Donald Ross of Heimra (Volume 2 of 3)

"I call you to witness," said their chief to Miss Stanley – and he spoke in the calmest manner, as if this were quite an every-day occurrence – "that I have been deforced in the execution of my duty. This man will have to answer for it at Dingwall."

But his assistants were not so imperturbable. Smarting under the jeers of the crowd, they proceeded to cast about for some implement with which to effect an entrance; and presently they found an axe. With this one of them set to work; and crash! crash! went the weight of iron on to the trembling door. The wood began to yield. Splinters showed – then a narrow breach was made – the hole grew wider – and just as it became evident that the demolition of the door was but a matter of a few minutes, a heavier stroke than usual snapped the shaft of the axe in twain, the iron head falling inside the cottage. By this time the attitude of the crowd had again altered – from derision to fierce resentment; there were groans renewed again and again; missiles flew freely. And then again, and quite suddenly, an apparently trivial incident entirely changed the aspect of affairs. At that ragged opening that had been made in the door there appeared two small black circles, close together; and these were pushed outward a few inches. The concurrents fell back – and the crowd was silent; well they perceived what this was; those two small circles were the muzzle of a gun; at any moment, a violent death – a shattered corpse – might be the next feature of the scene.

"What does that madman mean to do!" Mary exclaimed, in a paralysis of terror – for it appeared to her that she was responsible for all that was happening or might happen.

"Mary," said Käthchen, under her breath – and she was all trembling with excitement, "you must come away at once – now – while they are watching the gun. Perhaps they won't interfere with us – we may get down to the waggonette – we may have to run for it, too, if those women should turn on us."

"I cannot go and leave these poor men here," Mary said, in her desperation. "They will be murdered. That man in there is a madman – a downright madman – "

Käthchen lowered her voice still further.

"There is Mr. Ross coming – and oh! I wish he would be quick!"

Indeed it was no other than Donald Ross, who, immediately after leaving Lochgarra House, had struck off across the hills, hoping by a short cut to reach Cruagan not long after Miss Stanley's arrival. And now that he appeared, all eyes were turned towards him; there was no further groaning, or hooting, or hurling of missiles. He seemed to take in the situation at a glance. He asked a question of the sheriff's officer.

"I'll just have to come back, sir," said the man, "with an inspector and a dozen police; but in the meantime I declare that I have been deforced, and this man Macdonald must answer for it. I hope ye'll give evidence, sir, if the leddies would rather not come over to Dingwall. You were not here when my assistants were thrown out of the house; but at least you can see a gun pointed at us – there it is – through that door."

Young Ross did not go directly forward to the muzzle of the gun – which would have been the act of a lunatic, for the man inside the cottage might make a mistake; but he went towards the front of the house, then approached the door, and struck up the gun with his fist. One barrel went off – harmlessly enough.

"Hamish!"

He called again; and added something in Gaelic. The door was opened. There was some further speech in the same tongue; the shaggy-browed crofter laid aside the gun, and came out into the open air, looking about him like a wild-beast at bay, but following the young master submissively enough. Donald Ross went up to Miss Stanley.

"I was afraid there might be a little trouble," said he. "Well, I can answer for this man – if you will get the sheriff's officer and his assistants to go away."

"I want them to go away!" she said. "I have no wish at all to put James Macdonald out of his croft – not in the least – and I will give him time to pay up arrears, especially as there is to be a re-valuation. I wish you would tell him that. I wish you would tell him that I had nothing to do with these proceedings. Tell him I want to deal fairly with everybody. You can talk to him – I cannot – I cannot explain to him – "

But Macdonald had been listening all the same.

"That woman," said he, sullenly, "she – no business here. The land – Ross of Heimra's – "

Young Ross turned to him with a muttered exclamation in Gaelic, and with a flash of flame in the coal-black eyes that did not escape Käthchen's notice. The stubborn crofter was silent after that – standing aside in sombre indifference.

