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 library of popular fiction 
 Ho. 33 
 
 HE BEADS OF TASMER 
 
 
 BY 
 
 - MRS. AMELIA E. BARR 
 
 . 5 
 
 < OF "JAH VEDDER'S WIFE," "A DAUGHTER OF FIFE," "THE 
 "" 'tow Of ORAHGE RIBBON," "A BORDER SHEPHKRDESS," 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 WARREN B. DAVIS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS' AGENTS
 
 COPTTIIGHT, 1890 and 1894, 
 S? BOBERT BONNER'S SONS. 
 
 MM rights retentd.) 
 
 C
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAeU 
 
 I. The Beads of Tasmer ... 7 
 
 II. Roberta 29 
 
 III. Cross Purposes .... 47 
 
 IV. Undercurrents 57 
 
 V. Sara's Lover .... 93 
 
 VI. Sentence Suspended . . 112 
 
 VII. A Love Letter . . . .125 
 
 VIII. Father and Son . . . 148 
 
 IX. Father Matthew for the People . 166 
 
 X. The Minister's Interference . 184 
 
 XI. The Clearance .... 207 
 
 XII. Sara 217 
 
 XIIL The Minister Calls on the Baron . 237 
 
 XIV. Sara's Request .... 259 
 
 XV. Tasmer's Summer . . . 266 
 
 XVI. In the Trough of the Sea . . 286 
 
 XVII. Farewell, Love .... 301 
 
 XVIII. At The Last, Peace . . 331 
 
 XIX. The Secret of the Beads . . 352 
 
 XX. Bringing Home the Bride. . 375 
 
 2061653
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BEADS OF TASMER. 
 
 " Lovest thou Mountains great, 
 
 Peaks to the clouds that soar, 
 
 Corrie and fell where eagles dwell, 
 
 And cataracts dash evermore ? 
 
 " Lovest thou green grassy glades, 
 
 By the sunshine sweetly kist ; 
 Murmuring waves, and echoing caves ? 
 Then go to the Land of Mist." 
 
 On the thundering shores of West Ross 
 stands Tasmer, the old castle of the Torquils. 
 Its foundations are laid upon that colossal 
 masonry which the primeval deep piled up
 
 Beads of lasme* 
 
 when it first began the fashioning of the hills ; 
 and there are hours of blinding mist, and daz 
 zling sunshine, when its towers and turrets are 
 scarcely to be distinguished from the great red 
 rocks which buttress the coast against the 
 stormy Minch. 
 
 At the foot of these rocks, the waves roar and 
 moan through the vast vaults of innumerable 
 caverns ; surge out again in foaming cataracts, 
 and then roll through the torn and splintered 
 fissures with an appalling fury. But above all 
 this ceaseless battle of earth -and water, Tasmer 
 Castle has stood securely for seven centuries. 
 Originally it was little else than a square hall 
 defended by a round tower the walls of both 
 the hall and the tower being twelve feet thick 
 but in the sixteenth century, Rolfe Torquil 
 allied himself to the great family of the Mac 
 kenzie, and built what is known as " the Lady's 
 Tower," for his bride. 
 
 Other additions were made at intervals ; and 
 when, at length, the exile of the Stuarts gave a
 
 The Beads of Tasmer. 
 
 promise of permanent peace to the Highlands, 
 the Torquils began to take a pride in their old 
 home, and to furnish it luxuriously, according 
 to the Georgian ideas of beauty and splendor. 
 Even the small rooms within the ancient walls 
 were made picturesquely habitable ; for the 
 stone work was covered with tapestry, the 
 floors and ceilings with light woods ; and dyed 
 skins, gay chintzes, and soft carpets did much to 
 beautify and soften the grim, bare strength 
 which had been the original idea of home. But 
 nothing could banish the strangely past look of 
 the older portion of the building. In the 
 brightest summer day, the twilight of Ossian 
 lingers about it; and an imaginative person 
 would scarcely wonder to see some fierce, bare- 
 armed Thane of Ross look from the narrow 
 windows, or walk out from the iron-studded 
 door. 
 
 Behind the castle there is a range of moun 
 tains, shouldering each other up until their bald 
 heads are lost in mist and clouds. Half way
 
 IO The Beads of Tasmer. 
 
 down, the firs begin ; and as they approach 
 Tasmer, the dense woods embrace it on three 
 sides. But to the sea it turns an open face, and 
 looks boldly over " the fractured Caledonian 
 isles ;" and the innumerable lochs and bays and 
 sounds through which : 
 
 " By night and day, 
 The great sea-water finds its way 
 Through long, long windings of the hills." 
 
 Among the men of Ross, the Torquils have 
 always held a certain pre-eminence. They have 
 usually had the qualities which insure it ; ready 
 tongues, ready hands, and consciences not over- 
 tender. They handled a sword as naturally as a 
 bird uses its wings. They knew their own 
 minds, and worked out their own wills, often 
 ruthlessly, but without weakness or indecision. 
 Also, the Torquils had an immeasurable admira 
 tion for the Torquils ; that portion of humanity 
 not connected with them, or serviceable to 
 them, had, at best, their profound indifference ;
 
 The Beads of Tasmer. 1 1 
 
 and so little did they care to conceal this social 
 contempt that the motto above their door con 
 stantly asserted it 
 
 " They say, 
 Wat say they ? 
 Lat them say." 
 
 From such ancestors a family is not easily 
 delivered ; and in the beginning of the nine 
 teenth century the Torquils were still known as 
 a race " 111 to themselves and worse to their 
 foe." After this, however, the progressive 
 spirit of the time reached even to the lonely 
 Ross shores. Their next baron was sent to a 
 French seminary; he traveled and observed, 
 and learned to partially sacrifice his personal 
 feelings to the rules of cultured society. He 
 was nearly fifty years old when he inherited 
 Tasmer, and had been in active service in 
 various parts of the world for more than twenty 
 years. 
 
 So he was not averse to sheathe his sword. 
 The grim old castle, to which he attached the
 
 12 The Beads of Tasmer. 
 
 idea of home, had a very warm place in his 
 heart ; and he cherished a most exalted opinion 
 of the importance of his own position and 
 ancestry. It was a proud moment when his 
 general first addressed him as Sir Rolfe Torquil. 
 Hitherto he had been very reticent about his 
 family, but now, as the head of it, he was quite 
 inclined to be garrulous. 
 
 " It is a very ancient barony," he said. " The 
 Torquils are of the pure Albionic race, with 
 some slight admixture of Scandinavian blood. 
 My family were Earls of Ross in the twelfth 
 century." 
 
 This statement was made at mess, where his 
 brother officers were good-naturedly discussing 
 the new prospects of their colonel, and Captain 
 Stafford replied : 
 
 " You may restore the title, Sir Rolfe ; a great 
 deal of favor might be granted you on jour 
 military career." 
 
 *' I am one of those who love an old name 
 better than a new one, Captain. And the Tor-
 
 The Beads of Tasmer. 13 
 
 quils have carved ' Torquil ' with their swords 
 and bayonets all over the English history of the 
 past century." 
 
 " We can go a good deal further back than 
 that," lisped a young lieutenant, with the royal 
 name of Fitz-Roy. 
 
 " You ought to do so, sir. You are Norman- 
 English. I am a Highland Chief. We fought 
 for our own side, and were our own masters 
 until a hundred years ago." 
 
 "I beg pardon, Sir Rolfe. I did not know 
 about the Torquils." 
 
 The young man spoke with an air of apology, 
 but Sir Rolfe answered, with cool contempt : 
 
 " That may be ; but we think no less of our 
 selves for your not knowing us." 
 
 This short conversation indicated the sudden 
 change of manner which his accession to the 
 estate induced. He had always been haughty, 
 but he had hitherto been reticent ; and though 
 manner is a great matter, no one finds it easy to 
 complain of a silent man.
 
 14 The Beads of Tasmer. 
 
 Privately, Sir Rolfe's musings were not 
 altogether of unmixed satisfaction. The estate 
 of Tasmer, though of great extent, was unpro 
 ductive, and the rental roll far below that of the 
 poorest English barony. Highland lords had 
 not then begun to slaughter their game for 
 Covent Garden, nor dreamed of renting out 
 their acres as shooting grounds for their far 
 wealthier southern neighbors. Upon Tasmer's 
 hills were great flocks of sheep, with scrambling 
 feet and twisted horns, and droves of little 
 Highland cattle ; and from these sources the 
 largest part of Sir Rolfe's income was derived. 
 Here and there in the narrow straths it was pos 
 sible to raise cereals, and the wealth of the 
 ocean was at his doors, but within the castle 
 walls there had always been a dreary want of 
 ready money. 
 
 No one but himself knew how this want had 
 pinched him for thirty years ; and he was by no 
 means sure that his pecuniary perplexities were 
 over. This was the more annoying because his
 
 The Beads of Tasmer. 15 
 
 son and his daughter had arrived at ages when 
 they could no longer be supported at economical 
 schools. 
 
 " Donald is twenty-two years old," he mused ; 
 " he ought to be in the army. Sara is twenty, 
 and is doubtless thinking of fine dresses and 
 lovers and society." 
 
 It was something strange for Sir Rolfe to take 
 the children into consideration at all. He had 
 seen very little of them. When their mother 
 died at a lonely station in the Madras Presi 
 dency, they were sent to Scotland ; and they had 
 grown up between the formal discipline of 
 schools and the liberty of the long vacations at 
 Tasmer. During these latter periods, they ruled 
 absolutely the irritable old baron, their grand 
 father, and lived in a perpetual holiday in each 
 other's company. Only Donald had any memory 
 of his mother; his sister had forgotten her. But 
 their father had made three long visits to his 
 native land, and during them they had been his 
 companions. Since the last visit, five years had
 
 1 6 The Beads of Tasmer. 
 
 passed; they had not forgotten him, but they 
 had become accustomed to life without him. 
 
 Still, youth always expects change to bring 
 happiness. They looked forward with pleasant 
 anticipations to the new life which his coming 
 home would inaugurate, and they were dis 
 cussing it together one morning, as they lingered 
 over a late breakfast. 
 
 " There will be a great deal to do," said Sara, 
 " when father arrives. Donald, read his letter 
 again. I do not believe I heard a word of it. I 
 was listening to something old Fergus was tell 
 ing me. What was said about Tasmer?" 
 
 " ' The principal rooms in the castle must be 
 refurnished ; for your sake, and for your sister's 
 sake, we must live more like people of wealth 
 and position.' That is what father says." 
 
 " And when does he expect to reach home ?" 
 
 " After this letter immediately." 
 
 " If it were possible for you to meet him on 
 the way, Donald " 
 
 " I think he would not like it, Sara. Father
 
 The Beads of Tasmer. 17 
 
 was always annoyed at anything like ' fuss.' 
 There is no certainty either about the time. He 
 may be delayed in London, for he is sure to go 
 to the Army and Navy Club, and so it is likely 
 he will meet some old comrade. I will take a 
 good horse to Balmacarra, and leave it at the inn 
 for him. I think that is the only attention it 
 will please him to have." 
 
 Then they renewed a discussion which was of 
 more personal interest to them. 
 
 " I should think father would like to have * the 
 baron's rooms.' The Torquil has always occu 
 pied them. What do you think, Donald ?" 
 
 " I am sure he will keep them, Sara." 
 
 " Then there is no reason why you and I 
 should not at once select the apartments we like 
 best. I will have a suite that looks upon the fir 
 forest. O, Donald ! What charming hours we 
 have had in those woods ! What myteries we 
 have met there ! What pretty nests we set 
 rocking as we parted the branches in our way ' 
 And how the blackbirds used to sing, just as if
 
 1 8 The Beads of Tasmer. 
 
 their hearts were not large enough to hold so 
 much happiness ! And what blue-bells, and 
 moss, and little daisies ! One never forgets such 
 things, Donald." 
 
 " No. Yet I always fancied the firs were full 
 of sad stories ; that they knew all the dreadful 
 secrets of those days when the Mackenzies and 
 Torquils were burning and slaying, and carrying 
 off miserable women and frightening children. 
 If I sleep at that side of the house I hear them 
 crying all night long. I sleep with my beads in 
 my hands, and wake up in a fright to pray for 
 them. I will have rooms that look over the sea. 
 There is nothing secret about the sea. If any 
 harm was coming the sea way, one could see it 
 coming. What is lurking in a wood, who can 
 tell?" 
 
 " Oh, indeed, Donald, you must not say there 
 is nothing secret about the sea," interrupted 
 Sara. " How often it covers itself with a thick 
 mist. Then, how awful and how melancholy 
 are the mountains, and how far away and sad
 
 The Beads of Tasmer. 19 
 
 are the long, low islands! The birds are so 
 quiet, and the very surf is muffled on the beach. 
 Nothing in nature is so full of secrets and oi 
 mystery, as the sea." 
 
 " But I love the sea, Sara. When I get near 
 it I feel it in every pulse of my body. I would 
 rather watch the wind shimmer across it, than 
 look at the finest picture man ever painted. 
 And as for blue-bells and daisies, how much 
 more I love the sea's pale, salt flowers ! Oh, 
 the sea ! The sea ! Glorious things can be told 
 of the sea, Sara." 
 
 " I know that, Donald. I hope father will get 
 you a boat. I could trust myself with you and 
 Angus Mackenzie." 
 
 " I should think you could. Now you have 
 given me a sea-longing, Sara. I must go and 
 find Angus." 
 
 " Donald, the riding-horse must go to Balma- 
 carra first." 
 
 " I had forgotten. The horse is certainly the 
 first thing to be attended to. Still I do not think
 
 2O The Beads of Tasmer. 
 
 father will get here to-day. The stages, after 
 leaving Oban are not to be depended upon." 
 
 Indeed, it was nearly a week after this con 
 versation before the new master of Tasmer 
 arrived. The feeling of expectation had 
 expended itself, and the young people were 
 indulging that not unpleasant sentiment of mak 
 ing the best of a happy period which must 
 soon pass away forever. Then, one brilliant 
 July afternoon, when the windows were all open 
 to the fir-woods or the sea, when they were eat 
 ing dinner, and had for the moment forgotten 
 him, the door quietly opened, and Sir Rolfe 
 Torquil entered. 
 
 Donald sat in his grandfather's seat, Sara at 
 his right hand ; they were talking merrily, quite 
 occupied with the present, forgetful of the past 
 and the future alike ; and of all things, they had 
 the least thought of giving offense and yet 
 when Sir Rolfe saw Donald in the master's 
 chair, his first feeling though it was evanescent 
 as a shadow was one of anger. Innocent as
 
 The Beads of Tasmer. 21 
 
 the appropriation was, and in spite of the joyful 
 love that welcomed him, he felt it. 
 
 Yet he looked with delight upon the chil 
 dren who called him " father." Donald had 
 grown far beyond his hopes. His figure was 
 tall and erect. He had blue eyes full of pierc 
 ing light ; eyes that looked straight at every 
 thing, like the eyes of an eagle ; and that bright 
 auburn hair which had given the prefix roy, or 
 red, to so many of his ancestors. It was easy 
 for Sir Rolfe to imagine him at the head of a 
 troop of cavalry rushing by, with the light of 
 battle on his face. And Sara Torquil resembled 
 her brother in her tall, slender form, her daz 
 zling complexion, her bright hair, and frank, 
 fearless manner. 
 
 For a little while, the joy of their reunion was 
 almost perfect ; but ever, sooner or later, 
 humanity finds the pain of reunion as great as 
 the pain of parting. Some secret disappoint 
 ment or fear enters into all meetings after long 
 absence. No one has stood still ; it is uncertain
 
 22 The Beads of Tasmer. 
 
 whether the changes will please or displease 
 us. Some bonds of sympathy are almost certain 
 to have worn away, and it is to a person, not 
 quite what was expected, that we have to learn 
 to adapt ourselves. 
 
 After the night's rest and solitude, something 
 of this feeling was in each heart. Sir Rolfe per 
 ceived that his son had become a man ; that his 
 daughter had crossed the line 
 
 " Where the brook and river meet." 
 
 She was no longer a school-girl to be retired 
 to a governess or sent out of the parlor if her 
 society interfered with him. And to the chil 
 dren, their father was not quite the same. They 
 missed his uniform ; it had always inspired in 
 them pride and respect. They missed also that 
 air of careless relaxation, which was natural in a 
 soldier on furlough, but not desirable in the 
 master of a home to be arranged on a permanent 
 basis. So that Sir Rolfe Torquil was in many 
 respects unlike the man whom they remembered 
 as Colonel Torquil.
 
 The Beads of Tasmer. 23 
 
 His return home and his accession to the 
 estate had made but a slight sensation among 
 his people. The tenantry of an English baron 
 would have eaten and drunken, and shouted 
 themselves hoarse with hurrahs for their new 
 master. Sir Rolfe expected nothing of the 
 kind. Such a welcome would have almost 
 offended him. Torquil was in the very heart of 
 the old Catholic district of the north, and in its 
 religious and social aspects a flat contradiction 
 to every other part of Scotland. Here the 
 pious, melancholy Celt, cradled in mists and 
 bringing his daily life into constant sympathy 
 with the church, was both by nature and educa 
 tion inclined to a grave and serene seriousness. 
 
 He lived in nearly constant danger, either on 
 the ocean or the wild, precipitous mountains; 
 and he lived almost with prayer upon his lips. 
 Centuries ago, the grand faith of lona, Tyree 
 and Coll had tound among these somber lochs 
 and dusky hills a fitting refuge, and under the 
 little black-thatched cottages of Kintail and Tor-
 
 24 The Beads of Tasmer. 
 
 quil they had preserved the faith of their fathers. 
 And not because they had been hidden away 
 from the world and its trials ; for to the last 
 hour they stood by the Stuarts, fully compre 
 hending that their loyalty included their 
 religion. 
 
 In social life they remained quite apart. The 
 names which thrilled the Lowland heart touched 
 them not. They believed in King Fergus; they 
 knew little of Sir William Wallace, and Robert' 
 Burns never sang for them. Duncan Ban Mac- 
 Intyre and the seraphic psalms of their own 
 saints touched them far more nearly. They 
 were, however, neither rude nor ignorant, tor 
 one or two religious sanctuaries had always 
 lifted their stately domes among these humble 
 clachans, and pious priests and white-robed 
 sisters had been their teachers and friends for 
 unnumbered generations. 
 
 So Sir Rolfe expected only the mannerly, kind 
 greeting which was gladly given him. The men 
 came to their doors, as they passed, and lifted
 
 The Beads of Tasmer. 25 
 
 their bonnets with a pious ejaculation. The 
 women smiled placidly and dropped him a 
 modest courtesy a courtesy which expressed 
 respect without a particle of servility. For they 
 were all Mackenzies and Torquils ; only Sir 
 Rolfe was The Torguil, the head of their house, 
 the chief of their sect, and, as such, entitled to 
 their affection and respect. 
 
 He felt its sincerity, and it warmed his heart, 
 and brought a mist of tears into his bright, stern 
 eyes. He was telling himself, as he entered his 
 children's presence, that no military honor or 
 disciplined subservience could compare with 
 regard so personal and so spontaneous. And 
 their delight and love crowned his satisfaction, 
 so that he went to his own rooms that night 
 penetrated with grateful and pleasant emotions. 
 
 As Donald had anticipated, he took possession 
 of the apartments always occupied by the barons 
 of Tasmer. They were situated in the south 
 wing, facing the sea, and connected with an 
 oratory in the old central tower. It was neces-
 
 26 The Beads of Tasmer. 
 
 sary that he should visit this oratory, for the 
 rnost sacred charge of his father's dying hours 
 referred to it. He sat for some time thinking, 
 then he took from his pocket-book the last letter 
 which he had received from the deceased baron, 
 and he read the following portion : 
 
 " Be careful of the ivory beads you will find in the oratory; 
 and do not be so foolish, son Rolfe, as to think all beyond 
 your understanding superstition. I have been told, as I now 
 tell you, that the fortune of Tasmer is, in some way unknown 
 to me, influenced by them. They were brought here in A. D. 
 ji 33 by Murdo Torquil, a true knight, who followed Tancred 
 to Sicily to the conquest of Jerusalem. He it was who built 
 the church in which we still worship. Forget not to pray for 
 your ancestors when you kneel before its altar. As he was 
 dying he put the beads into the Torquil's hand, and with them 
 a writing which a wise Augustine monk from Feme, wrote 
 out thus : 
 
 ;< ' Tellen these trewe wordse : 
 
 Whaune Tasmer's fortune shalle wane and faide, 
 
 Thaune aske of the beads of Tasmer aide.' " 
 
 Sir Rolfe read this portion over again, and as 
 he refolded the letter, there was no doubt on his 
 face. Slowly, and with a marked solemnity of
 
 The Beads of Tasmer. 27 
 
 manner, he turned the key of the oratory door 
 and closed it behind him. It was one of the 
 small rooms contained in the walls of the tower ; 
 but the stone had been covered with hangings 
 of purple velvet. They were nearly a century 
 old and frail with age, but the lustrous dye and 
 strong silk pile of Genoa, even in decay, looked 
 royal and handsome. The stone floor was 
 uncovered, and there was only one piece of fur 
 niture in the room a heavily carved oak lee- 
 turn, holding an open parchment breviary and a 
 rosary of large ivory beads, beautifully cut, but 
 yellow with age. 
 
 Light was admitted through a window of 
 stained glass, and the last rays of the setting sun 
 tinged with marvelous glory a large white 
 crucifix standing clearly out against its purple 
 background. With the holy sign Sir Rolfe 
 lifted the beads, made rich by centuries of sup 
 plications, and kneeling at the foot of the cross, 
 he recited not only the prayers appointed for 
 the living, but also that solemn litany for the
 
 28 
 
 The Beads of Tasmer. 
 
 dead whose intercession is by virtue of the 
 cross : 
 
 " Give them, O Lord, eternal rest ; and let 
 perpetual light shine upon them."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ROBERTA. 
 
 "All the events of life are materials out of which we may 
 make what we will." NOVALIS. 
 
 " He who loses not his senses in love, has no senses to 
 lose." 
 
 " Beneath her eyelids deep 
 Love lying seems asleep 
 Love, swift to wake, to weep, 
 To laugh, to dream." 
 
 There was sunshine and clear air, and a good 
 blow of fresh wind ; and in it the Sea Bird was 
 dancing- along the pulsing floor of the sea, and 
 humming a pleasant tune as she went. She had 
 been northward as far as the Gairloch, and was 
 making for the little harbor of Torquil in the
 
 30 Roberta. 
 
 morning light; and Angus Mackenzie and a 
 couple of young lads were the whole of her 
 crew, and they were as merry a company as 
 ever journeyed along those storied, cheerless 
 seas. 
 
 But this morning the gray Minch was dim 
 pling all over, and the boat, with a good wind 
 from the northwest, " went away like a lady." 
 The comparison was Donald's. He was sitting 
 with Angus on her deck, drinking their early 
 cup of coffee. They were talking gayly, for 
 they were always happy when they were 
 together ; and it was evident that they had been 
 much together for some weeks, for Donald's 
 skin had taken on that red-brown tint, which is 
 only made by the salted wind of the sea. 
 
 Keeping well in shore, they were surrounded 
 by multitudes of sea-birds, whose shrill cries 
 mingled not unpleasantly with the ringing 
 Gaelic of the boys, and the stirring sound of 
 bouncing water. 
 
 " What are the lads singing, Angus ?"
 
 Roberta. 3 1 
 
 " A song about the Rover of Rochryan. It is a 
 goot song whateffer. If you will be knowing 
 it, you will say that it is a goot song." 
 
 " How can I know it, when I understand so 
 little Gaelic ?" 
 
 " In the English, too, it will be lerry well. 
 They were saying it would be like this ii you 
 will be hearing it," and Angus rolled out the 
 last verse of the spirited sea song with all his 
 own peculiar intonations : 
 
 " Unstent and slack each reef and tack, 
 
 Gi'e her sail, boys, while it may sit ; 
 She's roar'd through a heavier sea before, 
 
 An' she'll roar through a heavier yet. 
 When landsmen sleep, or wake and creep, 
 
 In the tempest's angry moan, 
 We dash through the drift, and sing to the lift 
 
 Of the wave that heaves us on." 
 
 " It is a good song, Angus, but I like Father 
 Matthew's song better." 
 
 " There are other men, ay, there are other 
 men who will be saying that also ; ior there
 
 32 Roberta. 
 
 never was jn the world such a boat-song as 
 Father Matthew's song." 
 
 " Then let us sing it together as we are coming 
 into harbor. Cheerily, Angus, sing with a*. 
 your heart, and the birds will listen to us, and 
 the wind and the water will be our chorus : 
 
 " Boat, that bears me through foam and squall, 
 You in the storm are my castle wall ; 
 Though the sea blacken from bottom to top, 
 From tiller to mast she takes no drop. 
 
 " On the tide top ! The tide top ! 
 v Wide, white breast of the cradling a ; 
 
 On the tide top ! The tide top ! 
 
 That is enough for my boat and me ! 
 
 "She dresses herself, and goes gliding on, 
 Like a lady in robes of Indian lawn ; 
 For God has blessed her gunnel and wale, 
 And oh ! if you saw her stretch out to the gale, 
 
 " On the tide top ! The tide top ! 
 
 Wide, white breast of the cradling sea; 
 On the tide top ! The tide top ! 
 That is enough for my boat and me.
 
 Roberta. 33 
 
 " Old rocks, ahoy ! Old hearts of stone ! 
 Stooping so black o'er the beach alone, 
 Answer me true : On the bursting brine 
 Saw you ever a boat like mine ? 
 
 " On the tide top ! The tide top ! 
 
 Wide, white breast of the cradling sea ; 
 On the tide top ! The tide top ! 
 
 That is enough for my boat and me !" 
 
 They were singing as the boat cast anchor ; 
 and as Donald climbed the hill, he burst out 
 again and again into the stirring, swinging 
 melody. In the firs he became suddenly silent. 
 A figure was approaching him a tall, spare 
 man, with an air of authority and contemplation. 
 As they met, their faces brightened. 
 
 " Father, your blessing !" And in the twilight 
 of the firs, the father's hand was lifted a moment 
 over the young head, reverently bared and 
 bent. 
 
 " My son, God give you His blessing. Where 
 have you been ? It is the fifth day since you 
 left Tasmer."
 
 34 Roberta. 
 
 " Northward to the Gairloch. It was a fine 
 sail. If you had been with us, it would have 
 been much better. Last night, off Scalpa, we 
 sang "the Ave Mary, and missed your help. 
 Some fishing-boats were near, and they sang 
 with us ; but we missed your voice, dear 
 Father." 
 
 " Now, Donald, are you going home ?" 
 
 " Yes, Father." 
 
 "That is right. Sir Rolfe is troubled about 
 you. You do not please him lately. A son 
 should be obedient." 
 
 Donald's face showed a little resentment. 
 
 " I try to be obedient. It is very hard some 
 times, Father." 
 
 " Have you considered well the words I gave 
 you to read ? ' It is much more secure to be in 
 a state of subjection than in authority.' " 
 
 " But a young man may have an opinion of 
 his own?" 
 
 " ' If God be amongst us, we may sometimes 
 give up our opinion for the sake of peace.' "
 
 Roberta. 35 
 
 " But if I am certainly right?" 
 
 " ' Although thy opinion be good, yet if, for 
 God's sake, thou leavest it, to follow that of 
 another, it will be more profitable to thee.' 
 These are the counsels of one wiser and holier 
 than most mortals." * 
 
 He passed gravely on with the words, and 
 Donald, troubled at the reproof and the obliga 
 tion implied in it, reached Tasmer in an 
 unhappy and dissatisfied mood. It was yet 
 early, and in the entrance hall he saw Fergus, 
 the oldest servant in the castle, pottering about 
 among the antlers and shields and dusty old 
 flags. As Donald appeared, he dropped all pre 
 tences, and went to meet him. 
 
 " It wass a goot wind that blew you home, 
 Maistir Tonalt. Sir Rolfe is the angry man ; 
 the angriest man in all Ross, is he whateffer." 
 
 " Have I done anything wrong, Fergus, while 
 I was out of sight and hearing ?" 
 
 * Thomas a Kempis The following of Christ. Chap. 9.
 
 36 Roberta. 
 
 " You haf been strafaiging aal over the 
 Minch ; you haf been more as four days away ; 
 and you know there iss company in the house, 
 and Sir Rolfe is not in the mood to be doing the 
 honors to any man, no, nor yet to the saints 
 themselves." 
 
 Donald made no further remark, but he went 
 up-stairs to change his sea-suit, fretted and 
 unhappy. With a heart full of love and of good 
 intentions, he seemed quite unable to satisfy his 
 father. It was scarcely the youth's fault, for the 
 things in which he offended were parts and 
 results of circumstances which Donald Torquil 
 had no power to alter or control. 
 
 In the first place, his presence in the castle 
 was not desirable. There was really no place 
 for him, no duty to fulfil ; and as Sir Rolfe fre 
 quently suffered from those diseases common to 
 East Indian officers, Donald was a constant pres 
 entation to the nervous, suspicious man, of an 
 heir waiting for his decease. Generally, he 
 knew well that the suspicion was falsv and cruel,
 
 Roberta. 37 
 
 but there were hours when he half-believed it, 
 and when it humored his ill-temper to say so. 
 That momentary shadow of Donald in The 
 Torquil's chair, which had darkened his own 
 welcome home, was, in a dim, unacknowledged 
 way, the key to the treatment of his son ; per 
 haps because it interpreted some unvoiced 
 regret or resentment in his own delayed inheri 
 tance. 
 
 Also, he was annoyed by his inability to pro 
 vide tor Donald without seriously curtailing his 
 own plans. He felt that the youth ought to 
 have his commission, but to give it to him 
 would not only necessitate the outlay of much 
 ready money, but also the obligation of an allow 
 ance sufficient to maintain the honor of the 
 Torquils among his associates. It was true the 
 late baron had thus provided for him, and often 
 at serious personal inconvenience. He could 
 remember years when his remittances must 
 have been the result of great self-denial on the 
 part of the whole Tasmer household. But he
 
 38 Roberta. 
 
 told himself that he was placed in very different 
 circumstances. The late baron had been a keen 
 sportsman ; he asked no other pleasure or 
 occupation, and it was economically at his own 
 doors. 
 
 The late baron had no daughter to marry ; he 
 was not therefore compelled to entertain com 
 pany and to keep up the retinue fashionable 
 society demanded. Sir Rolfe was fond of his 
 daughter ; his fatherly instinct toward her was 
 without a breath of suspicion, and her beauty 
 was a source of great pride to him. He was 
 anxious to give her every advantage, and to do 
 this, and also to make Donald the allowance 
 suitable to an officer in a good cavalry regiment, 
 was beyond his power. But he constantly 
 reflected that Donald was only twenty-two 
 years old, and that he could very well wait a 
 little, and allow his sister to have such advan 
 tages as are supposed necessary for the matri 
 monial settlement of a girl. 
 
 It was such reflections as these which colored
 
 Roberta. 39 
 
 the first weeks of life at Tasmer after Sir Rolfe's 
 return. Still, no one becomes unkind or unjust 
 at once. There must be an aggregation of small 
 wrongs, and for these time is necessary. Other 
 resisting powers against evil were also ever 
 steadily at work. Sir Rolfe was yet, in the 
 main, obedient to his confessor, Father Matthew 
 Contach, a man of lofty ideals and spotless purity 
 of action ; and still his guardian angel, with 
 prayers unutterable and never-ceasing vigils, 
 kept watch over the soul committed to it ; for 
 other friends may grow weary, and lose patience, 
 and cease to love, but a man's guardian angel is 
 his soul's oldest and truest friend ; from his 
 first breath unto his last breath, it will never 
 leave nor forsake him. 
 
 Eyes watch us that we cannot see, 
 
 Lips warn us that we may not kiss ; 
 They wait for us and starrily 
 
 Lean toward us from Heaven's lattices.* 
 
 * " For He shall give His angels charge over Thee, to keep 
 thee in all thy ways." Psalm xci ; n.
 
 4O Roberta. 
 
 Thus swayed by opposing influences, Sir 
 Rolfe was neither wholly good nor wholly bad. 
 There were days in which his son's candid, joy 
 ous temper and handsome person gave him 
 pride and pleasure, and in which he was kind 
 and even just to him. In such a mood he had 
 bought the Sea Bird for Donald, and told him 
 while he was waiting his commission to make 
 himself familiar with the neighboring coasts and 
 islets. 
 
 " For," said he, as he solemnly signed himself, 
 " they are girt with the solitary caves and ruined 
 churches of the early saints." 
 
 The boat had been a real friend. When the 
 domestic atmosphere was cloudy, Donald usually 
 stole away in it, and found upon the ocean's 
 breast the companionship and sympathy it has 
 for all who love it. With his own unrest, its 
 unrest blent, until both alike heard the divine 
 whisper " Peace ! Be still." Or he drifted on 
 placid seas into lovely bays, empty of all earth's 
 noises, but full of the presence of God. Or
 
 Roberta. 41 
 
 Angus Mackenzie went with him, and they had a 
 real fight with wind and waves, and in the close 
 strait between lite and death, easily forgot the 
 petty vexations for which there is no remedy but 
 that sufferance so intolerable to impatient youth. 
 
 Very often, 'however, Angus could not go 
 with him. The fishing had to be attended to, 
 and Angus was his father's chief helper. So 
 Donald ventured out with only a couple of boys 
 from the village, and gradually learned how to 
 manage the boat that was " his castle wall," and 
 keep her cleverly " on the tide top." At first, 
 when Angus was not with him, he hugged the 
 shore closely, for the narrow seas were full of 
 races and contrary currents, and also subject to 
 sudden squalls, needing not only the most alert 
 movements, but also a knowledge of the elements 
 which was almost a prescience. 
 
 One day, soon after the Sea Bird had been 
 given him, he wanted to go northward, but 
 Angus could not leave the nets. It was an 
 exquisite day in August ; there would be a full
 
 42 Roberta. 
 
 moon at night, and Donald felt all the magic oi 
 the lonely sea by anticipation. He was yet a 
 novice about managing his boat, and in the after 
 noon of the second day, a breeze came out of 
 the northeast, and flew round to the southeast, 
 with a thunderstorm among the Alps of Tor- 
 ridon. He had only two lads with him, and 
 thought it best to up helm and run for it. For 
 a few miles the boat bore down the wind, the 
 breeze hardening and the sea rising all the time. 
 The small topmast was bending like a whip, and 
 pretty soon it went with a crash that made 
 Donald, for the moment, let go the helm with 
 fright. After another blow, the topmast gear 
 got tangled up with the main rigging, the hal 
 yards were badly jammed, and though boys 
 are generally willing to do reckless things on a 
 boat, Donald's helpers were quite unable to get 
 the mess cut away. 
 
 Fortunately there was a little smack in sight. 
 It rounded cleverly up alongside the Sea Bird, 
 and one of the occupants asked what was the
 
 Roberta. 43 
 
 mischief. But it was easier to sec the mischief 
 than to listen to any description of it, and before 
 Donald had finished speaking, the interrogator 
 and a girl who stood by his side were on board. 
 Then no explanations were necessary. The girl 
 took the helm, and the man went to work with 
 a will, and with Donald's help, the loose gear 
 was cast adrift and the boat made as snug as 
 was possible under the circumstances. The 
 smack had sheared off. The wind was rising, 
 the waves running wildly, and after a busy, wet 
 hour, Donald was glad to find the Sea Bird, 
 under the girl's hand, making for a misty little 
 cove in the shadow of Ben Bhreach. 
 
 Very soon they were in smooth water, and 
 then Donald looked more closely at his helpers. 
 The man was evidently a clergyman. When he 
 put back his fisher's oil-skins he showed the 
 black broadcloth and white bands of his profes 
 sion ; and ere Donald could speak, he said : 
 
 " I am David Balfour, Free Kirk minister of 
 Lilcrloch. Yonder stone house is my manse,
 
 44 Roberta, 
 
 and both I and my daughter Roberta will be 
 glad to give you shelter to-night. It will be a 
 bad night, Roberta !" 
 " It will be a very bad night at sea." 
 Then Donald turned to the girl who still stood 
 by the helm. She had flung back from her head 
 the tartan hood which had hitherto almost hid 
 her face, and she fully enjoyed Donald's sur 
 prise. For Roberta Balfour was no ordinary 
 Scotch beauty ; many people doubted if she 
 were a beauty at all. Her own sex was inclined 
 to deny her even a moderate share of good 
 looks ; but to those who could feel the girl's 
 charm, she was of the grandest type of woman 
 hood, tall, supple, strong, full of an intense 
 ritalitj, with the free, haughty carriage of a 
 young deer on the mountains. Her head was 
 large and finely formed ; she had a great deal of 
 black hair, strong and wavy ; a wide, low brow; 
 large brown eyes ; a nose rather flat, and broad 
 at the end, with wide nostrils ; and a well- 
 termed chin below a lovely mouth, red and full,
 
 Roberta. 45 
 
 and showing white, even teeth. When Donald 
 first saw her, it was under unusually favorable 
 circumstances. She loved the sea, and in an 
 encounter with its roughest moods rose to her 
 grandest beauty. 
 
 She added a few words of welcome to her 
 father's invitation, and crowned them with a 
 smile beyond all words. The evening was like 
 some blessed trance to Donald. He saw her 
 moving about the manse parlor, making tea, fill 
 ing the minister' pipe, lighting the candles ; and 
 he heard her speaking in some glorified tongue, 
 that only men in love ever hear. Her clear, 
 musical laugh moved his pulses in a joyful meas 
 ure ; her little plaintive songs made him divinely 
 sad. He could not sleep; he did not want to 
 sleep. He sat by the fire in a kind of rapture, 
 and thought over every change in her exquisite 
 face and every tone in her voice. He recalled 
 her moods and attitudes. He could have wept 
 with joy. 
 
 " I have found her whom my soul loveth," he
 
 46 Roberta. 
 
 said, softly ; and the noblest nature of the man 
 
 ' was touched by the reflection. " Blessed Virgin 
 
 Mary," he whispered, " Lover of all pure women, 
 
 to Thee I offer the first moments of my delight. ' 
 
 And then humbly kneeling, he recited the five 
 joyful mysteries and the Salve Regina. Doubt 
 less, it was the first time the Blessed Among 
 Women had been honored under the roof ; but 
 Donald thought not, and felt not, any incon 
 gruity in the whole universe. He had listened 
 to the minister reading his appointed portion 
 and making his usual household prayer, and that 
 as well as all which had been said and done, had 
 only been a part of the wonderful state in which 
 he found himself. 
 
 For two days he lingered at Ellerloch. He 
 climbed the hills with Roberta ; he sailed the 
 bay with her. They went into the garden 
 together, and he helped her to gather the late 
 roses, and the raspberries and currants for the 
 table. He had found his Eden, and, as yet, noth 
 ing that could trouble had entered it.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CROSS PU RPOSES. 
 
 It is needless to say that Donald's visits to 
 Ellerloch were constantly repeated. Under 
 Roberta's instructions he soon became expert in 
 handling a boat on that coast. He got to know 
 every shadow from the blue Canisp and the 
 white crests of Torridon in fact, Sir Rolfe had 
 just cause to complain of his continual absence, 
 his dislike to Tasmer, and his apparent infatua. 
 tion for salt water. 
 
 But his disapproval did not touch the real 
 truth. He suspected no love affair. He was 
 quite sure that Donald delighted in his boat 
 because she was his own because he was mas 
 ter within her small boundaries because to be
 
 48 Cross Purposes. 
 
 at sea released him from all obligations to him 
 self. 
 
 Naturally this belief was irritating. Sir Rolfe 
 was fond of authority, and he had been used to 
 exercise it. Donald was very like a deserter in 
 his eyes. The assurance of Fergus that Sir 
 Rolfe was the angriest man in Ross was not that 
 September morning very much exaggerated. 
 And by this time Donald had begun to realize 
 that his father had some cause to be angry. He 
 had spent the past five or six weeks journeying 
 between Torquil and Ellerloch. If the journey 
 had been the business of the Sea Bird, he could 
 not have been more regularly upon the water 
 way. 
 
 He expected his father's call with some trep 
 idation. He was prepared to make apologies 
 and promises. But a night's sleep had calmed 
 Sir Rolfe. God's good angels visit men 
 a-dreaming, and God has lessons for the night 
 season. Many a man goes to bed angry, and 
 rises chidden and quiet ; and he tells no one who
 
 Cross Purposes. 49 
 
 has been reasoning with him or reproving him. 
 Donald was astonished and touched by his 
 father's gentleness ; he felt ashamed of his 
 neglect, and said so. 
 
 " Father, I have made a selfish use of your 
 gift, I fear. I have been so happy with the Sea 
 Bird, that I have neglected you and Sara. I 
 will do better." 
 
 " The winter weather will help you, Donald. 
 However, your duty will now be at Tasmer. 
 Have you heard that we have visitors ?" 
 
 " Fergus told me of Lord Lenox and a Mr. 
 Maclane." 
 
 " Yes. Lenox is the son of an old comrade. 
 He has inherited very unexpectedly. I met him 
 in London." 
 
 " I never heard you speak of Mr. Maclane." 
 
 " I do not know him particularly. He is a 
 friend of Lord Lenox. But he is very rich, and 
 I expect him to rent Glen Mohr as a shooting- 
 ground next year. I shall put up a ' box ' for 
 him before then ; at the present, however, he is
 
 50 Cross Purposes. 
 
 our guest for a short time. You will, of course, 
 do all you can to make the visit agreeable." 
 
 He spoke in a hurried, decided way, as if to 
 prevent any expression of opinion. Donald was 
 not prepared to speak, and, indeed, he hardly 
 knew what to say. A sense of indignation was 
 in his heart, but he was compelled to restrain 
 the feeling. How could he interfere with his 
 father's plans? He remembered that once 
 before, when he had offered some objections to 
 a very trivial matter, Sir Rolfe had haughtily 
 reminded him that he would have the right to 
 alter it when he was Baron of Tasmer. 
 
 And yet his burning cheeks and air of 
 restraint did not escape Torquil. 
 
 " Donald will be hard to manage," he 
 reflected ; " but, willing or unwilling, the thing 
 must be done. I stood at bay in the Kyber 
 Pass, thirty to one against me, and came out 
 victor. Shall I let Donald and a few peasants, 
 or even Father Contach, move me? No! By 
 every Torquil that has lived before me, I will
 
 Cross Purposes. 51 
 
 do for Tasmer the thing I know is trie best. 
 Donald may be against me, but they that were 
 before me will be my helpers there is a 
 good company of them, even if I go no further 
 back than Knight Murdo Torquil. He could 
 think forward for his race ; why should not I ?" 
 And then, moved by some sudden impulse, he 
 went into the oratory, lifted the old knight's 
 beads and knelt down with them in his hands. 
 
 In the meantime, Donald had gone to his sister's 
 room. She had been in the fir-woods, and still 
 sat before the fire with her mantle around her 
 and her bonnet in her hand. An air of melan 
 choly or dissatisfaction was on her face. She 
 did not answer Donald with her usual impulsive 
 affection. Half-wearily she turned her head 
 and ejaculated : 
 
 "You, Donald!" 
 
 "Whom else did you expect?" 
 
 " Any one but you. You live at sea or 
 somewhere else now. Your talk is of the 
 Gairloch, but there are lochs nearer, perhaps."
 
 52 Cross Purposes. 
 
 "Are you cross, Sara?" 
 
 "No; but I am a little out of heart, Donald 
 Things have not been as we expected, have 
 they? Father is changed ; there is no use try 
 ing to ignore the fact. He has one idea now 
 money. I see that every one and everything is 
 to serve this end." 
 
 " What has he said to you?" 
 
 " That the estate has been sinfully mismanaged 
 and neglected. He thinks it is his mission to 
 redeem it. He refers constantly to the Lenox 
 property, which marches north and east with 
 Tasmer. It was almost bankrupt when Simon 
 Lovat took it in charge ; now, it is steadily 
 becoming valuable. Lovat has been to see 
 father several times. They talk and talk, and 
 after every interview father is more thoughtful 
 and disagreeable." 
 
 " Do you know what Lovat proposes ?" 
 
 " Father will tell you soon enough. I hear of 
 * clearances ' continually. There are thirty-six 
 cotters' families in Glen Easter, and Lorat urges
 
 Cross Purposes. 53 
 
 their removal. Glen Mohr and Ben Torquil and 
 Torquil Woods are to be let let, Donald as 
 hunting-parks. There is not a clachan on the 
 estate, or a rood of land that is not under consid 
 eration." 
 
 " It is the doing of Lord Lenox." 
 
 " He advised father, doubtless." 
 
 'And it is infamous." 
 
 " It is as it is." 
 
 " And pray, what have Lord Lenox and this 
 Mr. Maclane to do with Tasmer ?" 
 
 " Mr. Maclane will pay two thousand pounds 
 a year for shooting over Glen Mohr. Think of 
 that! The Torquil never had as much ready 
 money at one time before. Lord Lenox brought 
 him here ; they came last night, and were off to 
 the hills by daybreak. Rory Mackenzie and 
 Ban Maclntyre are gillying them. Father was 
 angry that you were not at home to go with the 
 party." 
 
 " I am not going to " 
 
 " What nonsense ! They are our guests."
 
 54 Cross Purposes. 
 
 " Guests do not pay two thousand pounds a 
 year for a little shooting. Fancy grandfather 
 renting out a few grouse." 
 
 " But Lord Lenox is our guest and Mr. Mac- 
 lane is his friend." 
 
 " Do you like them ?" 
 
