dangerous studies, peculiar art, and splendid fishing.
there was a glass conservatory in one corner of the garden at kinlossie house, to which the laird was wont to retire regularly for the enjoyment of a pipe every morning after breakfast. in this retreat, which was rich in hot-house plants, he was frequently joined by one or more of the members of his family, and sometimes by the friends who chanced to be staying with him. thither john barret got into the way of going—partly for the sake of a chat with the old man, of whom he soon became very fond, and partly for the sake of the plants, in which he was scientifically interested, botany being, as mabberly said, his peculiar weakness.
one morning—and a gloriously bright morning it was, such as induces one to thank god for the gift of sunshine and the capacity of enjoying it—john barret sauntered down to the garden, after breakfast, to have a quiet chat with his host. he had decided to remain at home that morning for the purpose of writing a letter or two, intending in the afternoon to follow up some of his companions, who had gone off to the hills.
entering the conservatory, he found that the laird was not there; but, in his usual rustic chair, there sat a beautiful girl, sound asleep, with her fair cheek resting on her little hand, and her nut-brown hair straggling luxuriantly over her shoulders.
barret was spell-bound. he could not move for a few seconds. surprise may have had something to do with the sudden paralysis of his powers. it may have been curiosity, possibly admiration, certainly some sort of sensation that he could neither describe nor account for. he knew at a glance who the girl was, though he had not seen her since the day of her accident. even if he had been so obtuse as not to know, the arm in a sling would have revealed that it was milly moss who slumbered there; yet he found it hard to believe that the neat little woman, with the lovely, benignant countenance before him was in very truth the dishevelled, dusty, scratched, and blood-sprinkled being whom he had carried for several miles over the heather a short time before.
as we have said, barret stood immovable, not knowing very well what to do. then it occurred to him that it was scarcely gallant or fair thus to take advantage of a sleeping beauty. staring at her was bad enough, but to awake her would be still worse; so he turned slowly about, as a cat turns when afraid of being pounced on by a glaring adversary. he would retire on tiptoe as softly as possible, so as not to disturb her. in carrying out this considerate intention, he swept a flower-pot off its stand, which fell with a mighty crash upon the stone floor.
the poor youth clasped his hands, and glanced back over his shoulder in horror. the startled milly was gazing at him with mingled surprise and alarm, which changed, however, into a flush and a look of restrained laughter as she began to understand the situation.
“never mind, mr barret,” she said, rising, and coming forward with a gracious manner. “it is only one of the commonest plants we have. there are plenty more of them. you came, i suppose, in search of my uncle? excuse my left hand; the right, as you see, is not yet fit for duty.”
“i did indeed come here in search of mr gordon,” said barret, recovering himself; “but permit me to lead you back to the chair; your strength has not quite returned yet, i see.”
he was right. although milly had recovered much more rapidly than the doctor had expected, she could not stand much excitement, and the shock given by the breaking flower-pot, coupled, perhaps, with the unexpected meeting with the man who had rescued her from what might well have caused her death, somewhat overcame her.
“excuse me,” she said, with a fluttering sigh, as she sank down into the rustic chair, “i do feel rather faint. it does seem so strange! i—i suppose it is because i have had no experience of anything but robust health all my life till now. there—i feel better. will you kindly fetch me a glass of water? you will find a cistern with a tumbler beside it outside.”
the youth hurried out, and, on returning with the glass, found that the deadly pallor of the girl’s face had passed away, and was replaced by a tint that might have made the blush rose envious.
“you must understand,” said milly, setting down the glass, while barret seated himself on a vacant flower-pot-stand beside her, “that this conservatory is a favourite haunt of mine, to which, before my accident, i have resorted every morning since i came here, in order to sit with uncle allan. the doctor thought me so much better this morning that he gave me leave to recommence my visits. this is why i came; but i had totally forgotten that uncle had arranged to go out with the shooting party to-day, so i sat down to enjoy my favourite plants, and paid them the poor compliment of falling asleep, owing to weakness, i suppose. but how does it happen, mr barret, that you have been left behind? they gave me to understand that you are a keen sportsman.”
“they misled you, then, for i am but a poor sportsman, and by no means enthusiastic. indeed, whether i go out with rod or gun, i usually convert the expedition into a search for plants.”
