A Witch of the Hills, v. 1

On the north wall was the fireplace—wide, high, old-fashioned and warm—with a discoloured white marble mantelpiece, decorated with fat bewigged Georgian cupids. Above it hung an old cavalry sword with which my father had cut his way through the Russians at Inkermann. Close to the fireplace, and with its back to the book-shelves, stood my own especial chair—big, roomy, well worn—covered with dark red morocco, like the rest of the furniture. A reading-table stood in the corner beside it, and on the right hand was a bigger table, piled high with books and papers, cigars, bills and rubbish. There was a writing-table in one corner, at which I never wrote; a sofa covered with more literary lumber; two cabinets crammed with curiosities collected on my travels, tossed in with little attempt at arrangement; a card-table on which stood a quantity of old-fashioned silver, such as tall candlesticks, goblets, a punch-bowl and a massive last-century urn. A stuffed duck, a Dutch tankard, a pair of elk's horns, and a bust of Dante surmounted by a fox's brush, occupied the top of the book-shelves. A high plain fourfold screen, as dark as the rest of the time-worn furniture, hid the door; and close to the screen a dog-kennel, with the front taken out and replaced by a strong iron grating, formed the winter home of a large brown monkey, which I had bought at a sale with the fascinating reputation of being dangerous, but which had belied its character by allowing me to bring it home on my shoulders. To-to, so called for no better reason than that my collie, whose favourite resting-place was now well defined on the goatskin hearthrug, was named Ta-ta, had from our first introduction treated me with such marked tolerance that I, in my loneliness, had begun to feel a sort of superstitious fondness for the brute, and fancied I saw more reason and affection in his blinking brown eyes than in any of the Scotch pebbles which served as organs of vision to my Gaelic neighbours. When I first bought him it was mild enough for him to live in the yard; but when the weather grew cold, and he was brought into the kitchen, he got on so ill with the powers there that I had to take compassion upon him and them, and remove To-to to the study, where he justified his promotion by the reserve and gravity of his manners, his only marked foible being a furious jealousy of Ta-ta, whose resting-place was just beyond the utmost tether of the monkey's chain. Rarely did an evening pass without some skirmish between the two. Perhaps Ta-ta, seeing me smile over the book I was reading, and anxious to share my enjoyment, even if she could not understand the joke, would incautiously get up and wag her tail. Whereupon To-to would dash across the hearthrug and assist her, and much unpleasantness would follow, the dog barking, the monkey chattering, the master swearing—all three members of the menagerie trying to come off conqueror in the mêlée. Or else To-to would fall from the top of his kennel to the floor, with a loud noise, and would lie stiff and still on the rug, as if in a fit; and then the simple Ta-ta would walk over to investigate the case, and the monkey would seize her ears and twist them round with jabbering triumph. I kept a small whip to separate the combatants on these occasions, but I only dared use it very sparingly; as, though its effect upon To-to's coarser nature was salutary in the extreme in reducing him to instant love and obedience, as the boot of the costermonger does his wife, the gentler Ta-ta would look up at me with such piteous protest in her dark eyes that I felt a brute for the next half hour.

From this room, the scene of most of my domestic life, I took a pair of silver candlesticks and a Dresden cup and saucer. Into the unused drawing-room, which I had had fitted up years ago in the Louis Quinze style, I just peeped; but there was nothing very tempting in white and gold curly-legged furniture tied up in brown holland on a cold polished floor, so I locked the door again, and carried away my prizes to the cottage, where they certainly improved the look of the sitting-room mantelpiece.

I had no sort of carriage more convenient than a Norfolk-cart, so on my way to Aberdeen I ordered a fly to be at Ballater Station on my return with my new tenants. Both the ladies were already dressed for their journey, and we started at once, Mrs. Ellmer hastening to inform me that she had sent most of her luggage to some friends in London, to account, I fancy, poor lady, for having only one shabby trunk and two stage baskets. Babiole sat very quietly during the railway journey, looking out of window at the now dreary and bleak landscape; and I spoke so little that any one might have thought I would rather have been alone. But, indeed, I was only afraid, from the happy excitement which glowed in the faces of both talkative mother and silent daughter, lest their bright expectations should be disappointed by the simplicity and desolation of the place they persisted in regarding as a palace of delights.