 " 1 have seen them for about three hours. 
 Lenox is handsome, masterful, perhaps cunning. 
 I may wrong him. Maclane, I should think, is a 
 right-headed, right-hearted man. But I was 
 thinking of many other things last night ; they 
 came very unexpectedly, the castle was not in 
 condition for visitors, and 1 was troubled about 
 my own dress. Oh, dear me, Donald ! I feel as 
 if we were in the shadow of some long calamity. 
 Our happy past is over." 
 
 " As for the past, let it go, Sara. It is like a 
 fire burned out; it cannot be rekindled. But I 
 see no reason lor you to sigh over the future. 
 Father Matthew told me to make a special 
 prayer against that sin. He said it was a great 
 folly if I saw a stone in the road to immediately
 
 Cross Purposes. 55 
 
 begin wondering what I should do if the stone 
 became a wall, and I had to get over it. Per 
 haps if there is a stone in our way we may pass 
 around it or throw it out of the way. At any 
 rate, it is not a wall just yet, Sara." 
 
 Sara rose and drew her mantle around her. 
 There was an expression of determination on her 
 lovely face. It was evident that her womanly 
 instinct had divined the tendency of events as 
 yet scarcely spoken of. 
 
 " You will see, Donald," she said, sadly, " that 
 for the glory of Tasmer, father will demand our 
 entire co-operation. You will be expected to 
 work with Lovat in its * clearance ;' I to marry 
 whoever can bring it prosperity." 
 
 " Every Torquil is my kin. I will help no 
 man, not even father, to drive them from Tor 
 quil braes or Tasmer hills. And if I am true to 
 them, you will be true to yourself, Sara? Oh, I 
 know you will be true to yourself !" 
 
 " I can be true as you are to the Torquils. 
 They are my kin also."
 
 56 Cross Purposes. 
 
 There was a moment's silence, and then Sara 
 moved slowly toward the door. Donald inter 
 cepted her, took her hands, and said, with eyes 
 humid with feeling: 
 
 " Dearest sister, marry no man unless you love 
 him. That is a sacrifice far too great. Marriage 
 without love ! Who can measure such a sor 
 row, such a degradation ?" 
 
 " Are you in love ? You speak as if you were, 
 Donald." 
 
 " I fear these guests. Lord Lenox " 
 
 " Is too poor. Father thinks not of him." 
 
 "And Mr. Maclane?" 
 
 " Is certainly very rich ; but " 
 
 " But what, Sara ?" 
 
 " Love is not bought in the market-place." 
 And with the open door in her hand, she threw 
 back to him a glance so radiant, so commanding 
 and self-sufficient, that she seemed to stand for a 
 moment in its glory and to make sunshine 
 where she stood.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. 
 
 We do but guess at one another darkly 'mid the strife 
 
 That thickens round us ; in this life of ours 
 
 We are like players, knowing not the powers 
 
 Nor compass of the instruments we vex, 
 
 And by our rash, unskillful hands perplex 
 
 To straining discords." 
 
 " What talk is there of fathers, when there is suck a ma 
 as Orlando ?" 
 
 After his conversation with his sister, Donald 
 took his gun, and passing through the fir-vrood 
 at its narrowest part, was soon on the wild 
 heath bejond it. He was not a keen sportsman, 
 and this morning his solitude was more to him 
 than game. After an hour's tramp, he came 
 suddenly in sight of a grand stag a mighty
 
 58 Undercurrents. 
 
 beast, with a stretch of horns like the half of a 
 cart-wheel. From his nostrils the breath was 
 pouring like smoke, and his great yellow body 
 glistened in the sun. Donald could see the per 
 fect cup of three points surmounting either 
 antler, and the animal's bellowing filled the little 
 corrie with its hollow, angry roar. He could 
 have shot him easily, and for a moment was 
 inclined to do so. " For he is a ten-pointer, il 
 not a royal," he thought, " and it would be some 
 thing of a triumph to take home such a prize a 
 respectable introduction to Lenox and Maclane 
 and father would like it, I know." But he 
 deliberately let the chance pass. " Poor fellow ! 
 Why should I slay him ? He is so eager and 
 happy ;" arid with the thought the gun was 
 lowered. 
 
 The kind act put him into one of his best 
 moods; after it, he had no desire to kill the 
 birds around him. The cock grouse strutted 
 fearlessly with his mate within easy range, and 
 Donald was content to watch the bird's bright
 
 Under cu r rents. 5 g 
 
 crimson comb and rich, brown plumage, and to 
 smile at his lordly attentions to the plainer hen- 
 bird. The whirring creatures did not otherwise 
 stir him ; even the kick-ic-ic of a covey of grouse 
 put no tingle in his fingers. For a good soul 
 has infinite relationships with nature, full of 
 mystery in their beginnings, but leading it to 
 the glow of sacrifice and the ideality of love by 
 ways quite incomprehensible. 
 
 Donald's love made him a better man. 
 Thinking of Roberta, he was always astonished 
 to find himself capable of actions above the 
 usual standard of his life. Thus, in some way, it 
 was Roberta that saved the stag's life, and gave 
 the cock-grouse and his shy mate safety. He 
 was so happy in his love, and yet there appears 
 to be a divine necessity for joining joy and 
 sorrow together. As surely as we climb some 
 mount of happiness, we find that the way of sor 
 row lies parallel with it. Donald was so happy, 
 and yet he was anxious and unhappy ; for Sara's
 
 60 Undercurrents. 
 
 words had only put into tangible form vague 
 suspicions familiar to his heart. 
 
 He perceived that great changes were to take 
 place at Tasmer ; he understood that any 
 change there must, in some way, re-act upon his 
 own life. He was curious, and yet uneasy, 
 about their visitors ; he had an idea that people 
 who were permitted to come in contact with 
 other existences had some message to deliver to 
 them, or some influence to exert upon them. 
 They were to be the touch of fate 
 
 So musing, with Roberta Balfour always as an 
 underlying thought, he wandered until the 
 short winter day began to close. Without 
 being conscious of it, he had instinctively drawn 
 near to the ocean. Forever it called to his 
 soul as a mother calls to her child. In joy or 
 sorrow, in doubt or tremor of any kind, Donald 
 felt its mysterious attraction creep into his 
 blood, and he answered the voice that no one 
 but himself heard. To-night, it was tossing at 
 his feet, and echoing with sounds that said :
 
 Undercurrents. 61 
 
 "Come! Come! Come!" plainly enough to 
 him. 
 
 He turned reluctantly away from the tempta 
 tion ; catching in the gray light the gray sails of 
 the Sea Bird, and feeling an almost irresistible 
 longing to be in her snug cabin on the tide top. 
 The castle was all alight as he emerged from 
 the gloom of the firs ; and a great wood-fire 
 threw shifting lustres and shadows over arms 
 and antlers and thick modern rugs and heavy 
 furniture. In the silver wall-sconces there was 
 also a profusion of light, and Donald wondered, 
 as he went up the usually dim stairway, what 
 motive Sir Rolfe had in such extravagance. 
 
 It had the effect, however, of making him 
 particularly careful as to his own appearance, 
 and if any old thane of Ross could have seen the 
 slim, handsome youth in his broadcloth and fine 
 linen, he must have wondered greatly at his 
 descendant. He found Sara already in the 
 drawing-room, and looking exceedingly beauti 
 ful. Her dress of blue silk added some marvel-
 
 62 Undercurrents. 
 
 ous charm to the dull glow of her hair and the 
 snow and rose of her complexion, and Donald 
 looked at her with a brotherly pride and 
 pleasure. 
 
 They were standing together on the hearth- 
 rug, in a loving, confidential attitude, when Mr. 
 Maclane entered the room. He thought they 
 were the handsomest couple he had ever seen, 
 and he stood still a moment to please himself 
 with the living picture. Then Sara turned, and 
 holding Donald's hand, went forward a few steps 
 to meet him. 
 
 " This is my brother, Mr. Maclane my 
 brother Donald. And what kind of sport have 
 you had, sir ?" 
 
 " I am glad to see you, sir ; and as for sport, 
 Miss Torquil, I think the pleasures of sport are 
 very much overrated. I have been wading 
 through marshes, I have had my feet wet, and 
 shivered up and down hills, and worn myself 
 out with carrying a gun. I have killed three 
 fine cock grouse and a few hens, and I feel like a
 
 Undercurrents. 63 
 
 murderer. I only hope I shall not be asked to 
 eat my victims." 
 
 " That is not the usual way of describing a 
 day's shooting, sir," said Donald, smiling. 
 
 " No, I suppose it is not." 
 
 " Yet 1 have been in thorough sympathy with 
 3-011 to-day. I took my gun to the hills, but I 
 could not make up my mind to destroy life 
 either. The innocent creatures were so happy. 
 If I had fired, I should have felt like an 
 assassin." 
 
 " Come now, I like that and from a young 
 man, too ! I think we are going to be friends, 
 sir." 
 
 He spoke with an air of candor there was no 
 resisting, although he was not what is usually 
 called a handsome or fascinating man. Nature 
 had not carefully finished her work in Andrew 
 Machine ; but he was cast in a noble mold, and 
 the difficulties and struggles of his life had given, 
 combined with intelligent and persevering cul 
 ture, an almost sculptural appearance to features
 
 64 Undercurrents. 
 
 originally not fine. He spoke with the burr, 
 and something also of the homely patois of a 
 man born just south of the Solway, and it was 
 worth while hearing him speak to a fool accord 
 ing to his folly. He had been always engaged 
 in business, and he was now the hand to which 
 a thousand other hands were extended. And 
 yet he had ever found time for communion with 
 books ; indeed, hitherto, he had been fonder of 
 books than of men ; and had made his best 
 friends in the land of shadows, among images of 
 departed heroes and benefactors. 
 
 He was so honest, that Donald understood in 
 five minutes that he was in love with Sara; that 
 it was very likely his first love for woman, and 
 would just as likely be his last. He could not 
 conceal his admiration, although it was blent 
 with a humility which would probably be his 
 worst antagonist ; for what woman ever thought 
 better of a lover for his timidity ? 
 
 As they stood thus together, Sir Rolfe and 
 Lord Lenox entered. Sir Rolfe had a moment's
 
 Undercurrents. 65 
 
 in 
 intense satisfaction in the fine appearance of 
 
 his children. " They are true Torquils," he 
 thought, and he cast a momentary glance at his 
 companion, as if to judge what effect so much 
 personal beauty had upon him. 
 
 But Lord Lenox was not a man easy to rea-.l. 
 He did not permit his countenance to index his 
 emotions, and its general expression was of that 
 complex character which is the natural result of 
 complex civilization. He was the young man of 
 his generation, who had been everywhere, and 
 who could do everything selfish, ambitious, 
 but withal notably good-looking, and possessed 
 of that air of distinction only given by inter 
 course with men on the highest social peaks. 
 Lenox, moreover, was a genuine sportsman. 
 He could imagine no greater pleasure than fol 
 lowing grouse through the heather or waiting 
 for a red stag on the misty mountain tops or 
 putting a fine grilse through its facings, with 
 fifty yards of line. 
 
 Maclane was a different man. The love of
 
 66 Undercurrents. 
 
 the chase inherent in all had in his case been 
 directed toward wealth, power and position. 
 He had neither the natural aptitude nor the 
 physical stay necessary for a recreation that 
 was indeed repugnant to him in other respects. 
 With far greater zest, he turned with Donald to 
 the sea and the boats. 
 
 " If I am to get wet and De untidy, I would 
 rather be wet with fresh salt water than with 
 black moss water," he said, "and I like the 
 swing of the boat far better than tramping about 
 steep hillsides. And then, Donald, there is no 
 necessity to kill anything at sea. It would not 
 be 'sport' to shoot that diver in motley, and her 
 red-breasted swain, or even to bag that ugly, 
 greedy-looking cormorant flapping his dark 
 vans and protruding his long bare neck. 
 Would it ?" 
 
 When Maclane made this remark they were 
 on the Sea Bird, sailing easily before the wind. 
 The mysteries of the northern night were 
 gathering around them, pale-sailed ships vanish-
 
 Undercurrents. 67 
 
 ing- like phantoms beyond the horizon, and along 
 the restless sea shadows everywhere fighting 
 the cold lights falling from moon and stars to 
 pierce and scatter them. The eerie sense of the 
 lonely, ancient ocean, soon grew predominant. 
 The present life became faint; they began to 
 talk solemnly of things beyond it. And it is 
 such subjects that unlock the hearts of men, and 
 make them free of each other's best nature ; for 
 very few are as irreligious as they appear to be. 
 
 Donald was touched by confidence so freely 
 given him by a man many years his senior, and 
 who had proved his manhood by conquering 
 poverty and ignorance and taking his place 
 among the nobles and law-givers of his age. In 
 return, he felt that he must be equally frank, but 
 there was nothing in his young life that 
 appeared worth talking about but Roberta 
 Balfour. 
 
 " My days had been spent in study and play,** 
 he said, " until I met her. She discovered my
 
 68 Undercurrents. 
 
 soul to me. It is only about two months old, I 
 think." 
 
 " Do you think that ? Oh, no, Donald ! If 
 you have really thought on that subject, you 
 must feel that your soul is older than any reck 
 oning. It had no age when it was incarnated. 
 It will have no age when it shall free itself from 
 your mortal vesture. It m wi\\ not grow old in 
 eternity. But let us sail as far as Ellerloch. I 
 would like to see this girl you love so dearly. 
 Is she handsome ?" 
 
 " I think so ; but when one discovers the soul, 
 the body is not much. It is Roberta I love, and 
 yet I am not indifferent to the sweetness of her 
 voice, the charm of her bright face, and the 
 grace of all her motions. Oh, no J Altogether 
 she is perfect. You will agree with me, I am 
 sure." 
 
 "And her father?" 
 
 Donald's face fell a little. 
 
 " He is a good man, I believe that ; but he is 
 quiet and grave, and, I think, a little stern ; more
 
 Undercurrents. 69 ' 
 
 so lately than when I first knew him. I am sure 
 that he understands that I love Roberta." 
 
 " You ought to speak to him, Donald. Set 
 your love in a clear atmosphere the sanction of 
 earth and heaven that is what it asks, and 
 ought to have." 
 
 " Yes, but I am afraid to speak. Did I tell 
 you that Mr. Balfour was a Protestant minister 
 a Free-Kirk minister?" 
 
 "No. A Free-Kirk minister and a Scotch 
 Lowlander. Oh, Donald, I think that will com 
 plicate matters very much. I know the type : 
 ruggedly conscientious and immovable as the 
 Bass Rock about a principle. Balfour is a name 
 among their worthies. Possibly he is of Cove, 
 nanting stock ; and if so, he looks upon the 
 Shorter Catechism as the pillar of immortal 
 salvation and the Magna Charta of Scotland's 
 safety and prosperity. Does he know that you 
 are a Roman Catholic ?" 
 
 " I am not sure. I have not told him, and he 
 is only a stranger in Ross. Four years ago he
 
 70 Undercurrents. 
 
 came from Galloway. In his own rough boun 
 daries, among the shepherds and fishers, he is 
 almost worshiped. He is a better sailor than 
 many of them ; he is a good fisher ; he is a 
 learned scholar. Roberta says he is an eloquent 
 preacher. I never heard him, but I know that 
 he is a good pastor and no mean physician. His 
 people rely on him for help in all their sickness 
 and in all their sorrow." 
 
 " He is a wonderful man, Donald. What is he 
 doing in an obscure Highland parish?" 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! Maclane, it is the obscure 
 parishes that need the wonderful men. Look at 
 Father Contach ! He ought to be a bishop, and 
 he is content to be a priest of Torquil. Don't 
 you think that a poor country priest fighting 
 against the devil in his parish has a nobler and a 
 harder fight than Alexander had?" 
 
 " No one can gainsay you, Donald. But it is 
 the part of honor as well as of duty and pru 
 dence to speak plainly to Mr. Balfour. Roberta
 
 Undercurrents . 7 1 
 
 is his only child ; if he loves her he will surely 
 sacrifice his prejudices to make her happy." 
 
 " She is very dear to him. Will you really go 
 as far as Ellerloch and see him ? You could say 
 much for me that I cannot say for myself. Then, 
 when you have prepared the way, I, also, will 
 speak." 
 
 The proposal was not unpleasant to Maclane. 
 He was happy at sea. He liked Donald's 
 society ; and he was glad of an opportunity to 
 bind the young man to him by some such ser 
 vice. For his own heart was set upon Sara Tor- 
 quil, and he was accustomed to compass all his 
 desires by careful attention to every favorable 
 ally. 
 
 The weather was not unpleasant. There was 
 a young moon riding cold and still beyond the 
 shifting clouds, and there was a bright starlight. 
 In the gray glimmer they sat and talked, while 
 the Sea Bird kept gallantly on .her northern 
 course. Just when there was a streak of lemon 
 in the east, Donald sighted the low, gray manse
 
 7 2 Undercurrents. 
 
 at Ellerloch. Maclane was asleep ; but the 
 lover's heart and longing had kept him awake. 
 
 Simple as Mr. Balfour's life was, it was 
 scarcely possible to call upon him before break 
 fast; and, indeed, Donald hoped he would see 
 the boat, and come to the pier and ask them to 
 take the meal with him. He had frequently 
 done so in the beginning of their friendship ; 
 and, although lately the kindness had been gen 
 erally omitted, Donald never could get over 
 the hope of its renewal. 
 
 Balfour saw the boat. Its fluttering flag was 
 the first thing that met his eyes when he rose. 
 The sight was evidently not one that gave the 
 minister pleasure. His strong, rugged face 
 grew as hard as if it were carved out of granite. 
 But a great nicety about his raiment was one of 
 David Balfour's characteristics, and this morn 
 ing he did not neglect it He brushed every 
 speck of dust from his decent black coat, and 
 threw aside one set of lawn neckbands because 
 they fell short of the immaculate whiteness he
 
 Undercurrents. 73 
 
 demanded. But it was pride in office, rather 
 than personal pride which made him so exacting. 
 He was a servant of the King of Kings, and he 
 felt that it behooved him to be pure in person as 
 in heart. Yet he was much disturbed as he pro 
 ceeded with his toilet. His lips parted continu 
 ally in short ejaculations, regrets, resolves and 
 quotations from The Book. 
 
 " I have always heard that to save a stranger 
 from the sea was to bring calamity on one's own 
 house. It's like it ! What for did I go to the 
 help of yonder youth ? He was neither kith nor 
 kin of mine. Think shame of yourself, David 
 Balfour ! A man in trouble is more than kith or 
 kin. If I have done foolishly, God save me 
 from the harvest of my folly. My trust is in the 
 Hope of Israel, the Saviour thereof in all times 
 of trouble what for am I thinking of trouble? 
 A young man's fancy and a young girl's dream ; 
 that is all of the argument. But it is time it was 
 settled, and I'll settle it this very day, and then
 
 Undercurrents. 
 
 I'll have neither word nor wittens of the matter 
 again." 
 
 To such musings he deliberately dressed him 
 self, neither omitting nor hurrying any of his 
 usual duties. When he entered the parlor, his 
 heart felt that sudden glow of pious gratitude 
 which every one experiences more or less in the 
 actual presence of pleasant and comfortable sur 
 roundings. The fire was a picture in itself. It 
 was in an old-fashioned basket-grate, glowing 
 and blazing and crackling high up above a 
 hearth-stone pipe-clayed white as snow. The 
 brass fender and irons, the bright rug, the round 
 table so prettily laid, the delicious smell of 
 broiled salmon and hot cakes and good coffee 
 the general air of comfort and refinement, filled 
 his soul with a sweet and gracious gratitude. 
 The household Bible lay open upon its stand 
 near his own chair. He went straight to it, and 
 put his hand upon it, and said, softly : 
 
 " Bless the Lord, oh, my soul ; and all that is 
 within me, bless His holy Name !"
 
 Undercurrents. 75 
 
 He was reciting the thanksgiving psalm when 
 Roberta entered the room. Hearing her foot 
 step he finished it, and then turned to meet her. 
 Never had her beauty struck him so forcibly ; 
 perhaps it was at this moment that he first real 
 ized how beautiful she was. Evidently she, also, 
 had seen the Sea Bird. She had put on her best 
 dress, a dark-blue cloth one, with a plain, ample 
 skirt, a tightly-fitting bodice, and narrow bands 
 of white linen at the throat and wrists. She 
 needed no ornaments ; gold bracelets and 
 brooches and rings would have been " barbaric 
 gold " on such an incarnation of vital beauty. 
 She had the dew of her youth, the glow of the 
 fresh, salt air, a color that no words can describe, 
 an air of happiness, of freedom, ol grace, that 
 imparted itself like an atmosphere to the room 
 as soon as she stood within it. 
 
 " Good-morning, father. Here is the Sea Bird 
 again." 
 
 " I have seen it, Roberta." 
 l " Are yu not glad, father ?"
 
 76 Undercurrents. 
 
 " You will be able to take care of yourself 
 with that young man, Roberta ? It is little we 
 know of him; and I am not caring to know 
 more." 
 
 " Father !" 
 
 " One will require to act judiciously, Roberta, 
 with a person coming north with every wind 
 that blows. He'll be having a reason, and when 
 a guest comes with a reason, there will be two 
 sides to it, and we must watch for our own side. 
 That is only prudent and right, Roberta." 
 
 " You have been having bad dreams, father, or 
 you have a touch of rheumatism, or there has 
 been an evil spirit in your sleeping-room whis 
 pering bad, suspicious thoughts in your ear 
 while you were sleeping. I never heard a more 
 unkind observation from you." 
 
 " Answer me this answer me this, Roberta : 
 Whom does young Torquil come here to see? 
 Is it I, or is it you ?" 
 
 " How can I tell ?" 
 
 " Let us have no prevarication. II you were
 
 Undercurrents. 77 
 
 not here, do you think the Sea Bird would 
 come to Ellerlock again? Tell me the truth, 
 Roberta." 
 
 "She might not come so often.** 
 
 " She would not come at alL** 
 
 " I think Donald does like me.*' 
 
 " You know well he likes you. Why think or 
 suppose about the thing you are sure of ? Very 
 well or very ill, more likely why does he 
 not speak to me, as an honest man should, and 
 say : ' I want to marry your daughter, sir ; and 
 I have thus and so, to warrant my offer ?' Why 
 does he not tell me who and what he is? If 
 he wants to marry you, that is the way an 
 honest man would do it." 
 
 " Father, people do not bargain about wives, 
 as they used to do. Money questions are not to 
 be mixed up with love." 
 
 " You are very much mistaken, Roberta. 
 What do you know about love and marriage? 
 Money questions, in one shape or other, are at 
 the foundation of marriage. An honest lover
 
 78 Undercurrents. 
 
 lays this foundation with the father before he 
 talks love with the daughter. If the founda- 
 tion is solid, you may build upon it all the 
 air-castles you fancy. I am not pleased at 
 Donald Torquil's ways. I'll say that plump and 
 plain. And he will have to mend them if he 
 would keep his welcome warm." 
 
 " Do you not think that fathers can be too 
 cautious ? Age and experience may not know 
 everything. I speak respectfully, father." 
 
 " Whoever said that age and experience knew 
 everything ? You will allow, though, that it is 
 very likely fifty-five years may know more 
 than eighteen years ?" 
 
 "Father, we have not had a nice breakfast, 
 and it is your fault ; I was so happy when I saw 
 the Sea Bird. After the exercise do go and 
 meet Donald. If you have had a temptation in 
 the night, give it the back of your hand behind 
 you. Donald is a good young man ; good and 
 true. Go and meet him kindly. It is beginning
 
 Undercurrents. 79 
 
 to rain, and we may have a storm. You cannot 
 shut your door against him, father." 
 
 " Well, well ! I see, Roberta, that you have 
 aried your heart to him ; but you'll mind this : 
 If I find out that he is not a good youth, if he is 
 not fit to be your husband, I will not allow him 
 to speak another word to you. That is as fact 
 as death. I'll no need to say it again." 
 
 Then he arose and called in his household, 
 and read the appointed portion, and sang the 
 proper psalm, and prayed with an unfaltering 
 faith and fervor. His eyes were shining and 
 moist when he rose from his knees, and he 
 spoke kindly to Roberta, as i'.e put on his 
 plaid and hat, and went down to the sea 
 shore. 
 
 The clouds had fallen low, and were beating 
 themselves against the earth in those whiffs of 
 sharp rain so common on the west coast ; and 
 Roberta knew the cabin of the Sea Bird would 
 be damp and uncomfortable. " Then father will 
 be sorry for Donald," she thought, "and he will
 
 8o Undercurrents. 
 
 bring him here ; and I know that I may expect 
 them in half an hour at any rate." 
 
 In much less time she saw them coming, and 
 perceived also with some curiosity that they 
 were accompanied by a stranger. " He looks 
 far older than Donald ; perhaps he is Donald's 
 father ;" and she put more fuel on the fire, and 
 flecked the last speck of dust from the hearth, 
 and ran up-stairs to see if her own hair and collar 
 were in perfect order. By that time, the three 
 gentlemen were in the small hall, and she went 
 to meet them with the flush and light of welcome 
 on her face. 
 
 Greatly to her surprise and pleasure, she per 
 ceived that her father had some knowledge of 
 Mr. Maclane. They had become friends at once, 
 and were soon so deeply interested in their own 
 conversation that Donald easily slipped away 
 irom them to Roberta, who was in a small, light 
 pantry making the pastry for the day's dinner. 
 
 " Father appears delighted to meet your 
 friend, Donald. Are they old acquaintances?"
 
 Undercurrents* 8 1 
 
 " Politically so. Maclane, who is a Member 
 of Parliament, wrote a pamphlet in favor of the 
 Scotch church, when she was in the thick of her 
 late fight with the government ; a very clever 
 pamphlet, indeed, Mr. Balfour thinks. Fancy 
 Maclane writing a pamphlet, or bothering him 
 self about church government, with all else he 
 has to do !" 
 
 " Indeed, Donald, church government is a 
 very important affair. Father gave up one of 
 the finest livings in Scotland on that very ques 
 tion. ' There is in it all the majesty of the Free 
 Kirk/ as somebody said. I hear they have gone 
 into the study, and if father begins to introduce 
 his friends, it may take them all day to get 
 through." 
 
 " Especially as Maclane is a great book-lover 
 also. Oh, Roberta, what a happy day we are 
 going to have !" 
 
 For once fate was kind to all. Mr. Balfour 
 and Mr. Maclane were in perfect harmony. As 
 iron sharpeneth iron, their minds caught light
 
 82 Undercurrents. 
 
 and brilliancy from contact. Book after book 
 was taken from the wealthy shelves and com- 
 mented upon, and though, in the main, their 
 opinions were at one, there were still differences 
 sufficient to give their conversation a brisk and 
 piquant individuality. 
 
 Such intellectual contact was a rare mental 
 treat to Mr. Balfour, and he gave himself up 
 entirely to its enjoyment ; yet, amid all, he had 
 a constant sense of his responsibility regarding 
 Donald Torquil and his daughter. But if it had 
 been difficult to speak hitherto, it was doubly so 
 this day. Before a stranger whom he honored, 
 he could scarcely introduce a subject so per 
 sonal, and one which, perhaps, would have to 
 terminate in an entire withdrawal of his courtesy 
 and friendship from Donald. Such hours of 
 mental refreshment came to him so rarely, he 
 could not bear to mar their harmony, and he 
 resolved to suffer the relationship of the young 
 people to go unchallenged during this visit. 
 
 But no man may put back the hour of fate ;
 
 Undercurrents. 83 
 
 and the knowledge which he had both desired 
 and dreaded was given him in the most uncon 
 scious manner. It was not, however, until the 
 visit was nearly over, and every one of the party 
 had appreciated the enjoyment of thirty hours 
 of such serene and innocent pleasure as rarely 
 comes to mortals. Balfour and Mr. Maclane 
 had expressed their different views on all their 
 favorite topics, and Donald and Roberta had 
 assured themselves, in many a sweet way, how 
 unanimous their opinions were on the one only 
 topic that filled their hearts. They had all 
 enjoyed Roberta's excellent cooking, they had 
 sung some old songs together, and together felt 
 the calm of the evening exercise ; and by thus 
 mingling the joys of sense and soul, had tasted 
 the purest cup of happiness. 
 
 Sweet sleep and a calm breakfast followed the 
 pleasant day, and about ten o'clock they rose to 
 depart The sky was clear, the wind at their 
 back, and the sea had been beaten smooth by 
 the heavy rain.
 
 84 Undercurrents. 
 
 " We shall make a quick trip home," said 
 Donald, his spirits insensibly rising, as he 
 thought of the lively Sea Bird flying before the 
 wind. 
 
 He had Roberta's hand clasped in his own, 
 and they were walking slowly together across 
 the shingle to the small pier. Mr. Balfour and 
 Maclane were a little behind them. They were 
 a trifle quiet and sad. 
 
 " I am sorry to leave you so soon, Balfour, 
 but I shall never forget the day I spent with 
 you." 
 
 " Shall I not see you again before you go to 
 southward?" 
 
 " Not this year. My visit to Sir Rolfe Tor- 
 quii is over ; but it is likely I may rent a shoot 
 ing-range from him next year." 
 
 " Then Donaid's father is a nobleman ?" 
 
 " Has he not told you so ? That is like 
 Donald. Anything that would look like boast 
 ing would be hateful to him. He is a fine 
 fellow."
 
 Undercurrents. 85 
 
 " Still he should have told me. I have a 
 daughter you see that he has won her love ; 
 a baronet may think his son too noble for 
 her!" 
 
 " Miss Balfour outranks any man, I care not 
 what his station." 
 
 " I surely think so. She is the daughter of 
 one of God's ministers, and he is king of kings. 
 I have never heard Donald speak of brothers; 
 is he the only son ?" 
 
 " The only son, and the heir. At present they 
 are not rich, but the estate is large, and can be 
 made very profitable under the new method. 
 The family is a very old one ; the Torquils have 
 been in Ross ' since the floods whateffer,' as one 
 of their gillies told me." 
 
 " I have no skill in these Highland geneal 
 ogies, and I am a stranger in Ross." 
 
 "They have held their own well. I suppose 
 their isolation has saved them, for they have 
 been a restless lot. It took Culloden to cure 
 them."
 
 86 Undercurrents. 
 
 " Culloden cured many restless, troublesome 
 families. They were for the Stuarts, then ?" 
 
 " Rank Jacobites. It was a matter of con 
 science with them. The Stuarts represented 
 Catholicism, so they fought for the Stuarts. As 
 a race, they considered them far from being 
 ' pretty fellows.' The Torquils were too rug 
 gedly brave and honest for any other opinion." 
 
 "Then they are Roman Catholics? They are 
 Roman Catholics at the present time ? Donald 
 Torquil is a Roman Catholic ? Do you mean to 
 tell me these things are so ?" He spoke with a 
 stern decision, and stood still, and looked 
 squarely into Maclane's face for the answer. 
 
 " Certainly, sir. Donald is a very devout 
 Catholic. Without pretense or demonstration, 
 I yet consider him a sincerely religious young 
 man. The fact has struck me very pleasantly. 
 It is a rare characteristic in young men now." 
 
 " I am very sorry. Very sorry, indeed." 
 
 " Sorry that the young man is religious ?" 
 
 "That he is a Roman Catholic. You must
 
 Under cu rren is. 87 
 
 understand this information means a heart-break 
 to my Roberta. He ought to have told us he 
 ought to have told us ! He has behaved very 
 badly. I will not speak to him again. I cannot 
 speak now. Permit me to say farewell to you 
 here, and make what apology you please for me. 
 I will not see the young man now. I must think 
 over the matter. It is a great blow to me, sir." 
 He showed it so plainly, Maclane understood 
 the wisdom of his resolve. He had lost every 
 vestige of color; his eyes were somber and 
 troubled; he could scarcely command his voice. 
 For a moment or two, they stood saying the few 
 courteous words that were all they could say 
 under the circumstances. Donald and Roberta 
 had gone on board ; they were so interested in 
 themselves they had forgotten their companions. 
 'Mr. Balfour pointed out this fact, and turned 
 away with an angry dejection, a look of mingled 
 reproach, fear and sorrow, such as Maclane had 
 never before seen, and which he knew he should 
 never forget.
 
 88 Undercurrents. 
 
 The wretched father went straight to his 
 home. He was angry when he parted with 
 Maclane ; his anger gathered with every moment 
 of Roberta's stay ; and she lingered something 
 longer than was necessary. The fresh wind, the 
 bright morning, the presence of Donald, all 
 tempted her to delay. She also grieved that 
 her father should, for any reason, omit the last 
 courtesy to Donald. Maclane, scarcely know 
 ing how to excuse him, had blundered out some 
 thing concerning a forgotten engagement a 
 thing Roberta did not believe in. So, partly as 
 a compensation to her lover, and partly as a 
 symptom of disapproval to her father, she stayed 
 upon the Sea Bird until Mr. Balfour was well 
 minded to put on his hat and plaid and go and 
 bring her home. 
 
 At this climax of his anger and impatience, 
 she returned. He saw she had been crying ; 
 that she was inclined to be silent and indiffer 
 ent ; that, in short, all her fine spirits and sunny 
 smiles and pretty ways had disappeared with
 
 Undercurrents. 89 
 
 Donald, and he naturally enough resented the 
 secondary place to which he had fallen. 
 
 " What is the matter with you, Roberta?" 
 
 " Nothing, father." 
 
 " Why have you then altered so much ? You 
 were gay enough an hour ago." 
 
 " Circumstances have changed, father." 
 
 " You mean that Donald Torquil is no longer 
 here to be charmed ?" 
 
 " Donald was badly treated. Why did you 
 not come fifty yards further and say good-bye 
 to him ? I was ashamed of you, father ; and I 
 never was ashamed of you before." 
 
 " Never dare to say such words to me again, 
 Roberta. When it is a question between a 
 father and a lover, a good girl will believe her 
 father to be right until she knows he is wrong. 
 You have known me all your life known me 
 intimately ; you have known this youth a few 
 weeks, and that only very slightly whom 
 should you trust first?"
 
 90 Undercurrents. 
 
 14 I hate that Maclane. I am sure he has told 
 you some wicked lies about Donald." 
 
 " He told me that, which if Donald Torquil 
 had been a gentleman, he himself had told me 
 long ago. He told me that Donald is a Roman 
 Catholic ; that his family have always been 
 Roman Catholics Jacobites and Roman Catho 
 lics ! Followers of the bloody Stuarts, and all 
 their tyrannies and abominations !" 
 
 " The Stuarts are dead and gone, all of them. 
 Is Donald to be hated for his ancestors ?" 
 
 " Yes, he is ! If a man is to be honored for 
 his ancestors, just and right also is it that he 
 should be hated for them. Because of what my 
 ancestors did for the Covenant I have honor 
 this day. Because of what Donald's ancestors 
 did against freedom and the kirk of Scotland, he 
 shall have scaith and dishonor this day. Both 
 conclusions are just. If the fathers eat sour 
 grapes, then the teeth of the children must be 
 set on edge. It is the word of the Lord, and I 
 trust that neither I nor bairn of mine will dare
 
 Undercurrents. 91 
 
 to set themselves against the ways of the 
 Almighty's council." 
 
 "What is your meaning, father? Say the 
 straight word to me. I do not want to hear 
 Donald preached about." 
 
 "Do you want the straight, plain word ? 
 You shall have it. It is that you neither shall 
 see nor speak more with that young reprobate." 
 
 " Father ! Can your word make any one 
 reprobate ?" 
 
 " I ask God's pardon. I know not that he is 
 yet reprobate. It may be that His mercy will 
 yet call the lad. But until then you shall 
 neither see him nor speak with him nor write to 
 him. If he had every perfection under the blue 
 heaven and was a Roman Catholic, he should 
 not have you for his wife. No, by the Solemn 
 League and the Holy Covenant, he should 
 not !" 
 
 " ' Though I speak with the tongues of men 
 and angels, though 1 have the gift of prophecy, 
 and understand all mysteries and all knowledge,
 
 "92 Undercurrents. 
 
 though I have all faith so that I could remove 
 mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.' 
 They are not my words, father, and you need 
 not be angry at me for them." 
 
 "You are quoting Scripture, as women 
 always quote it, clean beside the mark. Go to 
 your own room, Miss Balfour, and consider 
 your words and your ways ; for mind this : 
 Nothing, nothing, nothing shall ever make me 
 give a father's welcome to Donald Torquil ! 
 Do you think 1 am going to give the Torquils a 
 chance to count the Balfour martyrs and con 
 fessors among their old papistical, paternoster- 
 ing ancestors? I am not that wicked, I hope." 
 
 " But, father" 
 
 " Go your ways into solitude, and think shame 
 of yourself, Miss Balfour. I have no other 
 word to say to you at this hour."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SARA'S LOVER. 
 
 f 
 
 * I have seen the desire of mine eyes, 
 
 The beginning of love, '' < 
 
 The season of kisses and sighs. 
 
 And the end thereof." 
 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 " Mother most tender, help thy poor child. 
 Haste with thy succor, Maid undefiled ! 
 Amiable Mother, stainless and fair, 
 Take a fair creature into thy care !" 
 
 "Now for a dance before the wind," said 
 Donald, and he laid his hand ^upon the anchor 
 chain, and, with a boy's help, brought it aboard, 
 hand over hand. Then the Sea Bird went flying 
 down the Minch, ducking and plunging to the 
 short rollers. Her sails were wet with the 
 spray showers, and the wind pressed her almost
 
 94 Saras Lover. 
 
 like a solid wall the keen life-laden wind of the 
 wild North Sea while Maclane and Donald 
 experienced an exultation no one can understand 
 who has not felt the glorious sense of freedom 
 and power, that managing- a boat with a brisk 
 breeze and a high sea can give. 
 
 The two men were smoking, both sensible of 
 the cheering, inspiring air about them, and yet 
 both a little thoughtful and silent. Donald had 
 noticed the return of Mr. Balfour, and his heart 
 had experienced one of those sudden premoni 
 tions of coming evil, which the wisest are unable 
 to reason away. He waited a little to see if 
 Maclane would offer any explanation of the cir 
 cumstance, but as he did not do so, Donald 
 abruptly made the inquiry : 
 
 " Why did Mr. Balfour return home without 
 bidding me good-bye ?" 
 
 " We had been talking of you and your family, 
 and I inadvertently alluded to its religion and 
 politics." 
 
 " Was he angry at my religion ?"
 
 Saras Lover. 95 
 
 " At your concealment of it he was angry." 
 
 " I am afraid you have made me a great sor 
 row, Maclane." 
 
 " There is always sorrow in deception, Donald. 
 At the first, you ought to have made all clear. 
 When you sit day after day on a man's hearth 
 stone and win his daughter, he has a right to 
 know exactly what and who you are. Why did 
 you not tell him ? The night that he saved you 
 from the sea and asked you to his home was 
 your fortunate hour. If then he had continued 
 his courtesy, he could not have blamed you ; if, 
 on the contrary, he had made you understand 
 then that your faith and family were insuperable 
 objections to friendship, you, at that time, could 
 have easily resigned yourself to a disappoint 
 ment about Roberta Balfour/" 
 
 " No ; I could not. In the very first hour of 
 our meeting, it would have been impossible to 
 resign her. I hoped to win both father and 
 daughter- so entirely that my family and faith 
 both accidents of birth for which I am not
 
 96 Saras Lover. 
 
 responsible would be accepted with me. How 
 could I imagine they would be less tolerant than 
 myself ?" 
 
 "Then you know nothing of the Lowland 
 Scots. They are all intense theologians. Mat 
 ters of church discipline and government are 
 articles of their salvation, and there is not one of 
 them who would not go to the stake for his own 
 particular views on the subject. This very Mr. 
 Baltour gave up one of the richest churches in 
 Scotland for a quibble in the ecclesiastical court 
 affecting the spiritual authority of the kirk only ; 
 and, though a man of good family and profound 
 scholarship, preferred an isolated parish among 
 illiterate peasants, with his principles, to a 
 wealthy, cultivated one, with some one's else 
 principles." 
 
 " But what have theology and church govern 
 ment to do with my love for Roberta ?" 
 
 " You will find that they have a great deal to 
 do with it. You will have to give up Roberta 
 Balfour, I am sure."
 
 Sara's Lover. 97 
 
 " Never. She may give me up. I shali never, 
 never resign her." 
 
 " I cannot understand why a young man so 
 candid as you are, did not at the first tell Mr. 
 Balfour your real social standing. It was 
 scarcely honorable. He has a right to feel hurt 
 at you." 
 
 " No ; you cannot understand a lover's fears 
 and doubts and hesitations ; his desire to let well 
 alone ; his dread of explanations ; his preference 
 for a delicious uncertainty, not devoid of hope, 
 to a positive position, which might be one of 
 despair. Nor can you understand, perhaps, 
 that I might wish to woo and win Roberta as a 
 simple gentleman. Women are very much 
 influenced by position and by title; I wanted 
 Roberta to accept Donald Torquil ; when she 
 had done so, I intended to tell her what 
 social advantages I could give her with my 
 name." 
 
 " You reasoned like a romantic, inexperienced 
 young man,"
 
 98 Sarcts Lover. 
 
 " It takes a lover to understand a lover," said 
 Donald, and he spoke with some irritation. 
 
 Maclane looked at him kindly, and for a 
 moment there was a shadow of uncertainty in 
 his manner; then he said: 
 
 "Come into the cabin, Donald; I want to 
 tell you something; and the swash of the sea, 
 and the wind blowing the waves, make talking 
 difficult. Now we are more comfortable. You 
 say it takes a lover to understand a lover well, 
 then, I am far more deeply in love than you are. 
 A boy of twenty-two can only love like a boy of 
 twenty-two; a man of forty loves with a 
 strength and passion that only a matured soul 
 can nourish." 
 
 " I might have known it. Who could see 
 Roberta and not " 
 
 "It is not Roberta; be easy, quite easy, on 
 that ground. I shall never be your rival. It is 
 Miss Torquil that I love. All other women 
 seem to me plain and colorless beside heiY 
 
 "Sara?"
 
 Saras Lover. 99 
 
 " Yes, she is the one woman I have ever 
 desired. When you have exhausted words in 
 describing Roberta Balfour, I would not have 
 found a sentence worthy of your sister. In my 
 case, also, it was a love born perfect. The first 
 moment I saw Miss Torquil, I was as much 
 enthralled as I am at this hour; because I loved 
 her then with every capacity of my nature. 
 Now, I did at once what you ought to have 
 done. I asked on the second day of my visit 
 for an interview with Sir Rolfe. I said to him : 
 * Sir, I love Miss Torquil. I can never love her 
 more or love her less than I do now. I desire 
 to marry her. I can give her such and such 
 advantages. I will settle upon her absolutely 
 such and such money and property.' " 
 
 " And what did my father say ?" 
 
 " He answered : ' Mr. Maclane, 1 am obliged 
 by your confidence. I shall be glad to give you 
 my daughter if she is willing to be your wife.' 
 I asked then that he would respect my con-
 
 ioo Sara's Lover. 
 
 fession. I .had your sister to woo, but the way 
 to her favor was so far clear." 
 
 " And I hope, with all my heart, that you will 
 win Sara." 
 
 " I am not easily discouraged, Donald. There 
 are nicks in time which a man has only to be 
 on the watch for, and success is in them. I am 
 not fanciful and unreasonable. I do not expect 
 Miss Torquil to love me after a Byronic or Tom 
 Moore-ish fashion. If I can gain her respect 
 and friendship, I shall feel that I have a noble 
 foundation laid, and I can trust her for her love. 
 A good woman is a generous and a grateful 
 woman ; she will give love for love, if only she 
 be sure of her husband's pure and perfect 
 devotion to her. That is my theory. I can 
 trust it." 
 
 Involuntarily the young man put out his hand, 
 and the elder's closed upon it. Maclane's face 
 was calm and happy ; Donald's eyes were shin 
 ing through tears ; the youth had not yet 
 learned to control his emotions, but his com-
 
 Sards Lover. iof 
 
 panion trusted and respected them. He under 
 stood that this excess of feeling in youth made a 
 tolerant middle-age and a mellow old one. 
 
 " What would you advise me to do, 
 Maclane ?" 
 
 " See Mr. Balfour as soon as you can. You 
 may not succeed in persuading or even in paci 
 fying him, but it is right for you to try. Frankly, 
 I do not think you will succeed." 
 
 " Then, what ?" 
 
 " Can you give up the girl?" 
 
 " If I give up life not unless." 
 
 " There is no such question, Donald. Life is 
 not yours to give up. Let us avoid hyperboles. 
 Does Roberta love you ?" 
 
 " Yes as I love her." 
 
 " Then you cannot give her up. You must 
 wait. Everything comes to those who can 
 wait." 
 
 " Would you tell Sir Rolfe ?" 
 
 " There seems to be no necessity to trouble 
 him with an affair so very uncertain. It should
 
 IO2 Saras Lover. 
 
 be your object to get closer to your father, not 
 to put another disagreement between you ; and 
 he would certainly regard a marriage between 
 you and Roberta Balfour as a very great 
 trial." 
 
 This conversation, varied and extended in all 
 its points, filled with unceasing interest the 
 hours of their sail home. Near Erbusaig they 
 were delayed by mist and squalls coming up 
 through Raasay Sound, and the Sea Bird had to 
 stagger along under double reef until Torquil 
 Harbor was across her bow. Then a long tack 
 had to be made, so that it was the middle of the 
 morning when they cast anchor. 
 
 "It is my last sail for some months," said 
 Maclane. "To-morrow I must go back to busi 
 ness. But I have had a memorable holiday, 
 Donald, though quite a different one from what 
 1 anticipated." 
 
 " You have taken the ocean instead of the 
 hills as a restorer." 
 