“oh, then, you are fond of botany!” exclaimed the girl, with a flush of pleasure and awakened interest. “i am so glad of that, because—because—”
“well, why do you hesitate, miss moss?” asked barret, with a surprised look and a smile.
“well, i don’t quite like to lay bare my selfishness; but the truth is, there are some rare plants in terribly inaccessible places, which can only be reached by creatures in male attire. in fact, i was trying to secure one of these on the eagle cliff when i fell, and was so nearly killed at the time you rescued me.”
“pray don’t give the little service i rendered so dignified a name as ‘rescue.’ but it rejoices me to know that i can be of further service to you—all the more that you are now so helpless; for if you found climbing the precipices difficult before, you will find it impossible now with your injured arm. by the way, i was very glad to find that i had been mistaken in thinking that your arm was broken. has it given you much pain?”
“yes, a good deal; but i am very, very thankful it was no worse. and now i must show you some of the plants i have been trying to bring up since i came here,” said milly, with animation. “of course, i cannot walk about to show them to you, so i will point them out, and ask you to fetch the pots—that is, if you have nothing better to do, and won’t be bored.”
barret protested earnestly that he had nothing—could have nothing—better to do, and that even if he had he wouldn’t do it. as for being bored, the idea of such a state of mind being possible in the circumstances was ridiculous.
milly was rejoiced. here she had unexpectedly found a friend to sympathise with her intelligently. her uncle, she was well aware, sympathised with her heartily, but not intelligently; for his knowledge of botany, he told her frankly, was inferior to that of a tom-cat, and he was capable of little more in that line than to distinguish the difference between a cabbage and a potato.
at it, therefore, the two young people went with real enthusiasm—we might almost say with red-hot enthusiasm—for botany was only a superstructure, so to speak, love being the foundation of the whole affair.
but let not the reader jump to hasty conclusions. barret and milly, being young and inexperienced, were absolutely ignorant at that time of the true state of matters. both were earnest and straightforward—both were ardently fond of botany, and neither, up to that period, had known what it was to fall in love. what more natural, then, than that they should attribute their condition to botany? there is, indeed, a sense in which their idea was correct, for sympathy is one of the most precious seeds with which poor humanity is entrusted, and did not botany enable these two to unite in planting that seed, and is not sympathy the germ of full-blown love? if so, may they not be said to have fallen in love botanically? we make no assertion in regard to this. we merely, and modestly, put the question, leaving it to the intelligent reader to supply the answer—an exceedingly convenient mode of procedure when one is not quite sure of the answer one’s self.
to return. having got “at it,” barret and milly continued at it for several hours, during which period they either forgot, or did not care to remember, the flight of time. they also contrived, during that time, to examine, discuss, and comment upon, a prodigious number of plants, all of which, being in pots or boxes, were conveyed by the youth to the empty stand at the side of the fair invalid. the minute examination with a magnifying glass of corolla, and stamen, and calyx, etcetera, rendered it necessary, of course, that these inquiries into the mysteries of nature should bring the two heads pretty close together; one consequence being that the seed-plant of sympathy was “forced” a good deal, and developed somewhat after the fashion of those plants which hindoo jugglers cause magically to sprout, blossom, and bloom before the very eyes of astonished beholders—with this difference, however, that whereas the development of the jugglers is deceptive as well as quick, that of our botanists was genuine and natural, though rapid.
the clang of the luncheon gong was the first thing that brought them to their senses.
“surely there must be some mistake! junkie must be playing with—no, it is indeed one o’clock,” exclaimed milly, consulting in unbelief a watch so small that it seemed like cruelty to expect it to go at all, much less to go correctly.
as she spoke, the door of the conservatory opened, and mrs gordon appeared with affected indignation on her usually mild countenance.
“you naughty child!” she exclaimed, hurrying forward. “did i not warn you to stay no longer than an hour? and here you are, flushed, and no doubt feverish, in consequence of staying the whole forenoon. take my arm, and come away directly.”
“i pray you, mrs gordon, to lay the blame on my shoulders,” said barret. “i fear it was my encouraging miss moss to talk of her favourite study that induced her to remain.”
“i would be only too glad to lay the blame on your shoulders if i could lay milly’s weakness there too,” returned the lady. “it is quite evident that you would never do for a nurse. strong men like you have not sympathy enough to put yourself in the place of invalids, and think how they feel. i would scold you severely, sir, if you were not my guest. as it is, i will forgive you if you promise me not to mention the subject of botany in the presence of my niece for a week to come.”