'It's a very homely place, you know,' I said solemnly, after being bantered in a sprightly manner by Mrs. Ellmer upon my artfulness in building myself a fortress up in the hills where, like the knights of old, I could indulge in what lawless pranks I pleased. 'And I assure you that nothing could possibly be more simple than my mode of life there. Whatever of the bold bad bandit there may have been in my composition ten years back has been melted down into mere harmless eccentricity long ago.'

'Ah! you are not going to make me believe that,' said Mrs. Ellmer, with a giddy shake of the head. 'Why, the very name Larkhall betrays you.'

I believe the dear lady really did think the name had been given in commemoration of 'high jinks' I had held there; but I hastened to assure her that 'lark' was simply the Highland pronunciation of 'larch,' a tree which grew abundantly in the neighbourhood. However, she only smiled archly, and seeing that the imaginary iniquities she seemed bent on imputing to me in no way lessened her exuberant happiness in my society, I left my character in her hands, with only a glance at Babiole, who seemed, with her eyes fixed on the moving landscape, to be deaf to what went on inside the carriage. I was rather glad of it.

When we got to Ballater the little shed of a station was crowded by rough villagers, all eagerly enjoying the splendid excitement of the arrival of the train. A dense, wet Scotch mist enveloped us as we stepped on to the platform, chilled by our cold journey; still, they both smiled with persistent happiness, which grew rapturous when we all got into a roomy fly which Mrs. Ellmer called 'your carriage.' They were charmed with the village, which looked, through the veil of fine rain, a most depressing collection of stiff stone and slate dwellings to my blasé eyes. They were delighted with the cold and dreary drive. They pronounced the dark fir-forest through which we drove 'magnificent'; and, finally, after a hushed and reverential silence as we went through the plantation, both were transfixed with admiration at the sight of my modest dwelling. Mrs. Ellmer even went so far as to admire the 'fine rugged face' of Ferguson, who was standing at the hall door scowling his worst scowl. I did not risk an encounter with him, but led the ladies straight into the cottage, where a peat fire was glowing in each of the lower rooms. We went first into the sitting-room; a lighted lamp was in the middle of the table, the tea-things were at one end. I glanced from mother to daughter, trying to read their first impression of their new home. Mrs. Ellmer's eyes, sharpened by sordid experience to hungry keenness, took in every detail at once with critical satisfaction, while her lips poured forth commonplaces of vague delight. The climax of her pleasure was the discovery of the cup and saucer on the mantelpiece. By the way in which her thin face lighted up I saw she was a connoisseur. In looking at it she forgot me and for a moment paused in her enraptured monologue.

Babiole took it all differently. She seemed to hold her breath as she looked slowly round, as if determined to gaze on everything long enough to be sure that it was real; then, with a little sob, she turned her head quickly, and her innocent eyes, soft and bright with unspeakable gratitude, fell on me.

You must have been for years an object of horror and loathing to your fellow-men to know what that look, going straight from soul to soul with no thought of the defects of the bodily envelope, was to me. Perhaps it was because my life had so long been barren of all pleasures dependent on my fellow-creatures that I could neither then, nor later that evening when I was alone, recall any sensation akin to its effect in sweetness or vividness except the glow I had felt after Babiole's girlish confidence to me at the door of the Aberdeen lodging. I suppose I must have stood smiling at the child with grotesque happiness, for Mrs. Ellmer, turning from contemplation of the cup and saucer, drew her thin lips together very sourly.

'And now I will leave you to your tea,' said I hastily. 'I told Janet to put everything ready for you.'

'Thank you, Mr. Maude, you are too good. We require no waiting on, I assure you,' broke in Mrs. Ellmer, with rather tart civility.

'Oh no, I only told her to put the kettle on in the kitchen,' I protested humbly. And, with ceremonious hopes that they would be comfortable, I retreated, Babiole giving my fingers a warm-hearted squeeze when it came to her turn to shake hands. The child was following me to let me out when her mother interposed and came with me to the door herself.