 "You must remember I am an inland man,
 
 Saras Lover. icr 
 
 * 
 
 and when I needed recreation, the mountains 
 were the most natural suggestions. But as soon 
 as I saw the sea I knew what I wanted. I must 
 buy a boat of my own, Donald, then we can 
 have some fine racing. I will write to some 
 good builder about one as soon as I get home." 
 
 " Better by far have it built in Ross. They 
 know the kind of boat for these seas. The Sea 
 Bird will keep right side up when a fine fancy 
 yacht will be running wild and going bottom up 
 over her crew. Have a Ross boat for Ross 
 seas; in a storm she'll edge away to windward 
 under a bit of canvas, and bring you safe into 
 harbor. Angus Mackenzie and his father built 
 the Sea Bird, and we launched her to a flowing 
 tide, with her prow foremost. It was Sara who 
 sent her off in the old Gael fashion. She would 
 send yours off, too, I am sure, and then she 
 would take luck with her." 
 
 Maclane smiled. " I should like to see her do 
 it ; I would believe in that luck." 
 
 ' I never saw Sara so beautiful as she was on
 
 IO4 Saras Lover. 
 
 that morning when we launched the Sea Bird. 
 There was a good breeze of wind, and it flut 
 tered her dress and scarf, and she looked so tall 
 and splendid, that I could not help thinking of 
 those old Norse sea-queens that we read so 
 much about in the sagas especially when she 
 stood far out at the bow, and chanted the launch 
 charm : 
 
 " ' from rocks and sands. 
 And barren lands, 
 And ill men's hands, 
 
 Keep free. 
 Well in, well out. 
 With a good shout !' 
 
 "And then the wine was spilt and the men 
 cried, * Off !' and off she went, dancing and cour- 
 tesying like a lady." 
 
 " Very pleasant ; we will have another launch, 
 and Miss Torquil, I hope, will be sea-priestess 
 again, Donald?" 
 
 " I hope so." The words were said upon the 
 door-step, as Fergus set it wide open for their 
 entrance. He looked at both Maclane and
 
 Sara's Lover. 105 
 
 Donald with disapprobation. He understood 
 that Maclane had come to Torquil to shoot ; he 
 regarded shooting as the recreation for gentle- ' 
 men. "Strafaging about the Minch in a small 
 poat wass not respectable whateffer;" and he 
 felt hurt at Donald lowering the tone of their 
 visitors by decoying any one from the hills to 
 the salt-water. 
 
 " Sir Rolfe hass peen seeking you, Maistir 
 Tonalf, and he wass saying, he will pe to seek 
 you, anywhere at all, between Torquil and 
 Stornoway. Ou, ay, people that will be know 
 ing, Maistir Tonalt, say, it iss always the same 
 port the Sea Bird goes for ; they are saying that 
 whateffer. North, ay, north ; I'm seeing that 
 fine mysel'." 
 
 " I hope you have not said so to Sir Rolfe, 
 Fergus. You promised never to look which 
 way I went." 
 
 "A man iss not carin' to shut his eyes too 
 often, Maistir Tonalt, and Father Contach him- 
 self asking me the way. It's no for the like of
 
 106 Sara's Lover. 
 
 me to be telling a real goot man like Father 
 Contach what iss not the truth. He wass at the 
 castle last night, and he wass shaking hands with 
 me, and he wass saying : ' So Maistir Tonalt is 
 on the sea again, and which way iss it he will be 
 taking whateffer, Fergus?'" 
 
 " And you told him ?" 
 
 " I did not tell him, but I will haf to tell him 
 of the lie whateffer at my next confession , and it 
 iss many a time I haf gone round my beads for 
 you alreadty, Maistir Tonalt." 
 
 " Don't be cross, Fergus. What did the Father 
 say ? Or rather, what did you say to him ?" 
 
 " I saidt : ' You will haf to ask himself, Father. 
 They were telling me he wass going north, and 
 they were telling me he wass going south, and 
 some, mirover, were saying it wass to Rona 
 whateffer the Sea Bird flew but I was not 
 knowing myself.' That is what I saidt, and the 
 father looket sharp at me, and he saidt : ' That 
 iss no way to speak, Fergus. If you will pe say 
 ing your prayers to-night and surely you will
 
 Saras Lover. 107 
 
 pe saying ^them maybe, to-morrow, you will 
 pe knowing if it pe to the north or south or west 
 the Sea Bird goes. And so, maybe, if you will 
 pe saying your own prayers, Maistir Tonalt, you 
 will not pe wanting an old man, who hass ferry 
 little time left for praying, to pe telling the lie 
 for you." 
 
 At that hour, life seemed a very dull, hopeless 
 affair to Donald. Mr. Balfour's anger, Father 
 Matthew's suspicions, and the ill-temper of Fer 
 gus, being all knots in the same tangled skein of 
 circumstances. He did not even feel as if Mac- 
 lane's sympathy had been all he might have 
 expected from him, and he began to change his 
 clothing with an utter weariness of the condi 
 tions of his life. For youth is the time when 
 these pallid despairs have their greatest power. 
 Men in mid life know that there are few troubles 
 that are really as bad as they appear to be ; and 
 old men feel that their journey is nearly over, 
 and that no contradiction of sorrow can hurt 
 them very long. So, it is youth that dashes its
 
 io8 Sara's Lover. 
 
 head against the insurmountable wall of circum 
 stances ; when years bring wisdom, the same 
 man will recognize that the wall is the absolute, 
 and he will make a friend of it and walk under 
 its shelter. 
 
 The twenty years' difference in the ages of 
 Maclane and Donald put between them just this 
 difference in their way of looking at life. Mac- 
 lane was as far sympathetic as it was possible for 
 him to be. He remembered, also, his own 
 youthful extravagances of emotion, and watched 
 Donald under the same excesses with a senti 
 ment in which disapproval and envy were curi 
 ously mixed. Loving, perhaps, quite as passion 
 ately as Donald, he was still able to restrain 
 impetuosities which might injure his pretensions, 
 and to affect that wise and calm devotion which 
 was more suitable to his years. 
 
 Yet never a lover's heart beat more warmly 
 and tenderly than his when he perceived that 
 fortune had given him the opportunity he had 
 been watching for. He had made his usual
 
 Sards Lover. 109 
 
 most fastidious toilet and enjoyed the late break 
 fast which Fergus had served him, and then, hav 
 ing lit his cigar, was about to take a walk in the 
 court, when Miss Torquil, glowing with health 
 and beauty, returned from her ride. 
 
 " I have left Lord Lenox on the moor," she 
 said, gayly. " A wing of plover, followed by a 
 pack of grouse, were too much for him or 
 rather, too much for me, for he left me to pur 
 sue them." 
 
 " How could he be so insensible ?" 
 
 " He expected to be insensible. He took his 
 gun with him at least he sent a gilly with it to 
 the Black Cairn. When the two men met, I had 
 not a chance, I assure you. You should have 
 seen their faces ; I feel sure that Lord Lenox 
 was very glad to leave me to the care of my 
 groom." 
 
 Maclane lifted her from the saddle, followed 
 her into the breakfast-parlor, and procured her 
 a cup of coffee. She sat down before the fire 
 to drink it ; and, very soon, they fell into an
 
 no Sards Lover. 
 
 easy conversation about Donald and their recent 
 sail, and Mr. Maclane's near departure. At first 
 it was animated and continuous, but gradually 
 Maclane's intense feeling became only half- 
 veiled, his questions were absently asked, his 
 answers as absently made. Little intervals 
 of silence fell between them. Sara began to be 
 aware of an atmosphere strange and full of fate ; 
 she was anxious to escape from it, and struggling 
 against her sensibility to it, when Maclane 
 spoke : 
 
 " Miss Torquil, I am going away, as you know, 
 to-morrow, but I shall leave all the sweetest and 
 strongest hopes of my life with you. I am sure 
 that you understand this; love, such as mine, 
 must have been divined by its object." 
 
 " I have seen that you think very highly of 
 me. To deny it would be affectation." 
 
 " I love you. I can say no stronger words, if 
 you believe them. I know that I am twenty 
 years older than you are ; but, sincerely, I do not 
 think mere youth is the advantage people affect
 
 Sara's Lover. 1 1 1 
 
 to consider it in a lover. Your great beauty 
 and honorable descent deserve a high social 
 position. I can give it to you. No one shall 
 have a more splendid home and retinue in 
 London ; and there are few country houses in all 
 England to compare with Sarum Court, my resi 
 dence in Lancashire. I will settle ten thousand 
 pounds upon you, to be entirely in your own 
 will and pleasure. I will be a true, honorable 
 and devoted husband to you. If my pleading 
 seems mercenary, remember I must say all that 
 I can for my own cause. I have not youth nor 
 beauty to offer ; love, wealth, honor, high social 
 position, I can give. Will you think over what 
 I have said, Miss Torquil ?"
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SENTENCE SUSPENDED. 
 
 Sara had listened with glowing cheeks and 
 little nervous movements of her hands, occasion 
 ally lifting her eyes to the earnest face regard 
 ing her with such tender entreaty. The honesty 
 and warmth of her lover's appeal were beyond 
 doubt ; and she was far from being insensible to 
 the social advantages Mr. Maclane could give 
 her. Even while he was speaking, she had 
 imagined herself at the head of a splendid 
 London establishment, and a leader in that 
 world of fashion and gayety which environs 
 royalty and political power. She knew, only 
 too well, the miseries of proud poverty, and the 
 compelled acts of shabbiness and meanness that 
 are the results of a want of ready money.
 
 Sentence Suspended. 113 
 
 Donald could have his troop ; her father could 
 make Tasmer all that he dreamed of making it. 
 The restoration of the old church ; the new rec 
 tory for Father Contach ; oh, so many good things 
 were included in the offer she was listening to ! 
 
 And Maclane was pleasant-looking, a gentle 
 man, clever ; with a 'good heart and a generous 
 hand. It was not as if money was all he had to 
 give her. She looked up once, almost with 
 acceptance in her eyes ; but ere the feeling was 
 distinct enough to reveal itself, she remembered 
 the dark, handsome face of Lord Lenox. Not 
 two hours previously, he had said to her : " Do 
 you know why I asked you to ride with me to 
 the Black Cairn? Because I wish to leave my 
 image in every one of your usual haunts. I 
 want you to think of me wherever you are " 
 and the words had been invested with a far 
 tenderer meaning by the way in which he had 
 leaned forward to catch her eyes, by the glow 
 in his own eyes, and by the caressing manner in 
 which he had touched her hand.
 
 j 14 Sentence Suspended. 
 
 Indeed, during his whole visit, Lord Lenox 
 had been hinting in a variety of ways the devo 
 tion which Maclane had expressed so plainly. 
 Lenox was young, noble, fascinating ; she sup 
 posed he was wooing her as gentlemen of his 
 order were accustomed to woo ; and that Mr. 
 Maclane's undisguised statements were equally 
 the natural method of a man accustomed to 
 business, and methodical, straightforward ar 
 rangements. 
 
 So, when he ceased speaking, Sara Torquil 
 met his eyes with a frank yet grave assent to 
 the request he made : 
 
 " I will certainly think of what you have said, 
 Mr. Maclane," she answered. " I do not love 
 you ; I have never thought of marrying you : 
 so much I ought to tell you." 
 
 " But you do not dislike me ?" 
 
 " That would be impossible." 
 
 " And you respect my character as tar as you 
 know and understand it ?" 
 
 " I should do you a great injustice if I did not."
 
 Sentence Suspended. \ 1 5 
 
 "Then I will dare to hope. I am seeking so 
 great a favor that I expect to seek it with 
 patient diligence, and to wait until time brings 
 rne the propitious hour." 
 
 " But I have not promised that time will ever 
 bring it. Remember that, Mr. Maclane." 
 
 " As long as you remain Miss Torquil, I shall 
 dare to hope for and to look for it." 
 
 She had risen and gathered her habit over her 
 arm, and as he said the words, he was walking 
 with her to the (Joor of the room. As he opened 
 it, Donald entered. 
 
 " Oh, Sara !" he cried, hurriedly, " I was look 
 ing for you. They told me you were riding 
 with Lenox, and I was scolding you in my 
 heart." 
 
 "But why, Donald?" 
 
 " Because, whenever I want you you are rid 
 ing with Lenox." 
 
 " Then, why do you not stay at home and ride 
 with me ? Off to sea you go ; you play truant 
 from all hospitable duties ; and not only are you
 
 1 1 6 Sentence Suspended. 
 
 recreant yourself, you make Mr. Maclane quite 
 as bad. I only am left to entertain Lenox ; for 
 father has given himself as a bond-slave to Simon 
 Lovat, I think. What can I do for you ?" 
 
 " Nothing particularly. I wanted to look at 
 you. Do you think I should go to Sir Rolfe's 
 room ? and, oh ! Has he said anything about 
 the Sea Bird? I mean about the usual course 
 she sails ?" 
 
 " You are as bad as a woman, Donald. You 
 put your principal question as a post-query. 
 Now you do not want to see me particularly, 
 nor yet, father; but you do want most particu 
 larly to know if he suspects you of any love- 
 affair somewhere in the neighborhood of the Gair- 
 loch. I do ! I do not believe father does. At 
 present, he cannot understand how a man can 
 care for anything but sheep and birds and red 
 deer." 
 
 " Then I had better see him at once ?" 
 
 " I think you had." 
 
 " What are you going to do, Maclane ?"
 
 Sentence Suspended. 1 1 7 
 
 " I thought of walking down to the village and 
 talking with the Mackenzies about a boat." 
 
 " I am glad of that. If you see Angus, tell 
 him to come up to the castle tell him to leave 
 the fishing and every other thing, and come 
 without fail." 
 
 To Donald's knock, Sir Rolfe, in the half- 
 conscious way of a thoroughly engrossed man, 
 gave the word to enter. He was sitting at a 
 table loaded with papers old parchment deeds, 
 and modern legal cap covered with figures or 
 with one kind of angular, aggressive-looking 
 writing. Simon Lovat sat by his side ; their 
 heads were together over a large map of the 
 estate ; Torquil's fine soldierly figure contrasting 
 in the most marked manner with the keen, puck 
 ered, fox-like face of Lovat, his lean, small form 
 and absorbed manner. 
 
 " Good-morning, Donald ;" and Sir Rolfe lifted 
 from the map his long, finely-shaped white hand, 
 and offered it to his son in an absent manner. 
 " You have been at sea again ?"
 
 1 1 8 Sentence Suspended. 
 
 " I took Mr. Maclane, sir. Maclane likes the 
 sea ; he has just gone to order a boat for him 
 self. As for Lord Lenox, he has the whole moor 
 to range, and he does not seem to care for any 
 other pleasure." 
 
 " Well, well, make the most of your holiday. 
 It will end in a few days. Then you and I have 
 our work laid out for some years ; have we not, 
 Lovat ?" 
 
 " A great work, a very great work, Mr. 
 Donald." 
 
 " Much greater and better, Donald, than 
 idling about barracks and dawdling after royal 
 parades. I know the full value of that life, I am 
 sorry to say." 
 
 " In all you desire I shall be glad to help you, 
 sir." 
 
 " By the bye, what direction were you and 
 Maclane sailing ?" 
 
 " Northward, sir, toward Torridon." 
 
 " Did you see anything of the fishers around 
 Melvich? They have been molesting the Tor-
 
 Sentence Suspended. 119 
 
 quil fishers fighting them on our own waters. 
 Have you heard who this Melvich is ?" 
 
 "No, sir. He is a stranger; he bought the 
 Assynt out. That is all I know of him." 
 
 " Keep your eyes open when you sail north 
 again. If there is more quarreling, I want you 
 to witness it. The Torquils have fished the 
 Ross coast for a thousand years. We will say 
 ' by your leave ' to no one ; more in particular 
 to a man like this Melvich, whom nobody knows. 
 Excuse me now, Donald. 1 must make the 
 most of Mr. Lovat's time. He is obliged to 
 leave Tasmer to-morrow.* 
 
 Thus dismissed, Donald found himself quite 
 at leisure, and he gladly employed the next few 
 hours in thinking of Roberta and in writing to 
 her. Although unaware of the extent of Mr. 
 Balfour's anger, he understood from his abrupt 
 relinquishment of ordinary courtesy that it was 
 extreme. He was anxious to justify himself to 
 Roberta and to explain to her anew the proba 
 bility of a sudden temporary cessation of his
 
 1 20 Sentence Suspended. 
 
 visits. The winter storms were imminent ; any 
 day, the blustering winds and roaring seas of 
 that rock-bound coast might be an insurmount 
 able barrier between them. 
 
 It is always hard to defend one's self against 
 charges not definite, but only suspected. For 
 his want of candor regarding his true position 
 and his religion, Donald was compelled to 
 blame himself, and thus in a manner excuse Mr. 
 Baltour. After two hours' writing, he was very 
 much dissatisfied with the presentation he had 
 made ot his own case ; indeed, he felt that the 
 best thing he could do was to throw himself 
 upon Roberta's love and forgiveness. But 
 although his letter was far from pleasing him, 
 he gave it to Angus with many verbal additions 
 and directions, in case he should be so fortunate 
 as to see Roberta. 
 
 They had gone into the firs to talk over the 
 matter, for it was only at this hour Donald 
 made Angus a confidant. Certainly he had 
 understood why the Sea Bird always set her sail
 
 Sentence Suspended. 1 2 1 
 
 for Ellerloch, and both he and the two boys had 
 frequently seen Roberta Balfour ; but their 
 devotion and respect were so entire that Donald 
 had fully trusted to them. Until he chose to 
 speak, he knew they would all be blind and deaf 
 and dumb ; explanation was now, however, 
 imperative, and Donald made it freely, taking 
 his humble friend completely into his hopes and 
 fears. 
 
 " And you will be one with me, I know, 
 Angus," he concluded ; " for she is a noble girl, 
 and she loves me, and you have seen, also, how 
 beautiful she is." 
 
 " I hai seen her, and I haf not seen her, 
 Maistir Tonalt," Angus answered, with modest 
 courtesy ; " 'twas not for the like of me to be 
 lifting my eyes whateffer to the laaty yourself 
 waas thinking apout. She iss a ferry fine laaty, 
 and I waas hearing, mirover, that she can man 
 age a poat as well as she can manage her father's 
 house. Yes, I haf heardt that. It iss a great
 
 122 Sentence Suspended. 
 
 thing for a young laaty to manage a poat. 
 Inteet it is, praise God !" 
 
 " You must try and give this letter into her 
 own hand, Angus even if you wait a little to 
 do so. And you will mind every word she says 
 and every word the minister says 
 
 " I will care nothing, I will care nothing at all 
 for what the minister will be saying. He iss 
 not of the Ross men. He iss a stranger, and he 
 iss a Protestant mirover, and he is a ferry stern 
 man with his sermons and his reproofs, where 
 there is no needt whateffer. They're saying 
 that ; yes, they are saying that of the minister ; 
 and he iss a Protestant mirover." 
 
 " His daughter is a Protestant also, Angus. 
 There may be good Protestants, you know." 
 
 " Oti, ay ; it iss not the young laaty 's fault no 
 inteet ! It waas her father wouldt be teaching 
 her from the cradle ; and they are saying her 
 father is a great scholar, and so he wouldt be 
 knowing what iss the right way, if he wouldt be 
 walking in it. 'Tis his fault ; you will pe saying
 
 Sentence Suspended. 123 
 
 yourself 'tis his fault, sir. And when you are 
 marrit on Miss Balfour, it iss a goot Catholic 
 Father Contach will be makin* of the laaty, 
 praise God ; for it is an awful thing for people 
 to be marrit together when they are not both 
 goot Catholics ; and iss it not, sir ?" 
 
 " I do not know, Angus," and Donald looked 
 very blankly in his counselor's face. 
 
 During this conversation they had passed to 
 the outskirts of the firs, and were standing 
 together facing the sea. 
 
 " It is very rough, Angus. I do not think you 
 can manage a boat on such a sea," said Donald. 
 
 " The windt is fair, and I will not be carin' 
 for the sea." 
 
 " You will try and give the letter into Miss 
 Balfour's own hands ?" 
 
 " Yes, I will give it into her own hands ; and I 
 will see aal and I will hear aal, and I will say 
 nothing to anger the minister ; and the tefil him 
 self cannot be finding fault with a dumb man. I 
 will be going ; even now I will be going."
 
 124 
 
 Sentence Suspended. 
 
 " I shall be miserable until you get back,. 
 Angus." 
 
 " There is no needt, there is no needt what- 
 effer. If you will pe lookin' for goot, then goot 
 will pe comin' to you. Yes, inteet, praise 
 Godl"
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A LOVE-LETTER. 
 
 i 
 
 *' Love's reason's without reason." - v 
 
 " Let determined things to destiny 
 Hold unbewail'd their way." 
 
 t 
 44 A woman's thought runs before her actions." 
 
 " Spirits are not finely 
 Touched but to fine issues." 
 
 All at once, the usually delayed winter settled 
 down upon the desolate land and sea. Scarcely 
 a week had passed since Donald sent Angus to 
 Ellerloch, and Tasmer had almost the air of 
 some enchanted castle, so lonely and silent so 
 shut off from the world of thought and action 
 was it. Mr. Maclane and Lord Lenox, with
 
 126 A Love- Letter. 
 
 their servants, and also the additional servants 
 their presence made necessary at Tasmer, were 
 all gone. The halls were silent, and many of 
 the rooms closed, for Sir Rolfe had resolutely 
 cut down the regular expenses to the barest 
 demands of anything like a comfortable life. 
 
 To Sara he had excused his economy on the 
 ground of her own anticipated visit to her aunt, 
 Lady Moidart. 
 
 " The expenses of a short season in London 
 will be very great," he said ; " for if you go with 
 Lady Moidart you must have everything requis 
 ite for your position. I desire you to be inde 
 pendent of all favors from the Moidart family, 
 whom I always disliked." 
 
 " Lady Moidart is my mother's sister, father." 
 
 " True ; and equally true, that she was never 
 tired of reproaching your mother for mari-ying 
 a poor soldier with a shadowy baronetcy. But 
 you must see London life, and she is the natural 
 and proper person to introduce you to it." 
 
 If economy were necessary for this purpose,
 
 A Love-Letter* 127 
 
 Sara was willing to be economical. She had 
 the natural desire of a young and beautiful 
 woman, for society, and she wished to see if 
 society were indeed the fascinating thing she 
 had imagined it, from such remarks as had 
 fallen from their late visitors. Also, she was 
 anxious to see Lord Lenox again. Although he 
 had made her no distinct profession of love, he 
 had told her in a way no woman ever misinter 
 prets, that she was beautiful in his eyes, and 
 dear to his heart. She could not forget, espe 
 cially, how tenderly he had held her hand at 
 parting, and how his dark eyes had sought in 
 her eyes some answering sign of her affection. 
 At that time there had been no word spoken 
 regarding her visit with Lady Moidart to 
 London the invitation having arrived after his 
 departure and she pleased herself with a 
 thousand fancies of their meeting in society, and 
 of Lenox's proud and happy surprise. 
 
 She was even glad that he did not know 
 she was so soon to make a part of his own
 
 128 A Love-Letter. 
 
 world. She thought, with smiles, of meeting 
 him suddenly in some triumph of the ball 
 room ; or when riding in the Row ; or in her 
 box at the opera. She arranged the meeting to 
 suit her own desires, in every possible way, and 
 under every conceivable circumstance, and she 
 was happier in such dreaming than in any of the 
 actual events of life around her. 
 
 It is true, none of them were very exciting. 
 The household had been reduced to a couple of 
 women in the kitchen, a chambermaid and a 
 laundress ; Fergus, as usual, acting as steward 
 and attending to the table. Tasmer was 
 environed by great white moors and a black 
 tossing ocean. Visiting was impossible, and to 
 keep warm and pass the time as comfortably as 
 might be, seemed the only visible object of life. 
 Donald was moody and restless and inclined to 
 solitude. He told Sara he was anxious about 
 his future, which was a true enough statement, 
 though Sara thought of it in one way, and 
 Donald in another. She imagined his anxiety
 
 A Love-Letter. 129 
 
 referred to the plans which Sir Rolfe was per 
 fecting in the seclusion of his own room, and 
 which Donald was expected to assist in carry 
 ing out Donald knew that his main care 
 referred to the success of the mission on which 
 he had sent Angus Mackenzie. 
 
 Angus had been nearly a week away, and 
 every day had been a separate week to Donald. 
 He was angry at the wind and the waves and 
 the black sky ; he felt as if nature herself were 
 hostile to him. Sometimes he was angry at 
 Angus, and the unreason of his anger made it no 
 easier to control. On the afternoon of the sixth 
 day, however, he saw the returning boat, and he 
 went down to the village to meet it. It was 
 hard tor the sturdy little craft to make the 
 harbor, for the wind was about southeast, and a 
 good blow of it. But Angus kept her broad, 
 square stern at right angles to the traveling 
 wave, and fighting his way slowly, lunged 
 forward into smooth water. But it was a nasty 
 day ; a waste of gray below, and a waste of
 
 130 A Love-Letter. 
 
 gray above, and a thick smurr of rain between. 
 " A little shoory," as Angus said, throwing off 
 his oil-skins, and turning his kind, handsome 
 face to Donald, who was sitting on Helen 
 Mackenzie's hearth-stone. She was hurrying 
 forward a cup of tea and a bannock and herring 
 for her hungry, wet son ; but she understood 
 that there were " whisht words " between the 
 young men, and as soon as the meal was ready, 
 she took her knitting and went into a neighbor's 
 cottage. 
 
 Then Donald said : " You have had a hard 
 time, I fear, Angus." 
 
 " I haf had a hard time, sir. The windt wass 
 never steady ; it wass sweeping the sea in heavy 
 squalls, with but ferry little rest between them ; 
 the poat herself wass glat when we got under 
 the landt. There was a man wrapped up in oil 
 skins on the pier, and he said to me : ' You was 
 hafing a hardt fight whateffer, and I was waiting 
 here to see if you would be wanting help ; and 
 where will you be coming from in such
 
 A Love-Letter. 131 
 
 weather . v he says, ferry kindly. Then I saw it 
 \vass the minister, and he wass knowing me also, 
 and when he was speaking again it wass not so 
 kindt. ' And what are you coming here for, 
 Angus Mackenzie?' he asked me. I saidt: 
 ' There is no shame in my coming here whateSer, 
 Maistir Balfour. I haf brought a letter from the 
 young Laird of Torquil to your daughter, sir.' 
 'And iss that it?' he asked. 'Then come with 
 me. And were you seeing anything of Mr 
 Maclane since a few days?' Ferry sifil he wass, 
 and I said I wass not seeing nothing apout him 
 for a week, nor more than that ; and I wass hear 
 ing he hadt gone back to the south whateffer ; 
 and he saidt no more till we were in the house, 
 and it was in my oil-skins he took me into the 
 parlor." 
 
 " Then you saw Miss Balfour?" 
 
 " She was sitting in the parlor, and she wass 
 sewing her white seam, mirover, and when the 
 minister saidt : * Here is Angus Mackenzie with 
 a letter from young Torquil,' she lifted her head
 
 132 A Love-Letter. 
 
 as quick as a flash of lightning. And I took the 
 letter from my pocket, and wass going to gif it 
 to her, but the minister, he stept forward more 
 quick than I can tell you, and he took the letter 
 from me and he put it in the blazing fire ; and he 
 stoodt before the fire and he lookedtat Miss Bal- 
 four with his lips tight shut and his face as white 
 as a mortal corpse." 
 
 " Oh, Angus ! Angus !" 
 
 " And it wass not my fault ; no, it wass not my 
 fault" 
 
 " What did Miss Balfour say ?" 
 
 " She let her work fall down, and she stoodt 
 up with her face blazing, and she wass in a 
 tremple all ofer ; and it wass almost in a whisper 
 she saidt : 'Father! How cruel, how wicket 
 that iss !' Ferry angry he spoke up : 'It iss kindt, 
 it iss goot, it iss right, what I haf done, and I 
 haf done it pefore your eyes. 1 might have got 
 the letter from the man, and nefer told you that 
 a letter came ; but 1 will be honest with you, and 
 I will show you and him, too, that I will not hal
 
 A Love-Letter. 133 
 
 you no, nor myself readt any letter that Ton- 
 alt Torquil writes. Now, Angus Mackenzie, you 
 go to the kitchen and they will gif you meat and 
 trink.' " 
 
 " And did Miss Balfour manage to see you in 
 the kitchen?" 
 
 " It wass not in his house, sir, I wass going to 
 stay, after the insult ; and ferry quick I wass 
 telling him that. 'I will not set in your house 
 whateffer sir, nor take a trink of coldt water in 
 it. No, inteet ! for I am the Torquil's poor 
 cousin, and his insult iss my insult; and it iss 
 your white hairs and your plack coat will be 
 safin' you this morning.' And what else couldt 
 I pe saying ? There was nothing else. You 
 will be knowing that fine yourself, sir." 
 
 " Oh, Angus, I wanted a word from her 1 I 
 wanted a word so much !" 
 
 " Wass you thinking, sir, I wouldt be coming 
 with no word in my mouth or in my hand ? No, 
 inteet! Praise God, Angus Mackenzie can 
 make a new way, if the olt way will not pe a goot
 
 134 -A Love-Letter. 
 
 way ;" and with a beaming face he took from 
 his pocket the desired letter. 
 
 Donald was too happy to speak. The white 
 message in his open hand thrilled him with 
 delight. He anticipated the happy hour when 
 he should be able to read it, and there was even 
 a kind of luxury in postponing the joy until soli 
 tude could give it the last and sweetest charm. 
 And for the present he held it fast in his hand 
 and saw his own name in the free, clear writing 
 he knew so well. It was in pencil, however, and 
 as he looked at it he perceived that it was 
 unsealed. Angus saw the flitting shadow of 
 surprise on Donald's face, and he answered it : 
 
 " She wass saying some ferry pretty wordts 
 about the seal : ' Tell Angus Mackenzie I haf 
 no wax, but it will pe sealed safe with his honor.' 
 And you will be knowing, sir, that them are the 
 true wordts whateffer?" 
 
 " True as truth, Angus. Wax might be 
 broken ; your honor is beyond doubt. But how 
 did you get the letter ?"
 
 A Love-Letter. 135 
 
 " A man is not carin' to be treated thon way. 
 I wass mat at the minister, and I thought, as I 
 left his house at my pack, there will pe a Mac 
 kenzie somewhere in the village ; for, praise 
 God, the Mackenzies are all ofer Ross whateffer ; 
 and the ferry first cottage I came to wass Rose 
 Mackenzie's ; and she was glat to see me. What 
 for no, when I came from Torquil, and she wass 
 porn and pred in the place whateffer? And I 
 wass welcome on her hearth, and she gave me 
 pread and a cup of tea, and I toldt her how the 
 young Torquil hadt peen insulted py the strange 
 man from the south, and she wass mat, too, and 
 she saidt : ' I will pe taking the stockings I haf 
 peen knitting, to the minister, and I will pe see 
 ing Miss Balfour, and if you haf a wordt to send 
 her, it will pe going safe and secret in my mouth.' 
 So I toldt her to tell the young laaty that ' my 
 poat wouldt leafe that day, and yet it wouldt not 
 leafe that day. I was going down the coast for 
 eight miles to Locherrol, and there I wouldt 
 leafe the boat and walk pack to Rose Mac-
 
 136 A Love-Letter. 
 
 kenzie's for the letter, if she wouldt pe hafing one 
 for me to carry to the Torquil.' That wass the 
 way I got the letter. It wass by Rose she sent 
 it, also the pretty wordts apout my honor; and 
 I will nefer pe forgetting them, nefer." 
 
 " What do you think of Mr. Balfour, Angus ? 
 If I go and see him, will he listen to me?" 
 
 " They are saying he is a shentleman, and so 
 he will listen to you, if you will pe speaking to 
 him ; put he will not pe doing anything you 
 will pe asking him. Oh, 'tis sure as the tide 
 flowing ! He will not pe doing anything at all. 
 And he will not pe trusting his daughter, for 
 it wass neither pen nor ink she couldt findt in 
 the house, and the wax was in his own pocket ; 
 but, praise God, he had not mindt of the laaty's 
 drawing-pencils, and the pencils and the honor 
 of Angus Mackenzie wass enough. They are 
 saying that he iss a ferry goot man, and a ferry 
 powerful preacher, whateffer, and he has written 
 some goot pooks; but he will standt between
 
 A Love-Letter. 137 
 
 you and his daughter till the day nefer come 
 nefer that iss what I am thinking." 
 
 Donald would have gladly prolonged the con 
 versation ; he was ready to ask over and over 
 how Roberta looked, what she wore, and what 
 she was doing. As to the few words she spoke, 
 he made Angus repeat them many times. But 
 Angus was very tired. He had had but little 
 sleep for a week, and the comfort of the fire 
 and the sense of being at last off watch, was too 
 much for the exhausted youth. He was soon 
 fast asleep, and Donald, with the precious letter 
 in his possession, not unwillingly left him to his 
 much needed rest. 
 
 In some respects, Roberta's letter was every 
 thing a lover could desire, in others, it troubled 
 him greatly ; for she did not fear to face cir 
 cumstances which he had persistently put away 
 from his consciousness. Frankly confessing her 
 love, solemnly declaring that she would marry 
 no man but him, she yet pointed out how 
 unlikely any marriage between them was.
 
 138 A Love-Letter. 
 
 " My father is not more determined to separate us than 
 your father will be, so soon as he knows of our affection. 
 Dearest Donald, love cannot be good if it makes sorrow and 
 sin ; for love is meant in some way to make us better, not 
 worse. Oh, yes, it is meant to make us better, even if it be 
 by the sad discipline of self-denial. My duty to my father 
 is an old and a dear duty. He has been father and mother 
 both to me, and I love him as he loves me. When he seems 
 to be unkind or despotic, I know that he punishes himself 
 more than he punishes me. This is a matter of conscience 
 with him, and I am sure that he will never change. To 
 spare my life, or his own life, he will not take back one word 
 of his decision. I feel sure Sir Rolfe Torquil will be equally 
 stubborn. What hope for us remains then ? If you aban 
 doned your faith, I should despise you. I should say, if 
 Donald is recreant to his religion, how can I trust his affec 
 tion ? It is quite certain that I shall stand firm in the faith 
 which I have been baptized in. One day, perhaps, you may 
 be your own master, and I be left without any one to control 
 my actions ; but dare we think of such a possibility ? We 
 should be wicked indeed, if we did not tremble to enter the 
 gates which death set wide for love." 
 
 Much more in the same tenor Roberta wrote ; 
 mingling the bitter words with sweet ones, and 
 yet firmly refusing to encourage hopes which 
 could lead to nothing but misery. " Such love 
 is mockery," said Donald ; " why should we be
 
 The Love-Letter. 139 
 
 permitted to meet, only that we may love and 
 suffer? It is an irony of fate." And then, with 
 strange, sweet, sorrowful power, Roberta's 
 words stole through his memory, and frightened 
 him : " Love is meant to make us better, even 
 if it be by the sad discipline of self-denial." 
 
 As he was musing on this subject, a servant 
 brought a message from his sister. They were 
 to dine alone, she said, and she had ordered the 
 meal to be served in her own parlor ; and would 
 Mr. Donald please not to keep the fish waiting? 
 
 Sara was in unusual spirits. Two or three 
 things had happened which pleased her ; and 
 she was desirous to talk about them. Donald 
 was generally her confidant ; she was almost 
 glad when Sir Rolfe decided to eat his dinner in 
 his own room. There was something delightful 
 in discussing pleasant events over a nice dinner, 
 and she reflected that Donald was always appre 
 ciative of fine fish and perfectly cooked grouse, 
 and delicate dessert. Few men are not so, even 
 under depressing love-affairs, and the young
 
 J4O The Love-Letter. 
 
 man's face brightened at the sight of the cheerily 
 lit room, the elegant table and the beautiful girl 
 %vho welcomed him. 
 
 The pleasant meal over, Donald and Sara 
 turned their chairs to the fireside. 
 
 " I have had two very agreeable things hap 
 pen to me this afternoon, Donald ; father gave 
 me the key ot mother's laces grandmother's 
 will go to your wife, he says these are some 
 ol them ;" and she lifted some flounces from a 
 work-basket at her side. " 1 was darning them a 
 iittle ; are they not lovely ?" 
 
 " They look very yellow." 
 
 " Barbarian ! That is part of their loveliness. 
 Look at this pattern. It is the crown and lilies, 
 and was lost at the French Revolution. I assure 
 you it is priceless. I am to have her jewelry, 
 also, when I go to London. I wonder if it is 
 liandsome?" 
 
 For a moment, Donald's thoughts went back 
 to the mother he could just remember. He had 
 one or two sacred memories of her which he
 
 The Love- Letter. 141 
 
 never named, but jewels did not make any part 
 of them. 
 
 " I never saw mother in jewels," he said. 
 " She seemed always to wear a white dress, and 
 to be lying on a sofa. Poor mother ! She was 
 so young to die, 1 think father must have missed 
 her very much. Why has he not come down 
 stairs to dinner ?" 
 
 " He is not very well ; but he was good to me 
 about my London visit this morning. I am to 
 have five hundred pounds, and more if 1 require 
 it. I understand, though, Donald, that he 
 intends this to be my first and last season. I am 
 to have my chance, dear, and I am expected to 
 make the most of it to marry, and to marry 
 well, Donald." 
 
 " When are you going?" 
 
 " I had a letter from Aunt Moidart this morrr- 
 ing. She thinks I had better come to her as 
 soon as possible. In another month, the roads 
 will be blocked with snow or else be roaring 
 torrents,"
 
 142 The Love-Letter. 
 
 " Not quite as bad as that. I shall miss you, 
 Sara." 
 
 " I hope you Will, dear. However, father 
 intends to keep you very busy. There has been 
 a large correspondence opened, and you are to 
 attend to it. I heard Lovat and father saying 
 that." 
 
 ** Is Lovat coming back soon ?" 
 
 " No ; he has Lord Lenox's affairs to attend to 
 now.'* 
 
 " Why does he trouble himself about so many 
 sick estates? I should be afraid of the man. 
 No doubt he has his own interests to attend to, 
 also." 
 
 " I think you are mistaken. Simon Lovat is a 
 character. He takes his proper fee, of course ; 
 but he really finds the keenest pleasure in turn 
 ing poor estates into rich ones. He loves 
 money because it is money. He loves to see it 
 increase. He expects a piece of land as big as 
 my pocket-handkerchiet to do its duty and add 
 to the rent-roll. Father says Lovat cannot hear
 
 A Love-Letter* 143 
 
 a large sum of money mentioned without having 
 a palpitation of his heart. When he counts 
 gold or notes, his face flushes like a girl's. 1 
 suppose he has the same pleasure in bringing 
 riches out of poverty as a doctor has in a 
 desperate case, or a soldier in a forlorn hope." 
 
 " It is the love of chase in us, Sara. All men 
 have the passion in some form or other. Even 
 in our high civilization we are constantly exhib 
 iting the stealthy or cruel instincts of ancestors, 
 who were, both as regards men and animals, 
 ' mighty hunters before the Lord' or the 
 devil." 
 
 " We are wandering from our subject, which 
 was London. I suppose this season may decide 
 my fate, Donald." 
 
 " Don't be in a hurry, Sara. Girls are so apt 
 to take their first offer, and it is very often a bad 
 one." 
 
 " Do you think so? I have had my first offer, 
 Donald and refused it at least, I suppose it 
 was a refusal."
 
 144 -A Love-Letter. 
 
 " Oh ! It was Lenox, I dare say. I am glad 
 you refused him. I always thought him mean 
 enough, and he is simply devoted to himself." 
 
 " You are mistaken every way. It was Mr. 
 Maclane who honored me." 
 
 "Indeed, then, it was an honor. Surely you 
 did not refuse him?" And Donald, having 
 mmCt of his friend's confidence in him, listened 
 anxiously for her answer. 
 
 " 1 do not love him. What is love ? Were 
 you ever in love, Donald ? Do poets and novel 
 ists tell the truth about it ? If so, I am not in 
 love with Mr. Maclane, and I told him so." 
 
 " Did that settle the matter?" 
 
 " No. He said he would be satisfied with my 
 respect and friendship. He thought respect 
 and friendship a safe foundation for marriage. 
 Do you, Donald?" 
 
 " It might be only, Sara, if if, after marriage, 
 you should meet the one you could love, you 
 would feel as if you had turned the key on
 
 A Love-Letter. 145 
 
 your own happiness and you must stand outside 
 of it forever. That would be dreadful." 
 
 At this moment Father Matthew Contach 
 entered the room. 
 
 " My children," he said, " can I sit beside you 
 for a little while ?" 
 
 They made room for him joyfully ; but it was 
 not many minutes ere Sara saw that he was 
 troubled, and she said : 
 
 " Something has grieved you, dear Father?" 
 
 "There is trouble in the village, Sara. I 
 came up to see Sir Rolfe about it ; came 
 through the rain, hoping to spare some hearts 
 an anxiety ; but Sir Rolfe will say nothing on 
 the subject to me. He is not ready to speak 
 yet, he says, and surely he is not bound to do so 
 until he is fully persuaded in his own mind ; 
 but when the heart is sad hours are so long. I 
 thought to end suspense, that was all. Well, 
 Sara, and so you are going to London ?" 
 
 Then he put away all his depression and 
 listened with interest and pleasure to all the
 
 146 A Love-Letter. 
 
 hopes of the gay, glad girl ; now and then, as 
 it seemed wise and kind, reminding her of the 
 duties that must not be forgotten. Indeed, his 
 interest in Lady Moidart's letters, in the season s 
 promises, in the great people and great festivals 
 of the world so far removed from him, appeared 
 so keen and sympathetic, that Donald felt a 
 kind of sorrow in the seclusion of a man so 
 learned, so splendidly manly, and yet so Christ- 
 like ; and with the impulsiveness and want of 
 tact common in youth he ventured a remark 
 which implied this feeling. 
 
 Father Matthew neither resented nor denied 
 the supposition. He looked thoughtful for a 
 few moments, and then answered : 
 
 " I think, Donald, that all priests feel some 
 times the weight of the cross which they have 
 voluntarily lifted, and which they cheerfully 
 bear in the main. Christ felt His cross heavy. 
 As for myself, I never regret such moments of 
 weariness ; they are only momentary, and from 
 them the soul triumphantly rises.
 
 The Love-Letter. 
 
 '47 
 
 * ' The cross is strength ; the solemn cross is gain. 
 The cross is Jesu's breast. 
 Here giveth He the rest 
 That to His best beloved doth still remain.' "
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FATHER AND SON. 
 
 *' We sowed the seed and reap'd the grain, with thankful 
 
 hearts and kind ; 
 
 Our cattle grazed upon the hill that rose our homes behind ; 
 And so we dwelt in peace and rest for many a changing 
 
 year ; 
 
 Not rich, but riches never made a home so doubly dear. 
 The spirit of the olden times, that blazed so bright of 
 
 yore. 
 
 Had died away, And no one spoke of faith or honor more ; 
 And the race that for a thousand years had dwelt within the 
 
 glen, 
 Were rudely summoned from their homes, to beg as broken 
 
 men." 
 
 It was a day of extreme winter gloom and 
 storm. In Tasmer there was nothing to be done 
 except to submit to the tyranny of the elements, 
 and to make the best of such sources of comfort
 
 Father and Son. 149 
 
 and amusement as were to be obtained within 
 the castle. Sara was in London, and Sir Rolfe 
 had been for two weeks the subject of singular 
 mental indecision or conflict. He had rather 
 avoided than sought his son's society ; and 
 Donald noticed that the work to which he had 
 been so earnestly devoted was entirely 
 neglected. The papers and estimates lay upon 
 a table in his room, but he did not refer to them 
 in any way when they were together. 
 
 Their companionship had not been very cheer 
 ful. The two men had no subjects of mutual, 
 engrossing interest ; and each was aware of a 
 certain lack of confidence in the other. As far 
 as Sir Rolfe was concerned, the lack was pain 
 ful to him. He had looked forward with pleas 
 ure to the hour when he might make his son his 
 coadjutor and friend. Their work had been 
 laid out for these very two weeks in which he 
 had felt compelled to stand still, and unable 
 to solicit either the confidence of help of 
 Donald.
 
 150 Father and Son. 
 
 Father Matthew was the man that troubled 
 Torquil. On that wet night, when he had 
 walked up to Tasmer through the storm to 
 reason with him, he had said some words which 
 had made Sir Rolfe very uncomfortable about 
 his projects. Since then the worldly element 
 and the religious element had been having a 
 fierce struggle in his heart. He was not a man 
 able to stand between two opinions, if the opin 
 ions were of any moment to him ; and he was 
 sure that until he was quite persuaded in his 
 own mind, he would never succeed in carrying 
 out his wishes. 
 
 So the papers lay upon the table, and he 
 walked up and down and argued with con 
 science. He was much also in the oratory ; his 
 regular religious duties did not satisfy his 
 spiritual scruples ; he had imposed special obser 
 vances upon himself. But the truth was, he 
 looked not for direction ; he did not want to 
 know what to do. He had made up his mind 
 what to do, and he was vainly trying to stumble
 
 Father and Son. 151 
 
 upon something which would justify his course 
 to his own heart. And he had two weeks of 
 uncertainty, and of specious reasoning, ere he 
 came to the moment in which he said firmly, and 
 without a shadow of regret : 
 
 " I will do it. A man's first duty is to those of 
 his own household." 
 
 The decision was arrived at early in the morn. 
 He had just risen from his prayers. He was in 
 the clearest and calmest of mental moods. He 
 was devoid of all irritations, physical and 
 domestic. The resolution sprung up in a 
 moment, matured, firm, certain. No pity, no 
 doubt, troubled the new-born conclusion. He 
 was surprised they ever should have done so. 
 He wondered where such weakness had come 
 from, and equally where it had gone to. Alas! 
 It is not always the angel can strive. There 
 comes a moment when a man is permitted to 
 take his own way. 
 