"The officer can bring his action for deforcement, if he likes," Ross said, "and I suppose Macdonald will be fined forty shillings. But no one has been hurt; and it seems a pity there should be any further proceedings, if, as you say, you are going to have a re-valuation of the crofts" – and then he suddenly checked himself. "I hope you will forgive me for interfering," he said, quite humbly; "I did not intend to say anything; it is Mr. Purdie's business – and I do not wish even to offer you advice."

"I wish I could tell you how much I am obliged to you," she said, warmly. "If you had not let me know about those men coming, and if you had not appeared yourself, I believe there would have been murder done here this day. And now, Mr. Ross, would you get them to go on at once to Lochgarra, so as to be out of harm's way – and to-morrow they can go back by the mail-car? I will write to Mr. Purdie. There must be no further proceedings; and James Macdonald will not be put out of his croft – not if I have any say in the matter."

So the three officials were started off for the village; the morose crofter proceeded to pick up his bits of furniture and get them into the house again; and the crowd of women began to disperse – not silently, however, but with much shrill and eager decision – towards their own homes. Young Ross of Heimra went down with the two young ladies to the waggonette, which was waiting for them below in the road.

He saw them into the carriage.

"But won't you drive back with us?" said Mary.

"Oh, thank you – if I may," he said, rather diffidently; and therewith he went forward to get up beside the coachman, just as Mr. Purdie would have done.

The colour rushed to Mary's forehead.

"Mr. Ross," she said, "not there!" – and she herself opened the door of the waggonette for him, so that perforce he had to take his place beside them. And was this again (she may have asked herself) the pride that apes humility; or was it only part of his apparent desire to keep a marked distance between himself and her? She was vexed with him for causing her this embarrassment. He had no right to do such things. He might be a little more friendly. She, on her part, had been frank enough in expressing her obligations to him; nay, she had gone out of her way to ask, in a kind of fashion, for his approval. Were all the advances to come from her side?

But Kate Glendinning noticed this – that as they drew near to the dried-up waste that had once been Loch Heimra, and as they were passing the tumbled-down ruins of the ancient stronghold, he pretended that he did not see anything. He rather turned away his face. He talked of indifferent matters. Mary had forgotten that they would have to pass by Loch and Castle Heimra, or perhaps she might have thought twice about inviting him to drive with them. But quite simply and resolutely he turned away from those things that all too eloquently spoke of the irreparable wrong that had been done to him and his, and affected not to see them or remember them; and Käthchen – a not uninterested observer – said proudly to herself: "If that is not Highland courtesy, I do not know what is."

Wonders will never cease, truly. That evening the astounding rumour had found its way through the length and breadth of the township: there were eye-witnesses who could testify: Young Donald of Heimra had been seen in the same carriage with the two ladies from Lochgarra House.

CHAPTER III

A CROFTERS' COMMISSION

One morning Mary Stanley and her companion had been away on some distant errand, and when on their return they came to the summit of the hill overlooking the bay, Mary paused for a moment to take in the prospect – the wide, grey, wind-swept plain of the sea, the long headlands, and the lonely Heimra Island out in the west. But Käthchen did not cease her discourse – in which she was endeavouring to account for the comparative failure, so far, of her friend's fine philanthropic schemes.

"The truth is, Mamie," said she, "what has disappointed you here has been the prevalence of hard facts – very hard facts – facts as hard as the rocks on which the poor people try to live. You wanted to play the part of Lady Bountiful; and you yourself are just full of enthusiasm, and generous emotion, and ideals of duty and self-sacrifice, and – and – romanticism generally, if I may say so. And for all these qualities you find no exercise, no outlet. I can imagine you in very different circumstances – in London, perhaps, or in some English village: I can imagine your going into a squalid room where there is a poor widow by the bedside of her dying boy; and the Lady Bountiful brings little comforts for the sick child, and words of kindness and consolation for the mother; and the poor woman looks on you as an angel, and would kiss the hem of your gown; and it's all very pretty and touching. But, you see," continued the practical Käthchen, "how you are baffled and thwarted in this obdurate place; for there isn't a single case of illness in the whole district – not one – which is no doubt owing to the valuable antiseptic properties of peat-smoke!"

