UC-NRLF B 3 35b Dflfl * (d.lfouMii THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESENTED BY PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID WILTON, Q.C.; OR, LIFE IN A HIGHLAND SHOOTING BOX. "A WINTER JAUNT TO NORWAY." CONTAINING PERSONAL ACCOUNTS OF NANSEN, IBSEN, BJORNSEN, BRANUES, &c. By MRS. ALEC TWEEDIE. TWENTY-SIX ILLUSTRATIONS. Second and Cheaper Edition, Js. 6d. Spectator (four columns of review) : " The pages from start to finish are really a treat." Times : " Breezy and entertaining." Queen : " A most interestingly written account of a most adventurous journey." Daily Telegraph : " Will well repay perusal." Pall Mall Gazette: " Courageous sketching from nature." Field: " Pleasantly written book ; lively and entertaining style," London : Bliss, Sands, and Foster. BY THE SAME AUTHOR. "A GIRL'S RIDE IN ICELAND." Second Edition, with numerous Illustrations. Price 5s. Athenaum : "A most attractive little volume A spirited account of a spirited jaunt." Daily Telegraph : " A very pretty and clever little volume." Graphic: "A great deal of useful information and shrewd observation is brought together in compact space." Illustrated London News: "Pleasing and instructive." Morning Post: " Better worth reading than many more pretentious volumes." Truth : " A bright, direct, unaffected and charming little work." Horace Cox, Windsor House, Bream's Buildings, Chancery Lane, E.C. WILTON, Q.C.; OR, LIFE IN A HIGHLAND SHOOTING BOX. BY MRS. ALEC TWEEDIE {nee Harley), AUTHOR OK "A Winter's Jaunt to Norway" (With personal Accounts of Nansen, Ibsen, Bjornsen, Brandes) ; "A Girl's Ride in Iceland," &c. LONDON : HORACE COX, WINDSOR HOUSE, BREAM'S BUILDINGS, E.C. 1895. PRINTED BY HORACE COX, WINDSOR HOUSE, BREAM's BUILDINGS, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON, E.C. A DOMESTIC DRAMA. IN ONE ACT. Dedication, to "A.. L. r JL\" 7% (chaffingly) : " What good is a wife ? M She (laughingly): " To be useful, ornamental, or write books." He : " What good is a husband ? " She (gravely) : u To share responsibility and supply wants." He: "To supply what the wife hasn't got and does not know, eh ? " She: " Well — in a way — to supply sporting facts when the wife is not quite sure." He (desperately) : " Really, and what credit does the husband get ? " She (naively) : " None ; but he gets all the blame when the facts are wrong ! Ta, ta ! ! " [Exit She. LIST OF CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. " Awa ! Awa ' page i CHAPTER II. The Twelfth 23 CHAPTER III. A Highland Dinner 51 CHAPTER IV. Sabbath Kirk ........ 73 CHAPTER V Blackcock . . . . 95 CHAPTER VI. Snared . . "7 CHAPTER VII. Trout J 4° CHAPTER VIII. A Highland Character, * 6 7 viii List of Contents. CHAPTER IX. Partridges ......... page 187 CHAPTER X. Salmon 216 CHAPTER XI. Golf . . . . . . . . . 243 CHAPTER XII. Pheasants . . . 261 CHAPTER XIII. Deerstalking 279 CHAPTER XIV. Hallowe'en ....... . . 305 CHAPTER XV. The Temple 323 CHAPTER XVI. The Law Courts 337 WILTON, Q.C.; OR, LIFE IN A HIGHLAND SHOOTING BOX. V CHAPTER I. "AWA! AWA!" About 7.55 p.m. on the 10th of August, in a recent year of grace, all was turmoil and confusion at King's Cross Station. Eight o'clock, when the night mail starts for Scotland, is always a pretty busy time ; but, on the evening of that 10th, the platform was a surging, seething mass of humanity. Strangers were hustling one another, friends were tearing hither and thither with hardly time to nod and enquire (( Where are you going, old fellow ? " Barely waiting for the reply, they tore off to the booking-office to get their tickets, then back to the carriages to see about sleeping berths, or scrim- Wilton, Q.C. mage for a porter to label their luggage, their dogs, or their guns, to some out of the way Highland station, for which the authorities had not even provided a proper printed address ! The train was immensely long, and two engines were required to drag the heavy freight of humanity and luggage hundreds of miles through the darkness to " bonnie Scotland/' At the door of one of the compartments was gathered a little group, of three persons. Lorna Stracey — a tall, handsome girl of about twenty years of age, whose fine carriage was even more noticeable than her beauty, had such a distinctly aristocratic air that every one who observed her intuitively felt she was indeed a gentlewoman. The almost defiant pose of her head commanded respect from the porters, who, as they passed, said for the hundredth time, with marked deference, " By y'r leave." " Mother, darling ! M the girl exclaimed, " in a few minutes I shall be actually off to Scotland ! • " Yes, my child, where I hope you will thoroughly enjoy your first glimpse of the Highlands. " A young fellow, who completed the party, stood at the door motionless, his gaze rivetted on Lorna ; he appeared to be drinking to the last dregs the cup of admiration. His eyes seemed to say — t( You are my ideal — my god ! Lorna, pity me ! " But the girl paid no heed, her attention being Awa ! Awa ! arrested by a leash of lovely setters that a porter was dragging along the platform, while another man, running beside the dogs, was trying to stick a label on the reverse side of the address attached to their collars. " Are they not beauties ? " cried the girl. " What lovely red coats they have ! I wonder where the porter is going to put them ? " " Into the dog van," answered the young man, speaking for the first time ; " come and see." In her eagerness to follow the dogs, the girl forgot how angry she had felt when she beheld Alf Curtis at the station, where she wished to be alone with her mother, whom she was leaving for some weeks, and, smiling graciously, walked down the platform after the setters, accompanied by her devoted admirer. Mrs. Stracey, with a kindly smile, crossed over to the bookstall, while the young couple hurried briskly away. At the rear of the train they found a spacious carriage devoted to the canine species travelling north, w r ho were yelling with all their might, sitting on their haunches in little cages, and appearing as unhappy as if they had been at a dog show. The whole train seemed filled with sportsmen, their guns, their fishing tackle, their golf clubs, and their dogs. 11 Poor doggies ! they seem to have very comfort- able quarters and lots of water ; but still it is a long B 2 Wilton, Q.C. journey, and I pity them," the girl remarked at last. As if her words had broken some spell, her hitherto silent companion, unable to contain himself longer, burst forth : 11 Lorna! Lorna! you sympathise with those dogs, cannot you have some pity for me ? Say something kind that I can remember during the long weeks you are away — not that I need a reminder," he added almost below his breath. " Good God ! if I could only forget ! " " Hush, Alf! you must not talk like that. Why will you make us both miserable ? Cannot we part without going through all this nonsense again ? " " Dear girl, it may be nonsense to you, it is life and death to me. This parting is terrible. I shall not see you again for weeks," and he really looked as if no greater misfortune could happen. " Well, and what then. I shall soon be back again ; besides, you must learn to do without me, you must act for yourself and learn to stand alone. It is ridiculous your wanting me to decide everything for you. You are a man, and as a man you should have resolution, force of will, and the capacity for immediate action. Yes, you must learn to stand alone." He bowed his head. " I mean it," she said ; " for my sake, Alf, if you will not do it for your own." And then she added, " Come, do not look so dejected." But he seemed as if he did not hear, and exclaimed, Awa ! Awa ! " Lorna, I love you to madness, love you till I scarcely know what I say or do. Although I felt sure that you would be furious with me for coming to the station, I could not help doing so. I put my hat on, and off again, and on again. I argued with myself ; but — I know I am mad — I rushed down the stairs and jumped into a hansom just for the pleasure of looking at you, though I knew I should only gain your displeasure. I am hardly responsible. Love has made me mad. Pity me, Lorna, for I am wretched ! " . The girl was so touched by his manner, and the evident misery felt by this fine tall man, only a few years her senior, that she could not avoid asking herself : 11 How can I be so cruel? Why, oh ! why does he love me so much, when I cannot care for him ? " " Well, Alf," at last she brought herself to say, with an effort, " work hard while I am away, pass your exam., and make me feel proud of you and find you a full blown diplomatist when I return to town. It is your duty, even though you hate the work, to stick to it ; you owe it to your uncle." " But, my dear girl, if I do get into the diplomatic service, will you have anything to say to me ? Lorna, will you ? " " When you do get in you will have a profession — you will be someone, instead of a mere ' idle loafer/ as you call yourself. Father says you have Wilton, Q.C. great ability, and your uncle, being an ambassador, can help you." 11 Help me, how?" he persisted. " Help you to help yourself — to get on — to succeed — to raise yourself to a position of eminence, to be a great man. Alf, have you no ambition ? " " None," he replied dejectedly, M except to win your love." She looked annoyed, and walked on. " Lorna, you seem more beautiful than ever to- night, as if to tantalize me. Can't you love me just one little bit?" " Love cannot be bidden, Alf. It is born, not made. I shall often think of you in Scotland, so to please me, old boy, do keep steady and stick to your work." Was Alf Curtis one of those men who fall in love as easily as they accept an invitation to dinner, and forget again as soon as the season's latest relish has passed their lips, or was his love so woven into his nature, that it had in reality become part of himself and of his life ? Although little more than a youth, he was not usually impetuous ; but rather possessed a calm analytical mind. Love had trans- formed him, until his nature was unrecognisable, even to himself. " Lorna, you are very late," her mother exclaimed, as the young couple returned to the carriage. " The man has been here for the tickets, and in another Aw a ! Awa ! moment the train will be off. Good-bye, my child, write to me often, enjoy yourself thoroughly, and come back the dear heart-whole girl you are now." Turning from her mother's embrace, Lorna ex- tended her hand to Alf, and, as she said good-bye, added in an undertonej 11 Don't forget to wear the ring." The young man tried to smile, as he answered, " Never, you have my word." In a few minutes the train was rushing at full speed through the darkness of the night, and Lorna was enjoying the peaceful sleep of youth. Suddenly she started as though stung, and a little cry of pain escaped her lips, as she awoke from a dream, nothing but a dream, one of those queer tangled fantasies that come when the brain half sleeps or just awakens ; one of those moments w r hen we pass through the most ideal scenes of heavenly happiness, or perchance taste the bitterest depths of the catholic hell. Turning over she soon slept again, and forgot the poor young fellow, who, pacing sadly up and down Portland-place, was thinking over the recent parting from his ideal, lingeringly dwelling upon every look, every word, as only a lover can. He lighted his pipe again and again, and wove fancy portraits of Lorna in the smoke clouds, as he trudged slowly between the Langham Hotel and the beautiful Park Square Gardens. 8 Wilton, Q.C. " Yes," he soliloquised, "if Lorna loved me the whole world would be changed. Oh my darling how I love you, till I scarcely know what I say or do. If you were only my wife, I would pass that exam, and get that appointment. Then I should have 1 something to do,' which you seem to consider such a grave necessity. Although I really have enough for us both, far more than enough for myself ; still I would work, work like a black if you wished it." The young man quickened his pace. How long he walked he knew not, his reverie being at last broken by a friendly policeman who said : " Good evening, sir; fine night." 11 Good evening ; yes, the weather seems settled," and instead of pursuing the conversation as he would usually have been inclined to do, he passed on and his thoughts reverted to Lorna, and he built castles in the air, and wove fancy pictures of what might be. And all the time the object of his reverie was fast in the arms of Morpheus. The journey to Inverness was lovely. As morn- ing broke the train passed through Perth, where carriages had to be changed. From thence the line was bordered alternately by pine woods and moor- lands. Lorna was enchanted with the dark majestic pines, that raised their tall, elegant heads in solemn dignity to the sky — ever pointing heavenwards, while their topmost branches seemed almost to kiss the Awa ! Awa ! g feathery clouds. Their massive stems and dark branches smiled down on the tender plants and moss-grown ground beneath, and on the fairy grasses, swaying in the breeze. The route touched the pretty little towns of Dunkeld, Pitlochry, Blair Athol, Kingussie, and the now important Grantown. As the day advanced the shadows lay darkly ere the train ran along the shores of the Moray Frith, past Forres and Nairn to Inverness. Here Lorna had to change again, and as she stepped from her compartment was not a little horrified at the scene before her. There were very few porters — half-a-dozen at the most. The plat- form appeared to be a swaying mass of humanity, each passenger trying to find his own luggage, and no one seeming to know when the next train would start ; from which side of the station, where it was going, or to know anything, in fact. All was hurry and scurry. Everyone w T as in the worst of humours, after a long night's journey from London, therefore it was difficult to obtain any information ; but at last the girl ascertained that two vans contained Euston luggage, while two others on the next platform had come from King's Cross. Making her way quite alone to the point indicated, she stood watching boxes of every shape and size being disgorged. Out they came in dozens, until the platform was literally strewn with all sorts of bundles ; such incongruous io Wilton, Q.C. luggage as large family parties require for a lengthened stay at a Highland shooting-box. Dress-baskets, portmanteaus, perambulators, go- carts, baths, wine cases, canary cages, nurses, babies, hold-alls, pet kittens and puppies squealing in baskets, were bundled out of the train, to be sorted on the platform. Everything one could dream of, in fact, seemed to emerge from those two vans that came from King's Cross, but not Lorna's box. The girl was beginning to bethink her of a dreadful legend she had heard concerning the impossibility of ever finding luggage at Inverness, when a trunk some- thing like hers, with the bottom nearly out, was pitched from the van ! " What a dreadful catastrophe for the owner," she thought ; " probably a woman." But scarcely had the idea flashed through her mind before she realised that the box was her own, and that the blue silk sleeve protruding from a rent in the side belonged to her smart new tea-gown ! " This is mine," she said in a voice of agony to the stationmaster, who was superintending the unloading. " May be it is," he replied. " Whateffer." " But I can't travel with the things tumbling out like that." "May be you can't; you must just get it mended," he rejoined, not in the least disconcerted. " But my train to Beauly goes in a few minutes," explained the girl in despair. Awa ! Awa ! \ \ " Well, you can't go by that train anyhow, unless you leave your luggage behindyou," he answered, with- out the slightest evidence of concern or sympathy. Horrified visions of arriving at the shooting-box, travel-stained and tired, without any change of attire, flashed through her mind, and the girl immediately asked if there were not a later train. 11 Yes ; just one, at three o'clock." " I will go by that then," she declared bravely, but her heart failed her at this experience of a journey alone. The box was instantly thrust aside, to be attended to after more fortunate travellers had departed with their goods and chattels, and, feeling very lonely, Lorna sat down upon it and contemplated the chaotic scene around her. Was this life in the Highlands, she wondered, was every one always in such a hurry, did people rush and tear hither and thither all day, knocking rudely against each other, and grumbling, as those about her were doing ? Suddenly she remembered the Northern mail had been due to start an hour before her train had even arrived, and that for this reason every one was doing his best to collect his own property as fast as possible so as not to miss the connection from Inverness. At last the platform cleared, and the girl was left alone with the box, the station master, and four porters. 12 Wilton, Q.C. " How am I to get this mended ? M she asked. 11 You had better go to the saddler's," was the reply, uttered in broad Scotch, " and we'll take it to the left luggage office till you come back." 11 But how long shall I have before my train starts?" u Three hours, maybe," calmly replied a porter, pushing his cap to the back of his head and wiping his brow, heated with the exertions he had recently undergone. " Then I will try to get some luncheon first, and send a telegram to say I have been detained;" and, having so decided, Lorna left the platform. Much the better for her luncheon, although she had felt rather unhappy at the idea of entering an hotel dining-room alone, Miss Stracey pulled on her dog-skin gloves and proceeded to the High Street to find a saddler's. There was only one man in the shop, and a good deal of talking had to be gone through before he could be persuaded to find a substitute to take his place behind the counter, while he went to the station to mend the box, which had been so ruthlessly bumped to pieces. Together they walked back to the station, a curious couple ; Lorna, looking more stately than ever amid north-country surroundings, presented a strange contrast to her companion, a red-whiskered, red-faced Scot, with his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and his corpulent person adorned with a large Aw a ! Awa ! \ 3 white apron. In his hand he carried packing needles and thread. The left luggage office was not even a room, it was about as exposed a place as could be found north of the Tweed. After the burly Scot had examined the box, he shook his red head and said as one having authority — s " Ye maun unpack it." Now only imagine any woman being told she must unpack all her best clothes and turn them out in the middle of a stone floor at Inverness Station ! " Cannot you possibly mend it without my doing so ? " asked the perplexed owner in a tone of pitiful dismay. 14 Nae, it would nae be fast. Ye maun unpack it." Seeing he was determined, Lorna produced her key. A porter undid the straps, and the saddler, evidently sorry for the girl's position, unfastened his white apron, which, like another Raleigh, he gallantly spread on the stones to receive her gowns. Everything had to be bundled out, the porters meanwhile standing stolidly and silently round. When the trunk was empty the saddler turned it upside down, and showed Lorna with an air of evident satisfaction that the whole of one side and the greater part of the bottom were smashed in. " What a dreadful disaster," the girl exclaimed; u and it is nearly a new box.'' "That's naething," said the doughty Scot. "What. i4 Wilton, Q.C. can ye expect on a Hieland railway in the shooting time?" Resigning oneself to the inevitable is good policy, and accordingly the girl sat herself down on the only available seat, which chanced to be a gen- tleman's hat box, probably containing his best top hat, which by the blessing of Providence had travelled safely thus far to grace the Sabbath at some Scotch kirk. Lorna did not feel at all charitably disposed towards the railway people, when she saw her silver brushes and laces all mixed up with linen and boots, on the floor of the dreary left-luggage office. In one hour and ten minutes, however, needles and thread, hammer, nails, and hard work, had mended the un- fortunate box sufficiently to encounter the exigencies of another railway tour. The London girl could hot help smiling as she realized the absurdity of the scene, which was ren- dered all the more ridiculous when she was assisted to repack all her belongings by the grimy fingered, good hearted, but serious countenanced porters, whose hair was made literally to stand on end by the arrival of the station-master in a fearful rage to ask by whose carelessness the mail bq.gshad been left behind? No one knew; but the fact remained, that the Northern train had actually left without the mail bags, which were still gracefully reposing on the Inverness platform. We Southerners are brought up to believe that the chief object of a train Awa ! Awa ! *5 service is the speedy delivery of the mails ; but we become sadly disillusioned after a stay in the High- lands, where such a contretemps as the foregoing is always possible. Everything comes to an end, even a Highland journey, the very slowness of which amused Lorna, not yet accustomed to the train being pulled up beside a field while Sir Somebody Somebody's party descended at the nearest point to the baronet's shooting box. She had not yet learned that goods trains and passenger trains were identical, that a quarter-of-an-hour is sometimes required to un- couple a van containing a cow or attach a horse- box, and that a little walk into a Highland village is often possible while the guards are chatting, or the luggage trucks being shunted. Lorna realised how the lack of companionship mars one's enjoyment of beautiful scenery ; she felt she wanted someone, anyone, to admire so much beauty with her. Was it not Tom Moore who indicated this truth in his lines on Avoca ? " Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene Her purest of crystal and brightest of green; 'Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill, — Oh, no, it was something more exquisite still. 'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom were near, Who made every scene of enchantment more dear, And who felt how the best charms of Nature improve, When we see them reflected from looks that we love." 16 Wilton, Q.C. The silence and want of sympathy became dis- tressing. View after view, each more beautiful than the last, passed before her eyes till she felt that she could realise the terrible penalty of taking the vows of a Trappist monk, and the horror of being condemned to eternal silence. Lorna was one of those girls from whom one might expect valiant deeds. She was the sort of woman to carry through some gigantic plan. A girl full of promise, but still very young and with her character undeveloped. There was something heroic about the very pose of her well-shaped head, and the thoughtful eyes, that denoted a deep capacity for suffering, spite of the laughter and merriment with which they usually sparkled. Lorna was a strong character, but she had hardly realised the fact herself. She little knew her powers of endurance, her energy, and her great capacity for self-restraint. Ah ! at last, there was the station ! Only the carriage met her. The distance was too great to permit her host to welcome his guests as he would have wished when each set foot on the platform. As the carriage turned in at the massive iron gates of ' The Hirsel " Lorna was surprised to see a hand- some kind of house on the right, with a large nail- studded door and no proper windows, only little round things that could not admit much light, but she hardly had time to wonder what the building could be before a cheery voice exclaimed — Awa ! Awa ! '7 " Welcome, Lorna, my lass, glad to see you," and her genial host, Mr. Fraser, in his tweed kilt and" Glengarry bonnet leant his arms over the brougham door. n Had a good journey, hope you are ready for any amount of fun, eh, Lorna? But you'll be tired, so I won't keep you ; I am just going to the kennels but shall be back directly," and whistling to a couple of lovely collies that had strayed while their master was speaking to his visitor, the Laird, a magnificent High- lander with kindly blue eyes and a long grey beard reaching to his waist, strode off to the kennels with a swinging gait. Mr. Fraser was one of those men everyone loves. Of aristocratic descent, he had inherited the chivalry and daring of his fore- fathers, together with all the delightful courtesy and superstitions of past generations. At the door of the old-fashioned, gaunt, white- washed mansion stood Jean, the Laird's only daughter, and hostess of his home, for, her father being a widower, the neat little woman on the steps kept house for him, and " ran the show " right well. "Very tired, dear?" she asked the new comer, but, without waiting for Lorna's answer, continued, " You did give us a fright telegraphing like that from Inverness. The carriage had started to meet you but met the telegraph boy instead. Some of our guests have played us that prank before, so the groom opened the wire, and on learning its contents C 1 8 Wilton, Q.C. came back again, the horses, therefore, had not the long drive for nothing." " Was it not awful about my box?" asked Lorna, who was still suffering from the shock of her first Highland railway experience. " Never mind ; all's well that ends well ; here you are at last, and I'm right glad to see you," answered Miss Fraser, heartily. " We are having tea in the hall, so come and be introduced," she added, putting her arm round the new arrival's waist, and taking her into the house. What a pretty scene met Lorna's gaze as she entered one of those large old-fashioned halls made snug and warm by tapestry hangings and heavy curtains — a huge fire blazed in the large grate, around which were gathered laughing, chattering men and pretty women. 11 Lorna, you know my cousin Hugh Lempriere ? You've met him in London when he was staying with us." "Of course I know Miss Stracey," replied a splendid looking fellow of some six feet four in height, jumping up from the smallest seat in the room, to hold open the door for the girls. " Hope you had a pleasant journey." " Mrs. Jackson, may I introduce my friend Lorna Stracey ? " went on the hostess. " Very pleased to make your acquaintance," was the polite answer. " I am sure you must be Awa ! Awa ! \g dreadfully tired; it's an awful journey from town As to-morrow is the Twelfth, I told Miss Fraser I must come a day or two earlier, so as to unpack and rest, before she drags me over those dreadful moors," and the pretty widow sank back in her cushioned chair, where her luxuriant auburn hair contrasted well with the sea-green shade of the silk against which her head reposed. " What a strangely thick throat she has," thought Lorna ; " and a round head like the statues of the Roman emperors ; and she has their square shoulders too. Is she as cruel, crafty, and designing as they were? No, of course not; she is very beautiful." But Lorna had not long to soliloquise. " Mr. Fitzroy Bagshot, come and be introduced," the sprightly little hostess continued as an inner curtain w r as raised, and a neat little man in some wonderful silk suit, lined with the softest shade of salmon satin, entered. "This is my friend Lorna Stracey from London ; she has never been in Scotland before, so we must initiate her into the mysteries of life in the Highlands." At this juncture the butler appeared with fresh tea, and Lorna attacked mustard and cress sand- wiches, and shortbread, with an honest hearty appetite. " It's a funny name, The Hirsel, isn't it ? " Lorna remarked to Mr. Fraser in the middle of the much appreciated tea. u Of course it is Scotch ? " C 2 2o Wilton, Q.C. u Very. It means a sheepfold ; I'm the shepherd and you are all my flock. Talking of sheep, " con- tinued the Highlander, " I only know one riddle, and that's about them." - "Well, and what is it?" " Why are sheep the most dissipated of animals?" " Considering you have just said we were all your flock, that is a very rude question," answered the dignified but amused Lorna. " I for one shall not try to guess." " That's right, don't guess, guessing only spoils riddles ; give it up and I'll tell you." " Given up, then." 11 Because," wickedly laughed the laird, " they are dissipated in their youth — don't they gambol ? they frequent the turf early, are often blacklegs, and invariably fleeced." Everyone chatted pleasantly, discussing the merits of a fire in the evening, even so early in August, and the time slipped merrily away till the butler appeared with the post-bag, which had arrived by Lorna's train, and distributed its contents to the guests, who soon becoming absorbed in their letters and the London papers, took no note of time, till the gong warned them they must dress for dinner. The two girls, however, had left the hall long before the dressing-bell sounded, for Jean wanted to show Lorna her room. " It's next to mine, you see, so we can have lots Aw a ! Aw a ! 21 of quiet chats, and talks over dear London, and the Park, and Bond Street, and Sandown, and the newest gowns and hats, and everything. Oh, and what about that nice Alf Curtis, have you accepted him yet, Lorna ? " " No ; and now tell me Jean, who are all the people here? " " Well, there's Daddy and me — charming and all that sort of thing ; and then there's Mrs. Jackson — she's very handsome, is she not ? She was formerly rich, but since her husband died has lost a lot of money, so she can't dress quite so expensively as she did, which I think she regrets far more than the loss of her husband," and the girl's eyes twinkled merrily. " Then you know Hugh Lempriere, my cousin ; he's a dear boy, very Scotch, of course, on his mother's side, and he looks splendid every evening in his full dress kilt ; he has just passed his final for medicine, so we all call him ; doctor,' ' the girl rattled on. " Fitzroy Bagshot owns race- horses and does everything ' smart ' ; but I can't make him out, so you'll have to get Bea to tell you all about him ; she is Hugh's sister, and she and Bagshot seem to be great chums, but I don't pretend to understand him at all. You'll like Bea, she's so good — not exactly pretty, but always nice and always to be relied on. Then there are a couple more men, Sir Laurence Cave, 22 Wilton, O.C. very old family, is rich, and all that sort of thing, has a shooting near here, is a splendid shot — good all round man, in fact ; and Captain Urquhart, a dashing soldier, and a very charming fellow, but, like many in his profession, decidedly impecunious. That's all, dear, and now I must run and dress for dinner." CHAPTER II. "THE TWELFTH." At 5 a.m. next morning grey streaks of dawn were entering the room, when, sleepily rubbing her eyes, Lorna remembered it was the Twelfth. Yes, the Twelfth, a day looked forward to from year to year by all true sportsmen. Was it fine, she won- dered ? She listened. What was that mysterious pat, pat, pat, on the window? Before she could settle comfortably down to sleep again she must certainly look out, and make quite sure it was not rain, for that would spoil all the day's sport. Anxiously drawing aside the curtains she peered forth into the dim light of early morn. Rain and mist, nothing but mist and rain met her gaze. The landscape was shadowed, the sky was of lead. Was this to continue all day ? Was this the Twelfth she had travelled north to meet ? Turning away disgusted and feeling a little chilled, she closed the curtains and returned to dream. She lay thinking of sweet incidents in Scotland, of all the wonderful things she was to see and do, while the patter, patter, of the rain only seemed to warn her 24 Wilton, Q.C. of evils to come. It kept up a melancholy accom- paniment to the ticking of the old-fashioned clock on the chimney piece, and somehow she seemed to be haunted by Alf s sad face, as she last saw it, and felt unable to efface from her mental vision. At half-past eight the breakfast gong sounded, as that had been the hour appointed, so that the men might get off in good time. Indeed, the party had broken up quite early on the previous evening, as everyone wanted to be fit and well for an early start next morning, in order to shoot creditably on the great and glorious Twelfth. Lorna was full of expectation and anticipation — she had never seen any kind of shooting, but had heard enough sporting stories from Jean to whet her appetite for more, and she could hardly realise the joyful fact that she was in the Highlands, in the very midst of it all, and that to-day was the first of grouse shooting. On the previous evening Mr. Fraser had said, in reply to a question she put to him : " Shooting over dogs, Lorna, is the king of sports, and the courage required is well expended on the cause, as you will see to-morrow." When Miss Stracey entered the dining-room, feeling quite excited at the idea of the day's pleasure, Hugh exclaimed, " The top of the morning to you." M Lorna w T on't know what you mean," said Jean, " The Twelfth." 25 remembering the girl had never been in Scotland before. "That is just why I said it," he replied; "we mean to make a Scotch lass of her, and the sooner we begin the better." While he was speaking he crossed over to the sideboard, where, filling a plate with porridge from a large soup tureen, he walked with it to the fireplace, on which he turned his back, and, balancing the plate in his left hand, partook of his porridge in a truly uncomfortable Highland fashion before sitting down to his regular breakfast. Mr. Fraser, looking the picture of misery, gravely shook his head, as he said, " No sport to-day, my boys, I fear, for even if the rain were to abate a little, the mist is so dense you could not see the birds on the wing. Hugh, get more to the west of the fire, lad, you are taking up all the room." "What is the west?" inquired Lorna, who had been silently amused at the whole porridge per- formance. " Daddy, it is really too bad of you," said Jean, " you are bewildering my poor girl talking in such a way. We use the terms ' east and west ' in Scotland as you do ' right and left ■ in England, and I daresay to a stranger it does sound somewhat odd. They are just trying to puzzle you, Lorna, it's very naughty of them." " Oh, I like it. I want to see, and hear, and eat, 26 Wilton, Q.C. and do everything Scotch, so I will begin with some porridge, please." - " We call it ' them,' " mischievously put in Hugh, handing her a saucerful, " no sugar, mind — only salt and cream — Highland fashion." Fitzroy Bagshot was the last to arrive for break- fast. u Awfully late I know — beastly day, didn't see any good in getting up at all. By gad, what rain ! what a Twelfth ! Eggs and bacon ? No, thank you. A cup of coffee and toast will do for me." And he sat himself down near chubby-faced Bea. " Bea, dear, look after Mr. Bagshot, we are all going away," said Jean, and the room quickly emptied, leaving the two alone. They were a strong contrast. Bea Lempriere was a fine specimen of a healthy country girl, with a lovely complexion and pretty red wavy hair. She was tall like her brother, and possessed a lithesome rounded figure, thanks to riding, tennis, fishing, and every sort of outdoor exercise. Fitzroy Bagshot was a little sallow dark man, with a broad forehead and projecting eyebrows denoting thought ; but as Jean had told Lorna, he was an enigma. Clever, well read, a gentleman by birth and education, full of refined feelings, he devoted the whole of his life and his large income to horse- racing. He never betted, he generally rode his own horses, and at different times in his life had broken nearly every bone in his body. He hated drinking, The Twelfths smoking, gambling, and the usual racing adjuncts, and yet he spent his life among his stable boys, over whom he undoubtedly had a good influence. From constant contact with them he had unwittingly picked up their slang, and consequently interlarded every sentence with stable or weighing-room talk, much to Bea Lempriere's annoyance. She was always correcting him. He was always apologising, and doing exactly the same thing the next minute, and their continual spars afforded much amusement to the house party. Bagshot was a puzzle to the men, because, although effeminate in appearance and outre in dress, he rode magnificently, was a crack shot, and a first-class fisherman. To the women he was still more of an enigma, for while he seemed to be always on the point of saying something he ought not, he invariably refrained from actually doing so, and, though he swore shockingly, he apologized afterwards, and really was a little gentleman at heart, and one who held women in the highest esteem. No person could understand him except Bea, who, however, was always chaffing and scolding him. " Mr. Bagshot, why do you use such dreadful expressions ? " asked Bea, as the other guests departed. " You know I don't like to hear them." 11 Can't say, I'm sure, Miss Bea ; it's my way I suppose — got it from the boys." 11 Well, you may talk in that way to the boys in 28 Wilton, Q.C. your racing-stable if you like, but I'm not one of them, and I don't like it." " Sorry — won't sin again. Have some mar- malade ? " " No, thank you, I have finished, and so has everyone else I think, except yourself." " I shan't be long, I never eat much breakfast." " Do you starve yourself to keep thin for riding?" asked Bea. " I don't exactly like it put that way. Starve is a strong word, Miss Bea, but I do try to keep my weight down." 11 Do you ride all your horses ? " " No, the weights vary so much — but I ride whenever I can, whenever it doesn't mean too much lead." " Lead ! what on earth do you mean ? " " Sometimes the jockey is not heavy enough, and then he has to carry lead in his saddle, which we call dead weight you know." " What a lot I am learning," the girl exclaimed, as she handed him a second cup of tea before joining the rest of the party. They had all known that sport would probably prove bad that August, in consequence of the nesting having been late, and that the birds would not be ready for another week or ten days at least ; still the whole party did hope to get a shot or two on the Twelfth, just for old association The Twelfth" 29 and the luck of the thing; therefore, their dis- appointment at the steady downpour may be imagined. It was a wretched day. The men went to the windows and looked out, the women tapped the weather-glass and sighed, the gillies came to the door to know what was to be done, and misery reigned supreme ! At last, moved by some common impulse, everyone migrated to the gun room 3 where, over the chimney- piece, in a rack that continued along the wall, some dozens of firearms were ranged. They had belonged to the Laird's family for generations. There was a primitive old flint, probably one of the early guns brought into this country in the reign of William III. There was an old blunderbuss beside a well- preserved Joe Manton, the percussion-cap gun of its day, then the breechloaders, beginning about 1835, w ^h the now primitive-looking pin fire, followed by the improved central fire, and cul- minating in the modern ejector hammerless, with a safety bolt that almost defies accidents. The hammerless 20 and 28-bores belonging to Jean were beauties to look upon. There were express rifles, and rook and rabbit rifles of various bores, light and heavy, as well as every kind of fishing tackle. The cartridge boxes were on the shelves, filled with E.C., Schultz, or black powder, and fives or sixes, B.B. or S.S.G. shot. Cartridges for all sorts of game in fact, yet that day utterly useless ! 30 Wilton, Q.C. Mr. Fraser, as Bea and Bagshot entered, was explaining how he was dead against tips, for he said, " Even the best servants in the world will favour the man who gives the most ; and it is hard lines for the youngsters. Besides, money presents usually tend to lower the recipients, since they are seldom the gift of friendship." Therefore, in the gun room he had placed a box marked " keeper's fund," and himself distributed the contents according to his lights to the men in right proportion at the end of the season. Would that more hosts would do the same, and thereby save their guests many an anxious moment. That gun-room was a real business-like and com- fortable den, but still one calculated to arouse sad thoughts on such a day concerning what " might have been." There the shooting boots stood in rows, visitors' gun-cases lay open, the very cartridges were ready ; but the weather was heartbreaking ; so after inspection of priceless and much-discussed treasures, and a few good anathemas at the rain, no one knew exactly what to do. Jean, who had really originated the excursion to the gun-room to discover what her male guests thought of doing, finding that they had no ideas at all on the weather subject except to grumble, brilliantly suggested that as it seemed impossible to go out, and as they had used quite as much bad language as she wished to hear, they might The Twelfth." 31 work off a little of their superfluous energy by dancing a Scotch reel." " Capital idea," said Mrs. Jackson. " You young people will just make an eightsome ; I will play for you," and the notion taking at once, the fun soon became fast and furious, even Lorna, who had only learnt to dance reels at school, being soon well initiated, amid laughter, into the mysteries of an eightsome. Scotch reels were followed by other dances, which helped to while away the time. And then Sir Laurence and Jean were persuaded to perform a sword dance for the benefit of their English friends, and very prettily they did it too. The girl's short shooting dress showed to advantage her neat little feet as they hopped over the walking sticks substituted for swords. " How charmingly you play, Mrs. Jackson," said the Laird, leaning on the piano ; "it is so nice your being able to rattle off reels and waltzes for the young people in such splendid style." " I think music is useful — in a country house — but oh, dear, I do get so sick of it in the season. Every drawing-room one enters with a ' hush/ and exits half-an-hour afterwards with another ( hush.' I like to talk to my friends at these crushes, not to stare at them." " Oh, come, it is not always so bad as that." " Is it not ? Sometimes the guests talk right through the music, and one retires with a sore 32 Wilton, Q.C. throat from having tried to keep up a conversation above the musical entertainment." " You are severe. Anyway, your dance music is quite inspiriting." " T love to try to be useful/' said the widow with a bewitching smile. " And you certainly succeed in being ornamental also," returned her host, evidently to the satisfaction of the lady, who smiled and looked down at her pretty white hands on which many rings sparkled, as her lithesome fingers sped over the keys. " 1 am glad still to be so ornamental," she retorted, " that I need not join the army of women, who, finding their attraction for men lessening, take to hysteria, and find consolation in smart bed jackets or gay tea gowns, and pay their doctor a guinea per flirtation ! " which view of a frisky old age seemed so appalling to the simple-minded host that he did not know what remark to make, and wisely remained silent. " What a delightful home you have, Mr. Fraser," suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Jackson, after a pause of some minutes ; " quite an ideal home, adorned with pictures of your ancestors, draped with tapestries that have hung on the old walls since the days when they were first stitched, and how charmingly your daughter plays the role of hostess ! " " Yes, I am very fortunate," answered the fine old man, complacently stroking his long, grey beard. "The Twelfth:' 33 " Ah/' she sighed, her face clouding over with an expression of sorrow while her fingers flew faster than ever, " we never appreciate the joys of the present until we have lost them. I am alone in the world, with no home, no husband, no child. I have no one now to take the slightest interest in where I go, or what I do," and her pretty mouth puckered at the corners, and her long eyelashes drooped. " By Jove ! she's a very lovely woman," thought the old gentleman, " pity she is so lonely," and he was about to essay some word of comfort, when the conversation was interrupted by a cry of " Another forfeit." One stipulation had been made, namely, that while dancing continued anyone who mentioned the weather, or grumbled, should be fined. As a natural consequence, quite a little pile of forfeits was col- lected, the reclamation of which caused plenty of fun, and finally everyone, in the best of spirits, finished by yelling Chevalier's delightful comic- p ithetic songs at the top of his or her voice. 'Luncheon came all too soon, and still it poured, and thick mist overspread the landscape. How- ever, sportsmen could not be kept indoors all day, so at two o'clock the guests decided, with true British energy, to go out and kill something. Oh, how it rained all the afternoon, rained as it only can in the Highlands, and the " bag " was never discovered by the ladies, who elicited no further D 34 Wilton, Q.C. information than that the men did shoot " some- thing," but what that " something " was remains to this day a mystery. Perhaps it was only a domestic cat! The next morning proved perfect. What a change from the dreary rain of the previous day ! After breakfast a couple of four-wheeled dog-carts drove up to the door, and at ten o'clock everyone booted and gaitered, and in the best of spirits was ready to start. The luncheon and the mackintoshes were securely packed away, and then Mr. Fraser, who was to drive the first " machine," asked Mrs. Jackson to take her seat beside him. Jean, no less able a whip than her father, chose Sir Laurence as box seat companion, perhaps because of his right of precedence, perhaps ? The others stowed themselves away at the back of the conveyances somehow, and after a good deal of laughing and chaffing, all were at last ready for a three or four miles drive along the pretty mountain road, to a patch of open ground, in the middle of which stood a small croft. Before the door, awaiting their arrival, they saw the keepers, the dogs, and the fat old pony with his large pannier game baskets slung across his back, into which luncheon and mackin- toshes were speedily transferred, and a friendly M A'recht " from the keeper sent the party under- weight for the moor. The ground was sodden with yesterday's rain. The Twelfth" 35 " Oh dear! oh dear! it is muddy," exclaimed Mrs. Jackson, raising her long skirts, beneath which she displayed spotless white flounces and frills, and peeping from below a neat pair of feet, encased in the daintiest of patent leather boots. " Why, my dear lady ! " exclaimed Mr. Fraser in horror, " you will surely never be mad enough to attempt to walk in those boots and long skirts. Did you not know we were going to the moor ? u " Oh, yes, I knew quite well ; but I can't wear great, thick, horrid, hob-nailed boots and ugly short skirts, although I have a pretty foot and ankle/' she replied. " But I don't see how you can possibly walk through the slush caused by yesterday's rain, and across wet heather, clothed as you are," persisted the man, kindly concerned for his guest's comfort. " I shall be all right, I have done it before, and I suppose I can do it again. I always change when I get home you know, and a dry gown, and my toes on the fender, will make up for any incon- venience on the moor." "Just as you like; but my girl wears a regular dress." " I know she does, and it suits her, but a short tweed skirt, big boots, knickerbockers and manly gaiters to the knee, coupled with a Norfolk jacket and a Scotch cap, would hardly suit me" she replied, putting her head a little on one side with a D 2 36 Wilton, Q.C. most fascinating smile. M I see, too, your dear daughter has initiated her friend Miss Stracey into a mysterious 'get up' for the moors, as that young lady has turned out quite de riguer this morning, although she says she has never been in the Highlands before. Oh, yes, I can manage somehow/' she continued, " and I will, if only for the pleasure of seeing you shoot, dear Mr. Fraser. You must tell me exactly what I am to do, and when I am to be quiet. I will obey your orders implicitly." " I am sure you will ; all I hope is you won't get too wet or too tired," replied the genial laird. 11 Mr. Bagshot seems to be getting on very well," she continued. " What a strange man he is; does he race as much as ever ? " " Yes ; I can't make him out. His father and I were college chums. Young Bagshot lost both his parents while yet a minor, so that when he came of age he had forgotten the joys of home influence, and owned more money than is good for a young man. He is clever, you know. Went to the 'Varsity, took his degree, and was even called to the Bar ; reads a lot, is a man of culture and taste, and yet seems to be entirely fascinated by the mysteries of racing stables, and the turf minus the betting ring." " Does he ever win anything?" asked Mrs. Jackson. 11 No, I don't think he does, for he never bets ; but he loses thousands a year for the pleasure racing " The Twelfth." 37 gives him, and frankly says so. It is a most extraordinary mania ; like drink with others, it seems to have got such a hold over the poor chap, he can't break it off, although in other respects he has a strong character. He has become a teetotaler you know for the sake of example, and given up betting for the same reason I believe/' " What a curious idea," commented Mrs. Jackson ; "racing stables and teetotalism seem antagonistic." "The best thing that could happen to the chap," he went on, " would be to fall in love with some really good girl who might prove the making of him." < " I think," replied Mrs. Jackson, " he is on the high road to accomplish the first part of your suggestion, for he has never left Miss Lempriere's side since we started, and, judging by her cross little face, I fancy she has been lecturing him again. He seems to like her scoldings." "Mrs. Jackson," called Jean from behind, at this juncture," part of your lace flounce is torn, let me help you to take it off." "Oh dear! oh dear! how tiresome," exclaimed the fashionable lady, and she lifted her skirt a little higher, in order apparently to display the prettiest of boots. " Has anyone a knife?" Jean asked. " I have," said Captain Urquhart, who immediately opened a large hunting knife, which he had used 38 Wilton, Q.C. during many a chase in India, and cut the dainty frills from their cambric foundation. Hardly had he accomplished this feat before the party came to a stone wall, which Mrs. Jackson viewed with fresh consternation. " You don't mean to say I have to get over that" exclaimed the widow, " I had no idea I was to go steeplechasing when I came out !•" 11 Get over it ? Of course you must/' said Jean, " and when you have done so you will find that there are lots more to follow. " "Oh dear! oh dear!" what shall I do ? " sighed poor Mrs. Jackson. " I will show you," said Jean, and with one bound she sprang on to the top of the stone wall, where she stood triumphantly for a moment, and then giving her hand to Captain Urquhart jumped down on the other side. " I could not do that," said Mrs. Jackson. " You two men must go on in front, and Jean will help me over." " Oh ! let me give you a hand," entreated Mr. Fraser. " No, no, I would rather there were no spectators, so, to please me, walk on and do not look back." Her tone left the men no choice but to obey, and they strode off. "What a devil of a fuss that woman makes," exclaimed Captain Urquhart. " If she can't get "The Twelfths 39 over walls, or walk through mud, why did she come on to the hill at all?" " You must not talk like that/' replied the elder man, " remember she is my guest." " I beg your pardon, Mr. Fraser, I had no right to make the remark. I apologise ; but she is a funny woman. I am devoted to widows generally. They have all the charms of married women, and none of the inconveniences of husbands ! But Mrs. Jackson beats me ! " After a good deal of hesitation and a considerable amount of fuss, Mrs. Jackson succeeded in getting over the wall, and tumbling into Jean's arms at the bottom, more lace frills being caught in the great stones, and torn during the process. " Would you rather go back ? " the young hostess asked, feeling quite distressed. 11 When are you going to shoot ? " the widow asked. " Directly." " Then I will see a few shots fired first." After about half-an-hour's walk up the heathery mountain side, they reached the shooting ground, but not before Mrs. Jackson suffered still further tortures. On their way the party had to cross a stream, which was so swollen with the terrific rain of the previous day, that the stepping-stones were entirely submerged. What were they to do ? It was early in the day to get wet feet; which could 40 Wilton, Q.C. not be avoided in crossing, even with shooting boots and gaiters, as the water was eight or ten inches deep over the stones ; yet, since this chanced to be the only way of getting to the hill, they were in despair. The Laird wondered how on earth they were to manage, and could have blessed Donald, the keeper, when he suggested that the old pony might come to the rescue. So said so done. The panniers were taken off, and the entire party crossed one by one on the animal's back, to the discomfort of each in turn. Poor Mrs. Jackson accepted the position, and made less fuss than her companions expected. In a few minutes a halt was made in order that everyone might be given marching orders. The dogs, who had all been coupled up till now, were sitting in a row on their haunches, eager for the sport, their silken coats, black, brown, and white, shining in the sun. Pretty, excited creatures ! Captain Urquhart and Hugh went with Angey, the second keeper, and a couple of dogs to the right ; Mr. Fraser, Bagshot, and Sir Laurence, with Donald, were to move round to the left ; and the ladies, with the other dogs and pony, were to go to the luncheon ground and rest ; as it stood high, with the help of field-glasses they could at the same time watch the men and their dogs quartering the ground. It was a lovely clear day, bright and warm, but The Twelfth." 41 with a fresh wind blowing, which rendered the air pleasantly cool. Inverness stood forth across the Moray Frith in a gleam of sunshine, and the distant hills of Ross-shire were brilliantly distinct. Too distinct for the future, no doubt ; but very beautiful meanwhile. Mr. Fraser and his guests turned sharp off to the left, and immediately a couple of pointers were let loose and got to work. Like mad creatures they scampered over the heather, rushing hither and thither in their wild career. Slowly the three men and Donald trudged on behind, almost as much excited as the dogs themselves at the prospect of a good day's sport. The dogs were ranging too wide in their excitement, but a whistle from Donald brought them back at once, and they resumed their work steadily up wind. " A point/' murmured Mr. Fraser at length. There stood the liver and white pointer motionless, as though he were rivetted to the spot, his nose in the direction of the game and his tail well out. The second dog, Bell, saw the point and stealthily crept up behind him, her nose and tail equally straight. When within a few feet of the pointer she stopped dead. There they both stood motionless. They had done their work and were waiting the signal. There is nothing more delightful than to watch a dog do his part well, or to see him absolutely 42 Wilton, Q.C. obedient to the word of command. Motionless they stood until the guns had gained on them, and were all near enough to be within shot. A wave of the hand from the keeper and on solemnly marched the dogs to the game they had scented from afar. A few paces forward and up flew five grouse that had been sitting close among the purple heather. Bang, bang, bang, and down came three of them ; a second later another bang brought down the fourth, a low skimming bird, which almost touched the top of the heather in its flight. The fifth got away. The curly-haired black retriever soon found the dead birds, and taking them carefully in his mouth, brought and laid them at the keeper's feet. " Good dog," said Donald, " seek dead," and encouraged by this praise, off the retriever went again to find the last bird. He searched in vain. " He must have been a runner," exclaimed Sir Laurence, as the dog scented hither and thither. Some minutes elapsed and still it could not be discovered, although Sir Laurence declared he had seen the bird fall. It was ultimately found, however, having been a runner as suggested. So a couple of brace were put into the bag, the men trudging on again and the dogs working as before. A few hundred yards further on up rose a single bird, but his days were numbered ; with one bang from the Laird's gun he fell into the heather. Five brace got up next time, almost out of range, but one shot from a choke-bore " The Twelfth." 