 He walked to the table and put his hand upon 
 the plan of the Tasmer estate. Never had he
 
 152 Father and Son. 
 
 opened it with such pride and affection. He 
 spread it wide, and stood looking at it. Nothing 
 else was required to confirm all his will. He 
 was even conscious of a sudden and quite 
 remarkable access of pride in his heritage, and 
 of affection for the honors pertaining to so long 
 a succession. The gloom of the day, the storm 
 raging on the ocean below him, the wailing of 
 the great winds through the firs, added a somber 
 grandeur to the moment, and in some way made 
 a sympathetic atmosphere of the stern realities 
 of his thoughts. 
 
 After breakfast he sent for his son ; and Donald 
 knew as soon as he entered the room, that some 
 decisive hour had arrived. Sir Rolfe was stand 
 ing on the hearth, and he looked as he might 
 have looked when he kept the Kyber Pass with 
 a handful of men around him and only two 
 words in his mouth "No surrender" He put 
 out his fine white hand and clasped Donald's 
 hand, hard and brown with handling of oars and 
 the tan ot the salt sea wind.
 
 Father and Son. 153 
 
 " Good morning, Donald. I want to talk with 
 you. I have come to a point in which I need 
 your help. Let us sit down." 
 
 His manner was affectionate, but tinged with 
 an air of authority which Donald always found 
 it difficult to resist. He walked to the table, 
 took from it the Tasmer map and laid it open on 
 a small stand between them. Donald was well 
 acquainted with the history of the family, and 
 Sir Rolfe touched no longer upon it than he 
 judged necessary to rouse the younger man's 
 pride and interest. But he spoke more fully and 
 feelingly on the poverty of the house during 
 the past four generations. 
 
 " If we had only been sensible and declared 
 for the German house in A. D. 1745, we had 
 been Earls of Ross," he said, with some bitter 
 ness. 
 
 " They that were before us, father, did the 
 duty of their day. You and I would have done 
 the same." 
 
 *' I should never have gone with the Stuarts."
 
 154 Father and Son. 
 
 " The Stuarts, however unworthily, repre 
 sented the true faith. You would have ranged 
 yourself on that side, I am sure, father." 
 
 " Let the Stuarts pass. The family we have to 
 consider is the Torquils. We are poor, and we 
 ought to be rich. We have a rental of six thou 
 sand pounds, and we ought, in bare honesty to 
 ourselves, to have a rental of twenty thousand 
 pounds. The rental ought to increase every 
 year. If we follow out Simon Lovat's plans, we 
 shall be rich in ten years. We may become a 
 political power, and by a judicious selection of 
 party and persons, recover our earldom. Then 
 we will rebuild Eilan Donan and rule in Kintail 
 as our fathers did." 
 
 Donald was young and enthusiastic, and his 
 bright, eager face answered the steady glow of 
 enthusiasm which made Sir Rolfe potent enough 
 to realize all his ambition. 
 
 " Examine this map, Donald. Glen Mohr can 
 be rented to Maclane for two thousand pounds a 
 year. Torquil woods for nearly an equal sum.
 
 Father and Son. 155 
 
 All the moors and hills back of them must be 
 put under sheep. Tasmer braes will alone feed 
 a flock of three thousand." 
 
 "The people of Easter-Torquil have always 
 grazed their cattle on the braes. Will your plan 
 interfere with them ?" 
 
 " They will interfere with me ; very seriously 
 interfere with me ; and I intend to resume my 
 rights this year." 
 
 " Have they not, also, some rights in the 
 braes ?" 
 
 " None whatever. Each cotter rents from me 
 his house, and five to ten acres of land ; he rents 
 year by year. Some foolish Torquil permitted 
 them to graze their cattle and sheep on the 
 braes, and they have gone on doing so, until they 
 take as a right what was originally a favor. I 
 want the braes for my own sheep now." 
 
 " I am afraid they will think your resumption 
 of the land very unkind in fact, a great wrong." 
 
 " 1 am prepared lor that. At the first whisper 
 of my intention, they took their grievance to
 
 156 Father and Son. 
 
 Father Contach. Greatly to my surprise, he 
 stands with them ; and he came up here one 
 night came through a rain-storm to make me 
 very uncomfortable. Since then, I have fully 
 considered the course I intend to pursue, and I 
 have satisfied myself that I am doing quite 
 right." 
 
 " If they refuse to give up grazing their cattle 
 on the braes ?" 
 
 " I shall then refuse to rent them cottages and 
 crofts. They acknowledge that the grazing 
 claim is contingent upon the possession of the 
 crofts and cottages which I rent them. Very 
 
 well, then ; I shall not rent them cottages " 
 
 
 
 " But, father, they have lived in Eastern-Tor- 
 quil as long as we have lived in Tasmer. They 
 bear our name. They share our blood. Their 
 ancestors stood by ours through many a cen 
 tury. But for their bravery, the Macdonalds 
 had long ago driven us from our lands." 
 
 " The Macdonalds have to mind the law now." 
 " Ay ; but the Macdonalds burned us out in
 
 Father and Son. 157 
 
 1539. It was under Donald Gorm. Then the 
 bravery of these men's ancestors won back our 
 house and land." 
 
 " The Torquil led them, sir. They were his 
 clan by inheritance, bound to follow him, bound 
 to fight for him." 
 
 " Nay, lather, the clans were originally owners- 
 in-common of the soil of their native district. 
 They elected their chief. Even down to the 
 days of Culloden the clans enrolled themselves 
 under one or other of their feudal nobility, as 
 they preferred. They always had a right in 
 the land which their arms conquered and 
 preserved." 
 
 " You are going too far back, Donald. It is a 
 far cry even to Culloden. We are talking of 
 the nineteenth century." 
 
 "Justice is not altered by the lapse of time." 
 
 " Donald, I can allow a great deal for the 
 romantic notions of a young man, but I have not 
 the inclination to discuss questions which affect 
 us no more than what is going on in Jupiter. It
 
 158 Father and Son. 
 
 will be your business to call together the 
 crofters of Torquil and Easter-Torquil, and also 
 the ten families in Glen Mohr, and try and 
 induce them to return peaceably the land so long 
 loaned them. They must be made to under 
 stand that there is no law in Scotland to prevent 
 my resuming possession of my crofts and 
 cottages, and, consequently, of all grazing 
 privileges." 
 
 " If they refuse ?" 
 
 " They must leave this part of the country. 
 That is the only alternative. The whole of 
 Tasmer is going under sheep, except the deer 
 forests. I should prefer to have them leave. 
 Indeed, I do not see what the people in Easter- 
 Torquil can do else. They are not fishers, and 
 without grazing-land they cannot be farmers. 
 As soon as the weather permits, I wish you to 
 see them. Explain the matter as kindly as pos 
 sible, but let them understand clearly nothing can 
 alter my intentions. The tie between us must
 
 Father and Son. 159 
 
 be broken, but I wish it broken as gently as 
 possible." 
 
 <: I am sorry to disobey you, father, but there 
 is absolutely nothing in life which would make 
 me tell an honest, pious, hard-working Torquil 
 to leave the land." 
 
 " Do you think you are wiser and better than 
 all the Highland gentlemen who have followed, 
 or who are about to follow this course ? Tor 
 quil braes will carry three thousand black-faced 
 wedders, but how can I feed my sheep if every 
 cotter in Torquil puts his also on them ? Prop 
 erty has its rights, Donald." 
 
 " Property has its duties, also, father. How 
 could I go and tell Rory Mackenzie to take his 
 twenty sheep off the braes ? The thing is impos 
 sible 1" 
 
 " Well, sir, then the sheriff must do your duty. 
 He may do it less kindly, but your pride and 
 feelings will be spared." 
 
 " Even as a matter of prudence, father " 
 
 " What do you know of prudence ? Lovat's
 
 160 Father and Son. 
 
 maxim is the true one in this case when it will 
 pay a landlord to turn cultivated land into a 
 sheep-run, or a deer forest, the land never ought 
 to have been cultivated at all. You know well 
 how much there is to do every winter for the 
 cottagers. They are cold, hungry, sick, and it is 
 to the Torquii they come. The situation is 
 demoralizing to them, and unjust to me. It is 
 high time we stepped out of the middle ages." 
 
 " But there should be some preparation, 
 some " 
 
 " Donald, there is nothing more tiresome than 
 a man who persists in making a dead idea of 
 himself." 
 
 " Are justice, kindness, honesty, dead ideas ?" 
 
 " Feudal chivalry and romantic self-denial are. 
 Lord Macdonald has banished the peasants of 
 Sollas at sword-point. Colonel Gordon removed 
 every crofter from Barra and Uist by legal pro 
 cess. Breadalbane has turned thirty thousand 
 of his acres in Glenorchy into a hunting-park. 
 Sutherland, Argyle and Athol are doing the
 
 Father and Son. 161 
 
 same thing on their estates, on a much larger 
 scale. When an age grasps an idea and resolves 
 to carry it out, it is ridiculous to champion one 
 m antagonism to it. I have a right to expect 
 your help in carrying out plans which are so 
 important, not only to yourself, but which 
 embody the welfare of those who are to follow 
 you. In our position, it is a shame to only con 
 sider personal likes and dislikes. A true noble 
 man looks backward and forward both ; only 
 the peasant soul begins and ends all controver 
 sies with and in himself." 
 
 He spoke with an air of grieved melancholy, 
 and Donald felt unable to put into speech the 
 passions which made such a turmoil in his 
 breast. Perhaps indignation that he had been 
 selected as the tool of oppression was the most 
 dominant feeling. He had spent a part of 
 nearly every year of his life at Tasmer; he had 
 visited in the cottages, been petted by the old 
 men and women, gone on the hills with the 
 hunters, been taken by the fishermen in their
 
 1 6* Father and Son. 
 
 boats. Sir Rolfe, who had been educated in a 
 French seminary, and passed from it into the 
 army, had no such intimate knowledge of the 
 Torquil peasants. To him they were simply 
 tenants, with some very indefinite and undesira 
 ble claim upon him because of relationships in 
 the past ; and in his heart he regarded this claim 
 as far more of a nuisance than a pleasure. A 
 tenantry of peasants who were not Torquils, 
 who would treat him with less affection and 
 more subservience, would much better suit that 
 taste for power which military authority had 
 developed in him. 
 
 Yet, in deputing the task of warning the 
 people of the new order of things to Donald, 
 Sir Rolfe had no desire to shirk unpleasantness 
 for himself. He could have sent the factor as 
 his representative, but he really wished to give 
 a more kindly air to what he knew was an 
 unkind proceeding, and also to divest the move 
 ment of that element of law so offensive to the 
 Highlandman. He wanted his own way peace-
 
 Father and Son. 163 
 
 ably, and he believed that Donald would not be 
 opposed, where the factor or sheriff might come 
 very badly off. Donald, however, was stubborn 
 in his opposition. 
 
 " If this sorrow must come to our people," he 
 said, " do not make me the bearer of it. I 
 cannot do it, sir. I might, indeed, deliver your 
 words to these poor friends oi mine ; but if they 
 wept, I should weep with them, and if they 
 were angry, my heart would burn with theirs." 
 
 " Some fathers would bitterly resent such a 
 speech, sir. 1 have been much among young 
 men. I know their illusions and affectations, 
 their impulsiveness and assurance, their quixotic 
 ideas of generosity and equity. Twenty years 
 old has a standard of right and wrong which 
 belongs to twenty years. At fifty you will 
 smile at your own folly, and be very grateful to 
 me ior the decided step I am taking to-day. 
 Take the world as it is, sir, and not as it ought 
 to be in your opinion. You are probably wrong
 
 164 Father and Son. 
 
 on every point, if you can imagine yourself 
 wrong." 
 
 " Father, if what you say is true, and Tasmer 
 can really be made so wealthy, why not let the 
 Torquils and Mackenzies remain and help and 
 share in the new developments. Call them 
 together; tell them as you have told me, what 
 the forests and moors can be rented for. Build 
 on the seaside, where land is worth nothing, new 
 cottages for those who must remove from the 
 hills. Out of the increased rental, surely a com 
 pensation could be given them. There must be 
 some way ot getting all this good, without doing 
 all this evil." 
 
 " Donald, in your nurse's arms you cried for 
 the moon. You are crying for it again, and you 
 are as likely to get it in this case, as you were in 
 the first." 
 
 " Then excuse me, this morning, sir. I will 
 think over what you have said. To-morrow 1 
 will give you an answer." 
 
 " The best answer, the shortest answer, is
 
 Father and Son. 
 
 165 
 
 doing the thing you are asked to do. Let me 
 assure you, I shall not change my purpose. If 
 you agree to work with me, I shall be glad ; if 
 not, Lovat and I are both determined. That 
 which two will takes effect. Good morning, 
 sir."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FATHER MATTHEW FOR THE PEOPLE. 
 
 Donald's dismission was curt and authorita 
 tive, and he showed plainly his sense of offence 
 in it. He saw that his opposition had but con 
 firmed Sir Rolfe in his intentions. He feared 
 that he had spoken unwisely ; perhaps he ought 
 to have temporized, have yielded a little here, in 
 order that he might have gained a little there ; 
 that, in short, compromise would have served 
 the interests of all better than reproaches and 
 opposition. But a young man of twenty-two, 
 who knows how to arrange his cloak to suit the 
 wind, is simply not a young man at all. 
 
 He went with burning cheeks and uplifted 
 head through the long, shivery passages, and 
 down the gloomy stairs. There was a fire burn-
 
 Father Matthew for the People. 167 
 
 ing in the main hall, but the sticks were green 
 and wet, and Fergus was growling at the wrong 
 wind and the damp air, as he tried in various 
 ways to coax the smoke up the wide chimney. 
 
 " There is not a screen nor a draught to please 
 the fire this morning, whateffer. It iss out, it 
 will haf to go. A fire that will not burn ; it is 
 out, it will have to go. No fire at all will be 
 better than one that iss smoking." 
 
 Donald scarcely answered the old man, but 
 his words made an unpleasant impression on 
 him. People in trouble and perplexity are apt 
 to go back to augury and to take as oracles first 
 utterances and signs. So, Donald felt that as no 
 screen or draught would make the fire burn, no 
 entreaties or arguments would make Sir Rolfe 
 feel as he felt. The fire would have to be put 
 out. He would have to give up his efforts. 
 And, if no fire was better than smoke, so, also, 
 silence would be better than hopeless quar 
 reling. 
 
 Something like this train of thought was in
 
 1 68 Father Matthew for the People. 
 
 his mind ; but, as yet, his mind was only a whirl 
 of angry and sorrowful thoughts. He longed 
 for Sara. She was not clever, and she did not 
 always agree with him, but they talked together 
 on terms of familiar confidence. While reason 
 ing with her he was really reasoning with him 
 self, and he generally felt satisfied and composed 
 after talking over any event with her. But, 
 Sara was not only far away, she was engrossed, 
 altogether engrossed, by the brilliant life she 
 was leading. He took her last letter and 
 re-read it. Fine dress, fine entertainments, rich 
 and noble lovers, these were its topics ; and 
 Donald felt how useless it would be to trouble 
 her gay hours with his own perplexities and 
 sorrows. 
 
 The carry of the storm was directly north 
 ward ; he stood mournfully at the window and 
 watched it. The rain, driven furiously before a 
 mad wind, was streaming through the air in dis 
 ordered ranks ; the clouds were flying rapidly 
 in great grotesque masses, touching the tops of
 
 Father Matthew for the People. 1 69 
 
 the fir-trees like a gloomy veil ; the black ocean 
 was tossing and raging as if a battle were going 
 on among its billows. His thoughts, fleeter 
 than the wind, yet troubled as the waters, flew 
 swiftly to the small gray manse at Ellerloch. 
 How well he could see the girl he loved in it ! 
 Her handsome face grave 'and tender with 
 thoughts of him. Her slim, tall figure, her busy 
 hands, her pleasant voice not he who raised 
 the shade of Helen had a greater power than 
 this true lover, for he thought of Roberta until 
 she seemed present with him; until the thought 
 like an actual presence soothed and comforted 
 him. 
 
 The letter brought by Angus had been his 
 last communication from her. For two weeks 
 he had been unable to send any message ; the 
 wind had been so constantly adverse, that even 
 Angus had been afraid to risk the journey. But 
 Donald was not troubled by any of the doubts 
 or silly jealousies that some lovers delight in 
 encouraging. He trusted Roberta as he trusted
 
 J 70 Father Matthew for the People. 
 
 himself. He knew that she understood how 
 rare and precious communication must be ; and 
 it had been decided that letters by the ordinary 
 mail would be useless and irritating- the village 
 postmaster being a deacon in Mr. Balfour's 
 church a man who neither for gold nor pity 
 would favor love disallowed by a parent on 
 such religious grounds. 
 
 Still he did write to her. It was impossible 
 to bind affection so strong in bands of silence. 
 He told her of his love, his hopes and doubts 
 and loneliness, in long, long epistles, which were 
 dated and put away, until the happy oppor 
 tunity came for sending them. Angus was 
 watching for it ; he had the precious packet in 
 his possession ; the boat was ready to slip her 
 anchor at the first flurry of favorable wind, and 
 toward sundown there appeared a prospect of 
 it. In the west there was a streak of crimson ; 
 the wind had fallen and shifted southerly ; the 
 rain was nearly over. Donald hastily finished 
 the letter in hand, and went down to the village
 
 Father Matthew for the People. 171 
 
 to give it to Angus, for he thought it likely he 
 could leave with the turn of the tide. 
 
 He fancied that Helen Mackenzie received 
 him with constraint ; that even Angus was not 
 quite like himself. How could he expect it, if 
 they had heard of Sir Rolfe's intentions? And 
 how were they to know that he was not to 
 blame in the matter ? Yet he could not defend 
 himself without blaming Sir Rolfe, and he did 
 not dare, without good reason, to hurry any 
 such justification. On his return to the castle, 
 he called at the rectory to see Father Contach, 
 for Helen Mackenzie's coolness wounded him 
 very much, and he felt the need of comfort and 
 advice. 
 
 The father heard him silently and patiently, 
 his white, intellectual face growing finer as hs 
 listened. Once, when Donald alluded to the 
 removal of the whole people, his cheeks crim 
 soned, but he instantly laid his hand over the 
 cross upon his breast, and suffered not himself 
 to speak. Indeed, after Donald had ceased, the
 
 I 72 Father Matthew for the People. 
 
 silence was for some minutes unbroken; but 
 the young man understood the pause, and 
 communed solemnly with his own heart during it. 
 With a sigh, Father Matthew lifted his head 
 and looked at Donald. He sympathized keenly 
 with his sense of shame and wrong, but it was 
 
 r- 
 
 his duty to assume the calmness he was very far 
 from feeling. 
 
 " My son, what is your anger about ?" he 
 asked. " Because you are likely to be spoken 
 evil of when you do not deserve it. It is 
 indeed, mortifying to your sensitive nature, but 
 one of the best penances which the heart can 
 offer is to endure a continual cross and abnega 
 tion of self-love." 
 
 " Is it right for me to be made the tool of 
 oppression ? No ; I will not disgrace my 
 manhood by turning these people out ol their 
 homes. They have as much right to them as I 
 have." 
 
 " Stop, Donald. Can they show any legal 
 right to them ? Alas ! No."
 
 Father Matthew for the People. 173 
 
 " Because they trusted to the Torquil, they 
 have the moral right. Is not that sufficient ?" 
 
 " If this earth were Heaven, if God's kingdom 
 had come, if His will were done, the moral right 
 would be the strongest of all rights." 
 
 " I cannot rest, Father. Helen Mackenzie has 
 made me thoroughly miserable. Come with me 
 to Tasmer, and speak to Sir Rolfe for me." 
 
 " Yes ; I will go. I have spoken once. I will 
 speak again. I did not think the matter was to 
 be hurried on so rapidly." 
 
 " The families in Easter-Torquil are to be 
 warned to leave at Whitsuntide. There are 
 thirty-six families, numbering nearly two hun 
 dred people ; what is to become of them ? Per 
 haps I ought to speak to them ; will they give 
 up the grazing if I ask them?" 
 
 " They cannot live without grazing-land. 
 They have not the sea to help them when the 
 soil fails. To refuse them grazing is virtually to 
 expel them from their cottages and crofts.
 
 1 74 Father Matthew for the People. 
 
 There is no need to serve them with a notice of 
 dispossession." 
 
 " I know, and they are our own race and 
 blood. They won the lands we call ours to-day. 
 Father, you must prevent this great wrong. Sir 
 Rolfe is at present under the influence of Simon 
 Lovat ; he is not hard-hearted. He loves piety 
 and virtue. He will listen to you who are his 
 guide and confessor." 
 
 " Alas, my son ! They who listen not to the 
 witness which is within every man's breast are 
 not likely to heed either the law or the proph 
 ets ; no, nor yet listen, though one came from 
 the dead. I hope that you were patient and 
 respectful to Sir Rolfe ; reproaches will only 
 make him more determined to carry out his 
 plans in spite of you." 
 
 " I was angry, but I said little. It was hard to 
 be patient, and I fear I shall not be able to 
 restrain myself when we speak again." 
 
 " Hide the cross of our Lord within your
 
 Father Matthew for the People. i 75 
 
 breast. As long as you firmly clasp it in your 
 hand, surely the enemy will be at your feet." 
 
 As he spoke they left the rectory together. 
 The night was dark and the walk was not a cheer 
 ful one. The drops of rain from the firs wet 
 them like a shower, and the wind ran through 
 the old trees with those pitiful, sinister wails it 
 learns one knows not where. The old gray 
 castle looked unusually gloomy. There was the 
 dull glow of the fire in the parlor, but all the 
 windows up-stairs, except those in the Torquil's 
 room, were blank and dark. Fergus was long 
 in coming to open the door. He had been in the 
 kitchen discussing with the women the strange, 
 sad news which had only just become known to 
 them. When he saw Father Matthew, he prob 
 ably divined on what errand of mercy he had 
 come ; for he looked into his face and then sud 
 denly covered his eyes and began to cry like a 
 child. 
 
 Donald could not bear it. He bent his head, 
 and his mouth was twitching with suppressed
 
 1 76 Father Matthew for the People. 
 
 emotion. He did not wait to hear what request 
 the old man was making amid his passionate 
 sobs. He knew that he had daughters and 
 grandchildren in Easter-Torquil, and that his 
 son farmed and fished in the village below ; and 
 he understood the anxiety and fear that were in 
 his heart. But he would not wait to hear it 
 voiced, lest he should speak words that he might 
 regret ; and so, lifting a candle hastily, he went 
 to his room. The fire had been allowed to go 
 out. Donald never remembered such inatten 
 tion before. It said more to him than any words 
 of complaint could have done. Fergus must 
 indeed have been utterly miserable to neglect a 
 duty so necessary to his comfort. 
 
 Indeed, Fergus had never before known such 
 sorrow. The Celt has many faults, but he has a 
 heart overflowing with the tenderest domestic 
 affections. He, of all fathers on the earth, can 
 best understand that passionate wish of Hebrew 
 parental woe " Oh, my son ! Would to God 
 that I had died for thee 1" Fergus could not
 
 Father Matthew for the People. 177 
 
 endure the thought of his children and their 
 babies wanderers, seeking a home. He felt 
 that at least he must share their sorrow and 
 desolation ; and yet he had been fifty years in 
 Tasmer, and it was no light personal grief to 
 break bonds of such long growth, and to forsake 
 the roof that had been, in the main, such a happy 
 shelter. 
 
 He said not a word of this condition of affairs, 
 but the almost childlike condition of helplessness 
 and griel in the old man's face was sufficient. 
 Father Matthew understood it all, and the good 
 priest went into the presence of the master of 
 Tasmer with a heart burning with just anger. 
 Sir Rolfe was sitting brooding over the fire. 
 Occasionally he lifted his eyes to the open door 
 of the oratory, whispering, when he did so, some 
 audible prayer ; for in the faintly lit gloom the 
 great white cross was solemnly visible. 
 
 It was the first object that met Father Mat 
 thew's vision, and with a rapid step he passed 
 Sir Rolfe, and for a few moments silently pros-
 
 j 78 Father Matthew for the People. 
 
 trated himself in that silent presence. His face 
 was almost as pale as the lifted cross when he 
 re-entered the room and set his chair upon the 
 hearth, and Sir Rolfe was compelled to notice 
 the intense feeling in the usually placid coun 
 tenance. 
 
 The subject was immediately opened, and 
 with an indisputable affection and authority, the 
 priest pleaded for his little congregation. He 
 went over the arguments which Donald had 
 suggested but not dared to press. He spoke of 
 the Highlander's intense love for his own land. 
 
 " They cling to these bens and straths like 
 Alpine trees to their rocks," he said. " How can 
 you tear up whole families by their roots, and 
 put the torch to so many happy, pious little 
 homes? They are dear to them as Tasmer is to 
 you. Is not one little Highland child worth all 
 the land in Kintail and Lochaber? You are a 
 soldier, Sir Rolfe. You know what the High 
 land soldier is. You have seen the 42d and the 
 93d in battle. They have possessed and defended
 
 Father Matthew for the People. 1 79 
 
 these mountains from immemorial time. They 
 have filled the world with the glory of their 
 deeds. Have pity on your comrades in arms ! 
 They are the children of the Most High. Have 
 pity upon those who kneel at the same altar 
 with you ?" 
 
 " Father, I have thought of all these things. 
 The past is past. We are come to an entirely 
 new era of development. The law of progress 
 is that it must tread under foot feelings hitherto 
 held sacred. These people have lived in semi- 
 barbarism and been content with it. When the 
 eagle thinks it time for her young to take to 
 their own wings and provide for themselves, 
 she tears up the nest. I, and you, have seen the 
 wise birds do it. If I now destroy these anti 
 quated huts, and send their inhabitants into the 
 world, they will learn that life has objects and 
 hopes, yes, and pleasures, they had not dreamed 
 of. In a few years they will thank me. I can 
 wait for my justification." 
 
 " You will send them from the pure, healthy
 
 1 80 Father Matthew for the People. 
 
 life of these ancient hills, to the great cities, 
 where disease, degradation, poverty and death 
 await them. The oldest men and women among 
 them are but children simple, pious children. 
 They are not fit for the world. Have pity on 
 them !" 
 
 " If any wish to go to Canada, I will do all I 
 can to help them." 
 
 "Are you able to send them all together 
 there ?" 
 
 "The idea is absurd. I might help some 
 young, strong fellow, who was able to make 
 good use of help ; but " 
 
 " Then you would only further break to 
 pieces the shattered homes. William Rufus 
 brought on himself a violent death and the exe 
 cration of centuries for depopulating the New 
 Forest in order to make a hunting-park. That 
 was an act done in days of cruelty and darkness. 
 You and other Highland gentlemen, in an age 
 of high civilization, are about to turn ten coun 
 ties over to wild animals. Very soon, it will be
 
 Father Matthew for the People. 181 
 
 forests from the south border of Perthshire to 
 the sea-board of Ross. From Deeside to Spey- 
 side we shall find nothing but deer; no men, no 
 women, no children, no homes." 
 
 " Father, I do not interfere in your affairs." 
 
 " But you would have the right to interfere 
 in them if I were to violate my duty as you are 
 now violating yours. Every peasant in Torquil 
 would have the right to call me to account." 
 
 " Listen to me. There is right on my side, 
 also." 
 
 " Surely, I will listen." 
 
 " I have immense deer forests. Hitherto they 
 have been lying idle. I can make six thousand 
 pounds a year out of them alone. Have I not 
 the right to make it ?" 
 
 " What harm do the few crofters do on the 
 fringe of these forests?" 
 
 " They are forever quarreling with game 
 keepers, and forever claiming rights on the hills 
 which disturb the deer. These shooting-ranges 
 will be let entirely to rich Englishmen. They
 
 1 82 Father Matthew for the People. 
 
 have none of our traditional interest in the 
 peasantry and the clans ; but they have all an 
 Englishman's ideas with regard to the sacred- 
 ness of property. They will not rent a shooting 
 unless these troublesome peasants, with their 
 antiquated notions of their own dignity and 
 rights, are removed. Father, your ideas would 
 disorganize society; they are simply socialistic." 
 
 " And I am a socialist in the sense in which 
 Christ Jesus taught socialism. So is every 
 priest at the altar. So is every religieuse in our 
 fraternities and sisterhoods. He allowed only 
 one claim to power : that of a man serving his 
 fellows. ' Let him that would be first among 
 you be servant of all.' " 
 
 "You are my friend, my counselor and my 
 confessor. In matters of piety I defer entirely 
 to you. In worldly matters, Father, you are not 
 able to judge for me. Are you not in the world, 
 yet not of the world ? A living man, and yet, aa 
 regards all that makes daily life, a dead man ?" 
 
 " No, no, no ! It is you, Sir Rolfe, that are
 
 Father Matthew for the People. 183 
 
 dead." Then, passing quickly to within the 
 door of the oratory, he stretched out his arms to 
 the Christ upon the cross, and cried out in an 
 ecstasy: "/ live ; yet not /, but Christ liveth in 
 me/" 
 
 Sir Rolfe was profoundly affected, but he was 
 not convinced. He rose, and taking the priest's 
 hands said humbly : 
 
 " Do not judge me with severity. My inten 
 tions are good. I have heard you say there is 
 no sin without intention. One of the dearest 
 objects I have is to rebuild and to beautify the 
 church at Torquil." 
 
 " Alas ! Alas ! Can you give stone and mor 
 tar as a ransom for the souls of men ? For the 
 living stones you are going to pull down and 
 break in pieces and scatter abroad ?" 
 
 He went away with the words ; leaving the 
 master of Tasmer to ponder the solemn question 
 he had asked.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE MINISTER'S INTERFERENCE. 
 
 " Love gives esteem, and then he gives desert ; he either 
 finds equality or makes it." 
 
 " To ,be heavenly is to know that the commonest relations, 
 the most vulgar duties, are God's commands." 
 
 " Respect we owe, love we give, and men mostly would 
 rather give than pay." 
 
 There are times in every life when it seems 
 best to cease reasoning about events, and let cir 
 cumstances decide for us. Sara Torquil, after 
 some weeks of triumphant social success, and 
 private heart-aching, doubts and fears, came one 
 morning in a certain way to this conclusion. 
 Her entrance into London fashionable life had 
 been made under very favorable circumstances.
 
 The Ministers Interference. 185 
 
 Lady Moidart belonged to a set the most exclu 
 sive, and her radiantly lovely niece was at once 
 the fashionable beauty ol the season. When she 
 arrived in London she iound her advent had 
 been chronicled in somewhat extravagant terms, 
 and she could not help looking with a great deal 
 of interest through the number of the Court 
 Journal which had done her this honor. 
 
 She saw also in it a mention of Lord Lenox's 
 movements ; it was quite evident he was taking 
 his full share in the festivities of the world in 
 which he moved. Her cheeks glowed and her 
 eyes grew luminous as she reflected that he 
 would in all probability learn that morning of 
 her arrival in London. He was a favorite of 
 Lady Moidart's, and accustomed to visit at her 
 house ; she was, therefore, certain that he would 
 call upon them at once. 
 
 With the greatest care she arrayed herself in 
 the pale-blue tints he approved, and which cer 
 tainly gave a marvelous charm to the exquisite 
 coloring of her complexion and the crown of red-
 
 i86 The Ministers Interference. 
 
 brown hair which was a glory to her. So rest 
 less, so happy with expectation was she ! Yet 
 she forced herself to sit with apparent calmness 
 at her embroidery frame forced herself to 
 attend to Lady Moidart's plans, and even to 
 take an interest in them, though she was listen 
 ing with all her soul, at every clang of the 
 door-bell, tor the sound of steps, which, how 
 ever light upon the thick carpets, she was cer 
 tain she would be able to detect. 
 
 Many visitors came, but Lenox came not. 
 Hour after hour passed, the whole da} 7 went, 
 the evening also. He did not call, and he did 
 not send either an apology or a message of con 
 gratulation. Lady Moidart never noticed the 
 omission. It appeared to Sara as if she talked 
 of every one but Lord Lenox. For a whole 
 week she endured this silent alternation of hope 
 and despair. Every morning brought the hope, 
 every night the despair. She did not meet him 
 in the Row, nor see him at the opera, and as she 
 was to be presented the following week, it had
 
 The Ministers Interference. 187 
 
 been 'decided that she should accept no invita 
 tions until her homage at court had been paid. 
 
 Very often she was on the point of mention 
 ing his name to Lady Moidart, but a delicate 
 reserve about a matter so personal always sealed 
 her lips when the actual words were to be 
 spoken. At length one Sunday night he was 
 announced. It was just at dark when Lady 
 Moidart was half asleep upon a sofa. Sara was 
 at the window looking thoughtfully into the 
 gloomy square. She had not heard the bell ; 
 she had ceased to expect him. His entrance 
 was so unexpected that she could scarcely speak 
 the few words of courtesy necessary. He was 
 perfectly calm, and apparently as indifferent as 
 if they had never met before. 
 
 He paid his respects to Lady Moidart and 
 then turned to Sara with outstretched hand. 
 As she took it his eyes sought hers, and she was 
 compelled to endure that questioning look of 
 tenderness in them which she knew so well. 
 She dropped her white lids to hide the tremu-
 
 1 88 The Minister's Interference. 
 
 lous joy which it was out of her power to con 
 trol. She forgot, she forgave his dilatory 
 notice of her arrival, she tried, as loving women 
 ever try, to be fair and sweet in his eyes. 
 
 Yet, his whole visit, when she reviewed it,, 
 pained her deeply. He suffered Lady Moidart 
 to talk of plans and parties which entirely 
 ignored him, and he made no protest against 
 her neglect. He spoke of his own engagements 
 without reference to Sara ; he said, with a laugh 
 of affected self-depreciation, that he would have 
 been glad to be their escort to a sale at 
 Chrystie's, but that it would be detrimental to 
 Sara to be seen with such a poor fellow as he 
 was known to be. In a score of ways he made 
 the indignant, yet affectionate woman feel that 
 the love of Tasmer could not be transported to 
 London. And yet she told herself that he 
 might be trying to deceive Lad}- Moidart; for 
 she could not misunderstand that sudden leap 
 ing up of feeling into his face, that reluctant 
 separation of their hands, that indefinable some-
 
 The Minister's Interference. 189 
 
 thing, impalpable as the atmosphere, and yet 
 beyond all reasoning away. 
 
 In reality, Lenox did love her as much as it 
 was possible for him to love. But he was a man 
 who, without being vulgarly fond of money, 
 knew well the value of money. He was aware 
 that Sara's fortune was as yet a mere trifle. Sir 
 Rolfe, if he lived and carried out his clearance 
 policy, might become a rich man and leave his 
 daughter a handsome income, but and there 
 was so much hung upon that " but." He could 
 not afford to marry her for some years, unless 
 he preferred marriage and Continental econo 
 mies to a bachelor life of English comforts and 
 English society. There were hours in which 
 his decision on this matter wavered very much. 
 Sara was such a pearl among women. Her beauty 
 entranced him, and he knew all the piety and 
 amiability of her nature. She was not brilliant 
 or clever, but he did not like brilliant, clever 
 women, and Sara Torquil was precisely his ideal 
 wife, if she had only been as rich as she was
 
 i go The Ministers Interference, 
 
 beautiful and good. So he suffered in his way, 
 also ; not as much as Sara, for he was not 
 capable of much mental suffering, but quite 
 enough to make him feel at times as if he 
 would run all risks of future discomfort rather 
 than give her up to any other pretender to her 
 favor. 
 
 It was singular that Mr. Maclane, the only 
 real rival he had, never gave him a moment's 
 uneasiness. He saw that he was often at Lady 
 Moidart's, and frequently driving with Sara ; 
 but he supposed it was only the friendship of an 
 elderly man for a lovely woman who had been 
 his hostess and companion during a few pleasant 
 weeks. Maclane was far too prudent a lover to 
 make his attentions obtrusive even in Sara's 
 eyes. She only knew that he divined, as if by 
 instinct, when he could give her pleasure or do 
 her service, and also when it was the precise 
 moment to relieve her of his presence. Insen 
 sibly she grew to rely upon a love which never 
 under any circumstances failed her ; which never
 
 The Ministers Interference. 191 
 
 demanded anything from her ; which was never 
 absent when desired, and never present when 
 unwelcome or mat-apropos. Long before winter 
 was over it had come to be a question in her 
 mind between the two men. Lenox gave her so 
 many anxious hours, so many self-humiliations, 
 so much of that hope deferred that makes the 
 heart sick. Maclane never suffered himself to 
 be associated in her mind with anything unhappy 
 or unwelcome. 
 
 So, beneath the outside triumph, beneath the 
 songs and the smiles and the beautiful apparel, 
 and the atmosphere of luxury and pleasure, 
 there was this constant under-current of the 
 future ; ana Sara knew very well, that, after all, 
 it was the real tide in her affairs, and that it was 
 bearing her on to her life's destiny. At first she 
 tried to understand and control it, but she soon 
 discovered that its forces and tides were far 
 beyond her knowledge or even her imagination. 
 
 " We are all the creatures of circumstances, " 
 Lady Moidart was fond of asserting. " If you
 
 192 The Minister s Interference. 
 
 could write a letter to them, Sara, what truth 
 there would be in signing yourself ' Your 
 humble and obedient servant.' As for making 
 circumstances, as Napoleon advised, I consider 
 it sinful folly. Drift with the tide of events, 
 Sara, and you are as likely to get into harbor as 
 it you tied yourself to the wheel of your own 
 foresight or wisdom." 
 
 Sara was too diffident and too personally reti 
 cent to dispute this position ; but the placid 
 smile which Lady Moidart took for her assent 
 was, in reality, the result of that sweet and sua- 
 den inward reliance which the habit of piety 
 grants. Her soul passed with a thought the 
 drifting and the turmoil of chance and circum 
 stance. However hidden the tide ot her life, the 
 pilot of the Galilean lake knew all its shoals and 
 currents. However perplexing the events with 
 which she had to deal, she could go to Mary. 
 Mother of Mercy, comforter of all anxious and 
 sorrowful women. 
 
 After, then, some weeks of feverish hopes and
 
 The Ministers Interference. 193 
 
 uncertainties, she decided to let herself be 
 guided by circumstances, which she committed 
 afresh every day to the direction of her guardian 
 angel. Some of these circumstances were, 
 indeed, afar off and beyond her control. What 
 could she say or do to prevent the many-sided 
 tragedy preparing within the walls of Tasmer? 
 She had understood it but very little when she 
 was there ; the wrong, the misery likely to flow 
 from it, she had no conception of. Lord Lenox 
 spoke of the clearances on his own estate as 
 improvements. The people of Torquil never 
 concerned her in the same way as they inter 
 ested Donald. They were not likely to be her 
 tenants ; she had not the personal knowledge of 
 them which he had. Her mind had been fully 
 occupied with the prospects of her visit to 
 London and her hopes respecting Lord Lenox. 
 The subject of the Highland clearances, though 
 she heard gentlemen discussing it, interested her 
 in about the same manner as the bills before 
 Parliament or the prospects of the wheat crop.
 
 194 The Minister's Interference. 
 
 Yet, little as she thought of the subject, it 
 was the current setting toward her destiny. 
 She was watching other currents, hoping from 
 others, fearing from others. She never thought 
 of this one. It was out of her sight, almost out 
 of her hearing ; it was beyond the horizon of 
 her usual life. Neither did Maclane think it 
 worth taking into his consideration. It was the 
 one thing touching Sara's life which he ignored. 
 Yet, it was the current, the fortunate tide of his 
 love. 
 
 For there had been a whisper among the hills 
 of Tasmer a soughful and sorrowful whisper 
 of coming evil, some weeks before that night on 
 which Father Matthew Contach made his urgent 
 appeal for the homes of the peasants. After it, 
 the whisper soon became a great cry of grief 
 and indignation. The advice which is not taken 
 irritates ; and Sir Rolfe, after he had shaken off 
 the personal influence of the priest, resented his 
 interference. He denied to his own heart the 
 claim of the people to any share in the Torquil
 
 The Ministers Interference. 195 
 
 lands. If King George and the advancing spirit 
 of the age had broken up the clan system, it was 
 not his fault. He was compelled to suffer a 
 certain loss of power and dignity. The people 
 lost certain privileges. He was about to make 
 the best of what was left to him. They must do 
 the same. If they were men, they would be 
 glad to do it. Even parents came to a time 
 when they expected their sons to seek a career 
 for themselves. The tie between himself and 
 the clan was worn away to a mere sentiment ; it 
 was an imposition on their part to plead it. The 
 word imposition always roused him. As soon as 
 this idea came into his mind, he passionately 
 assured himself that he would never submit 
 to it. 
 
 The first result of this decision was a decided 
 estrangement between the Torquil and his son. 
 He saw that he could expect no effective assist 
 ance from Donald ; and his first movement was 
 to send for his factor. 
 
 " Mr. Frazer," he said " you will procure
 
 196 The Minister's Interference. 
 
 summonses of removal and serve them upon the 
 tenants of Easter-Torquil." 
 
 Fra2er was ready to obey such a mandate. 
 He considered it a sacred duty to the estate, and 
 spoke so seriously on its undoubted good results, 
 that Sir Rolfe experienced, after the consulta 
 tion, a very unusual content. 
 
 To Donald, he did not again offer his con 
 fidence ; he put the young man quite outside his 
 favor and society. They met only at the dinner 
 hour, and Donald thought his father contrived 
 to make it the most uncomfortable hour in the 
 day. Very naturally, during these bitter weeks, 
 Donald's thoughts turned continually to Roberta 
 Balfour; but as the winter went on, the inter 
 views of the lovers became constantly more and 
 more uncertain; still, when it was possible to 
 take the boat along that dangerous coast, he 
 followed out the plan devised by Angus Mac 
 kenzie. 
 
 But such meetings were exceedingly rare ; so 
 rare that even Mr. Balfour, whose suspicions
 
 The Minister s Interference. 197 
 
 were constantly on the alert, never surmised 
 them. They were not entirely happy meetings. 
 Roberta had too honest a nature to feel satisfied 
 with any clandestine pleasure. She was humil 
 iated in her own sight every time they 
 occurred ; but when Donald had risked his life 
 to see her she could not resist his entreaties. 
 For her own gratification she would not have 
 transgressed her father's will ; for Donald's 
 comfort she ventured to meet even her own 
 heart's reproaches. 
 
 One day Donald arrived at Rosa Macken 
 zie's about noon, and Rosa immediately went 
 to the manse with a few fresh eggs for the 
 minister. There was not a word said to 
 Roberta, but Roberta understood without a 
 word that Donald was waiting to see her. She 
 was reading aloud to her father, and when Rosa 
 was gone the book was resumed. Perhaps 
 there was something in the tone of her voice, in 
 the forced calm of her manner, or in her flush 
 ing and paling face which roused Mr. Balfour's
 
 198 The Ministers Interference. 
 
 wonder. He watched her as she read, with 
 keen intentness. He was scarcely aware of a 
 word in the argument Roberta was reading. 
 Something seemed to have suddenly opened his 
 eyes. When Roberta glanced toward the few 
 cottages on the seashore, he saw in that glance 
 matter for fears and doubts that troubled him 
 greatly. After dinner was over, he said : 
 
 " You need not read to me this afternooon, 
 Roberta. You do not look as well as visual. 
 Are you sick ? Or nervous ? Perhaps a walk 
 in the fresh air will do you good." 
 
 He did not wait for her reply. He was a man 
 with a tender and scrupulous conscience, and he 
 would not tempt his child to lie to him. He 
 only wanted her to feel, if she were deceiving 
 him, that her efforts had not been entirely suc 
 cessful. He suspected that Rosa Mackenzie 
 had brought her a letter. He could not tell 
 how or why the suspicion had come to him. 
 Certainly he had neither seen nor heard any 
 thing to warrant it yet there it .vas. Up and
 
 The Minister's Interference. 199 
 
 down his own room he walked. He was watch 
 ing his child, but he would not consciously 
 admit the fact to himself. Still, when he per 
 ceived that she had dressed in haste and was 
 going toward Rosa Mackenzie's cottage, his 
 heart burned with foreboding anger. 
 
 For some minutes he stood considering the 
 circumstance. Should he seek confirmation of 
 his wrong ? Or should he be content to enjoy 
 such hours of hope and faith in his child as his 
 doubts permitted him ? Was not this a case 
 where ignorance would be better than knowl 
 edge ? He speedily denied the supposition 
 vehemently denied it. No, no ; it was better to 
 have the whole truth. If in pursuit of it he did 
 Roberta wrong, then he would acknowledge the 
 wrong and trust her forever afterward. If 
 Roberta were really deceiving him, the sooner 
 she was reminded of her sin and made aware of 
 its uselessness, the better it would be. He deter 
 mined, in the latter case, to do his duty as kindly 
 as possible.
 
 2<x> The Minister s Interference. 
 
 " I will remember my youth," he whispered. 
 " I will not be hard with her ; for the young 
 man is her first lover, and he is, also, a very 
 pleasant young man. Oh, if he had only been 
 free and frank with me ! I could have loved him 
 well ; yes, I could have loved him, though he is 
 of an ill family and a blind faith." 
 
 It was with such tolerant thoughts he fol 
 lowed Roberta. If the lovers had been watch 
 ing they could have seen him coming. But 
 they sat together on the hearth, with their 
 backs to the small window, far too deeply 
 absorbed in their own sorrowful love to remem 
 ber such a possibility. Rosa Mackenzie was 
 kneading oat-cakes at the table. It was her 
 kindly part to be absorbed in her occupation ; 
 and so, when the minister opened the door, alt 
 alike were astonished and dismayed. Donald and 
 Roberta stood up hand in hand. They did not 
 utter a word, but looked straight at him with sen 
 sitive faces and shining eyes. Rosa Mackenzie 
 rubbed the meal off her hands, and as she pushed
 
 The Minister's Interference. 201 
 
 forward a small stool, muttered apologies in 
 mixed Gaelic and English. 
 
