a very respectable ruin. The castle, from
which the farm takes its name, must have been
a strong place at one time. The keep is still
standing, and its walls are quite five feet
thick. Besides the keep, time has spared
part of the front, some of the buttresses, and
some half- ruined doorways and windows. But
the whole place is overgrown with weeds and
nettles. No one takes the slightest interest
in this relic of another age : nobody could tell
me who built it, or give me even a shred of
a legend about its history.

As I was wandering about the walls of the
ruin, trying to select a point from which to
sketch it, I was joined by Alec Lindsay.
He had one or two books under his arm ; and
he stopped short on seeing me, as if he had
not expected to find anyone there.

{ Don't let me interrupt you,' I said, begin-
ning to move away. ' You make this place
your study, I see.'

1 Sometimes I bring my books up here,' he

24 THE LINDSA VS.

replied. ' There is a corner under the wall of
the tower which is quite sheltered from the
wind. Even the rain can hardly reach it, and
I have a glorious view of the sunset when I sit
there on fine evenings.'

1 1 should like to see the place/ said I, anxious
to put the lad at his ease ; and he led me to a
corner among the ruins, from which, as he
said, a wide view was obtained.

Near at hand were pastures and harvest-
fields. Beyond them was the bed of the river,
fringed with wood, and the horizon was
bounded by low moorland hills.

i From the top of that one,' said Alec, point-
ing to one of the hills, ' you can catch a glint
of the sea. It shines like a looking-glass. I
would like to see it near at hand.'

' Have you never been to the seaside V I
asked.

I must have betrayed my surprise by my
voice, for the boy blushed as he answered :

' No ; I have been to Glasgow once or twice,
but I have never been to the salt water.'

THE SECOND LETTER. 25

(The seaside is always spoken of as ' the
coast ' or ' the salt water ' in this part of
the country.) ' I have never been beyond
Muirburn, except once or twice, in my life,' lie
added, as the look of discontent which I
fancied I had detected in his face grew
stronger.

'May I look at your books?' I asked, by
way of changing the subject.

1 Oh yes ; they're not much to look at,' he
said with a blush.

I took them up — a Greek grammar, and a
school-book containing simple passages of
Greek for translation, with a vocabulary at
the end of the volume.

' Is this how you spend your leisure time V
I asked.

1 Not always — not very often/ answered
Alec. ' Often I am lazy and go in for Euclid
and algebra — I like them far better than
Greek. And sometimes,' he added with hesi-
tation, as if he were confessing a fault — ' some-
times I waste my time with a novel/

26 THE LINDSA VS.

' I would not call it wasting time if you
read good novels/ said I. ' What do you
read V

' Only Sir Walter and old volumes of Black-
wood ; they are all I have got.'

' You could not do better, in my opinion,'
said I emphatically. ' Such books are just
as necessary for your education as a Greek
delectus.'

' Do you think so V said the lad, with
wondering eyes. ' These are not my father's
notions.'

' Shall I leave you to your work now ?' I
asked, rising from the heather on which we
were lying.

' I like to have you to talk to,' said Alec,
half shyly, half frankly. ' I seldom do get
anyone to talk to.'

1 You have your sister,' I said involuntarily.

1 Margaret is not like me. She has her own
thoughts and her own ways ; besides, she is a
girl. Will you come and see the " Lover's
Leap 1" It's a bonny place.'

THE SECOND LETTER. 27

' Where is it V

1 Only half a mile up the Logan.'

' You mean the stream that runs through
the valley down there V

1 No ; that's the Nethan. The Logan falls
into it about a mile farther up.'

We were descending the knoll as we talked;
and on our way we saw a field where the
reapers were at work. As we approached, we
saw a tall form leave the field and come to-
wards us. It was Alec's father.

' I think, Alec,' said the old man, ' you
would be better employed helping to stack the
corn, if you're too proud to take a hand at the
shearing, rather than walking about doing
nothing.'

The lad blushed furiously, and made no
answer.

1 Alec meant to have been at work over his
books,' said I ; ' but he was kind enough to
show me something; of the neighbourhood.
It doesn't matter in the least, Alec ; I can
easily find my way alone.'

28 THE LINDSA YS.

' Oh, if you have any need for the boy,
that's another matter,' said Mr. Lindsay.

I protested again that I could find my way
perfectly well, and moved off, while Alec
turned into the field with a set look about
his mouth that was not pleasant to see.

The cause of the discontent I had seen in
the lad's face was plain enough now. He is
treated like a child, as if he had no mind or
will of his own. I wonder how the boy will
turn out. It seems to me a toss-up ; or
rather, the chances are that he will break
away altogether, and ruin himself.

I went on my way to the bank of the
river, by the side of a double row of Scotch
firs. It was one of those perfect September
days when the air is still warm, when a thin
haze is hanging over all the land, when there
is no sound to be heard but now and then
the chirp of a bird, or the far-off lowing of
cattle — a day in which it is enough, and more
than enough, to sit still and drink in the
silent influences of earth and heaven, when

THE SECOND LETTER. 29

anything like occupation seems an insult to
the sweetness and beauty of nature. Across
the little river was a large plantation of firs,
growing almost to the water's edge ; and 1
could feel the balmy scent of them in the
air.

As I reached the river I overtook Margaret
Lindsay, who was walking a little way in
advance of me. She had a book under her
arm, an old volume covered in brown leather.
We greeted each other, and I soon found that
she was bound, like myself, for the ' Lover's
Leap.'

i I will show you the place,' she said ; ' we
must cross the river here.'

As she spoke she stepped on a large flat
stone that lay at the water's edge ; and I
saw that a succession of such stones, placed
at intervals of about a yard, made a path by
which the river could be crossed. The current
was pretty strong, and as the water was rush-
ing fast between the stones (which barely
showed their heads above the stream), I

3Q THE LINDSA VS.

hastened to offer Margaret my hand. But
the girl only glanced at me with a look of
surprise, and with the nearest approach to a
smile which I had seen in her face, she shook
her head and began to walk over the stepping-
stones with as much composure as if she had
been moving across a floor. Now and then
she had to make a slight spring to gain the
next stone, and she did so with the ease and
grace of a fawn. I followed a little way
behind, and when we had gained the opposite
side we walked in single file along the river-
bank, till we came to the spot where the
Logan came tumbling and dancing down the
side of a rather steep hill to meet the larger
stream. The hill was covered with brush-
wood and bracken, and a few scattered trees ;
but a path seemed to have been made through
the bushes, and up this path we began to
scramble. Once or twice I ventured to offer
Margaret my hand, but she declined my help,
saying that she could get on better alone.
After a few minutes of this climbing,

THE SECOND LETTER. 31

Margaret suddenly moved to one side, and
sprang down to a tiny morsel of gravelly
beach, at the side of the burn. I followed
her, and was fairly entranced by what I saw.
A little way above us the gorge widened,
allowing us to see the trees, which, growing
on either side of the brook, interlaced their
branches above it. From beneath the trees
the stream made a clear downward leap, of
perhaps thirty or forty feet, into a pool —
the pool at our feet — which was so deep that
it seemed nearly as black as ink. The music
of the waterfall filled the air so that we could
hardly catch the sound of each other's words ;
and if we moved to the farther end of the
little margin of beach, we heard, instead of
the noise of the waterfall, the sweet babbling
of the burn over its stony bed.

' Do you often come here V I asked, as we
stood at the edge of the stream, some little
distance from the fall.

4 Yes, pretty often when I wish to be alone,
or to have an hour's quiet reading.'

32 THE LINDSA VS.

' As you do to-day,' said I ; ' that's as
much as to say that you want to have an
hour's quiet reading now.'

' So I do/ said the girl calmly.

' Or, in other words, that it is time for me
to take myself off.'

* I did not mean that,' said Margaret, with
perfect placidity. ' Would you like to go up
to the top of the linn V

1 Very much,' said I, and we scrambled up
the bank to the upper level of the stream,
and gazed down upon the black rushing water
and the dark pool beneath, with its fringe of
cream-coloured foam.

' So this is the " Lover's Leap," I re-
marked.

' Yes,' said Margaret. ' They say that once
a young man was carrying off his sweetheart,
when her father and brothers pursued them.
The girl was riding on a pillion behind her
lover. As the only way of escape, he put
his horse at the gap over our heads — it must
have been narrower in those days than it is

THE SECOND LETTER. 33

dow — missed it, and both himself and the
lady were killed in the fall.'

' Dreadful !' I exclaimed.

' Of course it isn't true,' pursued Margaret
tranquilly.

1 Why not V I asked.

' Oh, such stories never are ; they are all
romantic nonsense.'

1 How different your streams are from those
in the south,' said I, after a pause ; ' Tenny-
son's description of a brook would hardly suit
this one.'

' What is that V she inquired.

' Don't you know it V I asked, letting
my surprise get the better of my good
manners.

1 No, I never heard it,: she said, without
the least tinge of embarrassment ; so I re-
peated the well-known lines, to which Mar-
garet listened with her eyes still fixed on the
rushing water.

' They are very pretty,' said the girl, when
I had finished ; ' but I should not care for a

vol. 1. 3

34 THE LINDSA VS.

brook like that. I should think it would he
very much like a canal, wouldn't it % — only
smaller. I like my own brook better ; and I
like Burns's description of one better than
Tennyson's.'

' Has Burns described a brook ? I wish
you would quote it to me,' said I.

' Surely you know the lines,' said Margaret ;
' they are in " Hallowe'en." '

I assured her I did not, and in a low clear
voice she repeated :

' Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays,

As through the glen it "wimples ;
Whyles round a rocky scaur it strays ;

Whyles in a wiel it dimples.
Whyles glitterin' to the noontide rays,

Wi' bickerin', dancin' dazzle,
Whyles cookin' underneath the braes,

Below the spreading hazel.'

' I think they are beautiful lines, so far as I
understand them,' was my verdict. ' What
is " cookin'," for example ? I know it does
not mean frying, or anything of that kind,
but '

I stopped, for the girl looked half offended

THE SECOND LETTER. 35

at my poor little attempt to be funny at the
expense of a Scotch word.

4 There is no word for it in English, that I
know of,' she said. ' It means crouching
down, contentedly, in a comfortable place. If
you saw a hen on a windy day under a stook of
corn, you might say it was " cooking " there.'

1 Thank you,' I replied ; ' I won't forget.
And now I must be off, for I know you came
here to read.'

If in my vanity I had hoped for permission
to remain, I was disappointed. Nothing of
the kind was forthcoming.

' I hope you have got an interesting book,'
said I, wondering what the old brown-leather
volume could be.

' You might not think it very interesting,'
answered Margaret, raising her lovely eyes to
mine, as tranquilly as if she had been speaking
of a newspaper. ' It is only a volume of old
sermons. Good-bye till dinner-time, Mr.
Blake ;' and so saying she turned to seek her
favourite nook, at the side of the waterfall.

3—2

36 THE L1NDSA YS.

* Old sermons !' I exclaimed to myself as
I left her. ' What a singular girl she is.
Fancy '

But my reflections were cut short, for
I ' lifted up mine eyes ' and saw a mountain
ash — they call them 4 rowan trees ' here — full
of berries.

Sophy, such a tree is the most beautiful
object in nature ; there is no way of de-
scribing it, no way of putting its beauty into
words. If you doubt what I say, look well at
the next one you see, and then tell me if I am
wrong. Good-night.

Ever yours affectionately,

Hubert Blake.

P.S. — I mean to get M. to sit for her
portrait to-morrow ; but I see that in order
to gain this end I shall have to use all my
skill in diplomacy, both with the young lady
and with her respected father.

H. B.

CHAPTER III.

THE THIRD LETTER.

Hubert Blake to Sophy Meredith.

The Castle Farm, Muikburn, N.B.,
September 17.

My dear Sophy,

It did not occur to me, when I agreed
to consider myself Mr. Lindsay's guest until
to-day, that the arrangement would entail my
spending the greater part of a glorious autumn
day within the walls of the Muirburn Free
Kirk — but you shall hear. I suspected, from
something which fell from my host at break-
fast, that the excuses which I intended to
offer for my not accompanying the family to
church would not be considered sufficient ;
but when I ventured to hint at something of

38 THE LINDSA VS.

the kind my remark was received by such
a horrified stare (not to speak of the look of
consternation on Margaret's beautiful face),
that I saw that to have made any further
struggle for freedom would have been a posi-
tive breach of good manners. I submitted,
therefore, with as good a grace as I could ;
and I was afterwards given to understand that
to have absented myself from ' ordinances '
that Sunday would have been little short of a
scandal, seeing that it happened to be ' Sacra-
ment Sunday.'

If you ask a Scotchman how many sacra-
ments there are, he will answer, if he re-
members the Shorter Catechism, two. If,
however, he is taken unawares, he will answer,
one. Baptism is popularly considered to be a
mere ceremony, of no practical importance to
the infant recipient of it. It is regarded
chiefly as an outward sign and token of the
respectability of the parents, since it is only
administered to the children of well-behaved
people. ' The Sacrament ' means the Lord's

THE THIRD LETTER. 39

Supper, which is administered in Presbyterian
churches generally four times, but in country
places often only twice a year. This, as it
happened, was one of the ' quarterly ' Com-
munions, and as such popularly considered as
of less dignity than those which occur at the
old-fashioned seasons of July and January.

We set off about a quarter- past ten in the
heavy, two-wheeled dog-cart which brought
me here. I manifested an intention of walk-
ing to the village, and asked Alec to accom-
pany me, but Mr. Lindsay intervened and
protested strongly against my proposal. He
said it would not be ' seemly,' by which I
suppose he meant that it would be inconsis-
tent with the dignity of the family, if a guest
of his house were to be seen going to church
on foot ; but I could not help suspecting that
he envied Alec and myself the sinful pleasure
which a four-mile walk on so lovely a morning
would have afforded us.

I can see that my elderly cousin (three
times removed) is one of those people who are

4o THE LINDSA VS.

thoroughly unhappy unless they get their own
way in everything, and never enjoy them-
selves more than when they have succeeded in
spoiling somebody's pleasure. I mentally re-
solved to have as little to do with the old
gentleman as I possibly could, and mounted to
the front seat of the dog-cart, which, as the
place of honour, had been reserved for me.

As the old mare trotted soberly along, I
could not help noticing the silence that seemed
to brood over the fields. I have remarked the
same thing in England, but somehow a Scotch
Sunday seems even more still and quiet than
an English one. Is it merely a matter of
association and sentiment ? Or is it that we
miss on Sundays hundreds of trifling noises
which on week-days fall unconsciously upon
our ears ?

Presently we began to pass little knots of
people trudging along churchwards. The old
women carried their Bibles wrapped up in
their pocket-handkerchiefs to preserve them
from the dust, along with the usual sprig of

THE THIRD LETTER. 41

southern-wood. The men, without exception,
wore suits of black, shiny broadcloth. They
seemed to be all farmers. Very few of the
weavers or labourers have any religion
whatever (so far as outward rites go), any
more than your unworthy cousin ; and I can't
help thinking that the necessity for shiny
black clothes has something to do with it.
The women are different ; as usual in all
countries, and in all creeds, they are more
devout than the men.

On the way we passed a group of young
women just inside a field not far from the
town, who were sitting about and stooping in
various attitudes. I could not conceive what
they were about, and turned to my host for
an explanation.

He gravely informed me that they were
putting on their shoes. Being accustomed
throughout the week to dispense with these
inventions of modern effeminacy, they find it
extremely irksome to walk for miles over
dusty roads in shoes and stockings. They

42 THE LINDSA YS.

therefore carry them in their hands till they
reach some convenient field near the town
which is the object of their journey, and then,
sitting down on the grass, they array them-
selves in that part of their raiment before
going into church.

We were now close to the town, and the
sweet-toned little bell which I had heard on
the evening of my arrival, along with a larger
one of peculiarly strident tone in the belfry of
the United Presbyterian Kirk, were ' doing
their best.' There were whole processions of
gigs or clog-carts such as that in which we
were seated. No other style of vehicle was to
be seen.

I was rather amused to see that the corner
at which on week-days the weavers stand in
their shirt-sleeves was not left unoccupied.
The place was crowded with farmers, most of
them highly respectable-looking men, clad in
long black coats and tall hats. As to the hats,
by the way, they were of all shapes which
have been in fashion for the last twenty years,

THE THIRD LETTER. 43

some of them taller than I should have sup-
posed it possible for a hat to be.

We alighted at the door of an inn, and I
noticed that the inn yard was crowded with
'machines/ i.e., dog-carts and gigs, which I
thought pretty fair evidence of the prosperity
of the country. Then we proceeded to our
place of worship. In the little vestibule was
a tall three-legged stool covered with a white
napkin, and upon this rested a large pewter
plate to receive the contributions of the faith-
ful. Two tall farmers, dressed in swallow-tail
coats, tall hats, and white neckties of the old-
fashioned, all-round description, were standing
over the treasury, and in one of them I recog-
nised my acquaintance of the coach. I was
prepared to nod him a greeting, but he pre-
served the most complete immobility of coun-
tenance, and kept his gaze fixed on the horizon
outside the church door, as if no nearer object
were worthy of his attention.

I found the church filled with dreadfully
narrow pews of unpainted wood, and facing

44 THE LINDSA VS.

them an immensely tall pulpit, with a subsi-
diary pulpit in front of the other at a lower
elevation. There were carpets on the stair-
case which led up to the pulpits, and the desks
of both were covered with red cloth, with
elaborate tassels. From either side of the
upper pulpit there projected slender, curving
brass rods about two feet long, terminating in
broad pieces of brass, fixed at right angles to
the rods. What the use of this apparatus was
I could not imagine. A steep gallery ran
round three sides of the little building ; and in
front of the pulpit was a table covered with a
white cloth.

I was not so uncharitable as to suppose that
those who came here to worship were guilty of
any intentional irreverence, but certainly they
carried out the theory that no reverence ought
to be paid to sacred places very completely.
No male person removed his hat till he was
well within the doors ; and in many cases men
did not uncover themselves till they were com-
fortably seated. No one so much as thought

THE THIRD LETTER. 45

of engaging in any private devotions. I was
surprised to see that the congregation (which
was, for the size of the building, a large one)
was composed almost entirely of women and
children ; but as soon as the bells stopped
ringing, a great clatter of heavy boots was
heard in the vestibule, and the heads of
families, whom I had seen standing at the
corner, poured into the place. Like wise men,
they had been taking the benefit of the fresh
air till the last available moment.

Hardly had the farmers taken their seats
when a man appeared, dressed entirely in black,
carrying an enormous Bible, with two smaller
books placed on the top of it. Ascending the
pulpit stairs, he placed one of the smaller books
on the desk of the lower pulpit ; and then,
going a few steps higher, he deposited the
other two volumes on the desk of the higher
one. He then retired, and immediately the
minister, a tall, dark man, with very long
black hair, wearing an immense gown of
black silk, black gloves, and white bands

46 THE LINDSA YS.

such as barristers wear, entered the church
and ascended to the pulpit. He was followed
by an older man dressed in a stuff gown,
who went into the lower pulpit. Last
of all came the door-keeper, who also went
up the pulpit stairs and carefully closed the
pulpit door after the minister. The man in
the stuff gown was left to shut his own door,
and he did so with a bang, as if in protest at
the want of respect shown to him, and his
inferior position generally.

The ritual part, as I may call it, of the ser-
vice being over, the minister rose and gave out
a psalm, just as old Mr. Lindsay does at
prayers ; and as he did so, the man in the stuff
gown got up, and pulling out two thin black
boards from under his desk, he skilfully fixed
one of them on the end of the brass rod which
projected from the right-hand side of the pulpit ;
and then, turning half round, he fixed the other
upon the similar rod on the left-hand side. On
each of these boards I read, in large gilt letters,
the word ' Martyrdom/ I could not imagine,

THE THIRD LETTER. 47

even then, the meaning of this ceremony ; but
Alec informed me afterwards that it was meant
to convey to the congregation the name of the
tune to which the psalm was to be sung, so that
they might turn it up in their tune- books, if
they felt so inclined.

When the minister had read the verses
which he wished to have sung, he gave out
the number of the psalm again in a loud voice,
and read the first line a second time, so that
there might be no mistake. He then sat
down, and the little man beneath him, rising
up, began to sing. I very nearly got into
trouble at this point by rising to my feet,
forgetting for the moment that the orthodox
Scotch fashion is to sit while singing and to
stand at prayer. (I am told that in the towns
a good many churches have adopted the habit
of standing up to sing and keeping their seats
during the prayer ; but older Presbyterians
look upon this custom, as, if not exactly
heretical, yet objectionable, as tending in the
direction of ritualism, prelacy, and other

48 THE LINDSA VS.

abominations.) For a line or two the pre-
centor was left to sing by himself, then one or
two joined in, and presently the whole body
of the congregation took up the singing. I
was surprised to find what a good effect
resulted — it was at least infinitely better than
that of an ordinary choir of mixed voices led
by a vile harmonium or American organ.
Many of the voices were rough, no doubt ;
and the precentor seemed to make it a point
of honour to keep half a note ahead of every-
body else ; but, in spite of this, the general
effect of so many sonorous voices singing in
unison was decidedly impressive.

As soon as the four prescribed verses had
been sung, the minister rose up to pray, and
everybody got up at the same time. You
know I am not easily shocked, Sophy ; and
hitherto, though I had seen much that was
ludicrous and strange, I had not seen anything
that I considered specially objectionable ; but
1 must say that the behaviour of these good
folks at the prayer which followed did shock

THE THIRD LETTER. 49

me. They simply stood up and stared at
each other ; perhaps I noticed it more par-
ticularly because I, being a stranger, came in
for a good share of attention. Many of the
men kept their hands in their pockets ; some
were occupied taking observations of the
weather, through the little windows of plain
glass, half the time. The minister, I noticed,
kept his hands clasped and his eyes tightly
closed ; and some of his flock, among whom
were my host and his daughter, followed his
example ; but the majority, as I have said,
simply stared around them. They may have
been giving, meanwhile, a mental assent to
the truths which the minister was enunci-
ating ; I dare say some of them were ; but as
far as one could judge from outward appear-
ances they were no more engaged in praying
than they were engaged in ploughing. The
prayer lasted a very long time ; when it was
over we heard a chapter read, and after another
part of a psalm was sung the sermon began.
This was evidently the event of the day, to
vol. 1. 4

50 THE LINDSA YS.

which everything said or done hitherto had
been only an accessory ; and everybody settled
himself down in his seat as comfortably as he
could.