43 was fired into the " brown V of them, and a couple of birds were unexpectedly added to the bag. The baronet had only marked down one, but the clever old dog found the other. " Ah ! what is this, white heather ? " suddenly exclaimed Sir Laurence. Yes, indeed, the little patch was really white heather, emblem of luck to the finder. The baronet carefully picked several sprays, which he gave to his loader to carry. He was a very keen sportsman and an excellent shot, and his loader always followed close behind him, therefore almost before the smoke from the first two barrels had cleared away, a freshly loaded gun was in his hands. He had his own dogs, too, beasts of which he was very proud ; but unfortunately his favourite got sore feet on this occasion. Being only the second day out, she was a bit soft, as dogs are apt to be early in the season. The kindly Sir Laurence was quite distressed about her, and insisted on her feet being bathed in brine, &c, when she got back to the kennels, for he was one of those men who loved his animals as himself. As the party appeared over the sky line, a small covey rose within shot, and were quickly secured for the bag. " We have indeed had luck to-day/' Sir Laurence exclaimed, " beautiful weather, plenty of birds, and white heather, quite fulfilling the requirements of the 44 Wilton, Q.C. saying, ' weather, heather, feather,' only one thing remains to complete our happiness, and that is to discover some staghorn moss for the luncheon-table." He had not to wait long before his wish was realised, for Donald found a good supply, which the ladies received w r ith great joy. By 1.30 the men had walked some miles and were glad to cry a halt, for the first day's tramp over heather is very tiring when the sun is hot and the men are " soft." On reaching their trysting place they found the other party there before them, and that the ladies who went ahead with the pony and reserve dogs had made everything ready for luncheon. On the mossy grass a tablecloth was spread, and mackintoshes laid round it. It was a lovely spot, with glorious hills for background, and a foreground of purple heather, and Mr. Fraser's guests formed a picturesque group. Soon all were busy with dainty dishes of rabbit- pie, delicious pasties, sandwiches of different kinds, rice shape and jam, which were soon made short work of. and thoroughly enjoyed. The ladies, who naturally were not tired, waited on the men, and many a joke was cracked when once the first pangs of hunger were appeased. The old pony was good enough to join the party at luncheon, rubbing his nose into everyone's hand, or eating the heather, until he was handed a ham sandwich, which he devoured with the greatest relish, and, as he seemed eager for " The Twelfth." 45 more, one of the party gave him half-an-ounce of tobacco, which he appeared to think quite delicious. The dogs were thrown a few scraps, and the guns managed very well, kept in good company by the women. The mountain air and exercise had manu- factured the most wonderful appetites already, nothing however to those which developed a fort- night later, when, as Lorna wrote to her mother, " I seem to be incapable of fatigue, and am able to eat anything and everything, with the appetite of a half-starved schoolboy, home for the first few days of his holidays. " A total of thirty-three-and-a-half brace of grouse, one snipe, and five hares was the morning's work. "Very good work, too," said Mr. Fraser, M in these bad days, for the grouse are deteriorating, and soon there won't be any to shoot. Besides, we shall do more in the afternoon ; the scent will be better then, just before feeding time, especially on such a hot day. They are not a bit wild, as they were in the wind and wet yesterday, thank goodness ! " They were all very much pleased with each other and with the sport generally, and while the men enjoyed their pipes the women packed the hampers. " What were those patches of burnt ground we passed?" Lorna asked Mr. Fraser. " Those are the feeding grounds/' replied the Laird. "Grouse live on the tender shoots of young heather. Every year about March we burn several 46 Wilton, Q.C. of these patches, each about half an acre in extent." " I wonder that does not set all the moor on fire." "■It would if it were not watched; but when enough has been burnt off the keepers and beaters put out the flames with sticks. The first summer these clearings are not of much good, but the next spring tender young shoots make perfect grouse food, and the thick old heather bordering the patch forms what we call ' strong holding cover.' " Once the pipes were finished, the men grew keen to be off, and all turned to Donald for orders. Now Donald, the head keeper, was a splendid looking Lowlander, transplanted to the Highlands, a man of gigantic proportions, with an enormous red beard, and merry blue eyes. He was a very important person, a head keeper being master of the situation. He dressed, like his master, in check tweed ; the charming brown velveteen coat worn by the former generation of keepers being almost a relic of the past. Donald's first thought was for his young mistress, whom he called " Missie." " Are you going to shoot to-day, Missie?" he loyally enquired. " Well, I can't resist one shot," replied Jean, M and as I'm not tired I'll come a little way with you, and meet the ladies on the other side of the brae." Donald had taught her to shoot, while still a mere child, and he was very proud of her steady aim, and The Twelfth" 47 always took care to put her into the first rank of the guns. " Missie " made the sixth gun, and it was decided they should all walk in line. Bea had kindly pro- mised to go home with Mrs. Jackson and the empty luncheon baskets ; therefore Jean and Lorna remained, for it was the Twelfth, or its equivalent, and who would miss seeing a grouse on the Twelfth, if she could help it ? After about a quarter of an hour's easy walk, Donald called them to order. The shooting was to begin, and they were to take their places. " Missie " went to the left, and about twenty yards from her stood Sir Laurence, and so on, till all were in line. A little in front walked Donald with a couple of pointers, one black and the other brown and white. Donald gave a few final directions in Gaelic, and then utter stillness reigned. He unleashed his dogs, who immediately scampered off, and the solemn line of guns marched steadily forward. The dogs rushed helter skelter over the heather, not yet as purple as it would be later on, but much to Donald's annoyance, they ranged too wide again ; his whistle, however, soon brought them back within bounds. Only those who have seen dogs work can realise their sagacity and wonderful obedience. If they are not obedient they are useless, they not only spoil the sport, but demoralize the other dogs. That very morning the host had been so much annoyed at the 48 Wilton, Q.C. insubordination of a new pointer recently purchased, that, after trying him for half-an-hour, he turned to the keeper and gave orders the animal should be sold at once. " Before/' as he said, " he ruins every dog in my kennels. " The dogs worked splendidly. In a few minutes there was a point. The party bore round to approach from the side of the pointing dog. Almost im- mediately there was a flutter in the heather, and some half-dozen birds rose simultaneously. They were strong on the wing, but bang, bang, bang, went the guns, and birds and their feathers darkened the air as, with the exception of a couple that got away, all were laid low. The dogs had done their work well, the men had shot straight, and four birds were added to the bag after the old black retriever had performed his part. Each gun marked his own bird. Lorna, who had kept near to Jean and the keeper, was tremendously excited, but she behaved splendidly and never uttered a sound. On they marched again. Several times the dogs half pointed, only to find they had been deluded by some old scent, when they scampered away again over the heather and across the little peat- coloured streams. A large bird whizzed over their heads, and almost as it rose it was shot dead. It was not a grouse, and for a moment all were at a loss to imagine its species. 11 The Twelfth." 49 " It is one of the common buzzard tribe/' said the Laird, " not very often met with in the lowlands, but a great enemy of the grouse in these parts — almost as great an enemy as the golden eagle, some- times found in the Highlands, and a disastrous neighbour to grouse, ptarmigan, mountain hares, and young deer, all of which are its prey." The scenery was lovely, though the hills were not high, neither was the heather particularly coloured, but Lorna already felt the intoxicating delights of moorland sport. Another point, and a proper one too, by Donald's gesticulations, brought every gun to a shoulder as a small covey rose. More depends on the raising of the gun than in the actual aim. Many say the whole shot depends upon it. The birds were well-nigh out of range for most of the guns, so that a brace and a half only were bagged. "Missie" still kept her post to the left, and as she walked forward, a fine specimen of a strong, healthy, little Scotch lass, a couple of birds rose almost at her feet. It was splendid. She waited, the personification of womanly grace, a second for them to get wing, and then up went her gun. Bang, and both birds fell low. She had waited till they were parallel, and with one shot secured them both. It was a shot that any sportsman might envy, and yet it was a woman's hand that had pulled the trigger. " Well done!" cried Sir Laurence. "That shot was worth all the day's sport." E 50 Wilton, Q.C. After that the line wheeled round a bit and walked up the hillside. There were no birds lying there, as the heather was burnt quite low, and the roots were dry and indigestible food for grouse, " Why have you brought us up if there are no birds ? " asked Jean, keen after her recent success. " Bide a wee, Missie," and Donald just walked ahead. On the hill-top things were better, and they had hardly all scrambled on to the brow before a double point was made, and a splendid covey of birds rose, and a substantial add.ition was made to the game basket. It was undoubtedly a good day's sport. The birds rose well, the coveys were large and strong on the wing. The larder showed an unusually good number of birds that evening, and while Mr. Fraser entered his notes in his wonderful new game register, of which he was as proud as a M wee girlie" of a new doll, the guests all agreed they had thoroughly enjoyed their postponed Twelfth, and acknowledged the unfailing kindness of their Scotch host and hostess in that Highland home on the Beauly Frith. Little did anyone dream of the romance to be enacted at The Hirsel before the end of the shooting season so pleasantly commenced that day. CHAPTER III. "A HIGHLAND DINNER." " Jean, dear, don't forget Lance Wilton is coming to-night, " said Mr. Fraser. " Lance Wilton, Mrs. Jackson, you probably know by name." 11 Do you mean the great barrister ? " " Yes." 14 He is a great gun, is he not?" 11 Legally, yes — sportingly, no. Wilton is a won- derful man. After taking all sorts of honours at Oxford, he went to the Bar, made a huge success, and has just taken silk, although not yet forty. He is standing for Don — - — at the next election. Capital fellow, but has two grave faults — he can't shoot, and is an awful Radical ! " (( Two irrevocable crimes in Mr. Fraser' s eyes," laughed the widow. 11 I begin to think Radicalism cannot be all bad since it has found an adherent in Wilton, " replied Mr. Fraser. " Do you know him well ? " the lady asked. " Oh, yes, we knew him in London, and he was up here last August for awhile; but he is a very E 2 52 Wilton, Q.C. busy man, and even now couldn't get here for the Twelfth because he had some public business to attend to." 11 Where does he generally live?" queried Mrs. Jackson, interested in the arrival of a new man. 11 He has a charming flat in Mayfair, gives the most delightful dinners imaginable, and is a good fellow all round — isn't he Lorna ? M he continued, addressing Miss Stracey, who had just entered the room. " Isn't who what? I did not hear what you said, Mr. Fraser." 11 Isn't Wilton a capital fellow ? " " He is very nice, I think ; but I only saw him once — that night we dined with you in Portman Square, and went to the theatre afterwards." "What is he like, Miss Stracey? There is no good asking a man that question," prettily queried Mrs. Jackson, who was really interested concerning the new comer, as she was in every man, but more especially when that man happened to be in a good position, as Wilton undoubtedly was. " Well, he is not handsome. His face is very sallow and clean shaven, and he has an enormous mouth — a great cavern when he laughs. But he has two nice things — lovely iron-gray hair, with big waves all over it, and good teeth ; and then he is very tall and portly." " You don't seem to consider him very beautiful, Miss Stracey," the well-gowned widow observed. "A Highland Dinner." 53 li No ; he would be ugly — positively ugly — were it not for his wavy gray hair and commanding figure." It was late ere Lance Wilton arrived, and no one saw him till dinner time. Most of the company were assembled in the drawing-room when the bright little hostess skipped in among them carrying a hat in her hand. 11 Guess what I am going to do with this ! " she exclaimed. "Put it on your head, I should think?" said Hugh. " Get up a sweep on to-morrow's races ?" put in Bagshot. " It is my Sunday hat," said Mr. Fraser. " Going to brush it for me — eh, Jean ? " "No; wrong, wrong, you are all wrong ; the hat will tell you with whom you are to go into dinner. Now, Mrs. Jackson, you draw first." Hearing which statement that lady, smartly dressed in a well-made, long black velvet gown, relieved at the sleeves and neck with handsome old point lace, dipped her hand into the hat, took out a little paper, and, unfolding it with her dainty fingers, said : " Too bad of you, Jean ; what a horrid thing to have drawn." M Why, what is it, Mrs. Jackson ? " everyone exclaimed immediately, and, with a very dissatisfied smile, she answered " Judy." 54 Wilton, Q.C. " Excellent," murmured Bagshot ; " to be so cross over it shows her to be a regular Judy." "You must not say that," replied ever amiable Bea. " How naughty you always are ! ,; " Will you try and make me good ? " he asked. 11 You tell me what to do and I'll do it implicitly. I will do anything you ask me." " Will you ? v the laughing girl answered ; " then go and stand on your head at once." " Now that is too bad," he exclaimed ; " anything in reason, you know, but standing on my head would be too deucedly awkward a position." 11 Well, then, seriously, I wish you would not swear so often. I never do, and I find I get on just as well." M Come, Bea, draw your name," interrupted Jean. . Thereupon Bea ceased lecturing Bagshot, and took out the name "Juliet." " Now, Lorna, it is your turn," said Miss Fraser, turning to the girl who had just entered, dressed in simple soft white silk. Lorna drew forth M JilLV !: Oh, I love Jill," she cried, " it reminds me of the nursery days, when my brother and I used to quarrel and fight, kiss and make up again, over our ( Jack and Jill ' games." When the hat was emptied Jean threw in the men's names. Captain Urquhart drew " Punch," and had the honour of escorting Mrs. Jackson in to " A Highland Dinner" 55 dinner. Bagshot procured " Romeo," to his great delight, as it gave him Bea for his table companion, and just as Mr. Fraser was about to dip his hand into the hat the door opened, and in walked the new visitor. " Oh, Wilton, delighted to see you; hope you feel rested ; come along, and let me introduce you to everybody." " Wait a minute, Mr. Wilton, " said Jean, "you must draw your partner first." " Partner for what ? " he asked. " Only for dinner to-night," she laughingly replied. " What name have you got ? " " Jack," he answered. " Splendid," said Mr. Fraser ; " if I am not mis- taken, Miss Stracey is ( Jill.' Come, Lorna, where are you." The girl rose from her seat and stretching out her hand said, " Perhaps you will hardly remember me, Mr. Wilton ; but I had the pleasure of meeting you at dinner in Portman Square." " Indeed, I remember you perfectly, Miss Stracey, and I am very much pleased to have this oppor- tunity of renewing our acquaintance." A few more remarks, some little chaff concerning the table drawing, and then the gong sounded and they all filed in to dinner. It was a pleasant dining-room. The sideboard was laden with beautiful silver, chiefly won at cours- 56 Wilton, Q.C. ing matches in Mr. Fraser's younger days, the walls were thickly hung with ancestral portraits, smiling down on the assembled guests. In spite of the old- fashioned air of the apartment, the table had all the dainty charm of modern taste. Softly shaded candles and a beautiful slip of old embroidery down the centre set off many a handsome silver cup and curious spoon. A very modern table and a very French dinner, until dessert time came, when the slips were removed and the fine, polished oak boards showed up the Salviati glass and old Sevres china. The exquisitely polished boards reminded one of generations long past, when, as Mr. Fraser laugh- ingly said, " My forefathers drank port wine after dinner and quietly disappeared under the table, as a matter of course, where they remained until their butlers came to fetch them home. Those may have been good old days," he added, " but I think I prefer the sobriety of the present, and the more outward indulgence of comfortable easy chairs, than the inward indulgence of eating and drinking till one could not see." Lorna, who was sitting on Mr. Fraser's left, laughingly asked the old gentleman " What sort of a person a Scotchman really was ? n To which he replied : " A well-known Edinburgh minister once said, ' A Scotchman was a man who kept the Sabbath — and everything else he could lay his hands on } ; and a popular Scotch professor " A Highland Dinner." 57 declared that he had none of the graces except ( saving grace and grace before meat ! ' " " What a naughty story/' she pouted, M and you a Scotchman, too. I shan't talk to you any more." And, turning to Mr. Wilton, she asked him how he was getting on with his constituency. " Fairly well," he said ; " but I shall be glad when the election is over. There is a great deal of work to do, for in politics we must look to the future, the present being only a rung in the ladder." " But surely one must look to the future in everything?" 11 Hardly. Life is very short, and, if we analyse it too much, very wearisome. Most things are not worth troubling about." " I don't like to hear you say that," said Lorna, " I think life is delightful." " Yes, so it is just now." M Not only now, but always." "No, life is as unsatisfactory as the chop one orders from the silver grill. We sit and think about it ; prepare for a deliciously, tender, juicy morsel, and then find it hard and dry ! " "If we do not take the trouble to enjoy the present, we are not likely to enjoy the future. To me it is a pleasure merely to live." " Yes, to you perhaps, Miss Stracey, but believe me, that while there is nothing most persons are so anxious to preserve as life, there is nothing they 58 Wilton, Q.C. enjoy so little. I think most men spend the greater part of existence striving to attain those things which in the end make them miserable ; but you see I am a hard-working man, and my profession only shows me the harsh side of life." 11 Oh, you're a big serious wedge of law-cake," she laughed, teasing him. "Don't look so miserable. Life really is awfully jolly." " Yes, for you ladies who have nothing to do except read novels and smoke cigarettes." " I don't find it at all necessary to smoke cigarettes, but I confess I like novels, and every- thing. Life is delightful, so you had better smile and look pleased — smiling suits you ; but of course you can't know that or you would try the effect a little oftener," she wickedly added. 11 I have learnt to dance a wonderful Scotch reel since I came up," she rattled on, " and you must learn it too." u But I am not a dancing man, unfortunately." " There is all the more fun in store for us then; I'll teach you to turn out your toes, and hold up your skirts, and all that sort of thing." " You seem to be enjoying the Highlands." " Indeed I am ; it is lovely up here, the scenery is glorious. Those great, big hills, and rough moor- lands, covered with the most glorious shades of purple heather. Those huge crags and boulders, all so wild, so grand, so romantic. I love what I have " A Highland Dinner." 59 seen of the Highlands. What a complete change it is, too, from London, with its crowded parties, its heated rooms, and rush and never ending wear and tear. This North country life is fascinating. No one is in a hurry here, and we literally live out of doors. Do you know I could tramp for hours in this bracing air, and it really is tramping I assure you ; heather and bracken require a good deal of ' stepping over ' even on a fine day. Do you like shooting, Mr. Wilton?" " No man likes what he can't do. I am a bad shot, and invariably cause great anxiety to my host, but still I stick to the business, and am going to try my hand at the birds again to-morrow, eh, Fraser ? " Certainly, my dear fellow, we are going to the high moor, where there is generally plenty of game. But have you got your game licence ? " " Yes, I didn't forget it this time. A man must needs be a fool who repeats a mistake." Turning to Miss Stracey he said, " Last year I actually arrived without a licence, which shows what sort of a sportsman I was, I'm afraid, and yet I'm getting awfully keen ; every bird I bring down makes me more so, and Fraser is a splendid teacher." " Wilton is an apt pupil," answered the elder man, with a polite movement of the head, " and if not much of a shot, a keen fisherman. By the bye, Wilton, I found a fellow fishing the other day, a poacher no doubt, and when I remonstrated, the 6o Wilton, Q.C. chap actually had the audacity to say, ' Beg parden, my lord, I was only trying to drown this wurm.' " Hardly had the Laird of The Hirsel made this remark than the dull tuning of the drones to the chanter of the pipes was heard in the distance. " Fancy, Mr. Wilton, I'm getting so Scotch I begin to love that piper who comes in every night when we are at dinner/' said Lorna. " Do you really?" 11 Yes, he is a splendid man, and he wears such a beautiful kilt. He took the first prize at Inverness for dress ; altogether he is just lovely. Oh ! here he comes playing the ' Hieland Laddie.' " 11 No more conversation then, Miss Stracey, for the present," said Wilton regretfully. Round the table half-a-dozen times the piper walked, his bag under his arm, and skilfully fingering his chanter, he played " Barren rocks of Aden," the famous tune of the 78th, and, after drinking a glass of whisky, retired to the hall to finish his programme of reels and strathspeys and the well-known " Gillie Callums." " Isn't Scotch music lively ?" exclaimed Lorna, " for such a serious nation too ? " " Yes, you are right. We Scotch certainly are a serious people," agreed Mr. Fraser, " and seldom allow that 1 A little nonsense now and then, Is relished by the wisest men.' Sydney Smith, as you know, wickedly affirmed that " A Highland Dinner" 6\ it required a surgical operation to make a Scotchman see a joke. And yet, with all their dourness, my country people have written, and still sing and play, the most charming and lively national music ; more- over, they dance splendidly, and trip a merry measure on the slightest provocation. Music and dancing seem strange amusements for a grave people, as Miss Stracey truly observes, yet rich and poor among us are passionately fond of both." 11 How does it happen the Scotch are so musical ?" asked Wilton. u You see the national airs have been preserved by private pipers. The Laird often has his own piper, who plays a march at seven in the morning to wake his master, and who walks round the dining- table after dinner as mine did to-night, or plays on the balcony in the twilight. And at a ball in the Highlands every other dance is a reel, danced by old and young to the sound of the pipes with the utmost enthusiasm and untiring energy." " Do you dance at balls, Mr. Fraser?" asked Lorna, wondering whether her own father could ever be induced to take part in a Scotch reel. 11 Yes, my lass, and our dances are no ' chandelier crawls ; ' but real dances, full of steps, so, although I am a gray-bearded old man of fifty-three, when I get to a ball and hear the pipes, I can't resist a good reel." " How do people procure pipers ? Do they engage them like servants ?" asked Lorna. 62 Wilton, Q.C. M Sometimes ; but the post of piper has often been filled by the members of one family from generation to generation. The Lords of the Isles had pipers of the same name for over a century, and the Macleods were never without one of the MacCrim- mons to pipe for them, while the Macdonalds found another famous set of players in the Mac Arthurs." " Now, Fraser, tell me something else ; I want to know the origin of the kilt," said Wilton. u The adoption of the plaid and kilt was probably due to its simplicity and cheapness," replied Mr. Fraser, who felt himself on his native heath. " The plaid is simply the unaltered and unmade-up web as it comes from the cottage loom ; even the ornamental fringe at its end, nowadays tied into tassels and fringes, is but the warp thread left in the stuff instead of being cut away. The kilt is merely a narrower web, wound round the body, and fastened at the sides by ' broches ' (French for a skewer) or safety pins. To make it easier to walk in, pleats were made in the loin cloth, and thus the modern kilt has been gradually evolved. The kilt in its original form is not peculiar to Scotland, the Roman soldiers wore kilts, and the loin cloths of all Eastern nations are wound round the body in the form of a kilt." " But the kilt is so handsome," remarked Wilton. " Undoubtedly ; nevertheless the present day orna- mented kilt is only the development of the simple " A Highland Dinner" 63 combination covering which was composed of broad and narrow web cloth." " A full Highland kilt, such as Mr. Fraser and Dr. Lempriere wear, is beautiful and most becoming/' said Lorna; adding, " why don't you always wear yours, Mr. Fraser?" " So I do in Scotland, but not south of the Tweed. English people would think I was mad if I were to don my kilt in London, I am afraid." 11 Is there any variety in the modern dress?" asked Lorna. 11 Oh, yes," answered her host ; " the tartan kilt is sometimes surmounted by a black cloth, or velvet coat, with either a waistcoat of the same or a white one. The coat buttons are often silver, and decorated with the family crest. The plaid which hangs down the back and catches into the belt on the right side is fastened to the left shoulder by a jewelled brooch, and a jewelled dirk hangs from the. waist containing a knife ahd. fork : in front the Highlander wears his goat's beard sporran, bearing the family crest in silver, while the little pouch behind it is all we have to take the place of the Englishman's dearly loved trouser pockets." 11 And the wonderful tartan stockings ? " u The stockings which stop below the knee are made of the same family tartan as the kilt, and . are often most expensive ; if handknit in silk, costing as much as a couple of guineas a pair." 64 Wilton, Q.C. " Oh ! how awful!" said Lorna; "I am glad I don't have to pay for them." " Stuck into the right hand hose we carry a 'sgian dhu ' or knife, formerly a necessity for the chase," went on Mr. Fraser. " The dress has a special charm," broke in Wilton, admiring the splendid proportions of his host, which were set off to perfection by his High- land dress, " but it must be worn by a man to the manner born, or else it is an outrage on good taste." " Many Highland gentlemen always wear a kilt," said Mr. Fraser, " but in the day time and for sport it is one generally made of tweed, and worn with a Highland bonnet or Glengarry cap. The tartan kilt and plaid are for full dress only." " And what about the wonderful shoes ? " 11 The shoes are called brogues, and have a pretty hanging fringe made from the tongue." " Why, Mr. Wilton, what are you thinking about?" enquired Lorna, noticing his rapt expression. u Come now, a penny for your thoughts." "They were rather tangled, certainly," he replied. " Thoughts are only completed in expression, and these are perhaps better left unexpressed." " But silence is rather dull, I find." " Tis wiser to think without talking, Miss Stracey, than to talk without thinking." Judging by the way everyone was getting on round the dinner-table, Jean's idea of assigning " A Highland Dinner." 65 partners by the hat trick had proved very successful, a general air of satisfaction pervaded the table, until the fried almonds arrived, so hot from the fire that the unwary burnt their mouths, and the brightest sentence disappeared in a long drawn M Oh ! " " We are on such Scotch subjects to-night, I think we must drink a Highland health," said Mr. Fraser, " just to show Miss Stracey how we do it. Pass the bottle from right to left — I'm a Highlander and full of superstition — pass the bottle as the sun goes into the firmament, or it will not shine upon you." " Please to charge your glasses," roared Hugh. M I once went to a city dinner with Wilton, and shall never forget the deep-voiced serious toast- masters repeated call, \ Please to charge your glasses ; ' or, ■ pray silence for the worshipful master/ " All present charged. To Lorna's amusement they stood up and sang lustily " For Auld Lang Syne," and when they came to the lines " And here's a hand, my trusty friend, And gie us a hand o' thine," they crossed their arms, and each took his or her neighbour's hand, till a complete chain was formed round the table. (( Slainte math dhuibh," (the Gaelic for I drink your health) said Mr. Fraser, bowing politely to Mrs. Jackson. F 66 Wilton, Q.C. u By the bye," said the doctor, " when will you be Master of your City Company, Wilton?" " Next year ; I am now First Warden." u How does it happen that you are in a City Guild, when you are not a City man ? " asked the Laird. Mr. Wilton laughed and answered, " We are only twenty on the court, and yet we comprise a Government Official, a doctor, an architect, a banker, a Lloyd's man, a judge, and some merchants. You see we administer the funds, and it is just as well to have all sorts of men among us, for the sake of their varied knowledge and experience." u But most of your funds go on dinners, don't they?" " Good heavens ! No. When we spend a guinea on eating, we spend a hundred in charity and on education. We have schools, almshouses, and pensioners to maintain, besides which we give largely to hospitals and general charities." " You surprise me, I always thought the City Companies wasted their enormous wealth on ban- quets and such like." " There never was a greater libel," said Mr. Wilton warmly. (i They make us work hard on their Court, with a dinner thrown in now and again as a reward, and to enable us to meet the liverymen of the Company. I am a Radical, as you know. I would sweep away the House of Lords, put down the Establishment of the Church, and above all give U A Highland Dinner." 67 Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, Home Rule under proper supervision ; but I have been enough behind the scenes to realize that the charity distributed through the City Companies makes them one of the bulwarks of the Constitution. " After the ladies left the dining room, conversation turned upon the amount of wine consumed in olden days. " Yes," said Mr. Fraser, in answer to some remark, " my ancestors used to get dead drunk every night and be proud of it, and even in my youth men took twice as much as they do nowadays/' " Each year I notice people drink less/' said Wilton, " and I've very good means of knowing, because I have to go to a number of public dinners. At such spreads the wines are splendid, and yet I see that many of the men just take whisky and soda, or Hock and Apollinaris." " Well, I can't say that I should care for either combination," rejoined Mr. Fraser. " I like two or three good glasses of champagne with my dinner, and none ever tastes so sweet as that first glass after a day's shoot." " I like champagne well enough, when I can get a good vintage," said Wilton. "'74, such as you gave us to-night for instance, or Pomeroy Greno '80, sweet and mellow ; but I have no fancy for being poisoned with the " tres sec " stuff one gets every- where as a rule." F 2 68 Wilton, Q.C. " i To the pure, all is pure/ as the milkman said when selling his milk to a little girl/' put in Sir Laurence. " That ' tres sec ' (or, as I please to call it, sour wine)," said Wilton, " will actually turn a piece of blue lithmus paper pink ; it is as sharp as vinegar, and not nearly so wholesome. I fancy, however, it will soon go out of fashion again." " I don't believe in any wine," put in the teetotaler, Bagshot, " I never felt so well in my life as since I gave up alcohol in every shape and took to barley water." " Chacun a son gout. If your pet tipple is barley water, stick to it. I would not, however, mention barley and honest water together in the same sentence were I you, Bagshot," suggested Sir Laurence, " if you do, sceptics may imagine you mean whisky ! " " Don't mind him," observed Mr. Fraser, seeing the little man looked rather vexed. il I can't say I care for the beverage myself, neither do I take much wine, though I like what I do take to be good. Come, Wilton, fill your glass, this is '51 port, and I can recommend it." The barrister filled his glass, scented the wine, and pronouncing its bouquet excellent, remarked — " People drink port wine after dinner a great deal more now than they did a few years back. It has quite taken the place of claret. Most men seem to think it amalgamates better with champagne." " A Highland Dinner." 69 " Certainly port is the fashion again. As I told you, I am old enough to remember the days when we never smoked after dinner, or, if we did, it was just before going to bed ; and we were banished to the kitchen or some outhouse for our weed. And now everyone drinks far less and smokes far more. All houses have a smoking room, and most men puff away after dinner as a matter of course. " " But they have always done that in my recollec- tion/' said Wilton. "Very likely; but forty years ago it was very exceptional, and only became universal about 1865, when the Prince of Wales started after-dinner smoking as a regular fashion. Cigarettes are quite a modern invention, or curse I should say ; they do an awful amount of harm to young men I think. A good cigar or a pipe, but none of the papery nicotiney cigarettes for me," said the old gentleman, puffing away at his Havannah cigar. M I say, uncle, with your leave we will join the ladies," remarked the doctor, " poor Bagshot has drunk nothing, and smoked nothing, and he's dying to get away to play his banjo — so we're off." And in a few minutes Bea Lempriere was playing an accompaniment for the little man, who was a wonderful performer on the banjo, and sang comic songs most amusingly, which is more than many people can do. Mrs. Jackson and Mr. Wilton were soon absorbed 70 Wilton, Q.C. in earnest conversation, and speaking of some mutual friend's recent marriage, the widow asked : " Are you married, Mr. Wilton ?" " I renounced matrimony years ago," was the reply, then sharply changing the subject he added, 14 How lovely those flowers are, and arranged with such exquisite taste." 44 Fancy your not being married," persisted the widow, " when there are such lots of charming girls in the world. Why there are three in this house alone ; I feel quite antiquated among them." 44 That seems hardly possible," politely. 44 Oh, but I do," she simpered. 44 Very young girls, bread-and-butter misses, are my detestation. I don't know what to say to them." 44 I thought all men liked sweet seventeen," she said. 44 I don't, anyway. I like a woman to have ideas, and to be able to talk. I am lazy, and prefer being amused to amusing others." "Well, we must see if we can amuse you; how shall we begin ?" "Anyone so capable as Mrs. Jackson will find no difficulty in amusing such as I," he said, with a little bow. When the party broke up that night, and Mrs. Jackson went to her room, she sat down and looked at herself in the glass. Cruel monster ! How it reflects our imperfections. "A Highland Dinner." 71 How, placed before a window or an altar of candles, its cold unsympathetic silver, brought in close prox- imity, shows up defects unnoticeable in a darkened room, or beneath a veil, or in the artificial light of evening. There she sat, and, putting her elbows on the table, rested her chin on her hands and gazed at the reflected face. " Yes, you were once beautiful, M she soliloquised. " Once, odious word ! How cruel are these four letters ! People said your eyes were glorious when they sparkled with youth. Where is that sparkle now ? And your lashes fringed these cheeks. Have they grown shorter or been washed away by tears ? That pouting mouth once turning upwards at the corners in a dimple, now bends downwards, and the dimple — ah ! where is it now?" Passing her hand rapidly across her brow as if in pain, the woman continued — " All girls are beautiful ; the freshness of youth is beautiful. Ah, when young it is glorious to be a woman, to have power to feel strength in its possession, as these girls in the house do ; but when we are thirty-five and youth is fading, and the serenity of age has not yet come, then — then it is vile to be a woman, and we should slip our sex. Yes, when the crows' feet come about the eyes, when the fat accumulates under the chin, then it is hideous to be a woman ! I envy those girls, " 72 Wilton, Q.C. and she rose, her face set hard, and paced up and down the room, only pausing at the sound of a footstep in the passage — Mr. Wilton passing to his room. When the clever barrister closed his door that night — " She's a deuced clever woman, that young widow/' he thought ; " but somehow I don't think she is to be trusted. I distaste her as I should a doctor's draught. She will catch herself one day in some mesh of her own weaving," and he laid his coat on the chair and proceeded to undo the tie which had caused him so much anxiety a few hours before. Somehow the subject of Mrs. Jackson recurred to him, as subjects will sometimes in an unaccount- able way. " She's uncommonly like " — he soliloquised, " but no, of course not — still — there is a likeness. Only a coincidence of course ; but an annoying one never- theless." How the skeleton in the cupboard walks out and grins at us — jeers and wrangles us when least expected ! CHAPTER IV. SABBATH KIRK. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, on which everyone w r as expected to go to kirk. As a matter of fact everyone did. The station 'bus came round at 12.30, and the whole party scrambled in, with the exception of two men who preferred to walk. " What a dreadful hour/' Lorna remarked to Sir Laurence, looking fearfully respectable in his Sunday garb. " Well, you see they have a couple of hours Gaelic devotion first, and the English service begins directly afterwards, as many of the country folk like to attend both." " What ? Four hours church, right on end ! " " Yes, they like it. Many of these people walk eight or ten miles to Kirk, and, as you will see, they generally wear black. Some of the shepherds have top hats, and all carry quite a small library of Bibles and Psalm books. But certainly it is a very inconvenient hour ; one cannot well wait for luncheon until half-past three o'clock, so most people adopt 74 Wilton, Q.C. the same plan as the Frasers, and have sandwiches on the table at twelve, and a substantial meal, a kind of tea, when they get back, which carries starving humanity on till dinner.' ' Mrs. Jackson looked particularly charming that morning in the most bewitching of little French bonnets, at least so thought the Laird, and he told her as much. M How sweet of you," she replied ; but you are always so kind and thoughtful, dear Mr. Fraser," and she looked at him in such a way the old gentle- man was half sorry he had spoken. u What a very charming man your friend Mr. Wilton is," she went on. " Yes ; he is a very good fellow." " So clever and so big, and I do love big men ; " she added, smiling upon her host, who was quite above the average height of his sex. " Do you know," she continued, " the only fault I could ever find with my poor dear husband was that he was not quite big enough," and she held out her gloved hand for Mr. Fraser to button for her. " No, Jackson wasn't very tall. Dear me, how time flies, fancy, I must have known your husband twenty years ago ; almost before you were born." 11 He was devoted to you, Mr. Fraser. Always spoke of you most affectionately, and longed for an opportunity of introducing me. How lucky it was our meeting at Cowes, and how pleased the Sabbath Kirk. 75 dear fellow would be could he only know I am staying in the old house he loved so well." " Very kind of you to say so, Mrs. Jackson," and the Laird really felt quite sorry for the poor little lonely widow, whose husband had been such a chum of his for many a long year. Wilton, whether by accident or intent, sat next to Lorna in the 'bus. Her manner fascinated him, and he felt, almost without realising the fact himself, she was the nicest girl he had seen for a long time, and that somehow he preferred to tajk to her rather than to any other member of the party. They chatted away pleasantly while driving to church, with the result that he came to the conclu- sion she was not only handsome and charming, but thoroughly sensible as well. If during the service his thoughts wandered to Lorna Stracey, as Galileo's wandered to perpetual motion while watching the slow swing of the handsome bronze lamp in the famous Church at Pisa — well, it could scarcely be imputed to him as a sin. Lorna was much interested in the Kirk. First of all she noticed that the table in the doorway as they entered, strictly guarded by two of the elders of the Kirk, was spread with a white cloth, on which stood a plate thickly strewn with pence. The bare simplicity of the building struck her as strange, and never in her life before had she sat in a pew as big as a room, with a large table in the 76 Wilton, Q.C. middle, on which lay psalm books and Bibles, while her friends ranged themselves on benches round the pew walls. To her great astonishment also everyone sat down to sing, and stood up to pray, and found their places in their Bibles, and when it came to turning over a page, there was quite a rustle through the whole church — but there was no organ ; the Precentor, who occupied a little box below the pulpit, starting the village choir with the assistance of his tuning fork! About half-way through the service there chanced to be an ordination of elders of the Kirk, which quite bewildered Lorna, who at first thought it was part of the ordinary service. In the middle of the ceremonial three men went forward to the minister, and in the face of the congregation were publicly examined concerning their faith. To all the questions of belief, they unhesitatingly answered " Yes." After this catechism was finished, the minister gave them a long lecture on their duties and respon- sibilities, during which the new elders stood humbly beneath the pulpit. After the address was over, they sat down on a bench in the middle of the Church, specially placed there for them, and the ordinary service proceeded. But this was not all. As soon as he had finished his final prayer, the minister descended from his pulpit in order to " extend the right hand of fellowship u to his new Sabbath Kirk. 77 helpers ; the other elders also, sallying forth from their roomy pew, did likewise, and thus a wonderful amount of good old handshaking was gone through, the congregation standing all the while. It was an impressive ceremony, but Lorna, unaccustomed to such proceedings, felt that it must have been an awful ordeal to the new elders themselves. After leaving the kirk the girl naturally sought her host, who she knew would tell her what the scene she had just witnessed meant, who the elders were, and the nature of the duties they were supposed to discharge. Delighted to impart information concerning the customs of his native land, which he so dearly loved, Mr Fraser explained — " An elder exercises the duties of a minor curate, and at the same time possesses more authority than a churchwarden. No elders have been chosen at our little church for some years, so that the original number of seven has dwindled down to four." u But what do they do ? " persisted Lorna. " These elders have permission to lecture, are supposed to visit the sick, attend to the charities, and generally help the minister. They are most carefully elected by the congregation for the good- ness of their lives and excellence of their character. Every minister in Scotland is also chosen by the congregations. There are no livings given here ; the applicants must come and preach a ' trial 78 Wilton, Q.C. sermon,' and after the congregation has heard several, dozens sometimes, they put it to the vote to select their ' meenister,' and the squabbles over that election are sometimes quite amusing. One liked one sermon best and another another, and so on." " Have you had a new minister here lately ? V " No, not for five or six years ; and they were nearly two years before they decided on this one ; during all that time the kirk was draped in black. " " Draped in black ! » " Yes, out of respect for the late minister; the black put up for a minister's funeral sermon is never taken down till his successor is nominated." " This man knows Gaelic ? " " Of course. They all know Gaelic, or as they pronounce it f Gaalic' The fine old Keltic language is fast dying out since English has become compulsory in the schools, but there are still lots of old people who know no other tongue, and all over the High- lands there are usually far more attendants for the Gaelic service than the English." Mrs. Jackson made several attempts to interest her host in another channel ; but Highland customs lay so near his heart that even the wiles of the widow could not turn the conversation, but thinking to please him she said : " These Highlanders are all so good they are sure to go to heaven." Sabbath Kirk. 79 " That reminds me," he said. u A lad asked his minister ( What is heaven ? f ' Heaven, my lad/ replied the pastor, ' is where congregations ne'er break up, and Sabbaths have no end/ ( Then I'm nae for it ! ' was the reply, and the lad marched off." " I agree with that boy," said Wilton, " I am rather given to mistrust those who practise outwardly too much religion. By the bye, did you hear the story of one of our actors. One Sunday, wearied to death with the rain and the psalm singing, he entered the smoking room of his hotel. It was full of Scotchmen, with Sabbatarian faces. ' What do you think of a game of poker ? ' he said. They gazed at him aghast for a moment, and then one of them murmured, ' You'll be driven out o' the toun ! ! ( Oh ! ' replied the actor cheerfully, ' I don't play cards myself, gentlemen ; but I thought you might like a game, you look so deadly bored.' " " Really Wilton," laughed Mr. Fraser, " you are too bad ; but it is an excellent story. Thank heaven, I am not so Scotch that I cannot appreciate a joke against my nation." " No, indeed, you are delightful in that way," put in the widow; "and Mr. Wilton has such an impressive way of telling stories; they sound even more amusing than they really are. I love a good story, don't you, Mr. Fraser?" " Certainly — when it is well told." . 8o Wilton, Q.C. " Now, Mr. Wilton, what an invitation ! surely quite irresistible, " said the widow. " Unfortunately, Mrs. Jackson, it is as impossible to tell a story when asked, as it is to be ' nice or funny ; ) the mere request for any of these accomplishments drying up the stream almost before it has flowed.' ' " What a very long sermon we had. Is it always so long?" asked Lorna, ever in search of informa- tion, and at the same time anxious to turn a conversation drifting somewhat unpleasantly. " Yes — generally half the service at least consists of the sermon," said Mr. Fraser, " which is the great event of the ordinary Sunday service, and, as the folk leave the kirk, they all discuss it. l) Deed we hev been heving a stirring time with the meenister/ is the greatest compliment they can pay a preacher. They like to be well shaken over the jaws of hell." " I don't think he read his sermon as our clergy- men do, did he ?" " No — a minister must preach extemporary if possible. The congregation cannot bear * the paper/ even for prayers, which the minister is supposed to utter fresh from his l heart ' at every service." " And does everyone eat peppermint during the time of public worship ? The kirk was so hot, that the atmosphere became overpowering." " Peppermint is rather fashionable," laughed Mr. Fraser. " I saw you had great difficulty in finding the paraphrases." Sabbath Kirk. 81 " I could not get along at all till you sent me that book," confessed Lorna. " The service is quite different from ours. And fancy dogs attending church ! " " Our churches are not consecrated, and, there- fore, people talk and even hold public meetings and entertainments when ' the kirk ! is not wanted for service. No one considers the presence of the dogs an irreverence, and I don't know that it is. They come miles with their masters to the service, and, as you saw, sleep all the time till the minister rises to pronounce the benediction with outstretched hands. Then they wake up, shake themselves and calmly make for the door, knowing full well it is time to start home for dinner." " How do they know when to awake ? " 11 That I cannot tell. Every Sunday regularly, however, they do get up and go out during the benediction, just as they did to-day." All this sounded strange to the London girl, who asked Sir Laurence, on the way home, why the churches were not consecrated ? "An old woman," answered the baronet, " said to me, when I once asked her why they were not consecrated, ' Consecrated indeed ! Did not our Master preach out of a herring-smack on the lake of Galilee ? No, we want no consecration, or any such like ! ' " " Dear me," sighed Lorna; "and oh! Sir G 82 Wilton, Q.C. Laurence, do tell me why there is no organ in the kirk?" " I once put the same question to a gillie myself (for you know I am a southerner, although I own a Scottish shooting), and he replied, 'An organ? Nay, nay, we micht as weel hae the deevil in the kirk as an organ, whateffer ! ' I persisted that music was beautiful, and an organ a great addition to the service, but my words failed to produce the slightest effect. " " Eh ! mon, she's just a kist o' whustles then ! " retorted my gillie. Even a " kist o' whustles " Lorna thought would be preferable to the unmusical tones of the precentor and his tuning-fork, accompanied by the village choir ; but no doubt that was English prejudice. " This is what you call the Free Kirk, is it not ? ,? asked the girl. " Yes," replied Sir Lawrence. " Then what is the difference between it and the Established Kirk?" " There is not much difference, as far as I can see ; but the same old woman who floored me about that matter of consecration was of opinion that ' the one is the Kirk of God and the other is just the Kirk of the Parliament,' so there you are." " Why, Mr. Eraser," exclaimed Wilton, as the 'bus drew up in front of The Hirsell, "you have told us so many things, and given us so much to Sabbath Kirk. 83 think over, that I feel that I have had quite another sermon. I had not realised before how widely the Scotch Free Kirk differs from the Established English Church." H Do you take much interest in these things your- self ?" asked the host. " Certainly. Who is not interested in theology after studying the writings of men of such diver- gence of opinion as Newman, Stanley, Spencer, Renan, or Emerson ? I have dived into theosophy, guided by Sinnet; and been bewildered by the extravagances of Blavatsky ; I have admired Budd- hism through the poems of Sir Edwin Arnold or the graver works of Max Miiller ; I have dreamed queer dreams of heaven and hell with Swedenborg; I have peeped into many religions and many philosophies, and though I hold no particular creed, nevertheless I believe in a holy life, as preached in the ethics of Christ." " Fancy your taking so much interest in religion," remarked Mrs. Jackson. " I should have thought you were too busy with the law to have time for any- thing else ; what a wonderful man you are." " Not at all. Everyone has time to do anything he wants," replied the lawyer, " the busier he is the more method he requires and consequently the more he can accomplish." " Oh dear, oh dear, I wish I was like that," prettily sighed the widow, turning to Mr. Fraser, G 2 84 Wilton, Q.C. and asking if he would take her for a turn on the terrace. " Delighted. " He opened the French window and they stepped out together. " Dear Mr. Fraser, I want your advice/' " Any advice I can give is quite at your service." M You were such an intimate friend of my dear husband's, I feel I may speak to you frankly on rather a delicate subject — besides you are so kind." The Laird bowed. " My position, Mr. Fraser," she continued, " is a sad one. I have lost my poor husband ; I have lost much of my income, and I am very lonely." She really looked wretched. 14 You, dear Mr. Fraser, have lost your wife, and must often have felt the same loneliness that I do, although you have a daughter to cheer you — a dear, sweet girl, too. I have no one — no one." Mr. Fraser wondered what was coming next. Somehow he felt a little uneasy. " My position is this," continued the widow, pluck- ing a purple clematis as they passed. " I long for love and sympathy — not the sympathy of a stranger, but the sympathy and love of a husband. Do you, dear Mr. Fraser, think it would be very, very wrong of me if I married again ? " " Certainly not, when you meet a man you care for sufficiently." 11 Ah ! that is just it, I have heaps of offers ; Sabbath Kirk. 85 men are so foolish — actually so foolish as to fall in love with poor little me," and she smiled prettily, M but — I don't love any of them." " Better leave it alone, then, I should say," remarked the Laird, feeling somewhat relieved. " Well, you see, there is one man, enormously rich, an awfully good fellow, and all that sort of thing, who proposes regularly about once a month. Now do you think I should accept him ? " fl I can hardly answer that question. It is purely one for your own heart to decide, Mrs. Jackson." 