 Balfour did not notice her at all. He touched 
 his daughter, and said, sternly: 
 
 " Roberta, go home ! This is a tryst I will 
 keep for you. Go home at once !" 
 
 " You are going to be angry with Donald, 
 father going to say unkind things to him. 1 
 will stay with him, for I am as much in the 
 wrong as he is." 
 
 " I tell you, go home, Roberta. Do not dis 
 obey me." 
 
 " Father, I am to be Donald's wife. I must 
 stand by Donald if you are angry with him." 
 
 " Mr. Balfour, forgive me. I would not have 
 begged Roberta to see me here if you would 
 have allowed me to see her in her own home, in 
 your presence. Upon my honor, sir " 
 
 " Your honor, sir ! It is not worth the breath 
 with which you assert it. As one man writes to 
 another man, 1 wrote to you. I showed you 
 that a marriage between yourself and Miss Bal-
 
 2O2 The Minister s Interference. 
 
 tour was impossible on every hand. I asked of 
 your honor so much pity for my girl as would 
 permit her to pass through the suffering you 
 have brought upon her without false hopes and 
 without sympathy, which could only bring more 
 suffering. For your own selfish pleasure you 
 come here to encourage her wretchedness, her 
 futile longings for you, her ill-starred affection. 
 There is not on the earth a more distinctly sel 
 fish creature than a young man who fancies him 
 self in love." 
 
 "Sir" 
 
 " 1 know what I am saying. For your own 
 personal pleasure, you induce Roberta to break 
 God's commands, to forfeit her own self-respect, 
 to stain the stainless purity of her girlhood. 
 You trouble all her hours. You have given her 
 sorrow and restlessness for the joy and freedom 
 of her old content and the glad companionship 
 of nature. She was happy ; you have made her 
 miserable. I, too what have I ever done to
 
 The Minister s Interference. 203 
 
 you but good ? And how have you repaid 
 me?" 
 
 " Fate has been very cruel to me." 
 
 " Fate ! Fate ! What nonsense you are talk 
 ing ! You have been cruel to yourself ; cruel to 
 Roberta ; cruel to me. If, as you assert, you 
 loved Roberta the moment you saw her, then 
 the first night you slept under my root you 
 deceived me ; the first time you broke bread at 
 my table you were a traitor. Quite well you 
 understood that there could be no question of a 
 marriage between a Calvinist and a Romanist ; 
 between a nobleman's son and heir and the 
 daughter of a poor Free-Kirk minister." 
 
 "Oh, sir! love hopes for impossibilities! 
 Love has reasons that reason cannot understand. 
 If you have ever loved surely you have 
 loved?" 
 
 " Sir, my love is a sacred thing. It is not for 
 discussion. Don't imagine yourself to be the 
 only man who has felt the sublime frenzy. 
 Only, if you had been a man, you would have
 
 2O4 The Minister s Interference. 
 
 borne the disappointment alone. You would 
 have thought of your father and of Roberta's 
 father. You would have shielded from useless 
 longings the girl you profess to love. You 
 would have respected the spirit and integrity 
 ot your faith, and never asked yourself -no, 
 not once if it were possible to marry a wife 
 not ot it. For you would have regarded the 
 misery of a home in which there would be 
 two altars and a divided worship perhaps 
 even a divided household. That very first 
 night you would have worshiped with me as 
 Naaman bowed himself in the house of 
 Rimmon, under a protest, and I should have 
 respected you tor it. I vow to you, had you 
 done this I should have honored you ; 1 should 
 have felt a sincere sympathy in your suffering, 
 and all your life long 1 would have been your 
 friend. 1 ' 
 
 " I have made a mistake, sir. 1 thought of 
 none of these things. I thought only of 
 Roberta. Pardon me, I beg you."
 
 The Minister's Interference. 205 
 
 " If I could forgive this selfish thoughtless 
 ness, this reckless putting of natural craving 
 before conscience and ordinary consideration of 
 consequences, how can I forgive a man who 
 lures my child from truth, from her home and 
 her duty, and teaches her to deceive her con 
 science and her father?" 
 
 " It is my fault ! It is my fault, father ! I 
 love Donald. If it be a sin to love him I am 
 not sorry for the sin. I cannot give up Donald , 
 I would rather die than give him up !" 
 
 " Dare not to say such wicked words, 
 Roberta. Do you think the Almighty opens 
 the gates of death for the puling of a love 
 sick girl?" Then, addressing Donald, he 
 asked : " What says Sir Rolfe Torquil on this 
 matter ?" 
 
 " I have not yet named it to him. He is much 
 occupied with important changes." 
 
 "Oh! You^ have not named it! Your 
 behavior to your father is as bad as it is to me,
 
 206 The Minister's Interference. 
 
 sir. Come, Roberta, it is time we were going. 
 Bid Mr. Torquil farewell." 
 
 There were no tears in her eyes when she put 
 her hand in Donald's hand. But the bitterest 
 tears are shed inwardly. All her fine color had 
 fled ; she was as pale as ivory. 
 
 "You will not forget me, Roberta?" 
 
 " As long as I live I will be faithful to you, 
 Donald." 
 
 So she went from him, and for some minutes 
 he remained motionless and speechless. He 
 lelt as if the tide of life was ebbing away from 
 his heart he thought he would die of grief ; he 
 wished to die. Oh, where is the heart that does 
 not hope to break under its first great sorrow !
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE CLEARANCE. 
 
 The summons for the clearing of Easter-Tor- 
 quil had been served early in March. The 
 cottages were to be vacated at Whitsuntide, and 
 the time was at hand. Sir Rolfe had expected 
 some resistance, for he was well aware that 
 Macdonald and other Highland chiefs had only 
 dispossessed their tenants by invoking the aid of 
 the law, or the sword. But Macdonald's sept 
 were Calvinists of the straitest kind; men who 
 had been protesting from the days of Knox to 
 the days of Chalmers. Resistance to any 
 encroachment on what they considered their 
 rights, or their opinions, was a familiar attitude 
 to them. The Torquils and Mackenzies were 
 equally familiar with the idea of loyalty and
 
 208 The Clearance. 
 
 obedience to their church, and to all constituted 
 authorities. No people on earth had the law- 
 abiding spirit more strong than the Catholic 
 clans of Scotland ; and though the finest 
 soldiers that ever drew sword, they were incapa 
 ble of defending themselves, except in an open 
 and recognized fight. From behind a hedge 
 they would not have fired a shot, even at the 
 devil. 
 
 At the first mention of a clearance, they felt 
 that their only hope lay in an appeal to the kind 
 ness of Sir Rolfe Torquil ; and if that appeal 
 tailed, their homes must inevitably be desolated. 
 Yet the clan tie was so strong and living in their 
 own hearts, they could not imagine it less potent 
 in the heart of the Torquil. The old men and 
 women, especially, were certain that when the 
 evil hour came, they would be permitted to end 
 tneir days in their little cottages. If the young 
 men and women and the growing children were 
 removed, death would very quickly dispossess 
 the few aged tenants, and every year would see
 
 The Clearance. 209 
 
 the land clearing itself ot its human encum 
 brances. 
 
 Even Father Contach inclined to this opinion ; 
 though after every useless intercession he advised 
 the people to expect no favor and make their 
 preparations with all the speed possible. Some 
 of them had friends in the Lewes; others in 
 the Skye ; a few had sons or daughters, .uncles 
 or cousins in North Carolina, where many of the 
 Mackenzies fled after the bloody settlement of 
 Culloden. Letters asking help had been sent to 
 these various sources, and Father Matthew had 
 also solicited assistance from richer congregations 
 in various localities. He desired to keep the 
 unhappy people together, and he thought it pos 
 sible to collect money sufficient to send the little 
 colony as one family to their kindred in America. 
 
 But letters asking assistance are not usually 
 answered promptly, and Whitsuntide arrived 
 and found the doomed exiles without anj defi 
 nite plans or any certain means. There seemed 
 nothing to be done except to urge upon Sir
 
 2io The Clearance. 
 
 Rolfe a stay of proceedings until arrangements 
 could be completed for the people's future. But 
 Father Matthew had a strong repugnance to 
 approach him again upon the subject. Such 
 interviews had become more and more strained 
 and painful, and he had found that every appeal 
 to Sir Rolfe's justice or kindness had only inten 
 sified his sense of irritation and made him more 
 determined to carry out his own plans without 
 let or hindrance. 
 
 He took precisely this tone when the father 
 made his final appeal. 
 
 " I am sorry to refuse you, personally, any 
 favor, Father Contach, but I cannot permit my 
 business to wait longer upon people notoriously 
 inclined to procrastinate, and to rely upon any 
 one but themselves. I have laid out a certain 
 life-work. I am not a young man. I cannot 
 wait upon probabilities resting upon some Tor- 
 quil or Mackenzie in Lewes or America. It is 
 unjust to ask me." 
 
 "But the aged?"
 
 The Clearance, 2 1 1 
 
 " Age has nothing to do with a principle. If 
 I favor the aged, why not the little children ? 
 Hector Torquil is the oldest man in the clachan. 
 Suppose I allow him and his wife Sheila to 
 remain. I know that they will be continually 
 mourning for their children and grandchildren 
 and great-grandchildren. I shall never hear the 
 last of their loneliness and helplessness. Such 
 half-measures are cruel all around. Do you sup 
 pose I derive any pleasure from sending these 
 people away ? I assure you it is a great trouble, 
 and has been, as you are aware, something also 
 of a loss ; for I put into your hands fifty pounds 
 for their assistance, a sum of ready money I can 
 not very easily spare. The good of the estate 
 requires that they should be cleared out root 
 and branch ; and when a trouble requires the 
 knife of the surgeon, the doctor has no charm 
 for it, Father. I will have no half-measures in 
 this matter." 
 
 So the flitting was a determined thing, and a 
 few of the younger people understood it to be
 
 212 The Clearance. 
 
 so; and without indulging any further hope, they 
 departed as quickly and quietly as possible. But 
 when Whitmonday came there were still over a 
 hundred souls in Easter-Torquil who knew not 
 where to lay their heads. Fortunately, it was a 
 glorious spring day, the corries, hazy with blue 
 bells, the green, green straths, white with dais 
 ies ; the wind fresh, but not cold ; the sky blue, 
 the air full of exhilarating sunshine. Never had 
 the little clachan looked so fair, so peaceful, so 
 happy. But, oh ! What anxiety and fears and 
 sad regrets were at every hearth. 
 
 About ten o'clock the factor and a body of 
 men arrived. Immediately they began to raze 
 the empty cottages. For a short time the 
 people looked on in bewildered grief, but very 
 soon affairs were made terribly clear to them. 
 There was not a shadow of favor to be shown to 
 any ; even Ann Ross, an aged, bed-ridden 
 woman, was to be removed to a family in the 
 village of Torquil, who had agreed to care for 
 her at Sir Rolfe's charge. The helpless old
 
 The Clearance. 2 1 3 
 
 crone filled the air with her cries as the men 
 lifted her on to a litter and carried her down the 
 mountains. It was the beginning of a scene of 
 indescribable hubbub and suffering. 
 
 The men were mostly sullen and silent as they 
 moved out of their homes their household furni 
 ture ; but the women wailed, as if each separate 
 woman were at the funeral of her first-born ; and 
 the children, at first full of wonder, grew cold 
 and hungry as the day wore on, and added their 
 cries to the general confusion. In the meantime 
 the factor and his men went busily on destroy 
 ing the clachan ; as quickly as a cottage was 
 cleared it was taken possession of ; and soon 
 after three o'clock every door had been closed. 
 
 It was then growing imperative for the ejected 
 crofters to seek shelter for the night. Most of 
 them had relatives or friends in Torquil vil 
 lage ; and so, laden with their most necessary 
 utensils and clothing, and carrying their young 
 est children, they went together down the 
 mountain. They had to pass the church, and
 
 2 1 4 The Clearance. 
 
 with one impulse they gathered around the 
 rectory door. Even at this hour they could not 
 abandon the hope that the good father, who had 
 always before been sufficient for their sorrow, 
 would still be able to help them. He had just 
 returned from Balmacarra, where he had gone to 
 meet the mail, trusting that it might bring help. 
 
 He was very weary and hungry ; but when he 
 saw the old and the young standing around his 
 door, uttering no complaint, as they watched 
 with a wistful, sad patience, for him, his heart 
 burned with sorrow and with righteous anger. 
 He knew not what to do for them ; but in this 
 extremity of his judgment, he passed rapidly 
 from the rectory to the church, and prostrated 
 himself before the altar. He did not speak to 
 the people, but they saw his face, and they 
 divined for what purpose he had gone into the 
 immediate presence of God, and they waited 
 with a touching resignation his will and word. 
 
 In a few minutes, they saw him standing in 
 he open door of the church, his face bright
 
 The Clearance. 215 
 
 from his communion with Heaven, his hands out 
 stretched, as if to assure them of his blessing and 
 assistance. They under stood that he wished to 
 speak to them, and quietly gathered around him. 
 " My children," he said, " the day of trouble 
 has come at last, but do not fear. God takes 
 particular care of the good, and those whom He 
 loves He saves. I know, and I am sure that 
 this trial shall in the end be for your welfare. 
 A little while you must wait upon God. Well, 
 then, wait here, in His precincts, in the shadow 
 of His sanctuary. Go into the church-yard, and 
 erect large booths there for your shelter. It is 
 God's acre, no man dare molest you. Many 
 old masts are lying around ; take them for sup 
 ports. The roofs can be made of furze and 
 straw, and under these shelters build your fires, 
 and spread your blankets around them. Over 
 the graves of your fathers you may dwell in 
 safety ; your Mother Church will hold you in 
 her arms; and I at the altar will make con 
 tinual intercession for you. Here you must
 
 2i6 The Clearance. 
 
 remain until I have another word for you. Be 
 patient, it will certainly come. Keep together, 
 for to scatter over the country looking for 
 work is to become paupers. You must suffer 
 together, and together you will be helped." 
 
 The words were like wine to the dejected 
 people, and they flew through the village like fire. 
 The fishers left their nets, the young, strong 
 women brought straw and whatever might be 
 useful, every lad and every lass that could lend 
 a helping hand worked willingly ; and against 
 the four corners of the church-yard wall which 
 made an excellent shelter on two sides they 
 erected four large booths. Father Matthew 
 went from group to group encouraging and 
 directing the workers. He sent the mothers to 
 the rectory to cook food, he folded the blankets 
 about the weary children. All night long the 
 fires burned brightly, and the work went bravely 
 on, and when the sun rose again, the living had 
 found homes among the dwelling-places of the 
 dead.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SARA. 
 
 *' Let still the woman take 
 An elder than herself ; so wears she to him, 
 So sways she level in her husband's heart." 
 
 In Tasmer Castle there was a wretchedness 
 which no one spoke of, but which every one was 
 sensitive to. Donald was kept fully aware of 
 very movement by Fergus, but no one could 
 have felt more completely helpless to avert or 
 even mitigate misfortune, than he did. To 
 express sympathy with the people was to con 
 demn his father ; he had nothing else to offer. 
 His own position was both humiliating and 
 unhappy. After the winter weather set in, he 
 could see little of Roberta; his boat was no 
 longer a refuge in times of trouble ; he was not
 
 2 i 8 Sara. 
 
 a sportsman, and when he went to the hills, and 
 came home every day with an empty bag, he 
 laid himself open to his father's sarcasms, and 
 the disapproval and astonishment of the whole 
 household. 
 
 More than once he had asked for his com- 
 mission. It would at least give him an 
 independent living and enable him to offer a 
 home to Roberta if she would accept it. At any 
 rate, it would make marriage a possibility. But 
 Sir Rolfe heard these requests with an indig 
 nation that seemed unreasonable. 
 
 "Your work is here, sir," he answered, " if you 
 would do it. You ought to be glad to assist me 
 in quadrupling the value of an estate which is to 
 be your own. It is a far greater work than 
 idling in some foreign station, or dangling after 
 women in home barracks. Military life is not 
 what it was in my day. Then, a man saw 
 service." 
 
 " I should like to try it, father. I am of no use
 
 Sara. 219 
 
 at home ; I am in the way. I am tired of doing 
 nothing." 
 
 " Who told you that you were in the way? If 
 you are no use, it is your own fault. I cannot 
 afford to place you in the army until Sara is 
 married. However, that event is likely to occur 
 very soon. You will get your troop in a very 
 few months, I suppose." 
 
 Perhaps in his heart Donald was not very 
 sorry of the delay. Spring was at hand, summer 
 before him, and during the months when it was 
 possible to see Roberta, he did not feel much 
 regret at being detained in her neighborhood by 
 anything having the semblance of duty. 
 
 This conversation occurred a few days before 
 the clearance. It is useless to speak of the 
 shame and indignation he personally felt in the 
 coming tragedy, and at his own total inability 
 to oppose or prevent it. For it is the finest and 
 most honorable natures that are the easiest 
 enslaved by some domineering will that are 
 inapt to resist, harrassed by scruples, astonished
 
 22O Sara. 
 
 at audacities they have a difficulty in compre 
 hending. Donald would have cheerfully given 
 his life for the people, and he could not lift a 
 finger to help them. 
 
 During all Whitsunday he walked about the 
 castle, restless, miserable, tormented with plans 
 which he knew at once were hopeless and 
 impracticable. And all day, though sunshine 
 filled the rooms, the atmosphere in Tasmer was 
 singularly sensitive. Several times Donald had 
 the impression that some one had come into the 
 room. There were visitings, answers, he knew 
 not what intelligences, about him. As the day 
 darkened the feeling deepened. He fell into a 
 kind of visionary state, in which he seemed to 
 lose all voluntary mental and physical power, 
 and to be the passive recipient of impressions 
 made by spiritual minds. The gloom upon his 
 face brightened ; a peace that passeth under- 
 standing filled his soul. In about an hour he 
 rose up with a long sigh and went instantly to 
 his desk and began to write.
 
 Sara. 221 
 
 Tt was a letter to Sara, telling her in strong 1 , 
 graphic sentences the trouble that was at Easter- 
 Torquil, and begging her to hasten home and 
 use her influence with her father, in behalf of the 
 homeless peasants. Then he went to Father 
 Contach with the letter, for he knew the priest 
 was going to Balmacarra in the morning, and 
 could see it so far safely on its journey, for a sud 
 den anxiety for Sara's interference had become 
 the prominent idea in his mind. Father Mat 
 thew noticed this, and asked why he had not 
 thought of this influence before. 
 
 " I know not, Father. I supposed from Sara's 
 letters she was too busily employed with her 
 own affairs too happy to be troubled." 
 
 " You do your sister an injustice, Donald. I 
 never knew Sara Torquil put pleasure before 
 charity or duty. Who or what urged you to 
 appeal to her to-day ?" 
 
 Then Donald revealed to his friend something 
 of the spiritual experience he had just had 
 only something approximating it for he had no
 
 222 Sara. 
 
 words to explain fully a condition transcending 
 words. 
 
 " But, distinctly, as if you had breathed the 
 message in my ear, some one said to me, ' Write 
 to Sara Torquil.' And I awoke if I were 
 asleep happy, comforted, assured of help. Can 
 you understand me, Father?" 
 
 " Thank God, I can understand you, Donald ! 
 These infusions of heavenly light and comfort 
 that come, we know not how, often when we are 
 not looking for them, are blessed proofs of 
 what, think you ?" 
 
 " I know not." 
 
 " That we are united to other minds. 
 Thoughts come from minds ; they do not move 
 about in the air. Good minds are joined thus to 
 better minds, and the angels of God ascend and 
 descend for our help and counsel. Remember 
 what I tell you now, Donald : We are the inhab 
 itants of two worlds. We have senses that open 
 to all the beauties and sorrows of this portion 
 of our Father's mansion, and we have spiritual
 
 Sara. 223 
 
 senses that can open to an inner, a higher, a 
 holier world. Blessed are they who have ears 
 to hear and eyes to see things which are often 
 hidden from the wise and recorded to the pure 
 in heart." 
 
 " Then, Father, if there be good angels ever 
 ready to teach and help the good, may there not 
 be bad angels ever ready to lead still further 
 astray the wicked?" 
 
 "Alas, my son, who can doubt it? 'Whoso 
 ever committeth sin, is the servant of sin.' To 
 a bad man there is constantly a series oi sug 
 gestions being made, leading him to be worse. 
 He never shows himself as bad as he leels. 
 Something is always impelling him to pro- 
 founder depths of sin and folly. Something 
 worse than himself drags him lower and lower. 
 If good angels cannot approach you, be very 
 sure evil ones will. Choose, then, in whose 
 company and under whose influence you will 
 dwell." 
 
 Then Donald perceived by the father's still
 
 2 24 Sara. 
 
 face that he had finished the interview ; and 
 again commending Sara's letter to his care, he 
 went back to Tasmer with far nobler thoughts 
 than he had left it. His soul expanded to its 
 lofty and illimitable relationships ; he remem 
 bered " the cloud of witnesses." In the enthusi 
 asm of his contemplation, he lifted up his face 
 and spread out his hands to the Unseen, and 
 again under the solemn sighing branches of the 
 firs, realized that he was indeed the inhabitant 
 of two worlds. A great resignation and trust 
 succeeded to the angry turmoil of passions 
 which had made him wretched for so many 
 weeks. He could not understand how his letter 
 to Sara was to procure help, but he firmly 
 believed it would do so, and was sure, also, that 
 he had inspired Father Matthew with the same 
 confidence. . 
 
 It arrived in London just as Sara had finished 
 her preparations for returning home. Her visit 
 had been prolonged much beyond its original 
 intention, Lady Moidart usually spending the
 
 Sara. 225 
 
 Easter holidays on her own estate. There was 
 in the house the feeling of outworn pleasure, 
 and the anticipation of a change. Trunks 
 encumbered the halls, and the tables were 
 covered with packages, the last spoils of the 
 Regent Street shops. Sara looked at the parcels 
 in her own room with a sentiment of sadness 
 and regret. It is only the very young and 
 thoughtless who are not conscious of some dis 
 satisfaction after foolish and reckless expendi 
 ture. Her last day's shopping had been 
 altogether unnecessary. When Lady Moidart 
 had urged her to make out a list of indispensable 
 toilet adjuncts to take north with her, she had 
 made such a list, and felt in the making of it that 
 every item might be wanted at Tasmer, and 
 could not be procured But the possession of so 
 many ribbons and gloves and scarfs was not half 
 so satisfying as she had anticipated. They 
 looked upon the whole a very paltry exchange 
 for thirty sovereigns, and she admitted the fact 
 to herself.
 
 226 Sara. 
 
 " I ought not to have spent the money. 
 Father told me how hard it was to spare it, and 
 poor Donald would have thought himself rich 
 with thirty sovereigns." 
 
 She looked at the offending parcels with an 
 air of aversion and vexation, and at that moment 
 she received Donald's letter. She read it 
 slowly, and then stood up to read it again. It 
 was as if she had not been sure of her intelli 
 gence while in an attitude of inattention ; as if, 
 in the act of standing up, she gathered her 
 faculties together. Father Matthew had under 
 stood her well, for, as she slowly but fully real 
 ized the condition of affairs Donald had painted 
 in such vehement words, her countenance 
 changed, she let her hands fall down, and stood 
 pale and motionless for some minutes, just 
 where the sorrowful news had found her. 
 
 She was not a woman apt to act upon impulse. 
 She had discovered, when very young, that 
 impulse is a bad guide ; and, though she had 
 never heard of Euripides, she had arrived at his
 
 Sara. 227 
 
 conclusion : " among mortals second thoughts 
 are best." So she took no particular heed of the 
 suggestion following immediately upon her first 
 sensations of shame, anger and pity. Until her 
 maid came to dress her for dinner, she thought of 
 the situation. Donald had not asked her for any 
 help, except her influence with Sir Rolfe. He 
 had expected no other help from her ; but there 
 was a feeling of " needs do " in her own soul, 
 and she knew she would not escape from its 
 strait until she had made an effort an effort she 
 was already dimly conscious of, and which she 
 was waiting for events to set clearly before her. 
 
 " You are very tired, Sara," said Lady 
 Moidart. " After the dance, the sleep. After 
 London, Tasmer. I think you are ready for the 
 change." 
 
 " I am very unhappy, aunt !" Then she 
 opened Donald's letter and read it aloud. The 
 old lady showed her resentment much more 
 vividly than Sara had done. 
 
 " It is an unspeakable outrage," she said, pas-
 
 228 Sara. 
 
 sionately. " I have thought ill of your father all 
 his days, but never that he would do so ill a 
 thing. Has the man lost all conscience, all 
 family pride and honor? He does not know 
 what he is undertaking. Only certain natures 
 born money-grabbers can make such wholesale 
 cruelty pay them. Sir Rolfe is a soldier with 
 some fine instincts left, which will perpetually 
 interfere such as sacrificing fifty pounds. Why 
 should he give any of the price of these poor 
 souls back? If he is going to take service with 
 the devil, then, in common-sense, let him keep 
 all the devil's wages. He must have a poor 
 conscience if he can bribe it for fifty pounds." 
 
 ' Hush ! dear aunt ! Father is not much to 
 blame; he is completely under the influence of 
 Simon Lovat." 
 
 " That is no excuse, Sara. He need not be 
 under his influence. Lovat is not a malignant 
 contagion in the air which cannot be escaped ; 
 he is a poison which men deliberately lift and 
 drink yes, and hold in their hands and hesitate
 
 Sara. 229 
 
 and think over. Lord Lenox is another exam 
 ple of his influence. Before he inherited the 
 Lenox lordship, when he had no hope of inher 
 iting it, when he was only a captain in the 
 Seaforth Highlanders, he was as pleasant and 
 good-hearted a young fellow as I ever knew. 
 I liked him. I helped him many a time. But 
 how he has changed ! The first clearance cost 
 him some hours of indecision and regret ; the 
 second, not a thought. I have been truly told 
 that the last of the crofters on his estate were 
 removed under circumstances of the most 
 unnecessary cruelty. I used to think him affec 
 tionate and honorable. I was mistaken. He is 
 nothing at all now, if he is not unscrupulous 
 and greedy of gold. 1 have no doubt he will 
 succeed in his plans. He will have no misgiv 
 ings and no relentings. In a few years his 
 estate will be highly productive, and in the 
 meantime he will marry Maria Crossley, whose 
 father made her a million by brewing beer. 
 But Sir Rolfe is too old to so completely
 
 230 Sara. 
 
 change his nature. There will be a few old mil 
 itary and gentlemanly scruples he cannot con 
 quer: his whole policy will be weakened by 
 them. He will commit small business indiscre 
 tions that will ruin him." 
 
 " If you could only talk to him, aunt !" 
 " I ! child ; he would not listen to me if I told 
 how to save his life. And if you are dreaming 
 of influencing him, dismiss all such false hopes. 
 If Rolfe Torquil has made up his mind to carry 
 out the clearance policy on the Tasmer estate, 
 an angel from Heaven could not reason with 
 him." 
 
 " My father is truly religious, aunt." 
 " 1 know it. There is a puzzle, a contradic 
 tion, in most characters, that none but God 
 Almighty understands. How Sir Rolfe recon 
 ciles his injustice to his people with the ten 
 commandments and the golden rule is beyond 
 my comprehension ; but I have not the slightest 
 doubt that he has done so." 
 
 Nothing more was said upon the subject, but
 
 Sara. 231 
 
 Sara had plenty of matter for thought. It was 
 the first time Lady Moidart had expressed any 
 opinion about Lord Lenox. Sara had under 
 stood from him that the friendship between 
 them was of the kindest and most confidential 
 character, and she had wondered at their slight 
 intercourse and interest concerning each other. 
 She understood the change now ; she under 
 stood Lady Moidart's fixed politeness and appar 
 ent carelessness as to his future. Much that 
 had pained and perplexed her was now clear. 
 
 She never doubted a word her aunt had said. 
 Lady Moidart had faults, but she did not lie. 
 She was honorable even to an enemy. All she 
 had said of Lenox might be taken without excep 
 tions. No woman likes to be disenchanted. Even 
 when the process goes on witn intermissions of 
 hope, it is a painful process, but Sara had come 
 to the last hour of her illusion. She had often 
 wavered in her opinion, she had suffered and for 
 given, she had been as blind as those who will 
 not see, she had gone through all the hopes and
 
 232 Sara. 
 
 despairs and self-humiliations of love's fitful 
 fever. At that hour she felt no pity for herself 
 and no love for Lenox ; she was only sorry for 
 the hours and the emotions wasted upon so 
 unworthy an object. " Something in my own 
 nature must be akin to him, or I should not have 
 loved him," she thought, and she was ashamed 
 under \he self-condemnation. Still the renuncia 
 tion was not completed without suffering. A 
 first love, however unworthy, strikes its roots 
 deep into the affections. Sara had a bad night, 
 and in the morning, while the house was all in 
 confusion with the packing, she put on her cloak 
 and bonnet and went out. 
 
 Lady Moidart watched her a few moments, 
 and concluded she was going to walk in the 
 private park attached to the fashionable square 
 in which they lived. But Sara went further 
 than the park went through many a busy 
 street, until she turned into a silent court off a 
 great thoroughfare, and found at the head of it 
 the quiet church she wanted. How strange was
 
 Sara. 233: 
 
 its dimness and silence in the very heart of Lon 
 don's tide of life and turmoil. She glided into a 
 seat, in order to recover her thoughts and com 
 posure befere she ventured to offer her petition ; 
 and it was not many moments ere she felt the 
 soothing influence of the place. 
 
 A priest, in the white serge robes of the 
 Brotherhood of St. Dominic, knelt motionless on 
 the steps of the altar. There were a number of 
 people iri the church, all of them so engrossed 
 with their own devotions that they knew not of 
 her advent. One young man, evidently from 
 the highest social ranks, was making the solemn 
 way of the cross. He was in a rapture of medi 
 tation at the foot of the crucifix at the twelfth 
 station. His hands were uplifted and clasped; 
 his face raised and wet with tears. To him Cal 
 vary and the Christ upon it were as real facts as 
 his own existence. Not far from him, a poor 
 woman was whispering a heartful of grief into 
 Mary's ear. Like Hannah of old, " she was in 
 bitterness of soul, and she wept sore." The aged
 
 234 Sara. 
 
 and the young, the rich and the poor were 
 there, each with their own sorrow, or hope, or 
 anxiety, and the holy silence was broken by no 
 sound but the sighing of the suppliant, or the 
 murmured prayers at the altars or the stations. 
 
 In holy meditation, in earnest supplications, 
 Sara spent her morning. She had much to give 
 thanks for ; she had counsel to inquire after ; 
 she had help to seek. She was surrounded by 
 other implorers, but she was alone with God. 
 The visit she had expected with so much youth 
 ful eagerness, was over. She had tried the 
 world at its very best, tasted of all its pleasures, 
 and she acknowledged to her soul, that morning, 
 that a day in God's house was better than 
 thousand elsewhere. 
 
 She had gone into that house full of trouble 
 and anxiety ; she came away from it with a 
 heart at rest. There she had left all her worry 
 ing hopes and desires about Lenox. There she 
 had prayed for his soul's welfare and forever 
 resigned all personal affection for him. In the
 
 Sara. 235 
 
 afternoon she expected Mr. Maclane. He had 
 written to request an hour's private interview 
 with her, and she understood quite well the 
 question she would have to answer. He would 
 ask her again to be his wife, and she had 
 resolved to accept him. Hence her solemn 
 renunciation of Lord Lenox. In the future, 
 every thought of her heart must be for the man 
 whose wife she had determined to be. 
 
 She had no misgivings ; she had put the last 
 one away. If she were not in love, she had an 
 affection and respect for him which she did not 
 fear to trust. She honored him, for he deserved 
 honor. She was proud of his political position, 
 proud of his talents, and not indifferent to his 
 great wealth. All her life long she had known 
 the misery that comes from the want of money. 
 She had reproached herself throughout the 
 winter because of Donald's position ; but if Mr. 
 Maclane made upon her the settlement he pro 
 posed, she would have gold enough to realize 
 every good intent, every loving desire. Her
 
 236 
 
 Sara. 
 
 union with him could make so many others 
 happy beside herself. And, surely, she thought 
 a marriage of that kind must be better than one 
 which gratified only a single selfish love.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE MINISTER CALLS ON THE BARON. 
 
 " Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend, 
 More hideous when thou showest thee in a child 
 Than the sea-monster !" 
 
 " Never anger 
 Made good guard for itself." 
 
 The temporary settlement of the expelled 
 crofters of Easter-Torquil in the church-yard of 
 Torquil was a matter of very serious annoyance 
 to Sir Rolfe ; but he did not feel as if he dared to 
 clash opinions with Father Matthew about it. 
 He knew that he had no legal right to urge 
 their removal from it, and he was not anxious to 
 enter into the moral right of the question in any 
 shape. Yet nothing could have happened so
 
 238 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 
 
 entirely shocking to his deepest prejudices, and 
 so really uncomfortable to his conscience. It 
 was as if the wronged Torquils had appealed 
 from their living to their dead. He woke up 
 from his sleep with an uncanny feeling of the 
 great clan behind him being moved to wrath by 
 such an invasion of their territory. He could 
 barely reassure himself by considering that the 
 chiefs of the family would be sure to understand 
 and approve his motives. Had any of them in 
 their raids on their neighbors, or in their fights 
 with the Macdonalds, ever valued the lives of 
 the men they led? No. They had sacrificed 
 everything for the honor and perpetuity of their 
 sept; and he was only doing the same thing 
 according to the methods of the age in which 
 he lived. 
 
 Yet there was some troubled spiritual element 
 in the castle. Heavy footfalls were heard by 
 all, and voices as deep as the sound of multi 
 tudes in one, and low, mournful sighs thrilling 
 an atmosphere sensitive as life, and which to the
 
 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 239 
 
 painfully attent ear seemed stirred by shadowy 
 wings. Doors that had closed for generations 
 were found open. One midnight, the great 
 shield of Fergus Torquil, first Earl of Ross, fell 
 to the ground with a ringing thud that woke 
 every one in the castle with a feeling of terror. 
 Donald, who had a temperament peculiarly 
 responsive to any spiritual influence, lived dur 
 ing these days with one foot in the other world. 
 And his confessor was too wise and holy a man 
 to make light of any ascendancy because it was 
 beyond mortal understanding and analysis. 
 
 " God has nowhere said He would not send 
 spirits to warn men; and Christ by implication 
 taught that they did so when He said : ' Though 
 one came from the dead,' some would not listen." 
 
 " But surely, dear Father, angels fit for the 
 perpetual adoration of Heaven will not soil white 
 souls with the sins and sorrows of earth?" 
 
 " Service is adoration. Are they not all min 
 istering spirits ? Angels are good men made 
 perfect. It is in this way the holy Scriptures
 
 240 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 
 
 speak of them. In this way, also, the fathers and 
 saints regarded them. The first angels men 
 tioned in the Bible, those which appeared to 
 Abraham, are called ' three men.' The angels 
 that appeared to Lot are called ' two men.' 
 When Manoah said to the angel who appeared 
 to him, ' Art thou the man that speaketh unto 
 the woman ?' he said, ' I am.' The angel that 
 appeared to St. John forbade John to worship 
 him, saying, ' See thou do it not. I am thy fel 
 low-servant and of thy brethren that have the 
 testimony of Jesus.' If the angels are good men 
 made perfect, who are more fit to minister unto 
 men, to warn them against sin, and guide them 
 in sorrow ? But as the same laws operate on 
 the good and on the evil, may not wicked and 
 undeterminate spirits still linger between two 
 worlds, troubled by the things of earth which 
 still hold them in dominion ? In that inter 
 mediate world which the Church calls purgatory 
 the place of judgment may not a part of the 
 soul's punishment depend upon its knowledge oj
 
 The Minister Calls on the Bar on. 241 
 
 what still goes on among the things of which it 
 made idols ? For instance, if the man who 
 served gold instead of God, can see the gold for 
 which he sinned against his soul, squandered and 
 wasted, or in the hands of those whom he 
 wronged or hated, how great and how fitting 
 must be his remorse ! 
 
 " And if those old Torquils who committed all 
 kinds of outrages, and shed blood without stint 
 to increase the number and power of their clan, 
 can now see its chief scattering and wronging it, 
 counting sheep and red deer as of more value 
 than their descendants, no wonder they are 
 moved and troubled even beyond the grave. It 
 is not forbidden us to think of these things if we 
 do it reverently." 
 
 "Oh, Father! How good is God that He 
 permits to sinful men a place of repentance and 
 of expiation. If it were not so if men went at 
 once to Heaven or hell " 
 
 " In such case, my son, men must be thor 
 oughly heavenly or thoroughly infernal before
 
 242 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 
 
 death. Very few mortals are either. Heaven 
 and hell are not next-door neighbors. Christ 
 taught us that between the two there is a great 
 gulf the state or place of judgment. It can do 
 you no harm to live as if surrounded by those 
 whom you will meet in the eternal world. Even 
 from a good supposition you may derive good." 
 This conversation occurred nearly a week 
 after Donald's letter had been sent to Sara. 
 Father Matthew had supplemented it with a few 
 lines from his own hand, and the answer arrived 
 just as Donald was rising to leave. The good 
 priest's face brightened as if it had caught sun 
 shine, and as he read the letter aloud to Donald 
 his eyes shone with the glad soul behind them : 
 
 "BELOVED AND RESPECTED FATHER: In reply to your 
 request, I say this keep the people together. I shall be 
 home in a very short time, and I am sure that I shall bring 
 help. Lady Moidart incloses ten pounds to buy meal for 
 them. Pray for me, dear Father, for I am about to take 
 steps on a new road. Pray, then, for your dear child in 
 Christ. SARA TORQUIL." 
 
 " It is good news, Father. I felt sure it would
 
 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 243 
 
 come. Also, I think there will be a letter for 
 me, and so 1 will hasten home." 
 
 Donald was not disappointed, and Sara had 
 been much more explicit to him than to Father 
 Matthew. 
 
 " I am going to marry Andrew Maclane, dear brother," she 
 said. " I am going to marry him because I love and respect 
 him ; because he will make me happy; because I am sure he 
 will be a good brother to you, and because I am sure I shall 
 never be sorry or ashamed for the step I am going to take. 
 I may not love him as Juliet loved Romeo, but I have a noble 
 and sensible regard for my intended husband. We shall be 
 true husband and wife, true friends, true companions, true 
 workers together in everything that we believe to be right 
 and good. I intend to take his advice, and ask his help 
 about the Torquils. I shall do it at once. He will under 
 stand how best they can be provided for, without hurting our 
 father's prejudices and his pride. We must remember that 
 any help to them is interference with his affairs, and respect 
 his feelings. I should think Father Matthew the best vehicle 
 for assistance, but Andrew Maclane will know just what 
 ought to be done, I am sure. Because I put him first in this 
 matter do not think that any one can ever take your share of 
 my love. My brother ! My dear brother ! In your place you 
 will always reign supreme in Sara's heart." 
 
 With an affectionate pride, he slowly refolded
 
 244 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 
 
 the comforting letter. To be loved so fondly by 
 two such women as Sara Torquil and Roberta 
 Balfour was surely a great blessing. 
 
 He turned to the window and looked over the 
 sea. It was brightly blue, and dimpling all over 
 in the sunshine. His boat lay rocking at anchor, 
 and the temptation to set her free and go flying 
 before the wind was too great to be resisted. 
 Yet, though his father sought neither advice nor 
 sympathy from him, he knew that he was sick 
 and troubled, and he did not wish to leave Tas- 
 mer if there were any prospect of rendering aid 
 to him. Sir Rolfe politely declined his society. 
 
 " There is nothing you can do. Factor 
 Frazer," he said, bitterly, " will attend to such 
 affairs as are urgent. By all means, go to sea, if 
 you wish to go. The servants assert the castle 
 to be a very undesirable human habitation. 1 
 suppose their terrors have affected you. Have 
 you heard from Sara?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. I had a letter this afternoon."
 
 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 245 
 
 " Did she tell you of her approaching mar 
 riage with Mr. Maclane?" 
 
 " She did, sir." 
 
 " Do you approve of it !'* 
 
 " 1 do, sir ; very much." 
 
 " That is satisfactory. I had begun to think it 
 was impossible to please you." 
 
 " If I could please you, sir, that would make 
 me happier than any other event." 
 
 Something in the young man's face and voice 
 touched his father. He answered more kindly : 
 
 " It is hard, Donald, for age and youth to think 
 alike. In a few years you wilt remember your 
 attitude at this time with regret. You will wish 
 you had stood at your father's side and helped 
 to bear a burden almost too much for him to 
 bear alone. Go away for a few days. Times of 
 change are always painful. When Sara is mar 
 ried, I will talk with you about your future. 
 All shall be done for your welfare that is possible." 
 
 He spoke so sadly, and yet so kindly, that 
 Donald ventured to offer his hand. Sir Rolfe
 
 246 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 
 
 held it a moment, and ere he turned again to his 
 papers, wished him a pleasant sail : adding : 
 
 " By the way, if you should go northward try 
 to find out something about that Melvich. I am 
 not going to submit to his encroachments. He 
 says I have no legal right in the waters we have 
 fished for a thousand years. Legal right, 
 indeed ! Use and wont have some rights, too, I 
 suppose!" 
 
 And Donald, wondering that he could not see 
 the same law applied to the ejected crofters, 
 went to his boat with the sense of a bird set free, 
 and took her out of harbor. It was near the 
 gloaming ; the breeze was light and the sea 
 rising and falling with a lazy send. 
 
 Just outside the harbor he met a boat making 
 for it. She was not a fishing-boat, and she had 
 a familiar look. He wondered a little where 
 he had seen her before ; but he never suspected 
 that it was an Ellerloch smack having Mr. Bal- 
 four on board. She came to land easily, the 
 anchor chain flew out, and the minister landed
 
 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 247 
 
 and stood for a moment looking around him. 
 He had the air of a man bent upon some special 
 errand ; his face was somber and set, his move 
 ments without hurry and without hesitation. 
 He stopped two fishers and asked them the way 
 to Sir Rolfe Torquil's house, and they looked 
 queerly at him, and said : 
 
 " The castle wass on the hill-top whateffer," 
 and then noticing his clerical dress, they removed 
 their caps and added : " It iss through the fir- 
 woodt you will haf to go, sir, and, maype, it iss 
 Father Matthew you will pe seeing first." 
 
 " Who is Father Matthew ?" 
 
 " Father Matthew Contach ! He iss the 
 priest, praise God, and he is a goot man, mir- 
 over. In the churchyard you will pe seeing him 
 now, if you will pe going there." 
 
 Then they left him, and Mr. Balfour went 
 toward the church, which was a notable land 
 mark in the place. The scene in the church 
 yard instantly arrested him. It was near the 
 hour for the last meal of the day. The fires
 
 248 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 
 
 under the booths were burning brightly, the 
 women were busy about the boiling kettles, the 
 men were spreading pallets of bracken and 
 blankets, and the priest, easily distinguished both 
 by his habit and his air of authority, was stand 
 ing among a group evidently explaining some 
 thing to them. 
 
 Two women carrying fish and milk passed, and 
 he stopped them and asked the meaning of such 
 a singular sight. They told the story of the 
 clearance of Easter-Torquil, and he was amazed 
 at their patience. When he expressed his opin 
 ion of Sir Rolfe Torquil, one of them, with a 
 movement of disapprobation and pride, said : 
 
 "You will pe a stranger, sir; there iss no 
 stranger that can pe knowing the Torquil. It 
 will not pe hiss fault whateffer; there wass bat 
 men at hiss side, and they did make him do 
 what wass not in hiss heart. It iss bat men. It 
 iss not the Torquil whateffer." 
 
 That was not Mr. Balfour's opinion. He had 
 a feeling of satisfaction in discovering that these
 
 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 249 
 
 Torquils were as bad as he had decided they 
 were. He was not aware of this unworthy sat 
 isfaction, for he was too much exercised about 
 other matters to enter into any form of self- 
 examination, so he again and again assured 
 himself : 
 
 " He is a bad man, a heartless and unjust man. 
 No wonder he has a false and selfish son. I will 
 not spare him a word of the truth, not I !" 
 
 To such thoughts he walked rapidly up to 
 Tasmer, and reached it just as Fergus was light- 
 ing the great hall. He gave him his card with 
 the information that he wished to see Sir Rolfe 
 without delay. In his way, Balfour was as much 
 a man of authority as Sir Rolfe himself. Fergus 
 looked at him with respect and curiosity. A 
 Free-Kirk minister was not a familiar sight to 
 him, but he quickly decided that the visitor was 
 an ecclesiastic of some order, and he gave him 
 the low obedience and the reverential speech 
 which he kept entirely for powers spiritual. 
 
 To Sir Rolfe the sight of the card was a pleas-
 
 250 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 
 
 ant interruption to his own unhappy brooding. 
 He was in hopes that it introduced some of the 
 neighboring Highland gentlemen, with whom he 
 could discuss the clearance policy, and bv so 
 doing re-assure his own mind. The " Rev. 
 David Balfour " puzzled him. Catholic ecclesi 
 astics were not accustomed to carry visiting- 
 cards in their vestments, and he knew none of 
 the Protestant clergy in the vicinity. But he 
 was inclined for company, and not averse to 
 gather opinions from all sources upon the one 
 question which interested him. 
 