She took my hand and held it while she assured me that she was so much overpowered by my distinguished kindness and courtesy that I must excuse her if, in the effort to express her feelings adequately, she found herself without words. I'm sure I wished she would, for she went on in the same strain, making convulsive little clutches at my fingers to emphasise her speech, until both she and I began to shiver. She did not let me go until Babiole appeared behind her, flushed and smiling, in the little passage. Then Mrs. Ellmer's fingers sprang up from mine like an opened latch and, dismissed, I raised my hat and hurried off.

I had not gone half a dozen yards when I met Janet on her way to the cottage; she curtseyed and told me, in answer to my question, that she was taking some tea to the ladies. After a moment's hesitation I turned and followed her, proposing to ask them whether they would like some books.

Janet opened the door quietly without knocking, and went into the kitchen on the left, while I stood on the rough fibre mat outside the sitting-room, having grown suddenly shy about intruding again. I heard Babiole's clear childish voice.

'Oh, mamma, if only papa doesn't find us out, how happy we shall be here! Mr. Maude is a good man, I am sure of it!'

'As good as the rest of them, I daresay,' answered her mother in tones of pure vinegar. 'Understand, if you ever meet him when I'm not with you, you are not to speak to him. It makes me ill to look at his hideous wicked face. There's someone in the kitchen, run and see who it is.'

And the poor Beast, thinking he had heard enough, and afraid lest Beauty should catch him eavesdropping, slunk away from the door-mat and made his way home with his tail between his legs.

CHAPTER VII

Those unlucky few words that I had overheard created a great breach between me and my tenants, and, moreover, brought on in the would-be philosopher a fit of misanthropical melancholy. I could not get over the poor little woman's cynical hypocrisy for some days, during which I never went near the cottage; and if I met either mother or daughter in my walks or rides, I contented myself with raising my hat ceremoniously, and giving them as brief a glimpse of my 'wicked hideous face' as possible. Ha! ha! I would show them whether or not I was dependent on their society, and how much of selfish libertinism there had been in my wish to house them comfortably for the winter; a pair of idiots!

But this noble pride wore itself out in a fortnight, at the end of which time I began to think it was I who was the idiot, to nourish resentment against a pair of helpless creatures who, too poor to refuse an offer which saved them from brutality and starvation, had seen enough of the dark side of human nature to put small faith in disinterested motives, and had no weapon but their own wits wherewith to fight their natural enemy—man. Besides, my solitude had grown ten times more solitary now that, sitting alone in my study at night, with To-to languidly stretching himself on the kennel in front of me, paying no attention to me whatever, and Ta-ta, who really had capacities for sympathy, lying asleep on the rug at my feet, I knew that, not a hundred yards away, there were slender women's forms flitting about, and girlish prattle going on, by a little modest fireside that was a home.

So I suddenly remembered that I ought to call and ask them if they found their new home to their liking. Anxious, for the first time for five years, to make the best of a bad business, so far as my person was concerned, I exchanged the coarse tweed Norfolk suit I usually wore for a black coat and gray trousers I used to wear in town, which, though doubtless a little old-fashioned in cut, might reasonably be supposed to pass muster in the wilds, and even to give me a rather dashing appearance. But, alas! It did not. It showed me, on the contrary, how far I had slipped away from civilisation. My hair was too long, what complexion I had left too weather-beaten, while the seamed and scarred right side of my face looked more hideous than ever. I changed back quickly to my usual coat, scarcely acknowledging to myself that some sort of vague wish to live once more the life of other men was disappointed.

I found Mrs. Ellmer and her daughter in their outdoor dress; they had been driven in by a snow shower, one of the first of the season. The sitting-room looked now cosy and habitable, if a little untidy, the habits of the touring actress being still manifest in a collection of unframed cabinet photographs—not all uncalculated to bring a blush to the Presbyterian cheek—which stood in a row on the mantelpiece. It occurred to me that old Janet might have let out the fact that I turned back with her to the cottage and, perhaps, overheard something to my disadvantage, for Babiole looked frightened and shy, and Mrs. Ellmer's manner was almost apologetically humble. There was constraint enough upon us all for me to make my visit very short, but as I left I formally invited them to dine with me on the following evening.