11 He is all that is desirable, you see, from the world's point of view. Now shall I marry him ? " " Exactly as you like, Mrs. Jackson ; you say you feel so lonely " " Ah ! but I doubt whether he would give me the sympathy my heart longs for." u He can give you a charming home, you say ? " " Oh, yes ; all that sort of thing — but " " Perhaps you like someone else better ? " the old gentleman suggested. A pause. Looking down at the clematis, and picking it petal from petal, she sighed, and then slowly raising her eyes to his, Mrs. Jackson murmured, u Perhaps I do." She had more craft than cleverness. When tea was over on that Sunday afternoon, §6 Wilton, Q.C. the party dispersed each to work his own sweet will. Some who did not mind the heat went for a long walk, others got rugs and books, and lounged in the hay, which was not yet carried. Others retired to their rooms to write letters — a common excuse among people in polite society for an afternoon nap. Wilton asked Lorna if she would come and eat gooseberries in the garden. u Gooseberries always remind me of my youth, " he observed, " and they are delicious off the bushes when one has pricked one's fingers in getting them. I don't suppose that strawberries here are over either." " No ; we had some a day or two ago." " Then pray let us enjoy those luxuries, unattain- able weeks ago in the south." Lorna, nothing loth, consented to go and gather gooseberries. As they descended the steps of the porch, four lovely collies were basking in the sun, waiting for their master. As their master did not appear they were good enough to follow Wilton and his com- panion as far as an old-fashioned iron gate in the high garden wall, and when told to go home trotted off in the most obedient manner, again to bask in the sun by the hall door. As Lorna passed through the gate into the garden she said, laughingly, to Wilton, " You have got quite a pretty tie to-day. You must never Sabbath Kirk. 87 wear that dreadful legal black satin thing again, it makes me feel quite sad to look at it." The grave lawyer really smiled at the girl's chaffing remark, and looked ten years younger as he asked, 11 Anything else, Miss Stracey ? M "Yes, many things," she answered; "I do not like to see jewellery on a man; if you care. to know my tastes," she added, with a faint smile, " it always seems to me womanish." He did not answer; he only slipped the signet ring off his finger and consigned it, in company with his watch and chain, to the depths of an inside pocket. Then he said : " There, little tease, are you satisfied ?" <( Yes, for a moment ; but my sex is never satis- fied for long." The barrister bowed. " That is the charm of your sex. Waywardness in a woman is as commendable as steadfastness in a man. Women are to me interesting problems." Lorna opened her big eyes and looked at him. " Don't talk about me as a problem, please. It sounds, dry, horrid, and uninteresting. I hated problems at school." " I think you are mischievous now, miss, to tease such an old fogey as I am." " You are not old." " Double your age." 88 Wilton, Q.C. 11 That's nothing for a man. It is only women who must never get old. For when they do all their attractions vanish. " " That is severe." " It's only what I have heard men say. So I suppose when we get old your sex don't care much about us. I like old men." 11 How nice of you to say so." " Don't flatter yourself. I only said what was true generally speaking," and away she tripped in front of him. " Women are strange creatures," he thought ; " they are either better or worse than men, generally the former ; but equals never." It was a delightful garden, with beautiful two-feet high box hedges bordering the paths, and old- fashioned hollyhocks, sunflowers, scented sweet briar, yellow-eyed daisies, variegated poppies, larkspur, and marigolds, were each struggling for supremacy in the pretty tangled beds. Beautiful white tobacco plants, also in full bloom, stood out in bold relief against the high wall, interspersed with moss and lichen, and covered with fruit. As they passed through the Dutch garden, with its straight walks, where the tulips and sweet scented hyacinths were over, they stopped to look at the old sun-dial, amid evenly planted trees, more prim and stately than the dear old English garden with its tangled blooms and sweet scents. Sabbath Kirk. 89 How serenely peaceful the place seemed. Not a breath of wind stirred the leaves ; all was quiet save the hum of insects, or the occasional twitter of a bird. Lorna watched a couple of butterflies fluttering round the flowers ; in and out of the larkspur, the lovely speedwell, or the St. John's wort they played, finally settling on the " Thistle so true," emblematic of Scotland, standing majestically several feet high. " I see you are interested in the moths ; they are 1 Chesias Spartiaria] commonly called the ' Streak/ There must be broom hereabouts, as I believe it is their common food." " How do you know all that, Mr. Wilton ? You seem to know everything." . " Oh dear, no; M he laughed, " but, like all boys, I collected stamps and moths, and having a good memory I still know the names of a few. There are not many of the pretty varieties in Scotland, if I remember rightly, such as the ( cream spotted tiger/ or the • ruby tiger/ or even the pretty { green and red six-spotted burnet.' Like you, I think the butterflies and moths add to the picturesqueness of the scene, although they are not so useful as the occupants of that hive on our right. Still the butter- fly represents a distinct phase of life. The world is comprised of its ' cream spotted tigers/ and its' busy drones, and I often see a likeness in people I meet, to the insect world. I am one of the drones." po Wilton, Q.C. " This is just the garden for bees, isn't it?" ex- claimed Lorna, " all flowers and scents. Do you know Bea Lempriere often reminds me of her name- sakes, the bees. Her mind is so picturesque ; lovely flowers and sweet scents suit her, she always sees the beautiful in everything and everyone ; moreover, she has all the industry of a little busy bee, and is just as sweet." . " Well done — you are quite an advocate, and such praise from you is praise indeed, Miss Stracey." " I love a sundial," cried Lorna, as she paused by the old stone pillar, " it looks so at home in a sweet old-fashioned garden like this. Don't you think so ? " " Yes, sometimes. I like the peaceful existence it suggests — a reminder of days when ' time passed un- heeded in its flight.' This nineteenth century existence is one continuous journey. No sooner is one end attained than another has to be commenced. And so, on and on, to the end of life." " Why do you always talk in such a sad way, Mr. Wilton? It hurts me." "Why?" he repeated, looking at her curiously, " because — because age gives us a greater faculty for mental suffering, while it blunts our suscepta- bilities to trifles. Because — well, you see, my life has always been so different from yours, it is impos- sible you can understand me. My father died when I was very young, and my mother followed him soon Sabbath Kirk. 91 after I went to the University, then there was no one left who cared a jot what became of me. I had a few hundreds a year, just enough to live on, just enough to ruin my life, as a bare competence has ruined life for many another man. After a while, my mother's voice seemed to be always saying to me, ' This idleness is wrong, it is wicked, you must work, you must not throw away the abilities God has given you, and that I so tenderly fostered. Be up and doing, your mother wishes it/ Women rule the world for good or ill, and, thank God, generally for good. We men would be but poor creatures without the gentle, inspiring influence of women." " A pretty compliment to my sex," said Lorna, the colour rising to her cheeks as she stooped down to pick a little pink rose and a handful of sweet peas. " A thoroughly deserved one," he returned. " Well, I did as my mother bade me. I worked ; I passed my finals. I went to the Bar, and I worked even harder than before. My life has been nearly all work and no play, that is perhaps why I am cross and sour. My club, my chambers, the law courts, and again the same round ! That has been my life, with a dinner party now and then thrown in as a variety. I had no time to make friends, and, alas ! no mother, no sister, or cousin has taken me in hand and shaken the cynic and the misanthrope out of me, which my life was building up year by year." " And you never married ? " 92 Wilton, Q.C. " Business leaves no time for matrimony, " he replied. H Business must Necessarily be devoid of sentiment inside the office, and my life had little time outside ; but you will say I am a cynic and sarcastic." " I think sarcasm shows want of appreciation of the beautiful," she replied quietly. " Perhaps I have never had time to find the beautiful," M Yet you seem to enjoy a holiday." " Yes, indeed, no one enjoys idleness more than the man suffering from brain fatigue. I have worked too hard continuously. Before leaving town I became a martyr to torturing headaches." 11 But you can have them cured. You should go and see a doctor." " I went to consult one of the greatest big-wigs on the brain." " Did he tell you to rest?" asked the girl, with sympathetic upturned eyes. " Yes — rest, rest, rest. His diagnosis was gloomy enough. If I ( hoped to keep my health I must take a protracted rest/ ' Such exhausted brains breed hysteria in women/ he said, ' and take the morbid vein in men/ It matters very little now, however," continued Wilton, drawing patterns on the gravel walk with his stick, while the sunbeams played at hide-and-seek among the little pebbles, " I have had enough of the foolish hopes that make the Sabbath Kirk. 93 disappointments of life to enable me to realise the unprofitableness of existence — an existence we do not make for ourselves, or we should have cast it differently; but," he went on dreamily, " my life belongs to myself, and no one cares what I make of it. When it ends I have no fear of death. Un- solicited on my part I was given life. Without warning I shall be called away. I have lived my life, enjoyed it, maybe, somewhat marred it. I have worked for my own ends — perhaps helped others a little ; but I realise the fact that, when I die, I shall not be missed — that dozens of others are ready to take my place, to fill it more ably than I; for have they not seen wherein I failed ? " " But death seems so awful ! Have you really no fear?" asked Lorna, half shocked at his tone. " None. I would die to-morrow willingly. Death holds no terrors for me. Why should it?" " I think it is very wicked to talk like that." " No, child, it is not wicked — it is fact. Why was I born ? I often ask myself. I give neither pleasure nor pain to anyone, and take up a place that might have been more ably filled by someone else. For what end do I work ? I have enough to live on without it. I have no longer ambition. Why do people dread death as if it were a nightmare ? It is inevitable, yet few allow themselves to ponder over it. No — I am not afraid to die. Why should I be ? I have done no one any injury, and to some 94 Wilton, Q.C. I have done good ; for I hold the only solace to existence is work, and the inestimable joy of doing a kindness — of helping a struggling friend." " I like to hear you say that," the girl said. " To give gracefully requires as much tact as to receive graciously. But don't talk of dying again, Mr. Wilton. I don't like to hear it." " Very well, child, I will not; but remember, if anything unexpected happen to me, I have no fear of death, and, although I belong to no sect, I have some religion about me still. M Come," he added, with a forced laugh, rising suddenly from his seat, " we have forgotten our errand, and I have been boring you. Come, let us go and gather goose- berries. Let us play at being boy and girl together, you and I ! " CHAPTER V. BLACKCOCK. " Well, Donald, " asked the hostess, speaking to the old keeper, " what sort of day are we going to have ? " " A vary fine dee, me leddy, and we'll meet ye a' the burn at twa." Mr. Wilton forgot something when starting and turned back to fetch it, much to poor Donald's distress, for he held the common superstition that turning back after leaving home for the day means dire ill luck. The lawyer laughed at his concern, but Donald did not waver in his belief, and kept repeating, " You ken jist say what ye like, but I know." 11 If I ever wrote a book," said Mrs. Jackson, M I should take that man for one of my characters. " " What sort of a book would you write?" asked Lance Wilton, amused. "It should catch the public taste by overstepping all propriety. The more daring a book is the better people like it. Fame and money follow in proportion to the immorality." g6 Wilton, Q.C. " I don't like to hear you say that, although I'm afraid it is only too true. We should shut such things away from our young folk, familiarity so often produces tolerance." " Oh, but simple stories are so deadly dull ! M " Yes — to people who find simple lives deadly dull. I am beginning to prefer both " " Are you really ? u and the widow stared at him. " I prefer honest, straightforward girls, all fun and larks, such as Miss Fraser and her friends, to those knowing minxes in modern novels/' 11 Indeed ! " After much doffing of caps on the part of the men, and many kindly words from the women, the party started, the ladies returning to their letters, their music, or their work, until it was time to start for the hill. Mrs. Jackson pleaded a headache, and added, " I have my frills and chiffons to see to, so please excuse me to-day, Jean dear." " What is she always doing with frills and chiffons?" whispered Bea to Jean, as she passed her arm through her cousin's. " I don't know, but you see she has no maid now, and all these wonderful garments she puts on every day must require a great deal of unpacking and packing, no doubt." Mrs. Jackson was one of those people who noticed a wrinkle in a bodice as quickly as Mr. Fraser Blackcock. 97 discovered that a horse had not been properly groomed. Once the twelfth of August is passed, the sportsman has much diversified game to attract his gun. A week from that date blackcock shooting begins, and soon after deer stalking and partridges. The first day of blackcock shooting is August 20th, so, of course, it was arranged overnight that the party at The Hirsel should on the morrow leave the grouse in order to follow the black game. It was a fine day, quite a contrast to the Twelfth, and everyone appeared in the best of spirits. About ten o'clock a waggonette came to the door, into which the gentlemen jumped, with their mackintoshes, guns, cartridges, and other shooting impedimenta, while the dogcart which followed behind contained the gillies and the dogs just up from the kennels. When the ladies stood in the porch wishing them a good day, Lorna could not help thinking how much better men look in tweeds and knickerbockers than they do in their terrible swallow-tails, or even in ordinary black coats. There were some wonderful checks among the suits, but the stockings certainly presented the greatest variety, some of them knitted to represent plaids being strikingly pretty, " but/' she mentally decided, " a man must have big calves and small ankles, else he never can look well in knickerbockers, poor fellow ! n H 98 Wilton, Q.C. One o' clock came at last, and with it the omnibus, to the top of which Jean, Bea, and Lorna. clambered,- while into the inside of that useful vehicle the luncheon hampers and bottle cases were carefully packed, with an ample supply of rugs. The three girls were very jolly and happy, and chatted away pleasantly as they sped smoothly along the well-made road, flanked with pine trees or heather. Now and again a little bunny would run out from under the bracken and scamper across their path, or a few young pheasants would trot along in front of them. Bluebells nodded their pretty heads, and yellow daisies swayed to and fro in the cornfields, where blue cornflowers were beginning to peep up among the green corn, rapidly turning yellow in the sunlight. Here and there they passed a croft, whitewashed and thatched in true Highland fashion, and invari- ably saw placed against the walls a wooden triangle, from which were suspended sand eels or herrings, to cure in the sun's rays. Every croft had its fish larder outside in this fashion, the triangle playing as important a part in the household economy as the kettle itself. Barefooted bairns played among the chickens, the pigs, and the calves, gathering strength from the fresh air and their simple surroundings against the day when they should be old enough to go to that hideous blot on our nineteenth century buildings — the village school-house. Modern Scotch Blackcock. 99 architecture, indeed, is nearly always an eyesore amid its beautiful surroundings. The old white- washed croft has a thatched roof, often moss and lichen-grown and prettily coloured ; the Scotch castle has a certain fine solidity to recommend it ; but the modern stone school-house and the four and eight-roomed houses that are springing up all over Scotland are simply ghastly. Straight, hard lines of gray and yellow stone, gray slate roofs without one redeeming point, not even a bit of ivy to cover their nakedness, there they stand, each year unfortunately adding to their number, alas ! without the slightest attempt to make them more picturesque. Oh ! for a Swiss chalet, a Bavarian u bauer haus," a Norwegian " saeter," or a Thames valley cottage amid such worthy surroundings. As they left the lodge gates, Lorna, who was sitting beside Jean on the box, asked her what that handsome windowless house was she had noticed on the first day of her arrival. M Why that is our mausoleum." " What a funny, or, rather, what a lugubrious idea." Lorna did not yet know that the family vault is often built close to the lodge-gate in Scotland, and therefore must be passed every time relations and guests leave the grounds. There is apparently among the Scotch no desire to get away from such morbid associations. If there be a loch with an island on the property, the latter is almost always H 2 ioo Wilton, Q.C. given up to the dead. The transport of a coffin in a boat to the lonely grave is most impressive, and, once seen, lingers long in the remembrance. Death possesses strange attractions for a Scotch- man. Funeral services are generally held at the house, where indeed marriages are also solemnised and children baptised. The Scotch have many fashions different from our own, and long may they adhere to them, for it is very refreshing to find that there are several ways of performing the same thing with an equally good result. We are all too apt to think that our way is the only way in everything. " We do lots of funny things in the Highlands/' explained Jean, who was almost as much devoted to old customs as her father. " When anyone dies the peasants hold a wake for three days and nights, during which period the mourners thoroughly enjoy themselves, sitting with the body, both as a mark of respect to the dear departed, and to prevent the corpse being carried away by the fairies. " " Have you ever seen a wake ? " "Yes, I have; the wife of Donald the keeper. The body was laid out on a board kept by the family for that purpose, supported on two chairs and placed immediately under the kitchen window, with the head next the door. On the chest a saucer of salt was placed, and round the body lighted candles were set at certain intervals to keep away evil spirits." Blackcock. 101 " What sort of room was it ? " asked Lorna, keenly interested. " Only a very humble kitchen ; but they turned the pictures with their faces to the wall, and the old dresser was covered with a white sheet, and all the Bibles that could be collected together were laid on it." " How very awful it all sounds/' said Lorna, aghast. " The most dreadful part of the whole business was that visitors were expected to touch the cold fore- head of the corpse with their fingers. Should anyone omit this ceremony, which, however, no one ever would dare to do, that irreverent person would certainly see the deceased's ghost." 11 And did you really touch the corpse ? " asked Lorna, with a shudder. " Of course I did, and took off my glove, too, when I found it was the proper thing to do, although it gave me the creeps. I wouldn't willingly hurt anyone's feelings." " It was awfully good of you," said Lorna. <( The people have another curious superstition, which is that if the corpse does not stiffen at once another death will follow very shortly." u Do many people come to these wakes ? " " From far and near friends come to pay their respects to the dead. They read verses from the Scriptures in turns, or talk over the virtues of the 102 Wilton, Q.C. deceased, and drink whisky continually. Daddy says that the ceremonies for the dead among our lower orders are almost identical with those of Ireland or Norway. They hold a wake just as they did in the old Catholic days, although the people themselves would be horrified if they thought their puritanical religion in any way resembled Popery, which they so cordially hate." "How long does the wake last?" asked the amazed Lorna. " On the third day the funeral service is read in the house by the minister, and the coffin is then borne away on the shoulders of the male relations and friends to the churchyard. The sad cortege is followed by the male inhabitants of the whole village, who stand by in silence while the coffin is lowered into the grave. Not a word is spoken. The. only evidence of sympathy and respect is lifting the cap, or top hat." " I don't think I like the idea/' said Lorna, " though such ceremonies, I suppose, are very impressive. What a lot of money all that drinking and feasting must cost ! " ■■ The peasantry hoard their money to pay for the whisky and whatever other things are considered necessary at a ' respectable funeral/ and will often starve and deny themselves during life to be prepared with means sufficient to pay for a grand wake after their death. All the old women I know Blackcock. 103 treasure up their best white linen to be buried in, and have their grave clothes regularly washed and aired ' agen the day.' " ■■ Do you know, Lorna," chimed in Bea, " a man was arranging all about his funeral, and had settled every detail he could think of, when he exclaimed, \ Aich, naething '11 be right when I'm no' there myser ! ' " U A 'respectable funeral' is generally gauged by the amount of whisky supplied," explained Jean. " Two rounds before leaving the house is very general ; then a couple of men with bottles walk in front of the cortege, so that if anyone join the procession en route he can be refreshed with a glass. As he certainly cannot drink alone, the others join in, and it is no uncommon thing for a ' dram ' to be taken at the grave itself." " How shocking ! " exclaimed Miss Stracey. " Our peasantry declare that they always know when there will be a death," continued Jean, who was fond of talking of old world fancies; " because, if the tallow of the candle turns over the flame, a winding-sheet will soon be needed. There is still a strong belief in the candle that heralds death. A brilliant meteor passing across the heavens, leaving a lustrous trail behind it, commonly called a \ candle/ is supposed to indicate a house where a death will take place, and goes slowly along the route that the funeral cortege must take, and 104 Wilton, Q.C. does not stop till it reaches the burial-ground. Those who reside near burial-grounds are accustomed to see these candles." In some parts of the Highlands the bed, usually made of straw, on which a person has died, is carried the day after the funeral to some adjacent hillock, or 11 knap," and there is burnt till naught remains. This is an old superstition to get rid of evil spirits, but it is such a very sanitary one, that we can only hope it may be long retained. Most superstitions only do harm, and make people nervous and unhappy, so that when one comes across any with a practical common-sense meaning, it is all the more welcome. " Is Mr. Wilton a very funny man ? " suddenly asked Lorna after a pause. 11 Funny — no, I don't think he is a bit funny;" answered Miss Fraser, " rather the other way ; grave, and perhaps sad. Do you know, Lorna, I always fancy there must have been some wonderful romance in his life." M What makes you think so ? " " Well, you see, he is forty, and not married, and I'm sure that under that legal cloak of his, he carries a very romantic nature. I think he must have been madly in love with someone, who perhaps wouldn't have him, or who may have died. Oh, no, I don't think she died ; " the girl rattled on, u he got a letter to-day in a woman's handwriting, Blackcock. 1 05 and he put it straight into his pocket, and only opened the others. " " How do you know ? " " I know because I unlocked the mail-bag and handed the letters to him. Do you like him, Lorna?" " I think I do ; but he is so strange. Perhaps you are right and that he is in love with someone. Yes, I like him on the whole." II But don't you think there is something strange about him, Lorna? ,J continued Jean. II I don't know that I have ever thought much about the matter — he is certainly not like anyone I ever met before. What made you notice that letter, Jean?" " It was the first one I took from the bag, and w r as such a dainty little coloured note, and so strongly perfumed, I wondered who my correspondent could be. Before I recognised Mr. Wilton's name I noticed it was in a woman's handwriting. That would have been nothing ; but when I handed it to him he looked so unmistakeably annoyed that I was surprised, and his putting it into his pocket at once and calmly reading his other letters without opening it impressed me very much." il It was strange," rejoined Lorna, and the party chatted away on other subjects. Half an hour's drive brought the three girls to the trysting ground, where, beside a bright little io6 Wilton, Q.C. stream, they laid luncheon. The day was beautiful, fine, and dry ; there was great elasticity in the green moss on which they spread the rugs which served for seats. On the right rose a great rocky mountain, up whose steep sides they were one day to climb after deer. On the left there stretched undulating heather land, and before them the pine wood, through which the black game were being driven. It was a pretty scene. The girls were suitably dressed in serviceable tweeds. They wore gaiters over their thick boots, and any unprejudiced onlooker must have decided that a well-made shooting costume was really becoming. The very simplicity of the style tells, and a woman who is good looking, or who possesses a good figure, shows to quite as much advantage in her tweeds as she does in her habit. Jean looked particularly charming in one of the brown tweeds, heather-dyed, made by her little crofter. She had a short kilt, a regular kilted skirt, which, although it hung quite close to her figure, proved voluminous when required. It only reached a few inches below the knee, where it overlapped her knicker- bockers, which in their turn joined her box-cloth gaiters. " No petticoats for the moors, remember/' she said to Lorna, when explaining the costumes she was to order. " Knickerbockers, loose and warm, and confined at the knee by a band, where they meet the Blackcock. 107 gaiters. Knickerbockers allow a freedom of gait no other garment can give. And mind, Lorna, good strong boots are all important. Thin boots mean bad colds, and bad colds mean no fun. So away, Miss Lorna, with dainty silken hose and daintier shoes. Woollen stockings and thick, wide-soled boots are the proper things to wear in the Highlands." Jean practised what she preached, and the little woman looked splendid in her brown Norfolk jacket, with its leather shoulder pieces, her soft hunting tie, and her deer-stalker cap, stuck all over with flies. " You are late," the men exclaimed in one breath as the ladies arrived. " Are we ? I'm awfully sorry. Are you all starving?" asked the hostess, quite distressed at the idea of having kept her guests waiting. " Starving, famished, longing to see the ladies — and the luncheon," cried Sir Laurence. " Come along, then, and help me unpack. Mr. Wilton, perhaps you will assist Miss Stracey with the other hamper? " " Certainly, with pleasure," replied Wilton, charmed to be asked to do anything that brought him near Lorna. The first hamper was handed to Jean, the second case, with whisky, claret, and soda-water, was passed over to Mr. Fraser as usual, but the third hamper could not be found. " It is in the 'bus," said Jean, " look again, io8 . Wilton, Q.C. Donald. " Donald looked again, and everyone in turn looked again, but no one found the hamper. There was a pleasant state of affairs ! Lots of drinkables and tumblers, plates and dishes — but no food. " Well, Jean, you're a nice person," laughed Mr. Fraser, " where's our luncheon ? " " I say, Miss Fraser, we're all starving," re- marked Bagshot. 11 Never was so hungry in my life," said the Captain. "Jean, I'll die if I don't get something soon," put in the doctor. And although she knew they were only chaffing, poor Jean felt overpoweringly miserable, and almost ready to cry. How could such a mistake have happened ? Miles away from home, nowhere near to get any- thing — what was to be done ? " I've got it — I've got something," cried Lorna, rummaging among Jean's plates, " I've got a loaf of bread and some Devonshire cream." " Splendid," someone exclaimed ; and in a minute Lorna was busy spreading Devonshire cream on the bread Wilton was cutting. It was not sumptuous fare for hungry men, but they never enjoyed anything more, and chaffed and laughed, and drew lots for the last piece, and made such fun of it all, Jean forgot her unhappiness at Blackcock, 1 09 the mistake, and teased Lorna tremendously when she won the last slice, which some declared was an old maid, and others a handsome husband. They were a very jolly party, all good friends, and everyone ready to enjoy himself, which is half the battle in such matters, for he who expects to be bored is always bored beyond redemption, while he who wants to be amused, and be himself amusing, is sure to find his goal. After the primitive luncheon, with renewed vigour they all started again. Entering the pine wood through a five-barred gate, the five guns were placed in a line, Jean making the sixth, and behind walked Lorna and Bea. There was a keeper with a retriever, and a few beaters worked through the wood on the right. Having received strict injunctions not to speak above a whisper, the girls keeping well in line a couple of feet or so behind the men, began their march. They formed quite a formidable boundary placed in couples about twenty yards apart. Heather and bracken carpeted the land. Every now and then bang ! bang ! would be heard along the line, as some unfortunate bird fell to a gun, each man wondering who had shot it. The real excitement of the gunless girls was when their own particular man discharged his barrel. Next to join- ing in the sport oneself the best fun is to be behind a steady shot. Up gets a bird just in front — up goes the gun, and almost before the report is heard the game 1 10 Wilton , Q.C. falls dead. The height of bliss is attained over a " right and left," which, for the benefit of our non- sporting friends, we must explain, means that when two birds rise and one is shot with each barrel of the gun in quick succession, it is termed a " right and left." It is not easy to accomplish this, as a couple or more birds do not often rise within shot, and even if they do, it is not everyone who is quick enough to hit both. Consequently a " right and left" is always a joy. Mr. Wilton was not much of a shot, therefore he was all the more delighted when a cock rose in front of him, at which he aimed, fired, and, much to his surprise, brought down. It was a fine bird,* in good plumage for so early in the year as August, and Wilton eagerly plucked a few feathers from its wing and offered them to Lorna to adorn her hat. "What a funny idea," said Lorna, " always to wear flies or feathers in one's hat in Scotland ; really the variety in Jean's headgear is remarkable." As they worked their way through the wood, a wood of glorious pine trees, from the cones of which the sun was drawing forth a delightful scent, several more birds rose, and instantly bang, bang, bang laid them low. One among the number could not be found. Sir Laurence declared he had seen it fall, but though the dog worked in every direction the cock could not be found. Everyone assisted in the search, as Sir Laurence was convinced he had killed Blackcock. 1 1 1 his game ; but after a time the rest of the party got a little dubious. The dog even jiad given up the quest in spite of much coaxing from the keeper, and they were all turning away in despair of finding it, chaffing Sir Laurance, who still declared he had seen it fall, when Jean calling out : " Look ! " pointed to a tree, amid the branches of which lay the blackcock. No wonder the dog could not follow the scent in the low ground scrub ! After leaving the wood the party descended into a valley, through which ran one of those pretty little rivers that go to swell the Scotch lochs. It was not a wide river, but one, as a rule, easily crossed by some half-dozen stepping stones ; that day, however, in consequence of the severe thunder rain which had fallen in torrents, the water had risen very consider- ably. What were the girls to do ? Walk back a mile to a point where they could cross by a tree bridge or wade through the water nearly to their knees ? There was no pony at hand this time to help them over the difficulty. Almost before the question was asked the keeper directed one of the guns to get on his back, and he would " wark" him across, and in a twinkling all the men were standing dry on the opposite bank laugh- ing at the girls. Not long did they laugh, however. Donald was back again, and, after telling the men " jest to wark on, whateffer," without any hesitation picked up the ladies one after the other and landed 1 12 Wilton, Q.C. them dry on the other side. Who could be offended ? He had never asked permission ; he had never smiled] his inborn courtesy had ordered the men ahead. He made no more of carrying the girls than he did of carrying the game bag. This natural politeness is often found among keepers, many of whom are at heart perfect gentlemen. The party did not make a very good bag. They walked over horrible country — bramble, bracken, gorse, low scrub, everything prickly and hideous in fact, but the birds were scarce. Black game seem to be dying out in many parts of Scotland, in spite of the fact that hens are carefully left, " 'ware hens" being a very usual order to try and improve the brood. "My belief is," said Mr. Fraser, "that the scarcity of black game each year is caused by continual poaching. They rest on the ground, and are very easily netted in consequence." " I say, Fraser," asked Wilton, " do blackcock generally fly up wind ? "• " Yes, they do ; and, should there be a strong wind, the gun must ( draw a bead ' on the birds. But you are doing very well to-day, old man," the Laird added, ever ready with an encouraging word. " I'll feel proud of you yet, Mr. Lawyer." They got one good rise of a dozen birds, out of which the guns secured seven ; but it turned hot and sultry in the afternoon, and the party had . Blackcock. 1 1 3 hardly crossed the old stone wall, intending to wend their way home, when a tremendous clap of thunder vibrated through the air, and a deluge of rain descended upon them — one of those sudden and fearful storms that sometimes spring up in Scotland. They returned for safety to the wall, and tried to get what protection they could from the old grey barrier. Fitzroy Bagshot had hardly taken his seat beside Bea, before he jumped into the air to the accompaniment of " phis, phis," and, looking down at the spot he had just vacated, he saw a big adder, distinguishable by the zig-zag chain of dark markings down the neck. " Oh, how horrid ! " gasped poor Bea, jumping up herself as soon as she saw the action of her neigh- bour. " Is it really an adder ? " But, almost before there was time to reply, Bagshot had given the viper such a crack on the head with the butt of his gun that it spat and hissed no more. " We have a good many adders about here," vouchsafed the Laird ; <( but luckily their bite rarely proves fatal — never, in fact, unless the person bitten happen to be in a bad state of health. But it is hardly desirable to sit on them — eh, Bagshot ? " Lightning flashed through the heavens and glittered on the steel barrels of the guns in an alarming manner. The old keeper soon collected I H4 Wilton, Q.C. the firearms into a little stack some distance from the party, and covered them over with a mackintosh. 11 Donald, you Scotchmen never seem to get wet," remarked Sir Laurence, the rain pouring down his back. " Nae, we're always pretty dry ; " and the keeper slyly rolled his tongue and winked his eye. The baronet could not resist a joke from a Scotchman, so out came his whisky-flask at once. Lorna, who was chatting merrily to Wilton, had been playing with a sprig of heather, which she had carelessly let drop beside her. Quite unnoticed, even by the girl, the man who talked so gravely, and fascinated her so strangely, picked it up, and, almost without thinking what he was doing, he took a letter from his pocket — the letter in a pink envelope in a woman's handwriting — and slipped the sprig of heather between the pages, as he remarked : " Friendship is so seldom disinterested. It is generally capital laid out to bring in large returns." " How cynical you are ! But I suppose it is the fashion to be cynical. Remarks of that kind are always called clever. I think them sad. There is true friendship ; I am certain there is." " Perhaps. Time strengthens such friendship ; but it usually weakens love, Miss Stracey." Lorna and Wilton were so engrossed in con- versation that they did not notice what the old keeper was doing. Turning away at the last remark, Blackcock. 1 1 5 which had made her feel a little uncomfortable, more from the way her companion looked at her than from what he said, Lorna realised that she ought to get rid of the gun that was lying between them, as it might act as a lightning-conductor. She put out her hand to lift the weapon that lay in a mossy knoll between herself and Wilton, when, from some un- accountable cause it went off. The smoke, the loud report, the shock of the whole thing, completely dazed her until she heard the keeper, enquire of Wilton, " Are you badly hurt, sir ? " Good heavens ! had she shot him ? " There is nothing much wrong, I think/' he replied, vainly trying to conceal how much he was suffering. " A little touch in the leg, perhaps — that is all." But, as he tried to rise, he found that it was more than a touch, and that he could not stand. Donald stood over him shaking his head and murmuring, " I knew something unlucky would happen when you turned back this morning. Ah, dearie me ! Maybe ye'll never wark agin, puir buddy — puir buddy ! " * # * * * How the storm raged that night. , Thunder claps rolled through frowning skies, one report following another in quick succession. Darkness, deep and wild, overspread the heavens, and when the sky opened the flashes of light seemed by contrast only I 2 u 6 Wilton, Q.C. the more glaring. The atmosphere was leaden, there was no life in the air, and Lorna felt stifled. She could not sleep, even the sheet seemed to oppress her as she lay tossing about and wondering when the storm would end. How the wind sometimes mocks us in our lighter moods, and at others sympathises strangely. As night deepened, the very throbbing of the storm soothed her. The wind as it roared and sighed through the trees played a fitting accompaniment to her feelings. There was sympathy in its wild fury and occasional calmer gusts. The irony of it all ! She the one to have shot him — shot him mortally perhaps. She heard footsteps passing her door and subdued voices speaking in the passage. Was Mr. Wilton worse ? CHAPTER VI. SNARED. It seemed quite natural to Lorna Stracey that she should often sit beside Wilton's sofa. She had no thought of danger or of love. She was innocent as a child. Besides he was double her own age, and was she not the one who had lamed him ? Therefore was it not her duty to give up some hours each day for his amusement ? Each day, accordingly, she sat beside him and told him with amusing frankness what all the party had been doing. On one particular afternoon she was very full of a snared rabbit, the memory of which haunted her. "When we came up to the boy," she said, "we found him torturing the poor bunny in -the snare. The wretched rabbit had a broken leg, and was half dead, having been hours in the trap, perhaps the whole night. It was foaming and bleeding, and that brute of a boy was teasing instead of killing it at once out of common humanity. " " Oh, I do think those traps awful inventions," exclaimed Wilton. " I cannot bear cruelty." " Why, I thought you said the other day you were a vivisectionist ! " n8 Wilton, Q.C. " So I am, heart and soul. Where would science have been without experimental research ? But there is no cruelty in that." 11 1 always thought it was an awful form of tor- ment/' ventured Lorna. " Vivisection is humanity. I am an apostle of Pasteur, Ludwig, Koch, and all their class. It is such men as these who have saved us from illness and disease, and they are men who would turn away in horror from such a sickening sight as you have seen to-day. It is brutal acts of that sort which make my blood curdle, and yet every day hundreds of iniquitous torture traps and snares are set by cruel wretches like the boy you speak of, who often leave rabbits to die of starvation or pain, or go mad with suffering/ ' " But surely there are dreadful things done under the banner of vivisection/' persisted the girl. " None so dreadful as the schoolboy perpetrates constantly. Children are all cruel by nature. No, vivisection is a thing to be encouraged. It is the army of anti-vivisectionists (among whom are generally to be found the long-haired class of men and the short-haired class of women) who are the cruelists, inasmuch as they impede experimental research — the quickest and surest way of discovering the secrets of life, which enable us to solve the dark problems of disease." " I've often thought we were terribly cruel to our Snared. 119 horses," ventured Lorna. " Sometimes in London I have nearly cried to see the omnibus horses on slippery days struggling to start their 'bus when some man has forgotten to put down the gravel. Father says 'bus horses never live long, poor things. And the cart horses — horses in coal carts — and large vans trying to drag weights far too heavy for them, oh, it has often made me sick to see their struggles." " You are quite right, Miss Stracey, that is what I always say, we witness cruelty, unnecessary cruelty, every day, and do naught to alleviate it, and yet we allow an hysterical chorus of cranks to stay the hand of science. Yes," he said, after a pause, " we are specially cruel to what we are pleased to call ' tame animals/ ' home-pets.' We feed the dogs in the name of kindness till they die of fatty degeneration, or we caress them to their death. We fondle cats and tie ribbons with deafening bells round their necks, and then leave home and tell the charwoman to look after the ' dear things ' while we drink waters and flirt at Homburg. The charwoman immediately pockets pussey's pension and lets pussey herself out into the street to starve ! We drop live lobsters and crabs into water that should be boiling and gradually boil them up, to say nothing of our performances on oysters and skate ! " " Don't, Mr. Wilton, don't. I never thought of all these horrid things before ; but I have fancied sport cruel sometimes." 120 Wilton, Q.C. " No, that is not so cruel. The fox or the deer die fighting, which is a moment of intense excite- ment. Very preferable to many of our own terrible and dreary exits, for you must remember that ten out of every twelve human deaths are fraught with horror and suffering." " Death is very sad." "We consider ourselves very humane, and yet we give arsenical paste unblushingly, and heed not the agonising death it entails. We are, indeed, a queer lot to shriek at a few painless experiments and sanction on every side the veriest acts of brutality ! I am a vivisectionist because I have taken the trouble to know something of what it really means." ■ ■■ Do you really know anything about Pasteur ? " Lorna ventured to ask, much gratified to learn from a thoughtful man like Wilton that vivisection was not (< very wicked." " Yes, but this can hardly be an interesting subject to a girl." " It is very interesting to me. Shall I tell you a great big secret?" " If you like ; I shall feel honoured." " Well ; I want to be a doctor." il A doctor, good heavens ! " "Well, not exactly a doctor; but I want to learn enough medicine to go out to India and help those poor women debarred from medical advice ; because Snared. 1 2 1 they are not allowed by their religion to see any other men than their husbands. " 11 And what does your father say to such an idea ? " " He says I am too young, that I must go out into society first and enjoy myself ; see the world, then when I am one or two and twenty if I am still of the same opinion, he will help me to follow my bent." " Your father is a very wise man." / So, of course, I shall do it in a couple of years. " " Unless you change your mind." " Oh— but I won't. At least, I don't think so. You see I have worked at it a little already by going to ambulance classes, and I have several certificates," she added proudly. " But perhaps you will marry." 11 No, I don't think I shall do that ; certainly not unless I was most awfully deeply in love." " Even then, Miss Stracey, love seldom bears the wear and tear of matrimony." " Would you have one marry without love then ? " she asked, somewhat shocked. (( Certainly not — a loveless marriage is entering a hell with one's eyes open." "Then you don't approve of matrimony at all?" she said. " Yes — sometimes — but marry a fool, he will possess the redeeming virtue of amiability, while genius is generally queer tempered." She did not answer, and quietly matched her 122 Wilton, Q.C. embroidery silks. At last she said, " Tell me all you know about Pasteur and his work ? " " A friend of mine was bitten by a mad dog, and I went over with him to Paris, so I do know some- thing about it. I only wish that a few of the prejudiced beings who flourish on our English soil would go over to Paris as I did, and see this wonderful ( Institute Pasteur,' and its workings for themselves, and obtain a few minutes' conversation with its great originator." "Why?" " Because their objections would be silenced, and they would see how much more cruelty is practised in our country by mischievous children and uneducated people, than is ever perpetrated in the field of science." " Surely vivisectionists cut up animals alive?" " Never, little girl, never, never. Except under the influence of chloroform no animal is touched, and no animal is ever sacrificed save in the interests of science, which naturally means the interests of all animal life." " But anyone can do horribly cruel things and call it vivisection, can't they ? " " Certainly not. Only such men, and a very few indeed mind, can obtain licences as are considered by recognised authorities capable of performing original investigations, that will yield valuable results either in the cure or prevention of disease." Snared. 123 " Are you quite sure they never cut up cats, dogs, or rabbits alive ? " " No, never. In the first instance the majority of experiments on animals, called vivisection, are with- out any cutting whatever, and no experiments of any sort are ever done without an anaesthetic. It is to the interest of the so-called vivisectionist, that the animal should suffer as little pain as possible." " How do you happen to know so much about the matter ?" " Because I consider it one of the burning questions of the day, and, therefore, after my visit to Paris, I dived deeply into the subject. The best friend I have, the kindest-hearted man living, is one of the much-abused and much-maligned experimentalists. " " And has his research really done good then ? " "Has chloroform done any good?" he replied. " Because all anaesthetics were discovered by vivisec- tion ? You know what an inestimable boon they have proved, Miss Stracey, not only in the saving of life, but in the lessening of pain, and in making it possible to perform operations before undreamt of. Then, again, all antiseptics owe their origin to ex- periments on animals, and we know the value of dis- infectants brought down to every-day life." " Well that is enough in itself," she said, "when we realise it all." " But that is not all, not nearly all. We have learnt the value of vivisection against hydrophobia 124 Wilton, Q.C. through Pasteur's experiments, and a preventive for a disease called anthrax in cattle, and swine fever, while in all probability Koch's experiments in the prevention of consumption (tuberculosis) will soon be perfected, and probably other preventives obtained against cholera. All the wonderful things now achieved in connection with the brain and spinal cord owe their origin to the localisation of disease, discovered by vivisectionists. And you, as a good Churchwoman, must feel the awfulness of insanity closing the door of worship, and the impossibility of knowing a Creator." " Have you then seen anyone cured who was really mad ? " '■ Yes, I have seen several wonderful cases." " Oh, do tell me, I like to hear of good done to anyone." " My scientific friend took me one day to an asylum, and there I saw a great, fat, bloated, puffy woman of about forty, who was mad, or rather imbecile. She was a married woman, and had several children to whom she was lost, because her illness and madness had made it necessary to shut her up. About four months afterwards, we went to a nice little shop at Kilburn, where a good-looking woman beamed at us from behind a counter, while she was busy doing up a parcel of wool someone had just bought. She was very much pleased to see us, showed us her children, and her neat little parlour, . Snared. 125 told my friend how well she w r as, and how the business was picking up again since her return. And this slight, nice-looking, capable woman, was the same as I had seen in the asylum a few months before." " Oh ! Mr. Wilton, is that really true ? It does not seem possible. Tell me some more ; how was she cured. " " Perhaps you know a disease — a sort of swelling in the throat — called goiter ?" " Oh, yes. I have seen some awful ones in Switzerland. " " Well, goiters are dangerous, and, unless they can be removed, sometimes end in suffocation. Conse- quently, since they are very prevalent in Switzerland as you say, they are often removed from young people in that country to prevent their spreading. Now a famous doctor noticed that people who had had these goiters removed often became imbecile or mad." " How dreadful ! " " Yes ; but he watched the cases very carefully, and at last decided that the part of the throat removed with the goiter, and called the ' thyroid/ must have some connection with the brain, and cause the loss of intellect. Two Englishmen, Horsley, in London, and Murray, in Newcastle, took up the idea, and making a few experiments on animals (under chloro- form mind), they discovered that the removal of this 126 Wilton, Q.C. thyroid produced the same weak mental symptons. Having got so far, it seemed probable that cases suffering from ' myxcedema ' in our asylums and elsewhere might owe their origin to the absence of this thyroid. Myxcedema was the dropsical, fat, puffy, weak mental condition of the woman I told you of." " Yes, and what did they do ? " u About four or five years ago they grafted a thyroid under the skin of one of these people, and very shortly the result proved wonderful, and after a few injections the case was cured." M That is most marvellous ; but it is very sad to have to kill an animal to cure human beings." M Not a bit of it ; they kill nothing. The butcher kills the sheep for you and me, and now that the discovery is known and so largely practised there is a regular market value for the thyroids of sheep. The chemist buys them, pounds them up, makes them into pills, and after taking these thyroid pills for about three months insane patients suffering from that disease are cured." M I never heard anything so wonderful. I will never say a word against research work again. I see how easily now we may get wrong impressions. But all you say only makes me more anxious to become a nurse or doctor ; the work is so fascinating." M Aye, and I can surprise you much more if I tell you the particulars of Roux's cure for diptheria and croup by innoculation, but you look too sad Snared. 127 to-day. I will tell you much more about vivisection at some other time. Now I want you to tell me about yourself." Avoiding which last remark Lorna exclaimed, " Oh, I meant to tell you before, I like your tie awfully." Somewhat surprised at the suddenness of this remark, Wilton replied, " I'm so glad." u Yes, you look much better in those coloured ties than in those dreadful black things. Why did not you wear them at first ? u " Because I had not got them ; I sent to London for them, because you said you did not like black ties. But come, Miss Stracey, tell me why you look sad?" " No — I do not want to talk about myself. Tell me instead where you came from, Mr. Wilton, and how it happens you are here ? " ■ ■ I came from Yorkshire and my constituents," he answered simply. " I passed on to Loch Awe, and had to stay the night at Oban, so decided to make it two, and enjoy a peep at Staffa and Iona." " I know them both so well in pictures," said Lorna. M It was a lovely day, clear and bright, with a sharp enough breeze to make white crests on the water. We left at eight o'clock — quite a late hour for a Scotch start, and thoroughly enjoyed steaming through the Sound of Mull. We were always within half a mile of the land, the rugged coast of 128 Wilton, Q.C. which was somewhat desolate, with a few crofts nestling here and there, all unpretentious enough little dwellings, one storey buildings, covered by a thatch roof, white-washed outside walls, on which the only attempt at decoration was the string of herrings you were talking about the other day. Once or twice we stopped at a little pier to take on board or set ashore some sporting folk, and marvelled at the primitiveness of the landing-place and the smartness of the dogcarts sent to meet guests bound for the shooting-boxes in the hills. At one little place we took in about fifty cases of game, neat little cardboard boxes, sent away as a pretty remembrance by fortunate sportsman to their less fortunate friends in the south. n " I thought they were too primitive for piers in those parts. " " At the smaller places there are none, so a boat was put off, whereupon we slackened speed for the mails to be exchanged ; but there seldom seemed to be a letter in the mail-bag, although we always left parcels of bread and food and clothing. When the weather proves rough — which it very often does — I fancy boats cannot put off, and then there is no communication whatever for the crofters with the rest of the world. " " They must lead very lonely lives. Did you see much of the peasantry or their customs ? " " Two old wives amused us on the vessel. One Snared. 1 29 wore her peasant's short winsey dress, and her neat white cap (mutch), but the other had made an attempt to be in the fashion. Her thin black alpaca was all torn, as thin materials are sure to be if dragged through whins and brambles, and she had a bonnet — an awful bonnet. She was very proud of it, however, and insisted that her friend should try it on. Silly woman ! if she had only known how much better she looked in her native dress than in the tawdry finery she was wearing she would have cast alpaca and bonnet to the winds." 11 Did you see all those lovely colours at Staffa one always finds in pictures ? " 14 Fine colours, certainly ; but I was a little dis- appointed nevertheless." " Were you? I always thought it was so lovely that I should like to live there." " Nothing lives in Staffa except a few sheep, but when it is fine enough to land, large boats cross over every day from Gometra, about five miles away, and row thirty of the ship's passengers at a time into Fingal's cave." " Did you go into the cave ? " the girl asked. " Yes, and when we entered two of the passengers, who turned out to be opera singers, began to sing, and as their voices rang through the caverns they reminded me of Dante's entrance to the caves to the sound of beautiful music." "That must have been delightful," K 130 Wilton, Q.C. " Yes. The music was the best part of Staffa I thought. Staffa, by-the-bye, means the Isle of Columns. These pillars are basaltic, sometimes horizontal, sometimes perpendicular masses, but always lying in uniformity. They have a most curious effect. Fancy, they are broken straight off at different heights, forming great steps and pillars ! It was weird, barren, bleak, even in the sunshine. What must it be when the great Atlantic waves come rolling in, dashing their white spray over the huge rocks on either side of the entrance of the cave ? " M Did you like Iona better ? " " I think I did. Iona is called the ' burial place of kings.' The ruined churches are roofless, and stand there as monuments of history. There are some fine graves and carved stones erected to the memory of sixty kings, chiefs, abbots, bishops, and monks, also two runic crosses, said to be the finest and oldest in Scotland. The old monuments and stones tell their story of days gone by, interesting to see and to know about, but awfully desolate to live amongst. No vegetables or corn grow on Iona, and there are only a few crofts containing a couple of hundred people, mostly children, judging by the dozens playing on the silver sand, all whining ' one penny shells/ The pretty, dirty, little brats knew no English but that, or pretended that they did not. It was Sir Walter Scott's lines on these isles Snared. 131 made me wish to visit them. He says," continued Wilton : " The shores of Mull on the eastward lay, And Ulva dark, and Colonsay, And all the group of islets gay That guard famed StafTa round. Then all unknown its columns rose, Where dark and undisturbed repose The cormorant had found, And the shy seal had quiet home, And weltered in that wondrous dome, Where, as to shame, the temples decked By skill of earthly architect, Nature herself, it seemed, would raise A Minster to her Maker's praise ! Not for a meaner use ascend Her columns, or her arches bend ; Nor of a theme less solemn tells That mighty surge that ebbs and swells. And still between that awful pause, From the high vault an answer draws, In varied tones prolonged and high, That mocks the organ's melody. Nor doth its entrance front in vain To old Iona's holy fane. That Nature's voice might seem to say, 'Well hast thou done, frail child of clay! Thy humble powers that stately shrine Tasked high and hard — but witness mine ! ' " u Do you know much poetry like that ? M asked Lorna, quite surprised. " No, not much ; but I'm very fond of bits of Swinbourne, and the less intricate parts of Browning. K 2 132 Wilton, Q.C. Of course I value poetry more for the unwritten ideas suggested than the mere words, but I like some meaning in the words too. After reading a poem over a few times, haying a good memory, I often grasp the lines/ ' 11 Do you know many authors and artists ? " " Yes." " How lovely that must be — I wish I did." " It is generally a mistake, believe me, to know our favourite author, painter, or clergyman/ ' he replied. 11 You read a great deal, Mr. Wilton ? " " Yes, I suppose I do. I have read seriously in my day — now I am an omnivorous reader of light literature. It is my recreation." " Rather a serious form of recreation I should think. I read a little sometimes because I like it, but I think it too serious to be a recreation." 11 I have half-an-hour's leisure now and again, or an hour at night, when I rest my brain by reading, generally novels, although they are rather aggra- vating at the present time, when so many of them are written with a purpose, to discuss some social problem, while other authors try to outdo each other in improprieties and audaciousness. All the most glaring seem, alas, to be written by women who shield themselves behind a masculine name. ' George Eliot ' started the fashion, and now every woman who wishes to discuss subjects more or less unfit Snared. 