 So, as Mr. Balfour entered the room, he rose 
 with blended dignitv and courtesy, directing 
 Fergus by a glance to place a chair near himself 
 for Mr. Balfour's use. He did not take it, but 
 remained standing, with one hand firmly grasp 
 ing the back. 
 
 " To what circumstance am I obliged for the 
 honor of your visit, sir ?" 
 
 " If there be any honor in the visit, sir, it 
 belongs to my office. I am but one mortal
 
 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 251 
 
 seeking speech with another mortal very 
 unhappily so, for your son has done me and 
 mine a great wrong, and 1 come to ask you to 
 restrain him in its commission." 
 
 " I am grieved and amazed at what you say. 
 I can scarcely credit such an accusation without 
 particulars." 
 
 " I blame you not for that. I will give you the 
 particulars. Last autumn, I met Donald Torquil 
 at sea in some danger. I helped him clear away 
 his wreckage, and brought his boat into Ellerloch 
 Bay. There was every appearance of a stormy 
 night. I offered him the shelter ot my home. 
 He came again, and again, and again. I have a 
 daughter, a beautiful girl of eighteen. I need 
 not tell you what he came for. He has out 
 raged my hospitality in the most cruel way." 
 
 " Then, sir, though he be my only son, I say 
 he is a scoundrel ; and he shall right the girl he 
 has wronged, or see my face no more." 
 
 " You are going too far, sir. I think my 
 Roberta pure beyond the breath of suspicion ;
 
 25 2 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 
 
 but he has won her love, weaned her heart from 
 her own life and all its simple duties. He has 
 interfered between our affection, broken our 
 confidence in each other, and made a happy 
 home full of doubts and anxieties and restless 
 ness. She is all I have. He has stolen her 
 from me." 
 
 " Oh, this is a different thing, Mr. Balfour. 
 Donald has acted imprudently, but I think your 
 accusation of outraging your hospitality quite 
 too far-fetched indeed, very unjust. The Tor- 
 quils are honorable men. When my son is 
 absent I must defend his honor for him." 
 
 " What the Torquils have been, I know not. 
 The present Torquils are not honorable men. 
 Your son, the first night of our acquaintance, 
 was well aware a marriage with my daughter 
 was out of all consideration. Yet he did not 
 scruple to seek her affections, though he knew 
 well that I never would permit her to be his 
 wife." 
 
 " It seems to me, Mr. Balfour, that you were
 
 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 253 
 
 as dishonorable as my son. If he knew a mar- 
 riage with your daughter was impossible, you 
 must have known it also. Why did you allow 
 him to come again and again ?" 
 " Because I knew not who he was." 
 " Did he visit you under a false name?" 
 " He told me truly that his name was Donald 
 Torquil, and that he lived sixty miles or more to 
 the southward, in the Kintail district. But 
 what did that signify? I knew no more of the 
 Torquils than I did of the hundreds of other 
 gentlemen in Ross. I saw only a tall, well-made 
 youth, with a bright face, reddish hair and win 
 ning manners. I am a Free-Kirk minister. 
 When I read the Scriptures and worshiped with 
 my family, he joined in the worship without 
 protest or remark. I supposed him to be a 
 Protestant. He deceived me at the very first 
 concerning the most sacred of all subjects, 
 between God and man, or man and man." 
 " Sir, you confess yourself to be an exceeding
 
 254 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 
 
 bigot. My son behaved only with the toleration 
 of a Christian and a gentleman." 
 
 " If it had been only for that once, yes. I 
 would then never have come here with a com 
 plaint. He was a traitor to his faith, and to his 
 host, over and over, week after week, month 
 after month, until his object was accomplished ; 
 until my child's life had been made miserable, 
 and the joy and content of my own home des 
 troyed. For the Torquils, being who and what 
 they are, I would pray God to slay my Roberta 
 ere she became one of them." 
 
 " The Torquils are gentlemen or their head 
 had not borne so patiently your unwarranted 
 abuse of them in their own castle. It strikes me 
 that it is I and not you who ought to complain 
 in this matter. Whatever may be your opinion 
 of yourself and your office, I can assure you, sir, 
 that Donald Torquil would commit an unpar 
 donable offense against his house and his order 
 and his religion if he married Miss Balfour. I 
 for one, would never speak to him again. I
 
 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 255 
 
 should never recognize the young woman as my 
 daughter. She would gain nothing socially, as 
 long as I lived, from the marriage." 
 
 " You could give her nothing socially. The 
 Balfours have a spotless name in Scotland's his 
 tory. They will never unite it with one against 
 which tyranny, idolatry, rapine, injustice and 
 cruelty are written." 
 
 " Sir ! You go too far much too far ! Sir, 
 you will make me forget " and Sir Rolfe rose 
 hastily and. stood glaring at his accuser. He 
 was whit^.with rage, quivering in every limb, 
 but making supreme efforts to control his pas 
 sion. 
 
 " Jacobites ! Papists ! Robbers of the poor, 
 because they are poor. I will not have my child 
 made a partaker of the curse that will be your 
 inheritance." 
 
 Balfour's face was stern, almost fierce, but he 
 spoke with an even, slow intensity, which was 
 unendurable to the nervous, passionate man 
 before him. His answer was a torrent of con-
 
 256 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 
 
 ^emptuous reproach and accusation ; and his 
 vehement speech brought Fergus uncalled 
 into the room. The intrusion was most fortu 
 nate. Sir Rolfe's hand had gone more than 
 v>nce to the spot on which his sword had been 
 wont to hang. His whole attitude was that of a 
 man on the point of flinging himself upon his 
 enemy. 
 
 But when Fergus came in he looked with a 
 grateful relief toward him and gasped out : 
 
 " Show that man to the door, Fergus !" 
 
 Then, with a low, inarticulate cr) , he threw 
 open the oratory, fell at the foot of the cross 
 and clasped the pierced feet of the Christ in his 
 hands with sobs and ejaculations : 
 
 " I detest my sins, O Lord ! . . . I seek 
 refuge in Thy Mercy ! . . . I have sinned 
 exceedingly through my fault ! Through my 
 fault! Through my most grievous fault !" 
 
 This act, so unexpected, so amazing, com 
 pletely silenced and subdued the minister. The 
 living, palpable faith of the Catholic, which
 
 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 257 
 
 makes his private religion a thing supreme at all 
 hours a thing of which he never feels ashamed 
 humbled the angry man. In his own church, 
 in his own household, he prayed readily before 
 all ; but he would have been abashed and 
 troubled if Roberta even had seen him at his 
 private devotions. The simple unconsciousness 
 of the spiritual distress he witnessed overcame 
 his anger. He went out of the room like a chid 
 den child. 
 
 Fergus followed him down-stairs with dislike 
 and fear, and when they reached the hall he set 
 the door wide open for him. At its threshold 
 David Balfour stood a moment, and t^en said : 
 
 " Tell Sir Rolfe Torquil that I regret the pas 
 sionate words I spoke ; ill words may be true 
 words, but it is better not to give them way." 
 
 " There will pe no ill wordts that will pe true 
 wordts of the Torquil whateffer no inteet, praise 
 God ! And the ill-speaker will pe taking the ill 
 wordts with him, mirover. Yes, and the door 
 xvill pe shut upon them."
 
 258 The Minister Calls on the Baron. 
 
 And then the great doors of Tasmer clashed 
 together with a clamor that set the old spears 
 and shields rattling on the walls, and sent Fergus 
 at a rapid pace to the lighted kitchen, feeling as 
 if an army of dead Torquils were gathering 
 behind him.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SARA'S REQUEST. 
 
 " Heart with heart, and hand in hand, 
 
 Go upon your way ; 
 Pleasant is the promised land 
 You're entering 1 to-day. 
 Corn it has and wine, 
 
 Field for work and play, 
 On it love divine 
 
 Sheds benignant ray." 
 
 The statues, the ornaments and the fine fur- 
 niture of Lady Moidart's drawing-room were 
 all packed away, or carefully shrouded in linen ; 
 as were also the great crystal chandeliers ; but 
 upon a table lit by temporary hand-lamps, there 
 were spread out gems of wonderful beauty and 
 great price ; diamonds and sapphires and pearls 
 of purest tint. Sara Torquil and Andrew
 
 60 Saras Request. 
 
 Maclane stood looking at them. Her hand was 
 clasped in his ; she leaned her beautiful head 
 against his shoulder; the light of perfeclly 
 happy, trustful affection was on both faces. 
 
 " Choose which you prefer, dearest, and give 
 me one more pleasure." 
 
 " The blue sapphires, the sparkling diamonds, 
 the moonlight pearls, all are lovely, Andrew ; 
 but " and she lifted the string of oriental pearls 
 and looked at them with a wistful admiration. 
 
 " But what, Sara ?" 
 
 " I want a richer betrothal gift than any of 
 these.' ! 
 
 No shadow darkened his face ; the moment 
 she had spoken the words he comprehended that 
 he should approve them, whatever their meaning. 
 
 "It is not gems you want; then what is it, 
 love?* 
 
 Then she told him of all the sorrow there was 
 at Torquil, and of Donald's and Father Mat- 
 thews's letters, and before she had finished
 
 Saras Request. 261 
 
 speaking, his clear mind had foreseen her request 
 and granted it. 
 
 " You wish me to give the money which we 
 were going to spend on jewels to make ne\V 
 homes for these homeless peasants? That is 
 your desire, Sara?" ' i 
 
 " That is my desire, dear Andrew." 
 
 " But I can do both do both easily ; and 1 
 shall be glad to do both. Most of them, you say, 
 are Torquils. Any one bearing your name has 
 a claim upon me. I could not see a Torquil 
 homeless, and not help him." 
 
 " But I also want a share in this pleasure. 1 
 want to offer these lovely pearls to Divine mercy 
 and charity to make a thank-offering of them, 
 and so bring God's smile upon our marriage." 
 
 He drew her closer and kissed her solemnly, 
 He made no further objection. He did not ask 
 her once more to accept them. The confidential 
 clerk, who had brought them in a guarded cab, 
 received them all again, and they sat down
 
 262 Saras Request. 
 
 together to talk more fully over the good work 
 they had undertaken. 
 
 Sara was enthusiastic in it ; Maclane was 
 enthusiastic in giving her pleasure, but he did 
 not disguise the fact that he was only partially on 
 the side of the crofter. 
 
 " I feel very sorry for Sir Rolfe," he said, 
 " and this matter must be entirely managed by 
 Father Contach. Even Donald ought not to 
 seem by interference to imply disapproval of Sir 
 Rolfe's plans. For, indeed, Sara, there are very 
 few Englishmen who would blame him. If it 
 were necessary for my solvency to shut my 
 works and mills, I am sure I should do so. 
 Upward of two thousand people might be made 
 homeless by the act, and I should deeply regret 
 it, but I should still think it was my duty to save 
 my credit and my estate. In another way, this 
 is your father's position. There is a romantic 
 sentiment, a historical tie behind it, which makes 
 the position harder for both ; but upon the whole, 
 Sara, my sympathies are mostly with Sir Rolfe."
 
 Sara's Request. 263 
 
 " You think the people wrong ?" 
 
 " No, I do not. This is a case in which Sir 
 Rolfe is right and the people not wrong. The 
 situation is altogether out of tune with the time. 
 And the moral effect upon Sir Rolfe is far 
 more trying than it is on the peasant ; for when 
 a man is called cruel and unjust, it is difficult for 
 him not to become so. However, dear Sara, how 
 can we ask a blessing upon our own home better 
 than by giving homes to those who are homeless 
 ' the blessing of those ready to perish ' is not to 
 be despised." 
 
 This conversation indicates very well the one 
 which followed it with Father Matthew. Mr. 
 Maclane was anxious to be unknown in the mat 
 ter ; but it was his money which brought the ship 
 into Torquil harbor, which provided all neces 
 saries for a comfortable voyage to North Caro 
 lina, which placed in the hand of every provider 
 a sum sufficient to lift care from their hearts and 
 to give them courage to face the future. 
 
 Sir Rolfe had no anger toward the outcasts,
 
 264 Saras Request. 
 
 and they had very speedily forgiven him. After 
 all he was the Torquil. The feudal feeling still 
 lingered in the hearts. Most of the men went up 
 to Tasmer to shake his hand ; not a few of the 
 elder ones wept as they affectionately bowed 
 their lips to it. Sir Rolfe felt his own eyes grow 
 dim, for the mysterious power in the tie of blood 
 is not to be put away ; and when old Hector 
 Torquil sobbed out : " My chief, my chief, fare 
 well!" he took his gold snuff-box and put it into 
 his hand, saying : 
 
 " It has my name and crest upon it, Hector. 
 You are the oldest living Torquil ; you must be 
 the leader of the people in the new land. Let 
 them do nothing to shame the name. We part 
 now. We shall meet again beyond the grave." 
 
 Maclane was present at this interview, and he 
 watched the scene with many complex feelings. 
 In spite of his great age, Hector was a fine old 
 man, with the erect, up-head carriage of an old 
 soldier. When he had gone away, Sir Rolfe said : 
 
 " He was a grand man with a bayonet. I saw
 
 Sara's Request. 265 
 
 him in ten engagements. He was fort}' years in 
 the army. Ross used to be the great recruiting 
 ground. When I got my commission, I was 
 followed by sixty strapping fellows from these 
 very hills. No one will now take the queen's 
 shilling. Their military spirit is dead." 
 
 " I do not wonder at it, Sir Rolfe. Hector 
 Torquil, you say, fought the battles of his 
 country for fort} 7 years ; and at the end, what 
 has he for his patriotism ? A tent in the church 
 yard, or exile to America. The feudal feeling 
 that made sixty strapping fellows follow you to 
 the army is nearly destroyed ; and beside, these 
 people feel themselves to have been unjustly and 
 cruelly treated. They may be wrong, or they 
 may be right, but the feeling exists ; and wher 
 ever it does exist, it kills enthusiasm on any 
 other subject. I am not blaming you for it, Sir 
 Rolfe not in the least. Your order have deter 
 mined upon a certain course for their own pre 
 servation ; you must go with them, or go to ruin.** 
 
 " It is the truth."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 TASMER'S SUMMER. 
 
 It was a great relief when the ship, with the 
 little colony on board her, sailed. She went in 
 the night ; went so silently that very few knew 
 when she lifted her anchor. Father Matthew 
 had heard their solemn confession, and said 
 prayers for their safety before they embarked. 
 He had gone on board in the evening, and gath 
 ered them on deck, and read the vesper service, 
 and sung a hymn with them, and given all his 
 blessing. They knew not, however, that they 
 would see his face no more. If there were such 
 a thought in any heart, no one liked to whisper 
 it ; and their last memory of him was brightened 
 by the smile with which he lifted his face to the
 
 Tasmers Summer. 267 
 
 ship from the small boat carrying him back to 
 the shore. , 
 
 Donald took a more active interest in the 
 event than Sir Rolfe. He was in many respects 
 Father Matthews's right hand concerning the 
 innumerable details of so large an immigration. 
 A feeling of great kindness and of sympathy, 
 unspoken but understood, was between the 
 clan and himself, and their parting was not 
 embittered by any misunderstanding or wrong 
 judgment of each other. In the farewell service 
 on board, Donald joined them. Their last act 
 had been to pray together and to clasp each 
 other's hands. In the morning, when he looked 
 over the bay, the ship was gone, the people had 
 vanished from sight forever. He was thankful 
 that the separation had been made at last so 
 kindly ; so much better than he had dared to 
 think it would be. 
 
 It gave him courage to hope that his own 
 immediate affairs would be settled for him as 
 favorably ; though where Roberta was con-
 
 268 Tasmers Summer. 
 
 eerned r the whole horizon seemed dark to him. 
 His last interview with her had been during 
 Mr. Balfour's visit to Sir Rolfe Torquil. 
 Roberta suspected the motive of her father's 
 journey ; and Donald remembered the strange 
 yet familiar cratt he had passed at the entrance 
 to Torquil Harbor. To the lovers, it was evi 
 dent Mr. Balfour intended to secure Sir Rolfe's 
 co-operation in order to finally separate them. 
 They were carried away with love and sorrow. 
 They vowed to stand by each other unto death. 
 Under such circumstances their love assumed 
 an exaggerated importance. Being the one end 
 and aim of their own lives, they fell into the 
 error of imagining that it was equally momen 
 tous to every one else. There is a luxury of 
 grief which love frequently delights in. Donald 
 and Roberta, who found the world in each 
 other, found, also, some strange, sorrowful satis 
 faction in believing the whole world was against 
 them. Donald spent nearly two days at Eller- 
 loch, and during this time won a promise from
 
 Tasmer's Summer. 269 
 
 Roberta to marry him so soon as he got his 
 commission. 
 
 The thought of military life was not unpleas 
 ant to her. After the stillness of Ellerloch, its 
 stir and change filled her with pleasant anticipa 
 tions. She knew that her father was expecting 
 a call from a church in the vicinity of Edinburg, 
 and she believed that he had sought it for the 
 express purpose of separating her from Donald. 
 If she did leave him, he would have once more 
 the society and friendship of the scholars and 
 divines whom he loved and honored. She did 
 not doubt but he would forgive her, as soon as 
 he realized she had taken an irrevocable step ; 
 and she lulled her conscience to rest with all the 
 specious arguments that love-sick, disobedient 
 daughters have ever been accustomed to use. 
 
 So Donald felt more at ease. However 
 restrained his intercourse with Roberta might be 
 during the summer months, he would surely be 
 able to marry her in the autumn. Roberta had 
 not been used to a luxurious life. Upon his pay
 
 270 Tasmers Summer. 
 
 they could live comfortably, if Sir Rolfe cut off 
 his allowance, which he admitted was a very 
 likely result. He thought, as so many have 
 foolishly thought, that the world would be well 
 lost for love ; that Roberta would be better and 
 more than father and honor and family and 
 money and prestige and social respect and 
 domestic comfort. Roberta and he were to be 
 happy under circumstances which had been 
 always fatal to the happiness of others. No one 
 had ever loved as they loved ; no one, therefore, 
 had ever given the world well lost for love a 
 trial before. Roberta thought just as Donald 
 thought. They were living a romance of their 
 own making, and finding even in its contradic 
 tions and sorrows and oppositions a happiness 
 of their own. 
 
 Roberta watched her father with much 
 interest and curiosity when he returned from 
 his visit to Sir Rolfe. She could not under 
 stand him. He made no allusion to Donald. 
 He seemed to relax his covert, continued watch-
 
 Tasmers Summer. 271 
 
 fulness of her. In fact, the minister was some 
 what astonished at himself. That passionate 
 appeal of his enemy to the Christ upon the cross 
 had given him a moral stupefaction; that par 
 tial glimpse of the large, white, shadowy cruci 
 fix, that utter self-humiliation of the proud 
 npbleman at its foot, that passionately penitent 
 cry, " My fault ! My fault !" was incompre 
 hensible to him. What vital sorrow possessed 
 this man ? He knew that he himself would 
 have died rather than have made such a con 
 fession before any mortal. The scene and the 
 words haunted him continually. He did not feel 
 satisfied with his own behavior. He had been 
 even more intemperate than the man he looked 
 upon as little better than an idolater. He had 
 had an opportunity to be Christlike, and he had 
 been anything but Christlike, and in his heart 
 there was the same bitter though unvoiced 
 confession, "My fault! My fault! My most 
 grievous fault !" 
 
 But the feeling of penitence wears away more
 
 272 Tasmers Summer. 
 
 quickly than the feeling of anger. He began to 
 think that Sir Rolfe must have had some inten 
 tion of injuring him, and that his extravagant 
 contrition arose from a sudden realization of the 
 sin and its consequences. From this point it was 
 easy to regain his satisfaction with himself, and 
 his dislike for, and his displeasure at, Sir Rolfe 
 Torquil. Then the next step was to express it. 
 One day Roberta went out early in the after 
 noon and did not return for some hours. He 
 had seen her leave in the boat and had watched 
 her tacking about the bay for some time. Sud 
 denly the boat had disappeared round a rocky 
 point, and he had been tormented with the idea 
 that Donald's boat was also at anchor in the 
 smooth water behind its shelter. He accused 
 Roberta, and defamed the Torquils with an 
 intemperate anger, and as it happened the idea 
 was entirely false. She had merely found a 
 favorable wind going, and an unfavorable one 
 returning, and she was able indignantly and 
 positively to deny the accusation.
 
 Tasmers Summer. 273 
 
 But the idea suggested was one more easy to 
 carry out than any the lovers had hitherto hit 
 upon, and Balfour having once wrongfully 
 blamed his child, was ever afterward sensitively 
 afraid of doing her a similar injustice. So 
 Roberta, who had been always fond of the sea, 
 almost lived upon it during the ensuing summer. 
 Frequently she was accompanied by her father, 
 more frequently she went alone, or took with her 
 one of Rosa Mackenzie's boys. She developed 
 a taste for shells and sea-weeds, and came home 
 after every excursion with some sea treasure. 
 And Balfour was glad to encourage any new 
 interest in her life. He sent to Edinburgh for 
 books and glasses, and encouraged her by a 
 sympathy born entirely of his desire to atone for 
 the loss of her lover. 
 
 His visit to Sir Rolfe had really done no 
 good. That nobleman, though he made a special 
 religious exercise of forgiving the epithets that 
 had been applied to him, was not able to think 
 kindly of the minister. He had been put by him
 
 274 Tastners Summer. 
 
 in a mighty temptation, and but for the warning 
 entrance of Fergus would probably have slain 
 Balfour; for his hand was on the poniard, which 
 his long residence in India had taught him to 
 wear concealed, and he had dropped the restrain 
 ing beads from his fingers and was feeling for its 
 hilt. The face of Fergus revealed to him the 
 danger he was in ; for one whole year of his life 
 had been spent in the shadow and horror of a 
 probable atonement for precisely such a satis 
 faction of passion. Soon after entering the army 
 he had quarreled with a civilian about a trivial 
 matter, and with his dirk avenged the fancied 
 insult so fiercely that his victim lay for months 
 between life and death, and he, within the limits 
 of his parole, waited in fear the recovery which 
 would give him freedom, or the death for which 
 he would have to atone. 
 
 The lesson had been a terrible one, and yet he 
 had permitted himself to be driven to the very 
 verge of learning it again all his vows for the 
 moment forgotten all the restraints ol years
 
 Tasmcrs Summer. 275 
 
 burst asunder for a little angry breath. Fergus 
 understood that passionate imploration at the 
 Christ's feet; although it always remained a 
 mystery to Balfour one which he could only 
 explain to himself by a half-contemptuous allu 
 sion to the emotional tendencies of the Catholic 
 creed. 
 
 But though this emotion did not sway the 
 angry man an hour after Balfour's departure, it 
 left some traces behind whose influence was 
 much more permanent. Sir Rolfe, though he 
 thought it a religious duty to forgive the scorn 
 ful, contemptuous words which had so irritated 
 him, did not forgive the man who spoke them. 
 In his heart he separated the sin and the sinner, 
 and he found it easier to pardon the sin than to 
 tolerate the sinner. He was conscious of a 
 desire to annoy him, and if he could do so by 
 simply not interfering with Donald, he found it 
 a method which it was easy to excuse to his own 
 conscience. So the minister had really done 
 harm to his own cause by the visit ; for Sir Rolfe
 
 276 Tasmers Summer. 
 
 had quite recovered himself before Donald's 
 .return, and was able to treat the subject with 
 one of those polite innuendoes about women 
 which some men consider complimentary to 
 themselves. 
 
 But, in spite of much said to the contrary, 
 there really are pure-hearted young men ; men 
 who reverence good womanhood, and who know 
 nothing of sinful women, and hardly believe in 
 their existence. Donald was such a youth. The 
 dim memories of his mother, his intimate knowl 
 edge of his sister Sara, his adoration of Roberta, 
 constituted the basis upon which his opinion of 
 womanhood was based. He repelled with an 
 instinctive anger anything which lowered this 
 estimate. He had known no bad women, and 
 he simply did not believe in them. When Sir 
 Roife smilingly tolerated "some love affair he 
 had heard of toward Ellerloch," as one of those 
 passing liaisons which are supposed somehow to 
 be conducive to the ripening of a young man's 
 character, Donald indignantly refused to have
 
 Tasmers Summer. 277 
 
 any derogatory word used in reference to the 
 object of his affection. 
 
 " I hope I am a gentleman, father," he ans 
 wered, with a flushing face. " I should scorn to 
 love a woman whom I did not think worthy to 
 be my wife. As to Miss Balfour " 
 
 " Spare me, I entreat you, Donald, all explana 
 tions. I wish to know nothing of the young 
 lady. If she ' adds a passing glory to your 
 youth,' I am obliged to her." 
 
 " But, sir" 
 
 " No, indeed ! I will not discuss a boy's first 
 love affair. You will have forgotten it yourself 
 a year hence. A much more important circum 
 stance is your sister's marriage. Sara has 
 behaved splendidly. She has fulfilled my high 
 est hopes. She is a good, sensible gM, and I 
 have no doubt will be happy and honorable as 
 long as she lives. In the main, sooner or later, 
 the Torquils do very well to themselves, which 
 is, I hope, no sin." 
 
 " I think Sara loves Maclane. I am sure he is
 
 278 Tasmer's Summer. 
 
 a very lovable man. I do not think Sara is mar 
 rying in order to do well to herself." 
 
 " You know nothing^ of women, Donald. To 
 get on in the world that is the one thing need 
 ful to them. But let this subject pass. I was 
 going to say that I shall have all arrangements 
 made for you to join the Seaforth Highlanders 
 in the autumn. So make the most of your holi 
 day now. Take all the joy of your youth, Don 
 ald. There is only one May in life. But take 
 care not to make promises or court acquaintances 
 which will embarrass your future life. Now I 
 must dismiss you, for I have many letters to 
 write, and I expect Sara and Maclane within a 
 week." 
 
 Thus he tided over and put off any serious 
 explanation on Donald's part. He really wanted 
 to know nothing as to the progress of his love 
 affair, for he thought he could very safely trust to 
 the watchfulness and animosity of such a man as 
 Balfour preventing the irrevocable step of mar 
 riage. And when Sara returned, he had so many
 
 Tasmer s Summer. 279 
 
 more vivid interests. She Avas in herself so 
 charming in her new character. The indepen 
 dence she felt in her assured position gave to her 
 intercourse with her father a delightful repose 
 and familiarity. They talked confidentially 
 together of what was to be done for Donald's 
 progress, and of what was to be done for the 
 future good of Tasmer. 
 
 Maclane's sympathy in respect to the clearance 
 of Easter-Torquil also gave Sir Rolfe great com 
 fort. He regained his self-satisfaction. He felt 
 even an admiration for the kind manner in which 
 his clearance had been effected. There had been 
 no necessity for soldiers or even constables on 
 his estate ; and then by some curious mental pro 
 cess, he very soon associated the good ship and 
 the many comforts of the exiles with his own 
 forbearance, until he felt as if all was the special 
 work of his hand and heart. 
 
 Upon the whole, it was a delightful summer 
 at Tasmer. There was the pleasant stir of wed 
 ding preparations throughout it ; the charming
 
 280 Tasmer's Summer. 
 
 litter in the family rooms of constantly arriving 
 boxes filled with splendid clothing and other 
 accessories to the bridal. Maclane was coming 
 and going, and his advent was always a new 
 pleasure. The boat built for him by Rory 
 and Angus Mackenzie proved a great success. 
 It was named the Sara Torquil, and Sara, 
 dressed in beautiful garments, broke the wine on 
 her bow, and chanted the launch song. The 
 little craft went off splendidly ; there was a 
 happy picnicky lunch on board, and Maclane 
 drank his bespoken cup of happiness from a 
 brimming cup which is a great thing for any 
 mortal to do. 
 
 Afterward, Donald and he had many a glori 
 ous race down the sound, or up the Minch, 
 when the squalls over Torridon were like to 
 blow the sails to bits, and the wind would fly 
 right up to the north and fetch the sea down 
 till the waves thundered over the bows. And 
 as Rory sailed with Maclane, and Angus with
 
 Tasmer's Summer. 281 
 
 Donald, the emulation was doubled in each 
 boat. 
 
 " For my faather iss the obstinate man vvhat- 
 effer, Maistir Tonalt," Angus would say, with a 
 laugh. " It will pe wild work lifting the poats 
 to wintwardth out of the floodt tide, but my 
 faather, he will pe sailing the mast out of the 
 Sara Torquil, pefore he will pe gifing in whet- 
 effer. Praise God." 
 
 Sometimes Father Matthew went on one boat 
 or the other; more frequently with Maclane, 
 for he was interested in him from a religious 
 point of view. And, though on a sea holiday, 
 the priest had the glad vivacity of boyhood, and 
 could sing a boat-song or reef a sail, or handle 
 an oar with any man. He knew well also how 
 to take advantage of those still nights when they 
 drifted peacefully over moonlit seas. Then soul 
 spoke to soul of the solemn things pertaining 
 to its destiny, and they reasoned together until 
 Maclane was almost persuaded of the truths the 
 father so earnestly pleaded. But his desire to
 
 282 , Tasmers 'Summer. 
 
 prove spiritual things by earthly methods, to 
 arrive at conviction by logical sequences, 
 hindered him much. 
 
 "You must make a venture," said the father; 
 " faith is a venture before a man is a Christian. 
 It is a grace after it." 
 
 " If I could be made certain." 
 
 " Ah, my son, certainty is the reward of those 
 who by an act of will embrace the truth !" 
 
 " O, for some knowledge of the Divine 
 Being !" 
 
 " It has been the longing of all ages. ' O that 
 I knew where I might find Him !' cried Job. 
 ' Show us the Father and it sufficeth us,' was the 
 supplication of the disciples. It is the ceaseless, 
 passionate longing of all heaven-born souls ; but 
 though there is no open vision in these days, His 
 presence is ever near to the believer." 
 
 Maclane looked with a pious admiration at 
 this fervent Christian. His calm manner and 
 sweet voice told of a habitual communion with 
 God, and his eyes were full of what Bossuet
 
 Tasmers Summer. 283 
 
 calls " an incomparable joy" a joy which none 
 can taste but those who taste it unmixed and 
 alone. And such conversations were not with 
 out their influence ; the priest felt that Maclane 
 could not linger long outside the gate ; Christ 
 Himself would speak the " compelle intrare." 
 
 In August Sara and Maclane were married. 
 The castle was full of company. Over the gray 
 old walls the flag of the Torquils, with its fiery 
 torch and crossed claymores, blew north and 
 south, as it had not blown for many a genera 
 tion. Inside, there was a light laughter of merry 
 girls and happy matrons, and all the delightful 
 confusion which follows a crowd of idle, pleas 
 ure-seeking men, whose talk is of sporting and 
 boating and beautiful women. Most of the com 
 pany had brought with them their own maids 
 and valets ; there was, therefore, a second and by 
 no means an unimportant party below the main 
 one. Elegant valets, with suave manners and 
 Alight-footed as cats, and spruce, jaunty ladies'- 
 maids were continually passing up and down the
 
 284 Tasmers Summer. 
 
 stairs and along the corridors, leaving behind 
 them an echo of carefully modulated badinage 
 and a flutter of many-colored ribbons. 
 
 In the midst of all Sir Rolfe and his hand 
 some son and daughter made a very distinct 
 impression. They were of the gay world, and 
 yet in a great measure not of it. Sara and Don 
 ald were so fresh and unstained by it, and the 
 old colonel brought into its light atmosphere 
 just so much of the military atmosphere as added 
 a grave yet gracious dignity to the most frivo 
 lous amusements. 
 
 To the marriage ceremony every Highland 
 gentleman and lady in the Kintail district had 
 been bidden ; and the old church of the crusader 
 was crowded with life and beauty. But among 
 all the women there Sara Torquil was the love 
 liest. The red-brown of her hair, the deep blue 
 of her eyes, her fine color, her tall figure clothed 
 in glistening satin, gave her a starry look, which 
 may be felt or might be painted, but which 
 eludes words. " Such a handsome couple !"
 
 Tasmers Summer. 285 
 
 " Such a suitable match !" " Such a fortunate 
 woman !" " Such a happy man !" These and 
 many other similar exclamations summed up the 
 success of Sara Torquil and Andrew Maclane's 
 marriage-day. 
 
 They left Tasmer for Sarum Court imme 
 diately, but most of the guests remained 
 for longer or shorter periods. Indeed, it was 
 nearly a month ere the last party reluctantly left 
 the coverts and the tempting hills, for the 
 heather was in its finest purple and the birds in 
 splendid feather. As for Donald, he had 
 thoroughly enjoyed the festival time. A man 
 may be in love, but he is not made insensible to 
 fine company and life that is rapid and vivid by 
 that condition. And yet he was glad when it 
 was over. Military service meant a home and 
 Roberta, and from these two central thoughts 
 he had planned out an existence full of the 
 sweetest and purest possibilities. Only ideals, 
 perhaps, but it is upon ideals the noblest 
 hunger of the soul is satisfied.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN THE TROUGH OF THE SEA. 
 
 " His hands are clasped and raised, 
 
 In the conflict dread ; 
 His passionate gaze is on the cross 
 
 Above his head ; 
 And scarce more worn and sad 
 
 That awful face, 
 That leans in the heaviness of death 
 
 From its high place, 
 Than the wasted face upturned to plead 
 
 For strength and grace." 
 
 Near the end of September, Donald Torqxril 
 was gazetted to a company in the Seaforth 
 Highlanders. 
 
 44 When I received my commission," said Sir 
 Rolfe, " I said the votive mass for it, with the
 
 In the Trough of the Sea. 287 
 
 Tasmer beads in my hands, Donald. Arrange 
 with Father Matthew the time, and make your 
 thanksgiving and vows over them." 
 
 " I am glad to be reminded of such a good 
 custom." 
 
 " How many prayers have they reckoned ! 
 How many sacred promises have they 
 recorded. They have been wet with the tears 
 of the penitent and the sorrowful ; they have 
 been hallowed with the last kisses of the dying. 
 The vows made upon them cannot be broken 
 without sin. Be careful, then, of the words you 
 say, Donald." 
 
 It was to Father Matthew that Donald went 
 with the joyful news first. 
 
 " I am Captain Torquil now, Father, and feel 
 my heart glow with military enthusiasm. The 
 Torquils may like this or that for a little while, 
 but they are all born soldiers." 
 
 " Man is a military animal, Donald, and he 
 loves fighting and parade." 
 
 " But it is not wrong, Father?"
 
 288 In the Trough of the Sea. 
 
 "This is a militant state, Donald. Have you 
 never thought of Holy Church as a mailed 
 warrior ? The light of her drawn sword has 
 illumined the world. I am glad you have 
 remembered to make an offering first to Heaven 
 of your success and your hopes. If God wills, 
 may He bless you !" 
 
 " I am very happy ; and yet Fergus has cast a 
 little shadow on me, though he did not mean to 
 do so, I am sure. When he saw me first this 
 morning, he did not know that I had been 
 gazetted, yet he said to me : ' I have had a 
 dream, and read it if you can ; for I think you 
 will never be a soldier at all.' It was in the gray 
 dawn, he said, and he saw me draw my sword, 
 and a hand a woman's hand, white and thin as 
 a shadow touched the hilt, and the sword fell to 
 the ground ; and he woke, wet with the sweat of 
 mortal terror. I laughed when Fergus told me, 
 but the dream has troubled me." 
 
 " Let not your heart be troubled, Donald. 
 Commit your way unto the Lord ; then, what-
 
 In the Trough of the Sea. 289 
 
 ever happens, it will be right. Listen to what 
 our own saint, the angelic Columba has to say. 
 This very morning I was reading the song he 
 wrote, as he journeyed from Tara. It has the 
 piety of a psalm of David, and the grand, musi 
 cal march of a chorus of Sophocles: 
 
 " ' Alone on the mountains, I need the help of God only. 
 
 " ' This shall shield me better than a guard of six thousand 
 warriors, for not even these could avail me aught if the hour 
 appointed for my death had come. 
 
 " ' The reprobate perish even within the sanctuary ; the 
 elect of God is preserved even in the fore-front of the battle. 
 
 " ' Let God order my life as it please Him. Nothing can 
 be taken from it or added to it. 
 
 " ' Each man must fulfill his own lot. The thing which he 
 sees vanishes from his grasp ; the thing which he sees not 
 comes upon him. 
 
 " ' It is not a sign nor an omen which can fix the period of 
 life. Our trust is in One who is mightier. 
 
 " ' I care not for the voices of birds or the casting of lots. 
 My Druid is Christ the Son of God. My kingdom is that of 
 the King of Kings ; and I dwell with my brethren at Kells and 
 at Moone.' " 
 
 " It is a joyful, trustful song, Father."
 
 290 In the Trough of the Sea. 
 
 " I have always loved Saint Columba. I can 
 see him, tall and strong and beautiful, lifting the 
 cross among the barbaric Picts ; I can see him 
 standing by the side of King Brude on the walls 
 of Craig Phadric, confounding the Druids, as 
 Moses confounded the Egyptian magicians. I 
 can see him preaching in lona, and sitting among 
 councilors at Drumceath, and I can see him 
 dying in the ecstasy of a vision of angels. Do 
 you remember, Donald, that this is the Feast of 
 St. Michael ? Let us implore the protection and 
 favor of the angelic warrior for you." 
 
 Yet, though Donald went from Father Con- 
 tach full of the purest and highest enthusiasm, 
 there was in his heart a faint sough of some com 
 ing doom he knew not what. Even the saint's 
 triumphant song had left an echo of the uncertain 
 and the unforeseen : 
 
 " The thing which he sees vanishes from his 
 grasp ; the thing which he sees not comes upon 
 him." 
 
 He wished he had not heard the words ; they
 
 In the Trough of the Sea. 291 
 
 had fastened themselves in his heart like an 
 arrow. 
 
 He went next to see Angus. He wanted to go 
 to Ellerloch the following day, and he wanted 
 Angus to go with him. There was then some 
 doubt of the wind and weather, but the next 
 morning was a specially favorable one ; there was 
 the blue above and the blue below ; a good south 
 wind, and a sunshine that went to the very heart 
 of man and nature. 
 
 Sir Rolfe saw his son leaving, but he was not 
 inclined to do anything which would interfere 
 with his pleasure. Fergus spoke to him as he 
 was half-way through the court, and Donald 
 turned with a light laugh and answered his ques 
 tion. Never before had his great personal 
 beauty struck his father so forcibly. He looked 
 as happy as a bridegroom, as handsome as a 
 young Greek god, when he lifted his smiling 
 face to the window at which he saw Sir Rolfe 
 standing, and then bared his head in the sunlight 
 as a good-bye to him.
 
 292 In the Trough of the Sea, 
 
 Ellerloch was reached without any adventure 
 or misadventure, and Donald waited the coming 
 of his love. He left Angus with the boat and 
 climbed the rocks to watch for her leaving har 
 bor. Her father was with her that afternoon, and 
 also a little lad from the village, but he saw her 
 land and gather some sea-grass, and he knew she 
 had seen the token of his presence an oar from 
 the Sea Bird standing in the crevice of the cliffs 
 for when he was not waiting for her the oar also 
 was absent. 
 
 There was then a certainty that he would have 
 to wait until the following morning, perhaps 
 afternoon ; and Angus and he made themselves as 
 comfortable as possible. They could do a little 
 fishing or gunning, and they had plenty to talk 
 about, for Donald had promised to take Angus 
 to the army with him, and the young fisher was 
 full of anticipations and eager for information, 
 
 The next day broke in unusual beauty. 
 
 " A pit too pright," said Angus, doubtfully, at 
 skies that were innocent of shadows or clouds.
 
 In the Trough of the Sea. 293 
 
 In the middle of the forenoon Donald saw 
 Roberta's boat tacking for the well-known 
 covert. 
 
 " My father has gone to a farm six miles away," 
 she said, happily, " and we can have a long day 
 together, Donald ;" and she then made Angus 
 lift from her boat a basket containing delicacies 
 of various kinds for their dinner. 
 
 Never was there a meal spread and eaten in 
 such a joyful mood. It was laid upon the sea 
 shore, and the table was a large, flat rock, and 
 their seats the dry, warm sands covered with 
 plaids ; and Angus boiled the kettle and waited 
 upon the lovers with kindly service, too delicate 
 to hinder confidence, and yet sufficient for every 
 need. 
 
 After the meal was over he climbed the cliffs 
 and watched the horizon. It might be the 
 minister would get home before Roberta and 
 come out to meet her, or the weather might 
 turn unfavorable, for sudden change was the 
 rule on the Minch ; and though Roberta had
 
 294 In th g Trough of the Sea. 
 
 but a short sail, if change was coming it would 
 be well to warn her in time. 
 
 So quickly went the happy hours away ! At 
 last, at last there was daybreak in their east. 
 Donald had got his commission. He was going 
 to Edinburg in three days. If Mr. Balfour 
 accepted the call given him he would leave in a 
 month. They looked upon this call as a really 
 providential arrangement on their behalf, and 
 Roberta was certain that he would be accepted, 
 unless her father heard of Donald's appointment, 
 which was very unlikely. So the foolish couple, 
 in the selfishness of their satisfaction, not only 
 forgot every other love and every other duty, 
 but with a forwardness of personality that was 
 sinful in all its elements supposed things of essen 
 tially more importance to be subservient to 
 their desires. 
 
 But they were unconscious of any incon 
 sistency. It seemed right enough to their long 
 ing hearts that the plans of every other mortal 
 should serve their plans; that two fathers should
 
 In the Trough of the Sea. 295 
 
 be wronged and slighted that they might have 
 satisfaction; that two homes should be filled 
 with sorrow that they might build their home 
 upon the ruins. They were the world to each 
 other, and they had no consciousness of obliga 
 tions outside their own small orbit. 
 
 So that afternoon, the sun shone for them 
 only, and the sea murmured softly with little 
 treble sounds against the boats and among the 
 pebbles for them. They congratulated them 
 selves on the necessity which had taken Mr. 
 Balfour from home so opportunely ; they made 
 pleasant reflections upon the deacons of that St. 
 Andrew's Free Kirk whose call was likely to be 
 so propitious to their plans. And in all this 
 there was nothing of malice, nothing of active 
 unkindness to others. It was the sin of thought 
 lessness ; the sin which we are so apt to count 
 venial, but which is, nevertheless, the great sin 
 of social life the unconsidered rock which 
 wrecks far more happiness than any storm of 
 open enmity, or open wrong.
 
 296 In the Trough of the Sea. 
 
 14 The minutes go too quickly ! The minutes 
 go too quickly, Roberta !" sighed Donald. 
 " But oh ! when all of them will be our own !" 
 
 And as they paced the brown-ribbed sands, 
 hand in hand together, Roberta leaned her hand 
 some head against his shoulder, and Donald 
 thought himself, among all the sons of men that 
 day, the very happiest. 
 
 Suddenly Angus called to them from the 
 rocks, and with eager motions he directed them 
 to the boats. There was no craft in sight ; there 
 was no apparent change in the wind. But 
 Angus had the prescience of a west-coast fisher, 
 or a sea-bird. He saw the storm afar off. He 
 urged the lovers to make haste in their prepara 
 tions. He was almost cross at the laughter and 
 delay with which Roberta arranged her basket 
 and made her adieu. 
 
 " With this wind I shall be home in twenty 
 minutes," she said, as Donald lifted her into the 
 light sail-boat with whispered love words, and 
 one long good-bye kiss.
 
 In the Trough of the Sea. 297 
 
 " We hadt petter pe following her," said Angus ; 
 " there hass peen time lost, there hass peen too 
 much time lost you will see that, sir, ferry soon ; 
 yes, inteet!" 
 
 " What do you mean, Angus?" 
 
 Angus was busy lifting the anchor of the Sea 
 Bird. 
 
 " You will pe seeing what 1 mean, sir ; there is 
 a squall to the north, it will be here ferry soon 
 perhaps it may make away to the Skye shore 
 put Miss Palfour's poat iss a small poat, and it 
 will pe like a feather in the plast if it will pe 
 coming this way and it iss coming and it iss 
 coming, sir ! Look ! Look to the north way !" 
 
 " Up with the sails, Angus ! We must keep in 
 Miss Balfour's wake. Hurry ! We may be too 
 late !" 
 
 Even while he was speaking the wind was 
 veering and changing, and in a few minutes it 
 was coming down with a roar that drowned 
 speech ; then the sky grew black, and there was 
 a woeful moan in the waters beneath it.
 
 298 In the Trough of the Sea. 
 
 Angus, who could do anything that mortal 
 man could do with a boat, managed to keep 
 Roberta in sight. She handled her little craft 
 with wonderful skill, and in spite of the fierce 
 blast was managing to tack for the harbor. Sev 
 eral men were on the pier watching her. There 
 was a stir among them as if they were going to 
 launch a boat and go to her assistance. Donald 
 stood at the bow of the Sea Bird like a man dis 
 traught; one moment crying out to Roberta, 
 the next urging Angus to impossibilities. 
 
 At length she was at the bend of the bar. If 
 she could pass it, she would be in smooth water. 
 A boat manned with six oars was flying toward 
 her; Donald could see the minister's form 
 among them. It was life or death for Roberta 
 to weather that perilous turn. Angus kept his 
 eyes fixed upon her. Donald stood with parted 
 lips and clasped hands, enduring an unspeakable 
 anguish. And Roberta tacked for the turn with 
 a desperate skill ; but the sea suddenly came 
 down like great Bens rolling over each other
 
 In the Trough of the Sea. 299 
 
 in fury, and the poor girl evidently lost con 
 fidence and became terrified. She abandoned 
 the helm, and, with great effort, reached the 
 slender mast, to which she clung. Donald was 
 near enough to distinguish through the murk of 
 the storm her white face turned toward him. 
 