“the condition is hard,” said barret, with a laugh; “but i promise—that is, if miss moss does not force the subject on me.”
“i promise that, mr barret; but i also attach a condition.”
“which is—?”
“that you go to eagle cliff some day this week, and find for me a particular plant for which i have sought for a long time in vain, but which i am told is to be found there.”
“most willingly. nothing could give me greater pleasure,” returned the youth, with an air of such eager enthusiasm that he felt constrained to add,—“you see, the acquisition of new and rare plants has been a sort of passion with me for many years, and i am quite delighted to find that there is a possibility of not only gratifying it here, but of being able at the same time to contribute to your happiness.”
they reached the house as he made this gallant speech, and milly went straight to her room.
the only members of the household who sat down to luncheon that day were mrs gordon, archie, the enthusiastic photographer, and flo, with her black doll; and the only guest, besides barret, was mcpherson, the skipper of the lost yacht. the rest were all out rambling by mountain, loch, or stream.
“milly won’t appear again to-day,” said the hostess, as she sat down. “i knew that she had overdone it. the shock to her system has been far too severe to admit of botanical discussions.”
barret professed himself overwhelmed with a sense of guilt, and promised to avoid the dangerous subject in future.
“mother,” exclaimed flo, who was a good but irrepressible child, “what d’ee t’ink? archie have pofografft dolly, an’ she’s as like as—as—two peas. isn’t she, archie?”
“quite as like as that, flo,” replied archie, with a laugh; “liker, if anything.”
“by the way, how did you get on with your photographing yesterday afternoon, archie?” asked barret.
“pretty well with some of the views; but i ruined the last one, because father would have me introduce captain mcpherson and his man mcgregor.”
“is that so, captain?” asked mrs gordon.
“oo, ay; it iss true enough,” answered the skipper, with a grim smile. “he made a queer like mess o’ me, what-?-ver.”
“how was it, archie?”
“well, mother, this is how it was. you know the waterfall at the head of raven’s nook? well, i have long wanted to take that, so i went up with father and mr mabberly. we found the captain and mcgregor sitting there smoking their pipes, and when i was arranging the camera, the captain said to me—”
“no, maister archie,” interrupted the skipper; “i did not say anything to shames. you should be more parteekler. but shames said something to me, what-?-ver.”
“just so; i forgot,” continued archie. “well, mcgregor said to the captain, ‘what would you think if we wass to sit still an’ co into the pictur’?’”
“oo, ay; that was just it, an’ fery like him too,” said the skipper, laughing at archie’s imitation, though he failed to recognise the similarity to his own drawling and nasal tones. people always do thus fail. we can never see ourselves!
“well,” continued archie, “father insisted that i was to take them, though they quite spoiled the view. so i did; but in the very middle of the operation, what did the captain do but insist on changing his—”
“not at all, maister archie,” again interrupted the skipper; “you have not got the right of it. it wass shames said to me that he thought you had feenished, an’ so i got up; an’ then you roared like a wild bullock to keep still, and so what could i do but keep still? an so—”
“exactly; that was it,” cried archie, interrupting in his turn; “but you kept still standing, and so there were three figures in the picture when it was done, and your fist in the standing one came right in front of your own nose in the sitting one, for all the world as if you were going to knock yourself down. such a mess it was altogether!”
“that iss fery true. it wass a mess, what-?-ver!”
“you must show me this curious photograph, archie, after lunch,” said barret; “it must be splendid.”
“but it is not so splendid as my dolly,” chimed in flo. “i’ll show you zat after lunch too.”
accordingly, after the meal was over, archie carried barret off to his workshop. then flo took him to the nursery, where she not only showed him the portrait of the nigger doll, which was a striking likeness—for dolls invariably sit well—but took special pains to indicate the various points which had “come out” so “bootifully”—such as the nails which junkie had driven into its wooden head for the purpose of making it behave better; the chip that junkie had taken off the end of its nose when he tried to convert that feature into a roman; the deep line drawn round the head close to the hair by junkie, when, as the chief of the micmac indians, he attempted to scalp it; and the hole through the right eye, by which junkie proposed to let a little more light into its black brain.
having seen and commented on all these things, barret retired to the smoking-room, not to smoke, but to consult a bundle of newspapers which the post had brought to the house that day.
for it must not be imagined that the interests and amusements by which he was surrounded had laid the ghost of the thin, little old lady whom he had mur— at least run down—in london. no; wherever he went, and whatever he did, that old lady, like nemesis, pursued him. when he looked down, she lay sprawling—a murdered, at least a manslaughtered, victim—at his feet. when he looked up, she hung, like the sword of damocles, by a single fibre of maiden’s hair over his head.
it was of no use that his friend jackman rallied him on the point.