133 for public print assumes a masculine pseudonym, and the men write anonymously ! A strange fad. I like a novel to amuse and interest me for the time, not to preach me a sermon, or drag me through the mud of immorality. " " And which novelist do you like best ? M " What a womanish question, little girl. Of the home writers perhaps Hardy ; I have read \ Tess of the D'Urbevilles ' many times, because it is so human, although Hardy may not have such a grip of life's subtleties as Hall Caine. Of the foreign writers I prefer Turgenjeff. I can't find time to unravel the mysteries of Meredith, and I detest the so-called types depicted by Ibsen. Sometimes I like Miss Braddon, and I forgive Zola all his vixens for the sake of his great historical romance, ' Debacle^ " " You read a lot of foreign writers, I think ? " M No. I like French books, however, particularly some of Georges Ohnet, or Octave Feuillet, but I detest the ravings of Pierre Loti. Now and again I like Shorthouse, or Mrs. Humphrey Ward, or some of Mrs. J. H. Riddell's and Mrs. Lynn Linton's books. You see, I try all sorts of styles, and the very variety makes the relaxation." " Oh, how I wish I had read so much. I feel so ignorant." " Plenty of time, child. You are very young, just go on as you are, enjoy yourself, and take to reading 134 Wilton, Q.C. when balls and parties no longer amuse you. Read- ing is an excellent substitute for amusements. Ah ! yes, you are still only a child, Miss Stracey." " Oh, no, I am not. I am twenty, and that is quite old you know." "Old? Twenty old? Why I am double that age. But tell me, child — if I may venture to be so inquisitive — why do you look so terribly sad ? I have noticed it all day." " Do I look sad?" the girl inquired, lifting her eyes from her work and endeavouring to smile. u Yes, very," replied the invalid. " Forgive me if I am guilty of an indiscretion, but, seeing you look so broken-hearted makes me feel — well, feel broken- hearted too," finished Wilton, as he took a cigarette from his case and slowly placed it between his lips, after he had asked the girl's permission to smoke. " I received a letter this morning that has troubled me very much, and I cannot get it out of my thoughts," Lorna said, after a pause. " It seems to haunt me," and she gave a little shiver and bent more closely over her wonderfully darned silk embroidery. " Can I help you in any way ? If so you have but to command me," said Wilton, striking a match and watching f the little clouds of smoke ascend. " Mr. Wilton," Lorna asked desperately, " if a man love a woman very very much, is it wrong of her not to love him in return, not to love him at all ? " The successful barrister smiled. -Snared. 135 " Poor little perplexed girl — No. How can a woman love a man just because he happens to love her ? Love is not a slave that can be bought, love comes when least expected, and sweeps all before it" 11 Yes, but if the man go on loving the girl awfully, ruining all his life for her, ought she not to try and love him just a little ? M " What do you mean by ruining his life?" asked Mr. Wilton, puffing resolutely at his cigarette, which threatened to go out. " Why," answered Lorna, the colour rising slightly to her cheek, " I mean doing silly things, things he ought not to do/' " If a man's love for a girl lead him into awful excesses, that man's love is not worth calling love, it is only a worthless passion." " But ought not her friendship for him to strengthen with his love?" she still persisted. " I cannot see how friendship and love can ever go together, they, to my mind, are as unmixable as oil and water." ■" Oh, but Mr. Wilton you don't understand. I am so worried, and I do not know what I ought to do." " Suppose you tell me what the trouble is, care- fully suppressing the name, and see if we cannot settle something between us. You are a sensible little woman, and must not spoil your holiday by 136 Wilton, Q.C. worrying over the impossible. Now tell me all about it, ( from the very beginning ' as children say." " Well," began Lorna, after a little hesitation, f; a young man came to London when I was a school-girl, and as he was the son of an old friend of my father, he naturally came a great deal to our house — he dined with us every Sunday, and gradually he began to come during the week as well." " How old were you then ? " " I was fifteen, and he about five years older. He used to help me with my painting and my Latin exercises, and Euclid, and he often called in on his way home from his tutor, for about an hour before dinner. He was a jolly boy, all fun and laughter, always making jokes and drawing little caricatures. But suddenly he grew grave and silent, he seemed quite to change. He used to sit and look at me and say nothing." She paused to thread her needle. (( Oh, it was awful, I used to think he was going mad, until one day I ran down to the dining-room to get a book I had left there, and as I turned to leave the room I found Alf was in it also — he pushed the door to — caught me in his arms — and — and — oh ! Mr. Wilton, I know it was very wrong — he kissed me. I tried to push him away — but he was so strong, he told me he loved me, madly, distractedly — I don't know exactly what he said, he frightened me so much. But I do know that when I cried ' No, no, Alf, I don't love you a bit ; I hate Snared. 137 you for being so wicked/ he let me go, and stood staring at me until great tears stood in his eyes." Tears started to the girl's own eyes as she told her story, and her hearer with difficulty asked : "Well, what did you do ? " H I tried to cheer him up, but he said such terribly heart-broken things that I could not listen to them any longer, and at last I ran away, my cheeks burning with shame. I know it was all my fault, but I could not help it." And she wiped away a tear. " How was it your fault, my poor girl ? You could not help being sweet and fascinating. And what was the end ? " ' It hasn't ended ; it will never end. He haunts me. He always comes, and, if anyone is there, he just sits and looks at me, and whenever we are alone, even for a moment, he begs and implores me to love him just a little. I can't, Mr. Wilton, and I feel so wretched about it. For five years his love has haunted me, and cursed him. At one time I said he must never come near me again, and for three months I did not see him, but then I met him in the street, looking like one dead. And it turned out that, in trying to forget me, he had been silly and wild, and had done very wicked things." " What did you do ? " " Of course, as I could not bear to think of him being so miserable, and going so far wrong, I said 138 Wilton, Q.C. he might come and see me again if he would promise to give up his stupid life. He did — he swore to me he had done so — and Alf could not tell a lie. One day he made me give him a bit of my hair — ( something of me/ as he said. He declared he would have it put in a ring, and that, so long as that ring was on his finger, he would never do anything I should disapprove." " And ? " asked Wilton, sincerely sorry for the girl. " For three years now he has worn that ring with my hair plaited round it, and when he has done anything wrong, he takes it off and comes and tells me, and asks me to put it on again. I can trust him, but I cannot, cannot love him. It is impossible that things can go on for ever like this. To-day I had a letter from him, and it has made ,me miserable. " And her looks expressed even more than her words. " Now I have told you everything, Mr. Wilton," she added. " You are so good and kind — do tell me what to do." The lawyer, who had been listening intently, was staggered at the question. No queries from opposing counsel had ever so completely floored him as this girl's simple sentence. He lay gravely quiet and silent. The tears had risen to the girl's eyes as she unfolded a letter — the letter that had caused her so much pain. " He says," she faltered, M ' Why is fate so cruel Snared. 1 39 to me ? What have I done to be so miserable as I am ? I love you only too well, as you know. Oh, love without return is a heavy burden to bear, my dear girl, and I pray to God you may never know the agony of it. The hair is rapidly wearing out of my ring ; it is worn and frayed, but the ring has never been off my finger for a single hour since you left town. It has been my guardian angel for three years ; but if the hair all goes my talisman would be lost. I cannot wear the black dinted silver, dearest, it would look absurd. I feel the talisman is slipping away from me fast, and without that cherished ring (put on my finger with a solemn oath to you) I am afraid my power to resist temptation may vanish also/ " " What am I to say to him ? Oh ! what am I to do," sobbed poor Lorna. Gently putting his hand on her shoulder, Mr. Wilton said : " Alf is a good fellow. Help him again as you have helped him before. The hair is but a trifle in itself, yet evidently much depends on it to him. Send it as an emblem of good — not as an emblem of love, but of good, that good which an honest girl alone can bring to a man's troubled heart." Many times afterwards he wondered why he had so spoken. CHAPTER VII. TROUT. Time passed on, and Mr. Wilton made good pro- gress. He was still, however, unable to walk more than a few steps at a time, and therefore, to his mortification, he could not join any of the shooting parties. Much concerned to see his guest spending his holiday in such a dreary fashion, Mr. Fraser suggested he might be able to fish, an idea the invalid accepted eagerly, and the girl cousins, who could throw very good flies, were told off to keep him company. Lorna was content to look on and learn the mysteries of trout fishing, while Mrs. Jackson kindly consented to follow suit. The Laird, one morning before starting for the hill with his guns, arranged a little fishing party at the loch on the moor accordingly. " How far is it ? " inquired Wilton. " Well, the gillies call it a mile and a bittock ! " laughed his host. " Oh, I know what your bittocks in Scotland are ! " was the answer. " They are always a great deal longer than the distance which preceded them, Trout. 1 4 1 so that a mile and a bittock, Miss Stracey, probably means two miles and a half." "Oh, come, Wilton, that's too bad!" protested Mr. Frazer. " My notion is this — as you can't walk, I have ordered a pony, so that you may ride right up to the loch with the ladies ; then you will only have to step into the boat, where you can fish all day. We men will join your party at luncheon. It is not exactly on our beat," he continued ; " but those chaps of mine looked so disconsolate when they thought they were not going to see the fair sex at their midday meal, that I arranged to wheel round to the loch, that they might have a chance of meeting you all ; " and he actually winked, or appeared to wink, his eyes twinkled so. " You must put on strong boots, Lorna," he added, addressing Miss Stracey ; " for the ground is what we call in Scotland a ( wee bittie saft.' Do you know what that means ? " " No — I can't say I do. I have learnt that a ( har ' is what we call a Scotch mist, said to soak an Englishman and not even wet a Scotchman ; but what ' a wee bittie saft ' implies, baffles me." " Well, translate it into a little bit soft, and you will know that it is inclined to be more than a little wet under foot." " Well, you do have funny expressions," laughed the girl, " but I like them," she added, with a little nod of approval ; and, as it was " a wee bittie saft," the girls dressed accordingly. 142 Wilton, Q.C. The small procession — Mr. Wilton on his pony, the four ladies walking, a couple of gillies and another old pony with game baskets slung across his back filled with luncheon — started from the hall door about eleven o' clock. After they left the garden they went in single file along a bridle path, and, leaving the wood on the right, made a gradual ascent of the rocky land, interspersed with grassy patches, where sheep of every shade and colour, black, brown, and white, were feeding. On they went, chatting very pleasantly on all manner of subjects, until they came to the loch itself. It was still damp, just the right sort of dull day for fishing, and the water was calm. After a good deal of discussion, the course of procedure was definitely settled. Wilton was helped into one of those great, broad-beamed, flat-bottomed boats generally used for loch fishing, and, comfortably seating himself, surrounded by rods, baskets, and landing nets, prepared for some hours* enjoyment. He found that Mrs. Jackson, Bea Lempriere, and a gillie were to be his companions ; Jean and Lorna, with the other gillie, meaning to try their fortune in the little stream that emptied itself into the loch. 11 Come, Lorna/' said Jean, " I really want some fish for dinner to night. None is coming from Inver- ness to-day, but if Angie and I have any luck we may manage to get a pretty good basket, and you must help us." Trout. 143 The girls decided to fish up stream. It was a good day, just the fag end of a big spate, and after a little walk, intercepted by an ugly stone wall and some wire fencing, easily crossed as Mrs. Jackson was not with them, they came to a suitable pool. Here the sport began. Jean and the keeper adjusted their rods and played their flies at different intervals along the river bank. Lorna was given another old rod to try what she could do. " What is this rod made of Jean ? " " It is a greenheart," was the reply. u I think the light-made ones are the best for trout, and I like a fine gut casting line myself, about three yards long, fastened at the end of an ordinary line ; it works well with three good flies attached to it." " But there are such lots of different kinds of flies," said Lorna. " Oh, yes; there are dozens of kinds of flies, and each fisherman has his own particular fancy." " How do you know which to use out of that great volume ?." for by this time Jean was busily engaged studying her fly-book. "Habit, my dear; besides it is not at all a bad plan to watch what sort of flies are fluttering about the pools and match them as nearly as possible from the book. Fish are more likely to rise to a fly they know than some strange gaudy made-up specimen that sometimes takes the fancy of amateurs to the work like you," she added laughingly. 144 Wilton , Q.C. " You are a naughty girl ; don't chaff me because I can't fish and shoot. I am going to learn. What is the name of that one ? n " That is a ( March Brown/ that a ( Hare Lug/ that a ' Zulu/ that ( Greenwell's Glory/ and that with the red, green, and yellow body is a ' Teal's Wing,' " answered Jean. " What is the matter with your line, Angie ? " she asked, turning to the gillie, who was struggling hard trying to put something to rights. " Well, I broke it the last time I was out, Missie, so I have just took two top pieces of the salmon rod, and with some waxed thread spliced this reel to the second joint. I hope I shall manage to get some fish with it, and if I can't, well " he said, scratching his head, " I can't." " True Scotch philosophy," laughed Jean. " But we must get fish, and if we cannot catch enough you will have to do some guddling for them." " What on earth is guddling ? " asked Lorna. " You'll see that presently, my dear," and sure enough, later on she did see the mysterious operation. First of all Angie took off his boots and stock- ings, turned up his knickerbockers as high as they would go, and baring his arms above the elbows, marched boldly into the water, and gently worked away with his hands for the trout under the stones. This mode of tickling the trout answered well, for he Trout. 1 45 secured several good fish by means of what he was pleased to call " guddling." u Now, Lorna, just do the best you can, play your fly so, and so, don't let your line hook in the trees, and see if you can catch a fish," saying which Jean went off by herself and worked away at the casts. Scarcely had her fly fluttered over the water before she " rose and struck " a trout. A good bite too, judging by the length of line he took. The girl played her fish most cleverly. Now and again she saw the shining scales glisten through the water, as the struggling rays of the sunlight fell upon them. It was a good sized fish too. A little time passed before he hooked properly, then out went the line further and further j but gradually she reeled him in again, and ten minutes elapsed before the fish was sufficiently exhausted to be drawn towards the bank, where the gillie, who had seen the play, was anxiously waiting with his landing net. Just as it seemed possible to secure him, away went the trout again, and the coaxing process had all to be repeated. Jean's excitement was intense, she knew it was a big fish, and every moment made her more anxious to secure her prize. At last, oh joy of joys ! there it lay on the bank, a lovely trout, that turned the kitchen scales at a little under three pounds. As often happens, this first fish was the biggest catch of the day, but nearly four dozen smaller fry, averag- L 146 Wilton , Q.C. ing about two to the pound, were secured before the day's work was done. Poor Lorna was not very successful ; but she was most persevering, and her perseverance was rewarded by a couple of little trout. " That's my second," she exclaimed in an ecstasy of delight. " Oh ! Mistress Stracey, Mistress Stracey," said poor Angie, in a tone of great distress, " You've counted your fish, you'll catch no more." She had many more rises, but not being equal to the occasion, the trout rose and vanished with equal speed. It was a horrid day. The har of the morning had turned to rain, and when they reached the loch, it was only to find the water party had given up all attempt at fishing, and were sitting huddled together in their mackintoshes under soaking umbrellas. " I don't know what we are to do," said poor Jean, this is such an exposed place for luncheon, and the mist is so thick we cannot see the guns coming over the hill. The only thing I can suggest is, that we all go to Allan Macfarlane's croft, and have our meal there. What do you say, Angie ? " " I think that is a very good idea, Mem," replied the gillie. " Very well then, let us go on at once ; you can wait, Angie, till the Maister comes, and tell him where we are, and say we will have everything ready. I hope Trout. 147 you are not very wet, Mr. Wilton," she continued, " and that a further ride of a quarter of an hour will not be too much for you." 44 Oh, no," he replied, " the reward of luncheon at the end of it will make it appear as nothing, for I am very hungry." 44 Everyone is always hungry in the Highlands," said Jean, " and if they are not they ought to be." And the little party started for the croft. " How charming Miss Stracey looks to day," Wilton remarked to Bea, who was beside him. 44 Yes. Did you know her before you came here?" 44 No. I only met her once at dinner in Portman Square at the Fraser's. She is a very charming girl." 44 Yes, delightful," said Bea. " Such good style ; as Mr. Bagshot says, she always looks so thorough bred." "What is her father like?" asked Mr. Wilton, anxious to learn more particulars of the girl. 44 Mr. Stracey is just like Lorna, or I suppose I should say Lorna is like him. He is rich, and owns a lot of house property in town. He does nothing ; I don't think he ever did, but latterly he has been rather an invalid, and is now travelling with his delightful wife on the Continent drinking some nasty waters." "Has Miss Stracey only one brother? I have heard her speak of one." L 2 148 Wilton, Q.C. " No, she has two brothers, one at Cambridge, who talks of going into the Army, and one still at Eton. This is the first visit Lorna has ever paid alone, only Mrs. Stracey thought German water cures would be dull for her, and promised Jean she should come here instead. I think she is enjoying herself, don't you ? " . " Certainly. Miss Stracey seems to enjoy life generally, and to think all phases delightful/ ' " But there is lots in Lorna," continued Bea, " you know she is clever — much cleverer than Jean or I — we are half afraid of her sometimes," and she laughed a merry rippling laugh. "And why do you think her so clever?" asked Mr. Wilton. " Because she doesn't say much, but she looks lots ! Lorna is a strange girl," continued Bea, " she is reserved, very reserved, and often pretends to be cold and indifferent, but I am sure she is full of fire and romance." " Really." "Yes, and she will never be perfect till she is in love. That key will open the door of great possibilities." "Do you think so? Why?" 1 "Because," replied Bea, "like all these reserved people, once the flood gates are opened there is no staying the stream. All the pent-up feeling seeks an outlet, and Lorna would love deeply, devotedly, Trout. 1 49 madly, and be all the better and happier for the experience. " (< Perhaps ; but she may never meet the man who could work such marvels. " " Then she will never marry, and in a few years will devote herself to some great work, doctoring, she says, and all that reserved force will be thrown into her profession instead of being lavished on her husband and home. She will succeed ; but she will not be a perfect woman." " You seem to know Miss Stracey very well ? " " You see she is a great friend of my cousin's, who has a very different nature, and I note the contrast. Lorna has more character than Jean; and Lorna has always got the curb in her mouth." " And you think someone might take the reins then?" (< Yes — only by love though — real love, and then drive on to absolute happiness for both." " Mrs. Macfarlane, are you at home?" called Jean as they reached her plum-painted door, mellowed by years to a most artistic colour. The little brass knocker was shining brightly, and the doorstep was painted with that pale blue wash so loved by Highlanders. Mrs. Macfarlane was one of those women whose lives are spent in perpetual fight against dirt and disorder. When " cleaned up a bit," she sat down and contemplated her handiwork with keen satisfaction, until it was time 150 Wilton, Q.C. to begin the process again. Perpetually scrubbing, she enjoyed existence. " Are you at home, Mrs. Macfarlane ? u " Ay, Missie, that I am." " May we come into your kitchen ? " " Of course ye may, lassie, " said the old body, and she opened the door of her little abode with as much pride as though she had been a Queen. It was really more than a croft ; the Macfarlanes were good industrious people, whose ancestors had lived for generations on The Hirsel estate, so that their croft had in process of time become a small farm- house. The kitchen was bright and cheerful, with its clean fireside, where logs of wood and turfs of peat lay together on the stone flags, above which a great cauldron hung suspended from the crane. The roof was of rafters, and among the rafters were bobbins of wool, for the good housewife spun her own yarn. The place was spotlessly clean, the saucepans shining like mirrors, and evidence of good housewifely care met the eye everywhere. " What is that delicious smell ? " Lorna whispered to Jean. " Why, that is the ' peat reek' my dear; you saw those great blocks of black stuff outside the croft, didn't you ? Well, that is the peat from the bog, after being laboriously prepared for the fire, and it always gives forth that curious odour. I like it myself, perhaps because I am accustomed to it/ 1 Trout. I5i " Missie," murmured Mrs. Macfarlane into the girl's ear, " I knew something lovely was going to happen to us, because a white dove flew down the lum (chimney) the other day, and I've known good luck was in store for us ever since. Bless it ! and the luck has come." Mrs. Macfarlane was wonderfully kind and anxious to please. She bustled about, dusted the table and dresser, though not a speck of dust was to be seen, she took the wet mackintoshes and hung them in the outhouse, she spread Mr. Wilton's coat before the fire to dry, and then she exclaimed : " Ay, Missie, I must have known you were coming, for only this morning I baked a lot of oat cakes on the girdle, and IVe got some crowdie." " Oh, that's lovely ! " said Jean, clapping her hands. u Do you know, Mrs. Jackson, there is nothing more delicious in the whole world than Mrs. Macfarlane's oat cakes, and the crowdie is a sort of cream cheese." " Very good of you to say so, Missie, and I am right glad I have some by me." ■f Mrs. Jackson, only fancy, Mrs. Macfarlane once told me that she bakes beautiful round oat cakes, covered with egg -custard, at Beltane (May-day), for each of her children. But the bannocks must never be eaten till they have been rolled down a green slope on a hill. Those that roll to the bottom without breaking bring luck on the child who claims it for a year. Those that break, ill luck." 152 Wilt on, Q.C. Hardly had the words left her mouth than they heard the tramp of feet outside, and a hubbub of voices heralded the arrival of the guns. " Soaked ! Awful day ! Beastly weather ! Starving ! " were the ejaculations uttered by the party, as they shook their dripping caps and coats before entering the little stone-flagged kitchen. It was a tiny place, and chair accommodation being limited, some of the party had to sit on the dresser ; but it was warm and snug, and what seemed better than all the rest, it was thoroughly clean and dry. The walls were papered with old newspapers, which, according to the housewife's ideas, were cleaner and lighter than anything else, and could be easily mended and patched. " This is a very delightful way to spend one's holidays," Mr. Wilton said to his host. " It is a pity that more of the Highland Lairds cannot afford to live on their own properties. Were it not for the grouse and the possibility of letting the moors, many an owner would be utterly penniless/ ' replied Mr. Fraser. " Moorland itself is worth little, nor does it pay for reclaiming, as the late Duke of Sutherland learned to his cost. I believe he sank more than two hundred thousand pounds in reclaiming land, which never repaid him, nor is ever likely to repay his heirs. Well stocked with grouse, however, a moor lets splendidly, and returns a good income to its owner." Trout. 1 53 M About what rent is generally paid for a moor? " asked Wilton. " Well, it is difficult to say. Moorland as a rule costs the tenant about a shilling an acre, that is to say twenty-five thousand acres lets for shooting purposes for about twelve hundred pounds ; or, another way of calculating the cost, is to allow a pound or twenty-five shillings for every brace of birds shot, and the result would be very much the same. These are quite rough figures, and include the dogs and keepers and the tenant's shooting lodge." " It is a very expensive amusement, I see. But what matter ! The tenant and his friends have their sport, and are all the better for an invigorating holiday in moorland. And so this is a croft ? " he finished. " No, this is more than a croft." " Then what is a real croft ? " 11 It's rather difficult to say what a croft really is ; but, to give you an idea, a crofter is the occupier of a dwelling for which he pays rent varying from a few shillings up to ^30 per annum. Crofters are of two classes — those who have leases, and those who, up to the passing of the Crofters Act, were tenants at will, or yearly tenants. That Act was passed for the benefit of. the crofters who had no leases, and provided for a valuation of their holdings, and the fixing of a fair rent by a Crofters Commission which is still at work. The Crofters Act gives 154 Wilton, Q.C. security of tenure so long as the fair rent is paid, and confers on the holder the benefit of willing or bequeathing the croft to whom he or she pleases." I ■ And should there be no will ? " " Then the croft passes to the next-of-kin, like ordinary heritable property." " And does that always apply ? " II Only those who were bond-fide crofters at the passing of the Act get the benefit of it. Hence the agitation among lease crofters to have the Act so amended as to include crofters who have leases, and, therefore, cannot compel their landlord to reduce their rental." " And which are the best off ? " •• At one time crofters with leases were considered better off than those without them. But it is other- wise since the passing of the Crofters Act, about eight years ago ? " : " And don't you call crofters by any other name ? " asked Wilton, vaguely remembering having heard some other nomenclature. " Besides crofters there is another class called 1 cottars ' in many parts of the Highlands — in the western district and islands. ( Cottars ' are squatters who erect a house on a croft, and occupy a small patch of land, for which they may or may not pay a trifling rent in money, or kind, to the crofter on whose land they are. No provision is made for them in the Crofters Act. They are generally, Trout. 155 except in the case of tradesmen, carpenters, black- smiths, etc., very poor/' li What makes them cottars ? " M Sometimes a member of a crofter's family becomes a cottar on the croft — i.e., marries and builds a small house, and, in the course of time (generally on the death of the father or mother), the croft had to be divided between the son who lived with his parent and the son who had seceded, and for a time became a cottar. In this way a cottar might become a crofter. The Crofters Act will prevent further sub-division of crofts ; but the great crofting question cannot be dealt with in a few words." u No, I quite understand that," said Wilton, " but I wanted to hear your ideas on such an interesting subject." A peal of laughter rang through the kitchen. The military gentleman, who was always particularly well groomed, had been leaning against the fireplace, and turning round to pick up Mrs. Jackson's hand- kerchief, disclosed the whole expanse of his back covered with whitewash. Poor Captain Urquhart was much distressed, for there is nothing a masher dislikes so much as being laughed at ; he is as sensitive as a child, and has not the relief of tears. Bagshot was delighted at his discomfiture, so Bea went off to help him and soothe his ruffled feelings, a delicate act the gentleman seemed to appreciate 156 Wilton, Q.C. the more, because during the last few days Captain Urquhart had been coming to the conclusion that Bea Lempriere was a rattling good sort. " It is not raining now. Come and stroll," he said, " while I smoke a cigarette, will you ? " And she went. As they reached the back of the house they came upon a grazing cow, and round its leg was a sort of garter made of red listing. They wondered much what the sign meant, but came to no satisfactory conclusion, until Mrs. Macfarlane, who appeared round the house, enlightened them. " That cow gives no milk, and the red flannel is charmed and will bring the milk back again. " Heartily amused at the idea they sauntered on in silence till the Captain asked, " What do you think of Mrs. Jackson ? " " What a very pointed question. I think her very handsome, and she dresses faultlessly." " But what do you think of the woman herself ? " " I don't know much about her," the girl said, evading the question, " she is more communicative with your sex than with mine — so you ought to know more about the lady than I do." 11 Well, I'll be hanged if she doesn't fairly beat me. All I know is she is thoroughly out of place in the country, and looks ridiculous with her town ways among you jolly girls. I like widows as a rule, but Til be hanged if I can get on with her," and he put Trout. 157 his foot on the finished cigarette in order to extin- guish the light. " She is an awful flirt, and seems to live on admiration. " " Come, come, you must not talk like that — she is Jean's guest, and Jean is my cousin remember." . " Beg pardon, I'm sorry I spoke if you are offended, Miss Bea." Kept prisoners by the rain, Jean asked Mrs. Macfarlane to show her friends the hand-loom. " Yes, I will with pleasure, " she said, " but my boy is not at home, unless he has come back to the shed since you have been here," and as she spoke she opened the door of a little out-house, where a curious picture presented itself. In one corner of the room sat a funny-looking old woman, in a clean white " mutch " (cap), spinning yarn at her wheel, just as the young and fair Marguerite had once sat spinning and dreaming at her distaff in days gone by, but how different ! This old lady was bronzed and wrinkled, although time had dealt gently with her, for she was really close on ninety. She bade them all good day, and chatted pleasantly, spinning on so indefatigably the while, that in a few minutes she had filled one bobbin and begun another. The collie being assured of the visitors' good intentions, sat himself down at his mistress' feet, and laid his head upon her knee. Behind the old woman stood the warping frame, and on her right 158 Wilton, Q.C. the loom. Piled in a corner were the wools, and everything denoted a weaver's home ; even the basket was full of bobbins, and the rafters in the roof were filled with crottle, lichen and juniper, such simple articles being used for dying. But there was more than this in the rafters. Cackle, cackle, over their heads announced the joyful fact that a hen had laid an egg, and was cackling a boisterous intimation of the fact to all and sundry. Then down jumped a baby kitten from some unnoticed shelf, and disported itself among the bobbins. A happy family indeed ! " Will you tell us all about your weaving?" Jean said to their hostess, " it would interest my friends very much, as they have never seen a hand-loom at work before." Hardly had she uttered her request before Mrs. Macfarlane's son, the weaver, entered the room through the little door. Jean warmly shook him by the hand and said, " My friends are all much interested in your weaving." 11 It must be very nice work," said Lorna. " Oh, yes, it is," he answered, u there is always something new in weaving. It is pleasant, puzzling out the new patterns." " Do you do that yourself ? " " Yes, I copy others too; but I often find out new ones for myself." " Now tell my friends exactly how you weave, Trout, 1 59 please," said Jean to the lad, who coloured to the roots of his hair, and in a shy way began : " First of all we buy the raw wool from the farmers. It costs from fourpence to one shilling a pound, according to its quality ; for different wools are employed for different cloths. It then has to be thoroughly washed, and when quite dry is teazled and carded. " " What is ' teazled ? ■ asked Lorna, interrupting him. 11 It is really a kind of combing out, so that instead of being matted it is quite light and fluffy. After that, it has to be twisted or spun by a foot spinning wheel into yarn ; the yarn is then sent away to the crofters in the mountains to be dyed," " How do the crofters dye it ? and with what ? " M Heather is the chief dye," he replied, " heather makes the wool light yellow, to which indigo blue is added to make green. The lichen moss, crotal, dyes a yellowy brown colour, and the granite stone moss gives a much richer shade of brown." 11 And are those all the dyes you have ? ,J enquired Sir Laurence. " They are the principal ones used, and with them we can produce many varieties of colour, according to the strength employed. When we get the wool back, my old grandmother makes it up into bobbins such as you see, ready for weaving. The bobbins i6o Wilton, Q.C. are all placed in rows on this warping frame, according to the pattern required. " " How do you mean ? " ." The patterns are really made up by the arrange- ment of the bobbins before the wool ever gets to the loom." " Does it take a long time to arrange the bobbins ? " " It takes about three hours to place them properly ; but when once they are in the loom I can weave an ell in less than an hour, or about a yard and a half an hour." " What are you doing now?" queried Jean. "This is a shepherd's tartan. It has only eight threads. There are four white, two blue, and one brown." " Can you show us how you do it ? " asked Jean. M These threads are all taken up together, and stretched right across the warping stakes in their proper order. Once the threads are all arranged they have to be placed in the loom separately. Then they are divided into a higher and lower half, and subdivided for the shuttle to pass through. These divisions are moved up and down by the foot pedal, and the shuttle then returns through a different line of threads." 11 What a fearful number of times the shuttle must have to pass through the threads in order to weave a yard ! " cried Lorna aghast. " It is certainly interest- ing work to watch, and the loom itself is intricate." Trout. 161 " Too intricate to attempt to understand or explain thoroughly/' answered the poor lad, who had become quite excited over his description. 11 Does weaving pay ? " " It would not pay at all if it were not for the Inverness Industrial Exhibition. All these things are going there. I hope to sell them and get some orders for more. A royal princess — a real princess — bought a dress of my tweed last year. Fancy, a royal princess ! " Although she was not a royal princess, Lorna delighted his heart by buying a dress, too, and ordered another length of material to be woven for her. " He can weave anything, copy anything, whatever the pattern and whatever the thickness, provided it is not over forty-six inches wide, " said Jean, quite proud of her weaver boy, " and as you see, with a little skill much variety may be produced, even from a simple cottage loom." When they turned from the little " housie " the old body left her bobbins to drop them all a curtsey, and as they walked away the young man was profuse in his thanks the while he jingled gold in his hand. " There are only a few crofter weavers in all Invernesshire and Sutherlandshire," said Mr. Fraser, " although a few more are employed at the mills. It is a healthy trade, and requires some exercise of mental power to think out and arrange the patterns. M 1 62 Wilton, Q.C. Weavers are not mere machines. In spite of their simple life and isolation they are a wonderfully well- educated class, and they deserve encouragement. It is a pity to let any old custom or trade die out." " A great effort is being made to revive the Spitalfields silk industry in London/' remarked Wilton. " At the beginning of the century I believe there were 30,000 weavers there. Now there are only a couple of hundred, and the silk-weaving trade has gone chiefly to France." " Yes," said Jean, a thoroughly practical girl at heart, " if every British woman were to buy Spital- fields silk, Irish poplins, or Scotch tweeds she would confer an inestimable boon on our working classes. If our weavers are not given a helping hand soon they will entirely forget their art, and, once forgotten, it cannot easily be re-learnt ; consequently every effort should be made to preserve hand-weaving, if only from a sentimental feeling. But there is more than sentiment in this matter ; it has also its practical side. Hand-weaving keeps money in the country, the materials used are purer and more last- ing, people of all ages can work in their own homes, and many are employed who would otherwise be out of work and have nothing to do." 11 Well done Miss Fraser/' cried Lance Wilton, 11 it is quite a treat to hear you talk. Machinery is creeping in upon us on every side, and the old industries of the people are entirely disappearing. Trout. 163 As you say, it would be a great pity if such old hand-looms as we have seen to-day should vanish entirely. They are a link with the past, so rapidly slipping away from us. They do give employment to the aged in their own homes, and to many people who could not trudge daily to work at a factory/' "Yes," broke in Jean, "and what is more, the hand-loom employs the whole family, instead of its male members only. Also the goods turned out from these looms are made from pure wool, and wear three times, aye, six times as long as machine-made goods. As soon as we get machine weaving we get inferior material mixed with the wool." " Why, Miss Fraser," cried Wilton, " you have made quite a speech, and one that many a man might be proud of." The girl blushed deeply at the mere suggestion of a speech, and replied, " I only said what I felt, you know I am a Highland girl, and I can realise what hand-loom weaving is to crofters who cannot make their land pay, and have to emigrate in greater numbers year by year to escape starvation. Good- bye, Mrs. Macfarlane." " Good-bye, Missie. Aye, Mem, please to step out with your right foot first, and then you'll have good luck, it always brings it, sure." ' Miss Fraser, do you know I found a sprig of white heather on the moor the other day," said Sir Laurence, waiting beside Jean, who had stopped to M 2 1 64 Wilton, Q.C. gather some heather and bracken, which she wanted for one of the vases at the hall. " That will bring you luck, to quote Mrs. Macfar- lane," she said. " I hope so, but I have much more faith in your bringing me good luck than the heather." Jean looked up to learn whether he were joking ; but seeing that the usually gay face was quite grave, her eyes fell. She continued to pick more bracken. The young couple had dropped behind the whole party, as they had done on more than one occasion previously. " I am not much of a chap," he continued after a pause, " I have no profession, only my property to keep me employed. I can hunt, and shoot, and all that sort of thing, because I have had nothing else to do, and could devote the greater part of my life to it, so it would be rather disgraceful if I weren't a bit of a sportsman in the end. But otherwise I'm not much of a fellow, and yet I dare to — to — to love you, Miss Fraser — Jean. May I call you Jean ? " he exclaimed, seizing her hand, still busy arranging the large bunch of bracken, which half screened her face. " Oh ! Sir Laurence ! " As if unheeding this exclamation he stroked her hand. " Dear little hand," he continued. " You have the smallest and prettiest hands and feet, Jean, IVe ever Trout. 165 seen, and you are just the dearest little girl in all the world. Oh ! Jean, can you love a great lumbering, useless fellow like me ? And Jean, can you — will you be my wife ? " In silence the girl walked on, quickening her pace at every step ; hardly knowing what she was doing she walked on faster and faster, speaking never a word. Mist covered the hills ; but even a greater mist covered her vision. " Jean, Jean darling! don't run away from me. Say that you love me just a little ; say I may wait for you ; say something to me, Jean ! " And the tell-tale veins in his forehead throbbed an accom- paniment to his deep emotion. " Oh, darling, say you will be my wife ! " For the baronet it was a moment of intense anxiety. Was his whole future not dependent on the girl's reply? The big man trembled from head to foot ; every pulse in his body throbbed ; all the passion of his life stirred him at that moment. And yet so different were her emotions, the girl, as if paralysed of speech, answered nothing. It was a time of bitter tension for both. Her walk almost became a run. A great lump had risen in her throat ; her tongue seemed parched ; but words came not. He could stand it no longer. Rushing forward 1 66 Wilton, Q.C. and taking her in his big strong hands, he implored her to speak to him. " This suspense will kill me ! he exclaimed. " Say you love me, Jean ! " So low, it was almost inaudible, she murmured " Yes." He didn't ask for anything more. With a joyous laugh he caught her in his arms and pressed impassioned kisses on her lips, crying exultantly at intervals, " My darling ! my darling ! " • His face was radiant with happiness. Poor Jean, who had never been kissed by a man before, except her father, or her absent brother, then shooting in Canada, was covered with confusion. She felt quite bewildered. What had she said ? What had she done ? How had the whole thing come about ? She did not know ; she could not tell. She only understood that this dull world had suddenly changed to fairyland ; the cold, wet rain to brilliant sunshine ; the dripping mackintoshes to silken gauze ; and the sodden ground to a path of roses. The little wet bluebells raised their heads and smiled upon the lovers as they passed. CHAPTER VIII. "A HIGHLAND CHARACTER." THE girls went for a drive. Jean had several things to see about prior to the arrival of other friends, who were coming for a couple of days' big shoot, and never had arrangements seemed so irksome as they did that day to the deeply in love and newly-engaged little lady, who looked years younger in her happiness. M Do you know/' she confided to her companions, " I think I am the luckiest girl in the world. Laurence is just the dearest fellow possible, and everything seems quite different since he told me he loved me. Oh, I do wish you were both engaged — it's just the sweetest thing possible." " Well, it is very sad for us ; Lorna and I feel dejected old maids," laughed Bea, " and I think we had better begin and make love to one another in sheer desperation — eh, Lorna? " " You tease ; but I suppose I deserve it, and somehow I don't seem to mind anything now I know Laurence cares." u But what about your arrangement for the folk 1 68 Wilton, Q.C. who are coming to-day ? Have you forgotten them, mine hostess ? " " Oh, no. But I can't put everyone up," she said to Lorna, as they were driving with Bea to the station to fetch some fish, u so I am going to send a couple of men, Hugh and Mr. Bagshot probably, to the Robertsons' cottage to sleep, and Mrs. Robertson herself is such a treat you will enjoy seeing her." 11 Who and what is she ? " the London girl asked, for the Highland folk interested her strangely, with their quaint manners and blunt good-nature. " She's one of the characters of the neighbour- hood, " replied Jean. " The last time I saw her she was in awful distress. The dog had been howling all night and her husband had seen a magpie fly over the house, so she was certain some death was imminent, poor old lady." " And did anyone die ? " " No, not that I know of. She thinks dogs have precognitions. When people play at cards, if a dog is seen under the table, Mrs. Robertson tells me, it is a sign that they must at once stop. The dog has cloven hoofs, and it is a sure proof that the devil is tempting them to perdition. If dogs bay at the moon it means ill-luck. And in this neigh- bourhood pigs, sheep or cattle are never slaughtered at the wane of the moon." 11 But," said Lorna, " there are lots of supersti- tions everywhere connected with the moon. In " A Highland Character" 169 many parts of the world it is supposed to be unlucky to look at the new moon through glass." 11 In the Highlands any unusual event/ ' Jean continued, " such as the falling of a star, or a meteor, or any uncommon lunar effect, is looked upon as the passing of some illustrious spirit to eternity. Daddy says this curious idea no doubt finds its origin in the old Druid belief that souls ascended to heaven in a meteor/' The Northern Lights in Greenland, Nansen says, are supposed by the Eskimo to be the souls of still- born children, or those born prematurely, or killed (which is often done in the case of weaklings) after birth. These souls take each other's hands, and dance around in mazy circles. This notion of the Greenlanders seems to be closely related to the Indian belief that the " Northern Lights" are the dead in dancing array. "Mrs. Robertson always reminds us of a mediaeval saint in a stained-glass window," remarked the girl, whipping up her smart little pony. " She is one of those very respectable, middle-aged bodies, with whom time has dealt kindly, her face still retaining the fresh bloom of youth, although her figure has become extravagant, as the figures of middle-aged dames are apt to do." " She has the prettiest hands in the world," put in Bea, who had an eye for the beautiful, " small and shapely, with lovely tapering fingers such as Van 170 Wilton, Q.C. Dyck delighted to paint, dimpled at the knuckles like babies' hands. She is only the wife of a village innkeeper, if we may honour her residence with the name of Inn, but her hands are white and soft, and just what hands should be. She has a curious way of folding them in front of her, hasn't she, Jean ? The two thumbs join, and she clasps the remaining fingers exactly like the hands of the saints in the church windows. So I've nicknamed her the mediaeval saint." " It's very naughty of Bea, for she really is rather a saint in her own way, you know." " The first time I called at the cottage with Jean the blinds were all down," continued Bea. " It was about eleven o'clock, the least busy hour of the day at the Inn. I lifted the little brass knocker, shining in the sun, and gave a noisy rat, tat, tat. No one answered, and I was turning away in despair to join Jean in the cart, wondering why the blinds were drawn, when the latch was quietly pulled back, the door gently opened, and out peeped the face of Mrs. Robertson's niece, a quiet, unassuming girl of about forty. ' Aye, Mistress Lempriere, is it you ? ' she said, in her queer Highland drawl. " ( Yes, Miss Fraser wants to see Mrs. Robertson/ " ' Uncle and aunt are at their devotions. They never let anything disturb them, so would you and Mistress Fraser please to call again ? ' It was a cool way of giving me my conge, but know- "A Highland Character." 171 ing no offence was meant, I meekly departed, and Jean and I had a good laugh over our rebuff." The niece was right. Nothing and nobody was allowed to interfere with the Robertsons' " devotions." Uncle, aunt, nephew and niece held a regular service every morning and evening of their lives, singing the psalms and reading the Scriptures for at least half-an-hour. This was not done for show, it even interfered with Mr. Robertson's business at the little bar, and his wife's as a lodging house keeper (she let rooms to gentlemen) ; but in real, honest religion, they found consolation for any worldly loss ! " Here is the Inn," cried Jean, " and now you will see real characters in Innkeeper Robertson and his spouse." " Well, Mrs. Robertson, how are you?" she went on as that lady appeared. 11 Very well, thank you, Missie, and you yoursel' look so beautiful ; if I may take the liberty of speaking, you must have been up the hill in the early morn and washed your face with the dew. You do look fresh and bonnie." And the good soul as she spoke dropped a little curtsey. Mrs. Robertson was a comely body. A large, black straw bonnet, with a heavy jet border, came right down over her ears, and resting on a black velvet band across her hair were some wonder- ful violets and purple pansies. The hair itself was the most marvellous part of the whole ; continuous 172 Wilton, Q.C. brushing had thinned the raven locks, which looked as though they were glued to her head, they were so profusely oiled. She wore it down in a kind of swoop over her ears, and the little bob screwed up behind was completely covered by the black lace curtain that fell from her bonnet. She wore a black cashmere dress, the only garment she considered compatible with her dignity, and across her shoulders a triangular prune coloured crochet shawl. But her apron was spotless, and her shiny red cheeks reminded the girl of a fresh apple. She dressed to please her husband she said, as all good wives ought to do. Had she been a widow she would probably have donned a close fitting white cap tied under her chin, and a long black- hooded cloak, something like that Sisters of Mercy wear. " Have you got the rooms ready for my two gentlemen ?" " Aye, that I have. How are you, Mistress Bea ? M she exclaimed, M I'm right glad to see your cheery face again. " " I'm very well, thank you, I hope you are the same/' answered Bea, with so much cordiality that the mediaeval saint nodded delighted. " And may your gentlemen be comfortable, Mistress Jean, in our little cottage whateffer/' she drawled. " We think it very kind of the likes of your friends to come and live in our little homes, 11 A Highland Character" 1 73 when they've grand houses o' their own. I've got a bath, Mem, for your gentlemen.'' " Oh, but they will want one each." " Will they? One each, Mistress Jean? Dearie me ! " and Mrs. Robertson's hands dropped in despair, and the smile left her face. " Yes, they must each have a cold bath every morning." " Aye, but what people you gentle folk are for washing. It's only since such folks as you have spoken about it that we have got a bath at a' at a'." " Well, we must get another somehow," said Jean. " All mine will be in use, I'm afraid, we are so fearfully packed for the concert and our big shoot ; one thing however is certain, we must have a second bath." u Nay ; but ye canna." " The second man must have a tub or something," persisted Jean. "A tub!" 11 Yes, a tub, anything large that he can splash about in," said the little housekeeper. " Aye, dearie me, two baths, weel a weel ! I've got a washing tub, Mem, but it's no for the likes of gentlefolk." However, into the washing tub every morning gentleman number two had to go, much to the old lady's consternation. She and her house were spotlessly clean, little 174 Wilton, Q.C. bags of lavender scented the drawers, but a bath was an almost unheard of article of bedroom furniture. She was a good old soul, and when Bagshot and Hugh came home every evening she rushed out of the kitchen and lighted their candles, and after escorting them upstairs, patted and smoothed their beds, and as they put the matter " literally tucked us up every night." She left all sorts of good books, such as Baxter's "Saints' Rest," "The Ten Years' Conflict," and a Bible beside their beds, with markers in some of the pages. According to her lights she was a really good woman. Once she said to Jean with a grand air of virtue, " I never cook anything on Sunday, Mem." "Don't you? I find I am just as hungry on Sunday as on any other day," but poor Mrs. Robertson looked so distressed, the girl refrained from pursuing the subject. There was to be a concert in a neighbouring village in aid of a fund for the purchase of a harmonium. This village, besides having a Free Kirk, possessed an Established Church, the less severe congregation of which was desirous of having a musical service, and as Jean and her party were going to assist by singing, playing, and recitation, it was a very great event indeed, and the country houses in the neighbourhood were filled for the occasion. " Are you going to the concert on Thursday?" "A Highland Character!' 175 was a natural question from the girl, who had taken such an active part in its organization. " Nae, Mistress Jean/' said the mediaeval saint, shaking her head, " nae, dearie, I'm not." " I'm going to sing something myself/' put in Bea. 11 Aye, so Pve heard, but I could na' go to a concert got up to pay for a harmonium, Mem. Nae, nae, I could na' go whateffer." " Why ? Don't you approve of harmoniums?" asked Lorna, who had not yet realized the severity of the Presbyterian Church or its austerity. Mrs. Robertson's eyes opened, she turned quite pale, and looked as if she were going to drop. " Indeed, Mem, I don't. I think it's just awfu' to praise God with such machines." Somewhat taken aback at the mediaeval saint's defiant and horrified air, Lorna asked her if she had ever heard a harmonium. i( Nae, Mem, and the Lord forbid I ever should ! " M But if you've never heard or seen one, how can you know that it's so fearful ? " persisted the much astonished Lorna. 11 It's no releegion, and I know it's wrong. You know I was just brought up to think so, Mistress Jean," she said turning to her Laird's daughter. 11 But do you still believe everything you were brought up to think ? " asked Jean quietly, for the first time taking part in the discussion. " Of course I do, the Lord help me ! " 176 Wilton, Q.C. u But if you were brought up to be a thief, and you were afterwards told it was wrong to be a thief, what would you think then ? " asked Bea, rather pleased at her question. u Ah ! that's different, Mem ; but in all spiritual things, I think what I was brought up to think." " That is like the Roman Catholics, they are not allowed to think for themselves, u Lorna could not resist saying, and then she felt sorry, for the poor old soul looked terribly distressed. 11 Pray don't, Mem, speak o' those iniquitous people the Catholics in this housed Mrs. Robertson en- treated, and a tear lurked in the corner of her eye, " if it was the missionaries now, God bless them ! " " Why ? Do you think they do so much good ? " " Deed yes, Mem, among those poor heathen blacks ! " " But tell me," asked Bea, reverting to the original question, " why won't you come to our concert? " " Because I think it's wrong, Mem ; the concert is wrong, and the object is wrong ; may the Lord take pity on the souls of them that has to do with such things ! It's no releegion." " But why wrong ! " exclaimed Lorna. " Surely you remember that David and all the house of Israel played before the Lord on all manner of instru- ments, even on harps, psalteries, timbrels, cornets, and on cymbals, and ( David danced before the Lord " A Highland Character." 