"Oh, well," said Mary, cheerfully, as they went on again. "I can put up with being disappointed on that score – and the longer the better. But, Käthchen, when you said there was nothing but hard facts about here – no pretty sentiment and sympathy – you weren't keeping your eyes open. Look down there at the bridge; what is that if not pretty sentiment? – two lovers talking – why, it is quite a charming picture! – and isn't there some rustic custom of pledging troth over a running stream?"

Her face suddenly grew grave; and Käthchen, also regarding those two figures, was struck by the same surmise.

"It is Mr. Ross, Mamie!" she exclaimed, in an undertone – though they were still a long way off.

Mary said nothing. She walked on calmly and indifferently, sometimes looking up to the hills, sometimes looking out to Heimra Island and the sea. It was Käthchen, keeping her eyes covertly on those two figures by the bridge, who observed that the girl suddenly separated herself from her companion, and disappeared into the woods by the side of the Garra. As for Donald Ross, he made no sign of going away: on the contrary, he remained idling by the rude stone parapet, occasionally looking into the water underneath. And he must have known that he was intercepting the two ladies from Lochgarra House – there was no escape for them.

Mary maintained a perfect self-possession; and when they came up to him she was for passing with a little bow of recognition; but he spoke.

"I have a small petition to put before you," said he, with a smile (Käthchen thought that, though he looked extremely handsome, this pleasant and familiar smile was in the circumstances something of an impertinence).

"Indeed," said Mary – and she waited.

"From a very humble petitioner," he continued (and Käthchen began to consider him a most unabashed young man – so easily and lightly he spoke), "one who has no English, and she has asked me to interfere and tell you all about her case. She was talking to me just now; but when she caught sight of you she fled off into the woods, like a hare."

"Why?" said Mary, coldly.

"Because she is afraid of you," said he. "She thinks you are a friend of the Troich Bheag Dhearg– the Little Red Dwarf – as they call Mr. Purdie about here. And that is quite enough to frighten Anna – "

"Anna?" said Mary. "Do you mean Anna Chlannach – the half-witted girl?" – and as she guessed the simple and harmless truth an indescribable confusion appeared on her forehead and in the self-consciousness of her eyes.

"Yes," said he, apparently not noticing. "Anna says that you spoke to her once; but she has no English, and could not tell you anything; and she saw Purdie with you, and ran away. So much I made out, though she talks rather wildly, and mysteriously as well."

"Oh, but Mr. Ross," said Mary, with some eagerness, "I wish you would tell Anna Chlannach that she has no reason to be afraid of me – surely not! Why, she was the first creature in the place who seemed a little friendly. Will you tell her I will do everything for her I can; and that she must come and see me; and there will be no fear of her meeting Mr. Purdie; and Barbara can be the interpreter between us? Will you tell her that? Could you find her now?"

"There's no one in this neighbourhood who could find Anna Chlannach if she wants to be hidden," he said, with a bit of a laugh that showed beautiful teeth – as Käthchen remarked. "But I shall come across her some other time, and of course, if you grant her petition, she must go to you and thank you."

"What is her petition?" said Mary, who had recovered from her momentary confusion, and was now prepared to be entirely bland and magnanimous – which, indeed, was her natural mood.

"Well," said he, "Purdie – Mr. Purdie – has been threatening to have her shut up in some asylum for imbeciles – so they say – and Anna is in a great state about the possibility of her being taken away from among the people she knows. I don't think it is true, myself; indeed I doubt whether he could do anything of the kind, without the consent of her relatives, and she has got none now; but I am not quite sure what the law is; anyhow, what I imagine to be the case is simply that Mr. Purdie has been making use of these threats to spite the people with whom Anna Chlannach is a favourite. For she is a general favourite – there is no harm in the girl – "

"Why, so Barbara said!" Mary exclaimed.