“my dear fellow,” he would say, “don’t you see that if you had really killed her, the thing would have been published far and wide all over the kingdom, with a minute description, and perhaps a portrait of yourself on the bicycle, in all the illustrated papers? even if you had only injured her severely, they would have made a sensation of it, with an offer, perhaps, of a hundred pounds for your capture, and a careful indication of the streets through which you passed when you ran away—”
“ay, that’s what makes the matter so much worse,” barret would reply; “the unutterable meanness of running away!”
“but you repented of that immediately,” jackman would return in soothing tones; “and you did your utmost to undo it, though the effort was futile.”
barret was usually comforted a good deal by the remarks of his friend, and indeed frequently forgot his trouble, especially when meditating on botanical subjects with milly. still, it remained a fact that he was haunted by the little old lady, more or less, and had occasional bad dreams, besides becoming somewhat anxious every time he opened a newspaper.
while barret and the skipper were thus taking what the latter called an easy day of it, their friend mabberly, with eddie and junkie and the seaman mcgregor, had gone over the pass in the waggonette to the village of cove for a day’s sea-fishing. they were driven by ivor donaldson.
“you’ll not have been in these parts before, sir?” said ivor, who was a quiet, polite, and sociable man when not under the influence of drink.
“no, never,” answered mabberly, who sat on the seat beside him; “and if it had not been for our misfortune, or the carelessness of that unknown steamer, i should probably never have known of the existence of your beautiful island. at least, i would have remained in ignorance of its grandeur and beauty.”
“that proves the truth of the south-country sayin’, sir,—‘it’s an ill wind that blaws nae guid.’”
“it does, indeed; for although the loss of my father’s yacht is a very considerable one, to have missed the hospitality of the laird of kinlossie, and the rambling over your magnificent hills, would have been a greater misfortune.”
the keeper, who cherished a warm feeling for old mr gordon, and admired him greatly, expressed decided approval of the young man’s sentiments, as was obvious from the pleased smile on his usually grave countenance, though his lips only gave utterance to the expression, “fery true, sir; you are not far wrong.”
at the eagle pass they halted a few minutes to breathe the horses. eddie and junkie, of course, jumped down, followed by james mcgregor, with whom they had already formed a friendship.
“come away, an’ we’ll show you the place where milly fell down. come along, quicker, shames,” cried junkie, adopting the name that the skipper used; for the boy’s love of pleasantry not infrequently betrayed him into impudence.
with a short laugh, mabberly turned to ivor, and asked if shames was the gaelic for james.
“no, sir” replied the keeper; “but james is the english for shames.”
“ha! you are quoting now—or rather, misquoting—from the lips of some irishman.”
“weel, sir, i never heard it said that quota-ashun wass a sin,” retorted ivor; then, turning to the stupendous cliff that frowned above them, “hev ye heard of the prophecy, sir, aboot this cliff?”
“no. what is it?”
“it’s said that the cliff is to be the scene of a ghost story, a love story, and a murder all at the same time.”
“is that all, ivor? did the prophet give no indication how the stories were to end, or who the murderer is to be, or the murdered one?”
“never a word, sir; only they wass all to be aboot the same time. indeed, the prophet, whether man or wuman, is not known. noo, we better shump up.”
in a few minutes the waggonette was rattling down the slopes that led to cove, and soon afterwards they were exchanging greetings with old ian anderson, the fisherman.
“iss it to fush, ye’ll be wantin’?” asked ian, as he ushered the party into his cottage, where mrs anderson was baking oat-cakes, and aggy was busy knitting socks with her thin fingers as deftly and rapidly as if she had been in robust health.