From what I had heard of Scotch sermons
I was prepared for a well-planned logical
discourse, and the sermon to which I now
listened fulfilled that description. But
then it was, to my mind at least, entirely
superfluous. Granting the premisses (as
to which no one in the building, excepting
perhaps my unworthy self, entertained the
slightest doubt), the conclusion followed as a
matter of course, and hardly needed a demon-
stration lasting fifty minutes by my watch.
I was so tired with the confinement in a
cramped position and a close atmosphere that
I very nearly threw propriety to the winds
and left the building. Fortunately, however,
just before exhausted nature succumbed, the
preacher began what he called the 4 practical
application of the foregoing,' and I knew that
the time of deliverance was at hand. And I

THE THIRD LETTER. 51

must say that, judging from the fervour with
which the concluding verses of a psalm were
sung, I was not alone in my feeling of relief.
As soon as the psalm was ended everybody
rose, and the preacher, stretching out his arms
over his flock, pronounced a solemn benediction.
The ' Amen ' was hardly out of the good man's
mouth when a most refreshing clatter arose.
Xo one resumed his seat. Everybody hurried
into the narrow passages, which were in an
instant so crammed that moving in them was
hardly possible. Here, again, I am convinced
that there was no intentional irreverence ; it
was merely a custom arising from the ex-
tremely natural desire of breathing the fresh
air after the confinement we had undergone.
As we passed out I overheard several casual
remarks about the sermon, which was dis-
cussed with the utmost freedom.

' Maister McLeod was a wee thocht dry the
day,' said one farmer.

1 But varra guid — varra soon',' responded
his neighbour.

52 THE LINDSA ) S.

' I thocht he micht ha' made raither mair
o' that last pint,' said the first speaker.

' Weel- — maybe,' was the cautious reply.

We went over to the inn for a little refresh-
ment, and in three-quarters of an hour the
bells began to jangle once more. This was
more than I had bargained for ; but there was
no help for it. I could not offend my host by
retreating ; and besides, I was desirous of
seeing for myself what a Scottish Communion
Service was like.

After the usual singing of a few verses of a
psalm, and prayer, the minister descended
from the pulpit, and took his place beside the
table beneath, on which thers had now been
placed two loaves of bread, and four large
pewter cups. From this position he delivered
an address, and after it a prayer. He then
took a slice from one of the loaves of bread
which were ready cut before him, broke off a
morsel for himself, and handed the piece of
bread to one of several elderly men, called
4 elders,' who were seated near him. This

THE THIRD LETTER. 53

man broke off a morsel in the same way, and
handed the remainder of the bread to another,
and so on till all the elders had partaken.
Four of the elders then rose, and two went
down one side of the church, and two down
the other side, one of each pair bearing a
plate covered with a napkin, and holding
a loaf of bread cut in slices, which they
distributed among those of the congregation
who were sitting in the centre of the
church, and who alone were about to
take part in the rite. The ceremony is, in
fact, very much, or altogether, the same
as the ' love-feasts ' among the Methodists ;
except that the Methodists use water while
the Presbyterians use wine. There is nothing
of the sacramental character left in the ordi-
nance ; it is avowedly a commemorative and
symbolic rite, and nothing more.

In the meantime perfect silence reigned in
the little building. There was literally not
a sound to be heard but the chirping of one
or two sparrows outside the partly-opened

54 THE L/NDSA VS.

windows. Have you ever noticed how im-
pressive an interval of silence is at any meet-
ing of men, especially when they are met
together for a religious purpose ? Silence is
never vulgar ; and it almost seems as if any
form of worship in which intervals of silence
form a part were redeemed thereby from
vulgarity. Whatever may have been the
reason, this service impressed me, I must
confess, in a totally different way from that
in which the long sermon in the morning
had done.

Suddenly a gentle falsetto voice fell upon
my ear ; and looking up, I saw that the
elders, having finished their task, had re-
turned to the table, and that a little white-
haired man had risen to address the people.
He wore no gown, but he had on a pair of
bands, like his friend Mr. McLeod, which
gave him a comical sort of air. This, how-
ever, as well as the curious falsetto or whining
tone in which his voice was pitched, was for-
gotten when one began to listen. The old

THE THIRD LETTER. 55

man had chosen for his text one of the most
sacred of all possible subjects to a Christian ;
and no one who heard him could doubt that
he was speaking from his heart. A deeper
solemnity seemed to fall upon the silent
gathering. I glanced round, but whatever
emotions were excited by the touching ad-
dress, none of them were suffered to appear
on the faces of the people. On Alec Lind-
say's face, alone, I noticed a look of rapt
attention; his sister's beautiful features seemed
as if they had been carved in marble.

Before the old minister sat down he raised
one of the large cups (which had been pre-
viously filled with wine from a flagon), and
handed it to one of the elders, who, after
drinking from it, passed it to his neighbour.
After the ministers and elders had tasted the
wine, two of the latter rose, and each pro-
ceeded down one of the passages, bearing
a large pewter cup, while he was followed
by one of his fellows carrying a flagon. The
cups were handed to the people still sitting

56 THE LINDSA VS.

in the pews, exactly as the bread had been,
and circulated from one to another till all
the communicants had partaken of the wine.
Then followed another address, from the black-
haired gentleman this time ; and with a prayer
and a little more singing the ceremony came
to an end.

As we emerged into the afternoon sun-
shine, and waited for ' the beast to be put
in,' as the innkeeper called it, I could not be
sorry that I had sacrificed my inclinations
and had seen something of the practice of
religion in this country.

But I dare say you have had enough of
my experiences for the present — so, good-
night.

Your affectionate cousin,

Hubert Blake.

CHAPTER IV.

THE FOURTH LETTER.

Hubert Blake to Sophy Meredith.

The Castle Farm, Muirburn, N.B.
Oct. 5, 187-.

My dear Sophy,

Yesterday there was a ' feeing fair '
at Muirburn, and under Alec's guidance I
paid a visit to the scene of dissipation.

But, first of all, I wish to tell you of a
curious Scotch custom that fell under my
notice the evening before. Alec and I were
returning from a short ramble in the ' gloam
ing,' i.e., the twilight, when we happened to
meet a young couple walking side by side.
As soon as they caught sight of us they
separated, and walked on opposite sides of

58 THE LINDSAYS.

the road till we had passed. This, it seems,
was according to local ideas of what is proper
under such circumstances. As we went by I
glanced at the girl, and saw that she was one
of Mr. Lindsay's farm- servants.

' So Jessie has got a sweetheart,' I remarked.

' Very likely,' said Alec, with a laugh ; ' but
I don't think Tom Archibald is her lad. He
is only the " black-frit." '

< The what f

'The " black -fuit." Dae ye no ken — I
mean, don't ye know what that is V

On confessing my ignorance, I learned that
the etiquette of courtship, as understood
among the peasantry of south-west Scotland,
demands that no young ploughman shall
present himself at the farm on which the
young woman who has taken his fancy may
happen to be emp]oyed ; if he did so, it would
expose the girl to a good deal of bantering.
He invariably secures the services of a friend,
on whom he relies not only for moral support,
but for actual assistance in his enterprise.

THE FOURTH LETTER. 59

At the end of the working-day, when the
dairymaids, as we should call them in
England, have ' cleaned themselves,' and are
chatting together in a little group at the door
of the byre, John, the friend, makes his ap-
pearance, and presently contrives to engage
the attention of Jeanie, who is the object of
his friend's devotion. The other girls good-
naturedly leave them alone, and John sug-
gests that ' they micht tak' a bit daun'er as
far as the yett ' (i.e., the gate). Jeanie
blushes, and picking up the corner of her
apron as she goes, accompanies the ambas-
sador to the gate and into the lane beyond.
There, by pure accident, they meet Archie,
and he and John greet each other in the same
way as if they had not met each other for a
week. The three saunter on together, under
the hawthorn, till suddenly John remembers
that he will be ' expeckit hame,' and takes his
departure, leaving Archie to plead his cause as
best he may.

I declared my conviction that the custom

6o THE LINDSA VS.

sprang from unworthy fears of an action for
breach of promise ; but Alec was almost
offended by this imputation on the good faith
of his countrymen, and assured me most
seriously that that kind of litigation was un-
heard of in Kyleshire.

Next day we went to the fair. The object
of this gathering is to enable farmers to meet
and engage their farm-servants, male and
female ; it takes place twice a year, the
hiring being always for six months.

The village, or •' the toon,' as they always
call it here, was in a state of great excitement.
There was quite a crowd in the middle of the
street, chiefly composed of young women in
garments of many colours, in the most
enviable condition of physical health ; and
young giants of ploughmen in their best
clothes, with carefully oiled hair. On the
outskirts of the crowd (which was as dense as
four hundred people could possibly make it),
were a few queys, i.e., young cows, and a few
rough farm-horses. The public-houses were

THE FOURTH LETTER. 61

simply crammed as full as they would hold.
There was a swing, and a merry-go-round,
and a cheap- Jack. There was also a sort of
lottery, conducted on the most primitive prin-
ciples. You paid sixpence, plunged your hand
into a little wooden barrel revolving on a
spindle, and pulled out a morsel of peculiarly
dirty paper bearing a number. This entitled
you to a comb, or an accordion with three
notes, or a penny doll, as the case might be.

What chiefly impressed me was the sober,
not to say dismal, character of the whole thing.
I saw no horse-play, no dancing, no kiss-in-the-
ring, or games of any kind. One might have
thought it was an ordinary market-day, but for
the crowd and the cracking of the caps on the
miniature rifles with which the lads were shoot-
ing for nuts. This, in fact, was the only
popular amusement ; and, as all the boys and
young men took part in it, and all held the
muzzle of their weapon within twelve or four-
teen inches of the mark, I perceived that
every proprietor of a nut-barrow would have

62 THE LINDSA VS.

been ruined if he had not secured himself
against bankruptcy by prudently twisting the
barrels of his firearms.

There was, by the way, one other amuse-
ment besides the shooting for nuts : every
young man presented every girl of his ac-
quaintance with a handful of nuts or sweet-
meats, the degree of his regard being indicated
by the quantity offered. I convinced myself
that some of the prettier and more popular
girls must have carried home several pounds'
weight of saccharine matter.

We did not leave the village till it was
getting dark and the naphtha lamps were
blazing at the stalls. Probably the fun was
only beginning, but we did not stay to witness
it. Happily, the drinking seemed to be con-
fined to great, large-limbed farmers, on whom
half a bottle of whisky seemed to make not
the slightest impression, beyond loosening
their tongues. As the night advanced, how-
ever, a change must have occurred, for I was
told afterwards that Hamilton of Burnfoot (my

THE FOURTH LETTER. 63

friend of the coach and of the offertory) had
been seen sitting upright in his gig, thrashing
with all his might, and in perfect silence, a
saddler's hobby-horse, which some wag had
put between the shafts in place of his steady
old ' roadster.'

On the way home Alec and I had some con-
fidential conversation as to his future.

* Mr. Blake,' he began, ' what do you think
I ought to be V

* How can I tell, Alec V I answered ; l what
would you like to be V

4 That's just what I don't know,' said the
lad gloomily. ' I don't know what I am fit
for, or whether I am fit for anything. How
can I tell, before I have seen anything of the
world, what part I should try to play in it V

' You have no strong taste in any direc-
tion V

' No ; I can't say that I have. I like the
country, but I am sick of the loneliness of my
life here. I long to be out in the world, to be
up and doing something, I hardly know what.

64 THE L1NDSA YS.

You see, I know so little. What I should like
is to go to college for the next three or four
years — to Glasgow, or Edinburgh — and by
that time I would have an idea what I could
do, and what I should not attempt.'

* But do you think.' I said, with some
hesitation, ' that you are ready to go to
college V

1 Why not ? Don't you think I am old
enough ? I am almost nineteen. I dare say
you think I am too ignorant ; but there are
junior classes for beginners. I can do Virgil
and Cicero, and I think I eould manage
Xenophon and Homer.'

' What is the difficulty then V

' My father thinks it would be wasting
money to send me to college, unless I were
to be a minister or a doctor, and I don't want
to be either the one or the other.'

1 But you must be something, you know.'

' Yes, but I won't be a minister. Do you
know that I was once very nearly in the way
of making my fortune through paraffin oil.

THE FOURTH LETTER. 65

and lost my chance through an ugly bull-
pup V

4 Really ? How was that V

4 Mr. Lindsay of Drumleck '

1 Is he a relation of yours V I interposed.

(It was a surprise to me to hear that I
was, ever so distantly, related to a million-
naire.)

' He is my father's uncle,' said Alec. ' Well,
last year he sent for me to pay him a visit,
and he had hinted to my father that if I
pleased him he would " make a man of me.1'
I didn't please him. The very day I went to
his house, I happened to be standing near a
table in the drawing-room on which there was
a precious vase of some sort or other. There
was a puppy under the table that I didn't see ;
I trod on its tail, and the brute started up
with a yowl and flew at my leg. I stooped
down to drive it off, and managed to knock
over the table, vase and all. You should
have seen the old man's face ! He very
nearly ordered me out of the house. I don't

vol. 1. 5

66 THE LINDSA VS.

believe he particularly cared for the thing,
but then you see he had given flve-and-
twenty pounds for it. It ended my chances
so far as he is concerned at any rate ; and,
to tell the truth, I wasn't particularly sorry.
I shouldn't care to spend my life in making
oil.'

' But, my dear fellow, it seems to me you
are too particular. Take my advice, and if
you have an opportunity of getting into
your grand-uncle's good books again, don't
lose it.'

' Oh ! he has taken another in my place, a
fellow Semple — I don't think much of him.
He is a grand-nephew, too. I shouldn't
wonder if he makes him his heir ; and I
don't care. I don't wan't to be a Glasgow
merchant, any more than I want to be a
Kyleshire farmer.'

' Ah ! Alec, are you smitten too V I said.
' You want to climb, and you will not think
that you may fall. I didn't know you were
ambitious.'

THE FOURTH LETTER. 67

4 1 want to go into a wider world than this
one ;' said the lad, and his eyes flashed, and
his voice trembled with excitement. ' I want
to learn, first of all ; then I want to find what
I can do best, and try to make a name for

myself. I want to rise to the level of oh !

what am I talking about V

He broke off abruptly, as if ashamed of his
own enthusiasm.

For my own part I felt sorry for him. I
always do, somehow, when I see a brave
young spirit eager to meet and conquer for-
tune— a ship setting sail from port, colours
all flying, guns firing, crowds cheering. How
many reach the harbour % How many founder
at sea ?' One is wrecked in this way, another
in that. One gallant bark meets with head-
winds nearly all the way ; another is run
down by a rival and is heard of no more ; a
third, after baffling many a wintry gale, goes
down in smooth water, within sight of land.
How many unsuccessful men are there in the
world for every one who succeeds \ And of

5—2

68 THE LINDSA VS.

those who gain their heart's desire, how many
can say, 1 1 am satisfied ' ?

October 29.

I was fairly amazed to find this unfinished
letter, begun three weeks ago, between the
leaves of my blotter this morning. Another
example of my incurable laziness !

My stay here is almost at an end. My
large picture is nearly completed. My por-
trait of Margaret is finished ; and though it
is not what I would like it to be, I think it is
the best thing I have done yet. I leave to-
morrow morning, and hope to be with you in
a day or two. Alec goes with me as far as
Glasgow, for he has persuaded his father to
send him to college — or rather, the old man
has yielded to the lad's discontent, backed by
my expressions of the high opinion I hold of
his abilities. I fancy Mr. Lindsay thinks his
son will yet be an ornament to the Free Kirk,
but, if I am not very much mistaken, Alec
will never change his mind on this point.

THE FOURTH LETTER. 69

We had a regular family council, at which
the matter was settled. The old man sat on
his chair, bolt upright, his hands folded before
him. Alec sat near by while his future was
being decided, carelessly playing with a paper-
knife on the table. Margaret was, as usual, at
her sewing ; but I could tell by little signs in
her face, that for once her composure was more
than half assumed.

' You had your chance a year ago,' said the
old man in a harsh unyielding tone, ' and you
threw it away. Why should I stint myself,
and go back from my task of buying back the
land, to give you another one V

1 I don't wish you to stint yourself,' said the
boy half sullenly.

1 I don't want to injure your sister,' said his
father, in the same tone.

4 Do you think / wish Margaret injured ?
If you cannot spare five-and- twenty pounds
without inconvenience, there's an end of it.'

' It's not the first winter only,' began Mr.
Lindsay.

70 THE LINDSA YS.

' But I can support myself after that,' in-
terrupted Alec ; ' I can get a bursary ; I can
get teaching '

' You'll have to give up idling away your
time over Blackwood then,' said the old man,
with a grim smile.

Alec's face Hushed, and he made no reply.

Then, having proved that Alec's wish was
wholly unreasonable and impracticable, Mr.
Lindsay gave his consent to the proposal, and,
to cut short further discussion, told Margaret
to bid the servants come to ' worship.'

I was rather surprised that Margaret had
said nothing on her brother's behalf, and a
little disappointed that she had not declared
that her own interests ought not to stand in
the way of her brother's education ; but I
found that I had misjudged her.

' Well, I owe this to Margaret,' said Alec
to me. as soon as we found ourselves alone
together.

' To your sister V I said, with some sur-
prise.

THE FOURTH LETTER. 71

' Yes ; my father thinks more of her
opinion than he does of anybody else's, and
I know she has been urging him to let me
go. As for that about injuring her, it is
all stuff. Do you think I would take the
money, if I didn't know my father could
afford it perfectly well1?'

I hardly knew what reply to make to this,
and Alec went on :

1 There will be a row between them one of
these days. My father will want her to marry
Semple. I know he is in love with her ; and
Margaret won't have him.'

' I should think not, indeed !' I exclaimed.

I had seen this young fellow, and I confess
I took a violent dislike to him. He came
over to the farm one afternoon, and I thought
I had never seen a more vulgar creature. He
was dressed in the latest fashion — on a visit
to a farmhouse, too ! He had a coarse,
commonplace face, a ready, officious manner,
and the most awful accent I ever heard on the
tongue of any human being. I cannot say I

72 THE LIXDSA YS.

admire the Scotch accent ; it is generally harsh
and disagreeable ; but when it is joined to an
affectation of correctness, when every syllable
is carefully articulated, and every r is given
its full force and effect, the result is over-
powering. The young man was good enough
to give me a considerable share of his attention,
and I could hardly conceal my dislike of him.
He patronized old Mr. Lindsay, was loftily
condescending to Alec, and treated Margaret
as if she ought to have been highly flattered
by the admiration of so fine a gentleman.

' Your respected cousin seemed to me as if
he were greatly in need of a kicking,' I said
to Alec.

1 If he gets even a share of Uncle James's
property he will be a rich man,' said Alec
thoughtfully. 'My father would think it a
sin for Maggie to refuse a man with a hundred
thousand pounds.'

' So would a good many fathers, I sup-
pose,' said I.

I am sorry to see Alec's attitude to his

THE FOURTH LETTER. 73

father ; yet I fear he judges the old man only
too accurately.

For the last few days we have had nothing
but rain. Rain, rain, rain, till the leaves
were fairly washed off the trees, and the very
earth seemed as if it must be sodden to the
rocks beneath. Yesterday afternoon I felt
tired of being shut up in the large bare
room which I have been using as a studio,
so I put on a thick suit, and went out for
a stretch in the midst of a perfect deluge.
I crossed the river by a stone bridge, about
a mile lower down, as the stepping-stones were
covered, and soon I got to a wide expanse of
country, composed of large sodden green fields,
barely reclaimed from the moor, and even now,
in spite of drains, partly overgrown with
rushes. There were no fences ; and the hardy
cattle wandered at will over the land.

It was inexpressibly dreary. There was
little or no wind — no clouds in the sky —
only a lead- coloured heaven from which the
rain fell incessantly. There was not a house,

74 THE LINDSA VS.

not a tree, not a hedgerow in sight ; and the
rain-laden atmosphere hid the horizon.

Suddenly I heard the noise of singing, the
singing of a child. I was fairly startled, and
looked round, wondering where the sound
could come from. I was on the border
between the moor and the reclaimed land ;
and there was literally nothing in sight but
the earth, the sky, and the rain, except what
looked like a small heap of turf left by the
peat- cutters. Could some stray child be
hidden behind it ? If so, I thought, its life
must be in clanger.

I hurried up to the mound of peats, and as
1 did so, the sound of the song became
stronger. Then it ceased, and the little
singer began a fresh melody :

' Behind yon hills where Lugar flows,
'Mang muirs an' mosses mony, 0,
The wintry sun the day has closed '

He stopped suddenly as he caught sight of
me, and a fine collie which had been lying
beside him made a dash at me.

THE FOURTH LETTER. 75

1 D0011, Swallow ! Lie doon, sir !' cried
the child, and the dog obeyed at once.

It was not a heap of peats, as I had sup-
posed, but a tiny hut, just large enough to
hold a boy sitting upright, ingeniously built
of dry peats. It was open to the east, the
lee side, and was quite impervious to the
weather. The little fellow seemed to be
about twelve years of age, a stout, rosy-
cheeked laddie, clad in an immense Scotch
bonnet and a tattered gray plaid ; and his
little red bare feet peeped out beneath his
corduroys.

' What on earth are you doing here, child V
I exclaimed.

' Eh V asked the boy, looking up in my
face with surprise.

' Why are you here ? Why are you not at
home V

1 Man, I'm herdin'.'

1 Herding what V

1 The kye.'

At that moment some of the young cattle

76 THE LINDSA VS.

took it into their heads to cross the ditch
which separated their territory from the moor,
and the boy with a ' Here, Swallow F sent
the dog bounding after the ' stirks.'

1 And do you stay here all alone V

'Ay.'

' All day long V

' Ou, ay.'

' Poor little fellow !' was on my lips, but
I did not utter the words. The child was
healthy and strong, and not, apparently, un-
happy. He held a ' gully ' in one hand, and
a bit of wood, which he had been whittling
while he sang, in the other. Why should I,
by expressing my pity for his solitary
condition, make him discontented with his
lot?

Fortunately I had in my pocket a few
coppers, which I presented to him. You
should have seen the joy that lighted up
the child's face ! He looked at the treasure
shyly, as if afraid to touch it, so I had to
force it into his hand. I don't think I ever

THE FOURTH LETTER. 77

saw before such an expression of pure un-
alloyed delight on a human countenance.
He was so happy that he forgot to thank
rne.

' What will you do with them V I
asked.

He opened his hand and pointed to the
pennies one after another.

' I'll buy sweeties wi' that ane, an' — an'
bools wi' that ane, an' — an' — an' a peerie wi'
that ane ; an' I'll gi'e ane to Annie, and I'll
lay by twa !'

'Prudent young Scotchman,' said I; 'and
pray, what are " bools "? Marbles, I suppose.
And what is a " peerie "?'

The boy thought I was laughing at him.

1 Div ye no ken that V he asked, with some
suspiciousness and a dash of contempt.

I assured him I did not.

1 Ye tie't up wi' a string, an' birl't on the
road, an' it gangs soon' soon' asleep.'

' Oh, a top you mean.'

1 A peerie,' persisted he.

78 THE LINDSA VS.

1 Ah, well ; it's the same thing. Good-day,
my boy,' said I.

The little fellow got up, draped as he was
in his ragged plaid, and putting one hand
with the precious pennies into his pocket,
solemnly extended to me the other.

' I dare say,' said 1 to myself, as I looked
back and saw the child counting over his
treasure once more with eager eyes, ' I dare
say there isn't a happier creature this day
between Land's End and John O'Groats, than
this herd-boy, in his lonely hut on the sodden,
dreary moorland !'