With what shamefaced nonchalance I told Ferguson that day to have the drawing-room opened and cleaned on the following morning! With what stolid lowering resignation he extracted my reason for this unparalleled order! However, he made no protest. But next morning, while I was at breakfast, he entered the room in his usual clockwork manner, but with a glow of pleasurable feeling in his cold eyes.

'If you please, sir, Janet would be obliged if you would step into the drawing-room and see if you would still wish to have it prepared for the party this evening.'

Party! I could have broken his neck. But I only followed him in an easy manner into the hall. It was full of blinding smoke, which was pouring forth from the open door of the drawing-room. I dashed heroically into the apartment, only to be met with a denser cloud, which rushed into my mouth and made my eyes smart and burn. Some winged thing, either a bird or a bat, flapped against the walls and ceiling in the gloom. Janet was choking at the fireplace, in great danger of being smothered.

'What is all this?' I choked angrily, getting back into the hall.

'Nothing, sir,' answered Ferguson, with grim delight. 'Nothing but that Janet lit the fire to air the room in obedience to your orders, and that the chimney smokes a little. Would you still wish to have the room got ready, sir?'

But he had gone too far; he had roused the lion.

'Come in here,' I said, in a tone which subdued his happiness; and he followed me back into the room. 'Now t-t-take the tongs,' I continued, as haughtily as coughing would permit, 'and r-ram it up the chimney.'

Cowed, but exceedingly reluctant, he obeyed, and I would not let him relax his efforts until, smothered with soot and dust, dry twigs and blackened snow, he pulled down upon himself a sack, a couple of birds'-nests, and other obstacles which, some from above and some from below, had been deposited in the unused chimney.

'Now,' said I, purple in the face but content, 'you can relight the fire.'

And, satisfied with this moral victory and the prestige it gave me in the eyes of the whole household—for Tim and the outdoor genius who gardened twelve acres and looked after four horses had both enjoyed this domestic scandal from the doorway—I marched back to my cold coffee and congealed bacon.

There were no more difficulties, though, at least none worth mentioning. It is true that on returning from my morning's ride I found the hall so stuffed up with furniture that I had to enter my residence through one of the study windows, five feet from the ground; and that I had to picnic on a sandwich in the study instead of lunching decorously in the dining-room; but these discomforts might be necessary to a thorough cleaning, and could be borne with fortitude. At six o'clock my guests arrived, and, having left their cloaks in a spare-room opened for the occasion, they were led to shiver in the drawing-room, which still smelt of smoke and soap and water. Mrs. Ellmer, with chattering teeth, admired the painted ceiling, the white satin chairs bright with embossed roses, the pale screen, and all the fanciful glories of the room, the magnificence of which evidently impressed and delighted her. Babiole seemed unable to take her eyes off two oil-paintings, both portraits of the same lady, which, in massive gilt oval frames, occupied a prominent position at the end of the room opposite the fireplace.

'Babiole is fascinated, you see, Mr. Maude,' said her mother, with the little affected laugh which gave less the idea of pleasure than that of a wish to please. 'If she dared she would ask who those ladies are.'

'They are both the same, mother,' said Babiole, so softly, so shyly, that one could think she guessed there was some story about the portraits.

Mrs. Ellmer's eyes began to beam with a less artless curiosity.

'Would it be indiscreet to ask her name?'

'Her name was Helen.'

'Ah, poor lady! She is dead, then?'

'No, I believe she is alive.'

Babiole glanced quickly from the pictures to my face and pressed her mother's hand, as that lady was about to burst forth into more questions. I don't know that my countenance expressed much, for my feelings on the subject of the original of the portrait had long ceased to be keen; but I think the little one, being very young, liked to make as much as possible out of any suggestion of a romance. I took the girl by the arm and led her to the end of the room, where the portraits hung.

'Now,' said I, 'which of these two pictures do you like best?'

Babiole instantly assumed the enormous seriousness of a child who is honoured with a genuine appeal to its taste. After a few moments' grave comparison of the pictures, she turned to me, with the face of a fairy judge, and asked solemnly—

'Do you mean which should I love best, or which do I admire most as a work of art?'