"It is quite true that she is rather useless about the place," Donald Ross went on. "Sometimes they have tried her with a bit of herding; but then, if she saw a boat out at sea, she would imagine her mother was coming back, and she would go away down to the shore to meet her, and spend her time in gathering white shells, that she thinks is money, to give to her mother. Well, you see, that is awkward. You couldn't leave sheep or cows under Anna's care without asking somebody to keep an eye on Anna herself. The truth is, she is useless. But there's no harm in the lass; and the people are fond of her; there's always a bit of food, or a corner for her to sleep in; so that she's not a cost to anyone except to those that are willing to pay it – a mere trifle – and in any case it does not come out of Mr. Purdie's pocket – "

"She shall not be shut up in any asylum, if I have any say in the matter!" Mary interposed, with a touch of indignation.

"I asked her to stay and appeal to yourself," he continued. "But she was frightened of you – "

"Yes," said Mary, "everyone is frightened of me – or set against me – in this place!"

"There is another thing I should mention," he proceeded – ignoring this taunt, if it was meant as a taunt; "the young girls and lads about here are not very considerate if there's any fun going on; and they've heard of this proposal of Purdie's; and so they amuse themselves by telling Anna Chlannach that she is going to be taken away and shut up in an asylum, and the poor girl is dreadfully frightened. But if you can assure her that you will not allow Purdie to do any such thing – "

"Well, of course I will, if you will only bring her to me!" said Mary, impetuously. "Why haven't you brought her to me before?"

He hesitated. Then he said —

"I am very much obliged to you. I will tell Anna Chlannach the first time I see her. Good morning, Miss Stanley!"

But Mary would not have that; she said boldly —

"Are you not going down to the village? – won't you walk with us?"

He could hardly refuse the invitation; and as they went on towards the little township, what she was saying in her heart was this – 'Here, you people, all of you, if you are at your cottage doors or working on your crofts, don't you see this now, that Mr. Ross of Heimra is walking with me, with all the world to witness? Do you understand what that means? It is true my uncle drained Loch Heimra and tore down Castle Heimra into a heap of ruins; and the Rosses of Heimra, and you also, may have had reason to hate the name of Stanley; But look at this – look at Young Donald walking with me – in a kind of a way proclaiming himself my friend – and consider what that means. A feud? There is no feud if he and I say there shall be none. I cannot restore Castle Heimra, but it is within his power to forgive and to forget.'

That is what she was somewhat proudly saying to herself as they walked into the village – past the smithy – past the weaver's cottage – past the school-house – past the post-office – past the inn and its dependencies; and she hoped that everyone would see, and reflect. But of course she could not speak in that fashion to Donald Ross.

"You might have told me about Anna Chlannach before," she said.

"I did not like to interfere," he made answer.

"You seem very sensitive on that point!" she retorted.

"Well, it is natural," he said, with something of reserve; and instinctively she felt that she could go no further in that direction.

"Are you remaining long on the mainland at present?" she asked, in an ordinary kind of way.

"Until this afternoon only: I shall go back to Heimra after the mail-cart has come in."

"It must be very lonely out there," she said – glancing towards the remote island among the grey and driven seas.

"It is lonely – now," he said.

And then she hesitated. For he had never spoken to her of his circumstances in any way whatever; he had always been so distant and respectful; and she hardly knew whether she might venture to betray any interest. But at length she said —

"I can very well understand that there must be a charm in living all by one's self in a lonely island like that – for a time, at least – and yet – yet – it does seem like throwing away one's opportunities. I think I should want some definite occupation – among my fellow creatures."

"Oh, yes, no doubt," said he, in no wise taking her timorous suggestion as a reproach. "In my own case, I could not leave the island so long as my mother was alive; I never even thought of such a thing; so that being shut up in Eilean Heimra was not in the least irksome to me. Not in the least. She and I were sufficient companions for each other – anywhere. But now it is different. Now I am free to look about. And I am reading up for the Bar as a preliminary step."

"Oh, indeed?" said she. "Do you mean to practise as a lawyer?"

"No, I think not," he made reply; and now Käthchen was indeed listening with interest – more interest than she usually displayed over rents and drains and sheriff's decrees. "But being a barrister is a necessary qualification for a good many appointments; and if I were once called to the Bar I might perhaps get some sort of post in one of the colonies."

"In one of the colonies?" Mary repeated; "and leave Eilean Heimra for ever?"