And so it is, all the world over. I should
think myself very hardly used by fortune,
if I had to live alone in a grimy city for six
months on five-and- thirty pounds, and had to
get up every day before dawn to grind away
at Latin and Greek ; yet here is young Lind-
say with his blue eyes ready to leap out of
his head with excitement and delight at the
bare prospect of it ! It is a curious world.
But I must look after my packing ; for in

THE FOURTH LETTER. 79

order to reach Glasgow to-morrow, we must
be stirring long before daylight. Till we
meet, then,

Your affectionate cousin,

Hubert.

CHAPTER V.

THE SHIP SETS SAIL.

A sudden change in the weather had whitened
the fields of the Castle Farm, and covered the
puddles in the narrow lane with thin clear
sheets of ice. Little or nothing was said at
the breakfast- table ; but as Alec Lindsay went
into the empty kitchen to fasten a card on his
little cow-hide trunk, his sister followed him,
and stood over him in silence till one of the
men came in, lifted the box, and carried it
away.

1 You will write home every week, won't
you, Alec V she said.

' Every week, Maggie ! what in the world
shall I get to say V

■ Tell us what your life is like, whether

THE SHIP SETS SAIL. 81

your lodgings are comfortable, what sort of
people you take up with.'

1 Well ; all right.'

1 And, Alec, you had better write to father
and me time about ; and when you write to
me you can send a little scrap for myself as
well.'

' That you needn't show to anybody ? I
thought that was against your principles,
Meg. Don't mind me, I was only making
fun of you,' he added, suddenly throwing his
arms round his sister's neck ; ' of course I will
send you a little private note now and then.
Don't cry, Maggie/

1 I'm not crying/

' Yes, you are.'

1 It will be very lonely without you, Alec,
all the long winter.'

1 I almost wish I weren't going, for your
sake ; but I know you have helped me to get
away. Maggie, and it was awfully kind of
you.'

Here Mr. Lindsay's voice was heard calling

vol. i. 6

82 THE LINDSA YS.

out that the travellers would miss the coach if
they did not set off at once.

' Nonsense ! We shall only have to wait
at the roadside for twenty minutes,' said Alec
under his breath. But he gave his sister
a last hug, shook hands with his father, and
mounted the back-seat of the dog-cart, where
his trunk and Blake's portmanteau were already
deposited.

In another minute they were off; and Alec,
looking back, saw the light of the lantern
shine on the tall figures of his gray- haired
father and his sister, framed in the old stone
doorway as in a picture.

The stable was passed, the long byre where
the cows were already stirring, the stack-yard,
the great hay-rick, the black peat-stack Hank-
ing the outmost gable ; and as each familiar
building and well- remembered corner faded in
turn from view, Alec in his heart bade them
good-bye. He felt as if he would never see
the old place again — never, at least, would it
be to him what it had been. When he came

THE SHIP SETS SAIL. 83

again it would be merely for a visit, like any
other stranger. The subtle, invisible chains
that bind us to this or that corner of mother
earth, once broken, can hardly be reforged ;
aod Alec felt that no future leave-taking of
the Farm would be like this one ; henceforth
it would belong not to the present, but to the
past.

As the travellers had foreseen when they
set out, they had a good twenty minutes to
wait at the corner of the lane till the coach
came up ; then came the long, monotonous
drive, the horses' hoofs keeping time to ' Auld
Lang Syne ' in Alec's head all the way ; then
the railway journey. Blake had, as a matter
of course, taken a first-class ticket. Alec had,
equally as a matter of course, taken a third-
class one. When this was discovered, Blake
took his seat beside his friend, laughing at the
uneasiness depicted on Alec's face, and de-
clined without a second thought the lad's
proposal that he too should travel first-class
and pay the difference of fare. But the

6—2

84 THE LINDSA VS.

incident caused Alec acute mental discomfort,
which lasted till they reached Glasgow.

When the train steamed into the terminus,
it seemed as if it were entering a huge gloomy
cavern, where the air was composed of smoke,
mist, and particles of soot. The frost still
held the fields in Kyleshire ; but here the rain
was dripping from every house-top, and the
streets were covered with a thick layer of
slimy mud.

Blake shuddered.

' I've got nothing particular to do, Alec,' said
he ; ' let me help you to look for lodgings.'

But Alec had no mind to let his friend see
the sort of accommodation with which he
would have to content himself ; and the artist
saw that the lad wanted to decline his offer,
without very well knowing how.

1 Or perhaps you'd rather hunt about by
yourself ? continued Blake. * Well, in that
case, I think I'll be off to Edinburgh at once,
and go to London that way. Anything to be
out of this.'

THE SHIP SETS SAIL. 85

He stopped suddenly, and hoped that his
companion had not heard his last words.
They took a cab to Queen Street ; and after
seeing his friend off to Edinburgh, Alec set
out od his quest of a shelter. A few steps
brought him to the district north of George
Street, where, in those days, the poorer class
of students had their habitations. The streets
were not particularly broad, and the houses
were of tremendous height, looking like great
barracks placed one at the end of another,
though their hewn- stone fronts saved them
from the mean appearance of brick or stucco
exteriors. After a good deal of running up
and down steep staircases (for these houses are
built in flats), Alec at last pitched upon a
narrow but lofty sitting-room, with a still
narrower bedroom opening from it. For this
accommodation the charge was only eight
shillings a week.

After a peculiarly uncomfortable meal, Alec
Lindsay set out for ' The College.'

The University of Glasgow, founded by

86 THE LINDSA YS.

a Bull of one of the mediaeval Popes, had in
those days its seat in the High Street, once
the main thoroughfare of the city, but long
since fallen from its old estate. The air
seemed thicker, more full of smoke and soot,
of acid vapours and abominable smells, in this
quarter, than in any other part of the town.

An ancient pile of buildings faced the street;
and a quaint gateway gave access to the outer
quadrangle or ' first court,' as Alec soon
learned to call it. Here a solid stone stair-
case, guarded by a stone lion on one side and
a unicorn on the other, led to the senate-room
above ; and an archway led to a quadrangle
beyond.

But Alec had scarcely time to observe as
much as this. Hardly had he set foot within
the gateway, when a gigantic man wearing
a huge black beard stalked up to him, and
without more ado caught him by the arm,
while a small crowd of half a dozen lads of his
own age, wearing gowns of red flannel, swarmed
round him on the other side.

THE SHIP SETS SAIL. 87

' I say !' exclaimed the big man ; ' you're
going to matriculate, aren't you V

4 Of course ; that's what I came here for.'

' And where were you born V

' Where was I born V asked Alec, in be-
wilderment.

' Yes ; be quick, man. Do you come from
Highlands or Lowlands, or from beyond the
Border ?

' Why do you want to know ¥

1 He comes from the county of Clack-
mannan ; I know by the cut of his hair !'
yelled a red-haired, freckled youth of some
seventeen summers.

' Get out, you unmannerly young cub !'
cried the big man, making a dash at the
offender, without releasing his hold of Alec's
arm.

'Are you Transforthana V cried another.
\ Oh, say if you're Transforthana, like a good
fellow, and don't keep us in suspense.'

'He's Rothseiana! I know it!' bawled out
a fourth.

88 THE LINDSA VS.

At this point a little man in spectacles
darted from a low doorway on the left with a
sheaf of papers printed in red ink, which he
began to distribute as fast as he could.
Instantly the men who had fastened upon
Alec left him, and rushed off to secure one
of the papers, and Alec followed their ex-
ample.

After some little trouble he got one, and then
elbowing his way out of the crowd, began to
read it. He found it was a not very comical
parody of ' Come into the garden, Maud,' the
allusions being half of a political, half of an
academical character.

Looking up with a puzzled air, Alec en-
countered the gaze of a man ten or twelve
years his senior, who was regarding him with
a look of mingled interest and amusement.
He was considerably over six feet high, and
broad in proportion. He wore a suit of
tweeds, a blue Scotch bonnet, and a reddish-
brown beard. He had the high cheek-bones
and large limbs of the true Highlander, and

THE SHIP SETS SAIL. 89

one of his eyes had a slight cast. When he
smiled, he had a cynical but not unkindly
expression.

' I wish you would tell me what all this
nonsense is about/ said Alec.

1 What nonsense would ye like to pe in-
formed apoot V inquired the other in a strong
Highland accent — ' the nonsense in that bit
paper 1 Or the nonsense o' these daft
callants ? Or the nonsense o' this haill
thing V and he waved his thick stick round
the quadrangle.

1 What is all this stir about ? ■ Why were a'
these fellows so anxious to know where I was
born V

* One quastion at a time, my lad,' answered
the big Highlander. ' They are electin' a
Lord Rector ; the ploy will gang on for a
week or ten days yet. And they vote in
"nations," according to the part o' the
country they belong to. I was born in the
Duke's country, and consequently my vote is
worth conseederably more than that o' yon

90 THE LINDSA VS.

wee spectacled callant who was kittled in the
Gorbals, for example.'

' I was born in Kyleshire,' said Alec.

' Then you're Rothseiana,' said the stranger,
1 and your vote's worth more than mine. I'd
advise ye to choose at once, and put down
your name at one club or the other, or they'll
tease your life out.'

' But who are the candidates V

1 Mr. Sharpe, and Lord Dummieden, of
course.'

Alec knew Mr. Sharpe's name as that of an
ex-Cabinet Minister on the Liberal side, who
had the reputation of being a scholar, but who
had never written anything beyond two or
three pungent articles in The Debater.

' And who is Lord Dummieden V

' What !' answered the Highlander ; 'is it
possible that you have never heard of the
" History of the British Isles before the Roman
Invasion," in sixteen volumes, by the Right
Honourable James Beattie, Viscount Dummie-
den, of Crumlachie ¥

THE SHIP SETS SAIL. 91

Alec gave an incredulous look, and the
other laughed outright.

' Don't be offended,' said the Highlander.
1 Have you matriculated yet % No ? Come
awa' then, and I'll show you the way.' He
passed his arm through Alec's as he spoke,
and led him to a tiny office in a corner of
the quadrangle which was half filled with
students.

' What is your name V asked Alec's new
friend, as they stood waiting their turn to
enter their names in the volume kept for the
purpose. Alec told him. 'Mine's Cameron
— Duncan Cameron. I'm a medical. This is
my third year. Have you got lodgings V

1 Yes ; at No. 210, Hanover Street.

1 Does your landlady look a decent body ?
I'll come round and see if she has a room to
spare for me,' he added, without waiting for an
answer.

Presently Alec obtained, in exchange for one
of his father's one-pound notes, a ticket bearing
his name, and the words ' Civis Univerdtatis

92 THE LINDSA YS.

Glasguenis' printed in large letters under-
neath.

' That's all right,' said Cameron ; ' now come
along, and I'll show you the Professors' Court.
You have to call on the Latin and Greek
professors, and get your class-tickets. The
fee is three guineas each.' He led Alec
through an archway into a second and
larger quadrangle, then across it and through
another archway into a third. ' That's the
museum,' said Cameron, pointing to a build-
ing with handsome stone columns ; ' and
that's the library,' he added, pointing to a
narrow structure, built apparently of black
stone, on the right.

The two young men turned to the left,
passed through an iron gateway, and found
themselves in a gloomy and silent court,
formed by the houses of the various professors,
which, like the library, were black with smoke
and soot-flakes.

After the professors of ' Humanity ' (as
Latin is called in the north) and of Greek

THE SHIP SETS SAIL. 93

had been duly interviewed, Alec and his friend
returned to the High Street without going
back to the quadrangles ; and in a few minutes
they pulled Mrs. Macpherson's brightly-
polished bell-handle.

- I've brought a friend, a fellow-student,
who wants to know if you have any more
rooms to let,' said Alec.

I Is he a medical V asked the good woman,
knitting her brows.

I I am proud to say that I am,' said
Cameron.

' Then this is no the place for you ava.'

' An' what for no V

1 I've had eneuch, an' mair than eneuch, o'
thae misguidet callants, wi' their banes, an'
their gases, an' their gruesome talk, an' their
singin sangs, an' playing cairds, an' drinkin',
till twa, or maybe haulf-past on a Sabbath
mornin'. Na, na ; I'll hae nae mair o' the
tribe, at no price.'

But this opposition made Cameron deter-
mined that under that roof and no other

94 THE LINDSA YS.

would he take up his abode for the winter.
He bound himself by a solemn promise to
introduce neither bones, human or animal, nor
chemicals of any kind, upon the premises, and
to behave himself discreetly in other respects.
He then remembered that his aunt's hus-
band's cousin was a Macpherson ; and when it
came out that the landlady's ' forbears ' came
from Auchintosh, which was within a day's
sail of the island where the Cameron s
had their home, all objections were with-
drawn.

A large dingy sitting-room, with a ' con-
cealed bed ' constructed in a recess, so that
the room could also be used as a bedroom,
was pronounced by Cameron to be too grand ;
and on Mrs. Macpherson saying that all her
other rooms were let except an attic, he asked
if he might see that apartment. They climbed
up a steep and narrow staircase, and presently
stood in a long narrow room, right under the
slates, so low in the ceiling that Cameron
could only walk along one side of it. It was

THE SHIP SETS SAIL. 95

furnished with a narrow bedstead, a small
deal table, and two or three stout chairs.

1 First-rate !' exclaimed Cameron. ' The
very thing ;' and going to the skylight, he
pushed it open and thrust out his head and
shoulders. ' Plenty of air here — not fresh,
but better than nothing. What is the rent V

The rent was five shillings and sixpence a
week, and after a vain effort to get rid of the
sixpence, and an elaborate agreement on the
subject of coals, the bargain was concluded.

c That's settled,' said Cameron ; ' and now
I'm off to the Broomielaw to get my impedi-
menta oot 0' the Dunolly Castle. Will ye
come V

Having nothing better to do, Alec readily
acquiesced ; and the two young men walked
down Buchanan Street with its broad wet
pavements, and through the more crowded
Argyle Street and Jamaica Street, till they
reached the wharf.

Here all was damp and dismal. Coal-dust
covered the ground ; water, thick with coal-

96 THE LINDSA YS.

dust and mud, dripped from the eaves of
the huge open sheds ; a smell of tar filled all
the air. To Alec, however, nothing was
dismal, nothing was depressing. All was new,
strange, and interesting. A few vessels of
light burden lay moored at the opposite side
of the narrow river ; a river steamer, her
day's work ended, was blowing off steam at
the Broomielaw.

f You will hardly believe it, Cameron,' said
Alec, gazing with all his eyes at these
commonplace sights, i but I never saw a ship
or a steamer before.'

' Hoots, man/ replied his companion ; ' I've
been on the salt water ever since I can re-
member ; but then, till I came here three
years sin', I had never seen a railway train —
I used to spend hours at one of the stations
watching them — and, what is more, I had
never seen a tree.'

' Never seen a tree !'

f No ; they won't grow in some of the
islands, you know, at least not above five

THE SHIP SETS SAIL. 97

or six feet high. But there's the Dunolhj
Castle.'

There lay the good vessel which had so lately
ploughed the waters of the Outer Hebrides, a
captive now, bound fast by stem and stern.

Cameron jumped on board, and soon re-
appeared dragging a full sack behind him,
while a seaman followed with a heavy wooden
box on his shoulder, and a big earthenware
jar in his left hand. Several porters with
big two-wheeled barrows now proffered their
services. Cameron selected one, and having
loaded the barrow with a sack of oatmeal, a
small barrel of salt herrings, two great jars
which Alec rightly conjectured to contain
whisky, and the wooden box, he proceeded to
pilot the porter to Hanover Street.

' Tak' care o' the jaurs !' he cried out in
some alarm, as the porter knocked his barrow
agaiDst a corner. ' They're just the maist
precious bit o' the haill cargo ; and if ye
preak ane o' them, she'll preak your heid, as
I'm a leefin' man f

vol. 1. 7

98 THE LINDSA VS.

' Why do you bring your provisions instead
of buying them here ? Is it any cheaper V
asked Alec.

' Cheaper ! Fat the teil do I care for the
cheapness ? I prefer my own whisky, and
my own oatmeal, I tell you ; it is better
than any you can buy here,' answered the
proud and irate Highlandman.

But when Alec and he were better ac-
quainted, he acknowledged that the oatmeal
and whisky were presented to him by relatives,
as aids to the difficult task of living for six
months on twenty pounds.

Next morning Alec woke to a blinding,
acrid, yellow fog, which the gaslight faintly
illumined. It was still dark when he emerged
into the street and took his way to the College,
with a copy of one of Cicero's orations and a
note-book under his arm. As he reached his
destination the clock struck eight, and im-
mediately a bell began to tinkle in quick,
sharp, imperative tones.

The junior Latin class, he found, met in

THE SHIP SETS SAIL. 99

the centre of a long narrow hall, lit by a
few gas-jets flaring here and there. On both
sides of the hall were tall windows, outside
of which was the yellow cloud of fog. There
was no stove or heating apparatus whatever.
A raised bench ran along one side of the long
room, and there were black empty galleries
at either end. In the centre stood a pulpit,
raised about two feet above the floor, and in
this the Professor was already standing.

About two hundred men and boys were
seated in the benches nearest the pulpit,
some wearing the regulation red gown, and
some without it, while beyond them the black
empty benches stretched away to the farther
end of the hall, which lay in complete dark-
ness.

All was stillness, but for the tinkling of
the bell. Suddenly it stopped, and that
instant a janitor banged the door, shutting
out late comers inexorably.

Everybody stood up, while the Professor
repeated a collect and the Lord's Prayer in

7—2

ioo THE LIXDSA VS.

English. Then he began to call the roll in
Latin, and as each student answered ' Adsum !'
he was assigned a place on one of the benches,
which was to be his for the rest of the session.
Alec's place was between a stout little fellow
of sixteen, son of a wealthy Glasgow merchant,
and a pale overworked teacher, who had set
his heart on being able to write ' M.A.' after
his name.

The work of the class then began. The
Professor gave a short explanation of the
circumstances under which the oration which
he had selected was made. He read and
translated a few lines, explaining the various
allusions, the nature of a Eoman trial, and
the meaning of the word ' judices.' He then,
by way of illustrating the method of teach-
ing, called on one of the students to construe
a few lines, and proceeded to ask all sorts of
questions, historical and philological, passing
the questions from man to man and from
bench to bench. He then prescribed a piece
of English to be turned into Latin prose.

THE SHIP SETS SAIL. 101

Before he had ceased speaking the clock
struck ; the bell began to ring ; the Professor
finished his sentence and shut his book. The
lecture was at an end.

The next hour Alec spent chiefly in wander-
ing round the College Green, a kind of
neglected park thinly populated with soot-
encrusted trees, which lay at the rear of the
College buildings. At ten o'clock the junior
Greek class met ; and Alec entered a small
room crammed with students, who were
sitting on narrow, crescent - shaped benches
raised one behind the other, aud fronting a
semicircular platform at the lower end of
the room. The book-boards, Alec noticed,
were extremely narrow, and neatly bound
with iron. The procedure here was much
the same as it had been in the Latin class,
except that there were no prayers, the
devotions being confined to the classes which
happened to meet earliest in the day.

At eleven there was another hour of Latin,
Virgil being the text-book this time ; and then

102 THE LINDSA VS.

lectures were over for the day, so far as Alec
was concerned.

All day long the committee -rooms of the
rival Conservative and Liberal Associations
were filled with men, consulting, smoking,
enrolling pledges, and inditing ' squibs ' and
manifestoes ; and as a Liberal meeting in sup-
port of Mr. Sharpe was to be held that evening
in the Greek class-room, Alec determined to
be present, hoping to hear some arguments
which might help him to decide how he ought
to vote on this momentous occasion.

In this expectation, however, he was dis-
appointed. Before he came in sight of the
lighted-up windows of the class-room he heard
a roar of singing — the factions were uniting
their powers to render a stanza of ' The Good
Khine Wine ' with proper emphasis. The
place was packed as full as it would hold, the
Professor's platform being held by the com-
mittee-men of the Liberal Association. As
soon as the song was ended, a small man in
spectacles was voted into the chair. He

THE SHIP SETS SAIL. 103

opened the proceedings by calling upon a Mr.
Macfarlane to move the first resolution, and
(like a wise man) immediately sat down.

Mr. Macfarlane, a young man of great size
with a throat of brass, was not popular. Cries
of ' Sit down, sir !' 'Go home, sir !' ' Speak
up, sir !' were mingled with volleys of peas,
Kentish fire, cheers for Lord Dummieden, and
the usual noises of a noisy meeting.

The little man in spectacles got up, and,
speaking in a purposely low voice, obtained a
hearing. He reminded his Conservative
friends that the Liberals had not spoiled the
Conservative meeting on the previous evening,
and said it was only fair that they should have
their turn. This was greeted with loud shouts
of ' Hear ! hear !' and Mr. Macfarlane began a
second time. But soon he managed to set his
audience in an uproar once more. His face
was fairly battered with peas. Men got up
and stood on the benches, then on the book-
boards. One fellow had brought a policeman's
rattle, with which he created a din so intolerable

io4 THE LINDSA VS.

that three or four others tried to deprive him
of it. One or two stout Conservatives came
to the rescue, and finally the whole group slid
off their narrow foot-hold on the book-boards,
and fell in a confused heap on the floor, amid
loud cheers from both parties.

After this episode order was restored, and a
fresh orator held the attention of the audience
for a few minutes. Unfortunately he stopped
for a moment, and the pause was immediately
filled by a student at the farther end of the
room blowing a shrill, pitiful blast on a child's
penny trumpet. The effect was comical enough ;
and everybody laughed. At that moment a
loud knock was heard at the door, which had
been locked, the room being already as full
as it could possibly hold. The knock was
repeated.

' I believe the perambulator has come for
the gentleman with the penny trumpet,' said
the chairman in gentle accents.

This sally was greeted with a Joud roar of
laughter ; and when it died away, comparative
silence reigned for five minutes.

THE SHIP SETS SAIL. 105

Then came more cheers, songs, and volleys
of peas ; and when everybody was hoarse the
meeting came to an end, the leading spirits
on both sides adjourning to their committee-
rooms, and afterwards to the hotels which
they usually patronized.

These meetings were continued for about
ten days, and then the vote was taken. The
four ' nations ' had each one vote. Two voted
for Mr. Sharpe, and two for Lord Dummieden.
And then the Chancellor, in accordance with
old established practice, gave his casting vote
in favour of the Conservative candidate.

It was over. The manifestoes and satirical
ballads were swept away ; and the twelve
hundred men and boys settled down to six
months' labour.

CHAPTER VI.

A NEW EXPERIENCE.

For the next six weeks Alec Lindsay's life
was one unvarying round of lectures, and
preparation for lectures. For recreation he
had football on the College Green, long walks
on Saturday afternoons, and long debates
with his friend Cameron. The debates,
however, were not very frequent, for the
Highlander was working twelve hours a
day.