This altogether unexpected question, which came so quaintly from the childish lips, made me laugh. Babiole turned from me to the pictures, rather disconcerted, and Mrs. Ellmer broke in with her sharp high voice—

'Babiole understands pictures; she has had a thorough art education from her father, Mr. Maude.'

'Oh yes,' said I, wondering vaguely why mothers always show up so badly beside their daughters. Then I turned again to the girl. 'I didn't know how clever you were, Miss Babiole. Supposing I had two friends, one who had known this lady and loved her, and the other who was a great art collector. Which portrait would each like best?'

Babiole decided without hesitation. 'The art collector would like this one, and the one who had loved her would like that,' she said, indicating each with the glance of her eyes.

'But the art collector's is the prettier face of the two,' I objected.

'Yes; but it isn't so good.'

I was astonished and fascinated by the quickness of the girl's perception.

'You ought to grow into an artist,' I said, smiling. 'The pretty one was in the Academy this year, painted by a famous artist. I heard it was a wonderful portrait, and I commissioned a man to buy it for me. The other is an enlargement, by an unknown artist, from half a dozen old photographs and sketches, of the same lady five years ago.'

'And is it exactly like her—like what she was, I mean?'

'No; she was prettier, but not so—good.'

I used the word 'good' because she had used it, though it was not the word I should have chosen. I wanted her to say something more, for she was still looking at the pictures in a very thoughtful way; but at that moment Mrs. Ellmer, skipping lightly along the polished floor in a way that made me tremble for her balance, thrust her head between us, and laid her pointed chin on her daughter's shoulder.

'And what are you two so deeply interested about?' she asked playfully.

Babiole put her tender little cheek lovingly against her mother's thin face, and I began talking about art in a vague and ignorant manner, which incautiously showed that I disliked the interruption. Ferguson came to my rescue with the solemn announcement of dinner.

From Mrs. Ellmer's rather critical attitude towards the different dishes, I gathered that she prided herself on her own cookery, and Babiole ingenuously let out that mamma had once superintended a very grand dinner of some friends of theirs—'Oh, such rich people!'—and it had been a great success. Mamma seemed a little uneasy at this indiscretion, but hastened to add that they were such dear friends of hers that when they were left in a difficulty by the sudden illness of their man-cook—a man who had been in the first families, and had come to them from Lord Stonehaven's—she had overwhelmed them by the offer of her services.

'I think all ladies should learn cooking, Mr. Maude; and, indeed, many do now. The lessons are very expensive, certainly; but one never regrets either the time or the money when it is once learned,' said she. 'Servants never understand how things ought to be done unless there is some one able to give them a little guidance.'

To all this conversation Ferguson listened with the amiability of an enraged bear restrained by iron bars from making a meal of his tormentors.

Babiole had little attention to spare for any one but Ta-ta, with whom she had struck up a rapidly ripening friendship.

'Ta-ta has taken a fancy to you,' I said, smiling. 'She always likes the people I like,' I added, with the common fatuity of owners of pet animals.

Upon this Mrs. Ellmer piped out 'Ta-ta, Ta-ta, Ta-ta!' until, to stop her, I beckoned the dog to her side of the table. But the collie, seeing that she had nothing better than a raisin to offer, merely sniffed at it, avoided the threatened caress, and slunk back to her old place by Babiole, in whose lap she rested her head contentedly.

While her mother was still laughing shrilly at this misadventure, the child asked if they might see my monkey.

'Shall I take you to my study now,' said I, 'and show you how an old bachelor passes his evenings?'

'Is the monkey fond of you too, Mr. Maude?' asked Babiole, as I opened the door for them.

'I flatter myself that he is. At least I can boast that he flies at any one whom he suspects of doing me harm. Two months ago a doctor was attending me for a swelling on my neck. He came day after day, and To-to treated him with all the courtesy due to an honoured guest, until he decided one day that the swelling ought to be lanced, and took from his pocket a case of instruments. He had scarcely opened it when To-to, chattering and grimacing, sprang across the hearthrug with such violence that he broke his chain, and fastened his teeth in the doctor's hand.'

'What a savage brute!' exclaimed Mrs. Ellmer.

Babiole thought it out as we crossed the hall, and then spoke gravely—

'But the monkey was wrong, for the doctor never meant to hurt you,' she said, in her deliberate way.