177 with all his might.' You believe in the Bible, don't you?" " But our blessed Lord did not sing and dance, and I've been brought up to think it's wrong," per- sisted the kindly woman. " I'd like to see you do anything, Mistress Jean, for you have a good heart, and you've helped many a one in the parish that needed help ; but na, na, no harmoniums for me, and no concerts whateffer." " I do think," said Jean, " that when we and our visitors give our services ungrudgingly to every charity that requires help in this neighbourhood, the people about might accept that disinterested kind- ness, and show their appreciation by giving us their support." " That's a very fine way to talk ; but it's not the way we were brought up, you see," and Mrs. Robertson lifted the corner of her apron and tucked it into her band. " No, because you all want to learn one great lesson, and that is toleration," cried Bea, really angry that her cousin's help should not be received gratefully. " There are as good Roman Catholics as you, as good Jews as you, as good Buddhists as you ; it is not the religion, it is the lives of the people themselves." The girl had waxed quite warm. 11 There is no releegion, Mem," was the calm reply, " no true releegion by which souls can be saved, but the Presbyterian releegion." N 178 Wilton, Q.C. " What a sad belief, what an awful idea, to think that only a mere handful in the whole world have any chance of salvation/' said Bea, who was accustomed to work in her father's parish at home, but had never met anyone like this before. " Yes," continued the old body, " ours is the releegion, and all this music and dancing is just awfu', awfu' ! " " But in your religion you like things to be perfect, don't you? The more perfect the life, the more akin to true religion," persisted Bea. " Of course, of course." • " Well, then, surely a whole congregation kept in tune by the help of a beautiful organ, sings more perfectly than a congregation that sits down and moans and sighs, and sings as it pleases." " I don't think so ; but it's just the way I was brought up, you see." " Do you approve of the whisky-drinking and drunkenness that goes on in Scotland, Mrs. Robert- son?" " Nae, Mem, it's verra sad." " Why do they drink so much?" persisted Bea. "Well, Mem, sure I don't know; they don't seem to have anything else to do," owned the old body. "Ah, there is the mischief," said Bea, " they've nothing to do. Their homes are so melancholy, they drown the weariness with a dram. The young men go to the public house for cheery company, or "A Highland Character" 179 stand idle at the street corners and gossip ; in gossip and drink they spend their evenings, for want of something better to do. Have concerts," persisted the girl, who was accustomed to organize them at home. u Let the men and girls learn glees and part songs. Have dances now and again. Have bazaars for charity, and let your village folk work for them — carve wood, sew, paint, learn brass- work, anything and everything in fact to beautify their houses and employ their time, and they will cease to drink and gossip, and become all the better men and women for the change. " " Aye, Mem, I know you're a good young woman, and it does my heart good to hear ye talk ; but I canna agree wi' ye a bittie." "Well, you own that I am not an utter sinner; yet, do you know, I dance whenever I get the chance, I go to the theatre whenever I can, I even act privately sometimes, I play the piano on Sunday, I do many things that you think most awful, but strange to say, I don't feel wicked at all, and Miss Fraser even thinks me rather good. I feel quite good myself, and still I lead a very cheerful, happy life, which in itself you think is absolutely wrong." Mrs. Robertson did not know what to say when she saw the kind, good, earnest face before her. " Teach your young women to be happy, too. Don't tell them that eternal damnation stares them in the face when they smile and joke; tell them that N 2 180 Wilton, Q.C. gossip and idleness and whisky-drinking are the sins to avoid. My father always says that honest amuse- ment is as necessary to a healthy mind as exercise is to a healthy body." M Aye, Mem, I like to hear you talk, but ye see we were brought up to think these things wrong." " Yes, unfortunately you were ; but you must learn to be tolerant towards people who think otherwise, even if you cannot be lenient to yourself. The fact is," she continued, a smile overspreading her face, " all you Scotch Presbyterians need a real good shake, and those that want the most shaking are the sanctimonious old elders." w Aye, Mistress Lempriere, Mistress Lempriere, ye must na' talk like that, Mem," said the saint, waving her pretty hands in the air, " my husband is an elder ! " " Well, he wants a shake like the rest, I dare say, and you can tell him all Pve said ; now good-bye, I hope I haven't shocked you dreadfully." u No, Mem, I can't agree wi' ye a bittie; but you have na' shocked me, and I don't mind listening to all the awfu' things you've said, because I know, after all, you're a good lassie." " Wouldn't you have listened to them from a stranger, then?" asked Jean, surprised at her cousin's daring. 11 No, the Lord forbid, Meadail" (my dear). 11 There is another of your prejudices you see," 11 A Highland Character." 181 said Bea ; "you rail at things chiefly because you know nothing about them, and you can't and won't go and see for yourself, because you were \ just brought up that way.' " Jean really felt sorry to see the poor old body's distress, and to change the subject said kindly : " Shall I tell you a great big secret, Mrs. Robertson ? " " Aye, dearie, do." "Well," said Jean, the colour rising to her cheeks, " should you be very surprised if I told you of an engagement ? " " Surprised, no, I should be real glad. God smiles on matrimony and blesses it." " Would you be surprised if I told you of my engagement?" the girl said almost shyly. " God bless you, Missie," and the old body opened her arms, and in the ardour of the moment embraced her Laird's daughter. She did not kiss her, but her enthusiasm was so great, she literally folded her in her arms against her portly figure, repeating again and again, " God bless you, Missie." Poor "Missie" was pleased and surprised at these enthusiastic congratulations, which she felt were from the heart, and worth hundreds of pretty society speeches. " But, Missie, I hope he's a holy man?" Lorna really did not think the term "holy man" exactly applied to Sir Laurence Cave, but she dare 1 82 Wilton, Q.C. not even smile. Jean was relieved from replying, for the old body continued : " A minister I once knew was very like your good gentleman in appearance, Mem. He was a godly man, he was, and I laid great store by his sayings, for he had been brought up amongst very intelligent Christians, and was very sound in the doctrines." u Well, I hope Sir Laurence may satisfy you equally well. I think him a dear, any way. " " I'm right glad, Mistress Jean, an' I only hope he's a holy man, dearie." As the girls left they shook hands with the good old soul, whom they considered as much mistaken in her ideas, as she felt certain they were in theirs. She was one of the narrow-minded, prejudiced old Highland bodies still left ; kind-hearted, honest and good, but beautifully bigoted in her ideas. Time changes all customs, and also the thoughts of the peasantry, which are as much the landmarks of a nation's history as the old castles, the churches, and the tombs. Alas ! the intercourse of civilization is rapidly bringing us all to one level. How can it be otherwise, when thoughts fly round the world by electricity, when there is practically one language for commerce, when the fashions for dress all emanate from one centre ? Society generally is regulated by one code of manners ; the poor ape the rich ; the uneducated follow the better informed, and thus the same " A Highland Character!' 183 manners, ways, speech and customs must eventually become universal. Therefore we cling all the more persistently to the old fashions that are still amongst us, probably because we realise how rapidly they are slipping away. Thank goodness, Scotland still retains some of her old customs, more particularly in the Highlands, where there is a tendency to isolation, and the steam monster of civilization has not completed its levelling work. Many of the districts are so far removed from contact with the busy world, that the country folk jog along in much the same way that they did a century ago, with a dogged adherence to their old routine. Scotland as a rule is Radical in politics ; but it is most Conservative in custom, the influence of the Celt being manifest at every turn. In the more remote regions superstition is rife. Many of the old wives believe in the " spae wife" or witch, although the younger generation, now being educated in the schools, are rapidly beginning to regard all trafficking in the black art as imposture. The Highlanders still have a very strong belief in fairies ; but they are not alone in this, for the Welsh, the Manx, the Irish, the Bavarian and Norwegian peasants are all strongly imbued with the belief, for good or ill, in the fairy sprite. The origin of fairy superstitions is said to be Celtic ; among Celtic 1 84 Wilton, Q.C. peoples, even to this day, it is half whispered that " Oberon and Titania" hold their courts, where the bright green rings are found in the meadow grass. Mushrooms often grow near these emerald rings, which, doubtless, has something to do with the superstitions so common about them, that, in the Isle of Man (where they are often as large as a soup plate), they are called " fairy mushrooms." The fairy is supposed to sing, so the old song goes : " On the top of the mushroom's head My table cloth I'll neatly spread, And with the heads of worms and marrow of mites Will make a glorious feast to-night." The u sithiche," or fairy, is the most active sprite in mythology. It is a dexterous child-stealer, and must be carefully guarded against. At a birth, many covert and cunning ceremonies are still used to baffle the fairies' power, otherwise the new-born child would be taken off to fairyland, and a withered little baby, a veritable living skeleton, laid in its stead. The Rev. Alexander MacGregor, in his " Highland Superstitions, " tells of an old man in Skye who believed so firmly in fairies that in his Gaelic grace every day he said : " Oh ! Blessed One, provide for us and help us, and let not Thy grace fall on us like the rain drops on the back of a grey goose. When a man is in danger on the point of a promontory of the sea, do Thou succour him, and be about us and with us on dry land. Preserve the aged and the young, our wives and our "A Highland Character" 185 children, our sheep and our catties, from the power and dominion of the fairies, and from the malicious effects of the evil eye. Let a straight path be before us, and a happy end to our journey." It is no marvel that the Highlanders should be superstitious, believers in fairies and wraiths, and all kinds of uncanny folk, when one considers the sort of existence they lead. The crofts are often miles and miles apart, on lonely moors, and occasionally there is only one occupant. He or she live alone in the gigantic solitude of a Highland moor, surrounded by hills and crags, the only cry that rends the air being that of the grouse or eagle, with the occasional bleat of the sheep. The crofter lives alone, with his superstitions for companions ; and in the evenings, in his dimly- lighted little house, where probably his only illumi- nation is the lurid flame of the peat fire, giving forth its pleasant but foggy " peat reek," he sits, and half blinded by the smoke, thinks and dreams. He probably cannot read, and even if he can, he has little or nothing to peruse, and the small events of the day or night become magnified by being dealt upon unduly, until the fairies become his only friends and companions, and the supernatural and uncanny takes a terrific hold upon him. Sometimes a friend from a neighbouring croft comes for a gossip, and the two sit over the peat fire drinking whisky in honour of the visit, until their brains reel and their eyes are bleared as they weave 1 86 Wilton, Q.C. tangled incongruous stories out of the flames and see weird faces in the ascending smoke. Each has a more wonderful story than the other to relate, and when the hour for parting arrives, they are excited and their brain imaginative. The one goes out into the dark night, where every sound seems to him as the murmur of fairies, or as the wind howls through the crags, he thinks he hears the witches or even the devil himself brooding evil. Such narrow lives feast upon the old superstitions of their forefathers, and harbour that love of the uncanny so absorbing to most minds. Each district has its own favourite superstitions they swarm in the Highlands, where some of the folk hold that material phenomena influence men's fate, and many a man's destiny has been altered by the belief in the supernatural, for most superstitions if dwelt upon have a disastrous effect on the human mind. CHAPTER IX. " PARTRIDGES." " Not this morning, dear," Mr. Fraser said to his daughter. u I want my men to shoot straight, for really Jean, lately, we have been , making very bad bags." " All right, daddy, we'll stop at home and sigh, and do whatever women folk ought to do when deprived of the delightful society of men ! " " Naughty little puss." " We will try to survive your absence, won't we, Lorna, although it will be very hard work, Daddy dear," and the little girl stood on tiptoe, and pulled the tall bared head down to be kissed. " Jean, I'll trim that hat this morning for you," said Lorna, as the two walked off together. " All right, dear, and help me with those awful accounts. I do hate accounts," said the little housewife. " Yes ; we can have a real busy morning. I'll trim the hat first ; I've got a splendid idea for it, and then we will do accounts afterwards." And away they went, determined to be very busy. 1 88 Wilton, Q.C. It was the First of September. The corn was cut in some of the fields, and the weather had taken a turn for the better. Thousands of men are able to enjoy partridge shooting who could not afford to shoot grouse or deer. Partridges rear themselves, so to speak, and, given fine weather when young, they manage very well. Besides, they do not require forests or moors all to themselves ; but live on land employed for agricultural purposes, which does, or at least ought to, pay its owner. On large areas of land, partridges thrive well ; therefore, after rabbit, partridge shooting is the most general. It having been decided that the ladies should have a day off, the men, in company with Donald and a few beaters, started by themselves. The first march was across an enormous turnip field, which proved very disagreeable walking, for turnips have a knack of harbouring drops 6f rain among their leaves. It was a very stiff tramp, and required a good deal of energy. " Buckskin gaiters," as Bagshot put it, " are a damned sight better than anything else for these rough expeditions, as they resist the wet effectually/' When the party arrived at the turnip-field, the dogs were given the wind, which is to say they scampered in the direction from which it blew. They went to work in much the same way as they u Partridges r 189 did for grouse. The air felt sharp, although the sun shone brilliantly ; but the first chill of autumn was at hand. The men were arranged in line, a beater between each gun, so as to spread over the whole length of the field, which they crossed later at an angle. Once in their places — almost before they were in their places indeed — there was a point, and a covey of ten or twelve birds rose quickly, nearly under the foot of Sir Laurence, who was the right hand gun. As the covey swerved a little to the left, each of the guns got a shot in turn ; and when the birds were picked up, three brace were put into the bag — not a bad beginning for four guns. This luck did not continue however. Two coveys rose almost out of range, and in consequence only one brace was secured. The pointers worked splendidly. What a treat it is to see dogs work well ! Shooting over dogs seems much more interesting than blazing away at driven birds. Out of the field of turnips, where several brace were (( walked up," the sportsmen struggled over a high stone wall with barbed wire as a " top-up/' then into a cornfield, where some stooks not yet carried were standing, from beneath which one or two brace were secured. " This short stubble really forms no shelter for the birds/ 1 said Mr. Fraser to his future son-in-law, " but it is easier walking than turnips for an old fellow like me." 190 Wilton, Q.C. " I'll be hanged if I don't agree," put in Bagshot. "Anyone might beat me by a length over those turnips ; though I'll take a handicap over stubble, by Jove." They did not remain in the stubble very long, however, but reserving that sort of field for later in the day, when about feeding time the birds are usually pretty plentiful under the stooks, they passed on to a potato field still in bloom, from which emanated that curious smell so detested by farmers. The large covey that had risen in the turnips and got safely away had been marked down to the potatoes, and the party were now in pursuit ; but unfortunately the birds did not take wing. Then " untidy walking " supervened, through gorse, and broom, and brambles, flanked by bracken, from the midst of which a covey rose, probably the same they had seen half an hour previously. Fewer birds got away than took wing. The next find chanced to be a few " cheepers," or young birds, too young to be shot, consequently, turning to the right, the party entered another field. " This is where we drive them later on," Mr. Fraser said, " there is one of the butts., but it is not a good partridge country even for driving." They had hardly shut the gate behind them when, probably hearing the click of the rusty bolt, another covey of ten birds took wing, and, as ill-luck would have it, flew directly over the heads of the guns. Down crouched the men, who were a little behind, Pa rtridges . , * 191 almost level with the ground, as the birds passed over them. It was an exciting moment. The return- ing shot fell like rain among the party. Some would say that must have been very dangerous, but no one was touched, and the only trouble lay in the fact that several of the birds got away, because the guns had to be very careful that while hitting their game they did not shoot their friends. Nothing further was secured in that field, and some whins had to be walked through to reach the next. Whins (gorse) have an uncomfortable knack of penetrating knicker- bockers or short skirts, and they prick terribly ; almost as badly as stinging nettles. Intermixed with the whins was broom, above Avhich the men's heads only just appeared, it had grown so tall, standing in many places seven or eight feet high. They had good luck by u wheeling " in a large clover field, where the scent of the bloom was delightful. The birds rose well against the wind, and " mark over " was no unusual sound, so the retrievers were kept busily employed. They returned to the ground where the covey had taken wing out of shot before finishing for the day, for partridges have a strange habit of returning to the spot where they were originally disturbed, and, true to tradition, the party there found them, and added them to the larder. On their way home, the bag being insufficient, for the country was not really good for partridges, 192 Wilton, Q.C. Mr. Fraser had arranged to have a " battue' • at the rabbits. No day's shooting seems complete without a few bunnies for the gillies ; a real fat rabbit roasted and stuffed like a hare is by no means to be despised. Rabbits require smart shooting, and many ordi- narily good shots are quite out of it with master bunny, whose little white tail quickly disappears down a hole, or is instantly hidden from sight under some low scrub. In favourable soils the rabbits increase almost as quickly in Scotland as they do in Australia, and the landowners are only too glad to have the mischievous little animals shot down periodically. The spaniels were turned into the tall bracken, the guns were placed on the outskirts, and the rabbits scampered in every direction from their warrens. Bang, bang, bang, resounded on every side, and over many pretty creatures rolled. All got a chance for their lives, and several escaped back to covert without a shot. In an hour four guns had killed fifty-six bunnies ; but they had certainly fired many more cartridges, for the rabbit is so quick that while scampering from one cover to another, or across a path, many an excellent shot has not time to raise his gun and take steady enough aim to bowl over the little brown-furred beast. When a rabbit was tumbled over, off went a retriever, and taking Master Bunny up in his mouth, ( ! Partridges. M 1 93 brought him back, and laid him at his master's feet. The dogs really seemed to know, and sat beside their owner until they saw a rabbit had been shot, then, almost before the word of command, they were off to bring it back. Rabbit shooting with dogs is most fascinating, the sagacity displayed by the canine race being well worthy of observation. " I can get rabbits without firing a shot or setting a snare, " said Mr. Fraser. " How?- everyone exclaimed. " Shall I show you ?" and the men having nodded an amused assent, the Laird asked his under-keeper to let Dash loose. Now Dash was a particularly ugly piebald sort of colley, of a truly mongrel type, a dog everyone had noticed, and silently wondered how such a hideous beast happened to be there. A few words from his owner, with a friendly pat, and into the scrub Dash sprang. He ran hither and thither for a moment, and then to the surprise of the party out he came with a young rabbit in his mouth, which he carried so carefully that it did not even squeak, while he waited for his master to take the prey and kill it. " Spendid, I'll be jiggered, if that isn't splendid," called Bagshot, u but he won't do it again." " Yes, he will," and off went Dash. The old dog, trained so perfectly by his owner, got four rabbits by this means in a few minutes, to everyone's admiration. O 194 Wilton, Q.C. u All very fine," said Sir Laurence, " very clever of Dash, but I'll be dashed if it isn't stealing, and he does it so quickly and so quietly ; the dog would be worth a fortune to a poacher." " Yes, that is true," said the Laird, " but still we can't help admiring his cleverness." And on the way home each man tried to outdo the other in telling stories concerning the sagacity of the canine species. As the party entered the back drive on their way home, a whistle from the Laird brought the quartette of collies bounding down the road, and the ladies to the hall door, to inspect the day's bag. In a few minutes the contents were laid out on the gravel after the usual fashion. Forty-seven brace of partridges, three hares, and sixty rabbits, made a formidable array, and quite carpeted the drive in front of the hall door. " Ninety-four partridges for four guns isn't much," said the Laird, "but not so bad for us. We can't compete with Dhuleep Singh, who once shot 780 to his own gun in one day." Mrs. Jackson was standing admiring the rabbits, when Mr. Fraser asked her if she " had ever heard of the little girl in Punch, who was doing a sum which refused to come right." " No," she replied. " It's rather naughty ; but I think I may tell you. The little girl was dreadfully perplexed, and turning to her governess sighed — ( Oh ! I wish I was a 4 * Partridges. n 195 rabbit.' ' A rabbit, my dear, and why ? ' ' Because I can't do this sum, and papa said at breakfast that rabbits do multiply so quickly.' " " What a shocking story, Mr. Fraser ! I am quite surprised at you," said the widow, laughing heartily nevertheless. Why did that laugh always remind Wilton so horribly of somebody else ? It was not really like, and yet now and again a look of Mrs. Jackson's, or a laugh, brought another face before him, and he mentally shuddered as with some weighty sorrow. There are things in life we cannot get away from. At the most triumphant moment a sound will like a flash bring past troubles back and mar our happiness. " Had you ever a sister, Mrs. Jackson?" Wilton inquired. " No. Why do you ask?" 44 Mere idle curiosity — the curiosity of an idle man. Cousins then ? " 14 Perhaps ; but really they are so far removed they hardly interest me ; " then, turning to Mr. Fraser, she added — " How cleverly you count the rabbits ! I see every four are crossed by one, so that you only have to count them up in fives and fives — splendid idea." Once the game was inspected, Donald had it duly labelled and hung. Then he looked out fifty of the best rabbits, and he and Angie carefully packed O 2 Iq6 Wilton, Q.C. them into a hamper to be sent off by the night mail to one of the big London hospitals, where no doubt they gave great pleasure and much nourishment to many a poor invalid, unaccustomed to the luxury of well-made rabbit broth. Mr. Fraser always did this with the bulk of his rabbits, from sheer kindness and charity, not from conscientious motives, like the " guid Scot n who took a shooting, and, at the end of a very good day's bag, being filled with remorse at having killed — actually taken the life of any living creature, turned to his keeper, and said : . " Mac, catch the next train to Inverness yourself man, and take all the game and leave it for the poor folk at the hospital ; then, maybe, the Lord will look mercifully on our sin ! " Donald's work was not over yet. The guns all had to be cleaned, and he had still to pack up several boxes of game, also to be sent off by the midnight mail. The heavy cardboard boxes were made to hold one, two, or three brace, and, when not in use, folded up like a haberdasher's case. The labels Jean had already addressed, and marked how many brace to each person against her list, to which Donald added the date when shot underneath the Laird's printed name and address. All very practical and time-saving. After tea, in the delightful old hall where many lasting friendships had been made over that free and " Partridges" 197 easy meal, a newly-married couple arrived, Sir Duncan and Lady Stewart by name. Sir Duncan had always been a great sportsman, and Mr. Fraser was delighted to welcome such a crack shot ; but he had reckoned without Lady Stewart, who refused to let her husband quit her side, while he seemed equally loath to leave his wife. " Good heavens ! what idiots ! " exclaimed Jean a couple of days later. They might just as well stay at home and spoon in private as come to other people's houses and never talk to anyone. Laurence and I must never go on in such a way." 11 Take care, Miss Jean, that we don't say the same of you in a few weeks," laughed Bea, who, dressed in a large white apron, was stalking a huge basket of currants. " Well, if ever we were so awfully ' gone ' as all that, you wouldn't see it, for we'd stop at home until the disease had run its course. Why, fancy Sir Duncan not even shooting ! If he does go out with the guns for an hour he misses everything, and is always pining to get back to ' My Maisie.' Bah ! " and the young lady helped herself to a new supply of fruit. u It's awfully good of you girls to pick currants. It is such a help, for they are pretty busy in the kitchen, and I want lots more jam made ; because I always give some to the poor people in the village," remarked Jean. 198 Wilton, Q.C. " I rather like stalking them," said Lorna, " though I did exclaim when you arrived with that enormous basket just now, but we are getting on, and look what a glorious colour my fingers are." u I have another basket still to fill, and I'm going to get the men to help just for a lark. They will get in such a mess, and currants are sour, so they won't require to eat 80 per cent., as men always do if you ask them to gather a few gooseberries ! l - u What about the married ladies ? " " Don't want any more help," said Jean. " Just we three, and when the men come in we will get Sir Laurence and Mr. Wilton and Mr. Bagshot. Won't they all be surprised ? and won't they look ridiculous in aprons ? " and the girl laughed heartily at the picture in prospect. " You are a wonderful woman, Jean," said Bea; "you always manage to make people do just what you want, however absurd it may be." " But she won't be able to get Sir Duncan away from Lady Stewart ! " said Lorna. " I do not think it is love so much that chains him to her side as fear. He seems afraid of her." " There may be something in that," replied Jean. 1 Poor Sir Duncan used to be the best fellow in the world ; but all his money is in land, and he got poorer and poorer, and I really think he must have married that woman for her dollars. Oh ! isn't she going to lead him a dance ?" "'Partridges" 199 "He seems awfully in love, or sat on, at the moment; perhaps a little of both," continued Lorna. " But Madam Dollar is having a fine innings just now, and I am glad I am not in his shoes. Do you know her well, Jean ? " " Her ? not at all ; but we know him awfully well, as he is an old college chum of my brother's, and now he is married Daddy asked him to bring his wife to stay. She's an American, and he has just been over to America for the wedding. She is all pretty smiles and vulgarity ; no one would endure her for a moment if she were English, but being an American she holds the passport to society, and her outrageous manners and nasal voice are forgotten because of her nationality. She makes me quite ill, and I shall be glad when they go. She swears occasionally, and smokes cigarettes everlastingly, and drinks whisky. I call her downright fast." " At all events, if she won't let her husband shoot she is very industrious," put in Lorna. " I never saw anyone knit so much in all my life. Every other woman in Scotland knits I know ; the peasant women knit, and the highest ladies in the land knit, but surely they don't all knit against time like Lady Stewart. Jean, did you notice that she brought her stocking to breakfast and did a few stitches, before and after the meal, burying the needles in her serviette while she drank a cup of tea and ate an egg." 200 Wilton , Q.C. M Indeed I did/' replied Jean, " and when I drove her to the post-office this morning she knitted all the time, although her fingers were blue with the cold. When she reads she knits ; I wonder if she knits in her sleep ? ° " Industry is a great virtue/' oracularly observed Lorna, who was an excellent needlewoman herself ; " no one is happy without plenty to do, and it is certainly better to wear out than rust out, but industry in excess often proves very annoying to lookers on, and I think the feelings of other people ought to be considered sometimes. The eternal click of that woman's needles makes me quite nervous, and seems to be everlastingly reminding me that I am wasting my time." " May I come in?" said Sir Laurence, entering the room as he spoke. " Rather late to ask if you may come in, when you are inside already," laughed Jean, " but come along, Lorna is lecturing against knitting, and industry generally, and I am glad she has not any weapon in her hands, or she would stick it into someone I'm sure." And Jean produced an apron and tied it under his chin, as though he were going to be shaved, and put a basin of currants before him, ere he had time even to remonstrate. The baronet laughed and remarked : " Lady Stewart is a shocking example, indeed. Jean, old Partridges y 201 girl, I want to tell you about the partridges and my nephews," he added, looking most uncomfortable in his new garb. r n And the weather, no doubt?" said Lorna, with a fine sarcasm. " If so, Bea and I may as well leave you — the weather we know requires a great deal of discussion." " No," said Sir Laurence, " we will attack the weather presently. In the meantime, mischievous Jean seems determined I shall attack the currants, eh, naughty puss ! Do not go until you have heard the latest report of my nephews. I had a letter from my sister, May Grindley, this morning, and, as usual, she has something funny to relate about those two scamps of hers." " What does she say?" Jean asked, laughing at her fiance's discomfiture over his apron and basin. " You know they have a German nurse, so although they are only two and four years old, they both speak German just as well as they do English." <( Yes, I think it is wonderful." u Not at all, May says that they learnt German without knowing that they were learning it. They are queer little chaps, just listen," producing a letter from his pocket, which Jean avowed he only did in order to avoid picking currants. He read : When Baby was going to bed last night (Baby is the little two- 202 Wilton, Q.C. year-old chap) he was on the stairs with his nurse, and called out to Jack in German (Jack is the proud father, Miss Stracey), " I will see you to-morrow morning at breakfast, Dad." For a sufficient reason there came no reply. This amazed Baby, who, turning to his nurse, asked in German — " Why does not Dad speak to me when I speak to him ? " " I don't think that Dad understands," was the soothing reply, in German ; " so Mum is translating what you said to him very likely." " I can't understand," observed Baby, with a very grave face, "why Mum did not have a German nurse for Dad when he was a little boy ! " The girls shrieked with laughter over Master Baby's original idea. M May goes on to say, continued Sir Lawrence : I was reading in the garden, and the children were busily employed playing, when they found a dead sparrow. " Oh, Harry, look ! here is a deaded dickey-bird ! " " So it is," he replied, looking at the little bundle of brown feathers; "let's bury him." " All right — let's." "We must dig a hole, you know," wisely said Baby. "Yes, o' course;" and, after digging a hole with their hands, utterly regardless of their nails, as youth is to all personal matters, Baby exclaimed — " Don't let's put him in ; it might hurt him's feathers." " Well, let's get a box ; they put people in boxes," replied the elder. And a box having been secured from the butler, the bird was gently laid in it on the top of sweet smelling flowers they had run off to pick. " When he wakes up in Heaven, he'll like them smells," remarked Baby, shovelling the earth on the top of the little sparrow. ' i Pa rtridges . " 203 " I say, Baby," remarked Harry, " we must wear black ; grown- up people always do/' " Can't, 'cause we haven't got none." " I know the Queen's soldiers wears it round their arms. Let's put out handkerchiefs and 'tend thems black." "All right, we will." And, after a good deal of fumbling, they succeeding in tying the knot. " Now let's cry," said Baby. " I know people cries when peoples die, 'cause cook cried the other day." Whereupon the small couple sat down, one on each side of the little grave, and wept. I hardly knew whether to cry or laugh. It was so comic and yet so touching to see these two wee mites' ideas of death. " How sweet of them and how original," said Lorna. " They are very original children I know," said Jean. " The very last time I called at your sister's the little chap who was then not quite two came into the drawing-room while a very stylish visitor was there. He walked round her two or three times, and then asked, his pretty little head in the air, and his hands clasped behind his back, ' Lady, where is your hat ? ' — ' My hat, dear, why on my head. Where else should it be ? ' Silently he marched round her chair again, as if performing some sort of incantation, your sister meanwhile trembling lest his next remark might be something too dreadful. { Do you call that a hat?' he said to our great relief ; ' I call that a dickey-bird ! } And the child walked away disdainfully. He had struck the right 204 Wilton, Q.C. nail on the head, however, for the so-called hat was literally only a dickey-bird/ ' " They're a queer little brace, certainly," remarked Sir Laurence, slyly relinquishing the currants and seating himself on the arm of Jean's sofa. The girls waited to hear no more, but discreetly took themselves off, leaving the young couple alone to have half an hour's pleasant chat about M the weather ! " "Jean," Sir Laurence said, sitting down beside the girl when Lorna and Bea had vanished, " I've got a plan, and you must agree to it." " I can't agree to it, can I, till I know what it is?" "But you will agree, won't you, darling?" he pleaded, stroking her hair. " Perhaps I will and perhaps I won't," she replied in a mischievous manner; "what is it?" "Just this. I want you to come to Shandoch. I want to show my little wife to them all." "Why? When? How?" . " My sister and her husband and the kids are coming to me for a shoot next week, and I want you and Mr. Fraser to come, too." M And how about my own party ? " "Bring any one you like with you; we've lots of room in the Castle, and as you know, it is yours now dearest, to do just as you like with." But before she could answer her big lover had Partridges" 205 caught her in his arms and was covering her face with kisses. They babbled on for an hour or more in the happy ecstacy of love, when every trifling word seems precious, and merely to sit beside the loved one brings solace and content. % * * # # In the evening all sorts of games were in request at The Hirsel. What would a country house do without its games ? Halma, of course, found its votaries, but the most favoured amusement was played with a shield almost the size of a real target, placed at the end of the room. A line was made on the floor about twenty feet away, and sides having been arranged all played in turns, throwing a small arrow with a pointed end at the target. If it entered the bull's-eye a hundred was scored by the happy player ; if just outside seventy-five was the score, gradually decreasing in the outer rings. "It is an excellent game, by Jove ! for it is not chance but skill that wins, and it is not beneath the dignity of the best sportsman, " said Bagshot, who had just made three bull's-eyes in succession. " That's because you have won," Bea could not resist saying. " If you had played badly you would have called the whole thing ' awful rot.' I know you, Mr. Fitzroy Bagshot." " More than I do you/' he retorted, not quite sure whether to be angry or not. " You do tease a fellow 206 Wilton, Q.C. awfully, yet you're so awfully good and fond of preaching. I'll be hanged Tfone knows what sort of a chappie you really are." 11 I won't be called a chappie, and you ought not to say you'll be hanged," replied the young lady indignantly, marching off to the other end of the room, where she made Captain Urquhart sit against the wall for his silhouette, which she drew very rapidly and then cut out of an old newspaper. Now Captain Urquhart' s moustache was his weak point, he fostered the baby hairs with the tenderest care ; but although poor feeble little hairs, they were obstinate in their refusal to grow long and strong, or curl at the end, as he particularly wished they should do. Bea knew all this, and gave him a moustache that a cavalry officer might be proud of, much to his delight. " Splendid likeness. Why you are a genius at that sort of thing," he said, " By Jove ! its capital, eh ! Mrs. Jackson," he exclaimed with joy. " Splendid ! almost as fine as Sir John Hardings'. By-the-bye, do you know the Hardings of Birnam, Captain Urquhart?" asked the widow. " I've danced with Miss Hardings several times, and thought her a rattling good sort ; but I can't say I know the family ; " and he twirled his moustache. " What a brute Claude Selwyn was to chuck over " Partridges" 207 that girl/' he continued, " for there is no doubt about it he did do so." " Yes, I believe he did. They seemed very much in love and all that sort of thing, yet he actually backed out three days before the wedding ! " " Do you know the particulars ? " the Captain inquired. " Yes I do, but I never talk scandal/' and the widow looked coy, and tapped the ground with her pretty French shoe, peeping from below white balayeuse. " You see, it was this way. Annie Hardings and Claude Selwyn were engaged. Every- one seemed satisfied. So matters went on smoothly for a few weeks : the wedding was fixed, the invita- tions were sent out, the presents sent in. The dresses had come home, even the wedding gown and the wedding cake were in the house." " I didn't know that." , " Only a couple of days before the appointed ceremony the invited guests received cards, saying, ( Sir John and Lady Hardings' compliments to so and so, and they wish to inform them the marriage of their daughter Annie with Mr. Claude Selwyn will not take place.' " " Really, by Jove ! " " Everyone was naturally amazed ; I believe the row was over settlements. He wanted all her money settled on him, or some such nonsense as that. I understand he has turned out a really bad man, in 2o8 Wilton, Q.C. spite of his delightful manners and good looks. Poor dear Annie ! Such a charming girl, too. I am going on to stop with the Hardings when I leave here." " Wish I was going somewhere/' remarked the captain. " I've got to go back to barracks, though I get second leave later, when I hope to have some more shooting. Sport is the only thing to live for to my mind, and if I had enough money I should* do nothing else." " I hate sport and the country," said the widow. "It is so dull to be shut up for a week with half a dozen people who can't even play poker ! Indeed it is almost more than I can stand for three days. I like the whirl of a city and its ever changing faces." " Do you go out an awful lot then ? " "Yes, I suppose I do. I drank hundreds of cups of weak tea during the season, or tea quite bitter with tannin and proportionately cold, sat out long and dreary dinners trying to amuse a couple of moneyed swells or poor professionals. I danced in heated over-crowded rooms, where women's diamond brace- lets tore my arms, and then found solace, if solace can be found, in cheap champagne and stale sandwiches." " You don't enjoy it then ? " remarked the Captain, surprised. 11 Oh ! yes I do. I like a box at the theatre and " Partridges." 209 a nice little supper party afterwards, an afternoon at Hurlingham with some nice man, or a day at Sandown, where between the paddock and luncheon we get tips on the horses, and new wrinkles for gowns as we sit under the trees. Oh, yes, I like it all well enough — it passes the time." " This sort of society show doesn't amuse me ; only the sporting side of it has any interest/ ' he remarked, thinking for the twentieth time what a society butterfly the widow was. " Ah," sighed the widow, turning from gay to grave, "I try to forget my loneliness in the whirl of society. It is terrible, Captain Urquhart, to be left alone as I am. I have no one whose advice I can ask, no one to trust, no one to love." And the poor lady looked quite pathetic. " You know we women are weak creatures without the protecting arm of man, and without something we feel to be our superior and can lavish our love upon." ' Ugh ! " he thought, but he said nothing. 11 Yes," she continued, seeing the pathetic had not stirred him, "I love town. It's pleasant to drive about in someone else's well-appointed brougham, and to dine at other people's expense, with an amusing companion. Above everything, I like change." M Your friends in town are not dull then?" " One's friends are very often amusing," she con- tinued, not having found the sympathy she expected. 2io Wilton , Q.C. " It's really entertaining how many of them have un petit rornan. We are all so naughty now-a- days ! " ''Are we?" "It's dreadful ; every dish is a savoury. We are tired of the dullness of rice pudding. I must say I rather like naughty people ; at least, I hate good ones," and she nodded her auburn head. 11 Come along, Captain Urquhart," said Bea. " We have finished Dumb Crambo, and now for a new game." All the ladies had to go behind the screen and hang their hands over the top, and the men were to guess to whom each hand belonged. " All right," laughed mischievous Jean, quickly exchanging rings with Mrs. Jackson. The girls slipped their hands over the screen, not in pairs, but one here, one there, in quite a bewildering manner, and great amusement ensued over the ridiculous mistakes made by the men, who all thought the game would be so easy, and found the whole thing so mystifying. " Oh, that's cheating," protested the doctor, at last; "Jean has put on Mrs. Jackson's wedding ring. Not fair, is it ? " So all the rings were discarded, and they began again, but even then the result was very ridiculous, and several mistakes were made in the row of limp hands hung out for inspection. } 1 ' Partridges! ' 211 " I know another game/' suggested Lorna, " let's get a large sheet of newspaper and hold it over the screen and make two little holes in it for the eyes to look through, and we will all get on a chair and peep through in turns, and see who will know to whom the eyes belong." u Nonsense, " protested the men, " of course we shall know; some are blue and some are brown." But they did not, nevertheless. Then came the men's turn to look through the paper mask, and they also scored, for, with one exception, the girls could not guess who they were either. Another great institution was billiard-table curling, for which a circle about two feet in diameter was drawn with white chalk on the upper end of the table. " Now," said Sir Laurence, the prime mover in this game, " let us take sides, and remember the object is to play one's own ball from off the side and top cushion into the circle, and at the same time, if possible, hit some adversary's ball out of it." "That sounds very simple," observed Lorna. " Not so simple as it seems, Miss Stracey. See, you take your ball in your hand and send it against the opposite cushion so, about two-thirds of the way up. Thence it rebounds and rolls to the top, where again meeting resistance, see, the little brute comes down the table. Often it never reaches the circle at all, and still oftener, if sent with great force, goe;s miles too far." P 2 212 Wilton, Q.C. Everyone played and everyone got greatly excited when his or her ball reached the curling goal ; but, oh, the shrieks when any ball was rolled out again. Some played very well, notably Jean, who was a first-class billiard player, while Lorna followed her very close, for she had been accustomed to play billiards with her brothers at home, and knew many of the mysteries of the game, although curling was quite a novelty to her. While the young folks curled Sir Duncan Stewart took his host aside on the plea of finding a particular brand of cigars in the gun room, the delicious flavour of which the baronet particularly appreciated. " Mr. Fraser, have you known Mrs. Jackson long ? " the younger man asked ; " I have never seen her here before." " No ; but you remember Tom Jackson was a great friend of ours, and used to come up every autumn for the shooting." " Of course, I remember him perfectly ; but although I knew he died, I did not know he ever married." 11 He was not married very long, and I only once saw him and his wife together at Cowes, at the regatta a couple of years ago, when we were yachting with the Staintons. He died shortly after that, poor fellow. We met her again this season, and she expressed such a strong wish to see The Hirsel, where Jackson told her he had spent so many happy " Par fridges." 213 days, that we asked her up. But why do you ask ? " " Do you know anything about her people ? fi persisted the younger man. " No ; nothing further than that she was Tom Jackson's wife and we met her at the Cranbrook's, which ought to be sufficient guarantee of good position." " Certainly. Well, Mr. Fraser, I may be wrong, of course ; but if she is the lady I remember seeing at Ramsgate, one of two very pretty sisters, I do not think she is exactly a fit companion for your daughter." " Good heavens, Stewart ! what do you mean ? " 11 Nothing definite, for she would not give me a chance of finding out to-night ; but I'm pretty certain, for I never forget a face. It is years since I saw T those sisters ; one went off with a London barrister, and the younger one still helped in the bar at the little Ramsgate pub. when I was last there, and if you know nothing concerning the ante- cedents of this lady I am pretty well satisfied who she is." "You have knocked me clean over; I never could have believed Jackson would marry a woman of that sort, or introduce her to us, to Jean, I mean ; but she is leaving here shortly, and I must own I for one shall not regret her departure, although it is wrong to say so when I am her host. Are you sure of this?" 214 Wilton, Q.C. '"No — I have no evidence ; but I myself feel pretty certain, more especially as she rather started when I mentioned Ramsgate, and one or two other little things, and tried very perceptibly to change the conversation. " " Who was she then ? " " Her mother was a well-known woman in Rams- gate, but her father was, I believe, a gentleman. The girls were well-educated, for money was never lacking in the establishment ; but with such a mother, one could not expect much from the daughters, and the house was one of the most notorious in Thanet. It is not a pretty story, even taken at the best, and after the extraordinary lives led by those two beautiful sisters, I often wondered where they ended. " " Well, well, poor Tom Jackson." " Forgive me for speaking, Mr. Fraser, but we are such old friends I thought it was only right for Jean's sake." " Thank you, my dear fellow, it was very good of you, but it has given me a bit of a shock, and shows how much more careful I should have been." They walked back to the billiard-room in silence. The tray with whisky, lemon, soda, &c, arrived punctually at 10.30 every night, and Mr. Fraser always sent his girls off to bed directly afterwards, for he never let them stop up too late. " No, my dears, after you have been out all day, walking and driving, or riding, you must go to bed 1 ' Partridges! ' 215 early to keep your health and your looks, so off you go, young women." And he was right. Was Sir Duncan Stewart right about Mrs. Jack- son's history, Mr. Fraser wondered as he lighted his candle that night. CHAPTER X. SALMON. ACCORDING to her usual custom, Lorna walked beside Wilton's pony (pronounced by the natives "pauney") as the party proceeded to the salmon river. To some remark the girl made, he replied — " Women are never just. They are sometimes cruel, more often generous, but just never." 11 What a horrid sentiment ! M " Perhaps ; but nevertheless true. That is why — although I am a Radical — I do not believe in woman's franchise. Women can never argue on an equal footing with men." " But could they not be educated more thoroughly ? Each year increases the number of capable women surely ! " " Yes, it does ; but it will take centuries before they are fit to govern." 11 But if women pay taxes, and obey the laws of the country, surely they should have a vote in that country's government ? " persisted the girl. Salmon. 217 " Not if they are not capable of applying that vote justly," replied the barrister. " But every man, whether capable or not, votes, unless he be a lunatic, a criminal, or a pauper ; and surely lots of the men are very incapable, " she insisted. " Lots. You are quite right there ; but fancy you knowing anything about such things ! Who would ever have thought it of one so pretty and so sweet ! " "And why not, pray? Just like a man that remark. Because I am a woman I must not think. Who is unjust now — eh ? " " Well done, child ; but what a deep little woman you are to hide all those advanced thoughts and grave problems behind that charming mask." " And you hold a woman should never think for herself?" " Hardly that. I don't mind her stockings being blue, but I like her petticoats to cover them ! " he replied. She merely laughed. "Do you know, Miss Stracey," he said, "it is to you I owe the hours of pleasure that have brightened my existence since I came here. I only wish they might never end, as they inevitably soon must do," he added with a sigh. " To you I owe many unselfish thoughts that have helped during the last few weeks to raise my egotistical mind above its own poor concerns. If I have ever made any approach to the 218 Wilton, Q.C. ideal — which, in spite of all my cynicism, I believe a man should strive to attain — it has been due to a reflection from your own purity of self." "You are a maker of pretty speeches," laughed Lorna, half abashed, yet pleased at the compliment from one for whom she felt a strange respect. " I believe your good nature will temper the severity of that judgment," he replied. " I am not a maker of pretty speeches, but gloomy and grumpy, and a poor companion for one full of life and energy and goodness." " You are not always gloomy," she protested. " You are able to dispel the gloom for a short time ; but in reality I am a miserable fellow." " Why will you always talk in that sad way, Mr. Wilton?" the girl asked, in an accent of deep pain. "It is really very wrong ; you have a brilliant future before you." " Have I ? Then all I can say is ambition seems to have gone to the dogs at present." " Do not say that, Mr. Wilton." "The only end worth attaining in this world is a happy family life. No professional gains, no worldly success can compare with the delights of a home. That one word sounds as sweetest music in my ear. The schoolboy returns to his home, the student, although he assumes an air of indifference, feels there is only one home. The man who has battled with the world, perhaps won his spurs, longs for that Salmon. 219 one sacred possession. Yes, home life, Miss Stracey, family life, is the only end really worth attaining. Never have I heard Patti or Albani sing that lovely song, ' Home, sweet home/ without being moved to tears. They are words that appeal to every man's heart. And — and I have no home — I may never have the one thing that now seems to be my only ambition. " " Mr. Fraser says you are a Q.C. already, and are sure of a seat at the next election. You have every- thing a man can want. I like to hear Mr. Fraser talk of the wonderful way in which you have succeeded." " How delighted I am to hear that you take an interest in my affairs, Miss Stracey. Few people would trouble themselves about how I feel, perhaps because they are under an impression I am able to take care of myself. I suppose I am, as a rule, much too indifferent concerning the opinion of those with whom I come in contact. " " Don't you think indifference tends to selfishness ? Do you never seek advice nor sympathy ? " " Never," he replied. " I never discuss my affairs with anyone. When my plans are made, and the course clear, I say and do according to my lights. " " But you must mind a little what the world thinks, " she persisted. " I care very little for public opinion, and agree with Sir Robert Peel, who said it was a great 2 20 Wilton , Q.C. compound of folly, weakness, prejudice, wrong- feeling, right-feeling, obstinacy, and newspaper paragraphs. But/' lowering his voice and gazing down upon her, he added, " to be esteemed not altogether worthless by you, child, would give me more pleasure than I could express. " Much confused, Lorna hardly knew what to say, and murmured something about it " being all the other way round," " her opinion was quite worthless when compared with his own." " Perhaps my legal opinion may be better than yours," he answered, smiling, " but your simplicity gives you a clearer, cleaner judgment than I shall ever possess. And I envy you, yes, I envy you your goodness. Ah ! what a power to possess — the humanising influence of woman ! When your gay and cheerful voice is absent I feel lonely," he added, patting his pony's neck. Lorna did not answer ; she felt the colour rising to her temples. " I think I can pretty well realise my future position," he added, " at least, I try to do so. It would be summed up by a Frenchman in the phrase, un homme manque" " I am afraid you are not much of a philosopher." M I have a little philosophy to bestow upon my friends, or to amuse myself with, but it is hopeless to refer a man to philosophical considerations con- cerning his own sentiments. Between reason and Salmon. 221 passion there is but little relation. You remember the words : ' Teach me philosophy to make me mad/ Ah ! child, though it may concern you little, you have done me more good than anyone or anything in this world ; you have made me feel young again." She did not answer — she felt perplexed. M I feel like a youth who lives in the future — dreams. In middle age we should be contented with the present, in old age we may dream again — but in the past," he half soliloquised. " Why is it you always talk so strangely and so sadly to me," she asked, really bewildered at his discordant utterances. " I suppose it is because I have lost the buoyancy of youth, which bathes all the world rose colour, and fills us with the bright visions of impossible day dreams. I dream now, sometimes," he added, his eyes looking away into the far distance ; " but I know well that the fair picture of my fancy is far beyond my reach, that I have no right to covet its possession ; and yet, idiot that I am, I seem latterly unable to content myself without it. Oh ! Miss Stracey," he exclaimed, as if suddenly over- mastered by impulse, " if you knew how great your influence over me has been ; if you knew how happy it makes me to be with you ; if I dare only — if " But at this moment a turn of the road exposed the whole party to view. 222 Wilton, Q.C. u Here are the others/' cried the girl, with a gush of relief, for she had felt frightened, though she did not in the least know why. 11 Death ! M muttered the man between his teeth, realizing how unscrupulously the crowd tramples on the ideal, and stifles down the poetical moments of existence. Opportunity, like Time, passes never to return. Then there ensued silence, and in a few minutes they were in the midst of their friends, who all asked eagerly whether the invalid were feeling any the worse for his long drive and ride. " A little tired for the moment," he said, " so I will rest a bit while you go away to fish and explore." Mrs. Jackson immediately offered to remain, " to keep him in order," as she put it bewitchingly, and whether he liked the arrangement or not, Mr. Wilton could only accept her companionship with gracious equanimity. Fitzroy Bagshot threw an excellent fly, and was good enough to profusely express his belief that " salmon fishing was the best sport in the world, and shooting was utter rot in comparison ! " " Very well," said Bea, " come along and let me see you land a fish." " Oh ! landing a salmon is a very different affair from hooking one ; but never mind, I'll try." " Have you always been so devoted to fishing, Mr. Bagshot?" she asked. Salmon. 