1 1 mean to get a first-class in surgery,'
he said to Alec one Saturday night, as the
two sat over their pipes in Alec's sitting-
room ; ' and then perhaps the Professor will
ask me to be an assistant. If he does, my
fortune is made, for I know my work.'

A NEW EXPERIENCE. 107

'Ay, that's the great thing,' said Alec
absently. l Don't you ever go to church,
Cameron V he added abruptly.

1 As seldom as I can/ said the other, with a
side look at his companion ; ' but don't take
me for a guide.'

' I can't help it,' replied the lad, still gazing
into the fire ; ' we all take our neighbours for
guides, whether we acknowledge it or not.'

' More or less, no doubt'

' Don't you think one ought to go to
church V

' How can I tell ? Every man for himself,
my lad.'

' That won't do,' answered Alec, rousing
himself and facing his friend ; ' right's right,
and wrong's wrong ; what is right for one
man must be right for every man — under
the same circumstances, I mean.'

1 Will you just tell me,' said Cameron, half
defiantly, ' what good going to church can do
me ? I know the psalms almost by heart, and
I know the chapters the minister reads almost

108 THE LINDSA YS.

as well. As for the prayers, half of them
aren't prayers at all, and the other half I
could say as weel at hame, if I had a mind.
And the sermons ! — man, Alec, ye canna say
ye think they can do good to any living
creature.'

' Some of them, perhaps.'

' When I find a minister that doesna tell us
the same thing over, and over, and over again,
and use fifty words to say what might be said
in five, to spin out the time, 111 reconsider the
pint,' said Cameron.

' But you believe there's a God,' said
Alec.

' That's a lang stap furret,' said the other.

' But do you V

1 Well, I do, and I dinna. I don't believe
in the Free Kirk God. It's hard to think
this warl could mak' itsel' : but I hae my
doots.'

' Then you're an Agnostic ?'

' What if I am ? Are ye scunnered V*

* Disgusted.

A NEW EXPERIENCE. 109

' No — and yet '

' Or what if I should tell you I have chosen
some other religion 1 Why should I be a
Presbyterian ? Because I was born in Scot-
land. That's the only reason I've been able
to think of, and it doesn't seem to me to be
up to much.'

Alec was secretly shocked, though he thought
it more manly not to show it.

' I believe in the Bible,' he said at last.

' That doesna help you much,' said Cameron,
with some contempt. ' Baptists, Independents,
Episcopalians, the very Papists themsel's, and
thae half-heathen Russians, wad tell ye that
they believe in the Bible. Ye micht as weel
tell a judge, when he ca'ed on you for an
argument, that ye believe in an Act o' Parlia-
ment.'

' Hae ye an aitlas V he continued after a
pause. ' Here's one.'

He turned to a ' M creator's projection' at
the beginning of the volume, and scratched
the spot which represented Scotland with his

no THE LINDSAYS.

pencil. He then slightly shaded England, the
United States, and Holland, and put in a few-
dots in Germany and Switzerland.

' There !' he said, as he pushed the map
across the table ; ' that's your Presbyterian
notion o' Christendom. There's a glimmerin'
in England and the States, but only in bonny
Scotland does the true licht shine full and
fair. As for Germany, Holland, an' Switz-
erland, they're unco dry, do tae say deid
branches. The rest o' mankind — total dark-
ness !'

' But you might have said the same thing
of Christianity itself at one time, and of every
religion in the world, for that matter,' protested
Alec.

' Nae doot,' retorted Cameron, ' but that
was at the beginning. This is Christianity,
according to the gospel o' John Knox and
Company after nineteen centuries ! A poor
show for nineteen hunder' years — a mighty
poor show !'

He got up as he spoke, and knocking the

A NEW EXPERIENCE. 1 1 1

ashes out of his pipe, prepared to move to his
own quarters.

' Let's change the subject,' said Alec. ' Here's
a letter I got this morning, and I don't know
how to answer it.'

1 What's this V said the older man, taking
the thick sheet of paper between the tips of
his fingers. ' " Mr. James Lindsay presents his
compliments to Mr. Alexander Lindsay, and
requests the pleasure of his company at dinner
on Tuesday the 27th inst., at Jialf-past six.
Blythswood Square, December, 187- " Is
this old James Lindsay o' Drumleck ?'

< Yes.'

1 Are you a connection of his V

1 Grand-nephew.'

' And why can't you answer the note V

' I don't want to go. I haven't been brought
up to this sort of thing, and I don't care to go
out of my way to make myself ridiculous in a
rich man's house. Besides, I don't want to go
to the expense of a suit of dress clothes. And
then, my uncle and I were not particularly

ii2 THE LINDSAYS.

smitten with each other when I saw him
last.'

1 Don't be a fool, Alec,' said Cameron
quietly. ' You can't afford to throw away
the friendship of a man worth twenty thousand
a year.'

' That phrase always reminds me,' remarked
Alec, ' of what one of the Erskines — I don't
remember which of them it was — once said,
when some one said in his company that so-
and-so had died worth three hundred thousand
pounds — " Did he indeed, sir ? And a very
pretty sum, too, to begin the next world
with." '

Cameron smiled grimly.

' You'll have to go, Alec,' he repeated ; ' and
you needn't be afraid of appearing ridiculous.
Do as you see others do, and keep a lown sail ;
better seem blate than impident.'

1 My father would be in a fine way if he
heard that my uncle had invited me, and that
I had refused the invitation,' said Lindsay.

' And quite right too,' rejoined Cameron.

A NEW EXPERIENCE. 1 1 3

1 Besides, Alec, the old man is your father's
uncle, and you ought to show him some
respect.'

• That wasn't the reason you put in the fore-
front,' said Alec slyly.

For reply Cameron, who had reached the
door, picked up a Greek grammar, flung it at
his friend's head as he muttered something in
Gaelic, and banging the door behind him,
ascended to his own domicile.

Exactly at the appointed hour Alec pre-
sented himself at his grand-uncle's house in
Blythswood Square. The square had once been
fashionable, and was still something more than
respectable, because the houses were too large
to be inhabited by people of moderate means ;
but the situation was dull and gloomy to the
last degree. Within, however, there was a
very different scene. Entrance-hall, staircase,
drawing-room, were all as brilliant as gas-jets
could make them. The walls, even of the
passages, were lined with pictures, good, bad,
and indifferent. Every landing, every corner,
vol. 1. 8

1 1 4 THE LINDSA VS.

held a statue, or at least a statuette, or a bust
upon a pedestal.

When Alec was ushered into the drawing-
room, he could hardly see for the blaze of
light ; he could hardly move for little tables
laden with china, ormolu, and bronzes. For-
tunately, Sir Peter and Lady Colquhoun were
entering the reception-room just as Alec
reached it, so that he made his entrance in
their wake, and, as it were, under their lee.

The room was already pretty well filled, and
more guests were continually arriving. On
the hearth-rug stood a little old man, with a
mean, inexpressive face, scanty hair which
was still gray, thin gray whiskers, small eyes,
and a fussy consequential air. When he
spoke, it was in a high-pitched, rasping voice ;
and he invariably gave one the impression
that he was insisting upon being noticed and
attended to.

This was Mr. Lindsay of Drumleck. He
stared at Alec for an instant, then gave him
his hand in silence, and, without addressing a

A NEW EXPERIENCE. 115

word to him, continued his conversation with
the Lord Provost's wife. Alec's face flushed.
His first impulse was to walk out of the room,
and out of the house ; but on second thoughts
he saw that that course would not even be
dignified. He retreated to a corner, and set
himself to watch the company.

For the most part they sat nearly silent —
fat baillies and their well-nourished wives
— hard-featured damsels of thirty or forty
summers, in high-necked dresses and Brussels
lace collars — one or two stout ministers — such
was the assembly. Alec was astonished. He
had expected, somehow, that he should meet
people of a different type.

' Take one or two dozen people from behind
the shop-counters in Argyle Street,' he said to
himself (with boyish contempt for the dis-
appointing), or even a few Muirburn plough-
men and weavers, give them plenty of money,
and in three weeks they would be quite as fine
ladies and gentlemen as any I see here.'

As the thought passed through the boy's

8—2

1 1 6 THE LINDSA YS.

mind, the door was thrown open, and the
names of ' Professor Taylor and Miss Mow-
bray ' were announced. A tall, lean man,
with long hair and crumpled old-fashioned
garments, entered, and beside him walked a
young lady with her eyes on the ground.

She was dressed in a cream-coloured
costume, with just a fleck of colour here and
there. She was indeed remarkably pretty,
and possessed a soft, childlike grace which was
more captivating than beauty alone would
have been. She had a small, well-rounded
figure — a little more and it would have been
plump — abundant dark-brown hair, and a soft,
peach-like complexion. Her eyelashes were
unusually long ; and when, reaching her host,
she half-timidly raised her eyes to his, Alec
(who was sitting in the background) felt a
little thrill of pleasure at the mere sight of
their dark loveliness.

She was the first lady, the first young lady,
at least, whom he had seen, and he looked at
her as if she were a being to be worshipped.

A NEW EXPERIENCE. 1 1 7

But Laura Mowbray was indeed pretty enough
to have turned the head of a more experienced
person than the laird's son.

Professor Taylor and his niece moved to
one side ; her dress almost brushed against
Alec. She glanced at him for an instant ;
without intending it he dropped his eyes, and
the girl ]ooked in another direction with a
little inward smile.

In three or four minutes dinner was an-
nounced, and Laura fell to the care of James
Semple (the cousin who had taken Alec's
place at the oil- works), who had just come in.
There were more men than women in the
party, and Alec and one or two of the less
wealthy guests were left to find their way into
the dining-room by themselves at the end of
the procession. Fortune, however, favoured
Alec. When he took his seat, he found that
he was sitting between a pale, inoffensive-
looking youth and — Laura Mowbray.

He literally did not dare to look at her,
much less to address her ; he was not sure,

1 1 8 THE LINDSA VS.

indeed, whether the rules of society allowed
him to do so in the absence of an introduc-
tion. In a little time, however, his shyness
wore off ; he watched his opportunity ; but
before he found one, his neighbour remarked
in her soft English accent, and in the sweetest
of tones :

' What dreadful fogs you have in Glasgow !'
Alec made some reply, and the ice once
broken, he made rapid progress.

' Everybody I meet seems to be related to
somebody else, or connected with some one I
have met before,' said Miss Mowbray. ' You
have all so many relations in this part of the
country, and you seem never to forget any
of them. In London it is different. People
seldom know their next-door neighbours; and
it is just a chance whether they keep up
cousinships, and so on, or not.'

' Eeally ? I think that is very unnatural.'
' Oh ! so unnatural ! Life in London is so
dreadfully conventional and superficial. Don't
you think so V

A NEW EXPERIENCE. 119

' I dare say ; but I have never been in
London.'

' Have you, Mr. Semple V she asked of the
gentleman on her left.

1 No, I haven't,' he answered shortly.

He did not approve of Miss Mowbray pay-
ing any attention to Alec, regarding her as
for the time being his property. On this
Laura left off talking to Alec, and devoted
herself to the amusement of Mr. Semple.

Soon, however, she took advantage of his
attention being claimed by the lady on his
left, to turn again with a smile to Alec.

' Mr. Semple tells me you are at College.
My uncle is a professor there, but he has
hardly any students, because history is not a
compulsory subject in the examinations. How
do you like being at College V

Alec was grateful for her interest in him,
and gave her his impressions of College life.
Then she turned once more to her legiti-
mate entertainer, who was by that time at
liberty.

120 THE LINDSA VS.

Alec had already had far more intercourse
with his lovely neighbour than he had dared
to hope for ; but the dinner was a long one ;
and as Mr. Semple's left-hand neighbour
happened to be a maiden aunt with money,
she was able to compel his attention once
more before the close of the meal.

' You live in a beautiful part of the country,
I believe,' Miss Mowbray remarked to Alec.

' I don't know ; I like it, of course ; but I
don't know that it is finer than any country
with wood and a river.'

' Oh, you have a river ? I am so passion-
ately fond of river scenery.'

' Yes, and we have a castle,' replied Alec ;
and before the ladies rose he had described
not only the castle, but the moorland and the
romantic dell which was his sister's favour-
ite retreat, to his much -interested neigh-
bour.

When at length the ladies followed Miss
Lindsay — a distant relation who superintended
Mr. Lindsay's establishment — out of the room,

A NEW EXPERIENCE. 121

Alec felt as if the evening had suddenly come
to an end.

Semple, who had vouchsafed him rather a
cool nod in the evening, tried in vain to
make him talk.

1 How do you like College V

' Pretty well.'

' Dreadful underbred set. Why don't you
go to Oxford V

Alec made no reply.

1 Or Edinburgh — they are a much better
class of men at Edinburgh, I'm told.'

And Mr. Semple turned away to join a
conversation about 'warrants,' and 'premiums/
and ' vendor's shares,' ' corners,' ' contangos,'
and ' quotations,' which to Alec was simply
unintelligible.

At the other end of the table a conversation
of another character was in progress — one
hardly less interesting to those who took
part in it, and hardly more interesting to an
outsider. It seemed that a wealthy congre-
gation of United Presbyterians had built

122 THE LINDSA VS.

themselves an organ at considerable expense,
without obtaining the sanction of their co-
religionists ; and an edict had gone forth that
the organ must be silent on Sundavs, but
might be used for the delectation of those
who attended the prayer-meeting on Wednes-
day evenings.

* I look upon it as the thin end of the
wedge,' said the Eeverend Hector Mac-
Tavish, D.D., striking bis fist on his knee.
' You begin with hymns, many of them wish-
washy trash, some of them positively un-
scriptural. Then you must have a choir for
the tunes, as if the old-fashioned long metre
and common metre were not good enough ;
then comes an organ ; then the Lord's Prayer
is used as a part of the ritual — mark you, as
a part of the ritual — I have no objection to
the Lord's Prayer when it is not used on
formal, stated occasions. After that, you
have a liturgy.'

'No, no, Doctor; you are going too fast,'
murmured one of the audience.

A NEW EXPERIENCE. 123

' And I maintain that with a liturgy there
is an end to the distinctively Presbyterian
form of worship.'

' But where would you draw the line V
inquired a mild, sallow-faced young man who
had imbibed his theological opinions at Heidel-
berg, and was in consequence suspected of
latitudinarianism, if not of actual heresy.

4 Where our fathers drew it, at the Psalms
of Tavid !' thundered Mr. MacTavish, striking
his unoffending knee once more.

' Then I fear you render Union impossible,'
said the young minister.

1 And what if I do, sir ¥ said Dr. Mac-
Tavish loftily ; ' in my opinion we Free
Churchmen are ferry well as we are, and
need no new lights to illuminate us.'

The young man received the covert sneer
at his German training and his liberal ideas
with a smile ; and Alec listened no longer,
but relapsed into dreamland. The dispute,
however, continued long after most of the
men had returned to the drawing-room, and

1 24 THE LINDSA VS.

Alec rose from his chair while an animated
discussion was in progress on the point whether
the use of an organ was favourable to spiritual
worship or tended to sensuousness, and whethei
the fact that the New Testament was silent
on the subject, condemned the organ and its
followers by anticipation.

When Alec entered the drawing-room, Miss
Mowbray was singing. He retreated to a
corner and stood as one spell-bound. He
watched for an opportunity of speaking to
her again, but there was none ; however, on
passing him on her way to the door on her
uncle's arm, she gave him a little bow and
smile, which he regarded as another proof of
her sweetness of disposition.

The theologians had not finished their
disputations, and were continuing them in a
corner of the drawing-room, when Alec took
his departure.

He walked back to his poor and empty
room with his head among the stars. She
had talked with him, smiled upon him, treated

A NEW EXPERIENCE. 125

him as an equal. He would find out where
she lived, and contrive to meet her again.
How lovely she was, how sweet, how pure,
how good ! The wide earth, Alec Lindsay
was firmly convinced, contained no mortal
fit for one moment to be compared with the
girl whose soft brown eyes and gentle, almost
appealing, looks still made his heart beat as
he remembered them.

CHAPTER VII.

A SUNDAY IN GLASGOW.

' Well, Alec, how did you get on last night ¥
asked Duncan Cameron of his friend, when
they met as usual the day after the dinner at
Blythswood Square.

' Oh, all right. It was rather a stupid
affair. '

' Eather stupid — not quite worth the trouble
of attending ? And yet you were half afraid
of going ! Don't deny it.'

' I said it was stupid ; and so it was,' said
Alec, reddening. ' Nobody said anything
worth listening to, so far as I heard/

' That means nobody took much notice of
you, eh V

1 What an ill-conditioned, sneering fellow

A SUNDA V IN GLASGO W. 127

you are, Cameron,' replied Alec tranquilly.
1 You'll never get on in the world unless you
learn to be civil.'

1 It isn't worth my while to be civil to you/
said Cameron. ; Wait till I'm in practice and
have to flatter and humour rich old women.
What did your uncle say to you V

1 Hardly anything — just a word or two, as I
was coming away.'

' You ought to cultivate him, Alec'

' 1 wish you wouldn't speak like that,
Duncan,' said Alec roughly. ' Do you think
I'm the sort of fellow to flatter and fawn upon
an old man I don't like, simply because he is
rich ?'

1 There's no need for flattering and fawning,'
replied Cameron ; ' but you've no right to
throw away such a chance at the very outset
of your life.'

1 Do you think, then, that it's manly or
honourable to visit a man as it were out of
pure friendship, when your only object is to
make him useful to you V

128 THE LINDSAYS.

' There's no question of friendship, ye gowk ;
he's your relation, and the head of your house.
It's your duty to pay him your respects
occasionally.'

1 Paying my respects wouldn't be of much
use,' retorted Alec. ' You're shirking the
question. Is it honourable to — I don't know
the right word — to try to ingratiate yourself
with anyone in the hope of getting something
out of him V

1 Why not V

' It's not honourable ; and I would not
respect myself if I were to do such a thing,'
said Alec, with much dignity.

Cameron laughed inwardly, but he made no
response, and there was silence for a few
minutes between the two friends. The older
man was thinking how absurd the boy was,
and how a little experience of life would rub
off his ' high-fantastical ' notions. Then he
wished that he had a grand-uncle who was a
millionnaire. And then he fell to wondering
whether, on the whole, it was best to despise

A SUNDA Y IN GLASGOW. 129

wealth, as Alec Lindsay did, or to acquire
it.

' I suppose it is too late now to take another
class V said Alec, half absently.

1 1 should think so,' responded his friend.
' What class did you think of taking ? Mathe-
matics V

'No; History.'

1 History ! That isn't wanted for a degree.
What put that into your head V

1 Oh, I don't know. I only thought of
it/

Cameron did not know that the learned
Professor of History had a niece named Laura
Mowbray.

That evening about ten o'clock, when the
medical student went down to his friend's
room, as was his custom at that hour, he found
Alec poring over some papers, which he pushed
aside as Cameron entered.

' Come in,' he cried, as the other paused in
the doorway. 'I'm not working.'

The Highlander took up his usual position,

vol. 1. 9

i3o THE LINDSAYS.

standing on the hearth-rug with his back
to the fire, and proceeded to light his
pipe.

' They tell me you're doing very well in
the Latin class — sure of a prize, if you keep
on as you're doing,' he said, after smoking
for a minute in silence.

' Oh, it's no use ; I can't do Latin prose/
answered Alec discontentedly. ' How can I ?
I've never had any practice. Just look at
this — my last exercise — no frightful blunders,
but, as the Professor said, full of inelegancies ;'
and he handed his friend a sheet of paper
from his table as he spoke.

Cameron took the paper, and regarded it
through a cloud of smoke.

' What's this V he exclaimed. ' Poetry, as
I'm a livin' Heelandman ! Just listen !' and
he waved his hand, as if addressing an
imaginary audience.

Alec's face burned, as he rose and hastily
snatched the paper from his friend's grasp.
Cameron would have carried his bantering

A SUNDA V IN GLASGOW. 13 1

further, but he saw that in the lad's face
which restrained him.

' Already !' he muttered, as he turned away
to hide his laughter.

' Are you going home for the New Year V
asked Alec, when his embarrassment had sub-
sided.

1 Me % No ! We have only a week's
vacation, or ten days at most. The Dunolly
Castle sails only once a week in winter ; and
if the sailings didn't suit, I should have hardly
time to go there before I had to come away
again. And if a storm came on I should be
weather-bound, and might not get south for
another week.'

' It must be very dreary in the north in
winter,' said Alec.

1 Ay — but you must come and see for your-
self some day.'

Alec was silent ; he was thinking that he
should like to ask his friend to spend the
vacation week with him at the Castle Farm ;

9—2

1 32 THE LINDSA VS.

but he did not care to take the responsibility
of giving the invitation.

The following Sunday was one of those
dismal days which are common in the west of
Scotland during the winter months. It was
nearly cold enough for snow, but instead of snow
a continuous drizzle fell slowly throughout the
day. There was no fog ; but in the streets of
Glasgow it was dark soon after midday.

Alec Lindsay went to church in the fore-
noon as usual ; then he came home and ate
a cold dinner which would have been very
trying to any appetite less robust than that
of a young Scotchman.

Finding that he had a few minutes to spare
before setting out for the afternoon service
(which takes the place of an evening service in
England), he ran upstairs to his friend's room.

1 1 wish you would come to church with me,
Duncan/ he said, as he seated himself on the
medical student's trunk.

The invitation implied a reproach ; but
Cameron was not offended at this interference

A SUNDA Y IN GLASGO W. 133

with his private concerns. In the north a
man who ' neglects ordinances ' is supposed to
lay himself open to the reproof of any better-
disposed person who assumes an interest in
his spiritual welfare. For reply he muttered
something in Gaelic, which Alec conjectured,
rightly enough, to be an exclamation too
improper to be said conveniently in English.

1 Fat can ye no leaf a man alone for V he
said aloud, reverting, as he did when he was
excited, to his strong Highland accent.

Alec said no more ; but Cameron, whose
conscience was not quite at rest, chose to
continue the subject.

'I go to the kirk when I'm at home,' he
said, ' an' that's enough. I go to please my
mother, an' keep folk from talking — but it's
weary work. I often ask myself what is the
good of it ? — the whole thing, I mean. There's
old Mr. Macfarlane, the parish minister of
Glenstruan — we went to live on the mainland
two years ago, you know. He's a decent man
— a ferry decent man. He ladles oot castor

i34 THE LINDSA YS.

oil an' cod -liver oil as occasion requires, to
the haill parish, an' the next ane tae, without
fee or reward. He's a great botanist, and
spends half his time in his gairden — grows a'
sorts o' fruit — even peaches, I've been told.
When the weather's suitable he gangs fishin'.
On Sabbath he has apoot forty folk in his big
barn o' a kirk. He talks tae them for an
oor, an' lets them gang. He's aye ready to
baptize a wean, or pray wi' a deein' botoch,*
but it's seldom he has the chance. I'm no
blamin' the man. It's no his faut that the
folk gaed ower bodily to the Free Kirk at the
Disruption, an' left him, a shepherd wi' ne'er
a flock, but a wheen auld rams, wha '

' But there's the Free Kirk,' interrupted
Alec, ' and it's your own kirk, I suppose.'