"Well, I don't know about that," said he, absently. "At all events, I should not like to part with the island – I mean, I should not like to sell it. It is the last little bit of a foothold; and the name has been in our family for a long while; and – and there are other associations. No; rather than sell the bit of an island, I think I should be content to remain a prisoner there for the rest of my life. However, all that is in the air at present," he continued more lightly. "The main thing is that I am not quite so lonely out at Eilean Heimra as you might imagine – I have my books for companions any way."

"Then you are very busy?" she said, thoughtfully. "I must not say I am sorry; and yet I was going to ask you – "

"I should be very busy indeed," said he, "if I could not find time to do anything for you that you wished me to do." (And here Käthchen said proudly to herself: 'Well, Mamie, and what do you think of that as a speech for a Highlander?')

"Ah, but this is something rather serious," said she. "The fact is, I want to form a little private commission – a commission among ourselves – for the resettlement of the whole estate. I want every crofter's case fully investigated; every grievance, if he has any, inquired into; all the rents overhauled and reduced to what is quite easy and practicable and just; and a percentage of the arrears – perhaps all the arrears – cut off, if it is found desirable. I want to be able to say: 'There, now, I have done what is fair on my side: are you going to do what is fair on yours?' And I have got Mr. Watson to consent to give up the pasturage of Meall-na-Cruagan; and that must be valued and taken off his rent; and then when the pasturage is divided among the Cruagan crofters – oh, well, perhaps I shan't ask them for anything!"

"You seem to wish to act very generously by them," said he, with a grave simplicity.

"Oh, I tell you I have plenty of schemes!" she said, half laughing at her own enthusiasm. "But I get no sympathy – no encouragement. There is Miss Glendinning, who simply sits and mocks – "

"Mamie, how can you say such things!" Käthchen protested – for what would this handsome young gentleman from Heimra think of her?

"I have two new hand-looms coming next week," Mary continued; "and I am going to send to the Inverness Exhibition, and to Dudley House, if there is another bazaar held there; and I am going to give local prizes, too; and I may get over some of the Harris people to show them the best dyes, and so forth. But all that will take time; and in the meanwhile I am chiefly anxious to put myself right with the tenants by means of this commission and a complete revision of the rents. A commission they can trust – formed of people they know – "

"They will be ill to please if they don't meet you half way – and gladly," said young Ross.

Mary Stanley's eyes shone with pleasure at these hopeful words: she had not met with much encouragement hitherto.

"Does Mr. Watson know Gaelic?" was her next question.

"In a kind of a way, I should imagine," he said. "He is a south countryman; but I should think he knew as much Gaelic as was necessary for his business."

"And to talk to the people about general things – about their crops – and their rents?" she asked again.

"In a kind of a way he might."

"But you – you know Gaelic very well?" she said.

"I think I may fairly say that I do," he confessed frankly enough.

"Then," said she, "if you could find the time, would not that be sufficient to form a commission – Mr. Watson, and you, and I? There would be no kind of conflicting interests; and we should all want to do what was equitable and right by the people."

"Oh," said he, in a wondering sort of way, "there would be only these three – Mr. Watson, yourself, and I?"

"Mr. Purdie," said she, "would simply be a kind of clerk – "

And instantly his face changed.

"Mr. Purdie," said he, "is he coming to take part in it?"

"Only as a kind of clerk," she said quickly. "He would merely register our decisions. And of course he knows the people and all the circumstances; he could give us what information we wanted, and we could form our own judgment."

But there was no return to his face of that sympathetic interest that she had read there for a brief moment or two. His manner had entirely altered; and as they were now close to Lochgarra House, he had to take his leave.

"As far as I am concerned, Miss Stanley," said he, "I would rather leave this resettlement in Mr. Purdie's hands. Intermeddlers only make mischief, and get little thanks for their pains."

She was disappointed and hurt; and yet too proud to appeal further. He bade them good-bye – a little coldly, as Käthchen thought – and left; and Mary Stanley and her friend went into the house. All that Mary said was —

"Well, we must do the best we can, Mr. Watson, Mr. Purdie, and myself. I don't suppose Mr. Watson has any reason to be stiff-necked, and malevolent, and revengeful."