223 " Yes, ever since the days when with a bent pin at the end of a piece of string I caught minnows, which I proudly bore home in a bottle ! " It was just the sort of morning that fishermen love — dull and dreary in the extreme, no dancing sunbeams on the water or playing among the autumn leaves. Just a dull, heavy day, that makes everyone feel the winter of his discontent is at hand. The slow, dark river wound its way between beautiful rocky banks, and as better fish were usually landed from the boat, into a quaint old tub, honoured by that name, the young couple jumped. Bagshot was armed with an 18ft. greenheart and all his favourite flies, Jock Scott, Durham Ranger, Wilkinson, Silver Grey, Butcher, Lion, &c. ; besides some wonderful specimens of his own tying, his book contained odd bits of floss silk and tinsel left from fly-making. The boatman having rowed to the head of the " Caste/' Bagshot told him to let the boat drop down slowly to the foot of it. " Splendid morning," said the knowing old boat- man ; " just enough wind to give a ' lipper ' to the water; the sort of day for a Silver Grey." So a Silver Grey was accordingly extracted from amid many mysterious tangles. There had been a spate, and the river was beginning to rise; a very good time for the fish to take. Bea sat motionless, intensely interested in 224 Wilton, Q.C. the casting of Bagshot's line, and his wondrous dexterity in whipping the stream. After fishing the river twice without success, the young man changed his fly for a Jock Scott. Salmon are not to be found every half-hour, however, and they waited on patiently, or as patiently as poor Bea could, after spending a couple of hours cramped up in the stern of a boat. " Mr. Bagshot, I'm getting dreadfully stiff/' she said at last. u It's very poor fun this sort of thing. I wish I was catching trout myself instead of watching you wait for salmon ! Can't you amuse me a little better? You are awfully dull." But almost as she spoke the line suddenly tightened. Oh ! what a moment of excitement. The reel flew round and round, out went yards and yards of line, out, out, out, as if the fish were running away with it to the world's end. How that fish played, how he rushed off with the line, only to be skilfully reeled back again. Some- times the fish would be far away, at others quite near the boat. How he played ! Nearly an hour elapsed before he became exhausted, and Mr. Bagshot said jubilantly, " I shall soon have him now." But he was mistaken. Off the gallant fish went again, leaving the boatman, who had long been ready with his landing-net, lamenting. All suspense, however, comes to an end. Here Salmon. 225 was the fish at last, coaxed alongside the boat, and the man was actually securing him in the net. " How beautiful he looks, " murmured Bea, almost below her breath, as she saw the scales glittering like silver in the water. The boatman's hand trembled with excitement, for the salmon was strong, and he plunged in the net as though he would break it to bits. Another minute all seemed right, the salmon lay still in the net, he would be in the boat immediately ! Would he though ? One plunge forward, one flap of his huge tail, and the creature burst from his bonds and plunged into the depths of the stream again, taking the fly and a part of the line with him. Alas ! alas ! the salmon had escaped after all. What a disappointment ! " Fishing is beastly uncertain/' said the discon- certed Bagshot. " The novice often gets the biggest catch, and all the skill possible counts for naught. " " Then you must be very skilful/' laughed naughty Bea. After a good deal of fishing talk between the men, it was decided to give that " Caste" a rest and try another, so the boat was rowed a little higher up the stream. Here the water was a bit sluggish, so the rod required a good deal more working ; but that "Caste" produced nothing, and had ultimately to be abandoned. " I want some luncheon," said Bea, "and I beg to Q 226 Wilton , Q.C. state that far from considering salmon fishing the best of sports, I think it is the very dullest thing I know." " Don't say that, please/' replied poor Bagshot, really distressed, " you will feel better after one of these grouse pasties," and he handed her the white paper in which they were wrapped. The boatman drank to future success in the wine of the country ; but Bea and Bagshot contented themselves with ginger beer out of stone bottles, which after being well cooled in the stream tasted like nectar to the young folk. (( Better than all the whisky in the world ! " Bagshot exclaimed. " Ah ! you are thirsty." 11 Yes ; but man is the only animal that drinks when not thirsty, you know." While the boatman went off to see about some pool higher up, the two were left together, and Bea, glad of an opportunity of talking to the conglomerate Bagshot, asked him why, when he disapproved of betting and drinking, he spent all his time and his money in racing stables ? " Simply because I love horses and sport. I never bet, as you know, therefore it is not for that excitement, but I am content to drop a thousand or two a year for sheer love of the thing." 11 You are a queer creature. If any one else spoke as you do I should think he was making believe, but I know you are quite honest in what you say." " I think it was Lord Beaconsfield," he answered, Salmon. 227 i( who said that the turf was a vast engine of national demoralisation. Grave evils certainly arise from the betting system, which is rotten and corrupt. This is a brutal truth perhaps, but it is truth, for all that. The betting system is a curse to the country, and while bookies are piling up their money (and as wealthy men getting a footing in certain circles) they are ruining half the young men in England. I love a race," he continued, " a well-bred horse, the riding, and a day spent in the fresh air ; but I hate the ring and everything connected with betting. Every shout means the ruin of some poor wretch, but I do not see how the thing can be altered except by legislative means. The few men who, like me, do not bet, are powerless to crush the hydra-headed monster, whose poisonous fangs fasten on every section of society, only to fatten its own vile body." " But can nobody put a stop to it if it is so bad ? " asked Bea. " Men like the late Lord Falmouth, the Duke of Westminster, and Lord Durham have done their best to purify the turf, but unless the Government makes it illegal to advertise betting establishments in the papers, and also suppress the advertisements of touts and tipsters, no amount of example can do much good, I am afraid." u Still, it is always worth trying to alter anything that is wrong," remarked Bea. " Of course, betting, like many other society evils, O 2 228 Wilton, Q.C. can never be wholly eradicated, but the temptation to gamble should not be allowed to be paraded daily under the nose of every person able to read a newspaper/' remarked Bagshot, becoming quite eloquent on the subject of one of his pet hobbies. " Really you are quite a moralist, but I thought the racing stables were bad too," remarked Bea, delighted to hear the little man talking so sensibly. " Not necessarily so. Of course some of them are hotbeds of vice, but in others the boys are most carefully looked after. " " Oh, do tell me something about them ! What are the grooms like ? " " We don't call them grooms ; they are only stable lads ; they enter when little boys of twelve or so. Each horse has a boy as its special attendant. Sometimes there are two boys to a horse. These lads rub and dress their charges for five or six hours daily — of course under the direction of the head man, who, in turn, takes his orders from the trainer. " " Massage, in fact," remarked the girl. " Yes, that is really what it amounts to. It is wonderful to see the little chaps scramble in and out between the horses legs perfectly fearless and apparently on the best of terms with their charges. The horses, though they squeal and tuck back their ears, do not dislike the rubbing." " What good does the rubbing do ? M Salmon. 229 " It keeps their coats like satin, and expands and hardens the muscles without inducing fatigue." " Boys of twelve ought to be at school," re- monstrated Bea. " So they are. In the large training-stables there are schools, and certain hours of each day are portioned off for the instruction of the boys — they are also made to go to church on Sundays — so you see a racing-stable is not such a bad place for a smart little lad." " Yet surely life in a racing-stable is not a very high standard of existence." " There are many worse things," answered Bagshot. " Horses are noble animals, and if pro- perly treated are full of good qualities ; but they have one peculiarity — they never forget, and if their manners are once spoiled by ill-treatment, they can rarely be cured, so a good lad is sure to get on if found trustworthy and intelligent." " And what becomes of him in the end ? " " If he be a smart rider, and have good hands, and do not grow too big and heavy, he may become an apprentice ; he then in time becomes a jockey, and begins his career by riding trials, and in races which are set apart for apprentices. I have known jockeys who commenced life as stable lads, earning a larger income than a cabinet minister. By-the- bye, Miss Bea, now we are on the subject of racing, I wish you would name a ripping filly for me ? " 230 Wilton, Q.C. 11 There you are again with your slang, I don't know what a ( ripping filly ' is ; but I really am interested about those boys." " Then do be interested about my filly, she is a pretty little thoroughbred foal, very well bred. Her sire is a celebrated racehorse called Despair, and her mother a beautiful mare called The Bride, whose sire was a Derby winner. I expect the filly to become a good racehorse, so I want a name for her." " Poor little foal ! What an unfortunate thing to have a father named Despair. The Bride would be in tears if she had to find a name for her offspring." " ' Tears ' it shall be — you will be proud when in three years time you hear the winner of the Oaks is Tears, a brown filly by Despair out of The Bride." " I declare you shall not tell me anything more about racing, or I shall become as fond of it as you are, and possibly as slangy, so we must not talk any more, but row on and attend to your fishing." " Then come along, Miss Bea, you must try your luck." " Nonsense, your line is too heavy ; I only fish for trout," she answered. However, she was persuaded to try, and as Bagshot leaned back in the stern of the boat he thought nothing was prettier than to see a woman throw a line. Salmon. 231 "Well done, Miss Bea ! I'll be d if I wouldn't rather see you throw that line than even one of my horses first at the post." 11 Come, now," protested Bea, " you promised that if I came out with you to-day you would never mention horses or races, swear, or do anything horrid." " Sorry, won't do it again ; but you know you opened the subject yourself this time. You asked about racing stables, miss. Still I am very sorry to have offended you," and he folded his hands and looked down, and pretended to be penitent. " I am tired of this ; let's go now," said Bea, suddenly reeling up her line. " And it's most awfully cold ; I feel quite chilled." " Stop just one other quarter of an hour and see if we can't change our luck." "Well, only a quarter of an hour, mind. Not a minute longer." By one of those strange freaks of luck that some- times happen at the eleventh hour Bagshot " hooked " almost immediately, and ultimately landed a clean run salmon, weighing nearly twenty pounds ! " Now, Miss Bea, is not that worth all the waiting, all the anxiety, all the fatigue ? " The girl thought it was, but added, " What is a clean run salmon ? " " One fresh from the sea. It is covered with a 232 Wilton, Q.C. parasite, which disappears after the fish has been twenty-four hours in the river water. A fish of this kind is the best possible eating, and one to be prized," he continued, delighted with his good fortune. Very shortly after that they went home, pleasantly chatting and chaffing, proud of their salmon, extremely charmed with themselves, and more particularly pleased with each other. But Bea still felt chilly. " Cold water running down my back/' she explained to her cousin when she got home, and as even her tea did not make her feel any warmer, she went off to her room. " Bea, you look very queer/' remarked her con- cerned hostess ; "you must have a very hot bath and go to bed. It is a regular chill. Why on earth did you stop out so long when you were perished with cold." " Mr. Bagshot was so disappointed at not catching anything I had not the heart to bring him away until he did. It was stupid of me, I suppose." " Stupid ! it was mad of you; but just like your good nature, cousin mine. So now you will have to stop in bed and get well." And, after arranging the pillows with all the loving care of a woman's hand, Jean went downstairs to her guests. " Bea is ill, Mr. Bagshot, she has caught a bad cold, and I have just put her to bed," explained Jean ; but she was sorry for having spoken so sharply when she saw the poor little man's face. Salmon. 233 "What a d brute I am. If I hadn't persuaded her to stop out, she would never have been ill. By Jove ! no salmon in the world was worth it. Poor Miss Lempriere ! I am sorry. What can I do?" u Nothing. She is in bed, and will be all right to-morrow I hope." But the enigmatical little man ate no dinner, and disconsolately wandered about the passages, his grief being too real for anyone to dare to chaff him. When Lorna entered the drawing-room after tea that same afternoon, she found Mrs. Jackson writing. " Oh, by the way, you never gave me the address of that tailor in Inverness ! " said the girl. " Did I not ? Oh, I will fetch it ! and you had better write the post-card at once, for the mail-bag will be going in a few minutes." And Mrs. Jackson tripped off gaily. In the passage she met Wilton with his hands full of letters. " Come now, Mr. Wilton, you must not look so serious. Forget all I said. It was only chaff, of course ; but I see you don't like chaff, so I'm sorry." He did not answer. " Will you forgive me?" And she looked at him out of the corners of her eyes. " Certainly. We men always forgive women everything — or at least we ought to do so — although 234 Wilton, Q.C. they sting sometimes. " And he bowed and passed on. Lorna naturally turned to the table that the widow had just vacated in the drawing-room, but, while casting her eyes over the papers strewn upon it, to find the postcard, her attention was arrested by the word " Wilton" which met her gaze in an open letter before her, the ink of which was still wet. " That wonderfully successful barrister, Wilton," she read almost before she knew what she was doing, and the hot colour mounted to her cheeks as she turned away ; for she felt how nearly she had been guilty of a breach of confidence. How thankful she felt that, with a great effort, she mastered her curiosity and read no further. What could Mrs. Jackson be writing about Mr. Wilton ? she asked herself. Could she have guessed the strange things he had said to her that morning, coupled with his still more curious manner? Had she guessed his wildly insinuating words ? Many suggestions flew through her brain, but she laid each aside as impossible. How long she re- mained paralysed as it were to the spot, she knew not, nor did she ever distinctly remember Mrs. Jackson's return with the address, or the quick, sharp way she looked at the girl, whose conscience pricked her acutely for allowing herself to read, even one line not intended for herself. She went back to her room with the tailor's Salmon. 235 address, and sat down at the little writing table in the window to finish her letter. Her mind was disturbed ; over and over again the strange things Wilton had said to her had been repeating them- selves all the afternoon, and she hardly knew whether to be pleased or angry at his insinuating words. Then suddenly she remembered Mrs. Jackson's epistle lying on the table with the word " Wilton'' not yet dry, and she wondered again what she could have had to say — and then again her better nature congratulated herself in turning aside. Like the pendulum of a clock, her brain tormented her. Backwards and forwards the thoughts flew. Suddenly she was recalled from her reverie by hearing voices below the window, for her room was above the dining room, which overlooked the hand- some wide terrace. " Well I know, of course, there is some strange entanglement that has always prevented Wilton marrying," was borne to her ears in a man's voice. " What a fool the girl is to fall in love with him then, and make herself so ridiculous as Miss Stracey has done," was the reply in dulcet tones, which Lorna immediately recognised as Mrs. Jackson's. Lorna sat transfixed at first. She hardly under- stood what she heard. Were the horrors of the day never to cease ? Her pen drew grotesque little figures on the blotting paper — little devils with queer tails, and grinning monkeys that seemed to 236 Wilton, Q.C. jeer at, and yet soothe her as the pen traced the lines. Could it be true that this man, this strangely kind and interesting man whom she had loved to hear talk, and who had insinuated so much to-day, did not care a bit about her ? Was she a wretched fool as those voices had implied ? Had she shown her love for him ? Oh ! how miserable she felt, how changed everything seemed. Those words spoken thoughtlessly beneath her window rankled in her soul. She sat vaguely staring before her, her hands folded in her lap, repeating again and again — " strange entanglement/' "fool to show her love." What did it all mean? She tried to understand, but her brain felt on fire, and the words seemed to brand themselves into her mental vision. It was her first sorrow, poor child. Oh ! how poignant the pangs ! * # * * * The girls sat chatting round Bea's fire that night, chatting as only girls can chat- — when the light is dim, and the crackling logs send a lurid glow on the silver-backed brushes, as they ply to and fro over loosened tresses. Dressing gowns, easy chairs, slippered toes on the brass fender rail, there they sat, those three friends, till the small hours of the morning. " Jean, he's just charming, he's just awfully nice," said Bea, whose cold was better after the Salmon. 237 severe remedies and keeping quiet, and she gave her cousin a big hug. u Just the right sort of man for you. Sir Laurence is tall and handsome, and little girls like you always admire big men. Then he's a real sportsman, and you can shoot, fish, and hunt together. Moreover, he's got lots of money. You can entertain for him. Oh, Jean, you'll have a jolly house in town and an old castle in the country, and be the happiest and j oiliest little married woman in the world ; won't she, Lorna ? " " Yes, I think they are just made for one another," said Lorna, " and I am as pleased as you are." But in spite of her pleasure there was a sad ring in her voice. " By-the-way, why has Mr. Wilton gone off in such a hurry ? " asked Bea with a jerk. Lorna' s face changed. She suddenly peered into the crackling logs, and seemed not to hear. Had she not asked herself that same question a thousand times since dinner? Had she not felt lonely, depressed, as with some foreboding of coming evil ? Why did she mind his going so much ? He was nothing to her ; nothing to her really, only she felt a sense of restful protection when he was with her. Somehow she had liked to listen to his grave, sad utterances better than to the brightest talk she ever heard. V I can't understand why he went," said Jean, " he congratulated Bagshot on the salmon, and was 238 Wilton, Q.C. awfully nice at tea. When the post came he got a lot of letters, which he took to the smoking-room to read, but I never noticed if there was another of those highly-scented pink envelopes. Later he went and found Daddy, and said he must go to town by the night's mail. Forthwith he packed up and departed." " But didn't he tell your father why he had to go?" persisted Bea. " No, Daddy does not understand a bit what took him off, because the Courts are not sitting. He has not gone electioneering either, he has gone to London, and no one is in London now except half- starved and wholly neglected cats." " Don't talk like that, Jean," Lorna suddenly said, her voice sounding harsh and strange. " My people are in London on their way from Aix." And then she wondered why she said this, and relapsed into silence. " Yes, but he does not know them," said Jean, 41 so they can't be the attraction, can they?" Lorna did not reply, she slowly pulled the tortoise- shell pins from her hair, and leant back in her cushioned seat. " Laurence asked him to-day," continued Jean, 41 to come and stay at Shandoch when we go, and he seemed delighted, so I daresay he will be back next week ; in the meantime his going is certainly rather mysterious." Salmon. 239 " I hate Mrs. Jackson," burst forth Bea, " and I wish she had gone instead of Mr. Wilton. She's a horrid woman. I shall never forget how she smirked and smiled when that accident happened to Mr. Wilton, as if she wanted to insinuate Lorna had done it on purpose," and the girl tossed her pretty head and began to plait up her well-brushed hair for the night. " She is always making love to uncle and Hugh, and I think it horrid/' she added, in a burst of anger. " Making love to Daddy ! " exclaimed Jean, horrified. " Oh ! surely not, she does not care a bit about him." " That's just it," continued Bea, " she does not care a bit about him ; but she wants to marry him, or Mr. Wilton, or anyone who will have her." The news fell like a thunder-clap on Jean, who only felt a little comforted when she said, " Well, she is going the day after to-morrow, and some other friends are coming instead. Mrs. Jackson asked to stay an extra week because one of her visits fell through. She was to have left last Friday really." " And are you delighted to be engaged ? " asked Bea, satisfied to have had a fling at Mrs. Jackson. 11 I don't know," replied Jean, " but I never realised in all my life till now how immensely nice it is to be in love." " Is it really ? " 240 Wilton, Q.C. " Yes, really and truly/ ' cried the enamoured girl. Did Lorna think the same ? Poor Lorna ! 11 You see," explained Jean, " I'm much older than you ; I'm eight and twenty, although I am so giddy, and perhaps its because I've done a lot and seen a lot that I feel the restfulness of love. I wouldn't lose one day of my old life mind, because the last ten years have been delightful, and the experience of those years have only made me realise fully that all the other little ' affairs ' I had before, were only flirtations, that I have got the right man at last, and that love at eight and twenty is overwhelmingly delightful/' and the girl nodded her wise little head and folded her hands on her lap with a great air of satisfaction. Looking up suddenly she noticed Lorna' s dejected look. " Come, Lorna, shall I brush your hair?" she asked, as she saw the girl preparing to do so. " Yes, if you will ; you know it soothes and makes me feel happy." " All right. I love to do it, because I know you like it ; besides, you always seem as if you were going to purr like the pussy cats. My pony likes his nose rubbed. Jip loves it, you know." " Isn't it the sugar?" suggested Bea, "that he knows will come afterwards." " No, cousin mine ; I think not. Any way, Lorna won't get any sugar. Oh ! there's a tangle ! " " Never mind," said Lorna, " it will soon be out, and Sahnon. 241 I am enjoying myself immensely. I love the comb or brush being drawn gently through my hair. I feel so much better already for your mesmeric touch." Then the conversation wandered away a little, but reverted ere long to the new engagement. The girl friends talked about engagements in general and matrimony in particular. " You are a strange combination, Jean," remarked her cousin. (< You fish, shoot, and hunt, wear short skirts and knickerbockers, and yet you are the ten- derest hearted thing in the world. " " Adaptability to circumstances, my dear. The sapling lets the iron bar of a rail grow into its sides, accustoms itself to the inconvenience and grows up to be a tree. The branch that will not bend must break, you know." " Words of wisdom, cousin mine." "And you see I've waited till I'm twenty-eight before I've seen the man I considered worth contem- plating matrimony for, and I feel he is worth it, so here goes." " Will you give up all your sporting life ? " asked Bea. " Not a bit of it. Laurence marries me as I am, and as I am I shall remain ; but I may have other things to attend to, in which case perhaps I shall sport a little less ; but we shall see." The fire had nearly burnt itself out when, with a little shiver, Lorna, who had sat almost silent while R 242 Wilton , Q.C. the others chatted, rose, and with a weary heart went off to bed. Tears filled her eyes before kindly sleep closed the lids, while she wove fancy pictures of what her husband should be. Yes, he must be clever and big and manly, but he must also be an honest, good man. The man of the world had no attraction for her. Her husband must be a man she could respect and honour as well as love — a man she could feel to be her superior in every way. As tears wet her pillow and relieved her aching brows a soothing feeling crept into her heart. She seemed to see a face that gave her comfort, and she slept. CHAPTER XI. " GOLF." Travelling by rail along the Inverness coast, Sir Laurence's party left the train in order to cross to Shandoch by water. Half an hour's drive from the quaint little town where they alighted brought them to the ferry. No one was about ; the small house seemed to be totally deserted, and an old disused ferry-boat was pulled up on the bank. " It's all right ! " exclaimed Sir Laurence, noticing his guests' blank looks ; u the man will be here in ten minutes." And he proceeded to lift some big stones off the top of the wall. " What are you doing ? " inquired Jean. M I am finding the signal." " What signal ? " " Why this — the signal for the ferry," producing, as he spoke, a long stick, from the end of which he unfurled a white flag. This he waved mysteriously several times, in the style of the Morse signals, and a few minutes afterwards, to everyone's amusement, a ferry-boat and a couple of men were seen to put off from the opposite bank. R 2 244 Wilton , Q.C. It was a perfectly glorious evening, the heat of the day had passed over, and the sun was just beginning to sink below the horizon, tinting the rippling surface of the water. The great mountains stood out like giants against the lurid yellow sky. Not a sound stirred the air. Utter silence reigned. Everything was peaceful, calm, and quiet. A few sea-gulls fluttered over the water, or paddled about on its edge, amid the coarse brown seaweed. The reflections in this natural mirror were beautiful, and all the party felt im- pressed by the wonderful scene, which more closely resembled in form and colour an Italian lake than anything one would expect to find in the far north of Scotland. " They are a long time coming," said Sir Laurence at last. " You see there is not a breath of wind stirring, so instead of sailing across in ten minutes, the men have to row, and will not be here for half an hour. Let us walk along the shore a little way, and I will show you the beautiful situation of the little town nestling among the hills to the left. Opposite to the point where we stand is a famous old castle, and far away on the right you can just discern the spire of the cathedral city." While they were looking out to sea a seal rose to the surface, bobbed its head up and down two or three times, and disappeared again into the depths below. " Do you have seals here, then?" asked Lorna. " Golfr 245 u Oh;- yes. They often come quite inland, I have seen them playing among the rocks at Shandoch ; but they are not the seals that ladies' cloaks are made from, and therefore not worth shooting/' The boat arrived at last, but the tide being low- some difficulty was experienced in getting the party on board. The old boatman seemed greatly pleased to welcome Sir Laurence back again, and, as the news of his engagement had already reached Shandoch, he shook him so warmly by the hand that the worthy baronet almost gasped fro.m pain. " Wish ye luck, Sur, and the 'lassie,' wish ye luck, Mem," and the old boatman ducked his cap with a series of jerks. The crossing was so beautiful that no one spoke a word while the boat glided over the water. It was too exquisite, too mysterious and soul-satisfying for words ; one of those perfect evenings when we dimly realise how beautiful life is, and how little we appreciate the great gift of existence. " What be ye going to do about the leddies, Sir Laurence ? " asked the old boatman, " the tide is that low we canna get to the pier." " I don't know, can you suggest anything? " " Well, yon two dogcarts have come," answered the man, " and maybe the small one might manage to come down over the seaweed to the water's edge and take off the leddies whateffer." 11 Well, we can only try," agreed Sir Laurence, 246 Wilton, Q.C. and accordingly when they arrived at the best point for landing in a low tide, the horse drawing the smaller dogcart was coaxed over a slippery, shelving seaweed bank right down into the water. It was a somewhat funny proceeding, but the result proved satisfactory to the ladies, although the poor horse evidently did not appreciate the entertainment, and rejoiced when it was ended. Away they sped for five miles along a road which lay more or less by the water's edge, to that old-world township Shandoch. The amber tints of the sky had deepened into red before they entered the quaint little town. All the inhabitants had turned out, and were standing at their doors bobbing and smiling to see Sir Laurence and his lady arrive. As they drew up at the gate of the quaint old castle, which now stands right in the middle of Shandoch, they received quite an ovation, and after many hearty hand-shakes, all sorts of good wishes, and much delighted laughter, Sir Laurence and Jean were compelled, in sheer self defence, to run into the garden and up a long flight of stone steps on to the terrace, away from so much publicity. Jack and May Grindley had arrived with their two little boys, and were on the terrace waiting to welcome the bride elect, which they did most cordially. So amid hearty rejoicings, on one of the most perfect evenings imaginable, when all the world seemed " Golf." 247 bathed in opalescent glory, the happy girl stepped for the first time as bride elect across the threshold of one of Sir Laurence Cave's homes. " My darling, my wife ! " exclaimed the devoted swain, u welcome a thousand times — welcome to all I have to give," and he put his arm round Jean and led her indoors. 11 Do you know we have a ghost, Miss Lorna," said the young baronet that same evening. M An old house like this would not be complete without its ghost." " Have you ? Oh ! do tell me all about it." " Well, this ghost, so the story runs, was a bishop belonging to the old cathedral opposite, and the bishop was murdered. He was shut up in a small guard-room in that enormous old chimney, where no one would expect a room to be hidden, and there he was wickedly murdered — starved to death I believe ; so at night his ghost is said to walk." " Have you seen it, Sir Laurence ? " " No, I can't say that I have, but you may be more favoured in that respect than I," he replied, laughing. " I love a ghost story," said Jean, " it gives me the creeps." " What an idea ! You like the ghost for the sake of the creeps," laughed the more serious Lorna. " Yes, just as you like to be tickled till you feel you must yell. I like them both up to a certain 248 Wilton, Q.C. point, you know ; they seem a sort of pleasurable misery." " I once heard a rather good story concerning a ghost," said Sir Laurence. " Oh, do tell us," cried the girls. " A man went to stay in a country house. He was no believer in spirits, and he said so, but the first night he felt restless and could not sleep. While turning uneasily in his bed he heard the door open, and an uncanny white figure crossed the room and stretched out its arms towards him." " Oh, how awful ! " exclaimed Jean, her creeps beginning already. " The next night the same thing happened, but he kept his own counsel, although on the third night he felt woefully afraid to go to bed." " I should have sat up all night if I had been he," said the excited little Jean, already far advanced with her creeps. "The ghost came again that night," proceeded Sir Laurence, solemnly. " Straight up in bed the man jumped, exclaiming, ' Oh, would you be so kind as to give me a subscription for the restoration of All Saints' Church, Ballyallyitacon ? } The ghost vanished, and was never seen again." " What a shame ! You horrid creature, I thought you were going to tell us a lovely ghost story. I call that cheating," and Jean puckered up her little mouth as if she were really vexed. 11 Golf." 249 One morning it was arranged that all the party should play golf, Shandoch being possessed of one of the best natural links in Scotland. Sir Laurence was, of course, a capital player from living in such near proximity to a link, and so was Mr. Fraser, who had been educated at St. Andrew's. Grindley and the new arrival, Mr. Smith, were about equal, and a foursome was accordingly arranged for the men. The three girls decided to play round the ladies' links, and Jean being the only feminine expert, promised to teach Lorna the mysteries of that fascinating game. " But where are the links ? " asked Lorna. " Why five minutes' walk from the gate," replied the baronet. u There is no fashionable club-house here. The men wear their oldest clothes and enjoy them- selves, the women folk leave society gowns and fashions behind them and do ditto. It is the primitjveness of the place that forms its charm." "How does it chance to be still so primitive ? " asked Mr. Fraser. u I should say because it is some miles from a railway station," answered Sir Laurence. (( It is very quiet and very old fashioned, but I love Shandoch, and hope to occupy the castle with my little wife for years to come. Come along, we must go and get our l caddies ' and prepare for play. The ! caddies,' I must inform you, Miss Stracey, are small boys and girls." 250 Wilton, Q.C. "I remember/' said Mr. Fraser, " when I was over here before, how pleased I was with those boys who never venture a suggestion, and are not the interfering, advice-giving urchins one is afflicted with at St. Andrew's. Your boys carry, and nothing more." The foursome being soon arranged, the caddies engaged, and Sir Laurence's clubs having been got out from his locker in the little club house, the men started their round ; while the girls bore away a little to the left of the men's first hole, and commenced their game on the ladies' links. " Have you never really seen golf played, Lorna ? " asked Jean. " Never," replied the town mouse. "Then I must teach you the game from the beginning, so please attend." " With the sand from this old box I am going to make a tee." And, suiting the action to the word, Jean made a professional little tee, on the top of which she placed her ball. 11 Now I am going to strike off just to show you how it is done," and standing with her feet apart, the girl took the club in both hands, and after a professional wiggle waggle, swung the club round her shoulders, and, raising her elbow, hit the ball clean away. 11 Why, Jean, you wound the club round your neck as if it were a comforter, and hasn't the ball gone a long way," said Lorna, amazed. u Goifr 251 " Yes, that was a pretty good drive/' said Jean, modestly triumphant, " now you come and do the same." M It does not seem very difficult/ ' said Lorna. " Very well, my dear, come and see." After a good deal of preparation, and determined to copy Jean in every detail, Lorna raised her club, but instead of hitting the ball in its descent, it " missed the globe/' as her friend observed. " Missed the globe," repeated Lorna, "what is the meaning of that?" Whereupon Jean explained that missing the ball altogether was called " missing the globe." " Never mind, I will try again." " Yes, but if you were playing a game of real golf that would count one." M Oh, how dreadful ! " said Lorna, " then my miss does matter after all ? " " Certainly it matters, but we are not playing seriously." The second attempt was a little more successful, inasmuch as it hit the ball ; but, as the club hit the ground as well, it only went a few feet, and poor Lorna was much distressed. In time — it is true a long time — they reached the vicinity of the hole. 11 This is the putting green," explained Jean ; " and you must now change your driver for a putter." " Why, Jean, you are almost as ready with advice as a St. Andrew's caddie," said Bea. 252 Wilton, Q.C. li What extraordinary names you have," said Lorna. " What is a putting green, and what is a putter ?" " These names are nothing to what you will hear presently," laughed her friend, " when we go to meet the men returning from their round. They use such words as brassies, mashies, niblicks, cleeks, and irons ! " f< Won't you hole it out first ? " suggested Bea to her cousin ; and Jean quickly putted her ball into the hole. 11 That's just like playing croquet/' said Lorna, "with a little mallet, and a little ball, and a hole instead of a hoop." " If you think the business so easy, come and 'put' it in," said Jean with a merry twinkle. But the ball behaved very badly. It went across the hole, and round the hole, and even lipped the edge of the hole, but still refused to go into its depths. " It shall be your ' honour/ Lorna, and you must use this driver." Thus exhorted Lorna made a tee about three inches high, off which the ball blew away before she had time to hit it. "Try again," laughed Jean. "I showed you once, and you must try and remember." Deciding the pyramid was a little too high, Lorna lowered it to about two inches, and then struck the __ " Golf." 253 ball violently, with the result that she filled her eyes and mouth with sand, while that maddening ball only rolled a few feet into the jaws of a yawning bunker. " That's a hazard/' observed Jean, as if she were delivering a lecture; " so you must not touch sand and must use your niblick." " I never saw such a dreadful game, or heard such extraordinary expressions ! Surely you are joking ! " expostulated Lorna. " Not a bit of it; and, as you will often be in a bunker, you may as well have a little practice in getting out again." Stroke after stroke Lorna struck without avail. The ball would toil cheerily up the bunker's side as if it really meant to reach the top, but it always turned back disheartened. Bea and her cousin laughed merrily at Lorna' s failures, the girl soon grew quite to enjoy her bad shots, and at every hole conceived a higher admira- tion for Jean's admirable play. But they only had time for a few holes, when they returned to the club-house to meet the men as arranged for the picnic tea. At four o'clock one of the footmen from the Castle had started ahead with the tea baskets and all the necessary impedimenta. Jean and Sir Laurence went in front, as the path through the pine wood skirting the links was somewhat narrow. 254 Wilton, Q.C. Mr. Fraser and Mrs. Grindley (Sir Laurence's married sister) followed immediately behind, Mr. Grindlev and Lorna walked next, while Bea and Mr. Smith, the new arrival, chatted with Hugh while they ascended the old stone steps leading into the wood, and made merry little jokes as to who would find the first mushroom. Turning off a little up the hill to the right they had hardly reached the whins skirting the links before Bea shrieked out " I've got it ! I've got it ! M and stooping down she gathered a mushroom nearly as big as a soup-plate. Others were found in quick succession, and as they did not care to carry their treasures all the way to the trysting stone they hid them away to pick up on the return journey. The first shades of autumn were beginning to make themselves noticeable, the berries of the rowan trees were turning that gorgeous scarlet which denotes that the first frosty nights have arrived, the oaks and the beech were tinged with the red and yellow of departing summer, and yet the moss under the dark pine trees was the brightest and softest green possible. Gaily the party proceeded on their way, Bea deciding, as she looked at the lovely country they passed through, that she would return to take some sketches. She dearly loved beautiful scenery, and with all her admiration for the old masters, always wondered why they had so seldom painted landscape instead of Madonnas everlastingly. " Golf." 255 " That is ( Cnoc na Croice/ " explained Sir Laurence. " And what may that be in plain English ?" asked Jean. " Gallows Hill," he replied. " There was a common hangman in Shandoch up to 1720, and as criminals were not allowed to be hung in the town, this spot just outside the boundary was chosen for the purpose. Many strange stories are told of witches being chased across the boundary." M You know a great deal about this place," said Jean. " I am quite surprised." And she might have added, pleased. "Yes, I suppose I do; I am very fond of the place, and one always tries to know something of people and places one is fond of — eh, miss?" On they went through an open glade, affording peeps of the bluest sea beyond, and then suddenly the wood ceased, and before them lay a glorious panorama. " Oh ! how beautiful ! " everyone exclaimed, as they came upon a tall stone monument, a relic of ancient times, standing in the foreground amid the gorse, on which some yellow flowers still lingered. For, as the old saying has it, " Kissing is out of fashion when the gorse is out of bloom." Nestling on the shores of the next bay were the beautiful towers of a famous castle ; its lovely gardens backed by fine, majestic hills, purple with 256 Wilton, Q.C. heather or black with pine woods, and beyond, the green patch where, Sir Laurence explained, the famous Pictish Castle lay, still further on, the German Ocean, and the headlands of Helmsdale, Wick, and Thurso could be seen. As beautiful a view, in fact, as any artist could wish to see. " Come along," said Sir Laurence, prosaically, " and I will show you where we must make tea," (whereupon he pointed out to Jean a deep hole in the stone wall against which some of the party were leaning) " that's the place for the kettle, and you must superintend the operations, for we are going to have a real al fresco meal." After this, the party scattered, and while some went off to decipher the coat of arms on the ancient stone, others strolled away in order to read a queer old epitaph on a lonely grave near by. 11 A man died of an unknown disease," explained Sir Laurence, " supposed to be cholera, I believe; anyway his death was thought so uncanny that the people refused to have him laid in the graveyard, and so he was buried in this lonely spot." " Lovely spot, I should say. What a view ! What an ideal burying ground ! " exclaimed Jean. (< When you have made the tea, little cook, you must come and see the inscription, which is rather amusing." " Oh, but you must help make the tea," she replied, M so tell me about the inscription." " Golf." 257 " The inscription runs," went on Sir Laurence, u ' Erected by K. R. over the remains by his dutiful father, K. R., who departed this life July, 1832, aged 14 years. It was first supposed he died of cholera, but afterwards contradicted by most eminent medical men/ Where these eminent medical men came from in such a country village as our cathedral city I am at a loss to know," continued Sir Laurence, vainly endeavouring to make the spirit-lamp burn. Of those who remained to assist at the tea preparation, the men burnt their fingers and talked a good deal, while the girls enjoyed the fun. " I am amazed, " said Jean scornfully to Sir Laurence, " that you cannot make a kettle, fixed in a sheltered wall, boil, even with the aid of a great big spirit-lamp. I will show you how to do it." At last the tea was ready, and everyone pro- nounced it delicious, as were also the beautiful buttered scones full of honey and jam, a real speciality of the Highlands. The children's puppy, even more sinful than puppies usually are, ran across the white paper which served as a dish piled with scones, and over they went, jam and honey and all, on to the grass, but as it was beautifully fine and dry they were none the worse. " Besides/' remarked Jean, " spiders and cater- pillars are the proper sauce to an al fresco meal. That's the fun ; we can have everything comfortably at home, and the more uncomfortable it is out of S 258 Wilton, Q.C. doors the better I like it. Another scone, please, I want one with lots of that heather honey in it." Harry and Baby, when they had finished their tea and were thoroughly sticky, scampered hither and thither, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves, now and again returning to put pebbles into their uncle's coat pockets, and perpetrate other deeds of mischief. " Now I've caught you, you young scamp," said Sir Laurence, as he seized the young man of five, " tell me why your mother had your hair cut like a convict's ?" " What's a conwict?" " Never mind ; so short, I mean." (( 'Cause Mum said I couldn't have it cut here, there isn't any cutting man at Shandoch." 11 Well, it does not want much brushing, that's one good thing." 11 The cutting man in the shop brushed it with a broom." " A broom ! " " Yes, a broom and a strap, and it won't need brushing again," he added with a wise nod of his head. 11 How did it happen that I never saw you yester- day?" continued the uncle. " 'Cause I was ill." " What was the matter with you ? " 11 Mum said I was bilious. I got a new headache every step I took going doawnstairs." " Golf." 259 " Oh ! n solemnly responded the uncle, delighted with the boy's diagnosis of disease, " and is that why you wanted soda water ?" 11 Yes ; Mum only lets me have a very little soda water, just a little when I have a headache.'' " And why do you like it ? " " 'Cause it frizzles on my tongue," and he smacked his lips at the thought and wriggled off to build stone castles with his baby brother. " Fancy that young villain," laughed Sir Laurence, " I haven't dared to tell his mother, but yesterday, when I went into the gun-room, I found Master Baby sitting on the floor in front of a syphon of soda water with the spout in his mouth, while Master Harry was standing over him pumping it down his throat. Of course the gas came out of it first, and the little chap was nearly choked." May Grindley herself arrived at this juncture, and her brother told her how he had been getting Harry to explain the nature of his illness. (( Yesterday morning, when I went into the nursery breakfast," said the lady, " I found Baby eating a slice of fried roe, so I asked him if he liked it, as it was the first time he had ever tasted such a thing. \ Yes, I do like it,' he answered, ' it is just like little tiny wee soft beads. It's werry nice. Is it a crosity ? ' For a long time I could not think what he meant, but at last it dawned upon me that he meant curiosity. He dearly loves a big word, and puts one in everywhere." S 2 260 Wilton, Q.C. " They're awfully funny children," laughed her brother. " Not funnier than other children ; the only thing is we let them say what they think and never laugh at them ; children are horribly sensitive, and can't bear being laughed at." " I fancy you're right, May." » " Harry would not eat his porridge or anything else yesterday morning, and when I remonstrated he gravely said, ' No, thank you, Mrs. Grindley, I don't want any more' (with a merry twinkle in his eyes), ( I'm 'tending to be a wisitor, and, you know, wisitors never eat anything they don't like ! ' " When tea was finished, Mrs. Grindley declared it was so hot that everyone had better go and paddle with the children. No sooner was the suggestion made than off scampered the young people to the beach, and in a few minutes they were all collecting shells from the beautiful shelving sandy shore, along which they walked back to Shandoch in the cool of the evening. CHAPTER XII. " PHEASANTS." " Come along, Jean, little woman ; I want to show you our witches' stone, and we shall have a quaint walk through the old town/' said Sir Laurence, his face beaming with pride as he contemplated the dainty creature who had promised to be his wife. Hardly had they left the castle gate than " Caller Heron' " resounded through the air ; but, almost before there was time for the cry to be repeated, Sir Laurence bounded off to the kitchen door, at the other side of the tower, and returned, followed by a maid, who carried a large china dish, which the natives were pleased to call an " ashette." Jean broke into a peal of laughter, and wickedly exclaimed — " Go and buy them yourself, Laurence! You ought to do the thing properly ! " " Little mischief ! " he exclaimed. " I should love to see you walking through the town with a great dish of herrings ! " she returned. "The fact is," said the baronet, " that as soon as the herring-cart arrives, every cottage door is flung 262 Wilt 07%, Q,C. wide, out rush the housewives with their sixpences to get twenty or thirty splendid fish fresh from the sea ; and, therefore, it often happens the whole cart- load is sold before it get seven as far as the castle. Thus, miss, you might have had no fish for breakfast if I hadn't been so expeditious." " Oh, I know all about it ! But you did look so funny. I forgive you though for rushing off in that undignified manner, because a really fresh herring is the loveliest fish in all the world, and one doesn't get tired of it as one does of salmon. " " Jean, I want to ask you something." " Anything you like. Anything in reason I mean," she added as an afterthought. 11 It isn't for myself, or about myself." "That is marvellous! Generally it is 'Will you do this for me?' or that; or — or — sometimes it's only ' Will you give me a kiss ? ' and she looked shyly up at him. " That's what it will be in another second, miss, if you look at me like that ! " " Then I must not look at you at all," said the girl wheeling round. 11 What a splendid back you have, Jean ! And, I say, you are a brick ! you just have a jolly waist for a fellow's arm to go round, and none of those squeezed up things that must mean tortures, and really look beastly ! " " That wasn't what you wanted to say, was it ? " " Pheasants" 263 " No ; I wanted to ask you what's the matter with Lorna, she's so quiet. I say, little girl, why did Wilton go away so suddenly?" " That's a mystery no one knows, for I am sure he was awfully in love with Lorna." " Of course he was, and she with him. I can't imagine why the deuce they didn't get engaged right off, after our setting them such an excellent example, too ! " he added, tucking Jean's arm through his as they strolled along. " You know I asked him to come and stay here, and he accepted," continued the baronet. " Yes." 11 Well, he went off from The Hirsel without saying good-bye to me, and has never written to explain why he hasn't come. Very extraordinary — eh ? " " Daddy had such a nice letter from him yesterday, saying he was remaining in town, as he had found a lot of pressing business to attend to. He thanked him for the delightful time he had passed at The Hirsel, the happiest he said he had ever spent in his life ; but he did not add why it was so happy," she laughed. " We can guess, I think — eh, Jean?" " I can, any way ; but do you know, if it were not that he told Daddy he was feeling ill I should be very angry with him, and I am angry with him every time I look at Lorna' s pale face. What right had he to devote himself to her as he did and then go off without a word ? " and Jean looked quite indignant. 264 Wilton, Q.C. " Do you really think she was properly in love with him ? " " Yes I do ; but Lorna is such a reserved creature one never knows exactly what she feels. " " She is very stately, and extremely hand- some. " " Yes, and a dear, sweet darling, but she is a little reserved. I love her with all my heart/' " What ! with all your heart ? " M Well, no — not quite ; but, Laurence, do you know, I think there is something very strange about Mr. Wilton. He seems to me horribly deep." "In what way, darling ? " " In his letter to Daddy he says something about — perhaps I ought not to tell you — but — yes, I must — because you are part of me now— he says, ' the business I spoke to you about is nearly settled ; but where I thought I had lost hundreds I am afraid I may have lost thousands. It is a very serious affair altogether, and one that may pretty nearly beggar me.' Isn't that awful, Laurence?" 14 Very bad, certainly. Have you told Lorna ? " 44 No. Why make her more unhappy? but still I feel so sorry for him. Fancy his saying the loss may beggar him. I cannot be too angry with him just at the moment or I should be — awfully." " Poor chap, it sounds bad, for Wilton is not the sort of fellow to make a fuss." " Laurence, I ought not to have told you this ; but "Pheasants." 265 you won't tell anybody, will you ? Promise solemnly, faithfully." " PR promise anything you like, darling/' What might have followed was interrupted by the tinkle, tinkle of a cracked old bell. " What is that noise ? " asked Jean, more surprised than ever when she found the cracked bell was followed by a more cracked voice calling forth something strange and loud. " That is our town crier going his rounds, and calling out that the township of 500 inhabitants must turn off their newly acquired water at a certain hour." " Well done ! Do you know so much Gaelic ? " " Not much, but I have heard that before, - so guess what it means. Why do you always make me own up and feel so small ? " he added, pretending to be angry, "you wicked little minx." " Then I suppose I must try and change at once ?" she said demurely. " Not a bit of it ! You are just right. Don't you change one atom — not one little atom ; you're just what I want — the only girl in all the world for me." "Laurence, you know those Hardings?" sud- denly exclaimed Jean, remembering a paragraph she had read in a well-known society paper, Veracity, that morning. " Not exactly, I never knew them — but I know the people you mean, darling, Sir John and Lady 266 Wilton, Q.C. Hardings, of Birnam, whose daughter was engaged to that scamp Claud Selwyn? " " Yes ; well you know Mrs. Jackson went on to complete her visit to them when she left us; she had been with them a few days on her way up. Annie Hardings is a great friend of hers. They had a large house party at Birnam, and I read in the paper this morning that there has been some tremendous row about a brooch that was lost or stolen, belonging to a friend of Annie Hardings who was staying with them. They think the maid took it. It seems it is some wonderful family heirloom, which is why such a fuss has been made about the matter." " What a trifling thing to get into the papers/' remarked the baronet, much more interested in Jean than in her story. " Oh ! but the affair is not trifling, it seems. The paragraph is headed ( Mysterious disappearance of jewellery/ and begins by saying : ' One of the oldest and most respected families in Perthshire, &c/ Quite a long article. They think other things have been stolen, and there was another great big robbery in the neighbourhood a few weeks ago." Her recital was stayed at this point by Sir Laurence,, who remarked : " There is the stone where the last witch was burnt in Scotland, another sort of a witch to my bewitching little Jean. Witches were burnt in Scotland Pheasants." 267 later than in England. The royal ancient borough of Shandoch claims the ' honour ' of having cremated the last witch in 1722, after David Ross, the Sheriff of Caithness, had tried and condemned her to death." The young couple had passed old wives knitting at their doors, and silently admired the rows of shells ornamenting their windows, ere they reached the stone which marks the spot where this wretched woman was burnt. It is only a large plain stone, bearing the date, and stands in a funny little garden, just bordering the links and commanding a beautiful view. Jean could not help asking an old woman who- chanced to be passing by, " Why was this witch burnt?" " Ah, just because she was a very good woman maybe, and told others of their faults whateffer. No one likes to hear their faults, and there's many a one would be burnt even now for witches if some folks had their will ; those who speak too plain, I mean." The Rev. Alexander Macgregor computes that over four thousand supposed witches were put to death in Scotland, a number that makes one shiver to think of, and he relates the following interesting fact concerning witchcraft in Ireland, a country the customs of which are very similar to many in Scotland : In January, 1871, a trial in regard to witchcraft took place at 268 Wilton, Q.C. Newtownards Quarter Sessions, County Down. Hugh Kennedy sued his brother John for payment of a sum alleged to be due to him for wages and other services. He stated that his brother's house and land were frequented by witches, and that he had been employed to banish them. The witches did not belong to the " good people," and were maliciously inclined towards his brother. His land got into a bad condition, his cows also, and he himself into a state of settled melancholy. There was a certain charm of great repute in the neighbourhood for putting to flight these unwelcome visitors ; but it was only useful when properly applied and performed, and no other person but the plaintiff could be got to undertake the task. The method pursued was this. The plaintiff locked himself in the house alone ; he stopped up the keyholes, closed up the windows, stuffed up the chimney, and, in fact, left no mode of access to the importunate witches whom he was to summon to his presence. He then lit a fire, and over it hung a pot of milk, and into the pot he put three rows of pins and needles which had never been soiled or contaminated by use. These he boiled together for half-an-hour, during which time the witches were supposed to be suffering such excruciating tortures that they had at last to take to flight. They had never been seen or heard since. The cows resumed their former healthy condition and the land its wonted fertility. The case being of rather a "complicated" nature, it was finally referred to arbitration, Subsequently it was announced in Court that the sum of ten shillings had been awarded to the plaintiff. And this was in 1871 ! The morning had dawned bright and cold, but the engaged couple strolled along as if it had been a day in June, although a white frost covered the ground, for it was still early. They had a way of stealing out for a little turn before breakfast for the " Pheasants." 