' No,' said Cameron. ' If anything, I belong
to the Establishment. Save me, is my daily
an' nichtly prayer, frae the bitter birr o' the
Dissenters.'

Alec laughed, and the other went on :

° Old man.

A SUNDA Y IN GLASGOW. 135

1 There's Maister MacPhairson, the Free
Kirk minister. He's a wee, soor, black-a-
vised crater, wi' a wife an' nine weans. Hoo
he manages to gie them parritch an' milk I
can not imagine. He's jist eaten up wi' envy
an' spite that the parish minister has the big
hoose, and he has the wee ane. He mak's his
sermons dooble as lang to let folk see that he
does a' the wark '

' A very good reason for not belonging to the
Free Church,' interposed Alec ; * but I don't see
what all this has got to do with the question.'

4 I'm only showing that the religious system
of this country is in a state of petrifaction,'
said Cameron, abandoning the Doric — l fossili-
zation, if you like it better. '

Alec laughed.

' A pretty proof,' he cried.

'Oh, of course, the state of religion in one
corner of the Hielans is only an illustration ;
but it's much the same everywhere. I don't
see, to put the thing plainly, that we should
be very much worse off without any kirks,

1 36 THE LINDSA VS.

and what we want with so many is a mystery
to me. What was the use of building a new
one in every parish at the Disruption, I should
like to know V

' You know as well as I do,' answered Alec.
' A great principle was at stake.'

1 " The sacred right o' the nowte* to chuse
their ain herd," as Burns puts it,' interposed
Cameron.

1 Not only that ; the question was whether
the Church should submit to interference on
the part of the State,' said Alec.

' And by way of showing that she never
would submit, she rent herself in twa, and one
half has spent the best part of her pith ever
since in keeping up the fight wi' the tither
half. What sense is there in that, can ye tell
me?'

* That's all very well,' said Alec, ' but it
seems to me that if a man finds a poor religion
around him, he ought to stick to it as well as
he can till he finds a better one.'

* Cattle.

A SUNDA Y IN GLASGOW. 137

1 There's sense in that, Alec/ said Cameron ;
1 and I'll no just say I've no had my en-
deavours to find a better.'

I Where can ye find a better V asked Alec,
shocked at this latitudinarianism.

I I didna say I had succeeded, did I ? But
I've tried. I went a good deal among
the Methodists in my first year at College. I
was wonderfully taken with them at first —
thought them just the very salt of the earth.
But in six months, I found they groaned and
cried " Amen " a little too often — for nothing
at all. Then, my next session, I wandered
about from one kirk to another, and then I
stayed still. Sometimes I've even gone to
the Catholics.'

' The Catholics !' exclaimed Alec, with
horror. If his friend had said that he had
occasionally joined in the rites of pagans, and
had witnessed human sacrifices, he could
hardly have shocked this son of the Cove-
nanters more seriously.

' Hoots, ay !' said the Highlander, with a

138 THE LINDSA VS.

half-affected carelessness. ' There's a lot o'
them in Glenstruan.'

' At home ? Tn the north V asked Alec, in
astonishment.

1 Yes ; in out-of-the-way corners there are
many Catholics. In some parishes there are
but few Protestants.'

' How did they come there V

1 They have always been there.'

It was news to Alec, Scotchman as he was,
that there are to this day little communities of
Catholics hidden among the mountains of Ross
and Inverness, living in glens so secluded that
one might almost fancy that the fierce storms
of the sixteenth century had never reached
them.

Wondering in his heart how it was possible
that even unlettered Highlanders should have
clung so long to degrading superstitions, Alec
descended from his friend's garret, and set off
alone for St. Simon's Free Church. The Free
Churchmen in the Scotch towns frequently
name their places of worship after the Apostles,

A SUNDA Y IN GLASGO W. 139

not with any idea of honouring the Apostles'
memory, but solely by way of keeping up a
healthful and stimulating rivalry with the
Establishment. Thus we have ' St. Paul's,'
and 'Free St. Paul's '— ' St. John's,' and 'Free
St. John's ' — and so forth.

Alec set out alone, and he felt very lonely
as he made his way over the sloppy pavements.
Among all these crowds of respectably-dressed
people, there was not one face he knew, not
the least possibility that anyone would give
him a greeting. He would much rather have
stayed at home over a pipe and a book, like
Duncan Cameron ; but his conscience would
have made him miserable for a month if he
had been guilty of such a crime. The jangling
of bells filled the murky air. Most places of
worship in Scotland have a bell, but very few
have more than one. There is, therefore, no
reason why each church should not have as
large and as loud a bell as is consistent with
the safety of the belfry.

In a short time Alec reached ' Free St.

140 THE LINDSA VS.

Simon's,' a building which outwardly re-
sembled an Egyptian temple on a small scale,
and inwardly a Methodist chapel on a large
scale. In all essential points the worship was
exactly a counterpart of that to which he had
always been accustomed at Muirburn ; but the
details were different. Here the passages were
covered with matting, and the pews were
carpeted and cushioned. Hassocks were also
provided, not for kneeling upon, but for the
greater comfort of the audience during the
sermon.

The tall windows on either side of the pulpit
were composed of painted glass. There were
no idolatrous representations in the windows ;
only geometrical figures — Alec knew their
number, and the colour of each one of them,
intimately.

At Free St. Simon's the modern habit of
standing during psalm-singing had been in-
troduced. The attitude to be observed at
prayer was as yet a moot question. Custom
varied upon the point. The older members

A SUNDA Y IN GLASGOW. 141

of the congregation stood up and severely
regarded their fellow-worshippers, who kept
their seats, propped their feet on their has-
socks, put their arms on the book-boards, and
leant their heads upon their arms. This
posture Alec found to be highly conducive to
slumber ; and he had much difficulty in keep-
ing awake, but he did not care to proclaim
himself one of the ' unco guid ' by rising to his
feet, and protesting in that way against the
modern laxity of manners.

The prayer was a very long one, but at last
it was over ; and then came a chapter read
from the Bible, another portion of a psalm,
and the sermon. The preacher was both a
good man and a learned one, but oratory was
not his strong point ; and if it had been, he
might well have been excused for making no
attempt to exert it at such a time and under
such circumstances. The text, Alec remem-
bered afterwards, was * One Lord, one Father
of all,' and the sermon was an elaborate
attempt to prove that the Creator was in no

142 THE LINDSA VS.

proper sense the ' Father ' of all men, but of
the elect only. The young student listened
for a time, and then fell to castle-building,
an occupation of which he was perilously
fond.

When the regulation hour-and-a-half had
come to a close, the congregation was dis-
missed ; and Alec Lindsay went back to his
lodgings, weary, depressed, and discontented.
After tea there was absolutely nothing for him
to do. He did not feel inclined to read a
religious book ; and recreations of any kind
were absolutely forbidden by the religion in
which he had been brought up. After an
hour spent in idling about his room, he set
out to find a church at which there was even-
ing service, thinking that to hear another
sermon would be less wearisome than solitude.

Wandering through the streets, which at
that hour were almost deserted, he at last
heard a church bell begin to ring, and follow-
ing the sound he came to a stone building,
surmounted by a belfry. After a little hesi-

A SUNDAY IN GLASGOW. 143

tation, Alec Lindsay entered, and was con-
ducted by the pew-opener to a seat. The
area of the building was filled with very high-
backed pews, set close together, and a large
gallery ran round three of the walls ; but the
chapel was evidently not a Presbyterian place
of worship, for on either side of the lofty
pulpit was a reading-desk, nearly as high as
the pulpit itself.

Presently the bell stopped, and an organ
placed in the gallery opposite the pulpit began
to sound. Then a clergyman in white surplice
and black stole ascended to the reading-desk
on the right of the central pulpit, and Alec
Lindsay knew that he was, for the first time
in his life, in an i Episcopal ' chapel.

The service was conducted in the plainest
manner possible. The psalms were read, the
canticles alone being chanted ; and the clergy-
man, as he read the prayers, faced the congre-
gation. The hymns were of a pronounced
Evangelical type, and the sternest Calvinist
could have found no fault with the sermon.

144 THE LINDSA VS.

But to Alec all was so entirely new and
strange that he sometimes found it difficult to
remember that he was supposed to be engaged
in worship.

The prayers were over, and the sermon had
begun, when Alec noticed, at some little dis-
tance, a face, the sight of which made his
hand tremble and his heart beat. It was
Laura Mowbray. She was sitting alone in
her corner, her only companion being a maid-
servant, who sat at the door of the pew. Her
profile was turned towards Alec, its clear white
outline showing against the dark panelling
behind her. Almost afraid to look in her
direction, for fear of attracting her attention,
or of allowing those sitting near him to guess
what was passing in his mind, he took only a
glance now and then at the object of his wor-
ship. It was worship, rather than love, with
Alec Lindsay. Courtship, and marriage, and
the practical considerations which these things
entail, never entered the boy's mind. He had
seen his ideal of beauty, of refinement, of

A SUNDA Y IN GLASGO W. 145

feminine grace ; and he was content, for the
present at least, to worship her at a distance,
himself unseen.

When the service was over, he left the
chapel, and placed himself at an angle outside
the gateway, where he could see her as she
passed out. He recognised her figure as soon
as it appeared, but to his great disappointment
her face was turned from him. By chance,
however, she looked back to see if the maid
were following her, and for one instant he had
a full view of her face. It was enough, and
without a thought of accosting her, Alec went
home satisfied.

vol. 1. 10

CHAPTER VIII.

THE ROARING GAME.

When the Christmas holidays drew near, Alec
obtained his father's permission to ask his
friend, Duncan Cameron, to spend a week at
the Castle Farm ; and, after a little hesitation,
Cameron accepted the proposal.

' There's just one thing, Duncan, I would
like you to mind,' said Alec, as they drew
near the farm ; ' my father's an old man, and
he doesn't like to be contradicted. More than
that, he doesn't care to hear anyone express
opinions contrary to his own, at least on two
subjects — politics and religion. If you can't
agree with him on these points, and I dare say
you won't, hold your tongue, like a good fellow.

THE ROARING GAME. 147

And my sister — you'd better keep off religion
in her case too.'

* Why didn't you tell me this before V was
Cameron's inward thought ; but he only said
he would of course be careful not to wound
the old gentleman's susceptibilities.

Mr. Lindsay received his guest with a
hearty welcome — it was not one of his faults
to fail in hospitality — indeed, a stranger might
have thought that he was better pleased to
see his guest than his son. He led the wray
through the great stone-floored kitchen to the
parlour, where an enormous fire of coals was
blazing, and where the evening meal was
already laid out on the snowy table-cloth.

1 You had better warm your hands before
going upstairs,' he said to Duncan. ' You
must have had a very cold drive. Margaret !'
he called out, finding that his daughter was
not in the sitting-room. ' Margaret ! where
are you ? Gome away at once.'

In his eyes Margaret was a child still. He
was a little annoyed that she should have

10—2

148 THE LINDSA VS.

been out of the way, and not in her place,
ready to welcome the guest.

Margaret, however, had taken her stand in
the dairy, which was on the opposite side of
the passage from the kitchen. She wanted to
greet her brother in her own way. And Alec,
as soon as he saw that she was not with his
father, knew where she was. The dairy had
been a favourite refuge in their childish days.
It was a little out of the way, and seldom
visited, while it commanded a way of retreat
through the cheese-house.

As soon as his father had taken charge of
Cameron, Alec hurried back through the
kitchen, ran along the passage, opened the
dairy-door, and there, sure enough, was Mar-
garet.

' Maggie !' he cried ; and the two were fast
locked in each other's embrace.

It was but eight weeks since they had
parted ; but they had never been separated
before.

For a moment neither spoke.

THE ROARING GAME. 149

' What made you come here, Maggie V
asked Alec, with boyish inconsiderateness.

' I came for the cream for tea,' said Mar-
garet.

' Oh, Maggie !'

' I did indeed. Go and get me a light.
Oh, Alec ! it has been so lonely without
you !'

She kissed him again, and pushed him out
of the dairy. Then she burst into tears. He
was not so glad to see her as she had been to
see him. He wras changed ; she knew he was
changed, though she had not really seen him.
He was going to be a man, to grow beyond
her. to forget, perhaps to despise her. Why
had he asked why she had come there ?
Surely he might have

At this point in Margaret's reflections, Alec
returned with a candle, and seeing the traces
of tears on his sister's cheeks, he turned and
gave her another hug. She tenderly returned
the caress ; but her first words were :

' Why did you bring a stranger home with

150 7 HE LINDSAYS.

you, Alec ? And we are to be together such a
short time, too !'

' Oh, nonsense, Maggie ! Cameron is a great
friend of mine, and you'll like him, I'm sure.
But there's father calling ; we must go.'

Mr. Lindsay had divined what his daughter
had been doing ; but he thought it was now
quite time that she should come forward and
play her part as hostess.

1 You go first, Alec,' she said, taking up the
cream-jug which she had brought as her excuse
for her visit to the dairy.

' And I tell you, sir, that till we have the
ballot we can have no security against persecu-
tion,' Mr. Lindsay was exclaiming, as they
entered the sitting-room. ' A man cannot
vote now according to his conscience unless he
is prepared to risk being driven from his
home, to lose his very livelihood. Let me
give you an instance '

But here Margaret came forward, calm and
serene as usual. Cameron rose to meet her ;
and the political harangue was cut short by

THE ROARING GAME. 151

the appearance of a stout damsel with cheeks
like peonies, bearing an enormous silver
teapot.

Cameron was struck by Margaret Lindsay's
beauty, as everyone was who saw her ; but
the effect was to render him shy and ill
at ease. He felt inferior to her ; and the
calm indifference of her manner made him
fancy that she treated him with disdain. Mr.
Lindsay did most of the talking ; Cameron,
mindful of his friend's warning, sat almost
dumb, totally unlike his usual self. Alec
began to think that he had made a mistake in
inviting him to the Castle Farm.

As it happened, a keen frost had set in some
days before, and farm operations were at a
standstill. Margaret was busy next morning
in superintending matters in the dairy and the
kitchen ; but the three men had nothing to
do. Mr. Lindsay fastened on his guest, and
extracted from him a full and particular
account of the state of agriculture and of
religion in the island of Scalpa and the

152 THE LINDSA VS.

neighbouring mainland before the one o'clock
dinner.

In the evening, however, there was a pro-
mise of a little break in the monotony of life
at the farm. A message was brought to Alec
enjoining him to be at ' The Lang Loch ' by
half-past nine next morning, and take part in
a curling-match between the Muirburn parish
and the players of the neighbouring parish of
Auchinbyres.

1 You can't possibly go, Alec,' said the
laird, when the message was delivered ; ' Mr.
Cameron won't care to hang about here alone
all day.'

Mr. Lindsay was secretly proud of his son's
reputation as a curler ; but he did not wish
him to go to the match, because he did not
care that he should be exposed to the con-
taminating influences of a very mixed company,
and he did not relish the prospect of Alec's
carrying awTay his friend and leaving him
alone for the day. But when Duncan heard
of the match he declared that he must see it

THE ROARING GAME. 153

— there was hardly ever any frost worth
speaking of in the Hebrides ; and he had
never seen a curling-match.

'You'll want the dog-cart to take your
stones to the loch, Alec,' said Mr. Lindsay.
' I think I will go with you, and go on to
Netherburn about those tiles.'

' I wish you would come with us, Maggie/
said Alec. ' Father will be passing the loch
on his way back in half an hour, and he can
pick you up and bring you home. The drive
will do you good.'

To this arrangement Margaret consented,
and early next morning the little party set
out in the keen wintry air. The sun, not
long risen, was making the snow sparkle on
the fields, and turning the desolate scene into
fairyland.

After an hour's drive they arrived at the
scene of the match — a sheet of water, on one
side of which the open moor stretched away to
the horizon, while on the other side there was
a thin belt of fir-trees. The ice, two or three

1 54 THE LINDSA VS.

acres in extent, was covered with a sprinkling
of snow, which had been carefully cleared from
the ' rinks.' The rinks were sixty or seventy
yards long by six or eight wide, and they
showed like pools of black water beside the
clear white snow.

Already the surface of the little lake was
dotted with boys on ' skeitchers,' as skates
are called in that part of the country ; and
the margin was fringed with dog-carts from
which the horses had been removed. The
stones, circular blocks of granite, nearly a
foot in diameter, and about five inches thick,
fitted with brass handles, were lying in order
on the bank on beds of straw.

Quite a little crowd of farmers, farm-
servants, and schoolboys were assembled
beside the stones, waiting till the match
should begin. Lord Bantock, the chief land-
owner in that part of Kyleshire, was there,
his red, good-humoured face beaming on
everybody, his hands thrust into the pockets
of his knickerbockers, the regulation green

THE ROARING GAME. 155

broom under his arm. Next him stood a
little spare man in a tall hat. This was
Johnnie Fergus, draper, ironmonger, guardian
of the poor, and Free Church deacon in the
neighbouring village of Auchinbyres.

Nothing was ever done at Auchinbyres
without Johnnie Fergus having a hand in it.
He was a man of importance, and he knew
it. No man had ever seen Johnnie in a
round hat. He always carried his chin very
much in the air, and kept his lips well
pursed up, and spoke in a peremptory tone
of voice — especially when (as on the pre-
sent occasion) he was in the company of his
betters.

Next to him stood Hamilton of the Holme,
a great giant of a man, slow in his movements,
slow in his speech, wearing the roughest of
rough tweeds, and boots whose soles were at
least an inch in thickness. At present, how-
ever, he was encased as to his lower man in
enormous stockings, drawn over boots and
trousers, to prevent him from slipping about

156 THE LINDSA VS.

on the ice ; and many of the players were
arrayed in a similar fashion.

' Come awa, Castle Fairm !' cried one of
the crowd as Mr. Lindsay drove up. ' Aw'm
glaid to see ye ; ye play a hantle better nor
yer son.'

4 Na, na, Muirfuit,' responded the laird ;
' my playin'-days are by.'

Meantime Lord Bantock strolled over to
the dog-cart, his ostensible reason being to
shake hands with Mr. Lindsay, whom he
recognised in his fallen state as one of the
small gentry of the county.

' Are you going to honour us with your
presence, Miss Lindsay ?' he asked, as he
helped Margaret to alight.

' Only for half an hour,' she answered, as
she sprang lightly to the ground. ' You will
be back by that time V she continued, address-
ing her father.

' In less than an hour, at any rate,' he
answered as he drove away ; and Margaret,
seeing some schoolgirls whom she knew en-

THE ROARING GAME. 157

gaged in sliding, went off to speak to
them.

At this point a loud roar of laughter came
from the group of men standing at the side
of the loch ; and Lord Bantock, who dearly
loved a joke, hurried back to them.

1 Old Simpson is telling some of his stories ;
let us go and hear him,' said Alec Lindsay,
as, passing his arm through his friend's, he led
him up to the little crowd.

A tall man with a lean, smooth face, dressed
in a high hat and black frock-coat, and wear-
ing an old-fashioned black silk handkerchief
round his neck, was standing in a slouching
attitude, his hands half out of his pockets,
while the others hung around in silence, wait-
ing for his next anecdote.

1 That minds me,' he was saying, as Alec
and Cameron came up, ' that minds me o'
what auld Craig o' the Burn-Fuit said to wee
Jamieson the writer.4" Craig was a dour,t
ill-tempered man ; and though he had never

* A lawyer. f Hard.

158 THE LINDSA VS.

fashed the kirk muckle, the minister cam' to
see him on one occasion when it was thocht
he was near his hinner-en'.

' " Ye're deein', Burn-Fuit," says Maister
Symie.

1 " No jist yet, minister/' says Craig.

1 " I doot ye're deein' ; an' it behoves ye to
mak' your peace wi' the haill warl'," says the
minister.

' Craig gied a sigh, as if it was the hardest
job he could set himself tae. After a heap o'
talkin' the minister got him persuaded to see
Jamieson, who just then was his great enemy
— he aye had ane or twa o' them — an' forgie
him for some ill-turn the writer had dune
him. An' wi' jist as much persuasion he got
Jamieson to come to the deein' man's bedside,
and be a pairty to the reconciliation.

' Sae the twa met, and had a freenly crack
i' the minister's presence. Guid Mr. Symie
was delighted. As the writer was depairtin',
they shook hands.

' " Guid -day, Maister Jamieson," says Craig.

THE ROARING GAME. 159

" Ye've done me many an ill-turn, but I
forgie ye. But mind — mind, if I get wee], a'
this gangs for nowt !" '

A laugh followed the schoolmaster's story ;
and the group dispersed to see that the
preparations which were being made on the
ice were duly performed. A small hole had
already been bored at each end of the principal
rink. Each of these was to be in its turn the
* tee,' or mark. At some distance from each
of the tees, a line called the * hog-score ' was
drawn across the ice. Stones which did not
pass this line were not to be allowed to count,
and were to be removed at once from the ice.
A long piece of wood, with nails driven
through it at fixed intervals, was now placed
with one of its ends resting on the tee, and
held there firmly, while it was slowly turned
round on the ice. The result of this operation
was that the ice was marked by circles drawn
at equal distances from the tee, by which the
relative distances of two stones from the
central point could be easily determined.

160 THE LINDSAYS.

The players having been already selected,
the match began as soon as this was done.

Alec Lindsay, being one of the youngest
men present, was told to begin, his adversary
being Simpson the schoolmaster.

Cameron and Margaret, standing together
on one side of the players, who assembled at
one end of the rink, watched Alec, who
went forward, lifted one of his father's heavy
granite stones, and swung it lightly in his
hand. Meanwhile one of the players from
his own side had gone to the other side of
the rink, and holding his broom upright in
the tee-hole, enabled Alec to form a more
accurate idea of the distance.

Swinging his stone, Alec stooped down,
and with no apparent effort ' placed ' it on
the ice. Away it sailed with a loud humming
sound, sweet to a curlers ear.

Every man eagerly watched its rate of
speed, while some, running alongside, ac-
companied it on its course.

' Soop it up ! Soop it up !' cried some of

THE ROARING GAME. 161

the younger members of the Muirburn side ;
and they began to sweep the ice in front of
the stone with their brooms, so as to expedite
its progress.

1 Let her alane ! She's comin' on brawly !'
cried Hamilton, from the other end of the
rink, in an authoritative tone. They immedi-
ately left off sweeping ; and two of the
Auchinbyres men, acting on the principle that
if the stone had, from the Muirburn players'
point of view, just enough way on it, they had
better give it a little more, began to ply their
brooms vigorously in front of it.

These attentions, however, did no harm.
The stone glided up towards the tee, slackened
its speed, and finally stopped, exactly where it
ought to have stopped, about a foot in front
of the mark.

A slight cheer greeted this good shot ; and
' Ye'll mak' as guid a player as your faither,
Alec !' from one of the bystanders made Mar-
garet's face flush with pleasure.