 He called to her with passionate strength, but 
 his voice was carried away on the great wind 
 blowing it southward. If she could only hold 
 out five minutes longer! If she could only tack 
 so as to get over the bar ! If love could only 
 work a miracle for her salvation ! Alas ! Alas ! 
 While every eye was turned upon her, while 
 every heart was praying for her, a tremendous 
 wave went over the boat, as if there was no boat 
 there. 
 
 A cry of mortal agony blent itself with the 
 shrieking wind. It came from the miserable 
 Donald. He was standing at the stern of the 
 boat, when the billows went over Roberta. The 
 next moment, the slender mast, with the poor 
 girl clinging to it, was tossed into the trough of
 
 3OO In the Trough of the Sea. 
 
 the waves. The swell brought her close to him. 
 Her face, white as death, lay against the black 
 billows, and Donald saw no other thing between 
 heaven and earth. With a loud cry of " Roberta ! 
 Roberta /" with the swift plunge and unerring 
 aim of a sea-bird, he leaped into the raging 
 water.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 FAREWELL, LOVE. 
 
 " Yes, love, indeed, is light from, heaven ; 
 
 A spark of that immortal fire 
 With angels shared ; by Allah given, 
 To lift from earth our low desire, 
 Devotion wafts the mind above, 
 But heaven itself descends in love ; 
 A ray of Him who formed the whole, 
 A glory circling round the soul." 
 
 " Had we never loved so kindly, 
 Had we never loved so blindly, 
 Never met, or never parted, 
 We had ne'er been broken-hearted." 
 
 There are moments in the life of most men 
 when the spirit takes possession of the flesh and 
 defies its limitations ; when it dares the ele 
 ments, and subdues them ; when it faces death,
 
 302 Farewell, Love. 
 
 and is triumphant over it. It was in the might 
 of such a moment Donald made his perilous 
 leap to save his beloved, or to die with her. 
 He had calculated with more than mortal pre 
 science the exact moment and the exact space. 
 As he struck the water, his hand grasped the 
 floating spar. 
 
 But Roberta was almost beyond consciousness. 
 To his passionate outcry of love and hope, there 
 was but the faintest flicker of intelligence. He 
 fancied a quiver in the closed eyelids ; that was 
 all. Her hold upon the mast was the mechani 
 cal hold of a death-grasp. She knew nothing; 
 but Donald's mind had a supernatural clearness. 
 He understood in a moment that no mortal 
 might make his way on those mountain-tops and 
 in those valleys of watery death, and he looked 
 consciously toward the rocky beach, where the 
 set of the tide must carry them. To abandon 
 themselves to this ' set ' was their only hope. 
 Some wave mightier than all others might lift
 
 Farewell, Love. 303 
 
 them above the rocks, which kept the perilous 
 path to the land. 
 
 These thoughts were vivid and rapid as a 
 flash of lightning. With one arm he grasped 
 Roberta ; with the other, the sustaining spar. 
 He turned her dear white face to his own breast. 
 It was likely that their bodies would be cut and 
 bruised upon the jagged rocks ; but, if possible, 
 he would save from ruin the loveliness of his 
 Roberta's countenance. His own breast should 
 be its shield. 
 
 For a moment or two, they oscillated on the 
 mighty under-swell between waves ; then a 
 motion, tremendous as the upheaval of a world, 
 made Donald aware that the fatal wave was com- 
 ing. He clasped Roberta closer, and with the 
 great name of *' God" upon his lips, surrendered 
 himself and the being dearer than himself to the 
 mountainous rush of water to the blinding spray 
 -to the cruel rocks. 
 
 He knew no more. 
 
 His movements, however, had been appre-
 
 304 Farewell, Love. 
 
 bended by the crowd of watching fishermen, and 
 at their utmost speed, a party made for the exact 
 point where the bodies were likely to be cast. 
 Their intimate knowledge of the power and the 
 set of the tidal currents directed them with a 
 marvelous accuracy. Five minutes after the sea 
 had cast them upon the rocky coast, Roberta's 
 father lifted her tenderly in his arms. 
 
 " There is still life here !" he cried. " There 
 is still life here !" And, with a wonderful 
 rapidity, the fishers made a litter of the minis 
 ter's plaid, and carried the girl to her home. 
 
 Yet even in moments so precious, with the 
 sense of wrong burning in his heart, David Bal- 
 four did not forget to care for his enemy. He 
 had seen Donald's leap into the storm ; he knew 
 that if Roberta was saved, she owed her life to 
 Donald's love and courage ; and bitterly as he 
 reproached the young man in his mind, he could 
 not but admire his devotion, and pity his young 
 life lost. For Donald lay among the rocks, 
 bleeding from many a* wound, and the arm which
 
 Farewell, Love. 305 
 
 had encompassed Roberta had been broken ere 
 it surrendered its treasure. His eyes were wide 
 open, but quite unconscious. He was dead in 
 every sense ; he was stunned in every limb. 
 
 The minister turned from the piteous sight 
 with full eyes, and ere he hastened home with 
 his own child, said : 
 
 " Peter Mackenzie, I leave young Torquil 
 with you. Do your duty for him to the last 
 moment, and if I " 
 
 " There iss no neet to be telling me to do my 
 duty to the Torquil, Minister. It iss to my own 
 cottage I will pe takin' him. Yes, inteet, thank 
 God." 
 
 Fortunately for Donald, both Peter and his 
 wife were skilled in every means by which the 
 drowned are brought back to life ; and in an 
 hour's time Donald's soul had been reluctantly 
 called back to the ciay tenement where sore 
 suffering awaited it. For, though the heart 
 resumed its regular action and the lungs again 
 breathed the breath of life, Donald remained
 
 306 Farewell, Love. 
 
 unconscious, and it was evident that he had suf 
 fered some very severe internal injury. 
 
 " It iss a fight in the teeth of death he will pe 
 hafing," said Rosa, as she watched the young 
 man tossing and moaning through the dreadful 
 night. 
 
 Early in the morning Angus opened the door 
 of the cabin. He had managed to bring the 
 Sea Bird into harbor with the tide, and had 
 easily learned where to look for his young 
 master. 
 
 " He iss ferry ill, Rosa, and why then were 
 you not going for the minister ? The minister 
 iss as goot, yes, and petter, than any doctor at 
 aal." 
 
 "You will pe talking ferry foolish things 
 Angus Torquil. The minister iss a goot man 
 but he iss shust a man, and that iss aal. It 
 wouldt pe takin' God Almighty himself, to pe 
 helping the man who hat drowndt your only 
 childt. Yes, intcet !"
 
 Farewell, Love. 307 
 
 " Go for the minister, Rosa. It will pe hiss 
 duty. It will pe pehafing like a Christian." 
 
 " There iss times when a man will not want to 
 pehafe like a Christian. I will not pe asking the 
 minister to pe safing the life of his enemy." 
 
 " Ferry well, then, it iss pack to Torquil we 
 will pe going ; and you will pe going with us, 
 mirover, for you are a Torquil and ploot-kin to 
 Maister Tonalt, and hiss life will pe in your 
 hands, Rosa." 
 
 To this proposition, Rosa willingly agreed, 
 and without any delay the Sea Bird sailed south 
 ward. A sad voyage it was, although the wind 
 was fair and the skies bright. For Donald lay 
 bound in that land of awful shadows, which we 
 call delirium, and the tragedy of Roberta's 
 struggle for life was ever before him. He went 
 over and over it. Night and day he was watch 
 ing the girl's hard, brave fight with boisterous 
 winds and mountainous waves, her pitiful 
 abandonment of hope, her sudden disappearance, 
 when all the waves and billows went over her.
 
 308 Farewell, Love. 
 
 Terribie hours were spent in that little cabin on 
 the lonely ocean ; and both Angus and Rosa 
 were worn out when the Sea Bird cast her anchor 
 in Torquil Bay, at the gray dawn of the second 
 morning. 
 
 At the same moment the Master of Tasmer 
 was kneeling in the oratory, with the old ivory 
 beads in his hand. It was his custom, at the first 
 brightening of the night shadows, to follow the 
 advice of the wisest of men : " To prevent the 
 sun, to give God thanks, and at the dayspring 
 pray unto Him."* He had risen with a cheer 
 ful alacrity for the purpose, for his devotion was 
 a delight to him. It was no lip service ; he 
 really loved and adored the great Being before 
 whom he prostrated himself ; asking with a 
 cheerful and devout confidence : 
 
 " Give me grace, O Lord, to do what Thou 
 commandest, and command what Thou pleasest. 
 
 " Give me grace to suffer what Thou per- 
 mittest, and permit what Thou pleasest." 
 
 * Wisdom of Solomon. XVI. : 28.
 
 Farewell, Love. 309 
 
 Then full of peace he went into his own room, 
 and stood some minutes looking out over the sea. 
 Suddenly he was aware of the feet of men in 
 regular steps, and his heart grew apprehensive 
 and heavy as lead. He opened the casement 
 with trembling hands, and leaned forward to see 
 the sorrow that was coming. 
 
 Four strong fishers were carrying a mattress 
 on which his son lay bound. His face was like 
 clay, his eyes closed, he uttered heart-rending 
 cries of hopeless agony. Sir Rolfe went down 
 to meet him. Silently he led the way to 
 Donald's room ; and so they carried the young 
 lord to the chamber he had left a few days 
 before, in all the beauty and radiant expectancy 
 of love and hope. 
 
 Every dwelling is subject to the visits of some 
 terrible guests guests that lift the latch and 
 enter in, and ask no man's leave to do so. In 
 Tasmer's old rooms, pain and death sat waiting. 
 The sorrow of the day was answered by the 
 sorrow of the night; and human nature and
 
 3 io Farewell, Love. 
 
 earthly love would alike have failed, had not the 
 Christ, clothed in eternal patience, been also 
 there, waiting the hour of need. For it was 
 spring again before Donald Torquil escaped 
 from the Valley of the Shadow of Death. 
 
 The news of their brother's danger reached 
 Sara and Maclane in Rome, and they immediately 
 returned to Tasmer, where they found Sir Rolfe 
 and Father Contach almost exhausted with their 
 vigil, and their efforts to alleviate the sufferings 
 of the sick man. But Sara brought with her two 
 Sisters of Charity, and the advent of these gen 
 tle ministering souls introduced some comfort 
 and order into the worn-out household. But 
 withal they were sorrowful weeks, full of days 
 in which love watched breathlessly the struggle 
 for life, in which the Angel of Death was sensi 
 tively present, and the beating of his wings 
 almost heard by the living. 
 
 Donald scarcely wished to live ; for he believed 
 Roberta dead. No one spoke her name, and he 
 was himself unable to form the question his soul
 
 Farewell, Love. 317 
 
 constantly longed to ask. But though she had 
 vanished from this planet, she must be some 
 where in the universe of God. His soul followed 
 hard after her. He tugged at his mortal bands, 
 as a prisoner at the cords that bind him. " Let 
 me go to her ! Wherever she may be, merciful 
 God, let me go to her !" was the voiceless but 
 constant imploration of his heart. 
 
 One night he awoke from a long, long, troubled 
 sleep. He was out of pain. He was clearly con 
 scious, he was full of rest, though too weak to lift 
 a finger. His room seemed strange to him. The 
 tables were crowded with all the paraphernalia 
 of severe sickness, and his own special furniture 
 had been pushed aside to make space for large 
 chairs and lounges, suitable for the relief of 
 those who were worn out with watching. 
 
 In one of these chairs a Sister sat musing and 
 praying. Her face was like a holy book. She 
 was so still and calm, that the slight movement of 
 her fingers as they passed along the rosary was 
 noticeable. Donald derived a strange content in
 
 312 Farewell, Love. 
 
 watching her. It was like a dream of heaven, 
 after his long anguish of delirium, and he feared 
 to see it fade away. 
 
 In a little while she rose and came to his side. 
 
 "You were praying for me ?" whispered Don 
 ald, with a great effort. 
 
 " I was praying for you and Roberta." 
 
 Her voice was sweet and low ; her words were 
 like the words of an angel to him. He cried out, 
 as an infant might cry, weak and shrill ; and he 
 looked at her with such imploring eyes that she 
 understood him without speech. 
 
 "Roberta, also, has been very ill ; but she has 
 recovered. I was praying for her soul." 
 
 He could not answer. That one short, shrill 
 cry had exhausted his strength ; but large tears 
 of joy gathered in his hollow eyes; and the gen 
 tle Sister dried them, and with holy, hopeful 
 words soothed him to sleep again. 
 
 During his illness Sir Rolfe had watched his 
 son with a real sympathy. He was glad that 
 about Roberta they had no hard words and no
 
 Farewell, Love. 313 
 
 unkind feelings. From Angus he had heard the 
 whole tragical story, and his soul was full of pity 
 for the young girl who had so nearly lost her 
 life for love of his son. It was true that she had 
 been in the way of disobedience, and therefore 
 in the way of sin ; that she had deliberately 
 chosen her own pleasure, though she had to tear 
 it secretly through forbidden gates. But he 
 remembered her youth, and he understood what 
 a temptation a bright, handsome, adoring lover 
 like Donald must have been. Indeed, there were 
 hours when Donald lay on the very shoals and 
 sands of Time, in which he assured himself that 
 he would have been reasonable about the mar 
 riage, and that the tragedy was mainly due to 
 the proud, impracticable bigotry of Minister 
 Balfour. 
 
 He hoped, indeed, that the love of Donald and 
 Roberta would not survive the suffering it had 
 caused them. He knew how often men found 
 out, through burning fever and bodily pain and 
 weakness, that their passion was but the over-
 
 314 Farewell, Love. 
 
 flow of youth's impetuosity and emotion, and he 
 quite expected that his son would be cured of his 
 sickness and his love at the same time. 
 
 Possibly he might have been right, had 
 Donald's love for Roberta been simply the 
 desire of a young man for physical beauty. But 
 when love finds the soul of the beloved, then it 
 is an affection antedating this life, and holding 
 the promise of eternity. Truly Donald admired 
 Roberta's personal loveliness ; he felt the great 
 charm of her fresh vitality, her splendid coloring 
 and ner graceful movements ; but, after all, it 
 was Roberta s soul he loved the soul that looked 
 through her loving eyes into his soul -the soul 
 that drew like a magnet all the sweetness of his 
 own soul the soul that gave to her simplest 
 words hidden meanings sweet, vague memories 
 that stirred in him feelings for which he had 
 no name ; illimitable stretching backward and 
 forward, recalling, promising, binding him with 
 a thousand airy bonds, sweeter than life, stronger 
 than death, not to be broken and not to be for
 
 Farewell, Love. 315 
 
 gotten. While Roberta lived Donald knew that 
 he must love her. Though she went to the 
 uttermost parts of the earth, he must follow her. 
 
 One day at the close of March, Donald came 
 up from the village with a letter in his hand and 
 the strength of some sure purpose in his face. 
 He met the baron in the fir-wood, and he ans 
 wered the questioning glance at the letter with 
 out hesitation. 
 
 " It regards my company, father. The fur 
 lough granted on account of sickness is nearly 
 expired. I must resign or join my regiment. 
 It is ordered to Canada." 
 
 " Decide your own fate, Donald. We have 
 grown very close to each other during this sad 
 winter, and I shall be sorry to lose your com 
 panionship, I have ceased to expect your 
 co-operation in the improvements I am making 
 on Tasmer. I know that your disapproval of 
 them is beyond reasoning with." 
 
 " Have 1 said anything to offend you, father ?" 
 
 "You have given me no intentional offense."
 
 316 Farewell, Love. 
 
 Then Donald remembered that Sara had told 
 him how passionately in his delirious ravings he 
 had lamented the dispersion of their sept. 
 " Our father often turned white to his very 
 lips." " He was unable to bear your supplica 
 tions and your reproaches." " He felt that you 
 had thought in your sanest hours all that you 
 muttered and cried in your unconscious state." 
 So much Sara had said, and Donald understood 
 that the baron had resigned all hope of his 
 sympathy. He glanced at the pale, thoughtful 
 man by his side, and a sentiment of regret filled 
 his heart. He wished that he could have taken 
 his father's hand and said : "In all things per- 
 taining to Tasmer we will stand shoulder to 
 shoulder, sir." But Donald's opinion of the 
 " clearance" was still the same. He regarded it 
 as a movement at once unjust and unkind, and 
 of very doubtful advantage to the barony of 
 Tasmer. 
 
 " I think 1 had better join my company, 
 father. And it is my duty to tell you that Miss
 
 Farewell, Love. 317 
 
 Balfour has a right to be consulted. 1 thought 
 of going to Ellerloch to-morrow. Angus will 
 manage the boat." 
 
 Sir Rolfe stood still and looked reproachfully 
 at his son. 
 
 " You intend really to take again a road that 
 has nearly cost you your life? Does your infat 
 uation for that girl still rule you ?" 
 
 " It is not an infatuation, sir. It is love, holy 
 and strong. She promised to marry me when I 
 got my commission. I trust that she will still 
 be ready to keep her promise." 
 
 Then Sir Rolfe, with a haughty movement of 
 dismissal to his son, walked forward without 
 another word; and Donald was sensible of a 
 sudden moral shock and a quick physical faint- 
 ness. He leaned against one of the great fir- 
 trees and lifted his bonnet and let the fresh 
 March wind blow across his hot brow. He was 
 still so weak that the sensation of anger which 
 first assailed him made him tremble. He had 
 proved by such long and severe suffering his
 
 318 Fareivell, Love. 
 
 love for Rooerta Balfour that he felt that he 
 had, at least, a right to have that love recog 
 nized. A sense of injustice made him resent his 
 father's prejudice ; a sense of honor made him 
 impatient of any longer delay as regarded 
 Roberta. Angus thought it possible to take the 
 boat to Ellerloch, and he believed himself able 
 to take the journey. 
 
 During the weeks of his convalescence there 
 had been such a pleasant confidence between 
 himself and Sir Rolfe, that he felt keenly his 
 father's relapse into sympathetic silence. 
 Before leaving him for the night he made an 
 effort to break it. 
 
 " Dear father," he said, " I must go to Eller 
 loch to-morrow ; do not let me go with your 
 anger. I made a promise to Miss Balfour last 
 September ; do you think that my sickness and 
 the lapse of time have absolved me from it ?" 
 " What promise did you make her ?" 
 " I promised to make her my wife." 
 " Then do so. As a gentleman, you can do no
 
 Farewell, Love. 319 
 
 less. The wrong was in the promise. If it 
 affected only yourself, I should say break it, 
 though you broke your heart, also ; but a 
 promise made to a woman who loves you is 
 inviolable. Go to Ellerloch and marry the girl, 
 if you wish, and make much of her love ; it will 
 be all that is left you." 
 
 " My dear father 
 
 " If I be dear, where is your obedience ?" 
 
 He rose with the question, and passed into 
 the oratory ; and Donald, trembling with 
 physical weakness and mental trouble, fell upon 
 the nearest couch and shut in the heavy tears 
 behind his closed eyelids, and his clasped hands 
 above them. 
 
 In the morning, with the early tide, he started 
 for Ellerloch. Angus came up to the castle for 
 him ; and leaning upon his strong arm, Donald 
 walked through the firs and out of their dewy 
 stillness into the keen salt breeze of the gray 
 Minch water-way. The dawn was just edging 
 the gneiss with pinkish, pallid hues, and on the
 
 320 Farewell, Love. 
 
 desolate ancient hills the delicate green of thin 
 grass dyed the tint of the rock. A heavy rain 
 in the night had deadened the breeze, and, as it 
 often does in the Minch, had swung it away 
 round to the southeast. 
 
 Donald looked lovingly at the sky and the 
 sea, and the white streaks of foam and the spent 
 swell breaking among the boulders. He bent 
 over the boat's nose, to see how she was rising 
 and falling in the water, and felt quite satisfied 
 with her trend forward. The peace, xhe lulling, 
 cradling motion, the fresh, life-laden wind, 
 soothed him inexpressibly. He lay down in his 
 sea-blankets at the stern, and idly watching the 
 forlorn headlands and the vapory edges of the 
 fells, he let the swing of the boat lull him into 
 the soundest, sweetest, deepest, longest sleep he 
 had ever known. 
 
 Angus had the patience and wisdom of love. 
 He pushed forward the Sea Bird and let Donald 
 sleep. Hour after hour passed, and the young 
 man never moved. It was near sunset when he
 
 Farewell, Love. 321 
 
 lifted his head and looked at the old treeless 
 coast, and the black hills lining it. The boat 
 was luffiing under them, to keep the failing 
 breeze ; and the very sadness of their ragged 
 edges, draped in mist, touched and comforted 
 him. It was the same somber look which 
 charmed the early saints, and girded these 
 solitary headlands with their cells. He looked 
 at them with something of awe in his face, for 
 the Sea Bird was rippling their very shadows. 
 
 The next day, with a fair wind, they reached 
 Ellerloch in the afternoon, and Donald went at 
 once to David Balfour's house. The little maid 
 servant let him enter with a frightened look. 
 She said the minister was in the parlor, and as 
 she spoke, softly opened the door. 
 
 Balfour was alone. He was sitting by the fire 
 lost in thought. His right hand lay upon his 
 knee, his left upon an open book at his side. 
 When Donald spoke, he rose to his feet, his 
 stern face softened and flushed, he went forward
 
 322 Farewell, Love. 
 
 a step or two, and offered his hand to the young 
 man. 
 
 " I am glad to see you once more, Torquil, in 
 the land of the living." 
 
 " Sir, I am glad to see you. I wish first of all 
 to say, forgive me." 
 
 " When I forgave Roberta, I forgave you also. 
 Shall I be less merciful than He who said : ' Go 
 in peace, and sin no more.' " 
 
 " Sir, we truly sinned against your father-love 
 and authority ; but wherein else have we done 
 wrong? Can it be sin to love as 1 love 
 Roberta? Oh, no, sir! Give me Roberta for 
 my wife. In the face of God and man, give her 
 to me ; and then " 
 
 " Has Baron Torquil given you permission to 
 ask for my daughter ?" 
 
 " Alas, no, sir ! but" 
 
 " Neither do I." 
 
 "Roberta loves me. Do not force us to a 
 clandestine marriage. I wish to deal honorably 
 with you, sir."
 
 farewell, Love. 323 
 
 " I do not fear Roberta. Her lesson has been 
 a sufficient one. Sir, I will deal honorably and 
 kindly with you, and for this end, I will speak 
 plainly. I will not give you Roberta. I will 
 never sanction a marriage between you. I think 
 Roberta is so much my daughter as to refuse a 
 marriage which God himself interfered to 
 prevent. He separated you with His wind and 
 His waves. You had planned for yourselves a 
 dwelling in the Land of Love. He took you 
 both to the Land of the Shadow of Death. If 
 you did not learn there how dreadful a thing a 
 disobedient and unequally yoked marriage is, 
 Roberta learned the lesson. She comes. Let 
 her speak both for herself and for you." 
 
 As he ceased, Roberta opened the door. She 
 entered with a swift movement, holding her 
 level palms and raised face toward Donald. He 
 stretched out his arms, trembling almost sob 
 bing with emotion and she fled to them, as a 
 brooding bird to its nest. Balfour glanced at 
 their meeting faces ; both so beautiful, both so
 
 324 Farewell, Love, 
 
 full of love and sorrow ; and instead of separat 
 ing the lovers, he left them alone. He pitied 
 their suffering; he had no wish to be a witness 
 to it. 
 
 He went into his study, and walked restlessly 
 about. He could hear the murmur of their 
 voices Donald's passionate pleading^ Roberta's 
 sad, dissenting tones, and low, distressful weep- 
 ing. He would not interfere. Whatever was 
 their decision, they must reach it alone. Cer 
 tainly, he suffered with them. In spite of the 
 trouble Donald had caused him, he liked the 
 young man ; and though he called this liking " a 
 weakness," and reproved himself for indulging in 
 it, it enabled him to understand his daughter's 
 great love for Donald Torquil, and to pity her 
 for it. 
 
 He had told himself that he would give the 
 lovers half an hour in which to comfort each 
 other for their hard fate. When it was over, he 
 went back to them. His glance fell first upon 
 Donald. Never had the youth looked so bril-
 
 Farewell, Love. 325 
 
 liantly beautiful. His long sickness had given 
 to his fine, fair face a singular delicacy, and the 
 tide of life beneath shone through it, as a light 
 through a Parian vase. He leaned against a tall 
 black cabinet ; he was trembling with eagerness 
 and feeling ; his hands were holding Roberta's 
 hands ; his eyes were fixed upon her ; he was 
 pleading as men plead for the one true love that 
 is granted them in this life. 
 
 And if ever a woman is beautiful, it is in the 
 presence of such an adorer. Balfour now under 
 stood his daughter's marvelous charm. In that 
 momentary glance he saw it all the superbly 
 tall, slender figure, in its straight, long robe of 
 dark tartan ; the exquisitely formed and tinted 
 face ; the large, dark, soulful eyes, drawing like 
 a spiritual magnet the soul they looked into ; the 
 shadowing cloud of black hair, falling in innu 
 merable waves and tendrils about her temples, 
 throat and shoulders. It was an instantaneous 
 picture of human loveliness, never to be forgot 
 ten.
 
 326 Farewell, Love. 
 
 He came toward them, and Donald turned 
 pleadingly to him. 
 
 "Speak for me, sir!" he cried. "Alas! I 
 have no advocate but you. By the love of our 
 dear, common God, have pity upon me!" 
 
 '\Torquil, I have most pity on you when I say, 
 what I see Roberta has already said : ' There 
 can be no question of love between Donald Tor- 
 quil and Roberta Balfour.' " 
 
 " Father, I said not that. There is love, undy 
 ing love, between Donald and myself. I said 
 only that there could be no question of marriage 
 between us." 
 
 "But the reason, sir? The reason? Is not 
 true love the foundation of marriage ? Is there 
 any other foundation but love ? I love Roberta, 
 and she loves me." 
 
 " There is the difference in your faith." 
 
 " What have creeds to do with love? Love is 
 above them. Whenever did love ask of any man 
 or woman : ' What church do you worship in ?' " 
 
 " True. It is faith that must ask what church
 
 Farewell, Love. 327 
 
 love worships in. There is also the difference of 
 race." 
 
 " My love touches not such a small question.. 
 Race is for the body. I love Roberta with my 
 soul. Our souls have one parentage the 
 Father of Spirits." 
 
 " Donald ! Donald Torquil! Reason not with 
 me. Conscience is above reason. Conscience is 
 not to be moved either by pity or reason or favor. 
 My conscience forbids this marriage. My God 
 himself punished you both for its intention. 
 Will He always remember mercy in His judg 
 ments ? We have no right to expect it. Do not 
 dare again to provoke Him to anger." 
 
 " Think you that God Almighty ordered the 
 storm specially for our reproof ?" 
 
 " Yea ; I am sure of it." 
 
 " I think kinder and nobler things of my God. 
 I read in my Bible that ' Love and the way of 
 good works are from Him.'* True love is of 
 the nature of God, pure and eternal." 
 
 *Eccle. II.: 15.
 
 328 Farewell, Love. 
 
 " Roberta, my child, say farewell to Donald 
 Torquil. I forbid you to speak longer with him. 
 Even now I have let a foolish tenderness pro 
 long an inevitable parting." 
 
 " I will never resign Roberta. She is my own 
 beloved wife. She was born for me. No man 
 can rob me of her and be innocent. My Roberta ! 
 You will never forget me ?" 
 
 "Never! Never! Never, Donald! Never 
 in life or eternity !" 
 
 " I am going to Canada. I know not for how 
 long. Be sure, however, that sooner or later, I 
 will come to claim you." 
 
 He drew her to his breast and kissed her pale 
 face and wet eyes kissed her with the heart 
 breaking, holy tenderness with which we kiss 
 the dead ; and resigning her to her father's con 
 solation, left her so, without a word of farewell 
 to him. But Balfour took no offense at the 
 omission. He set his lips firmly, as he held 
 Roberta in his arms, and watched Donald going 
 with swinging, rapid steps to the Sea Bird.
 
 Farewell, Love. 329 
 
 Suddenly Roberta disengaged herself from 
 her father's embrace. She left the room and 
 hastily fled up-stairs. In a few minutes she left 
 the house. Balfour did not attempt to stay her. 
 He divined her motive and understood that it 
 would give an active finality to the parting. 
 
 She followed Donald's footsteps very quickly ; 
 but the young man was in that frenzy of feeling 
 which demands rapidity of action. When she 
 reached the little pier, Angus was getting the 
 canvas aloft, and the boat was going like a race 
 horse before the wind. Donald stood at the 
 bow, with his face southward. A cry from 
 Roberta made him quickly turn. He saw her 
 on the very verge of the slip. Her arm was 
 extended and in her hand there was a flutter of 
 lawn, like the beating of a bird's white wing. 
 Her face, in the grayness of all around her, 
 showed white as light. For the rain beat upon 
 her blowing garments, and the wind blew back 
 her hood and scattered her dark hair. She 
 heeded nothing and she saw nothing but the
 
 ,33 Farewell, Love. 
 
 swiftly vanishing boat and the tall figure stand 
 ing bareheaded watching her. 
 
 With an inexorable rapidity the boat drove on 
 till she passed the point near by the rocky coast 
 where Roberta had once faced death in Donald's 
 arms. The thought made the girl cry out in 
 an agony of remorseful memory. How could 
 she give him up? Her heart bitterly reproached 
 her, as she went slowly homeward, weeping 
 under her close-drawn hood and whispering to 
 the wet, wild wind : 
 
 " Farewell, love ! Farewell, love /"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AT THE LAST PEACE. 
 
 " Sweet Mercy ! to the gates of Heaven, 
 This mortal lead, his sins forgiven ; 
 The rueful conflict, the heart riven, 
 
 With vain endeavor ; 
 And memory of earth's bitter leaven, 
 
 Effaced forever." 
 
 " O ! fading honors of the dead J 
 O ! high ambition lowly laid." 
 
 Time is a sword. It smites everything mortal 
 youth, beauty, delights of all kinds. And 
 when a man has passed sixty years of age, how 
 dark is the angle of life which remains to him ! 
 And this, not because he has few joys, but 
 because he has ceased to hope. He can no*
 
 332 At the Last Peace. 
 
 longer delude himself with a future which lies in 
 the shadow of the grave. 
 
 Sir Rolfe stood mournfully one day at the 
 gates of Tasmer, feeling the full force of this 
 truth. He had not realized his expectations, 
 and he did not anticipate their more perfect ful 
 fillment. The men and the women of Torquil 
 bens and Tasmer braes had disappeared. There 
 were no barelegged children running about the 
 straths, and no picturesque cottages overgrown 
 with mosses and stone wort in the sheltered cran 
 nies; and there were thousands of sheep, and 
 many perfectly built and symmetrical sheep, 
 iolds, but the change had brought him neither 
 
 2the wealth nor the satisfaction he had hoped. 
 .Lady Moidart had judged wisely that the 
 
 clearance policy at Tasmer would be weakened 
 by counteracting principles. Besides which, Sir 
 Rolfe's health undermined by long residence in 
 India was unable to endure the cold of the 
 mountains. In a large measure he had to leave 
 
 everything to the supervision of shepherds and
 
 At the Last Peace. 333 
 
 gamekeepers, who had no salutary fear of his 
 personal inspection. 
 
 And now there had come a sudden and 
 critical change in his personal condition. He 
 knew that morning, as he stood watching the 
 gray old sea, that his days were numbered, and 
 gravely solemn thoughts passed through the old 
 knight's mind. He looked over the Minch 
 dimpling in the sunshine, and a swift and irresis 
 tible desire to feel the swell and motion of the 
 ocean came to him. 
 
 There had been for some years a growing 
 hatred between the Torquii and the Melvich 
 fishermen, and in the last season it had 
 assumed a dangerous character. Melvich had 
 just sold his estate ; what if he sailed as far as 
 Melvich loch and saw the new proprietor? 
 It would be wiser and kinder than to leave 
 to Donald the inheritance of an unsettled 
 quarrel. 
 
 As these thoughts passed through his mind, 
 Angus approached, and his unusual presence
 
 334 At the Last Peace. 
 
 decided the baron. He bade the young fisher 
 get the Sea Bird ready and go up the coast 
 with him. Angus feared the Sea Bird was 
 " too long at anchor to be safe at aal ;" and 
 Sir Rolfe, who was easily made positive by a 
 little opposition, sent him for his own fishing 
 smack. 
 
 . As they sailed northward a handsome shoot 
 ing lodge, perched among the heather of Ben 
 Sana, attracted Sir Rolfe's notice, and he asked 
 Angus, with a faint curiosity, if the new owner 
 of Melvich had built it ? 
 
 41 They were saying it wass Lord Lenox 
 built the lodge," answered Angus ; " and they 
 were saying, mirover, that it iss aal the Mel 
 vich landt he hass peen puying ; for he iss a rich 
 man, a rael rich man, and mirover, a mean man 
 iss he. He hass the goldt, and he has the landt, 
 put there iss not in aal Scotlandt so poor a 
 man ass he iss ! For he will not pe spending 
 anything at aal, and the rich wife he wass 
 marrit on, she wass soon leafing him, and there
 
 At the Last Peace. 335 
 
 were many padt wordts about it. Yes, inteet ! 
 Have you peen hearing of the trouble, sir ?" 
 
 " No one has spoken to me of it, Angus." 
 
 " They were saying and it is the God's truth, 
 sir they were saying that he wass a rael miser. 
 He cleared hiss place, and then when the people 
 were aal sent away he began to safe money, and 
 the more he was safing then the more he wass 
 wanting to safe. So it was house after house, 
 acre after acre, as I haf peen toldt. 'Tis a poor 
 way to pe spending one's life, sir ! 'Tis a poor 
 way, whateffer." 
 
 " It is, indeed, Angus. Such men are the 
 devil's scorn and mockery, for they neither get 
 this world nor yet escape the second death." 
 
 " I am a ferry poor man myself, but I will not 
 pe so poor a man as Lord Lenox is. No inteet, 
 thank God !" 
 
 " There is a great difference between you and 
 Lord Lenox, Angus. You are poor, and 
 poverty is in want of some things. He is avari 
 cious, and avarice is in want of everything."
 
 336 At the Last Peace. 
 
 This conversation turned the baron's thoughts 
 back to the young man he had known seven 
 years before. The events of that time looked 
 far past. He remembered Lenox, full of ambi 
 tions, to which gold was to be only the stepping- 
 stone. When they met he found that gold had 
 become his god and the goal of all his aims. 
 His finer qualities had evaporated in the strug 
 gle for it. He had forgotten all his enthusiasms 
 and dissipated all his illusions. The sunrise for 
 Lenox had melted into the light of common 
 day ; the air was emptied of wonder ; his soul 
 had fallen to the quality of the thing it 
 worked in. 
 
 He drove a hard bargain with Torquil. No 
 memory of the baron's hospitality or of the 
 beautiful Sara, whom he had once loved as well 
 as he could love any woman, softened it. Tor 
 quil left Melvich humbled and sad and full of 
 vague regrets. When he got fairly out to 
 sea a strang desire came to him. He wished to 
 go to Ellerloch, and he bid Angus take the boat
 
 At the Last Peace. 337 
 
 there. He wondered, indeed, over the strange 
 impulse; but, then, a man has very little knowl 
 edge of himself who does not often regard his 
 own thoughts and actions with wonder and 
 curiosity. 
 
 No distinct purpose was in his mind ; but as 
 they voyaged onward in the calm of the summer 
 day, in the starlight and the moonlight, listen 
 ing for miles and miles to the endless crash of 
 the Alantic swell, the purpose lormed itself 
 clearly enough. He was sure of it when the 
 boat ran into the little harbor in an afternoon 
 rain-storm. Grim and lonely looked the small 
 stone cabins, with their slate roofs shining in the 
 heavy shower. But he took small note of the 
 village. He left Angus with the boat, and 
 walked straight to the minister's house. Bal- 
 four was out, and it was Roberta who welcomed 
 their visitor. The tall, soldierly figure, though 
 wan and much shrunken, struck her with admir 
 ation. When he spoke, his voice had tones and 
 inflections which stirred her heart to tears. She
 
 338 At the Last Peace. 
 
 insisted that he should take off his wet cloak ; 
 she had the fire replenished ; she made him a 
 cup of most refreshing tea. 
 
 Sir Rolfe watched her movements with the 
 greatest interest. He admired her beauty, and 
 wondered a little over its uncommon type. For, 
 if Roberta, at nineteen years of age, had been a 
 lovely girl, she was, at twenty-three, a superbly 
 perfect woman. A great, kind soul looked 
 through her fathomless eyes ; her ways were 
 exquisitely womanly ; her voice low and sweet ; 
 her hands white and beautifully formed hands 
 made to help and caress. 
 
 She had no idea of his identity and she talked 
 to him with the utmost freedom. He admired 
 her intelligence ; perhaps he admired still more 
 the elegance and propriety of her dress. For 
 Roberta had a native taste which always fitted ' 
 itself to times and circumstances. The long, 
 straying tresses, which had been so suitable to 
 her girlhood, were now picturesquely braided 
 and coiled, and added much to her stature and
 
 At the Last Peace. 339 
 
 dignity. The dark tartan of her dress was of 
 more ample length ; her collar was closed with 
 a massive brooch of gold ; her manner was 
 grave and gentle, and her movements very 
 graceful. She seemed to the baron the ideal of 
 an exquisite womanhood, and she involuntarily 
 stamped the purpose which had brought him to 
 Ellerloch as desirable and excellent. 
 
 He was sipping his tea and talking to her 
 when the minister entered. Balfour's face 
 flushed at the sight, but his finer and nobler 
 instincts instantly ruled. 
 
 " You are most welcome, Baron," he said, and 
 he frankly put his hand into the one offered him. 
 Perhaps he was conscious of a slight reluctance, 
 but it was instantly conquered. And in a few 
 moments the two men sat together upon tha 
 same hearth ; the minister expectant, cautious, 
 desirous of good will ; the baron conciliating, 
 anticipative of the next world, careless ot the 
 petty animosities of this one. 
 
 The minister spoke first.
 
 34 At the Last Peace. 
 
 " Torquil, you have taken a long journey ?" 
 
 " I am about to take a much longer one, sir 
 even to ' the Land very far off.' I desired to 
 speak to you before my departure." 
 
 There was a moment's silence, and Sir Rolfe's 
 thin, wan face reddened vividly, as he con 
 tinued : 
 
 " I I I wish to say pardon my ill words to 
 you and of you. This confession alone can give 
 me ease ; it is the only adequate penance. A 
 good Christian ought not to have spoken as I 
 have done about you and yours." 
 
 "I have been equally guilty, Baron. I ask 
 your pardon, also." 
 
 The two men leaned toward each other ; they 
 clasped hands, and the minister said some words, 
 sacred, secret, confidential no more to be 
 spoken of than was that mysterious acknowl 
 edgment and pardon that must have taken 
 place when the repentant Peter met the risen 
 Christ by the Lake of Tiberius. 
 
 In a short time Roberta entered with refresh-
 
 At the Last Peace. 341 
 
 ments, and the conversation became more gen 
 eral. And never had Sir Rolfe been more lov 
 ing and charming. He told them incidents of 
 his youth in India tales of forlorn and desperate 
 valor stubborn fights with adverse circum 
 stances or desperate foes ; and with the light of 
 victory on his face, kindled the cheeks of those 
 who listened to him. Then he spoke of Tasmer, 
 and of the deeds of his fierce ancestors the 
 bare-armed thanes of Ross, who had piled its 
 massive masonry, and watched from its high 
 walls the incursions of the great clans by which 
 they were surrounded. 
 
 Roberta rose as he finished ; she opened the 
 piano, and, with a quick, nervous touch, struck 
 from its keys the pibroch of his clan. No earthly 
 music could have so deeply moved the old 
 knight. He murmured the gathering song to it 
 a few words too fierce for any melody the 
 invocation of arming men to the bloody com 
 panies of the birds of prey. 
 
 When the music ceased, both player and singer
 
 34 2 At the Last Peace. 
 
 had said everything to each other's hearts that 
 could be said. With a kindly, kindling glance, 
 the baron clasped Roberta's hand in his own, and 
 then bowed his head to kiss it. Roberta, with a 
 quick divination of his intention, lifted her face 
 and kissed him. She kissed him for that he was 
 Donald's father. She kissed him for his own 
 charming lovableness. For, whatever the baron 
 had been in the stress and struggle of life, he 
 was now, when at the threshold of the grave, 
 wonderfully childlike and Christlike. 
 
 Roberta then left the two men alone. She 
 could not but speculate on the purport of the 
 baron's visit to Ellerloch, and she could not 
 avoid believing that it was a kind one to Donald 
 and herself. Surely her father would be tender 
 and reasonable with a dying man. Balfour 
 wished to be so, but, even while Roberta was 
 speculating about his attitude, the minister was 
 assuring his conscience that he would not wrong- 
 it a tittle for any plea of mere human kindness. 
 
 The baron sat silent, until the last vibrations
 
 At the Last Peace. 343 
 
 of the stirring, war-like pibroch had died out of 
 the atmosphere, then his first remark was a 
 reflection upon the sympathy between music and 
 life. 
 
 " Balfour," he said, " our life is very like music 
 in one respect ; there is a constant wandering 
 from the key-note in a thousand harmonies and 
 combinations ; but the player always returns to 
 the key-note at last." 
 
 " And the key-note of a good life is God." 
 
 " Even so, Balfour. Let me carry out the 
 simile. Quick melodies, without great devia 
 tions from the key-note, are like our pibrochs, 
 joyous or stirring; slow melodies, which only 
 reach it after painful dissonances and frequent 
 changes, are sad. Do you understand ?" 
 
 " You mean that lives that never wander far 
 from God are joyous and strong? You mean 
 that those which only reach Him after long 
 deviations into paths leading nowhere, and paths 
 leading in wrong directions, are full of sadness 
 and of many fears ?"
 
 344 At the Last Peace. 
 
 " That is what 1 mean. I have been a great 
 wanderer, but I have reached the key-note 
 again. The music of my life is nearly finished." 
 
 Then, with a sudden access of interest, he lifted 
 his face quickly, and asked : 
 
 " What are we to do about our children ?" 
 
 The question was so abrupt that Balfour was 
 startled by its imperative demand. He looked 
 steadily at the baron, reflected a moment, and 
 answered : 
 
 " We are to do right, Sir Rolfe ; we are to do 
 right. We are to do what in the hour and arti 
 cle of death our souls will approve." 
 
 "Just so, Balfour. I was once bitterly 
 opposed to Donald's marriage with your 
 daughter. That was when death was not in my 
 thoughts. Now that we are ' familiars/ 1 think 
 differently ; now that I have seen Roberta Baifour 
 I am anxious that Donald should have so fair, so 
 good a woman for his wife. Do not deny them 
 your sanction any longer. Donald may be home 
 any day. Let him have your consent to visit
 
 At the Last Peace. 345 
 
 Roberta. I would wish to welcome her to Tas- 
 mer while I am yet its master. You see how 
 short and frail my tenure now is." And he 
 stretched out his thin, white hands, and looked 
 into Balfour's face with eyes in which there was 
 already the far-off look of a soul watching for its 
 own eternity. 
 
 " I cannot speak in a hurry. I cannot prom 
 ise. I may sin away my child's soul." 
 
 " Only leave Roberta to her own conscience ; 
 that is all I ask. You permit no one to dictate 
 to your conscience ; give your daughter the same 
 liberty. We are at the close of life. Shall our 
 prejudices any longer darken their youth, and 
 make bare and barren their days ? Balfour, it is 
 a great injustice to them. I have been wrong 
 and cruel. I have asked of God this favor ; to 
 right the wrong before I go away forever." 
 
 " You trouble me, Torquil. You trouble me 
 greatly. I must talk with my conscience. I 
 must talk with my God. I wish to do right 
 only right."
 
 346 At the Last Peace. 
 
 " I believe you. Can it be wrong for us tx> 
 give our children the same liberty of conscience 
 we claim as an inalienable right for ourselves ? 
 They are of full age they are responsible to 
 God. Let us trust them. I am weary now. I 
 have said what I came to say. Let me sleep 
 under your roof." 
 
 There was a moral grandeur in the humility 
 of this request. Balfour was greatly touched 
 by it. He gave the dying man his arm to lean 
 upon. He assisted him in the removal of his 
 raiment ; he softly repeated the Benediction at 
 his bedside ere he left him. Torquil slept 
 soundly and peacefully as a child. Balfour 
 paced his study floor the whole night long. 
 The baron had sheltered himself higher than all 
 creeds, even in the infinite love of his Maker ; 
 the minister had the restless pain of one who 
 tries to confine the immortal spirit within the 
 lines of a human creed. 
 
 With the morning tide the baron left Eller- 
 loch. He leaned upon Roberta's arm as he
 
 At the Last Peace. 347 
 
 walked to the pier, and he treated her as a 
 daughter, though he never named Donald. At 
 the last, the two men parted like those who trust 
 in God and in each other. 
 
 " We shall meet again, Torquil," said the 
 minister. 
 
 " We shall meet again somewhere some 
 day in the kingdom of God. Farewell, 
 Roberta." 
 
 Then as the boat left the pier, he waved his 
 hand over the sparkling waters and said, with a 
 smile : 
 
 " Is not this ' great sea ' beautiful ? But there 
 is to be no sea there. Shall we not miss it, I 
 wonder?" 
 
 He was too far away to hear Balfour's answer. 
 The north wind and the flowing tide were driv 
 ing the boat before them. Balfour watched the 
 tall figure, sitting motionless, with troubled 
 eyes. He turned homeward with Roberta 
 and was speechless. It was not until they
 
 348 At the Last Peace. 
 
 reached the gate of the manse garden that 
 Roberta said : 
 
 " Baron Torquil is a true nobleman. But is 
 he not very ill, father ?" 
 