“yes, that is our object to-day,” said mabberly. “good-day, mrs anderson; good-day, aggy. i’m glad to see you looking so much better, though i can’t see very well for your cottage is none of the lightest,” he said, glancing at the small window, where a ragged head, with a flattened white nose, accounted for the obscurity.
“there might be more light,” said ian, seizing a thick thorn stick, and making a sudden demonstration towards the door, the instant effect of which action was an improvement in the light. it did not last long, however, for “tonal’,” after watching at the corner of the cottage long enough to make sure that the demonstration was a mere feint, returned to his post of observation.
“yes, sir,” remarked mrs anderson; “aggy is much better. the fresh air is doin’ her cood already, an’ the peels that the shentleman—your friend—gave her is workin’ wonders.”
“they usually do, of one sort or another,” returned mabberly, with a peculiar smile. “i’m glad they happen to be wonders of the right sort in aggy’s case. my friend has been out in india, and his prescriptions have been conceived in a warm climate, you see, which may account for their wonder-working qualities. can we have your boat to-day, mr anderson?”
“oo, ay; ye can hev that, sir,” said ian, summoning donald to his presence with a motion of his finger. “tonal’,” he said, when ragged head stood at the open door, “hev we ony pait?”
“ay, plenty.”
“co doon, then, an’ git the poat ready.”
the boy disappeared without reply—a willing messenger. a few minutes more, and ivor and ian were rowing the boat towards a part of the sea which was deemed good fishing ground, while the rest of the party busied themselves arranging the lines.
strong brown lines they were, wound on little square wooden frames, each with a heavy leaden sinker and a couple of strong coarse hooks of whitened metal attached to the lines by stout whipcord; for the denizens of those western waters were not the poddlies, coddlings, and shrimps that one is apt to associate with summer resorts by the sea. they were those veritable inhabitants of the deep that figure on the slabs of billingsgate and similar markets—plaice and skate of the largest dimensions, congers that might suggest the great sea serpent, and even sharks of considerable size.
the surroundings were cognate. curlews and sandpipers whistled on the shore, complaining sea-mews sailed overhead, and the low-lying skerries outside were swarming with “skarts” and other frequenters of the wild north.
“oh, what a funny face!” exclaimed junkie, as a great seal rose head and shoulders out of the sea, not fifty yards off, to look at them. its observations induced it to sink promptly.
“let co the anchor, tonal’,” said ian; “the pottom should be cood here.”
“hand me the pait, junkie,” said mcgregor.
“shie a bit this way,” shouted eddie.
“there—i’ve broke it!” exclaimed junkie, almost whimpering, as he held up the handle of his knife in one hand, and in the other a mussel with a broken blade sticking in it.
“never mind, junkie. you can have mine, and keep it,” said mabberly, handing to the delighted boy a large buck-horn-handled knife, which bristled with appliances.
“an’ don’t try it on again,” said ian. “here iss pait for you, my poy.”
a few minutes more, and the lines were down, and expectation was breathlessly rampant.
“hi!” burst from eddie, at the same moment that “ho!” slipped from mcgregor; but both ceased to haul in on finding that the “tugs” were not repeated.
“hallo!” yelled “tonal’,” who fished beside junkie, on feeling a tug worthy of a whale; and, “hee! hee!” burst from junkie, whose mischievous hand had caused the tug when ragged head was not looking.
in the midst of these false alarms ivor drew up his line, and no one was aware of his success until a fish of full ten pounds’ weight was floundering in the boat. the boys were yet commenting on it noisily, when ian put a large cod beside it.
“what a tug!” cried eddie, beginning to haul up in violent haste.
“hev a care, or the line will pairt,” said mcgregor.
at the same moment “shames” himself gave a jerk, as if he had received an electric shock, and in a few seconds a large plaice and a small crab were added to the “pile!”
“i’ve got something at last,” said mabberly, doing his best to repress excitement as he hauled in his line deliberately.
the something turned out to be an eel about four feet long, which went about the boat as if it were in its native element, and cost an amazing amount of exertion, whacking, and shouting, to subdue.
but this was nothing to the fish with which junkie began to struggle immediately after, and which proved to be a real shark, five feet long. after the united efforts of ian and donald had drawn it to the surface, junkie was allowed to strike the gaff into it, and a loud cheer greeted the monster of the deep as it was hurled into the bottom of the boat.
thus, in expectation, excitation, and animation, they spent the remainder of that memorable day.