It was now the schoolmaster's turn. One of

vol. i. 11

1 62 THE LINDSA VS.

his side took Hamilton's place as pilot ; and
the old man, playing with even less apparent
effort than Alec had used, sent his stone right
in the face of his adversary's. The speed was
so nicely graduated that Alec s stone was
disposed of for good, while Simpson's stone
occupied almost exactly the spot on which
Alec's had formerly rested.

Again Hamilton advanced to lend the young
player his advice, while Alec took up his
remaining stone, and went to the front. He
sent a well-aimed shot, but rather too power-
fully delivered, and the adversaries of course
hastened to make it worse by sweeping. The
stone struck Simpson's slightly on one side,
sending it to the left, while it went on towards
the right, and finally stopped considerably to
the right of the tee, but near enough to make
it worth guarding. The schoolmaster's next
shot was not a success. His stone went be-
tween the two which were already on the ice,
and passing over the tee landed about two
feet beyond it.

THE ROARING GAME. 163

This gave a chance to the Muirburn men.
Their next player placed his stone a long way
from the tee, but right in front of Alec's, so
that it was impossible, or almost impossible,
to dislodge the latter without first getting rid
of the former. To him succeeded Johnnie
Fergus ; and he, preferring his own judgment
before that of the official guide, played the
guard full on, with the result that he sent it
well into the inner circle, while his own stone
formed a very efficient guard for that of his
enemy. As every stone which, at the end of
the round, is found nearer the tee than any-
one belonging to a player of the opposite side
counts for one point, the Muirburn men had
now two stones in a position to score ; and
they patiently surrounded them with guards,
which the Auchinbyres players knocked away
whenever they could. So the game went
with varying success, till only one pair of
players was left for that round — Hamilton,
playing for Muirburn, and Lord Bantock, who
belonged to the enemy.

11—2

164 THE LINDSAYS.

Things at that moment were very bad for
the Muirburn men. Four stones belonging
to the opposite side were nearer the tee than
any one of their own ; while a formidable
array of guards lined the ice in front of
them.

Hamilton went and studied the situation
carefully. Then he went back, and played
his first shot.

' Soop it ! Soop it ! Soop it !' roared the
schoolmaster, flourishing his broom, and danc-
ing like a maniac. He alone, of the Auchin-
byres players, understood the object of the
shot, and saw that it could only be defeated,
if at all, by giving it a little extra impetus.
But the advice came too late. The brooms
were plied before it like lightning, but the
stone came stealing up like a live thing, and
just avoiding an outlying guard, gave a knock
to one stone at such an angle that the impetus
was communicated to a second and from it to
a third, while it took the third place, thus
cutting off two of the adversaries' points.

THE ROARING GAME. 165

1 Noo, m' lord, a wee thocht tae the richt o'
this,' said Johnnie Fergus, as he stooped down
and held his broom over the spot where he
desired Lord Bantock's stone should come in.

But Lord Bantock had been given the place
of honour as last player more out of considera-
tion for his rank than for his skill. He
played with far too much force, and sent his
stone smashing on one of the outside guards,
from which it rushed to the side of the rink
and disappeared.

' Did I no tell ye no to pit that sumph at the
tail V quoth Johnnie in an undertone of deep
disgust, as he rose from his stooping posture.

' Haud your tongue, man ! I've seen his
lordship play as weel as ony deacon amang
ye,' said the leader, angry at being suspected
of unduly favouring the great man.

But with a cry of expectation from the
crowd, Hamilton's second stone left his hand
and came spinning over the ice, right in the
track of its predecessor. A roar went up
from the players, as the Muirburn men rushed

.166 THE LINDSAYS.

forward, and distributing themselves over the
path which the stone had to traverse, polished
it till the ice was like g]ass. The stone came
in beautifully, displaced the best stone, and
took the first place, by cannoning off another
of the enemy.

A loud hurrah greeted this feat, and Lord
Bantock stepped forward, determined to do
something to redeem his reputation, which he
knew had suffered from the result of his
former effort.

An old farmer ran as fast as his years
would permit to offer his lordship a word of
advice before the last shot was fired.

1 All right, Blackwater,' said Lord Bantock,
with a nod, as he planted his feet firmly on
the ice, and gripped the handle of his stone,
as if he would bend the brass. Away went
the stone with a rush, and a roar from the
crowTd. Crash — crash — it struck against one
and another ; but it had force enough to go
on. Smash it came among the group of
stones, sending them flying in all directions,

THE ROARING GAME. 167

while everybody jumped aside to avoid a
collision. It was not a first-rate shot ; but it
was successful. The first, second, third, fourth,
and fifth stones were knocked, or rather knocked
one another, out of the way. Lord Bantock's
stone itself went right ahead, ploughing a
path for itself in the snow beyond the rink.
Alec's second stone, long since considered to
be out of the running, was found to be half
an inch nearer the tee than any one belonging
to the other side ; and the Muirburn men
accordingly scored one towards the game.

At the other rinks, meanwhile, subsidiary
contests were in full progress, and the scene
was a very animated one. It was, however,
very cold work for bystanders, and Cameron,
as he saw that his companion was shivering
in spite of her winter clothing, proposed to
Alec that Margaret and himself should set out
at once for the farm, leaving Mr. Lindsay to
overtake them when he returned. To this
arrangement Alec of course assented, and
Margaret and Cameron set off together.

168 THE LINDSA VS.

Most young men would have been glad to
be in Cameron's place ; but the Highlander
felt very ill at ease. He began to seek for
a subject which might be supposed to be
interesting to a girl, and dismissed one after
another as totally unsuitable. The silence
continued, and the young man was nearly in
despair, when Margaret, totally unconscious of
any embarrassment, came to his assistance.

' That is the way to Drumclog,' she said,
pointing to a moorland road which crossed
their path ; ' Alec and you ought to walk
over some day.'

1 Is there anything to see there V inquired
her companion.

' Have you never heard of the Battle ot
Drumclog V asked the girl in surprise.

The Highlander was obliged to confess that
he had not.

4 Have you never read of the persecutions of
the Covenanters, and Graham of Claverhouse,
and the martyrs V asked Margaret again, with
wonder in her eyes.

THE ROARING GAME. 169

* Oh yes, of course ; but I didn't know that
these things happened in this part of the
country.'

' Yes,' said Margaret. ' The Martyrs' Cairn
is only a little way beyond Blackwater. You
know the Covenanters were not allowed to
worship in their own way, and they used to
meet in hollows of the hills and on the open
moors. The country wTas full of soldiers, sent
to keep down the people ; and when the
Covenanters went to the preaching, they used
to take arms with them. One Sabbath morn-
ing a large number of them were attending a
service on the lonely moor at Drumclog when
the English soldiers, who had somehow heard
of the gathering, bore down upon them. They
were dragoons, led by " the bloody Ckver-
house," as they call him to this day. Provi-
dentially there was a bog in front of the
Covenanters. The horses of the dragoons
could not cross it ; and those soldiers who did
cross at last were beaten off by the Cove-
nanters, and many of them were killed.'

17 o THE LINDSA YS.

' I remember it now,' said Cameron; 'I have
read about it in " Old Mortality." '

' The most unfair book that ever was
written !' exclaimed Margaret with some heat
— * a book that every true Scotchman should
be ashamed of.'

' I don't see that,' returned Cameron ; ' I
think Sir Walter held the balance very fairly.'

' He simply turns the Covenanters into
ridicule and tries to make his readers
sympathize with the persecutors,' said Mar-
garet.

'Well, you can't deny that a good many of
them were ridiculous,' said Cameron lightly.

' And you have no sympathy for these
brave men who won our liberties for us with
their blood !' exclaimed the girl.

1 1 don't say that,' said the young High-
lander cautiously ; ' but I'm not so sure about
their having won our liberties for us,' he
added with a laugh. ' There wasn't much
liberty in the Highlands when their King got
the upper hand.'

THE ROARING GAME. 171

Then he tried to change the subject ; but
Margaret answered him only in monosyllables.
This daughter of the Covenanters could not
forgive anyone who refused to consider those
who took part in the petty rebellion of the
west as heroes and martyrs. She made their
cause her own, and decided that Cameron was
thenceforth to be regarded as a ' malignant/

As for Cameron, he mentally banned the
whole tribe of Covenanters, as well as his own
folly in offering any opposition to Margaret's
prejudices ; and before he could make his
peace with her Mr. Lindsay drove up, and the
tSte-d-tete came to an end.

Duncan Cameron had felt the spell of
Margaret's beauty, as everyone did who
approached her. But he had made a bad
beginning in his intercourse with her, and he
now felt a strong sense of repulsion mingling
with his admiration. It was not only that he
despised her narrowness of mind ; there was
between the two something of the old an-
tagonism between Cavalier and Puritan. For

172 THE LINDSA VS.

the rest of his stay at Castle Farm he avoided
meeting her alone, and only spoke to her
when ordinary politeness required it. And
yet, whenever she addressed him, he felt that
the fascination of her beauty was as strong as
ever. When Alec came home on the day of
the curling -match, and shouted out in triumph
that Muirburn had wTon, Margaret's eyes
flashed, and her cheek flushed in sympathy ;
and Cameron, watching her, forgot that she
had not forgiven him for his lack of sympathy
with the men of Drumclog.

CHAPTER IX.

THE END OF THE SESSION.

At the end of the appointed week the two
young men returned to Glasgow, and braced
themselves up for the remaining four months
of work. At the northern Universities the
academic year ends (except for a few supple-
mentary medical classes) with the 1st of May.
Alec Lindsay had a great deal of leeway to
make up, as he had never had a proper
grounding in either Latin or Greek ; but he
did his best, and felt pretty sure of being able
to take at least one prize.

Of course he found his way back to the
Church of England chapel at which he had
seen Miss Mowbray ; and on more than one
occasion he was gratified by a sight of her.

174 THE LINDSAYS.

As to the Anglican form of worship, he re-
garded it with very mixed feelings. He was
pleased by the stately simplicity of the collects,
and by the rhythm of the chants. The
service was free from the monotony of the
Presbyterian form, and it was more ' congrega-
tional ' than anything to which he had been
accustomed. But it was some time before he
could divest himself of the idea that he was
witnessing a kind of religious entertainment,
ingeniously devised and interesting, but by no
means tending to edification. He felt like his
country womau, who when taken to a service
at Westminster Abbey said afterwards : ' It
was very fine — but eh ! that was an awfu' way
o' spending the Sabbath !' The voice of con-
science is as loud when it condemns the
infraction of a rule founded only in prejudice
as when it protests against a breach of the
moral law itself; and for several Sunday
evenings Alec Lindsay left the chapel with
the feeling that he had been guilty of a mis-
demeanour— he had been playing at worship.

THE END OF THE SESSION. 175

The unexpressed idea in his mind (a result of
his Presbyterian training) was that collects, and
chants, and ceremonial observances in general,
were too interesting, too pleasing to the natural
man, to be acceptable to the Almighty. But
by degrees this feeling wore off ; and when he
became familiar with the Prayer-book, he
found that it was an aid rather than a hind-
rance to devotion.

The end of the session drew near ; and the
April sun shone clear and fair through the
smoke-cloud of Glasgow. It was a Saturday
afternoon, and Alec determined to console
himself for the loss of a long walk, for which
he could not afford time, by putting a book in
his pocket, and taking a stroll in the park.

Those who are most attached to the country
care least for parks. A piece of enclosed and
tended pleasure-ground, whether it is large or
small, always affects the lover of nature with a
sense of restraint, of formality, of the substitu-
tion of an imitation for a reality. Trim
gravelled walks are but a poor substitute for a

176 THE LINDSA YS.

grass-grown lane ; a neglected hedgerow, a bit
of moorland, or even a corner of a common,
will hold more that is beautiful, more that is
interesting to one who loves the open country,
than acres of park, with all their flower-plots
and ticketed specimens of foreign shrubs ; for
in a thorn hedge or a mound of furze one
recognises the inexpressible charm that Nature
only possesses when she is left to work by
herself.

Yet, to a dweller in cities, parks are worth
having. They are, at least, infinitely better than
the streets. So, at least, thought Alec Lindsay
this April afternoon, as he wandered along the
deserted pathway, under the budding trees.
Glasgow is fortunate in at least one of its
parks. The enclosure is of small extent, but
then it is not merely a square of ground
planted with weedy young trees and inter-
sected by roads. It is a bit of the valley of the
Kelvin ; and it includes one side of a steep
rising-ground which is crowned by handsome
houses of stone. The little river itself is

THE END OF THE SESSION. 177

always dirty, and in summer is little better
than a sewer with the roof off ; but seen from
a little distance it is picturesque, and lends
variety to the scene.

Alec was wandering along one of the path-
ways, watching the sunlight playing in the
yet leafless branches, and trying to cheat
himself into the idea that his mind was filled
with Eoman history; when suddenly he found
himself face to face with — Laura Mowbray.
She was dressed, not in winter garments,
though the air was cold, but in light, soft
colours, which made her look different from
the Scotch damsels whom Alec had seen in
the streets. She seemed the impersonation
of the spring as she slowly approached Alec
with a smile on her face. Of course he stopped
to speak to her.

' I have come out for a turn in the park, for
I really couldn't bear to stay shut up in the
house on such a glorious day,' said Laura.
' Uncle wouldn't come with me, though I
teased him ever so long. He said he was

vol. 1. 12

1 7 8 THE LINDSA VS.

very busy ; but I think people sometimes
make a pretence of being studious,' and she
glanced at Alec's note-book as she spoke.

Alec laughed and thrust the book into his
pocket, and turning round walked on slowly
by the girl's side.

' If you had an exam, to prepare for, you
wouldn't much care whether people thought
you studious or not,' he said.

' How is your uncle ?' asked Laura.

' I'm sure I can't tell.'

' Can't tell ! You wicked, unnatural crea-
ture ! I am quite shocked at you.'

' He was very well when I saw him last —
that is, about three months ago — with the
exception of a fearfully bad temper.'

' Don't you know that it is highly unbe-
coming of you to speak of anyone older than
yourself in that disrespectful way V

But Laura's look hardly seconded her words ;
and Alec went on :

' It is quite true, though. I wonder Aunt
Jean can put up with him.'

THE END OF THE SESSION. 179

1 Who is Aunt Jean ? Miss Lindsay ? The
lady who lives with your uncle and keeps
house for him V

1 Yes.'

' She is a relation of your uncle's, isn't she?'

1 Oh yes ; a cousin in some degree or other.'

' Mr. Lindsay never married, I believe,'
said Miss Mowbray.

' No ; he has no relations nearer than ' —
' nearer than I am,' he was going to have
said ; but he stopped and substituted —
' nearer than nephews and nieces.'

' And he has plenty of them, I suppose ?
All Scotch people seem to have so many
relations ; it is quite bewildering.'

' Uncle James is my father's uncle, you
understand,' said Alec ; ' and there are only
two in our family, my sister and I ; that is
not so very many.'

' No. But have you really a sister V ex-
claimed Laura, turning round so as to face
her companion for an instant.

' Yes, one sister : Margaret.'

12—2

i8o THE LINDSA YS.

' How lucky you are ! I have no brothers
or sisters ; I have only my uncle. How I
wish I knew your sister ! And Margaret is
such a pretty name.'

' It is common enough, anyway.'

' But not commonplace ; oh ! not at all
commonplace. If I had a sister I would call
her Margaret, whatever her real name might
be. By the way, have you seen Mr. Semple
since that night of the dinner-party V

< No.'

' And you don't seem very sorry for it V
said the girl, with a little smile.

' No ; I can't say I care much for Cousin
James.'

1 He is a relation of Mr. Lindsay, too, isn't
hel'

' Yes ; his mother was a Lindsay, a niece
of my grand-uncle's. He is in the oil-works ;
and I dare say he will become manager of
them some day.'

Miss Mowbray was silent for a few moments ;
then she stopped and hesitated.

THE END OF THE SESSION. 181

I Do you know, I don't think I ought to
allow you to walk with me in this way.
Suppose we were to meet anyone we
knew !'

Alec flushed to the roots of his hair.

I I beg your pardon !' he exclaimed.

'Oh, I don't mind ; but — Mrs. Grundy,
you know.'

' Do you know that you can see Ben Lomond
from the top of the hill V said Alec, suddenly
changing the subject.

' No ; really f

' Yes ; won't you let me show it to you ?
It's a beautiful view, and only a few steps
off.'

Miss Mowbray seemed to forget her scruples,
for she allowed herself to be led up a narrow
winding path, fringed with young trees, which
led to the top of the rising ground.

' If I had known you a little longer,' began
Laura, with some hesitation, ' I think I would
have ventured to give you a little bit of my
mind/

i 8 2 THE LINDSA YS.

' About what V asked Alec with sudden
eagerness.

Laura shook her head gravely.

' I fear you would be offended if I were to
speak of it/ she said.

' Indeed I would not. Nothing you could
say could offend me.'

' Well, if you will promise to forgive me if
I should offend you '

' You couldn't offend me if you tried/ said
Alec warmly.

' Then I will tell you what I was thinking
of. I don't think you should neglect your
grand-uncle as you do.'

' Neglect !'

' Yes. It is not kind or dutiful.'

' Neglect ! My dear Miss Mowbray, you
are altogether mistaken. We can't neglect
those who don't want us. He hasn't the
slightest wish, I assure you, to see me dangling
about him.'

' There ! You promised not to be offended ;
and you are !'

THE EXD OF THE SESSIOX. 183

1 Indeed I am not.'

' Yes, you are. I won't say another word.'

' Oh, Miss Mowbray ! How can you think
I am offended ? AVhat have I said to make
you fancy such a thing ? On the contrary,
I think it so very, very good of you to take
so much interest '

Here Alec stopped, for he saw that his
companion was blushing, and that somehow
he had made a mess of things. He had not
yet learned that some species of gratitude
cannot find fitting expression in words.

' I think it is my turn to say that I have
offended you,' he said after a pause.

Laura laughed — such a pleasant, rippling
laugh !

' It is getting quite too involved. Let us
pass an Act of Oblivion, and forget all about
it'

' But if you think I ought to call on my
uncle,' began Alec — 'no; don't shake your
head. Tell me what you really think I ought
to do.'

1 84 THE LINDSA VS.

1 Do you like Miss Lindsay V asked Laura,
without replying to the question.

1 Aunt Jean ? Yes ; much better than I
like Uncle James.'

' Then you can go to see her now and then ;
and when you are in the house go into your
uncle's room and ask how he is, if he is at
home. We ought not only to visit people for
our own pleasure, but sometimes because it is
our duty to do so.'

' Yes, you are quite right ; and I will do
what you say. But here we are at the top
of the hill. What a delightful breeze, isn't
it ? Do you see that blue cloud in the
distance, just a little deeper in tint than those
about it ?'

' Yes ; I see it.'

' That is Ben Lomond, nearly four thousand
feet high.'

' Beally V said Miss Mowbray ; but there
was not much enthusiasm in her voice.

Alec, on the contrary, stood in a kind of
rapture which made him forget for the moment

THE END OF THE SESSION. 185

even the girl at his side. The sight of distant
mountains always affected him with a kind of
strange, delicious melancholy — unrest mingling
with satisfaction, such as that which filled the
heart of Christian when from afar he caught
a glimpse of the shining towers of the celestial
city.

The English girl watched the look in the
young Scotchman's face with wonder not un-
mixed with amusement. When with a sigh
Alec turned to his companion, she, too, was
gazing on the far-off mountain-top.

1 I really must go now,' she said softly,
holding out her hand.

' May I not go to the park-gate with
you V

Laura shook her head ; but her smile was
bright enough to take the sting from her
refusal.

; Good-bye.'

And in another moment Alec was alone.

The sun had gone out of his sky. He sat
down on a bench, and began to wonder how

1 86 THE LINDSA VS.

he had dared to converse familiarly with one
so beautiful, so refined, so far removed from
his ordinary friends, as Laura Mowbray.
Then he recalled her great goodness in
interesting herself in his concerns, and of
course he resolved to follow her advice. He
could think of nothing but Laura Mowbray
the whole afternoon. He recalled her looks,
her smile, her lightest word. To him they
were treasures, to be hidden for ever from
every human eye but his own ; and in every
look and word he found a new ground for
admiration, a new proof of Miss Mowbray's
intelligence, sweetness, and goodness.

Next week he acted upon her suggestion,
and paid a visit to Blythswood Square. He
was received by Miss Lindsay, a tall, spare,
large-featured woman, whose gray hair was
bound down severely under her old-fashioned
cap.

1 Weel, Alec ; an what brings you here V
was her greeting, as she held out her hand
without troubling herself to rise.

THE END OF THE SESSION. 187

' Nothing particular : why do you ask ?

• Ye come sae seldom ; it's no often we hae
the pleasure 0' a veesit frae you.'

' I canna say much for my attentions, Aunt
Jean ; but then I canna say much for your
welcome,' returned Alec, flushing as he
spoke.

' Hoots, laddie ! sit doon an' behave yersel'.
My bark's waur nor my bite.'

1 And how's my uncle V

' Much as usual. I don't think he's overly
weel pleased wi' you, Alec, my man/

1 What have I done now ¥

' It's no your daein' ; it's your no-daein'.
Ye never look near him/

' He doesn't want to be bothered with me.'

The door opened, and the master of the
house came in. He gave Alec his hand with
his usual dry, consequential air, and hardly
looking at him, made some indifferent remark
to his cousin.

1 Here's Alec savin' he doesna believe you
want to be bothered wi' him,' she said.

1 88 THE LINDSA VS.

The old man seated himself deliberately,
and made no disclaimer of the imputation.

' You'll be going home for the summer V
he asked.

' Yes ; I am going home at the end of the
month ; but I should like to get a tutorship
for the summer, if I could.'

' Humph !'

1 What are you going to be ?' asked Mr.
Lindsay after a pause — ' a doctor, or a
minister, or what V

' I don't know yet,' said Alec.

His uncle sniffed contemptuously.

'A rowin stane gethers nae fog,'"" put in
Aunt Jean.

Alec changed the subject ; but his grand-
uncle soon returned to it.

' The sooner ye mak' up yer mind the
better, my lad,' said the old man. ' Would
you like to go into the oil-works V he added,
as if it were an after-thought.

* Moss.

THE EXD OF THE SESSION. 189

1 I hardly know, sir. I would like another
year at College first,' said Alec. ' But thank
you all the same, Uncle James ;' and as he
spoke he rose to take his leave.

Mr. Lindsay paid no sort of attention to
the latter part of the reply. He took up a
newspaper, and adjusting his spectacles began
to read it, almost before the lad had turned
his back.

In another week the session was practically
at an end. The prize-list, settled by the
votes of the students themselves, showed
that Alec had won the fourth prize, which
in a class numbering nearly two hundred
was a proof of at least a fair amount of appli-
cation ; and he also won an extra prize for
Roman History.

' You don't seem much elated,' said Cameron
to his friend, when he brought home the
splendidly -bound volumes of nothing in
particular. ' You've either less ambition or
more sense than I gave you credit for.'

1 1 expected something better,' said Alec.

iqo THE LINDSA YS.