 " He is dying, but I think I hope yes, I 
 truly believe, 
 
 " ' Into that dark, he takes with him a Light ; 
 The Lamp that can illuminate the grave.' " 
 
 When Sir Rolfe reached Tasmer again, he 
 found that Sara and his little granddaughter 
 Patricia had arrived during his absence. They 
 were not unexpected. He was quite aware that 
 the tone of his last letter to Sara would make 
 her understand that his days were numbered. 
 Her arrival was a great comfort, and her tender 
 care of him probably prolonged his life. He 
 was also greatly attached to Patricia. In the 
 gloaming he generally asked for her, and the 
 child expected and liked the visit. In her white 
 night-dress she was laid in his arms, and he 
 crooned softly to her, half-talking and half-sing 
 ing until the little maid was fast asleep. And
 
 At the Last Peace. 349 
 
 often, when Sara came for the child, she 
 found the baby hands clasping the Beads of 
 Tasiner, and the dying- grandfather praying 
 above them. 
 
 He seemed to tarry on earth only to see his 
 son. But Donald was in a position where 
 obedience to orders was imperative; and there 
 was some necessary delay in procuring the 
 authority which gave him freedom to return to 
 Tasmer. But he came at last. Sir Rolfe heard 
 Sara's voice in joyous modulations, and he knew 
 what it meant. She had been walking in the fir- 
 wood, and had there met her brother. 
 
 The meeting between father and son was 
 solemnly affectionate ; and these few last days 
 united them with an indissoluble bond. There 
 was now perfect confidence between them. 
 They spoke of Roberta ; and Donald received 
 his father's full approval of his choice. He 
 made no allusion to the years which had been 
 darkened by opposition and exile. A sweet 
 restraint forbade all reproach. He apprehended
 
 350 At the Last Peace. 
 
 that his father had also suffered disappointment 
 and loneliness. Both had forgiven. At the last 
 there was a great love and a great peace. 
 
 One night, just at sunset, he spoke to Donald 
 about the " clearance." It was the only time he 
 named it. His eyes filled with their last tears as 
 he said : 
 
 " It was a mistake ; it was a great wrong ; it 
 was a great failure, Donald. I gave fifty pounds 
 to assist in sending my people from me. I 
 would give fifty thousand pounds to see them 
 on Tasmer braes again." 
 
 " If ever I have the power I will bring them 
 back, father." 
 
 " You promise?" 
 
 " Solemnly !" 
 
 " For the peace of my soul, do it." 
 
 Then he sent Donald away and asked for 
 Patricia. The child was asleep in his arms 
 when Sara came, half an hour afterward, for 
 her. Father and daughter smiled in each other's 
 face, as the babe was lifted from the old arms ;
 
 At the Last Peace. 351 
 
 for, to a lonely father, a daughter is very dear, 
 and Sara sat close to Sir Rolfe's heart. It was 
 their last " good-night." It was their parting 
 smile. 
 
 An hour afterward Father Matthew entered 
 the room. As the baron was absent, he sup 
 posed him to be engaged in the oratory, and he 
 sat down to wait. But after a little while he 
 became sensible of that strange silence which 
 accompanies death. He stood up and listened 
 intently. There was no movement. There was 
 no echo of sigh or prayer. He pushed aside the 
 door very gently. Sir Rolfe lay upon his face, 
 at the foot of the great white crucifix, with the 
 ivory beads in his hand. His cold fingers 
 marked the last " Our Father " which his lips 
 had said.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE SECRET OF THE BEADS. 
 
 " For modes of Faith, let graceless zealots fight ; 
 He can't be wrong whose life is in the right." 
 
 So, Sir Rolfe died, and so, in his last years, he 
 would have desired to go. Yet Donald remem 
 bered how once, when he was a lad, he had heard 
 his father wish to die as a soldier " with tumult, 
 with shouting, and with the sound of the trum 
 pet." But who has the oracle of his death ? 
 Only God knows the place and the manner in 
 which a soul shall meet its latest enemy. 
 
 They had all loved him dearly. He had true 
 friendship, and, in the main, affectionate 
 obedience; yet, before the majesty of death, each 
 living soul of his household bowed itself humbly, 
 and acknowledged : " I have done too little."
 
 The Secret of the Beads. 353 
 
 In the long- past centuries when it was unsafe 
 to let their neighbors know that the head of the 
 clan was dead, the Torquils had begun to bury 
 their dead at midnight. For unnumbered gen 
 erations it had been the custom, and Sir Rolfe 
 had expressed a wish to have it conformed to in 
 his own case. It was then necessary to keep the 
 dead for many days. Friends were to notify, and 
 facilities were few and slow. It was not until 
 midnight of the eighth day after his death that 
 Sir Rolfe was laid among his forefathers. Dur 
 ing these eight days, he lay in the room which 
 he had mostly occupied. The August sun fell 
 brightly upon his worn, white face; the fresh 
 winds from the ocean blew over it. How tran 
 quil, how distant, how grandly, terribly differ 
 ent he was ! But his lips kept, until the last 
 moment, the faint, glad smile of one who had 
 died dreaming of heaven. 
 
 The burial night was still and warm. There 
 was no moon, and at midnight every fisher and 
 shepherd haying the least claim to a drop of the
 
 354 The Secret of the Beads. 
 
 Torquil blood came up to Tasmer. Each 
 carried a blazing torch ; and in this fitful light 
 they carried Baron Rolfe to his resting-place in 
 Torquil church-yard. All the midnight spaces 
 were filled with the heavenly, peaceful echoes of 
 the burial service recited in a solemnly trium 
 phant voice by Father Matthew. When it was 
 finished, every man extinguished his torch at the 
 grave-side, and, with a silent lifting of their 
 bonnets in a last " farewell " to the dead chief, 
 they scattered, 
 
 Sara was weeping on her husband's arm. 
 Donald looked down into the grave with tear 
 less eyes, but his heart shuddered constantly as 
 he watched torch after torch extinguished in the 
 open, narrow house, which was soon to be 
 closed forever. At length the light was nearly 
 gone ; he was conscious that only one torch 
 remained. Some one on the opposite side of the 
 grave held it. He looked up, and saw it was in 
 the hand of Balfour. Roberta stood by his side.
 
 The Secret of the Beads. 355 
 
 It was the first glimpse of her dear face he had 
 had for years. 
 
 Their eyes met in one long, loving, sorrowful 
 gaze ; involuntarily Donald stretched out his 
 hand ; involuntarily Roberta touched it. They 
 met they clasped above the grave above the 
 closed coffin of the kind old knight who had 
 pleaded their cause so well. 
 
 The act, simple and touching, and full of a sad 
 significance, powerfully affected Balfour. He 
 took his daughter's hand and turned toward the 
 gate of the inclosure. As they trod silently the 
 narrow path, some one spoke, some one touched 
 Roberta's arm and stayed them. It was Sara. 
 In a voice trembling with sorrow, she said : 
 
 " Mr. Balfour. My brother has often been 
 your guest. Come up to the castle with us, 
 to-night you and Miss Balfour." 
 
 " We cannot." 
 
 He spoke with difficulty, and with a decision 
 that seemed unkind, but which was really the 
 result of a tumult of feeling he was trying to
 
 356 The Secret of the Beads. 
 
 control. Sara and Mr. Maclane urged him a 
 little, and, during the passing conversation, 
 Donald took Roberta's hand. Before her 
 father before his sister and his friends with 
 the priest standing near, he lifted her face 
 and solemnly kissed it there. It was a new 
 betrothal. It was a promise to which he called 
 as witnesses the dead and the living of his house. 
 It was a fresh claim upon Roberta, and Balfour 
 was almost angry at the advantage which it 
 gave to Donald. 
 
 After that kiss it was easy to refuse the hos 
 pitality of Tasmer. In short, he would not be 
 persuaded by any plea of Maclane's good feel 
 ing, nor of Sara's courtesy, nor of Donald's love. 
 He was, indeed, a little irritated by the discus- 
 tion, and he said not a word to his daughter, as 
 they journeyed over the cheerless sea, depressed 
 by the infinite solitude of the dark waters and 
 the still greater solitude of hearts, each nursing 
 its own sense of wrong. 
 
 On the whole, however, the minister had
 
 The Secret of the Beads. 357 
 
 acted with dignity and prudence. Donald and 
 Reberta, in that swift, unconsidered, unsanc- 
 tioned reassertion of their love over the grave 
 of the late baron, had placed him in a position 
 that did not permit him dissent at the time ; and 
 which, therefore, assumed his approval. 
 
 He was not by any means sure that he could 
 approve their marriage. Sir Rolfe's plea had 
 touched, but it had not convinced him. As 
 soon as he arrived at Ellerloch he wrote to a 
 church in Edinburgh, which had long desired 
 his services, and accepted its call. 
 
 Roberta received the intelligence with a look 
 of reproach. 
 
 " Do you not trust me, father, even yet ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " I wish to take you out of temptation, 
 Roberta." 
 
 " You wish to take me away from Donald ?* 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Why? 1 *
 
 358 The Secret of the Beads. 
 
 " Is there any reason to ask that question 
 again ? I have answered it to you often." 
 
 " You have answered it to me, father , now 
 answer it to your own heart. Is Donald's faith 
 really the great stumbling-block you imagine it 
 to be ? Are you not in some measure afraid of 
 what Aunt Helen and all my cousins will say ? 
 Of what the ministers of your synod will say ? 
 Yea, of what these poor villagers in Ellerloch 
 will say? Be just to Donald. Be just to your- 
 self and to me." 
 
 Every question was like a sword-thrust to 
 him ; but he gave no sign of his spiritual wound. 
 His face was a little sterner only as he added : 
 
 " Before I sanction your marriage with Donald 
 Torquil, I must have the assurance of my con 
 science that I am doing right." 
 
 " Father, for nearly five years you have been 
 seeking this assurance. If I was really doing 
 wrong, would not the sin have been clear to you 
 long before this ? When I really disobeyed you 
 when I really deceived you when I really
 
 The Secret of the Beads. 359 
 
 sinned against your love and confidence, was 
 there any need of this search ? You and I also 
 had a consciousness of it, swift and sure. We 
 had no need to argue or to search about it. I 
 broke the fifth command, and I came very near 
 to losing that long life which is the promise of 
 its observance. Father, you must not go to all 
 sorts of theological books about Donald and me. 
 What have synods and institutes and creeds to 
 do with our love ?" 
 
 " You speak without knowledge." 
 
 " I speak as my heart speaks. I am faithful to 
 my conscience. I ask the blessing of God upon 
 my love. Is there any other or any greater 
 law ?" 
 
 " If events stopped with ourselves, if " 
 
 " Ah, then it is as I said ! You fear what this 
 person and that person will suspect ? You fear 
 to have your motives misunderstood ? You 
 think people will never know how firmly you 
 have opposed my marriage, or if they do, that 
 they will say : ' Minister Balfour has made his
 
 360 The Secret of the Beads. 
 
 daughter Lady Torquil at last ; you see that 
 every conscience has its price.' Are not these 
 things so, father ?" 
 
 " Roberta, who gave you liberty to probe 
 your father's conscience? To imagine his 
 motives and invent his difficulties ?" 
 
 He left her with these questions unanswered, 
 and went into his study to hide the pain her 
 analysis had caused him. 
 
 Roberta had divined much that the minister 
 had always refused to be separately conscious 
 of. There are in every soul some dark corners 
 full of unacknowledged, underlying motives. 
 To have them dragged into the light of con- 
 science and the light of discussion is not a pleas- 
 ant experience. Balfour was at first exceed 
 ingly irritated by it. But above every other 
 thing, the man was a just man. He was even 
 more severe with his own recognized faults than 
 he was with those of any other person. He was 
 compelled by the integrity of his nature to ans 
 wer Roberta's questions to himself; and it was
 
 The Secret of the Beads. 361 
 
 with humiliation he admitted that there was 
 much truth in their interrogatory. 
 
 After all, Roberta and Donald were now 
 answerable to God. He might counsel, but 
 their souls were of age, and amenable to God's 
 reward or punishment. Frequently he had 
 spoken bitterly of the priests of the Romish 
 Church assuming the charge of souls, and 
 requiring nothing from their people but implicit 
 obedience to the commands of the Church. He 
 had said : " Souls are to be judged individually ; 
 they must be permitted individual judgment." 
 This very thing he had been denying to his 
 child with a persistent stubbornness. The fact 
 was suddenly clear to him. 
 
 " I have been wrong !" And he made the 
 acknowledgment with a slow, distinct emphasis, 
 staying his walk up and down his study floor to 
 utter the words. " I have been jealous of my 
 authority, spiritual and temporal. I have feared 
 the opinions of my sister, and of my nephews 
 and nieces, of my fellows in the ministry, * *U
 
 362 The Secret of the Beads. 
 
 and sundry who know me. I have called it 
 * the fear of God ;' it has been very much the 
 fear of man. Mercifully, both repentance and 
 works meet for repentance are yet possible. 
 Now I will leave Donald and Roberta to the 
 commands ol their own consciences; and if I 
 have not the authority, well, then, neither have 
 I the responsibility." He made the surrender 
 freely, without anger, but he permitted himself 
 some compensating comfort in the thought that 
 Donald could not marry for a year after his 
 father's death, and that for so long yet his child 
 would be under his own influence. " And 
 as to what may happen in a year, who can 
 tell?" 
 
 The last thought was not a kind one in its 
 essence, but he put it away without any indul 
 gence of it. And though he did not enter into a 
 formal renunciation of his past feelings, or 
 express in so many words the change which had 
 taken place not in his opinions, but in the 
 application of his opinions Donald and Roberta
 
 The Secret of the Beads. 363; 
 
 understood that he had accepted the fact of 
 their marriage, and was inclined to hope they 
 were at least justified in their own consciences. 
 Neither expected more than this. Balfour's 
 nature was of the quality of his country's gran 
 ite. When young, he had been hewn with hard 
 tools into a certain form ; a grand, massive 
 form, that would not, perhaps, be improved by 
 chipping off a corner here and there. 
 
 The move to Edinburgh was now fully deter 
 mined on, and Balfour took a sudden dislike to 
 the lonely, misty village in which he had spent 
 so many happy and sorrowful days. Every one 
 has experienced these rapid changes of feeling 
 toward places, houses, people, certain kinds of 
 work, certain opinions. The soul which has 
 been unconsciously growing, becomes in a night, 
 as it were, ripe for change for a wider arena, a 
 keener life it may be, a sharper sorrow just 
 as a sudden frost will give sudden ripeness to 
 the grain. 
 
 He went to Edinburgh and took a house befit-
 
 364 The Secret of the Beads. 
 
 ting the position his new church gave him. 
 Then he recognized that he had long been fam 
 ishing for books, and he satisfied his longing 
 with an extravagant generosity. He was impa 
 tient to complete his change of life. He 
 appeared to be suddenly younger, more impos 
 ing in appearance, quicker in his movements ; he 
 had cast the past behind, he was turning to the 
 future, strong with the lessons the past had 
 taught him. 
 
 The move was propitious to the lovers. Dur 
 ing the winter months it was almost impossible 
 to travel between Ellerloch and Tasmer, but com 
 munication with Edinburgh was comparatively 
 easy and quick. Indeed, Donald no sooner 
 heard of the minister's intention, than he began 
 to contemplate spending the winter in the capi 
 tal, in the constant society of Roberta. The 
 great drawback to this plan was the want of 
 ready money. He had come to his inheritance, 
 and found himself poor, and soon he discovered
 
 The Secret of the Beads. 365 
 
 that the estate was in the hands of authorized 
 robbers. 
 
 The first tenet of service is to serve itself, and 
 the servants of Tasmer had been exceedingly 
 faithful to their own interests. Everything had 
 been favorable to their dishonesty. For a long 
 time the late baron had neither had the power 
 nor the inclination to investigate his affairs. 
 They were purposely made complex and fatigu 
 ing, and, as his wants were small, he was per 
 mitted a sufficient sum of money to satisfy them 
 a wise generosity on the part of the iactor and 
 the head shepherd and game-keeper, as it pre 
 vented all inquiries and explanations. Donald's 
 absence made their system of spoliation easy, 
 for Father Contach thought only of the baron's 
 spiritual welfare, and Maclane seldom came to 
 Tasmer, and could hardly when there discuss 
 with his father-in-law the income of his estate. 
 
 But Donald was soon suspicious of the truth, 
 and it did not take him long to understand the 
 shameful schemes which had puzzled the sick
 
 366 The Secret <*/ the Beads. 
 
 and weary Sir Rolfe ; and as Donald had no 
 toleration for theft, the unfaithful servants were 
 quickly placed within the discipline of the law. 
 Financially, however, Donald derived no satis 
 faction from this movement ; the men were 
 Celts, selfish and greedy, and fully prepared to 
 keep a tight grip upon their stolen property. 
 
 It was in this total want of faithful service, in 
 this cruel realization that honor and honesty are 
 not to be hired out, that Donald remembered with 
 tears and longing the men and women who 
 had been sent away to make room for these 
 clever, unscrupulous managers. Oh, for the 
 trusty Fergus once more in the castle ! Oh, for 
 the trusty Torquils on the fells with the sheep, 
 and on the heather with the game ! They might 
 \ be slow, but they were the souls of piety and 
 fidelity. 
 
 Under the new order of things there had been 
 a gradual influx of strangers from the coast of 
 Ireland. They were pushing and energetic ; 
 they had made Torquil a fine lobster fishing
 
 The Secret of the Beads. 367 
 
 station, but they offended Donald wherever he 
 saw them offended him, though they bowed 
 down to him with the most cringing humility, 
 and had for his ears only the words of flattery 
 and compliment. For they had possession of 
 the best cottages and the best boats and the best 
 fishing-grounds, and the native race had fallen 
 back as they encroached. 
 
 Donald regarded these things with a passion 
 ate regret, and Roberta shared all his anger and 
 all his longings. They sat hours over Donald's 
 plans and estimates, considering the yield of the 
 game and the land and the wool, and calculating 
 how much yearly could be saved toward bring 
 ing home the Torquils. For, from the very 
 hour ot his succession, this hope and end had 
 been in the heart of the new master of Tasmer. 
 
 Both were, however, aware that little could 
 be done until after their marriage. As long as 
 Roberta was in Ellerloch, the Sea Bird was 
 traveling between Tasmer and Ellerloch. 
 When Roberta removed to Edinburgh, Donald
 
 368 The Secret of the Beads. 
 
 found himself unable to do anything without 
 consulting her. And neither of them thought 
 it possible to shorten the term of mourning for 
 Sir Rolfe. They felt it imperative to give all 
 the ceremonious respect to his memory, which 
 his relationship and his position demanded of 
 them in the public mind. 
 
 But Donald had many a weary hour. He 
 had been compelled to call in the help of lawyers 
 and accountants, and they were daily making his 
 great losses more and more clear to him. The 
 new servants resented the unaccustomed watch 
 over them, and gave little satisfaction, and his 
 military training was not, perhaps, the best 
 preparation for the circumstances in which he 
 was placed. He himself was prompt and faith 
 ful in all his duties; and he had been obedient 
 to his superiors when his service demanded it. 
 He expected from others the excellencies which 
 they did not possess inherently, and which had 
 not been cultivated in them. 
 
 These seem to be prosaic and very ordinary
 
 The Secret of the Beads. 369 
 
 trials, but it is precisely such trials which are 
 hardest to bear. When a man fights with his 
 equal, his spirits rise to the encounter ; whether 
 he conquer or fail, he feels no degradation. 
 But a daily, hourly fight with inferiors is a dif 
 ferent thing. Intellect must stoop to match 
 itself with vulgar cunning ; honor and truth 
 have to meet covert enmity and fathomless 
 deception. Such an ignoble fight greatly 
 depresses a noble soul the weapons its enemy 
 uses are not in its armory ; it has to study the 
 tactics of fear, hatred and envy, in order to 
 defeat them. Donald would far rather have 
 ridden in the van of an invading army, than 
 been compelled to buckle down to such a worry 
 ing defense of his own rights and such an irritat 
 ing prosecution of the wrong-doing of others. 
 
 Upon Christmas Eve he was suffering from an 
 accumulation of annoyances, and Angus had 
 unwittingly added the last drop to the cup of 
 petty injustice and mortification mingled for 
 him.
 
 37 The Secret of the Beads. 
 
 " Here is a gold sovereign for you, Angus, and 
 I hope you will have a very happy Christmas 
 feast," he said. 
 
 " It iss ferry gladt I am of the sovereign, sir. 
 I wass safing aal my money to pring home again 
 my grandtfather and my grandtm other. A ferry 
 poor time they are hafing, sir, and it iss old they 
 are : and thinking, mirover, of the graves of Tor- 
 quil. They will not pe resting in any other 
 place whateffer, sir." 
 
 Donald did not answer. A great wave of feel 
 ing partly anger stirred him. Then he 
 remembered the holy festival close at hand, and 
 was ashamed and sorry. The bell was ringing 
 in the little church, and he went down there and 
 offered the sacrifice of thanksgiving. When he 
 returned home there was a large fire of blazing 
 logs on the hearth, and he sat down before it and 
 began to think on many things. 
 
 Presently, when his heart was very tender 
 being full of gratitude for Roberta's love, and 
 full of hope in that he trusted to bring back
 
 The Secret of the Beads. 371 
 
 again his banished kin he went into the oratory 
 and lifted the ivory Beads of Tasmer. He 
 thought of the men and the women whose claim 
 upon them had once been as strong as his own, 
 and the tremendous solidarity of the two worlds 
 of the dead and the living was present to his 
 conception in a strikingly personal manner. 
 The Communion of Saints ! The indivisibility 
 of the Church militant and the Church tri 
 umphant! Oh, the unspeakable riches of that 
 grace which made him partaker, even in this life, 
 of the hope and the love of the holy dead ! 
 
 Suddenly a few words that Father Contach 
 had spoken that night to his people came to him 
 with wonderful force : 
 
 " Take your morsel of bread and put it in the 
 Lord's hand for a blessing, and you shall eat and 
 be satisfied. When the tide comes in, it fills the 
 great caves as easily as the small sand-ripples. 
 Hold out both hands and God will fill them. 
 And, if the strait is a great one, God has special 
 helps for special occasions."
 
 37 2 The Secret of the Beads. 
 
 How good the promise of such words! He 
 let it fill his heart with gladness, as he knelt 
 humbly before the great crucifix, standing white 
 and solemn in the fitful light of the fire. Lost in 
 meditation, he remained until the sense of " pres 
 ence " was sweetly intense. Then he bowed his 
 whole soul to this majesty of the Unseen ; for his 
 faith was too sincere to refuse the consolation 
 of the mysterious. 
 
 " I have been visited," he said, joyfully, and 
 his fingers touched the large bead for the first 
 " Our Father." 
 
 It parted between his fingers as he held it. 
 His very soul shuddered as he felt the separa 
 tion, but he completed the prayer, and then rose 
 and looked at the broken bead. As he did so his 
 eyes grew fixed and large, a bright color spread 
 over his face, and after a few moments' intent 
 gaze, he clasped his hands in adoration of 
 wonder and delight. 
 
 For the broken bead revealed the secret
 
 The Secret of the Beads. 373 
 
 which the Tasmer Rosary had faithfully jkept 
 for seven hundred years. The beads were all 
 composed of two parts, so exquisitely fitting 
 that only oriental patience and ingenuity could 
 have fashioned them. And the ivory was but 
 the shell. In the interior of each bead there 
 was an uncut gem of great value. 
 
 As each bead yielded its treasure to Donald's 
 efforts, his soul was more and more joyful. He 
 foresaw now the fulfillment of all his hopes : the 
 home-bringing of the Torquils from exile; the 
 building of new cottages for them ; the real 
 improvement of the estate ; Roberta's dreams of 
 a school for the children, of a hospital for th<* 
 sick, of a home for the homeless ; all the welW 
 of comfort that were to be the gift of the Beads 
 of Tasmer. 
 
 At last they lay before him sixty-three 
 jewels a glittering company of rubies and 
 diamonds. And he stood up before God and 
 thanked Him joyfully because that from among 
 all the sons of his race he had been chosen to
 
 374 The Secret of the Beads. 
 
 dispense the gift of Knight Murdo's Rosary. 
 And he opened the small sandal-wood box which 
 had kept so long the prophecy of " The Beads," 
 and read aloud with the glad confidence of faith 
 turned into sight : 
 
 " Tellen these trewe wordse : 
 Whaune Tasmer's fortune shalle wane and faide 
 Thaune aske of the Beads of Tasmer aide."
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 BRINGING HOME THE BRIDE. 
 
 " Hail, Love ! the Death-defyer ! age to age 
 
 Linking with flowers in the still heart of man ; 
 Dream to the Bard and marvel to the Sage ! 
 Glory and mystery since the world began." 
 
 " With her womanly beauty and queenly calm 
 She steals to my heart with a blessing of balm ; 
 And O, but the wine of Love sparkles with foam ! 
 When I come home, when J come home, 
 
 Home, home, when I come home !" 
 
 Early in the morning he started for Edinburg 1 , 
 with the gems next his heart. He went straight 
 to Roberta. She heard his voice and step, and 
 came hastily to meet him. With hands 
 extended, she stopped *at the sight of his face. 
 The glory of some strange, great blessing was
 
 376 Bringing Home the Bride. 
 
 on it. Donald took her in his arms. He could 
 not speak, but she knew by his smile, by his 
 radiant presence, by the joyful confidence of his 
 manner, that some wonderful thing had come to 
 him. 
 
 They went together to the parlor. Donald 
 took the precious packet from his breast, and 
 spread out the jewels before her. They were 
 too excited for much speech. The splendor and 
 the wonder of the gift ! The sudden granting of 
 all their desires! What words could express 
 their amazement and their gratitude 
 
 "You will go for the Torquils now, Donald?" 
 
 " At once, dearest." 
 
 "They are to have new and far better cot 
 tages ?" 
 
 " We will plan them together. They shall be 
 as you desire." 
 
 " And the school, and the " 
 
 " You shall make all your dreams come true." 
 
 " I wish they knew about it. Write at once, 
 Donald."
 
 Bringing Home the Bride. 377 
 
 " No ; I will go at once. They would not 
 comprehend a letter." 
 
 " Then you will go very soon ?" 
 
 " As soon as I have turned the jewels into 
 gold, and set builders to work on the homes for 
 them. All the cottages pulled down at Easter- 
 Torquil shall be rebuilt. Oh, I hope old Hector 
 is alive, to lead the people back again." 
 
 " Let us tell my father." 
 
 The minister was in his study. He had been 
 filling his soul with the pathetic importunity of 
 Baxter and the Platonic loftiness of Howe ; and 
 when Roberta said : " Donald has found sixty, 
 three rubies and diamonds in the Beads of Tas* 
 mer, and he is going to bring home all the Tor. 
 quils from America, and build them new houses 
 and a school, and make them happy and pros, 
 perous forever," he looked up at her with a 
 faint smile, and answered : 
 
 " All this would never be said, except in a 
 dream, Roberta."
 
 378 Bringing Home the Bride. 
 
 " It is true ! It is true ! Come down-stairs 
 and see." 
 
 Then Balfour went with his daughter, and his 
 amazement was quickly amenable to reason. 
 Humanity understands seeing better than 
 believing. 
 
 Preparatory arrangements were quickly made, 
 and Donald landed at Quebec early in February, 
 and with all possible speed reached the small 
 Scotch settlement sixty miles inward. The 
 weather was bitterly cold, the country lonely 
 and depressing. Only after three days' hard 
 riding did he come in sight of the squalid log 
 huts which bore the name of New Tasmer. 
 
 He was alone and on horseback, and it was 
 the afternoon. There was a small inn at the 
 entrance of the village, and his heart smote him 
 when he saw the name " Donald Torquil " above 
 the door. Namesake and kin, and yet so far 
 from home so far away from home ! 
 
 A man whom he did not recognize took his 
 horse, and pointed out to him the public door.
 
 Bringing Home the Bride. 379 
 
 " Christine Torquil iss inside, sir, and she will 
 pe gifing you a welcome, sir." 
 
 He went into the cabin, and stood for a 
 moment looking at Christine. She was card 
 ing wool, and rocking the cradle of her babe 
 with her foot. Ere he could speak, she began 
 to sing. The soft, sibilant Gaelic had an inex 
 pressibly mournful sound ; the words were full 
 of tears. Donald's eyes filled as their meaning 
 smote his heart : 
 
 " From the lone shieling of the misty island 
 Mountains divide us, and the waste of seas ; 
 Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland 
 And we in dreams behold the Hebrides. 
 Fair these broad meads, these hoary woods are grand ; 
 But we are exiles from our native land !" 
 
 " Christine ! Christine ! I am come to take 
 you back again !" 
 
 She rose, white and trembling, and looked at 
 the young man. He had been well known to 
 her in the old days, and she had not forgotten 
 him. She let her wool and cards fall to the
 
 380 Bringing Home the Bride. 
 
 ground; she took his hands and kissed them ; 
 she murmured, amid broken sobs, passionate 
 welcomes and loving ejaculations. Donald 
 answered her in Gaelic. The sound of the dear 
 words on his tongue completed her joy. She 
 made him sit down by the fire, and began to 
 prepare him food and a warm drink. 
 
 " It iss ferry poor I am, Sir Tonalt. My man 
 iss gone away from me ; 'tis three months since 
 he went away." 
 
 " And where has he gone, Christine ?" 
 " He iss gone from hence to death ; in the 
 Friday to holy heaven. O ! hon a ric / O ! hon 
 a rit ! My prave Tonalt iss gone away ! It iss 
 no more he will pe seeing the purple coasts of 
 Skye and Rona, nor the plue peaks of Harriss 
 peyont the gray Minch." 
 
 " Is old Hector Torquil still alive, Christine ?" 
 " He iss ferry well. His son Hugh iss gone 
 away aalso ; but he iss not seeing ferry much 
 now."
 
 Bringing Home the Bride. 381 
 
 " Send to every cabin and tell the people to be 
 at Hector Torquil's this night at seven o'clock." 
 
 Quickly flew the word from home to home. 
 
 " The Torquil hass come; he hass come him- 
 self ! We are going pack home, mirover !" 
 
 To Hector, Donald carried the news of his 
 own arrival. The old soldier had aged much. 
 He was sitting very quiet, his hands leaning on 
 his staff, his head bowed above them, his eyes 
 closed. Dreams of his stirring youth were fill 
 ing the silent chambers of his brain. Behind his 
 closed eyes he was seeing pictures of his native 
 hills ; mountains and mountains of amethyst, 
 lights and shadows coming and going all day 
 over them ; vales of emeralds here and there, and 
 leaping streams of silver, at sunrise turning to 
 rivers of gold. Oh, for the laughter and the 
 storm of the ocean ! Oh, for the corries misty 
 with blue-bells! Oh, for the little brown huts 
 nestling in the shadow of the mountains, and the 
 plaided human creatures, with collie dogs and 
 flocks of sheep moving to and fro among them!
 
 382 Bringing Home the Bride. 
 
 It was from such a dream Donald awakened 
 him. 
 
 " // iss the TorquilT he cried. " Bless God, it 
 is the voice of the Torquil !" And when Donald 
 said, joyfully: "Hector! Hector Torquil !" 
 the old man rose to his feet, erect and alert, as 
 if he had been at roll-call, and answered with a 
 glad promptness : 
 
 " Here, here, Sir Tonalt ! " 
 
 And what a congregation gathered that night 
 in Hector's cabin ! What joy to see again the 
 head of their sept ! What unspeakable joy to 
 hear him say : 
 
 " Come back home. Come, all of you. There 
 is enough for every Torquil on Torquil's land." 
 
 Donald stood in the midst of the room, and 
 
 the men were gathered bare-headed around him. 
 
 Most of them were of lofty stature, but Donald 
 
 was taller than any ; and \htglengary on his head, 
 
 i with the eagle's feather in front, added a noble, 
 
 , native grace to his beautiful form. Suddenly, 
 
 I he lifted the cap from his bright, curling hair,
 
 Bringing Home the Bride. 383 
 
 and, standing thus, with a voice tuned to glad 
 and sweet solemnity, he told them there the his 
 tory of the Beads of Tasmer, and of the miracu 
 lous happiness and prosperity they had brought 
 to the household of the Torquils. It was a story 
 that touched these simple, pious peasants to spir 
 itual enthusiasm. Faith was to them an easy 
 effort of the mind. The more impossible a thing 
 was, the more necessity there was for spiritual 
 help ; and spiritual help was the help they most 
 of all trusted in. The old Rosary, the ancient 
 path of prayer! Was it not the very way of the 
 angels ? 
 
 " Peace! Peace to Knight Murdo's soul !" said 
 old Hector, solemnly. " Those peyont have not 
 forgotten us. They haf peen sorry for our sor 
 row, now they are gladt in our joy." 
 
 It was not considered wise to move at once. 
 All possessed some trifle of property which they 
 could dispose of. A few had cleared land, and 
 began to like the independence of their new life.
 
 384 Bringing Home the Bride. 
 
 Donald assisted such to still further improve 
 their condition. 
 
 But the majority had tasted the word 
 " home" in their hearts, and the idea grew 
 swiftly to a passionate longing, which nothing 
 but the misty headlands of the Minch and the 
 Hills of Ross could satisfy. They were 
 impatient for the spring and for the ship which 
 Donald was to send to Quebec for them. 
 
 Rapidly the months flew by. It had seemed 
 at first as if the year's delay would be hard to 
 get over. But time well-filled goes very 
 quickly. After Donald's return there was a 
 constant journeying between Tasmer and Edin- 
 burg. He had to consult Roberta about every 
 thing done. She drew the plans of the new 
 cottages and of the pretty school-house, though 
 Father Contach and Minister Balfour both gave 
 their advice in the matter. 
 
 And there had to be new industries set on 
 toot for the employment of the home-coming 
 men. The game and the sheep, the lobster and
 
 Bringing Home the Bride. 385 
 
 the deep-sea fishing were to be arranged on a 
 basis profitable to all. The castle was to 
 refurnish throughout. For Roberta's special 
 pleasure a large conservatory was to be built. 
 Donald went to sleep every night happily 
 wearied out. 
 
 It was in these days he discovered, for the 
 first time, the blessedness of hours brim full of 
 work. 
 
 " I will never be idle again," he said to Father 
 Contach. 
 
 And the Father pointed out the fact that he 
 never could be if he continued to do his duty. 
 He would be compelled to plan, to order, to 
 supervise all the works he had laid out for the 
 daily employment of his people. 
 
 " Fifty or sixty families will take their bread 
 from your hand, Donald," he said ; " you will be 
 responsible for their well-doing. You are to 
 marry a wife and be responsible for her happi 
 ness. You must live now for the future as well
 
 386 Bringing Home the Bride. 
 
 as for the present; for others as well as for 
 yourself." 
 
 It was in the early days of autumn that Donald 
 brought home his bride those golden Septem 
 ber days when the air is fine and subtle, and the 
 amber rays shine through the shining branches. 
 The castle garden was full of the splendid 
 glories of dahlias and hollyhocks, of the scents 
 of sweet-brier and southernwood, and of all 
 kinds of nameless perfumes emanations ot the 
 earth, of the trunks of trees, of the ripened 
 fruit, of the turning foliage. Old ocean laughed 
 with incalculable dimples. The birds were 
 singing their latest songs in the woods. From 
 the church-tower in the village the bells sent 
 forth a grave, sweet harmony, dilating in the 
 air, wandering up to the castle-turrets and far 
 out to sea. As the morning advanced, a soft 
 yellow light fell like a glorious veil over earth 
 and ocean, making the mountains more like 
 clouds at sunsetting than real things. 
 
 There had been in Edinburgh a solemnly
 
 Bringing Home the Bride. 387 
 
 quiet, religious ceremony, in which Minister 
 Balfour himself joined the hands ot his daughter 
 and Sir Donald Torquil. Only Sara and 
 Maclane and a few of Roberta's kindred had 
 been present. A very blissful service it had 
 been, and Donald and Roberta, for themselves, 
 could have desired no nobler, no more blessed 
 sacrament of their love than that touching 
 service in the manse parlor. 
 
 But others had to be taken into consideration, 
 and it was necessary for the Torquil to take his 
 bride also by the ancient faith, in which his 
 fathers had lived and died ; and so, by its bless- 
 ing, make Roberta indeed mistress of Tasmer. 
 In a little gray church where the old religion 
 had built itself a shrine, even in the city of John 
 Knox, Father Contach was waiting for them. 
 With infinite love and solemnity he joined their 
 hands in the irrevocable tie of the Church. And 
 thus they went forth to their new life, with its 
 obligations bound to them by holy prayers, and 
 its delights sanctified by holy blessings.
 
 388 Bringing Home the Bride. 
 
 I It had been resolved to hold the bride-feast in 
 Tasmer, and to call all the clan and all the 
 neighbors together for this festival. Sara and 
 Maclane took charge of the preparations for 
 this home-coming, and Nature crowned them 
 with the gift of a few days of heavenly beauty. 
 Early on the morning of the happy day, the ris 
 ing mist revealed the Minch covered with boats, 
 all making for Torquil pier. They were filled 
 with men in their Sabbath clothing and with 
 women in white caps, and lasses snooded with 
 ribbons. For every man, woman and child of 
 the Torquil blood, and all the Torquils who had 
 intermarried with the MacFarlanes or the Mac- 
 kenzies, were coming to Sir Donald Torquil's 
 bridal feast. 
 
 \ They filled the cottages to overflowing, and 
 found amusement enough in the fact of their 
 rare meeting and in watching the constant 
 arrival of the gentry in trig yachts or in fine car 
 riages. At ten in the morning the bells rang 
 out, and Father Contach was seen in the street
 
 Bringing Home the Bride. 389 
 
 of the village, talking- to a Torquil from Cairn- 
 clow or Bundalloch, or listening to a tale of joy 
 or sorrow from some girl whom he had, perhaps, 
 christened, confirmed and married. 
 
 When the full glory of the noontide was over 
 sea and land, Donald's carriage was seen at the 
 top of the hill, a mile awav. Then old Hector, 
 leaning on the arm of Father Contach, went and 
 stood at the entrance of the village to bless and 
 welcome the Torquil and his bride. The people, 
 with that mannerly behaviour which belonged 
 to their temperament and education, ranged 
 themselves along the roadside with smiling 
 faces, casting handfuls of heather or ripe wheat, 
 or sweet-smelling broom in the path of the 
 bride's carriage. Their gentle blessing lingered 
 in the still, golden atmosphere, and came to 
 Roberta and Donald with the perfume of 
 the flowers and the heavenly echoes of the 
 church-bells. 
 
 When they reached the fir-wood, ail sounds 
 became a softened, tremulous murmur of glad-
 
 390 Bringing Home the Bride. 
 
 ness. Hector was in a carriage with Father 
 Contach, but the people spread themselves 
 belore and behind and on each side in the green 
 shades the fishers, feeling as L they were m a 
 new world, solemnized by the tender, mystical 
 light, and gravely curious about the birds and 
 insects, of which the sea had taught them noth 
 ing. 
 
 Long tables had been laid for them in the big 
 granaries, and there already Malcolm Roy's 
 magic violin was heard calling them together in 
 those plaintive or delirious strains which not a 
 heart among them could resist. As the day 
 passed on, the sense of festival grew stronger. 
 The courts were full of carriages and servants. 
 Men known through all the country-side, and 
 richly garmented women, strolled among the 
 late flowers, or sauntered in the newly adorned 
 rooms of the castle. The tones of music, ot low 
 laughter, of rippling conversation, and the frou 
 frou ot silken robes, intoxicated the spirits like 
 wine. And Sara was everywhere present, mil oi
 
 Bringing Home the Bride. 391 
 
 joy and welcome, to both peers and peasants: 
 her dress of blue velvet, her shimmering pearl 
 necklace, her coronal of bright hair, her charm 
 ing manners, making her a conspicuous and 
 delightful, hostess. 
 
 At length the magnificent dining-hall was 
 thrown open, and all its splendid space was 
 thronged with guests of honor or renown. Then 
 Donald led in the lovely woman whom he had 
 made Lady of Torquil. A murmur, indescriba 
 ble and irrepressible, ran through the pleased 
 assemblage. Had such a pearl, indeed, come 
 out of the fishing village of Ellerloch ? For 
 Roberta's girlish beauty had merely indexed the 
 superb loveliness of her maturity. Within the 
 past year she had improved marvelously; for, in 
 love and hope and joyful confidence, beauty 
 grows to its perfection. 
 
 She was tall enough to be mate for Donald's 
 lofty stature ; and her fine countenance, with its 
 wide, white brow and shining eyes and glorious 
 coloring, reflected a soul lull of tenderness, intel-
 
 39 2 Bringing Home the Bride. 
 
 lect and generosity, A robe oi rich white satin 
 clothed her. It had borders of silver-work, and 
 the sapphires ol Tasmer gleamed on her white 
 throat and wrists, and clasped the supple silver 
 zone which marked her waist. Orange-blossoms 
 crowned her dark hair and lay among the laces 
 at her bosom. Every heart bowed down to her 
 every tongue praised her. 
 
 When the wedding toast was drunk, the whole 
 people came in. They stood around the hall in 
 rows four deep, and when Father Contach 
 blessed the bride-cup and lifted it toward heaven, 
 five hundred cups were lifted with it, and the 
 murmur of the "Amen" was a music that smote 
 each heart beyond the power of speech, beyond 
 all human interpretation, but such as eyes shin 
 ing through tears may give. 
 
 For a few days, Tasmer Castle held a pleasant 
 company, that gradually drifted away, each soul 
 back to its own joys and sorrows. At the end 
 of a week, Donald and Roberta were quite alone. 
 Their new life, lull of noble plans and hopes,
 
 Bringing Home the Bride. 393 
 
 was before them. They were eager to realize 
 all that it asked of them. They were one soul, 
 one heart and one hand in everything. They 
 still kept the dew of their youth ; all its illusions 
 and enthusiasms ; all its fervor; of self-sacrifice ; 
 all its passionate wealth and strength of personal 
 affection. Their love had been well tested by 
 suffering and disappointment and delay. It had 
 been crowned with a miraculous gift of riches 
 and happiness. Like the blessed Shunamite 
 woman of old, they had the felicity she counted 
 of greater value than royal favor they could 
 "dwell among their own people." 
 
 They were sitting together one night, talking 
 softly over all these things. The twilight deep 
 ened, but they called not for lights ; the glow ot 
 the fire was sufficient lor their sweetly solemn 
 dreams and hopes of their future. Father Con- 
 tach entered. He blessed both and sat down be 
 side them. 
 
 " Hector is dead," he said. " He sent
 
 394 Bringing Home the Bride. 
 
 back your father's ring, Sir Donald, and with it 
 his eternal love.'' 
 
 Donald took the ring with a murmured prayer 
 and thoughtfully placed it on his finger. 
 
 " He went blessedly," continued the priest 
 "quite happy in the thought that he would sleep 
 with his lathers under the shadow of Torquil 
 church. In the last hour, he dictated to me the 
 verse for his stone. I have promised it shall be 
 placed above him." 
 
 " He is worthy to be remembered. What 
 said he? 
 
 "'Hector is going to the assembly in heaven i 
 It was tn Easier-Tor quil he ivas reared ; 
 jn blessed lorquii of many crosses he first read his tisalms. 
 He jou^ht a gooa fight, ana he goes to his God ana hit 
 
 kindrea ; 
 Ey grace of God and the Torquil, in Torquil he is buried! " 
 
 A silence full of feeling followed. Through 
 the purple curtains the large crucifix shone white 
 and peaceful in its solemn place, and after a lit 
 tle conversation, the father retired there. The
 
 Bringing Home the Bride. 395 
 
 young husband and his wife glanced at each 
 other. They knew the holy man was praying, 
 and they sat in communion with him. When 
 he returned to their company, he had the Beads 
 of Tasmer in his hand the large ivory beads 
 that had held their happy fortune. 
 
 " Children," he said, " these beads were not 
 only for your prosperity. Through God's bless 
 ing in your hearts, they have bi ought and they 
 shall bring comfort and salvation to hundreds 
 and thousands who will bear your name. Think 
 not that their material wealth was their great 
 treasure, for none shall ever lift them, with a 
 sincere faith in God and in Christ Jesu. and not 
 find in such prayer aid and blessing irom the 
 Beads ol Tasmer." 
 
 THE END.
 
 AN ENEMY TO THE KING 
 
 BY ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS 
 
 Author of "The Continental Dragoon," "The Road to Pari" 
 " Captain Rarenshaw," etc., etc. 
 
 Illustrated by H. De M. Young 
 
 An historical romance of the sixteenth century, 
 
 describing the adventures of a young French 
 
 nobleman at the Court of Henry III., and 
 
 on the field with Henry of Navarre. 
 
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 THE CONTINENTAL DRAGOON 
 
 BY ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS 
 
 Author of " The Road to Paris/' " A Gentleman Player/' "Captair 
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 Illustrated by H. C. Edwards 
 
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 being laid in and around the old Philipse 
 
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 THE MYSTERY OF 
 
 MURRAY DAVENPORT 
 
 BY ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS 
 
 Author of "An Enemy to the King," " The Continental Dragoon" 
 4t Captain Ravenshaw/' etc., etc. 
 
 Illustrated by H. C. Edwards 
 
 The solution of it is an ingenious surprise such as 
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 A GENTLEMAN PLAYER: 
 
 His Adventures on a Secret Mission for Queen Elizabeth 
 
 BY ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS 
 
 Author of "The Mystery of Murray Davenport" "The Road to 
 Paris," "The Continental Dragoon," etc,, etc. 
 
 Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill 
 
 "A Gentleman Player" is a romance of the Elizabethan period. 
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