269 benefit of their health, of course ! and the walk was occasionally somewhat prolonged. When they returned they found breakfast nearly over in the dining-room, which was enormously high, containing deep window seats, and the walls were six feet thick, ornamented with stags' heads, the neigh- bourhood being well stocked with roe, fallow, and a few red deer. Everyone was eager to be " away to the woods, away," and the guests were standing on the clematis- grown terrace, long before the carts came round, watching the small boys playing with that woefully mischievous puppy which their uncle Laurence, to their intense joy, had given them. The puppy, all head and legs, was having a fine game with baby's little bare calves, and the small chap could not make up his mind whether to cry or laugh. " May," called Sir Laurence, in a great fuss, " May, have you had the cellar key ? I want to get some old Chartreuse for Mr. Fraser's flask." " No/' replied his sister, who was chasing the puppy away from her smallest boy's legs, " I have not seen it." " What a nuisance — it was on my dressing table. The butler hasn't it, and no one can find it." " Harry made it an anchor," explained baby, " when I was making my hair like Dad's with the powder." " What do you mean, dear?" asked his mother. 270 Wilton, Q.C. " Harry made the key an anchor," he repeated. "But where?" u Out of Uncle 'Orrence's window." " Come and show me," said his mother, half amused and much relieved, and the couple walked off, hand in hand, to Uncle 'Orrence's room, where the baby marched straight up to the window, and showed a string attached to one of the knobs of the dressing-table drawer. "That's Harry's anchor," said the rosy-cheeked mite, opening his big brown eyes, and sure enough, at the other end of yards of knotted string, hung the cellar key among the ivy of the tower ! Hiders are finders even if only a few years old. "And what were you doing, Baby, when Harry was tying the key on the string?" " I was powdering all my hair white, like Dad's," he replied, with a great look of satisfaction, " and I soaped my chin ready to shave." " Hulloa ! hulloa ! " called a hoarse voice. One of the children's dearest possessions was a macaw r , a fine bird with a beautiful back and tail of iridescent blue, almost changing to green as it reached the neck, while its breast and wing linings were vivid yellow 7 . " Margaret," for such was its name, was very tame, and the eldest boy would stand on tiptoe and say, " Kiss me, Margaret." Wisely putting its head on one side and looking out of its round white eye, with its sinous black " Pheasants" 271 pupil, the bird was in the habit of opening its mouth, and putting out its hard black tongue, with a noise closely resembling a kiss, adding " pretty poll/' as if satisfied with its accomplishment. " Give me your claw, shake hands/' Harry would continue. Immediately " Margaret " would lift her claw from the wooden perch, and affably permit the child to shake it. " Lift me up to give him sugar," lisped Baby, and taking the bit between his teeth, he was lifted up to the parrot's level ; after the bird had said " Ta," it would take the sugar very gently with its beak from the child's lips, and holding it up in its claw eat the delicate morsel bit by bit. Polly copied the naughty little puppy's bark so well, that it it was quite difficult to tell which was which ; but Polly and the pup were not really friends, for the latter, unable to let anything alone, had made a dead set at Polly's tail. The noise that ensued can be better imagined than described. 11 Auntie Jean," said Baby, for he had already learnt to call his future aunt by that name, " would you like to see Polly barfed ? " " Yes, I should very much. How do you do it ? " "The gardener brings his watering thing," explained Harry, " and stands it on the grass, and Polly has it scringed all over her; she calls out all the time/and then, when she wants to get dry, she dances up and down." 272 Wilton, Q.C. " Dance, Polly/' he continued, himself setting the example, and instantly " Margaret " began to dance too. " One day, do you know, Auntie Jean, when we was in London, and Henrietta took Margaret out on the go-cart handle, like she often does, we passed a water-cart, and when Polly saw the water she thought it was her bath, and she shrieked and stuck out her wings, and covered Baby all up." " And where were you ? " " I walk — I'm bigger than him." And the small person drew himself up to his full height, which was not great. u Polly's feathers are a lovely colour," said Jean, much amused at the wee boy's assumed dignity; "when they come out, you must give me some for my hat, will you? " "If oose very dood," replied Baby; "but Dad has all him's feathers to make fish flies, and when I'm big, I'm going to have them." " I must be quick about securing some then," observed the future Lady Cave. " But there are the carts, so good-bye, little chaps ; I must be off." They had not far to drive — a couple of miles at most, and the air was so clear and frosty they quite enjoyed it. Entering a wood, where the leaves had nearly all fallen from the trees, and were carpeting the mossy ground with gold, among which the sunbeams Pheasants ." 273 played, where the tangled brambles were still red, and the few nights' frost had turned the haw berries to brightest scarlet, they found everything silent save for the rustle of the drifting leaves, and the occasional twitter of birds. Three of the guns were to walk through the middle of the wood, the other guns, with the ladies, along its edge. The outskirts were considered the safer posts. On they marched, the dogs and keepers setting to work to beat up the game. With a peculiar whir-r-r-rl sound out flew a pheasant, and a shot from Mr. Fraser's gun laid him low. Pretty creature ! It was a cock, and its lovely feathers gleamed in the sunlight. Lorna had never seen a pheasant shot before, and she thought its plumage looked indeed lovely. Then she heard bang, bang, bang, on her right, and knew that other game had risen ; but she could not see what was going on because of the trees, although she beheld smoke rise into the air in that clear blue film so peculiar to bright cold days. The mossy, leaf- strewn ground was bright with toadstools and fungi of every description, shade, and colour ; some as vivid a scarlet as those the Russian peasants dry and hoard up on strings for winter food, others purple, green, or yellow, and all beautiful in tone, painted by the marvellous brush of Nature's master hand. ■ ■ Mark over woodcock ! " cried the keeper, and T 274 Wilton, Q.C. every man raised his gun, anxious to shoot a bird which is becoming scarcer day by day, and indeed soon promises to disappear altogether, like the " Great Auk" himself. Down came the woodcock, and one of the new arrivals claimed the prize and handed the coveted feather to the bride elect, who received it with a pretty smile. Hardly had the little bird been thrust into the keeper's voluminous bag than another pheasant rose beside Lorna, and down it came, completing the brace from her gun, much to the girl's satis- faction. We say advisedly " her gun," for the woman walker becomes quite as keenly interested as her companion, and looks upon every bird almost as her own. After leaving the wood they crossed a turnip field, and managed to secure two brace of partridges before entering the plantation, where they expected to find plenty more pheasants. These expectations were verified, for they secured seven and a half brace, among them some really good " rocketers," before they left the laurels and the firs behind. Pheasants like trees, and live amongst them, although they do not often perch on their branches except at night. " Are you hungry ? " asked the host, as they left the plantation. " Since you ask, I am starving," answered Jean. The keen, frosty air and brisk walk had made Pheasants P 275 her forget that she had indulged in the luxury of an excellent breakfast. u Well, come along ; we are going to have luncheon at the little cottage. It is very small and very primitive, but it will be better than sitting outside ; these October days are too cold for that sort of rustic enjoyment." As they neared the cottage a delicious odour of Irish stew greeted them. There, sure enough, in a huge cauldron hanging over the fire, was an Irish stew, sent to the cottage by their thoughtful host's housekeeper. Oh, didn't they enjoy it ! Utterly regardless of indigestion, an ailment luckily unknown to shooting expeditions, when one can eat the most outrageous compositions that at home ordinarily would make every one feel very ill even to think of touching. Much revived and thoroughly warmed, they marched forth after luncheon to complete their bag, and a very good one they made before five o'clock. The pheasants were numerous, and the trees were not too thick, which was a great help to the guns. Shooting, of course, depends to a large extent on skill, but there is a great deal of luck about it, too, sometimes ! When the party returned from the shoot they all stepped across to the hideously restored but historical old cathedral. 11 In this churchyard, until one hundred years ago, T 2 276 Wilton, Q.C. markets were held/' said Sir Laurence, posing as guide. "There stands the old market cross, while that huge stone in the middle of the grass was placed in position in order to give the authentic measure of a Scottish ell between its two iron bolts." " Did they really measure in that way ? " " Yes ; and if you will come along this path, I will show you some stones of various sizes which used to be hung up by iron rings for weighing sheep, hay,, or anything. " " But there are only two/' objected Jean. " These are the only two that were found. Others may have been stolen or buried. " " How very inconvenient to have a market in a graveyard/' "It is only during this century that the grave- stones have been put up. They were not allowed while the burial ground was used as a market place as well." " What a lot of extraordinary things you have in Shandoch." " Yes ; and we had many more formerly — for instance, the old stocks stood here till the end of the eighteenth century. But the great excitement at the beginning of this century was cock fighting and dancing. " " Oh, how shocking ! Are you sure of that ? " " Yes — quite. I read all about it in Dr. Rogue's < Social Life of Scotland.' " After their return home, Sir Laurence hunted up "Pheasants." 277 the book and handed it over to Mr. Fraser, who, always interested in such matters, immediately found the passage. Donald Page, describing his father's second wedding at • Shandoch, 1794, gives a most amusing account of the wedding feasts at that time. These feasts lasted two or three days, and were held at the houses of both parents, where there was much dancing, in which the elders joined heartily. " Fancy an elder dancing, " laughed Lorna. " Dancing was not the only amusement enjoyed at Shandoch," continued Sir Laurence; " for, as I said before, early in the nineteenth century the great excitement was cock fighting. They used to collect all the cocks in February (this was universal in Scotland), and the fight was held in the courthouse, the schoolmaster presiding, and the youth whose cock won the great victory was crowned with a diadem worked by the ladies of the town. The schoolmaster gave the crowns and delivered a speech in Latin, after which the ceremony ended with a grand procession enlivened by music. " "In what year do you say that was?" inquired Mr. Fraser. " Cock fights were usual in the parish schools till about ■1820/' replied the baronet, as he left the apartment. "Jean, I've settled your father in the gun-room with Dr. Rogue's book, and I want you to talk to me, dear," said Sir Laurence, a little later taking a seat 278 Wilton, Q.C. beside his lady love on the grass-grown terrace. " I've something very particular to ask you." "'Well, I'm ready to answer if it's anything pleasant." "Awfully nice, I think, and I want you to do it for me, little woman." " All right, I will do anything nice ; I am your man ! Is it to go deer stalking with the Grindleys ? " " No, it's another kind of dear stalking altogether. I want you to fix a day for our wedding." " Do you call that awfully nice?" she asked mischievously. " Hulloa, hulloa ! " called a voice, which after the first start they recognised as the parrot's. " Yes, darling. I know you said we were not to think of marrying till next year, but " " Go away, go away," called the parrot. 11 I can't wait ; don't you see how thin and pale and all that kind of thing I'm getting? " 11 No, I can't say I do," and she put her little head on one side and screwed up her eyes and surveyed him critically. However, by the time the dressing gong sounded a day in November had been fixed, London decided upon for the ceremony, Italy for the honeymoon, while even the bridesmaids had been discussed to the accompaniment of Polly's " Kiss me ; kiss me quick." A suggestion from the feathered tribe Sir Laurence was not slow to follow. CHAPTER XIII. " DEERSTALKING." It had been arranged that some of the party should go to Mr. and Mrs. Grindley's shooting-box in Ross-shire for a few day's deer-stalking, before that sport was all over for the season. The lodge was not very large, and at first it was proposed that Mr. and Mrs. Grindley, Sir Laurence and Jean, and Mr. Fraser should make up the party ; Jean, however, insisted that Lorna must go too, as she had promised to show her everything worth seeing in the Highlands, and deer-stalking has a particular fascination of its own. It is like salmon-fishing, inasmuch as one may have to wait days without securing a prize. The lodge lay in a bleak, wild part of Ross-shire, lying between Cromarty Frith and Lochmaree. The " forest " extended for miles and miles, and with the exception of a couple of lodges, some seven miles apart, belonging to the owner, there was hardly a croft to disturb the solitude of the scene. The whole district was indeed wild and lonely, just the 280 Wilton, Q.C. sort of rugged solitude for the " noble stag to roam at will, sole monarch of the glen and hill." The morning after their arrival the party did not start much before eight o'clock, and some of them mounted Highland ponies to ride as far on their road as the path allowed. Sir Laurence, Grindley, and Mr. Fraser, with their rifles, two stalkers, a few gillies, and the two girls, composed the party, for Mrs. Grindley had several things to see to at home. The girls promised to do exactly as they were told, and not to speak a word, if they might only be permitted to see the sport from some coign of vantage. They each mounted a long-coated, thick-bodied Shetland pony, probably an importation from Iceland, which they rode astride. " I never let my ladies ride to the forest, or indeed anywhere in these wild parts, on side-saddles, " said Jack Grindley. u Am I to ride in that way?" asked Lorna, an excellent horsewoman, somewhat abashed. " Certainly, and if you are like every other woman I know, once having tried it, you will never wish to ride any other way. My wife says it is more comfortable and less tiresome over the rough ground." " Undoubtedly it is," capped his wife, " you know the abolition of the side-saddle is one of my little hobbies. " " Deerstalking" 28 1 " But what is your reason/' asked Lorna, surprised.. " I prefer a man's saddle for safety, for comfort, and for health. Of course, nothing is easier under ordinary circumstances than to stick on a side- saddle, because, once mounted the pommel almost holds you there. Therein lies danger. In the case of her horse falling, a woman cannot extricate herself. The very security of the seat causes her death, perhaps. Men can slip off easily, and are, therefore, generally none the worse for a fall." " And what about comfort ? " " If nothing be easier than to stick on a side- saddle, nothing is more difficult than to ride on one gracefully. In the first place, we have to sit crooked to look straight, so that the position even when walking is forced, and when the exertion of riding is required it becomes tiring. Many women cannot enjoy the exercise of horsemanship because their backs will not bear the strain of being twisted on a side-saddle. This charming mode of exercise is denied them, or rather they are debarred from it because Society says they must not ride like men, and Society is a hard task-master." " And do you consider a side-saddle really so much more tiring?" Lorna ventured. " Indeed I do. You as a horsewoman will know what I mean by the exertion of a ' double rise.' A very big horse, or one with an unusually long trot, sometimes necessitates a ' double rise.' The woman's 282 Wilton, Q.C. weight when out of the saddle is thrown on one leg, and that leg cannot possibly support her long enough in mid-air for the right moment of return to the saddle (to meet the big horse's trot), and thus she requires to rise twice to his once ! " 11 Yes, I understand that." " The man, as usual, has the advantage. His weight is equally distributed on both legs, and he finds no difficulty or fatigue whatever, in comparison with what a woman experiences. " " But about the appearance of the thing?" asked Lorna. 11 Nothing looks so smart, I own, as a woman well mounted on a side-saddle ; appearances in that case are all in her favour." "And yet you want to abolish the side-saddle," persisted Lorna. " Where I should wish side-saddles abolished is in the hunting field, and for real hard riding of any kind ; as much for the horse's sake as for that of the woman," continued the enthusiast. " I do not advocate men's saddles for the Park. The Park merely means a nice little showy ride of an hour or two, involving no fatigue. If a woman looks best on a side-saddle, there is no reason why she should not use one on all ordinary occasions ; but for real hard riding, appearances should hardly stand in the way of comfort, safety and health ! " " So many reforms are being continually accom- 1 ' Deerstalking. " 283 plished," said Grindley, " more especially reforms connected with human safety, that it seems strange indeed in this, the last quarter of the nineteenth century, women in England should still be risking their lives in pursuit of pleasure on a side-saddle ! " 11 It may surprise you to learn," continued his wife r " that South American women ride after the same fashion as men ; that in Albania, the Sandwich Islands, Japan, and Iceland they do likewise. Indeed r in many parts, where long distances over rough ground have to be accomplished, a side-saddle is not known." Riding originated no one knows exactly when or where ; but we do know from sacred writings that to Egypt we are ourselves indebted for the exercise. From Egypt it passed to Greece. Both in Homer and Herodotus we find whole passages on the art of horsemanship ; indeed the latter, in " Melpomene," speaks of Amazonian women " hunting on horseback with their husbands." This is perhaps the earliest mention made of women riding, and unfortunately it does not explain their mode of saddle or seat. " Men have always," said May, " as far as we know, in all countries ridden in much the same way as at present. Although the Romans rode in battle without bridles, guiding their horses by a whip, their seat was the same ; but it is doubtful if they used stirrups." " But what about women ?" enquired Lorna. " In England, at any rate, they rode man fashion 284 Wilton, Q.C. until the reign of Richard II., whose wife introduced that abomination, the side-saddle, when she came from Bohemia. Although she and her ladies rode sideways, however, men's saddles continued in almost universal use for women for nearly a century longer. Gradually given up for State occasions, they were ultimately abolished. Then came the day when women rode pillion fashion, a style which looks very pretty and picturesque in old pictures ; but how about the comfort of hanging on behind their male protector ; somewhere over the animal's tail, no doubt. Again, women have ridden, and do still ride on chair saddles or in panniers ; but that can hardly be a source of great pleasure or exercise, although it may be an effectual means of transport." " I remember once seeing a queer picture of a lady riding pillion," remarked Lorna. " There are many curious old prints of women riding," replied May Grindley, u and even more curious than their mode of doing so are the styles of dress adopted." " How do you mean ? " " A low bodice seems to have been of ordinary occurrence ; long flowing robes universal ; while headgears varied from a conical erection of two feet or more in height, to a plumed hat, which served in turn as umbrella or sunshade. Some of the costumes worn by women at grand tournaments, or falconing, seem, from the old costume books, to have been " Deerstalking." 285 most beautiful, as were the trappings of the horses themselves. When hawking, women invariably rode crossways. " I had no idea of that/' said Lorna. " Froissart in his writings," continued Mrs. Grindley, "gives a very interesting description of a tournament held in London to which sixty grand ladies, beautifully attired, rode on horseback, each lady leading her knight, with a chain of gold, to the tiltyard at Smithfield, there to witness the grand tournament about to be held. These good ladies rode on side-saddles, and they and their horses were so beautifully bedecked that they had to proceed from the Tower at a walk for fear of getting their toilettes disarranged." " What a contrast between the trappings and costumes of old and the simplicity of to-day!" observed Lorna, who, having tried the man's saddle, was much surprised to find she liked it. The party rode two or three miles to a point from which the keeper said he had seen deer early in the morning. They were a herd of about twenty stags, who had been away for a week or more, perhaps to the Cromarty Frith for sea baths and a few r meals of seaweed, no uncommon journey for deer. Here they dismounted, and, crouching on the ground, the sportsmen produced their field-glasses and telescopes and scanned the horizon. i( I don't see anything," said Grindley. " Where 286 Wilton, Q.C. did you see the deer, Mac ? " he asked, turning to the keeper. u Yonder," he replied, pointing with a grimy finger. A quarter of an hour, however, elapsed before anything definite was seen ; but then, Mac declared, that far away on the right he could see a stag and three hinds grazing. Not the original herd of stags, but one male who had . been faithful to his wife and family. Now the stalking was to begin. They would have to make a long detour, as the deer were grazing most provokingly in the wind, and they must come up against it, so that the deer should not scent the sportsmen and scamper off before they got within range. An hour and a half elapsed ere it was possible to come anywhere near them ; but, at the expiration of that time, a suitable rock having been selected, the girls were told to hide themselves and only peep over the top, when, with luck, they would see everything. Very obediently they settled them- selves down as comfortably as they could and waited, their brown and fawn clothing, made in the hand looms of Sutherlandshire, matching the colour of their surroundings so exactly that they were quite unnoticeable at a little distance. It was very hot, and the midges nearly drove them mad, their only solace being that they wore gauze veils. A fine. eagle soared overhead, and the u Deerstalking" 287 men naturally hoped that it would not spring the deer. The men had a sandwich with the girls before starting for their real stalk, and after many promises to fetch them later, or if the herd moved away to send a gillie to escort them home, the sportsmen, with their rifles still in their cases, for they can be seen for miles if uncovered, left with a hearty good- bye and all good w r ishes from the girls. " Now, good-bye, not a sound mind, and you may see something," laughed Sir Laurence, patting Jean affectionately on the back as he left. The men walked noiselessly on, dodging in and out of the rough boulders, now crawling, or again stopping perfectly still, nevertheless as they neared the game, the stag raised its noble head and scented the air. The men paused once more, scarcely daring to breathe, while the stag sniffed around. In a few minutes, however, as if re-assured, the animal resumed grazing. He was not quite easy in his mind though, and in a few minutes, after looking about him again, walked some fifty yards further away followed by the hinds. The men waited till the herd had quite settled down again, and then slowly crept towards them. They were getting nearer, but were still out of shot, and the deer seemed a little unsettled. The old stag evidently felt there was danger, but he did not know where. It was most exciting, and the girls waited behind their rock 288 Wilton, Q.C. almost breathless. Quite a long time elapsed, and yet the men did not move ; the girls, even with their glasses, could not see what they were doing, but remained crouching until the deer had settled down again. Then the men did not walk on, but grovelled along the ground, in and out of the gullies and behind rocks. Sometimes they would lie flat down and wait, at others they crawled ; but all so noiselessly that they gradually encroached unperceived upon the grazing ground. Mr. Fraser, being the chief guest, 'was to have the first shot at the stag, for there was only one in the little herd, so the other men fell back. Through a small stream the stalker crawled forward, and on he went, utterly regardless of poor Mr. Fraser, who was left struggling in the water, not being experienced in the difficult art of getting through rivers on all fours. The girls would feign have laughed aloud, but for the strict injunctions they had received to remain " absolutely quiet. " There were the men hidden behind a rock distant not more than about four hundred yards from the deer. There was Mr. Fraser still creeping on behind the stalker; he seemed to the girls to be quite near his stag, and yet he was still crawling along on hand and knee. What a moment of intense excitement. Old sportsman that he was, Mr. Fraser afterwards confessed he felt his heart go pit-a- pat against his side. He waited, not dreaming of firing before his hand was steady or being certain " Deerstalking ■." 289 that he was within shot, which he judged by the fact that he could distinguish the stag's ears. He scarcely dare breathe. Yet, settling himself in a comfortable posture behind a rock, with one knee bent, his left elbow resting upon it, he slowly raised his double-barrelled express rifle. The stag was at that moment about eighty-five yards off, and after a steady aim he fired, hitting a few inches behind the fore-leg and well in the body. The beast gave one high spring into the air and dropped down dead. The hinds scampered off to shelter. It was a splendid shot. No need for the tracker, a well-trained collie, to go in pursuit, for the stag was shot dead, as by every true sportsman he ought to be. There is no cruelty in this, all the odds are in the deer's favour; he knows his land, he has strength and speed, and a bound of a few paces will put him out of range. He suffers no pain if shot, and he is wanted for food ; better to be killed by a rifle than a butcher's knife. The party deserved their stag, for which they had a long and tedious stalk, but they were repaid, for he was a full-grown " Royal." The keepers at once gralloched him, and the men went back to the impatient and excited girls, sending the pony to fetch their " Royal," which was so big, weighing, as they found when they got him home, twenty stone, that the keeper had difficulty in drawing his feet and head on to the deer saddle. u 290 Wilton, Q.C. " Your Royal has a splendid head, with a span of nearly three feet, and the thickness of the horn is five and a half inches. It has fifteen tines (points) , which is a good number/' said Sir Laurence. u Yes, it is ; but a stag has been shot lately with twenty points, the first one of the kind for many years, I believe. It created quite a sensation in the sporting world," replied the victorious Fraser, not wishing to appear too elated with his good fortune. No one could feel more proud of their "head"' than the two girls of " theirs," as they pleased to call it. But who was to have it ? That was the question. They had each been promised a head as a memento of the day, and there was now only one prize. " Let us toss for it," they exclaimed in one breath. And toss for it they did, Lorna being made happy thereby and little Jean sad. One cannot always be successful in this life. But the loser got the promise of the next head as she looked so crestfallen, and Sir Laurence thought her even more bewitchingly delightful in her disappointment than ever, and spent a very charming half-hour promising to get her one all for her little self. " But it won't be a ' Royal/ perhaps ; that's what I want," she pouted. ■ Yes, it shall be a ' Royal ' ; if I stalk every day till the 20th you shall have a { Royal," darling." " But I don't want you to stalk every day, for then 1 ' Deerstalking. " 291 I shan't have you with me/' pleaded the naughty little woman. However, ultimately the knotty question was settled somehow to their entire satisfaction, and as Jean and Laurence walked off together she confided to him that Mr. Wilton was coming up to her Hallowe'en party. " Did he write to you, dear ? " "No, to Daddy; a much happier, brighter letter. He says he has lost a considerable sum by that clerk ; but that he won't be beggared as he feared, and then he adds, ' the man I spoke to you about is settled, and I have shipped him off to America, to a ranch in which I have some interest, where I hope he will get on all right, poor chap.' " " Who does he mean, darling? " " That's just what I asked Daddy, and he said that it was one of the clerks in Mr. Wilton's chambers who had embezzled some of his money, and that Mr. Wilton was most awfully good to him. The man had been with him for years, and Mr. Wilton knew he had a wife and family, and he was so awfully sorry that, for their sakes, he would not prosecute the man. He merely talked to him most seriously and explained the gravity of his fault, and told him that on account of his wife he would not have him sent to prison, but would pay all their passages out to Canada, and give him a chance, away from all the old temptations, of beginning life again." U 2 292 Wilton, Q.C. 14 That was awfully good of Wilton ; but I'm not surprised, somehow." 44 I think it was grand of hinj, because he lost a lot of money, and then even paid more to let the man have a chance. Oh, how that wife must bless such a master, and surely after such goodness the man will never do wrong again, will he ?" u He certainly ought not," said the baronet ; u that is what I call true charity and Christianity, and yet Wilton is not a man who pretends to either." 44 That is what I say ; he is so deep. We should never have heard all this, only that Mr. Wilton wanted to get the man on to a farm, so asked Daddy if he could help him. He behaves splendidly to everybody except poor Lorna, and if he doesn't make her happy this time I shall never forgive him — never." u You will have a jolly party for Hallowe'en, Jean." 44 Yes, I hope so. The Staintons are coming after all ; you know Mildred is one of my greatest friends, an old schoolfellow, in fact." 44 But surely she is much older than you, Jean ? " 44 Oh, yes, she is ; but still we are great friends, and Daddy likes all the Staintons as much as I do," she replied. As they were walking home they picked up a fine horn, much to Lorna's distress, for she thought some stag must have injured itself and broken it off. " Deerstalking" 293 " No, Miss Stracey," said Jack Grindley ; " deer cast their horns every year. A baby stag has no horn the first year, then comes a little soft one, full of arteries and veins, and covered with a pretty soft green velvety stuff. As this gets harder the blood solidifies, and makes the little knotty projections in the horn itself/' " And what makes them that lovely brown colour ?" " The stag does that himself by rubbing them on trees, or among heather ; but they always remain white at the tips." " And do you often find horns ? " " No, very seldom indeed ; for although they are cast every year, the deer either eat or bury them I believe. " "And how do you know how old a stag is ? " continued Lorna. 11 By his horns,. as you know the age of a tree by its rings, or a horse by its teeth. Each year adds a point or tine. Horns improve yearly till a stag is ten or twelve years old." " And how do you know a ' Royal ? ' " " Because he has six points on each side, and the finest form cups, as I will show you when I get home ; these are not common, consequently are much prized." The girls will never forget that day's deer- stalking. Not only because of the scenery and the 294 Wilton , Q.C. splendid Royal. The scenery was indeed beautiful — Ben Wyvis rising majestically on their left, before them Loch Fannich, far away on the right, the peak of Ben DeraSg, and behind them the pretty little Loch Glass, and Loch Moir. But not for this only will they remember that day, but because of the midges and flies. Never were poor people so pestered. They were deep, clammy, half dead sort of flies, resuscitated by the warm sun after the previous day's cold rain. They crawled over them ; they stuck to them ; they refused to be flicked away ; while the midges devoured them wholesale. They could hardly sit still, for at luncheon the affliction became simply maddening, and before evening great patches covered their faces, the stings in which even ammonia refused to soften. By far the happiest of the party was Mr. Grindley, who wore putties. He was an Anglo-Indian, and well accustomed to those leg bandages, which he wound round and round from the boot-top to the knee, declaring that, though they were not altogether watertight, they were a great support for hard walking, and effectually kept out midges, dust, stones, heather, and bramble. " And what is more/' said Jean, " they give you the air of a brigand or an Italian minstrel." '* Thank you, Mistress Sister-in-law-to-be," he said, " I'll tell what it is, Laurence, you will have " Deerstalking" 295 to keep this young woman in order, for she is calling me a brigand even before I am her brother-in- law. You had better be a brigandess yourself, Jean/' he continued; " the ladies in India often wear gaiters like mine. They are only adjusted after the fashion of a bandage, so that when once the knack is learnt the gaiters are quickly donned." They were all sitting in a wood under the pine trees, enjoying their late luncheon, as far as was possible with the pester of flies, and no one was talking much above a whisper — for deer are wofully shy and timid — when one of the party turned round to hand his plate for another helping of venison pie. " Look ! " he half gasped, and those who were fortunate enough to catch the word were rewarded by seeing five lovely deer bound across a cutting near at hand. They had evidently been grazing somewhere near, and hearing the noise, or scenting the party, were bounding off for safety. Pretty creatures they looked, as they flew over the heather and bracken into the pine forest. They were fallow deer, one of the three species found in Scotland. The largest and handsomest are the red, such as they had stalked in the wilder country that morning. But the fallow which are driven in parts of Sutherlandshire have the finest horns, that, although thick at the point, can do a great deal of mischief if put into use by an infuriated fallow deer. Their horns are their means of protec- 296 Wilton, Q.C. tion, and very fine weapons of defence they have often proved. As soon as luncheon was over, Mr. Fraser and Sir Laurence were ready to be off for another good stalk. The girls were very tired, indeed quite worn out, with their futile attempts to battle with the flies, accordingly the " Royal/' looking magnificent on his pony, and Lorna and Jean, mounting their steeds, started for home, accompanied by their host. The rest of the party went after the herd of stags to reconnoitre their whereabouts for the morrow r . " We have had a lovely day/' said Jean, " and I am glad we've seen so much." " : Yes," said Lorna, " and what beautiful creatures deer are." " Farmers do not appreciate their beauty," said the little Scotch girl, " for they come down from the high ground and destroy their crops, and therefore it is absolutely necessary to keep them down a little. Luckily they afford good sport and are excellent eating, so that everyone profits by a certain number being shot off every year." " I thought some persons wanted to do away with the deer forests ? " said Lorna. " Many people say they should be done away with, and that they prevent the crofter from tilling the land, but that's all nonsense. If the late Duke of Sutherland could not make money out of the land " Deer stalking y 297 he reclaimed at such an enormous expense, how is the wretched crofter to make anything out of stones or peat ? Far better keep the deer forests, and let the landowners make an income by letting them for sport, and the crofters pick up what they can as beaters to the owners of large shooting boxes." M Come along Jean and Miss Stracey," said Jack Grindley, interrupting Miss Frasers disquisition, " and I'll introduce you to a great character, who lives at that little croft you see yonder." And away they rode over stones and heather to what looked like a grass grown hillock. " Where is the croft?" Lorna asked, not seeing anything in the least resembling one. " Why there it is," Mr. Grindley answered, " that mound all moss covered." And sure enough the hillock turned out to be a human habitation ! There was a worm-eaten door painted purple, with which the sun and storm had dealt gently, making it really artistic in colour, while near the door was a small window a foot square at most, beneath which f leaning against the house, stood a purple-painted shutter, but the thatch projected so far over the window that the girls wondered shutters should ever be necessary. Jack Grindley hammered at the door, which, being old and somewhat dilapidated, almost seemed inclined to give way. 298 Wilton, Q.C. u Why, Mr. Grindley, you knock loudly enough to waken the dead/' exclaimed Lorna. " You are nearer right than you think, for the old woman who lives here is very deaf," and he knocked louder than before. Gradually the rasping sound of a rusty bolt was heard, the door opened, and there before them stood an awfully wrinkled, dirt-begrimed old woman. She did not look as if she had washed for half a century, each wrinkle was emphasised by being lined with dirt, and between the deepened furrows the skin was dried up and yellow. Her locks were grey and straggly, and short coarse hairs stood out unmanageably from her face. She positively grinned with delight when she saw Mr. Grindley, and showed a magnificent row of spotlessly white, and faultlessly regular teeth, such as any young girl might have been proud of. " How are you to-day?" asked Grindley, taking the horny-knuckled hand in his and kindly shaking it, to the old woman's manifest joy. " We have brought you a little of our luncheon. You will like that, won't you ? " " Aye, aye, I havena tasted a bite o' meat since you gave it me yourseP last autumn." Poor old thing, she had lived for three-quarters of a century in the little croft. When her mother died fifty years before, she was left quite alone. She had never tasted anything but porridge or potatoes all her life, except when some distant neighbour brought u Deerstalking y 299 her such a luxury as a can of milk, or she had been left the scraps of a shooting luncheon. But she had one joy, and a real joy it was to her, a pipe. She invited the " leddies " inside, and for a few minutes they managed to survive the awful atmos- phere of the little room, where the only air available struggled through the door chinks, and the only light through the foot-square window. " You must show these ladies your blankets, " suggested Grindley. " Of course I will," and the old body at once produced from her bed and a cupboard the blankets that she had spun and woven herself fifty or sixty years before. "What an awfully lonely, shabby, desolate place," said Lorna, quite horrified as they turned away. " Yes, but I've offered to re-build it for her or do anything in reason for her comfort, and she won't hear of it. -It'll just see me out,' she always replies, and so she lives on alone from year to year, apparently quite happy and contented." " What a terrible life to lead. I hope there are not many so desolate as that poor soul." " Well, there is one other awful croft on my property, and there also the people refuse to have anything done for them. He is a man of ninety-six, who speaks of his spouse (a couple of years his junior) as his ' wee wifie.' She is quite blind, and he is so gouty and rheumatic he can hardly move ; but 300 Wilton, Q.C. nothing will induce them to alter the condition of their lives. " " If the wife is blind how do they manage to keep the place clean," asked Miss Stracey practically. u They are beyond doing much for themselves, but get tidied up now and again by a neighbour. And they refuse to alter their lives for anyone. Some of my other tenants, however, fall into the other extreme, and want more than they can in reason expect to get." When the party reached home they found the two children standing in the drive waiting to receive them, dressed in their helmets and swords, which they dearly loved. " Oh, Dad, do you know," burst from Harry's lips almost before his father was near enough to hear, the little man's face beaming all over with delight and excitement, " do you know, Dad, God has sent some little kittens into the cupboard in the kitchen. There was five," he continued breathlessly, " but three have gone into the country ! " " Fancy ! " replied Dad, " and can they see ? " " Not now," put in Baby. M They eyes is shut ; but cook says they will open them when they's littler ! " His father caught the cherub-faced boy in his arms and kissed him. " You mustn't kiss me, I'm a soldier ; soldiers don't get kissed," said the child in accents of grave rebuke. M Deerstalking" 301 Turning to Miss Stracey, Jack Grindley explained that the said cat was a half Persian, and a great favourite of the boys, with whom it went for walks, following them like a dog, and that even in London it accompanied them down Oxford-street and Regent-street under the " go-cart," and when tired jumped up on the seat beside Baby and had a ride. " Where's your shoots?" asked Harry as soon as he had got over his excitement about the kittens, and followed by the mischievous little villain of a puppy, their father marched them off to the kennels to see the stag before it was dressed. Of course they were delighted, wanted to know how they " shooted him," and asked all sorts of impossible questions. " Why, what is the matter with the puppy ; he's all black?" asked Mr. Grindley. "Yes; he won't come clean neither," answ r ered Harry. " He's been in Mary's cupboard and eaten up the brushes what she does the grates with, and that's black paint all over him ; what Mary puts on the grates," and he solemnly nodded. u Oh, you dreadful brace of boys ! I don't know really which is the worst, the boys or the puppy," sighed poor Mrs. Grindley, smothering a smile as she spoke. " They will be the death of me," and she linked her arm into her future sister-in-law's. u I love them and their pranks," replied the girl. " Other people's children are always so much 302 Wilton, Q.C, better behaved than one's own," sighed poor Mrs Grindley ; " yet one's own are always so much nicer." " That's a capital sentiment, and a very true one," laughed Jean, who was already devoted to her two newly-acquired nephews. " Fancy, last night after they were put to bed, and everything was quiet," continued May Grindley, " Henrietta, hearing the sound of a match being struck, jumped up and opened the nursery door. There, in the dark, were the two young rogues in Baby's little crib, while a strong smell of something burning filled the room. It seemed that, after Henrietta left them, Harry must have slipped out of bed and got the matches from the chimney-piece^ then, getting into Baby's cot, they covered them- selves with a sheet to make a tent, and struck the matches. Poor Baby's nightgown was riddled with holes, and so was the sheet." " How awful ! " said Jean. " This morning I have been remonstrating and delivering a grave lecture on the wickedness and the sinfulness of playing with fire, suggesting to Harry how he might have burnt poor Baby all up, like the poor little girl in their dearly-loved ' Streuwelpeter ' book. " Oh, he could not be like that, Mum," said Harry, " 'cause she was a she, and Baby's a he ! " '"They are scamps," laughed Jean. "They are M Deerstalking." 303 always on the rampage, except when you are reading to them, May, and then the way they both cuddle up to you in the big armchair, and listen by the hour, is delightful to behold." " Yes, they love being read to, and, unfortunately r they like old things best ; and if I miss a single word they correct me, for although they know their books off by heart, they like to have them read again." " Only the other day," continued Mrs. Grindley,. u I found them sitting together on the sofa, each holding on to a leg of the struggling puppy, while Harry was reciting word for word to Baby that old German text ' Streuwelpeter.' ' I am 'tending read- ing/ he said gravely, ' I'm Mum and the puppy's me!'" " Can he read ? " asked Jean. " Not a word. He is not five yet, and I won't have him taught anything till he is seven. I couldn't read till I was twelve myself." " Harry told me he was five," said Jean. u That's his own idea. There are nearly two years between them, so he was four and baby two until the other day, when baby had a birthday, which made him three. ' If baby's three I must be five,' said Harry, ' 'cause I'm always two more than he is.' And the young man couldn't understand the arrange- ment, and was quite hurt, until I told him he was four and three-quarters, with which he was quite 304 Wilton, Q.C. pacified, feeling the three-quarters to be something very grand indeed/' At that moment back bounced the boys. Harry quietly took Lorna's hand and said, " I'll marry you when I'm a big man." He looked a very small man, this wee lad in sailor trousers and blouse, besides the handsome, tall girl. " But I'm so tall ; what will you do with me ? " I'll grow; and if I don't grow you can take my arm, and I'll call you my dear." " And how shall we be married ? " " That's married, taking arms and saying, 'My dear,' " he wisely added, such being the child's idea of matrimony. Suddenly he asked, " Are you very old?" " I don't know. What do you think ? " " I think you are very old, but you're not as old as granny." And the pair walked off arm-in-arm, o married, according to the little boy's ideas. Lorna laughed, although this was hardly the husband she had pictured for herself ! And while she laughed a sad look passed over her face. CHAPTER XIV. " HALLOWEEN." A PARTY had assembled at The Hirsel for Hallowe'en. The shooting season was practically over, and almost all the English visitors and tourists had left Scotland, or were wending their way back to the South. Jean had issued invitations for her final entertain- ment in the character of Miss Fraser. " My last spinster party," she sighed, " and I want it to be jolly, so I have asked everyone nice I can think of. Lorna must not go back to London until she has ducked for apples and burnt her nuts ! " It was the thirty-first day of October; the glorious reds and yellows of early autumn had died away, and the leaves had nearly all fallen to the accom- paniment and sigh of the wind, dropping one by one, and strewing the earth with that beautiful brown colouring we love, while it passes away almost like a shadow. Still The Hirsel was looking very ^beautiful, and the huge roaring fires in all the rooms only made the dear old home seem all the more homely. x 306 Wilton, Q.C\ It was not a big house party. Mr. Fraser and Jean, Hugh and Bea Lempriere, Captain Urquhart (who had been away with his regiment for a couple of months), and Fitzroy Bagshot. Since we last saw that gentleman he had taken little tours to Doncaster, Warwick, Manchester, Newmarket, San- down and Lincoln races, and, as he put it, M just run up to the Frasers for a day or two on his way South. " No one exactly knew how The Hirsel, being some hundreds of miles north, could possibly be on Mr. Bagshot's way south from Lincoln ! but he seemed to be so convinced that it was, that not a person ventured to express doubt. How strangely routes alter, when our inclinations tend to make them unite. Thus wags the world ! Lord and Lady Stainton were also of the party, with their charming daughter Mildred, a constant visitor at The Hirsel. They had returned from their autumn yachting cruise on the West coast earlier than usual on purpose to accept Mr. Fraser's most pressing invitation ; and Mr. Wilton was expected in time for dinner. There were several other visitors, but, although amusing companions, they played no part in our little domestic drama, and passed on and off the stage as supers to the chief performers. Lorna was in high spirits. She had received a telegram from Alf Curtis telling her he had just got a capital appointment, and the young fellow in his " H allow e' en' ' 307 excitement and gratitude put at the bottom of the telegram, " thanks solely to you. n Is there any woman in the world who would not have been proud of those four words, for were they not true ? Was it not she who had helped the young fellow to work, and encouraged him by her sympathy and interest to win a position for himself ? For the time she almost forgot Wilton, and felt happy again, as she wove little plans for Alfs future. She saw him clear of his detested exams., which to him had always been such a terrible bugbear ; for, although naturally clever, he was one of those people who never distinguish themselves in such trials. She was overjoyed that he had passed his final, and been rewarded with an appointment in the diplomatic service, and now she felt sure he would rapidly climb the ladder of fame. He was a good fellow, and she knew it. An honest, straightforward English gentleman, with all the strength of a giant and all the tenderness of a woman. She knew this ; but — and it was a very big " but " — she did not love him. She was still dressing for dinner, and giving those finishing touches that denote a well dressed woman, when a tap at the door was accompanied by Jean's voice, saying : " May I come in?" " Of course you may." Without waiting for more, Jean burst forth, indignantly : x 2 308 Wilton, Q.C. " Mr. Wilton is not coming after all. It is too bad, really preposterous. Fancy, when the carriage got to the station they found this telegram : ' Please accept regrets, prevented at the last moment by important business engagement in connection with great libel case. Extremely sorry/ " " I call it most annoying and most inconsiderate/ r continued Jean, really feeling more annoyed because her little plan had been frustrated than because the guest had actually excused him- self. For had she and Sir Laurence not carefully talked it all over and decided the only cure for Lorna' s pale face was a chat with the grave barrister ? And now he was not coming. Poor Lorna ! The day had broken so brightly — she expected Wilton before its close, and now — Jean seeing her distressed look, gave her a great big hug and silently left her. How sad she felt ! What a strange feeling had come over her. By a great effort she thrust the thought of Wilton aside as she fastened the flowers in her dress and decided Alf s news was now doubly welcome, for although Lorna would not admit it to herself, she was deeply hurt by Wilton's excuses for not joining the party at the last moment. Yes. She felt glad she was all the world to someone, that there w r as someone who really cared for her, someone over whom she had exercised an influence for good. "Hallowe'en" 309 The thought of Alf was like balm poured on a sore wound. Poor Lorna ! " Daddy, you look sad," Jean exclaimed, as she found her father standing alone in the drawing- room before the guests assembled for dinner. She saw a look in her father's eyes she had often seen of late. " It is nothing, dear. Only the thought of losing you makes me a little sorrowful sometimes, lassie, which only shows what a selfish old chap I am, eh ? M " No, Daddy, not selfish. I am glad you are sad, really. Oh ! how I should hate you to be glad." " My life will be a lonely one, my child, and my heart aches at times when I think of it, while it is joyous at others when I see your happiness. " " But you are always to live with us, Daddy, whenever you like — and you will like often, won't you ?" she said, nestling up against her father. " Yes, darling, yes." And he patted the girl's cheek. These two had been all in all to one another since the Laird lost his wife some years before, and as the days of parting drew nearer, the poor old man could not help picturing to himself the great, gaunt mansion, and the town house, without the sprightly enjoyment-loving little maid, who seemed to bring happiness wherever she trod. They could not talk for long, however — just as 310 Wilton , Q.C. well, perhaps, because it was a painful subject to both of them — for the guests rapidly assembled for dinner, and the butler came to ask Miss Jean if he could speak to her for a minute. " Please Miss, innkeeper Robertson and his wife want to see you for a moment, if you could spare the time." Such an unusual request from such worthy folk must certainly be acceded to, so down to the servants' hall the girl ran. There, sitting side by side dressed in their best, were the elder and his spouse, and between them lay a large parcel done up in an old copy of the Inverness Courier. Mrs. Robertson dropped a curtsey, Mr. Robert- son made a bow, as the girl shook hands with, and wished them good evening. " If you please, Missie, we have taken the liberty of bringing a little wedding remember for you, Mem. John, gie the leddy the book." " Oh ! how very kind of you, thank you so much," and she took the parcel from John Robertson's hands. Putting it on the red-clothed table, she undid the string, and throwing back the paper disclosed a huge family Bible. 