1 Self-conceit, you should have said, not sense,
Duncan.'

If Alec were conceited he got little to feed
his vanity at home. His father looked at
the books, praised the binding, asked how
many prizes were given in the class, and said
no more. Secretly he was gratified by his
son's success ; but it was one of his principles
to discourage vainglory in his children by
never, under any circumstances, speaking
favourably of their performances. No one
would have guessed from Alec's manner that
he cared a straw whether any praise was
awarded to him or not ; but he felt none
the less keenly the absence of his father's
commendation.

The month of May went by slowly at the
Castle Farm. Alec was longing for change
of occupation and change of scene. One
morning he chanced to notice an advertise -
ment which he thought it worth while to
answer. A Glasgow merchant, whose wife
and daughters had persuaded him to spend

THE END OF THE SESSION. 191

four months of the year at the seaside, wished
to find some one to read with his boys three
hours a day, that they might not forget in
summer all that they had learned in winter.
For this service he was prepared to pay the
munificent sum of five guineas a month. As
it happened, the merchant's address was a
tiny watering-place on the Frith of Clyde,
where Mr. James Lindsay had a large ' marine
villa.'

In reply to Alec's letter, the advertiser,
Mr. Fraser, asked only one question, whether
the applicant were a relation of Mr. James
Lindsay of Drumleck. Alec replied that he
was, and was forthwith engaged.

For once Alec had taken a step which
pleased his father. The laird commended
his son's intention of earning his own living
during the summer ; and Alec fancied that
his father used towards him a tone of greater
consideration than he had ever adopted before.
Margaret was much chagrined at her brother
leaving home so soon after his return ; but

192 THE LINDSA VS.

she did not say a word on the subject. She
knew she had not reason on her side ; and
she was too proud to show her mortification.
It might have been better if she had spoken
her mind ; for a coolness sprang up between
brother and sister, which even the parting
did not quite remove.

CHAPTER X.

ARROCHAR.

The Clyde is not, except in the neighbourhood
of Lanark, a particularly interesting river.
When Scotchmen talk of the scenery of the
Clyde they are thinking, not of the river, but
of the frith which bears its name. When
Alec Lindsay set out for Arrochar to enter
upon his duties as tutor to Mr. Fraser's boys,
he embarked at Glasgow ; and he was much
disappointed to find that for the first part of
his journey there was little to satisfy his love
of the picturesque.

The day was gloomy ; there were but few
passengers on board the Chancellor. For a
long way the narrow stream flowed between
dull level fields. When it became broader

vol. i. 13

194 THE LINDSA VS.

there appeared a long dyke adorned with red
posts surmounted by barrels, built in the
channel to mark the passage. This did not
add to the beauty of the scene. Now and
then the steamer met one of her own class on
its homeward journey ; sometimes she over-
took a queer, melancholy-looking, floating
dredger, or a vessel outward-bound, towed by
a small and abominably dirty tug-boat.

But about twenty miles below Glasgow the
scene changed. A wide expanse of water
stretched away to the horizon. On the left
lay a large town over which hung a dense
cloud of smoke, but away to the west, beyond
the blue water, could be seen the bold bases
of steep hills rising from the sea itself, their
summits being hidden in the clouds. At
Greenock all was life and bustle. Several
steamers plying to different points of the coast
lay at the pier, and a crowd of passengers who
had come by train from Glasgow streamed
down from the railway-station to meet them.

Alec stood on the bridge watching them

ARROCHAR. 19S

with considerable amusement. Here was a
group of elderly maiden ladies, sisters pro-
bably, to whom their month ' at the salt
water' was the great event of the year.
After much debate they had decided to go to
Kilcreggan this year, instead of to Kothesay.
Each carried an armful of wraps, small baskets,
and brown-paper parcels, and each rushed to a
separate steamer, as if thinking it more desir-
able that one at least should be right than
that all should be wrong. Each appealed
excitedly to a porter for directions, and event-
ually all assembled at the gangway of the
proper steamer. But the combined evidence
of the porters was insufficient. Each of the
three travellers made a separate demand, one
on the master, another on the chief officer, and
a third upon the steward, in order to know
whether the steamer was really going to Kil-
creggan. At last they were satisfied, settled
themselves with their belongings in a sheltered
corner, and began to eat Abernethy biscuits.
Then came a whole family — an anxious

13—2

1 96 THE LINDSA VS.

mother, an aunt more anxious than the
mother, two servants, and six children, who
were running in different ways at once, and
had to be manoeuvred on board like so many-
young pigs. As soon as they were shipped,
two of them immediately made for the engine-
room, while the others rushed to the bulwarks,
and craned their necks over the side as far
as they possibly could without losing their
balance.

In one corner was a little band of rosy
school-girls in tweed frocks and straw hats,
cumbered with a collection of novels, tennis-
bats, and fishing-rods. Here and there were
one or two gigantic Celts returning to the hill
country, while a few pale-faced young men
stepped on board with knapsacks on their
shoulders. But the male passengers were few
at this hour of the day. A few hours later
the steamers would be black with men leaving
the roar and worry of the city to sleep under
the shadow of the hills.

At length the bells clanged for the last

ARROCHAR. 197

time ; the gangways were pushed on shore ;
the old lady who always delays her departure
till that period made her appearance, and was
somehow hoisted on board ; the escape-pipes
ceased their roaring ; and one after another
the steamers glided off upon the bosom of the
frith.

And now, suddenly, the sun shone out,
showing that the sea was not a level plain of
water, but covered with a million dancing
wavelets. The sunshine travelled westward
over the sea, and Alec followed it with his
eyes. It rested on the distant hills, and then
the haze that covered them melted away, and
they revealed themselves, dim in outline,
violet-coloured, magnified in the mist. As
the steamer drew nearer them it became plain
that the nearer hills were much lower than
those beyond, and that many of them were
covered with pines up to a certain height.
Above the woods they were often black —
that was where the old heather had been
burnt to make room for the young shoots, or

198 THE LINDSA YS.

light brown — that was where masses of last
year's bracken lay; sometimes they were white
with glistening rocks, or green from never-
failing springs.

And now it could be seen that between the
woods and the seashore ran a white road, and
that the coast was dotted for miles with
houses, of all shapes and sizes, each standing
in its own ground, and sheltered by its own
green leaves. There was no town anywhere
— nothing aj)proaching to one ; but every
three or four miles a few houses were built
in a little row, affording accommodation for
a grocer's and a baker's shop ; and opposite
the shops there wras invariably a white wooden
pier, affording an outlet to the rest of the world.

Soon after crossing the frith, the Chancellor
made for one of these landing-places. Round
the pier there swarmed half a dozen pleasure-
boats of all sizes, some the merest cockle-
shells, navigated (not unskilfully) by mariners
who were barely big enough to make the oars
move through the water.

ARROCHAR. 199

The rocky shore was adorned with groups
of girls who were drying their hair after their
morning's dip in the sea, and dividing their
attention between their novels, their little
brothers in the boats just mentioned, ahd the
approaching steamer. The water being deep
close to the edge of the rocky coast, the pier
was a very short one ; and Alec Lindsay,
looking over the edge, through the green
water swirling round the piles of the pier,
could see the pebbles on the shore twenty
feet below.

Eopes were thrown out and caught, and
hawsers were dragged ashore by their aid.
With these the steamer was made fast at
stem and stern, gangways were run on board,
and a score of passengers disembarked. In
another minute the steamer had been cast
loose and had gone on her way. The pier,
the pleasure-boats, the girls on the rocks,
the white dusty road, the hedges of fuchsia,
had disappeared. In a quarter of an hour
another pier had been reached where exactly

200 THE LINDSA VS.

the same scene presented itself. No town, no
promenade, no large hotels — not even a row
of public bathing-machines, or a German
band.

After three or four stoppages the Chancellor
began to get fairly into Loch Long. The
hills on either side were not high, and were
covered only with grass and heather ; but
they had, nevertheless, a certain quiet beauty.
It seemed as if they made a world of their
own, and as if they were contemptuously in-
different to the foolish beings who came among
them for an hour in their impudent, puffing
steamer, and were gone like a cloud. Right
in front was one bold eminence, perhaps a
thousand or twelve hundred feet high, which
divided the waters of the upper part of Loch
Long from those of Loch Goil on the west.
Gazing at its weather-beaten rocks and its
sketches of silent moorland, one could hardly
help tasting that renovating draught — the
sense that one has reached a place where man
is as nothing, a sphere which is but nominally

ARROCHAR. 201

under his sway, where he comes and goes, but
leaves behind him no mark upon the face of
nature.

Leaving this eminence upon the left, the
channel became narrower, and the inlet seemed
to be completely land-locked. In front the
nearer hills seemed to lie one behind another,
fold upon fold, while beyond some much loftier
peaks raised their blue summits to heaven.
Alec Lindsay never tired of gazing on them.
If he turned away his eyes, it was that he
might refresh them with a change of scene —
the low green rock, the salt water washing
the white stones under the heather on the
hillside, the tiny rainbow in the foam of the
paddle-wheels — and return with new desire
to the sight of the everlasting hills. Strange,
he thought to himself, as he gazed on the
shadow of a cloud passing like a spirit over a
lonely peak — strange that the sight of masses
of mere dead earth and stone, the dullest and
lowest forms of matter, should be able to
touch us more profoundly than all the lovely

202 THE LINDSA VS.

sights and sweet sounds of the animated
world !

In a few miles the top of the loch was
reached. The mountains, standing like giants

* to sentinel enchanted land,' rose almost from
the water's edge. A few cottages stood
clustering together at the mouth of a defile
which gave access to Loch Lomond on the
east. One or two large houses (of which

* Glendhu,' Mr. James Lindsay's seaside
residence, was one) stood at intervals along
the shore.

Alec's first care after landing was to pro-
vide himself with a lodging, as (much to his
satisfaction) he was not required to live in
Mr. Fraser's house ; and he was fortunate
enough to find the accommodation he wanted
in a cottage close to the seashore.

In the afternoon he called on Mrs. Fraser,
and found her a fat, florid, good-natured look-
ing woman, ostentatiously dressed, and sur-
rounded by a troop of her progeny.

' Come away, Mr. Lindsay,' she said gra-

ARROCHAR. 203

ciously, as she extended to him a remarkably
well - developed hand and arm. ' I'm just
fairly delighted to see you. It will be an
extraordinary pleasure to get rid of Hector
and John Thompson, though it should be but
for three hours in the day. You wouldn't
believe, Mr. Lindsay, what these two, not to
speak of Douglas and Phemie — I often tell her
father she should have been a boy — cost me in
anxiety. I wonder I'm not worn to a shadow.
The clay before yesterday, now, not content
with going in to bathe four times, they
managed to drop Jamsie — that's the one next
to Douglas, Mr. Lindsay — over the edge of
the boat, and the bairn wasn't able to speak
when they pulled him in again.'

1 Oh, ma !' protested the young gentleman
referred to, ' I could have got in again by my-
self, only John Thompson hit me a whack on
the head with his oar, trying to pull me nearer
the boat.'

' I don't think it's safe for the boys to be
out in the little boat by themselves, without

204 THE LINDSA VS.

either me or their father to look after them.
I don't mind their being in the four-oar.
What do you think, Mr. Lindsay V

' Really, I can hardly say, Mrs. Fraser,
seeing that I know nothing of boating. I
haven't had a chance of learning ; I hope you
will give me a lesson,' he added, turning to his
new pupils.

The boys, who had been staring at Alec
with a suspicious expression, brightened up
at this ; and it was arranged that the first
lesson in boating should be given next day.

On the following afternoon Alec called at
Glendhu, his uncle's house, to inquire whether
any of the family had arrived ; and was told
that they intended to come down in about a
fortnight. In the evening, as he looked over
his newspaper, his eyes fell upon a paragraph
which informed him that Mr. Taylor, Professor
of History in the University of Glasgow, had
died suddenly the day before. Alec was
shocked and surprised at the news ; but the
thought that was uppermost in his mind was

ARROCHAR. 205

that in all probability lie would never see
Laura Mowbray again. Now that her uncle
was dead she would go back to her friends in
London ; and in a few months she would for-
get him. Not until that moment had Alec
realized how constantly the thought of this
girl had been in his mind, how he had made
her image play a part in all his dreams. And
now it was over ! The world which had seemed
so fair and bright but an hour ago was dull and
lifeless now.

But the companionship of Mrs. Fraser's boys
and girls saved him from sinking into a foolish
melancholy. He tried hard for three hours
every day to make them learn a little Latin
grammar and history, and a great part of
every afternoon was spent in their company.
They taught him to row and steer, and to
manage a sail. But his chief delight was in
the mountains. He was never tired of wander-
ing among their lonely recesses ; he loved the
bare granite rocks and crags even better than
the sheltered dell where the silver birches

206 THE LINDSA VS.

clustered round the rapid stream. He learned
to know the hills from every point of view, to
select at a glance the practicable side for an
ascent ; and before a fortnight was over he
had set his foot on the top of every peak
within walking distance of Arrochar.

About three weeks after his arrival, Alec
heard that his uncle and Miss Lindsay had
come down ; and one evening soon afterwards
he went to see them.

From the windows of the drawing-room at
Glendhu the view was magnificent. Under
the low garden-wall were the still, blue waters
of the loch ; and right in front ' The Cobbler '
lifted his head against the glowing western
sky.

Alec was waiting there in silence, absorbed
in the spectacle, when he suddenly heard a
soft voice behind him.

' Mr. Lindsay !'

No need for him to turn round. The tones
of her voice thrilled through every fibre of his
body.

ARROCHAR. 207

Yes ; it was she, simply dressed in black,
standing with a smile on her face, holding out
her hand.

1 Why don't you speak to me ? Won't you
shake hands ?'

' Lau Miss Mowbray !'

• Certainly. Am I a ghost V

' I thought you were far away — gone back
to your friends in England.'

' No,' said Laura tranquilly, seating herself
on a couch ; ' my poor uncle left me as a
legacy to Mr. Lindsay; and here I am.
You have not even said you are glad to see
me.'

' You know I am glad. But I was sorry to
hear of your loss, and sorry to think of your
grief.'

1 Yes ; it was very sad, and so sudden,'
answered Laura, casting down her eyes.
' And how did you come to be here ¥ she
asked, lifting them again to her companion's
face. Alec told her ; and then his uncle and
Miss Lindsay came into the room.

208 THE LINDSA YS.

c So you've got a veesitor V said the old lady
to Laura, as she came forward.

' Oh no !' answered the girl. ' I had no
idea anyone was in the room when I came in;
and your nephew stared at me as if I had been
an apparition.'

She smiled as she spoke ; but Alec noticed
that as soon as the elder lady turned away the
smile suddenly faded.

Nothing worth mentioning was said in the
conversation that followed. Alec hoped that
before he took his leave he would receive a
general invitation to the house ; but nothing
of the kind was forthcoming. That, however,
mattered little. Laura was here, close to him ;
they would be sure to meet ; and of course he
was at liberty to go to Glendhu occasionally.
He went home to his lodgings wondering at
his good fortune. The rosy hue had returned
to the earth, and Arrochar was the most
delightful spot on the habitable globe.

The one event of the day in the village was
the arrival of the steamer and the departure of

ARROCHAR. 209

the coach which carried passengers to Tarbert
on Loch Lomond. It was a favourite amuse-
ment of the inhabitants to lounge about the
landing-place on these occasions, ostensibly
coming for their letters and newspapers, but
really pleased to see new faces and make
comments about the appearance of the tourists.
Laura Mowbray generally found it necessary
to go to the post-office about the time of the
steamer's arrival ; and Alec was not long in
turning; the custom to his own advantage.

As he was walking back with her to Glendhu
one day, he noticed that she was rather ab-
stracted.

' I wonder what you are thinking of, Miss
Mowbray,' he said. ' You have not answered
me once since we left the pier.'

'Haven't I ? I'm sure I beg your pardon/

' See that patch of sunlight on the hill
across the loch !' cried Alec enthusiastically.
1 See how it brings out the rich yellow colour
of the moss, while all the rest of the hill is in
shadow.'

vol. 1. 14

2 1 o THE LINDSA VS.

1 You ought to have been a painter/ said
his companion.

' Don't you think Arrochar is a perfectly
lovely place V returned Alec.

1 Yes ; very pretty. But it is very dull/

'Dull?

' Yes ; there is no life — no gaiety. It is
said that the English take their pleasures
sadly ; but they are gaiety itself compared
with you Scotch. You shut yourselves up in
your own houses and don't mix with your
neighbours at all. At least you have no
amusements in which anyone can share. The
boating, tennis, bathing, everything is done
en famille. There is no fun, no mixing with
the rest of the world. In an English watering-
place people stay at hotels, or in lodgings ; and
if they tire of one place they can go to
another. Then they have parties of all kinds,
and dances at the hotels. Here everyone
takes a house for two months, and moves
down with servants, plate, linen, groceries,
perhaps even the family piano. I only wonder

ARROCHAR. 211

they don't bring the bedsteads. Having got
to their houses, they stay there, and perhaps
never see a strange face till it is time to go
back to town. It's a frightfully narrowing
system, not to speak of the dulness of it.'

' I never thought of it before,' said Alec.
1 1 don't care to know more people myself ; I
am never at my ease with people till I know
them pretty well. But I am sorry if you find it
dull.'

' Well, of course I couldn't go to dances or
anything of that kind just yet ; but it is dread-
fully tiresome to see no one from one day to
another, to have no games or amusements of
any kind.'

1 There are always the hills, you know,' said
Alec.

Laura glanced at her companion to see
whether he was laughing, and perceiving that
he was perfectly serious, she turned away her
face with a little mone.

4 The hills don't amuse me ; they weary me ;
and sometimes, when I get up in the night

14—2

212 THE LINDSA VS.

and look at them, the)7 terrify me. Think
what it would be to be up among those rocks
on a winter's night, with the snowflakes
whirling around you, and the wind roaring —
ugh ! Let us talk of something else.'

They did so, but there was little spirit in
the conversation. Alec could not conceive of
anyone with a heart and a pair of eyes who
should not love these mountain-tops as he did
himself. He had already endowed Laura with
every conceivable grace, and he had taken it
for granted that the power to appreciate
mountain scenery was among her gifts. Here,
at least, was a deficiency, a point on which his
mind and hers were not in harmony.

With feminine tact Laura saw that she had
disappointed her companion in some way, and
she easily guessed at the cause.

' 1 see you don't appreciate my straight-
forwardness,' she said, after a little pause.
' Knowing that you have such a passion for
mountain scenery, I ought to have pretended
that I was as fond of it as you are yourself.'

ARROCHAR. 213

' No, indeed.'

1 That would have been polite ; but it would
not have been quite straightforward. I always
say the thing that comes uppermost, you
know ; I can't help it.'

Of course she did ; and of course her simple
honesty wTas infinitely better than even a love
of Scotch scenery. The latter would no doubt
come with more familiar acquaintance with it.
And was she not herself the most charming
thing that the sun shone down upon that
summer day ?

Laura knew very well that this, or some-
thing like it, was the thought in the lad's
mind as he bade her good-day with lingering
eyes. Perhaps she would not have been ill
pleased if he had said what he was thinking ;
but it never entered into his head to pay the
girl a compliment : he would have fancied it
an impertinence.

1 What a queer, stupid boy he is !' said
Laura to herself, as she peeped back at him
while she closed the sate behind her. ' I

2i4 THE LINDSAYS.

can't help liking him, but he is so provoking,
with his enthusiastic, sentimental nonsense.
Heigh-ho ! There's the luncheon-bell. And
after that there are four hours to be spent
somehow before dinner !'

CHAPTER XI.

A RIVAL.

1 Hullo ! Semple !'

< Hullo ! Alec !'

' Didn't expect to see you here.'

1 As little did I expect to see you.'

1 "When did you come V

1 Only last night ; by an excursion steamer.'

' Staying with Uncle James V

1 Yes : he asked me to spend my holidays
down here, and I thought I might as well
come.'

' How long do you get V

1 Three weeks ; but I may take a month.'

An unreasonable jealousy of his cousin

216 THE LINDSAYS.

sprang up in Alec's breast at that moment.
Five minutes before he was perfectly satisfied
with his lot ; now, because another occupied
a more favourable position than himself, he
was miserable. He had been able to meet
Laura nearly every day ; but this fellow was
to live under the same roof with her, to eat at
the same table, to breathe the same air. To
see her and talk to her would be his rival's
daily, hourly privilege.

' Splendid hills !' said Semple.

Alec made no reply. The scenery was too
sacred a subject to be discussed with one like
Semple.

' What do you do with yourself all day V
asked the new-comer.

' Oh, I take a swim in the morning, give
the boys their lessons from ten to one ; then I
generally take a row, or a walk, or read some
Horace.'

1 I should think you'd get dreadfully tired
of it, after a bit. There are no places where
they play tennis, I suppose V

A RIVAL. 217

' Not that I know of.'

' I expect I shall find it rather dull.'

Another jealous pang shot through Alec's
heart. Laura and his cousin were agreed on
this point. What more natural than that
they should amuse each other ? In a day or
two Semple would be on better terms with
Laura than he was himself. Of course he
would fall in love with her — and she ?

Anyone watching the course of affairs at
Glendhu would have thought that Alec's fore-
boding was in a fair way of being realized.
Laura was very gracious to her guardian's
nephew, and overlooked in the prettiest
manner his little vulgarities. The two were
constantly together, and neither seemed to
feel the want of a more extended circle of
acquaintance. It was nobody's fault, for
Semple had been invited to Glendhu before
Mr. Taylor's death had caused Laura to be-
come a member of Mr. Lindsay's family ; but
Miss Lindsay determined that she would at
least introduce another guest into the house.

2 1 8 THE LINDSA YS.

She wrote to Alec's sister, and asked her to
spend a fortnight at Loch Long.

When the invitation reached the Castle
Farm, Margaret's first impulse was to decline
it without saying anything to her father,
partly out of shyness and a sense of the
deficiencies in her wardrobe, partly because
she could not easily at that season be spared
from the farm. But when Mr. Lindsay asked
if there was anything in her aunt's letter,
Margaret felt bound to mention the matter
to him ; and he at once insisted upon her
going.

Margaret's advent, however, made little
practical difference in the usual order of
things at Glendhu. Mr. Semple at first
offered her a share of his attentions ; but she
received them so coldly that he soon ceased
to trouble himself about her, and devoted
himself to Laura as before, while Margaret
seemed perfectly contented with her own
society when Miss Lindsay was not with her
guests.

A RIVAL. 219

There was little intimacy between the two
girls, and the blame of this could not fairly be
attributed to Laura.

' I am so glad you have come, Miss Lind-
say,' she had said on the first occasion when
they were left alone together. ' May 1 call
you "Margaret"? I think it is such a per-
fectly lovely name/

* Of course you may,' said the matter-of-
fact Margaret.

1 And you will call me " Laura," of course.'

But Margaret avoided making any reply to
this, and practically declined to adopt the
more familiar style of address ; and Laura
soon returned to the more formal ' Miss
Lindsay.'

Alec was, of course, more frequently at his
uncle's, now that his sister was staying there ;
but his visits did not afford him much satisfac-
tion. With Seinple he had little in common.
There was a natural want of sympathy between
the two ; and besides, Semple looked down
upon Alec as being ' countrified,' while Alec

220 THE LINDSA VS.

was disposed to hold his cousin in contempt
for his ignorance of everything unconnected
with the making and the sale of paraffin oil.
As to Laura, he seldom had a chance of saying
much to her ; while his intercourse with his
sister was more constrained than it had ever
been before. Margaret saw quite plainly that
as her brother was talking to her, his eyes and
his heart were hankering after Laura Mow-
bray ; and she felt mortified by his want of
interest in what she said to him, though she
was too proud to show her feeling, except by
an additional coldness of manner.

One evening Alec called at Glendhu, and, as
usual, he found the younger portion of the
family in the garden. Margaret was sitting
by herself on a bench overlooking the sea,
with some knitting in her hand, while the
other two were sauntering along one of the
paths at a little distance. Alec waited till
they came up, and then he said :

'I have borrowed Mr. Fraser's light skiff;
suppose we all go for a row ? You can row

A RIVAL. 221

one skiff and I the other,' he added, turning
to Semple.

4 Oh, delightful!' cried Laura. 'It is just
the evening for a row. You will come, Miss
Lindsay, won't you V

1 I have no objections,' said Margaret, quite
indifferently.

Laura turned and ran into the house for
wraps, while a rather awkward silence fell
upon the rest of the party. Semple moved
away from Margaret almost at once, and hung
about the French window, so as to be ready to
intercept Laura as soon as she issued from the
house. Alec felt in a manner bound to remain
with his sister ; and she would not see his
evident desire to follow Semple to the house,
and so have a chance of securing Laura for his
companion. When at length the English girl
appeared, with a dark-green plaid thrown over
her shoulder, Semple sprang at once to her
side ; and, without paying the slightest atten-
tion to Alec or his sister, they hurried down
to the water's edge. In a few minutes more

222 THE LINDSA VS.

they had appropriated the best of the two
boats (the one Alec had borrowed) and were
floating far out on the loch.

i Alec could not help his disappointment
appearing in his face ; and his sister noticed
and resented it.

' Don't row at such a furious rate ; you'll
snap the oars/ she said tranquilly, as her
brother sent the boat careering over the
wTaves.

He stopped, and tried to look pleasant, but
he could not shut his ears to the gay laughter
that came to him across the water from the
other boat.

' They seem merry enough,' said Alec.

1 Yes/ said Margaret spitefully. ' Miss
Mowbray seems in very good spirits, consider-
ing; that her uncle has not been dead much
more than a month.'

' How unjust you are !' cried Alec hotly.
1 As if she ought to shut herself up, and never
laugh, because her uncle died ! It would be
hypocrisy if she did.'

A RIVAL. 223

' There I quite agree with you,' said Mar-
garet, with an ill-natured smile.

' You mean that Laura could not be
sincerely sorry V

e I think she is very shallow and heart-
less,' said Margaret, sweetly tranquil as
ever.

Alec was furious.

' You girls are all alike,' he said with sup-
pressed passion. ' Either you are always
kissing and. praising one another, or running
each other down. And the more refinement,
and delicacy, and beauty another girl has, the
more you depreciate her.'

Margaret merely curled her lip contemptu-
ously, and sat trailing her hand through the
water, without making any reply.

Nothing more was said till Alec was help-
ing his sister out of the boat on their return-
ing to land.

■ Don't let us quarrel. I am sorry if I have
vexed you, Maggie,' he said.

1 I'm not vexed,' she answered, in a not

224 THE LINDSA YS.

very reassuring tone, keeping her eyes upon
the rocks at her feet.

Her brother s real offence was that he had
fallen in love with Laura, and that she now
occupied a very secondary place in his heart.
And that she could not forgive.

1 Won't you come up to the house V she
asked.

' No ; and you can tell that cad that the
next time he wants Mr. Fraser's boat he had
better borrow it himself.'

So saying, Alec shouldered the oars and
strode away.

Though he had defended Laura passionately
when his sister spoke her mind about that
young lady, Alec felt that he had been badly
used. He had certainly made the proposal
to the whole party, but he had pointedly
looked at Laura and spoken to her ; and she
had replied in the same way. There was,
indeed, a tacit understanding between them
at the moment, that she would be his partner
for the evening; and it was chiefly from a

A RIVAL. 225

spirit of coquetry that she had chosen to
ignore it afterwards.

But Laura showed no trace of embarrass-
ment when she met Alec in the village next
day.

' Why didn't you come into the house last
night V she said with a smile.

' I didn't think it mattered.'

I Why are you so cross ? I suppose I have
managed to offend you again. I never saw
anyone so touchy and unreasonable !'

' It doesn't very much matter — does it V
' Why V

I I mean, you don't really care whether —
oh ! — never mind.'

' Now, I really believe you are annoyed
because I went in your cousin's boat last
night, instead of yours. But what could I
do % I couldn't say, " I prefer to go with
Mr. Lindsay " — could I V

' No ; but — but you never seem to think of
me at all now, Miss Mowbray.'

' Nonsense t answered the girl, as a pleased

vol. 1. 15

226 THE LINDSA VS.

blush came over her face. ' And to prove
my goodwill, I'll tell you what I will do.
I will let you take me for a row this evening.'

' Will you V

This was said so eagerly that Laura could
not help blushing again.

'The others are going to dine at Mr.
Grainger's to-night, over at Loch Lomond
side.'

' But I am to be with the Frasers to-night !'
exclaimed Alec in dismay. ' Would not to-
morrow night do as well V Then, seeing
that his companion did not seem to care for
this change of plans, he added : ' But I dare
say I can manage to get away by half-past
eight. That would not be too late, would it ?
It is quite light until after nine.'

'I will be in the garden, then ; but I must
go now,' said Laura hurriedly, as she bade
him good-day.

The evening went by as on leaden feet wdth
Alec Lindsay, as he talked to Mr. Fraser, or
listened to his wife's interminable easy-going

A RIVAL. 227

complaints about her children and her servants,
and tried to appear interested, and at his ease.
He could not keep the thought of the coming
meeting out of his mind.

With rather a lame excuse he left Mr.
Fraser's house not many minutes after the
appointed time, and very soon afterwards he
was gliding under the garden-wall of Glendhu.
For some minutes no one was visible, and
Alec began to fear that a new disappointment
was in store for him. But presently a figure
began to move through the shadows of the
trees. It was Laura ! She stepped without a
word over the loose rocks and stones ; then,
hardly touching Alec's outstretched hand, she
lightly took her place at the stern, and met
Alec's gaze wTith a smile.

' Do you know, I feel horribly guilty, and
all through you,' she said, as the boat moved
swiftly out into the loch.

'Why should it make any difference that
there is no discontented fellow-creature in
another boat behind us V asked Alec gaily.

15 -2

228 THE LINDSA VS.

Laura shook her head, but made no
reply. Leaning back in the stern she took
off her hat, and let the cool breeze blow
upon her face. Alec thought he had never
seen her look so beautiful. The delicate
curves of her features, the peach-like com-
plexion, the melting look in her eyes, made
him feel as if the girl seated near him was
something more than human.

' Don't you think we have gone far
enough ?' said Laura gently, when Alec had
rowed some way in silence.

He stopped, resting on his oars.
'How still it is — and how beautiful!' she
exclaimed in the same low voice.

Not a sound but the faint lapping of the
water on the boat fell upon their ears. The
hills were by this time in darkness, and the
stars were beginning to glimmer in the
twilight sky. Beyond the western hills the
sky was still bright, with a glow that seemed
less that of the sunken sun, than some
mysterious halo of the northern night. A

A RIVAL. 229

faiut phosphorescence lingered about the
drops of sea-water upon the oars. Nothing
but the distant lights in the cottage windows
seemed to be in any way connected with the
commonplace, everyday world.

' Hadn't we better go back ? It is really
getting dark,' said Laura, as gently as be-
fore; and Alec obediently dipped his oars and
turned the bow of the boat towards Glendhu.

All his life long Alec remembered that
silent row in the dim, unearthly twilight.
There was no need for words. They were
sitting, as it were, 'on the shores of old
romance/ and tasting the dew of fairyland.
That hidden land was for this short hour
revealed to them ; they were breathing the
enchanted air.

It was almost dark when Alec shipped his
oars and drew the boat along the rocks
outside the garden- wall.

* How dreadfully late it is ! I hope they
have not come back/ said Laura, as she rose
to go ashore.

25o THE LINDSA VS.

Alec took her hand, so small and white,
with the tiny hlue veins crossing it, in his
own rough brown fingers, and when he had
helped the girl ashore he stooped and
kissed it.

A moment afterwards, a soft ' good-night '
from the garden assured him that the act of
homage had not been taken amiss. If he
had lingered a minute or two longer he would
have heard Miss Lindsay's voice calling out
in some anxiety, and Laura Mowbray's
silvery accents replying :

1 Yes ; here I am, Miss Lindsay — it is so
much cooler out of doors. My headache is
almost quite gone, thank you ; the cool sea-
breeze has driven it away. How did you
enjoy your party ? How I wish I could have
gone with you V

But before Laura reached the house, Alec
was once more far out in the loch. He
wished to be alone, to indulge the sweet
intoxication which was burning in his veins.

When at last he returned to his little room

A RIVAL. 231

he found a letter awaiting him which had heen
sent on from home. The address was in an
unfamiliar handwriting, and breaking the seal
he read as follows :

1 Caen Lodge, HighcxATe, N.,
'July 10. 187-.

' My dear Lindsay,

1 You will be surprised to hear that
you may see me the day after this reaches
you. I want to see how your beautiful river
scenery looks in this glorious summer
weather. If it is not convenient for me to
stay at the farm, I can easily find quarters
elsewhere.

' Ever yours,

6 Hubert Blake.'

As Alec foresaw, when he read this note,
Blake found existence at the Castle Farm
with the sole companionship of Mr. Lindsay
to be quite impracticable ; and next day he
arrived at Arrochar and took up his quarters
in the little inn at the head of the pier.

CHAPTER XII.

' YOU MUST GIVE ME AN ANSWER.'

Margaret Lindsay, not the scenery of the
Nethan, was the real attraction which drew
Hubert Blake to the north. He was not in
love with her ; certainly, at least, he felt for
her nothing of the rapturous passion which
Alec felt for Laura Mowbray. But he
admired her immensely. He undertook the
long journey from London that he might
feast his eyes on her beauty once more ; and
when he found that she was at Arrochar he
straightway betook himself thither.

Blake was by this time a man nearer forty
than thirty years of age, who was still with-
out an aim in life. He had an income which

' YOU MUST GIVE ME AN ANSWER.' 233

rendered it unnecessary for him to devote
himself to the ordinary aim of an English-
man— the making of money ; and to set
himself to charm sovereigns which he did
not need ont of the pockets of his fellow-
creatures into his own, for the mere love of
gold or of luxury, was an idea which he
would have despised as heartily as Alec Lind-
say himself would have done. Blake had
also great contempt for the brassy self-im-
portance and self-conceit which is the most
useful of all attributes for one who means to
get on in the world. He looked at men
struggling for political or social distinction,
as he might have gazed at a crowd of lunatics
fighting for a tinsel crown. ' And after all/
he would say to himself, 'if I am idle, my
idleness hurts no one but myself. At least,
I do not trample down my fellow-men on my
journey through life.'

He was not satisfied ; but he was not
energetic enough to find a career in which
he could turn his talents and his money to

234 THE LINDSA YS.

good advantage. He was a great lover of
nature, and he had a wide and tolerant
sympathy for his fellow-men. The one thing
he loved in the world was art.

It was not long, of course, before he was a
member of the little circle at Glendhu, and he
looked on at the little comedy that was being
played there with good-natured amusement.
Laura Mowbray soon discovered that the
stranger was insensible to her charms, that
he quite understood her little allurements,
and regarded them with a good-humoured
smile. He saw quite plainly that she was
enjoying a double triumph ; and on the whole
he thought that though she devoted by far
the greater part of her time to Semple, she
had a secret preference for his friend Alec.
He spent most of his time in making sketches
of the surrounding scenery ; and though he
was not an enthusiastic climber, Alec was often
able to persuade him to accompany him to
some of the loftier peaks.

One day before Margaret's visit came to an

1 YOU MUST GIVE ME AN ANSWER.' 235

end, Alec proposed that the whole party — that
is, Blake, Laura Mowbray, his sister, Semple,
and himself — should make an ascent of ' The
Cobbler.' He described the view which was
to be obtained from the top of the mountain
in terms which fired even Laura's enthusiasm ;
and the ascent was fixed for the following fore-
noon.

The morning was rather cloudy, but not
sufficiently so to make the party abandon the
expedition, especially as Alec pointed out that
they would find it much easier to climb than
they would have done if the day had been one
of brilliant sunshine. They rowed over to the
foot of the hill, so as to save walking round
the head of the loch ; and were soon in a wilder-
ness of heather and wild juniper.

The ascent, they found, though by no means
difficult, was long and tiresome. The girls,
indeed, if they had consulted merely their own
inclination, would have turned back at the end
of the first hour ; but it never occurred to
Margaret to give way to her feeling of fatigue,

236 THE LINDSA VS.

and Laura was too proud to be the first to
complain.

Everyone was glad, however, when Blake
proposed a halt about half-way up. They
threw themselves down on the heather, and
tasted the delicious sense of rest to strained
muscles and panting lungs.

' I am afraid this is rather too much for
you,' said Alec to Laura, noticing her look of
weariness.

1 Oh, I shall get on after I have rested,' she
replied ; ' but it is so tiresome to imagine,
every now and then, that the crest before you
is the top of the hill, and to find wThen you
arrive there that the real summit seems farther
off than ever.'

' The finest views are always to be had half-
way up a mountain,' said Blake. ' How much
we can see from this knoll ! There is Loch
Lomond, Ben Lomond, Ben Venue, and I
don't know how many Bens besides — a perfect
crowd of them. Then we can see right down
the loch and out into the frith. Let us be

« YOU MUST GIVE ME AN ANSWER.' 237

content with what we have. Miss Mowbray
and your sister would prefer, I think, to wait
here with me, Alec, while you and your cousin
get to the top and back again.'

But this proposal was not entertained ; and
in a quarter of an hour the whole party were
on foot once more.

Up to this point Semple had succeeded in
monopolizing the society of Laura ; but he
had found that to guide the steps of a deli-
cately nurtured girl over a rough Scotch
mountain, and help her whenever she came to
a steep place, was no light labour. For the
rest of the climb he was content to leave her a
good deal to Alec, while it fell to Blake's lot
to look after Margaret.

One after another the ridges were overcome,
the prospect widening with every step, till the
last grassy knoll was surmounted, and the bare
rocky peak stood full in view at a little dis-
tance. It was, indeed, so steep that Laura
was secretly terrified, and had to be hauled up
for a good part of the way.

238 THE LINDSA VS.

An involuntary cry burst from the lips of
each, as one by one they set foot upon the
windy summit. Far away, as it were upon
the limits of the world, the sun was shining on
a sea of gold. The two peaks of Jura lifted
up their heads, illumined by the radiance. All
around them was a billowy sea of mountain -
tops — Ben Crois, Ben Ime, Ben Donich, Ben
Vane, Ben Voirlich, and a hundred more, with
many a lonely tarn, and many a glen without
a name. At their feet lay the black waters
of the lochs : and far in the south were the
rugged hills of Arran.

' Look!' cried Laura, 'the steamer is no
bigger than a toy-boat ; and the road is like a
thin white thread drawn across the moor !'

1 Come here/ said Alec to Blake with a
laugh, beckoning as he spoke.

Blake followed him, and found that on one
side, where there was a sheer descent of many
hundred feet, a rock, which was pierced with a
natural archway, jutted out from the body of
the mountain.

1 YOU MUST GIVE ME AN ANSWER. ' 239

' This is the e: needle-eye," ' said Alec, ' and
everybody who comes up here is expected to
or> through it.'

* Nonsense ! Why, man, a false step there
would mean '

' There's not the slightest danger, if you
have a good head. I have been through twice
already,' returned Alec, as he disappeared
behind the rock.

A cry from Laura told Blake that she had
witnessed the clang-er. Margaret, whose cheek
had suddenly grown pale, gripped her tightly
by the arm.

4 Don't speak,' she said hoarsely ; ' it may
make his foot slip.'

la a minute he reappeared, having passed
through the crevice.

' Alec, you shouldn't do a thing like that ;
it's a sin to risk your life for nothing,' said
Margaret, in a tone of cold displeasure.

' There's not the slightest danger in it,' pro-
tested Alec.

* None whatever,' echoed Semple ; but he

240 THE LIXDSA VS.

did not think it necessary to prove the truth
of his opinion.

1 1 think we ought to be off,' said Alee ;
' there's a cloud coming right upon us ; and if
we don't make haste we shall have to stay
here till it passes.'

His meaning was not quite plain to his com-
panions ; but they soon saw the force of his
remark. They had accomplished but a small
part of the descent when they found them-
selves suddenly in the midst of a cold, thick,
white vapour. It was not safe to go on, so
the little company crouched together under a
boulder, and watched the great wreaths of
mist moving in the stillness from crag to
crag.

As soon as the mist got a little thinner,
they recommenced the descent, for their posi-
tion was not a very pleasant one. Semple
was in front, while Blake and Margaret
followed, and Alec and Laura brought up the
rear, when it happened that they came to an
unusually steep part of the hillside which

< \/l

YOU MUST GIVE ME AN ANSWER. ' 241

they thought it best to cross in a slanting
direction. The soil was of loose, crumbling
stone, with here and there a narrow patch of
short, dry grass, and, at intervals, narrow beds
or courses of loose stones. A short distance
below there was an unbroken precipice of at
least five hundred feet.

Alec was helping Laura across one of those
narrow beds of stones, the others being
some little way in advance, when they were
startled by a deep rumbling noise, and a
tremulous motion under their feet. The
whole layer of stones, loosened by the rain
and frost, was sliding down towards the pre-
cipice ! With a cry Alec hurried his com-
panion on ; but her trembling feet could
hardly support her. The movement of the
stones, slow at first, was becoming faster
every moment ; and Alec's only hope lay in
crossing them before they were carried down
to the edge of the clifT. For a minute it
seemed doubtful whether they would be able
to cross in time ; but Alec succeeded in strug-

vol. 1. 16

242 THE L1NDSA VS.

gling, along with his half-fainting companion,
to the edge of the sliding stones, and placed
her, just in time, upon a sloping but solid
bank of earth.

In a few minutes more the stones had
swept past them, and had disappeared over
the cliff.

But the position which Alec had reached
was hardly less dangerous than the one they
had escaped from. Behind them was a deep
chasm which the treacherous stones had left.
In front the mountain rose at a terrible slope.
Alec scanned it closely, and it seemed to him
that though he might have scaled it at a con-
siderable risk, it was quite impracticable for
Laura without help from above. If he were
to make the attempt, and fall, he knew he
would infallibly dash her as well as himself
over the precipice.

Some feet above their heads there was a
ledge of rock from which it might be possible
to assist them ; but where were Blake and the
others ? They were out of sight, and the

' YOU MUST GIVE ME AN ANSWER.' 243

sound of Alec's shouts, cut off by the rocks
above, could not reach them. Worst of all,
the mist seemed to be closing upon them
more thickly than ever.

The question was, Could they maintain
their position till help could reach them ?
Soon it became evident that they could not.
The ledge of grass- covered rock on which they
stood was so narrow that they could not even
sit down ; and it was plain that Laura could
not stand much longer.

There was only one way of escape. Eight
or ten feet below was a shelf of rock, fright-
fully narrow, and, what was worse, sloping
downwards and covered with slippery dry
grass. But Alec saw that if he could reach it,
he could make his way round to the top of
the rock, and then he could stretch down his
hand so as to help Laura up the steep.

■ Oh, Mr. Lindsay, what shall we do V cried
Laura, turning to Alec her white, despairing
face. ' Oh, look down there ! What a dread-
ful death !'

16—2

244 THE LINDSA YS.

' Death ! Nonsense ! There is no clanger —
not much, at least. See, now, I am going to
drop clown on that bit of grassy rock, and
climb round to the top. Then I'll be able to
help you up.'

1 But I could never climb up there ! I
should fall, and be killed in a moment !'

4 Not a bit, if you have hold of my hand.'

' But you won't leave me V cried Laura,
clutching Alec by the arm as she spoke ; ' you
won't leave me all alone in this dreadful
place ¥

' Only for a minute.'

' But I can't stand any longer.'

i Yes, you can. Turn your face to the rock,
and lean ag-ainst it. Don't look downwards
on any account.'

And with these words Alec slipped off his
shoes, slung them round his neck, and let him-
self hang over the cliff. It was an awful
moment, and for a second or two the lad's
courage failed him. But it was only for an
instant. Setting his teeth hard, he let go,

YOU MUST GIVE ME AN ANSWER. ' 249

1 " But " — what V she asked.

' But it will be very lonely for me. Life
does not seem worth living when you are not
near me.' And then, hardly knowing what he
said, he poured out the story of his love. He
seized her hands, as they lay idly in her lap,
and seemed unconscious of the efforts she
made to withdraw them. He gazed into her
face, and repeated his words with passionate
earnestness, again and again : — ' I love you,
Laura ; I love you ; I love you !'

Laura threw a glance around, to make sure
that no one was in sight ; and then, slipping
her hands away, she covered with them her
blushing face. When she looked up, she met
Alec's passionate gaze with a smile.

' Oh, hush ! hush !' she said. ' Why do you
speak so wildly V

' Because I love you.'

1 But we are far too young to think of such
things. I don't mean to get married for — oh !
ever such a long time. And you — you have
to take your degree, and choose a profession.

250 THE LINDSA VS.

We will forget all this, and we shall be friends
still, just as before.'

1 It can never be just as before,' said Alec.

1 Why not V

' It is impossible. But you won't refuse me,
Laura V he pleaded. ' If you only knew how
much I love you ! Don't you love me a little
in return ? Sometimes I can't help thinking
you do.'

' Then all I can say is, you have a very
strong imagination.'

1 You don't V cried Alec despairingly.

Laura shook her head, but smiled at the
same time.

1 You must give me an answer,' said Alec,
rising to his feet. He was dreadfully in
earnest.

' And I say that at your age and mine it is
ridiculous to talk of such things.'

' Nonsense ! We are not too young to love
each other. Can you love me, Laura ? What
you have said is no answer at all.'

1 I'm afraid it's the only answer I can give

'YOU MUST GIVE ME AN ANSWER. ' 251

you/ said Laura, with a saucy smile, rising in
her turn, and gliding past her companion.
1 Don't be absurd ; and don't be unkind or
disagreeable when we meet again, after we
come back from our tour. Good-bye.'

He stood, looking after her, without saying
another word. And she, turning when she
reached the French window, and seeing him
still standing there, waved her hand to bid
him adieu, before she disappeared.

END of vol. 1.

HILLING AND SONS; PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.