11 Will you please to read it, Missie, every day, if I may be so bold," said the wife, " but I'm sure you're a guid young leddie, Mem, and will lead a holy life in fear of the Lord." Hallowe'en" 311 " It is very good of you both — and I thank you more than I can say." " Maybe if you're too busy to read the holy word in the vairses every day, Mem, you may find consolation in dropping you're eye o'er the pictures, whateffer." " I will try," said Jean, quite affected by the impressive manner of her visitors, and turning over the pages, she found the most marvellous illustra- tions mortal eye could wish to see, while here and there verses were marked for her special perusal. " Good-bye for the present, Mrs. Robertson," said the girl, " my guests are waiting for me to go in to dinner, but I will never forget your kind words and your generous gift." And she left the old folk quite contented, as they murmured " May the Lord be with you." Dinner over on that Hallowe'en night, the curtains were drawn, the big pine logs crackled on the hearth, and the little party assembled in the hall for the fun of the day. All the Hallowe'en games, or rather superstitions, are strangely matrimonial, and tend to forecast the future in this interesting particular. Every maid and man tries to discover by one or other of the old formulae the name, profession, and so forth, of her or his future husband or wife, and the means adopted to obtain information are strange indeed. Hallowe'en, which means the " Feast of Peace," 312 Wilton, Q.C. in Gaelic called " Samhuinn," is a festival probably handed down from Druidical times. It is full of superstition even to-day, and all sorts of supernatural influences are said to prevail on the eve of All Saints. The games, for games they really are nowadays, are always played on the evening of the thirty-first of October every year. They are games played in terrible earnest amongst the less educated classes, and while the old still firmly believe in them, the young have a hankering that way. Fairies, ghosts, and all sorts of spirits are said to walk abroad, and in the olden days, all the youth of Scotland used to run round their homestead boundaries with flaming torches in order to protect themselves from evil spirits. This is still said to be done in some parts, although the universal custom became extinct about 1790, when the last Baal's fire was lighted in Ayrshire. " Come along now T ," sa *d Mr. Fraser, leading the way with Lady Stain ton to the hall, " I reverence all Hallowe'en superstitions." " Do you really ? " said Lord Stainton. " Yes. To be without superstition is, in my opinion, to be without religion. I am very Scotch about my superstitions, and delight in these games so graphically described by Burns in his poem of 1 Hallowe'en/ Jean, where's the cream?" The little housewife had prepared a large basin of frothed cream, which was placed on a table, round 11 Hallowe'en." 313 which the whole party gathered. Each person was given a spoon, and Jean in the sight of everyone dropped a ring, a sixpence, a halfpenny, and a button into the bowl. She then gave the cream one stir, after which there ensued a scramble, every person trying to obtain a spoonful of the cream that had to be swallowed. This spoonful each one hoped would contain the ring, in which case it was assumed the fortunate finder would be happily married before next Hallowe'en. He, or she who had the misfortune to get the sixpence or the button would remain for ever in single blessedness, and the one who got the half- penny would have a year of bad luck. Much to everyone's amusement Mildred secured the ring, and, as she was not engaged to anyone, her good fortune proved all the more exciting, and she got tremendously chaffed for keeping it all so dark ; she who was " never going to marry anyone," as she had always said. The host teazed her tremendously for being so quiet and reserved about this unknown gentleman, and then went off by himself and mysteriously placed a couple of nuts on the bars of the grate, which he watched silently while they heated. No one seemed to notice the performance, much less did anyone guess what was in the old gentleman's mind. Having watched them burn, with a quiet little chuckle he moved away, seemingly well pleased 3 H Wilton, Q.C. with the result, and entered into conversation with his future son-in-law, whom he was learning to like more and more, while trying to grow reconciled to the loss of his daughter, feeling well sure that she was gaining a good husband. " Why, Bagshot, what are you doing?" cried Sir Laurence, seeing the little man spluttering over some- thing. " No cheating, mind, what have you got?" Coughing more and more, and getting red in the face, the little man ultimately displayed the sixpence, over which he had nearly choked. He was very angry. He had " no intention of being an old bachelor," he disclaimed the idea, and Captain Urquhart's chaffing remarks were almost more than he could bear. He hated Urquhart, whom he looked upon as a deadly rival, and the two men were hardly civil. Bea was evidently very anxious to try " dropping the egg," her own particular fancy, she declared. There was a good deal of chaff as to what she hoped to find before she was permitted to follow her whim, and a promise was elicited from her to let the albumen decide her fate, and that she would marry the man whose profession was indicated by the charm. " Oh yes, of course the albumen shall decide my fate," she said laughingly, taking her fresh egg between her fingers and carefully puncturing it with a pin. u Hallowe } en" 315 Into a tumbler of water she dropped the white of the egg, which took many curious turns and twisted itself into many strange forms. An excited brain can easily discern an anchor, a sword, a pen, a spade, a violin, anything in fact, and whatever that anything may be, is emblematic of the profession or trade of the future husband. All this is cheerful and amusing ; but, alas ! there is some- times another side, for it may be that the albumen resolves itself into a coffin or a skull, in which case death and not marriage is regarded as the maiden's portion, while a winding sheet with a rent in it w T ill signify some violent and terrible death. Eagerly Bea watched the line of the albumen forming into shape, and after a moment called out, " The root of a tree, I am going to marry a forester." " No, no," cried Captain Urquhart, who had been eagerly looking over Bea's shoulder, " it's a sword." " Of course you say so," almost growled Bagshot, " that's the worst of you army fellows, you never can leave your damned soldiering behind you." Which remark so evidently displeased Bea that she looked up frowning. Seeing Bea's annoyance at his remark, the jealous little man marched off to be instructed in the mysteries of the " plate charm," which Jean was trying to explain to Lorna. " You see these three plates standing in a row. 316 Wilton, Q.C •One is filled with clean water, one with sooty water, .and the third is empty." " Yes ; and now what is to happen?" inquired Lorna. " I blindfold somebody, you for instance, and, after changing the position of the plates, lead you to them ; you must then dip your hand into one. If your fingers go into the plate of clean water, Lorna, you will get a nice young husband before next Hallowe'en, if into the dirty water an old one, probably a widower ; and if you put them into the empty plate no husband at all." " All right, I'm ready," cried Lorna. " Here's a handkerchief," volunteered Bagshot, and in another moment it was bound across Lorna' s eyes, then after twirling her round three times, Jean said : " You are opposite the plates now, so go and try your luck." Walking slowly across the room the blindfolded girl made her way towards the table. " Am I opposite the plates ?" she asked. " Yes, exactly ; " answered Jean, on the tip-toe of excitement, inwardly hoping the girl's hand w T ould find its way into the dirty water, suspecting where Lorna' s inclinations lay. For a moment the girl held her hand over the plates as if undecided where to drop it, then suddenly it fell. "Hallowe'en." 3*7 It was not quite by accident perhaps that she daintily dipped her taper fingers into what was once called "fair water." u And now," said Jean, somewhat disappointed, " let us all draw round the fire and burn our nuts, and see what fortune, good or ill, they will predict. Here's the dish, and we girls will begin. Each of us must take two nuts, one for herself and one to represent somebody else. The ' Somebody/ " she added, with a roguish twinkle in her eyes. M Have you done that ? Then place them side by side on the top bar of the grate, and we shall see what we shall see." Jean chose her two nuts and put them in position, whereupon there was much laughter, as of course there could be no doubt as to whom her second nut represented. " No uncertainty there, eh, Jean ? " said Hugh Lempriere. " Yes there is. One never can tell what may happen ; just you wait and see." Lorna put a nut for herself and one for — who dare say ? Bea followed with her unknown. 11 Now Mr. Bagshot," cried Jean, " just room left on the bar for you to try your luck with ours. The other men must wait till our fate has been decided." Whereupon Bagshot, very much in earnest and apparently taking the matter quite to heart, went through the necessary ceremonial. 318 Wilton, Q.C. Jean and her " somebody " spluttered away very •contentedly, till suddenly Miss Fraser's nut began to fizz and smoke, and finally hopped away from its companion, still fizzing angrily ; then it rolled back again to its former place, and settled down quietly. " Breakers ahead/' laughed Mr. Fraser, " you must keep a look out, Laurence. But I'm glad you thought better of it, Jean, and came back again." Lorna's nut burned steadily, while her chosen •companion lit up fiercely, and fell into a little heap •of grey ash. " Look," said Lorna, " at Bea, burning in that quiet methodical fashion, while nothing seems to make her ' young man ' emit even a spark ; why, Bea, you are evidently destined to be one of those dear, delightful, happy old maids no one can get on without." " And how are the Fates dealing with you, Mr. Bagshot ? " at last asked Jean, who had hitherto been absorbed in her own divination. " Beastly hard lines on a fellow," he answered, '" she hopped off as far as she could, and left me lamenting." " Oh, she's not worth breaking your heart about. Choose another, and try your luck again old chap," said Captain Urquhart, chaffing him. Bagshot felt he hated the speaker with the hatred born of jealousy. However, Bagshot tried again, but alas ! matters Hallowe'en" 319 went from bad to worse, for, though after a good deal of coaxing the second did at last ignite, she only burned for an instant, and then with a sharp snappish fizz popped into the middle of the fire ! " Deserted again/' cried Jean, laughing heartily, till, seeing how much annoyed poor Bagshot was, she added, " try another, girls are not all cold or fickle." Thus advised he did try again, but only with the same unsatisfactory result, so the poor little man, really quite downhearted, gave it up as " no go," and slipped away to the far end of the hall to grieve alone. Bea, ever kind to anyone in distress, followed him shortly, and in her kind sympathetic way said • " Mr. Bagshot, the Fates seem against us. We are in the same box. I am to be an old maid, and your young woman won't have anything to say to you; so we must just try and cheer up each other and make the best of things." " You're too philosophical for a chap like me. I know I'm a d fool ; but I feel jolly low Miss Lempriere, and that's the truth." " Now I've come to talk to you, that is a poor compliment to me, Mr. Bagshot ; but this is a very dark corner. Let us join the others." " No. I like the dark — it suits my mood. Do you know the deaf and dumb alphabet ? " he suddenly asked. 320 Wilton, Q.C. " Yes. Every school boy and girl learns that, I think/' she replied, carelessly. " Let's try it, then. It has one great advantage, no one hears what you're saying." Thereupon he made a few casual remarks on his fingers, which she understood, and replied to in the same ingenious fashion. Finding the plan succeeded, he became bolder, and, to the surprise of the girl, spelt out : "ARE YOU HEARTLESS?" She hardly knew how to answer such an extra- ordinary question, asked in so strange a manner, so merely shook her head. Nothing daunted, he formed his fingers into the letters again, and she read, though she did not think she could have read aright : "WILL YOU BE MY WIFE?" She thought she had misunderstood. Such a pro- position would have been preposterous ; but, feeling intensely the awkwardness of the moment, and fearing to jump too rashly at a conclusion, she murmured : " I don't understand." "WILL YOU BE MY WIFE?" he repeated in the deaf and dumb alphabet. If there were any doubt in her mind this time, a rapid glance at his face dispelled it. There he stood, leaning against the heavy tapestry window curtain, gazing down at her in a manner quite unmis- takable, even without word or sign. u Hallow e* en." 32 1 Poor Bea was overwhelmed with surprise. The situation was terrible — such a question, at all times embarrassing, and any answer, whatever it might be, was well nigh impossible with a room full of people. She felt like a prisoner in the dock — escape was out of the question, and all eyes were upon her. Every moment made the situation more awkward ; yet how was she to reply to such an unexpected question ? " Forgive me, Mr. Bagshot," she said, in a voice so low that was almost inaudible, " if I have ever done anything to deserve this ; only oh, Mr. Bagshot, I like you, very much — as a friend, but it is impossible." u Don't say that," he almost hissed in her ear, " don't — don't say that ! " " I must say it, for it is true," repeated poor Bea, the words almost choking her as she framed them. " Forget all about this, and let us be friends again," and in her open-heartedness she held out her hand. He seized and holding it until she almost cried out with pain, he exclaimed : " Friends ! d friends. Oh, I beg your par- don ; but if you'll be my wife I'll never swear again, never race again, never do anything again that you don't approve." " Please don't talk like that, you simply make me miserable," replied the sympathetic Bea. " It can never, never be. Why," with an assumed air of Y 322 Wilton, Q.C. gaiety, " my nuts said I was to be an old maid, and of course I must abide by my fate." << J) the nuts ; mine said I was to be dis- appointed, and I'll be hanged if they haven't turned out right. Oh, Miss Bea, dear Miss Bea, let us cheat our nuts ! " he said pathetically. " Impossible. Quite impossible. My nuts have assured my fate, and I am going to be a dear, delightful old maid, in a white lace cap, knitting stockings, and followed about by a wheezy old pug," she laughed, with forced gaiety. "We must always submit to our fate, you know, Mr. Bagshot." 11 Confound fate and d the nuts ! " 11 Hush, fie ! You must abide by the Hallowe'en answer." CHAPTER XV. "THE TEMPLE." tl What glorious chrysanthemums ! But what a pity the glasshouse is so small, that it does not show them to better advantage." It was Lorna who spoke, and her companion was her mother. The two ladies had driven to the Temple Gardens to look at the flowers, then in full beauty. After admiring the glorious colours, the queer shapes and turns of the petals, the enormous ragged Japanese blooms, and the tiny little pompons, all of which chrysanthemum growers have made so perfect, that the original Chinese specimen would not know or recognise its own offspring, the mother and daughter were turning to leave, when two men walking arm in arm entered, and stood aside to let the ladies pass. In one of them Lorna instantly recognised Wilton, and, with some hesitation, intro- duced him to her mother. His friend turned out to be an old acquaintance of Mrs. Stracey's, who immediately began to talk to her. Y 2 324 Wilton, Q.C. " Fancy those magnificent flowers being the outcome of a mere daisy/' said Mrs. Stracey. "Yes," replied Sir Frederick Manners, who was himself a chrysanthemum grower, " and it is only one hundred years since they were first introduced into England. See those beautiful Chinese specimens?" " I don't care so much for them, they look as if they had been curled with tongs ! " laughed the lady. " They have been helped with a wire, which is almost the same," the gentleman replied. "But look at these new specimens of ragged Japanese, are they not a splendid size — and these resembling anemones, or, again, that new hairy specimen." After the interchange of a few such remarks, the four wandered round the old gardens, famous since the days when the roses of York and Lancaster were first plucked. What memories the old Temple Gardens conjure up ! The lawyers of old did not live in the Temple because they wanted to be near the Courts, which lay in a diametrically opposite direction, and yet for five hundred years or more the lawyers have had their chambers on the City side of Temple Bar. No one knows why, because their business until just lately called them to Westminster Hall. Were the libraries the attraction ? one naturally asks, when one learns that nearness to their work was not the motive of the lawyers' location, but in " The Temple." 325 reply we are told that so far from the libraries being the attraction, until the beginning of this century they were nothing to speak of, but so small and ill-arranged that actually the Inner Temple had to refuse, for want of accommodation, the famous eight thousand volumes offered by John Selden, now happily reposing in the Bodleian at Oxford. Every Londoner loves the Temple, even if only for its associations with Spencer, Dr. Johnson, Oliver Goldsmith, Charles Lamb, not to mention the " History of Pendennis," " Great Expectations," not to speak of many another delightful romance, and Wilton revelled in its queer courts and historic alleys. " Have you heard of Mr. Fraser's engagement ?" asked Lorna, trying to speak as if Mr. Wilton had always been a mere common-place acquaintance. " No indeed, I have not. Is he really engaged, and to whom ? " " To one of Jean's greatest friends, the daughter of Lord Edward Stainton. We are all delighted with his choice. " " I am glad it is a subject for congratulation.'' " A matter for genuine congratulation ! You see Jean's only grief about her own wedding, which is to take place next week, was leaving her father all alone. And now he won't be alone." "It is very dreary to live alone," observed the barrister in his old sad way. His tone so touched Lorna that, not thinking of 326 Wilton, Q.C. what she was saying, she asked : " Why did you disappear so suddenly from The Hirsel, Mr. Wilton?" u Because I did not think you cared particularly about my remaining/' he almost jerked out. " What a very unkind remark. Did I then give you reason to think I wished you to go away ? I thought we were very good friends in the Highlands, where you suddenly passed out of my life like the shadow of a dream. " " Every day and hour I regret that pleasant time at The Hirsel cannot come back again — that time which you made so pleasant." M Well, you evidently do not desire that I should make any future time pleasant for you," said the girl, trying to speak lightly. " I returned to London six weeks since, and you have never yet called." " I stayed away for the simple reason that I heard you did not want to see me ; that my presence annoyed you." Lorna stopped as if shot. " Who said so?" she asked. " Mrs. Jackson." " Mrs. Jackson told you that I did not want to see you ! " she repeated incredulously. u When and where ? " " On the last day of my stay at The Hirsel ; the day we all went fishing." " The Temple" 327 " She told you such a falsehood — and you believed her?" " Yes, she told me that and much more. But I should scarcely have believed her, had I not seen your father on my return to town." " What are you talking about, what does this all mean ? " asked the bewildered girl. " You don't even know my father, how then could he tell you anything ? " " I went to see him the day I returned to town, and he told me you were engaged to be married, or at least that he hoped you very soon would be, to the son of an old friend of his, a young man he approved of in every way, who had just obtained an excellent appointment in the diplomatic service. May I congratulate you, Miss Stracey?" he added in a constrained voice, his lips quivering as they framed the words. " No, no/' burst from the girl. ? How could you believe so easily ? " The bitter tone left him, the hard expression in his eyes melted as he exclaimed, " It was not true then, none of it was true ? Tell me, for God's sake tell me, it was all a mistake. Can it be possible that one so good, so sweet, as you could have cared to see me again ? " " Cared to see you again ! Mr. Wilton, I felt much hurt at your not having even tried to see me again. We had been such good friends in the 328 Wilton, QC. Highlands. Oh ! I did feel hurt at your not even saying ' Good-bye/ V " Come, Lorna, what a long time you are," called her mother. " We have been waiting quite an age. I shall hope to see you again very soon, Sir Frederick, and you too, Mr. Wilton ; we are always at home on Sunday." The gentlemen took off their hats, and in a moment the smart Victoria was rolling away along the Embankment to Buckingham Gate. Almost without waiting to take leave of his friend, Wilton hurried back to his chambers in Pump Court. Up the steps he bounded, opened the massive oak door bearing his name, entered his private room, and with a deep sigh buried his head in a pile of briefs lying on his table. When he lifted his face, the twilight had turned to dusk, and dusk was merging into night. He rose up wearily, and fetching a lamp from the heavy bookcase, filled with its unsympathetic rows of law reports, " statutes and digests/' lighted and placed it on his writing-table. Then he poked the fire, piled up the coals, and crossing to the old-fashioned windows, drew the thick curtains, the rings of which rasped the pole, the while a small shower of dust descended on his head. For some minutes he stood beside the writing- table in deep thought, as if undecided what to do, his hands buried in his trouser pockets. The Temple" 329 Then seating himself in his revolving-chair, he drew a small bunch of keys from his pocket, and unlocked a drawer on his right. Almost without looking down, his fingers imme- diately found an envelope, from which he drew forth a small bunch of faded flowers. Love is a bundle of incongruities. With a passionate kiss he pressed them to his lips, " Lorna, Lorna," he murmured. They were the poor little faded remnants of the sprig of heather which he had picked up when Lorna let it fall before the accident on the moor, and as the glorious purple colouring had faded from their bells, so the momentary glimpse of joy that then filled his soul with a strange rapture, had faded from his life, since the day they all went salmon-fishing long (it seemed to him so long) ago. The turmoil of the emptying theatres was over. The last omnibus had passed, the din of the traffic in the Strand had died into silence. There was no sign of life except the occasional glimmer from the red lamps of a passing hansom ; naught remained of the busy world but the policeman who trudged up and down with that measured tread which never ceases day or night in our great metropolis. Wilton heeded not. Lost in thought he sat, gravely sad, though occasionally a little flash of joy lit up his features as he realised what a heavenly paradise might still be in store for him if all the misery of the past few 330 Wilton, Q.C. weeks were only a dream, and Lorna, the only woman he had ever loved, could return his love. Then the past recurred to him. How remorse gnaws ! Conscience is purgatory enough ; we need no other. Could he tell her ? he asked himself. No. And yet if she married him in ignorance of his past, life with her would be a continual lie. To deceive is to lie. How immeasurably inferior he felt to this simple, honest girl ! Yet she must know all — she must ; she should know all, though to tell her would be the hardest, the cruellest task that duty had ever yet imposed upon him. But it was only his just punishment ! To-night he understood why so many marriages were unhappy. Yes, he understood it all now. He felt there was a barrier between men and women. They were brought up with such totally different ideals, such diametrically opposed conceptions of the perfect. How could it be possible for a girl, all innocence, virtue, and right-mindedness, to run in double harness with a man who had drunk the cup of folly and vice, and not receive a shock from which her nobler nature might never recover ? " God forbid women should be brought down to our level/' he thought, " but to-night I realise with overwhelming regret the disadvantages of our position/' Still, if Lorna only cared for him sufficiently to listen The Temple" 331 patiently while he laid bare his very soul for her inspection, she might look mercifully on the mistake which had wrecked his life. Yes ; he would tell her all the bitter story. Better now, hard as it would be for him, and cruel for her, than to let her accept deception as a marriage dower. His head reeled when he thought even of the vague possibility of her caring for him. Brushing back his grey hair with a trembling hand he muttered : " I am unnerved, overworked, overwrought. If, oh God ! if it might be possible that she could love me a little, ever so little, what a life of happiness would be in store for me. We would go away together and be happy, she and I, far away from this scene of feverish unrest, we would seek some quiet spot. It would be an Elysium. " And so he dreamt on, and the firelight glowed and cast fitful shadows upon his careworn features and his grave face. At last he began to write. In wild haste and excitement the pen flew over the paper as he unburdened his soul, only to tear up what he wrote page by page. The cold, unsympathetic moon struggled into the lonely courts, and threw weird shadows, whilst a stray ray found its way through curtains not quite tightly drawn, and shot a ghastly hue over the wan features on which the dying embers of the firelight played. 332 Wilton , Q.C. It was a terrible struggle ; a fight between a man's worse nature and his nobler self, conscience the while racking his very soul. Our wrong doings will find us out. There is no escape. They return again and grip us unexpectedly, but none the less surely. Wilton, the clever barrister Wilton, was in love, and love is like falling into a bottomless pit ; its mysteries and dark corners are unfathomable. The whole man was changed. At last he wrote : Dear Miss Stracey, — The night is advancing towards morning, but since we parted I have done nothing but think, think, think, until my brain reels, and I wonder where I am. I know not whether I am glad or sorry that I met you to-day. My life has been a strangely lonely one, and when we were at The Hirsel together I realised, for the first time, the charms of a friend- ship with a good woman. Those were for me bright and happy days. Your cheerful society, your sweet companionship, seemed to change the whole aspect of the world. I felt all striving for success, nay, success itself, to be nothing in comparison with the clasp of your hand. I drifted like one in a dream, I walked on air. I was in paradise. A thousand times I nearly told you of my love, but it seemed presumption on my part. I was not worthy of you, and I knew it. What man of the world — of a man's world — is worthy of a young girl's affection ! There came a day when I could bear it no longer, when I determined to tell you of my love. Fate ordained that Mrs. Jackson and I should be left alone together while the others went away salmon fishing. She laughed at me for being so dull and low spirited ; she chaffed me about being as sentimental as a schoolboy, to all of which I merely listened. The Temple" 333 Then she talked of you. Somehow I never could bear to hear that woman talk of you. You were too holy in my eyes for her lips to name. I suppose I grew cross ; anyway, I tried to change the theme, but she would not. She said horrible things. She insinuated that the gun affair was not an accident, that you were heartless and designing. That you joked about me and ridiculed my attentions, and worse, far worse, that you openly avowed my love was utterly preposterous, and that you did not care a straw about me. Is it wrong of me to tell you this ? To clear myself behind her back ? I know not. My head aches so and Ah ! I had realised long ere then how deep was my love, how it had woven itself into a chain about my heart. The very pos- sibility of losing your friendship seemed like losing all that was bright in life. As I sat alone in the billiard-room that last evening at The Hirsel, where I had been beguiled by some bright fancies, how sad I felt while I lay back in my chair thinking, thinking, as I watched the clouds of smoke ascending from my pipe, a pile of unopened letters lying beside me. All the light and laughter of the night before had vanished, the table was covered with a yellow cloth, the cues were in the rack, the balls in the pockets. Each article of furniture stood exactly where the housemaid had left it in the morning, and the whole place seemed empty and unsympathetic. My first impulse was to ask you for an explanation, and openly declare my love, but that course hardly seemed honourable when I was not acquainted with either of your parents. However, that did not matter to me very much, since it was you only I wanted ; still it seemed wrong, while I was a total stranger to them. Like a flash of lightening it struck me I could run up to town, ask your father's consent, give him assurance of my ability to keep a wife, and then return at once to The Hirsel and ask you if you could care enough for one so much your senior as to marry me. The result of my interview with your father I told you to-day. How could I act against his direct wishes ? Everything had gone badly w T ith me, and I returned to my old 334 Wilton, Q.C. life at the Temple, to my briefs and my books, without doing the one thing I ought to have done in justice to us both. I see it all now, but at the time 1 thought I was sacrificing only myself and acting for the best. Can you forgive me ? To-day you met me so kindly, you spoke so frankly, I began to believe that you might perhaps care for me a little. Miss Stracey, Lorna, I realised for the thousandth time how you had entered my life like a bright sunbeam into a dark chamber ; but I realised also how your brilliant ray shows up the shiny seams in my life's coat. I never before could have believed that a woman's goodness and purity exposed the faults in a man's life as distinctly as type showed the glaring mistakes in what we are all apt to consider our faultless pages of manuscript. Child, child, even your innocent beauty makes me feel small, worthless, bad. I am not worthy of your love, and yet my life has not been different from the lives of most men. No man is better than God made him, though often a deal worse. Still I have made mistakes I never intended — mistakes the extent of which I never realised till I knew you. I would give up my hardly earned position, all my so-called success, could I stand your equal in purity and truth, and ask you to share my life. Resting his face in his hand he pondered if he should tell her how he had solved the mystery of Mrs. Jackson — should he mention her sister by name, and own how her lovely face had tempted him to — but no ; not yet. Not till Lorna Stracey accepted his love and showed sufficient regard to condone the past. Then, and not till then, would he mention names and tell her all his story. Continuing he wrote : Ah ! dear love, what a sinner I feel before you, and yet — can you forgive the past ? That past of which you as yet know nothing ; but The Temple" 335 the story of which I implore you to hear from my own lips ere I ask you to accept the loyalty of the future. Will you, my Lorna, raise me to your level, to your standard ? Am I presumptuous in hoping you will hear my defence ? Ah, child, you have done me more good than all the teachings of religion or the principles of philosophy. My love is not the love of an infatuated schoolboy. It is the love of a man who has worked hard, and seen much of the world ; but it is none the less sincere for that. Can you accept a life of devotion and the love of a grey-haired man ? Lorna, (dare I call you Lorna ?) will you, can you be my wife ? The paper swims before my eyes as I write these lines. Oh ! is such happiness in store for me ? God grant it may be so, and that I may cherish you and guard you till death. When the laundress came the next morning at six o'clock to clean out the chambers, she was greatly startled to find Mr. Wilton sitting at his desk. " Oh, sir ! " said the comely blue-cotton-gowned body, taking up the corner of her white apron — " oh, sir, I beg your pardon I'm sure ! I didn't know you was here, sir ! " M Come in, my good woman, I've been here all night," and as he spoke Mr. Wilton lifted from the table an unfinished letter on which the ink was long since dry, and, scrawling the name and address on a big blue envelope, thrust it into the drawer of his writing-table and locked it up. " Hope you're not ill again, sir, if I may make so bold," said the woman, horrified to see how haggard he looked. 336 Wilton, Q.C. The laundress very seldom saw Mr. Wilton except at Christmas time, when he always handed her a golden sovereign, and told her the shop from which to fetch a turkey he had ordered for her Christmas dinner. " I'm not worse, thank you, but I've been ailing for some weeks — overwork and strain, I suppose ; I shall soon be all right again. " As he spoke he got up, and, taking down his overcoat, proceeded to put it on. " Can't I make you a cup of tea, sir. It'll only take a minute/' said the woman, really quite distressed at his appearance. " No, thanks. I am going home now to have a bath and breakfast, so you can get on with your work undisturbed. I shall be back at ten, as I have an important case on early. Good morning, Mrs. Jones," he added, making quite a bow to the bewildered old laundress, who watched him out, and then stood at the window to see him cross the court. Then she turned to her sweeping and dusting with more vigour than usual, to an accompaniment of, " Well I never ! Poor gentleman ! He do look bad ! He don't look long for this world. Well, well 1 never ! " She little guessed what would happen before they met again. CHAPTER XVI. THE LAW COURTS. FOR some little time before the events chronicled in the last chapter, mysterious paragraphs had occa- sionally appeared in the columns of two Society journals, Veracity and The Flesh. They hinted that the Courts would shortly have to investigate the facts of a scandal connected with the disappearance of a diamond brooch, a scandal affecting more than one leader of fashion, and brimming over with anticipated disclosures of thrilling interest to the Belgravian world. Truth leaks out now and then even in a fashionable paper, and it did so in this instance. Smart Society diligently scanned the " Law Notices " in the London daily papers. On the eventful morning the husbands and brothers of the great ladies started up from their breakfast-tables to remind all and sundry that the case of Hardings v. Jackson was first on the list, and would be tried at 10.30 on that morning, in No. IV. Queen's Bench Division, before Mr. Justice Sharp and a special jury. The ladies of fashion scrambled through their Z 338 Wilton, Q.C. toilettes, dashed into hansoms, and drove down to the entrance in the Strand of the Superior Courts of Judicature, whence they speedily found their way by the corridor into Court No. IV. They crammed into the seats supposed to be reserved for the outer Bar, and into every other place where it was possible to effect a lodgment. The inevitable Duchess was present, and had to be ejected from the row of seats reserved for the Queen's Counsel, much to the astonishment and indignation of that great lady. A miscellaneous multitude pushed into every available seat and inch of standing room, including counsel in their robes, wigs, and bands (for Mr. Briefless was in great force that day), solicitors' clerks, and boys with red and blue bags, full or empty, as the case might be, of briefs. It was indeed surprising how eagerly the world had picked up the threads of the story at last to be made public. The case was a libel action, brought by a lady well known in the highest circles against another lady of fashion, said to be her most intimate friend, charging the latter lady with writing and publishing a letter in which the former lady w r as, in veiled but unmistakeable terms, accused of stealing a diamond brooch. Many persons of rank were expected to be placed in the w r itness box, and sensational revelations were looked for. The Law Courts. 339 The scene when the half-hour arrived was an animated one, and to those who were not habituated to such scenes, most interesting. The learned judge had not yet arrived, but immediately below the chair of state reserved for him sat the Associate in his robes, whose duty of "calling" the twelve special jurors had just con- cluded. The numbers of the months, the hours of the day, the hours of the night, of the apostles, and of the patriarchs, being twelve, it is evident to the most simple intelligence that disputed matters of fact cannot be adequately tried in the High Court by any other number of men than twelve. Of course mere County Courts and lower judicial organisms may pursue the struggle for existence with five, or some other inferior number. There in the High Court, however, were the twelve selected men, sworn and ready to do their duty, some of them groaning (as they reflected on the importance of the personal engagements they were required to abandon) at being called to settle what they dimly understood to be a mere squabble between two fine ladies. Opposite the jury box was the witness box, and beneath it some seats occupied by shorthand writers, all preparing for a start, since the evening papers are always eager for " copy." Presently small boys would be pushing their way in and out of the Court in the most wonderful manner, for no one has z 2 34-0 Wilton, Q.C. yet discovered how these messengers contrive to squeeze through a crowd with the needful " flimsy/' The robed ushers of the Court were standing one on each side of the Associate's table, ready for any emergency, and smiling as complacently as if the whole show had been got up in their honour. In the front row seats were appropriated to Her Majesty's counsel, many of whom were present. Among them sat the well-known and popular Mr. Burleigh, Q.C, the leading counsel for plaintiff — majestic and serene, his countenance expressive of the most deeply-injured innocence on behalf of his client. Before him was an imposing brief ; behind him a junior counsel, Mr. John Yeo, with a similar expression and document. At the other end of the same row sat Mr. Richard Rae, also with a brief before him of huge dimensions. His countenance, however, was studiously impassive, for it was waiting to be finally modelled on that which his learned leader, Mr. Wilton, Q.C, might think it wise to assume when he entered the Court. Mr. Rae was, in fact, awaiting " further instructions." In the centre of this row sat the eagle-eyed Gimletson, pen in hand, and papers spread before him. Gimletson was on the warpath, ready to transcribe into the most picturesque prose, for publication in the Jupiter Journal, every incident of the day's proceedings. Behind him again, in faultlessly new legal cos- The Law Courts. 341 tumes, sat other learned juniors, wedged in and almost hidden by costumes of Worth, and Elise bonnets. Mr. John Yeo and Mr. Richard Rae had rowed in the same boat at Eton, and against one another in the 'Varsity boat race. They now met in far more difficult rivalry, the former armed with a formidable statement of claim, whilst the latter had prepared an elaborate defence which denied the terrible innuendos, and alleged that the letter was a privileged communication. Suddenly all eyes were directed to the front of the Court, where two dark curtains veil the incoming and outgoing of the " aw r f ul form" in which Justice is wont to manifest itself. One of the curtains was suddenly drawn aside, while an usher in a kind of tenor cried " vSV-lence," and the other in a thunderous bass roared " Si-/ance" Then uprose, as with one accord, jury, bar, spectators, associate, reporters, solicitors, clerks, clients, and the rest of the miscellaneous assembly, while, with stately step and drooping eye, with fixed, immovable features and passionless face, entered the " robed man of justice/' arrayed in black judicial gown and scarlet sash, which fell from the right shoulder to the left side. No writer ever has, or ever will properly describe the dignity of a Common Law judge. One can but give a faint idea of his manner. First a little " bob" — not too much 34 2 Wilton, Q.C. of it — to the jury ; then a still slighter sign of condescension to the bar, who seem so moved by the majestic courtesy of the Bench, that down go all their heads together, as though they were pulled by a string held by some invisible hand. No sooner has the learned dignitary taken his seat, and fixed his eyes on the ceiling, than there is another chorus from the tenor and bass — " Make way there ! Stand back ! Clear the way ! " And lo ! pushing, not exactly through the crowd, but seemingly clambering over it, Mr. Wilton, the Queen's Counsel engaged for the defendant, struggled to the front of his junior, Mr. Rae, and, after bowing with a grace worthy of a courtier, took his seat, still looking as wretchedly ill as when the surprised laundress had found him sitting in his chambers a few hours previously. The solicitor in front half rose, and, uncertain how far he might venture, kept his right hand in readiness should the great leader condescend to intimate that he desired to shake it. After a moment this honour was graciously conferred on the coy solicitor, who turning round hid his blushes amongst his papers. After a little while he whispered : " Our client is the lady in the grey bonnet sitting before you." Mr. Wilton was one of those who held strong opinions with regard to seeing the lay client in The Law Courts. 343 consultation, and invariably refused to do so unless in exceptional circumstances. A very fashionable erection of bonnet turned round to Mr. Wilton, and a plaintive voice said : " We hardly need an introduction — we are old friends j but I was not aware, till my solicitor told me yesterday, that you were retained on my behalf." Wilton raised his hand as if to clear a mist from his eyes. And this Mrs. Jackson was his client, the woman who had striven to ruin his life, who, from sheer malignity, had tried to step between him and the girl he loved. This woman reminded him more than ever to-day of that face he would fain forget. He could hardly realise the situation ; but little by little the bitter irony of it became clear and distinct. What was the cause of action ? Libel ! Yes, libel, in which was an innuendo accusing of felony. This libel was contained in a letter written by the defendant to a lady of title. He remembered on reading his brief how hopeless the defence seemed. And now he found himself bound by professional obligations to this woman, whose cause he was called upon to plead with all his power. Utterly overpowered and dazed, he whispered to his junior that he did not think he should be able to proceed. 344 Wilt 07t, Q.C. "What's the matter with Wilton to-day?" whis- pered Gimletson. u He looks awfully pale — never saw him like that before." At that moment Wilton rose, still somewhat blanched, and informed his lordship in a firm voice that he had the honour to appear with his learned friend Mr. Rae for the defendant. Mr. Burleigh then raised himself to his imposing height, and, with admirable clearness, and in perfect taste, described the relative positions of the plaintiff, Miss Annie Hardings, and the defendant, Mrs. Jackson, their friendship, the visits paid and received, the tokens of affection exchanged, and the great families who — if the imputation conveyed, as he conceived it, by the letter which he should presently read, w T ere justified — would be plunged into shame and dishonour. But he was confident, if his instructions were correct, of a triumphant vindication of the plaintiff's hitherto unscathed reputation in society at the hands of his lordship and the jury. The matter, he said, could not be allowed to rest where the letter, by its strange suggestions, placed it. Larceny must be brought home to the thief, whoever he or she might be. The plaintiff and her friends were determined to clear Miss Hardings' character from the gross accusation which had been made against her, through the malevolent action of the defendant, in the circles in which the parties The Law Courts. 345 moved, and that had now become a matter of public gossip in the papers of the day. Nothing could be more painful to the plaintiff than appearing in Court, under the circumstances ; but she could not do otherwise owing to the publicity which the scandal had obtained. His client had no desire to obtain pecuniary damages, except such as should mark the sense of the jury as to the enormity of the offence committed against her. He would now read the letter of which Miss Hardings complained : — The Hirsel, Augn si 189 . My Dearest Amy, It is ages since I heard from you, and I am dying to know how and where you are. This is a dear old-fashioned house, and we are a charming party. Of this more anon. You can't think how distressed I am to hear the story of Miss Cookson's brooch. You recollect we were staying together at the Hardings at the time she lost it, and as Lady Hardings thought it was the maid, I cannot understand why she has given up that idea ; but, as you remember, the unfortunate maid was dismissed. The singular part of the whole business is that when I happened to meet Annie Hardings herself at the railway station on my way down here, she was wearing a brooch which I could swear was identical with the one Miss Cookson lost. Of course I said nothing. / never liked that Miss Hardings, although her father's house was a pleasant one to stay at. This letter, read amid breathless silence and the most earnest attention of both judge and jury, was 346 Wilton, Q.C. handed to the Associate and by the Associate to the learned judge. Mr. Burleigh stated the signature and the hand- writing were admitted. With regard to the innuendo, he said there could not be a shadow of a doubt that the meaning of the letter was to convey to the mind of the receiver the writer's opinion that the plaintiff, Miss Hardings, had appropriated the brooch, and was in fact a thief. No other construction had been, down to that moment, suggested, nor, he believed, could be suggested. He trusted that the jury would mark their sense of this outrage in the only manner open to them by awarding substantial damages. On his resuming his seat, the plaintiff, Annie Hardings, quietly attired in half-mourning, and with an expression of pathos on her really charming face, replied in low and distressed tones to the questions put to her by Mr. John Yeo, and deposed to the greater part of the facts stated by Mr. Burleigh. Everyone in Court was impressed by her charm- ing manner and sympathetic smile. The girl was terribly nervous, her hands visibly trembled, and with evident discomfiture she looked down all the while, her pretty black lashes forming quite a fringe on her rounded cheeks. She answered all questions put to her clearly, and described, with some minuteness, the brooch which had so mysteriously disappeared. She was cross-examined by Mr. Wilton, not in a The Law Courts. 347 hostile manner, but with a skill which brought out, as it appeared almost unwillingly on his part, some rather striking inaccuracies in her examination-in- chief ; though the main substance of her complaint remained untouched ; her most remarkable admis- sion was that at the station mentioned in Mrs. Jackson's letter, and at the time indicated, she was wearing a brooch which bore a striking resemblance to the one which had been lost. u Have you still this jewel ? " asked Wilton. H Yes." " Have you it with you ? " M No, I did not think it would be required." Wilton asked no more, and resumed his seat. • After a few questions tending to clear up these inaccuracies had been put to the witness, Mr. Burleigh elicited from Miss Hardings a positive denial that the brooch she had worn was the brooch in question, and she stated that Mrs. Jackson was the last person seen in Miss Cookson's room on the evening of the robbery. She left the box amid the sympathetic murmurs of the audience. Other witnesses followed, who were similarly dealt with by the respective counsel, and as each one left the box, small boys scrambled their way to the door with copy for the evening papers, whose placards were almost immediately blazing with 11 New Details," " Startling Evidence," and the like. Soon after the midday adjournment for luncheon 348 Wilton, Q.C. the plaintiffs case closed, and the interest in the pro- ceedings appeared even to increase when Mr. Wilton rose, calm and confident, to open the case for the defendant. In a few well-chosen sentences he intimated that he should show that no such innuendo, as suggested by his learned friend, was to be inferred from the letter. Next, that the communication was one of a privileged character, on which no action would lie ; the real object being to exonerate the writer from the suspicion which her presence at Lady Hardings' might cause to be attached to her. He would at once call his client. Mrs. Jackson calmly walked into the witness-box, not at all put out when the officer asked her to take off her right-hand glove before taking the oath. Very quietly she unbottoned the well-fitting kid glove, and slowly took it off ; showing, with no apparent dissatisfaction, her white jewelled fingers. She certainly looked very handsome ; her splendid figure showing to great advantage in a neat tailor- made gown, relieved by big re vers, and a smart little waistcoat of black watered silk, the black and grey contrasting well with the glorious auburn of her hair. Mrs. Jackson was mistress of the art of dressing, and knew exactly what to wear and when to wear it. She was always like a well-framed picture ; The Law Courts. 349 rather ornate in the mouldings, but still well- framed. Taking the Book in her right hand she kissed it, and quietly returned it to the Usher ; then drawing herself up to her full height, she looked unflinchingly at her Counsel. It was Mr. Wilton who undertook the task of her examination, and to the series of questions he put to her, she replied in such a tone and manner as to cause her examiner to think he detected something beneath the apparent honesty and emphatic readiness of her answers. His ex- perience suggested that she was overdoing it ! If the instructions contained in his brief had caused him misgivings, he was even more unfavourably impressed by his client's manner, and the tone of her answers. Her letter, she said, was a private communication to an intimate and trusted friend. It was never intended to go further. She had no ill-feeling towards Miss Hardings. Her expression " I never liked the girl/' meant nothing more than the natural and unaccountable antipathy to which everyone is liable in the presence of certain people. The mysterious loss of the brooch was a matter about which she naturally felt very keenly. She was staying in the house when the brooch was missed. She was the last person in the room that evening, and she well knew that if any ill feeling was entertained against her by any person, how easy it would be to cloud her character with suspicion. 350 Wilton, Q.C. Her letter, hastily written, and not intended to be dragged into public light and scrutinised, was meant rather to avert that suspicion than from any desire to inculpate another. Mr. Wilton now said that he had not yet seen the original letter, but would like to do so before placing it in the witness's hands. The judge handed it down. As the learned counsel turned over the page the defendant became visibly dis- composed. What was Mr. Wilton's surprise as he read in the inner fold of the letter the following statement : P.S. — A wonderfully successful lawyer is staying here. He is only forty, has obtained silk, and is now standing for Parliament. There is a girl in the house who has fallen madly and ridiculously in love with him. I'm very sorry for her, as of course I know the sort of man he is, and how he usually gets out of these flirtations. Poor little fool ! She little understands the class of man she has to deal with, and that discreditable story about his youth, or that it is current gossip he is engaged to be married to a well-known lady of title in London, and This P.S., although it had not escaped the eye of the solicitor, who had, of course, obtained a copy, had not been set out in the brief, as no one knew to whom it referred, and it formed no part of the libel. For the first time Mr. Wilton fully realised the enormity of Mrs. Jackson's offence against him. Not only had she disparaged Lorna to him, but she had actually written these lies about him to a friend.. The Law Courts. 351 Perhaps — perhaps she had even whispered them to the girl herself. Already conscience-stricken by the memory of his own mistake, the position seemed more than he could bear. He was longing for the case to end ; to get away from the mockery of his surroundings ; to rush into the open air ; to find Lorna herself and tell her everything, and make her understand his remorse. Suddenly he was roused from his reverie by his junior. After a few questions in cross-examination from Mr. Burleigh, Mrs. Jackson left the box. By the manner in which she had given her evidence, the impression she had created was not altogether a favourable one. Everyone felt there was more behind. Wilton, knowing her character, could not but suspect she had stolen the brooch. Then, with an evident effort, his face deadly pale, he commenced his address to the jury. Beginning almost inaudibly, as if the effort to speak were very great, he ended by making a most passionate appeal to the jury to vindicate the bond fides of his client, and her innocence of any evil intention. He urged them to cast aside all the prejudices that might have been imported into this case, especially through the Press, which had given so wide a publicity to a social scandal. If the contents of every letter written in con- fidence — as this letter had been — were to be 352 Wilton, Q.C. published and made the foundation of an action for libel, the pleasure of friendship and intimacy founded on mutual trust would be impossible, and life would be robbed of one of its dearest charms. Next he touched on the loss of the jewel, and commented on the unfortunate circumstance of Mrs. Jackson being the last person in Miss Cookson's room on the evening of the robbery. Then Wilton, after alluding to the significant circumstance that Mrs. Jackson had seen the plaintiff wearing a brooch similar to that which was missing, at the railway station, and pointing out how the truth of the statement was supported by the admissions of Miss Hardings herself, burst into a torrent of passionate eloquence which swept all before it. The hesitancy with which he opened his speech was gone, everything but the case had vanished from his mind, even his own torture. He hurled back with scorn the imputation that his client had played, as had been hinted, the part of the adder, warmed in a friendly bosom, only to sting its benefactor to death. He pointed triumphantly to the demeanour of the defendant under cross- examination. He drew a picture of her, widowed and without protection, hunted down socially by people who had the audacity to proclaim themselves her friends. And as a motive for it all, he suggested that The Law Courts. 353 running through the whole case there was a veiled, or hardly veiled charge of theft against her, that possibly outside the Court, waiting the result of the trial, there were officers armed with a warrant to arrest the defendant on a charge of theft, if an adverse verdict should be returned. He asked them to picture this proud, beautiful woman, a queen of Society, taken into custody on a charge of larceny, branded as a common thief, at the instigation of those who should have been the first to shield her had she needed their protection. What was the meaning of it ? Not a sound was heard in Court as Wilton's voice rose and fell. Everyone was awed by the passion of his eloquent speech. His enthusiasm, his very delivery struck a note of sympathy none could understand, but which everyone felt. The set, pale face had grown yet paler ; but a strange fire was in his eyes, and every countenance was turned towards him as, raising his hand high above his head with a superb gesture of appeal, he exclaimed : " Gentlemen, I leave the honour of this lady with confidence in your hands, sure as I am, that in the discharge of a duty to which you are bound by the solemn oath you have taken, you cannot do otherwise than, by your verdict, vindicate my client from the malignant attack that has been made upon her character. Let me only remind you how much depends upon your judgment ; the honour, possibly A A 354 Wilton, Q.C. the life, certainly the social life of this hitherto unstained woman. Gentlemen, unto you, and you alone she looks. My task is ended." He stood for a moment gazing vaguely before him. Then he muttered something in a strange, weird manner, his eyes closed, he staggered back- wards as if overpowered by the recent extraordinary exertion, swayed to and fro, and, with a heavy breath, sank fainting into his seat. A hurried and agitated murmur ran round the Court. The audience rose. Someone asked for a doctor. A doctor was in court, and, pushing through the hushed and craning throng, a little gray-haired gentleman came forward and watched the face of the unconscious barrister, who was breathing heavily. He felt his heart, and, in a subdued voice addressing the judge, said, " This is not an ordinary faint, my lord. He cannot be moved ; he must have air." The Judge immediately ordered the Court to be adjourned for an hour, and the Associate gave directions to that effect. In a few moments the place was almost empty. A feeling of horror was depicted on the faces of those who had heard the magnificent defence and had seen Wilton fall. So great was the interest evinced that the people hung about the corridors and waited to hear what happened. The Law Courts. 355 Within half-an-hour an usher opened the door and announced that Mr. Wilton was dead. He had never recovered consciousness. An agitated consultation had taken place in the meanwhile between the other counsel engaged in the •case. When the jury returned, the judge, pallid and overcome with emotion, informed them that, to his great relief, and, doubtless, to that of the jury themselves, the parties had agreed that all imputations on either side were absolutely and unreservedly withdrawn, and that they would not be troubled to return a verdict. " Mr. Wilton," he said, " had died as he had lived, in the performance of his duty. He (the judge) had lost an esteemed friend, and the bar one of its brightest ornaments." The lifeless form, divested of the robes which he had worn with so much honour during his short but brilliant career, had been borne out of the Court. The last scene of this painful trial was closed. * & & * # Lorna Stracey was sitting alone. The door opened and Alf Curtis was announced. At the same moment the butler handed her on a silver salver a big blue envelope. Did she accept the present or remain faithful to the past ? r M309506