White Heather: A Novel (Volume 3 of 3)

'She has not asked you for any counsel,' Ronald said curtly. 'And besides we don't know what the authority might be. I dare say, if her father knew all the circumstances, he would be on our side; and I suppose he has as much right to speak as her little spitfire of a mother.'

This was hard on Mrs. Douglas, who had always treated Ronald with courtesy – if of a lofty and distant kind; but impetuous young people, when their own interests are at stake, are seldom just to their elders. However, the Reverend Andrew now began to say that, if he were altogether an outsider, nothing would give him greater pleasure than to see this wish of his brother's accomplished. He had observed much, he said; he had heard more; he knew the saving influence that this girl had exercised on Ronald's life; he could pray for nothing better than that these two should be joined in lawful bonds, towards the strengthening of each other, and the establishment of a mutual hope and trust.

'But it would never do for me to be mixed up in it, Ronald,' he continued. 'When it came to be known, think of what ill-minded folk might say. I must have regard to my congregation as well as to myself; and what if they were to accuse me of taking part in a conspiracy?'

'A conspiracy?' Ronald repeated sharply. 'What kind of a conspiracy? To steal away a rich heiress – is that it? God bless me, the lass has nothing beyond what she stands up in! There's the sealskin coat Glengask gave her; they can have that back, and welcome. What conspiracy would ye make out?'

'No, no, lad; I'm thinking what ill tongues might say.'

'Let them lick their own venom till they rot! What care I?'

'Yes, yes, yes, lad; but ye're not a placed minister; ye've but yourself and her to think of. Now, just wait a bit.'

He had gone back to his chair by the fire, and was seated there, staring into the red coals.

'I suppose you've heard of Dugald Mannering, of Airdrie?' he said, at length.

'Yes, indeed,' was the answer. 'Meenie – that is – Miss Douglas and I went to hear him the Sunday before last, but there was not a seat to be got anywhere – no, nor standing-room either.'

This Mr. Mannering was a young divine of the U.P. Church who had an extraordinary popularity at this time among the young people of the south of Scotland, and especially the young people of Glasgow, and that from a variety of causes. He was a singularly eloquent preacher – flowing, ornate, and poetical; he was entirely unconventional, not to say daring, in his choice of subjects; his quotations were as commonly from Shakespeare and Coleridge and Byron and Browning as from the usual pulpit authorities; he was exceedingly handsome, and rather delicate-looking – pale and large-eyed and long-haired; and he had refused the most flattering offers – 'calls' is the proper word – from various west-end congregations of Glasgow, because he considered it his duty to remain among the mining-folk of Airdrie. When he did accept an invitation to preach in this or that city church, the young people from far and near came flocking to hear him; and a good many of their elders too, though these were not without certain prickings of conscience as to the propriety of devoting the Lord's day to what was remarkably like a revel in pure literature.

'Dugald's coming over here this afternoon,' the elder brother continued, as if he were communing with himself. 'He's an enthusiastic kind of fellow – he'll stick at nothing, if he thinks it's right. I wish, now, I had that portrait – but Maggie's away to school by this time – '

'What portrait?' Ronald asked.

The Reverend Andrew did not answer, but rose, and slowly and thoughtfully left the room. When he came back he had in his hand a photograph of Meenie framed in a little frame of crimson velvet, and that he put on the table: Ronald recognised it swiftly enough.

'He has got an eye for a handsome young lass, has Dugald,' the minister said shrewdly. 'I'll just have that lying about, as it were. Ay, it's a straightforward, frank face, that; and one that has nothing to hide. I'll just have it lying about when Dugald comes over this afternoon, and see if he doesna pick it up and have a good look at it.'

'But what mean ye, Andrew?' his brother said.

'Why, then, lad, I think I'll just tell Dugald the whole story; and if he's not as hot-headed as any of ye to carry the thing through, I'll be surprised. And I suppose if he marries ye, that's just as good as any one else? – for to tell you the truth, Ronald, I would rather not be mixed up in it myself.'

'And the banns?' said Ronald quickly. 'And the length of time in the parish? And the consent of her mother and father?'

The minister waved his hand with a superior air; these were trivial things, not to say popular errors; what had been of real consequence was the extent to which he dared implicate himself.

'I will not say,' he observed slowly, 'that I might not, in other circumstances, have preferred the publication of banns. It would have been more in order, and more seemly; for I do not like the interference of the secular arm in what should be a solely sacred office. Besides that, there is even a premium put on publicity, as is right; five shillings for the one proclamation, but only half-a-crown if you have them proclaimed two following Sundays. Well, well, we mustn't complain; I see sufficient reason; from all I can learn – and you were ever a truth-teller, Ronald, in season and out of season, as well I mind – it seems to me you are fulfilling the laws of God, and breaking none of man's making; so just you go to the Registrar of the parish, and give him the particulars, and deposit a half-crown as the worthy man's fee, and then, eight days hence, you call on him again, and he'll give you a certificate entitling you to be married in any house or church in the Kingdom of Scotland. And if there's no other place handy, ye're welcome to the room you're standing in at this minute; though I would as lief have the marriage take place anywhere else, and that's the truth, Ronald; for although I can defend what little I have done to my own conscience, I'm no sure I should like to stand against the clishmaclavers of a lot of old wives.'

'Where am I to find the Registrar, Andrew?' he asked: he was a little bewildered by the rapidity with which this crisis seemed approaching.

'I suppose you've a good Scotch tongue in your head, and can ask for the loan of a Directory,' was the laconic answer. The Reverend Andrew had taken up the photograph again, and was regarding it. 'An honest, sweet face; as pretty a lass as ever a man was asked to work and strive for and to win. Well, I do not wonder, Ronald, lad – with such a prize before you – But off you go now, for I must get to my work again; and if you come over and have a cup of tea in the afternoon, between four and five, I suppose Dugald Mannering will be here, and maybe ye'll be the best hand to explain the whole situation of affairs.'

And so Ronald left to seek out the Registrar; and as he went away through the busy and sunlit streets, he was asking himself if there was not one of all those people who could guess the secret that he carried with him in his bosom, and that kept his heart warm there.

The Rev. Dugald Mannering, as it turned out, was not nearly so eager and enthusiastic as Ronald's brother had prophesied; for it behoves a youthful divine to maintain a serious and deliberative countenance, when weighty matters are put before him for judgment. But afterwards, when the two young men were together walking away home through the dusky streets of Glasgow, the U.P. minister became much more frank and friendly and communicative.

'I see your brother's position well enough, Mr. Strang,' said he. 'I can understand his diffidence; and it is but right that he should be anxious not to give the envious and ill-natured a chance of talking. He is willing to let the ceremony take place in his house, because you are his brother. If I were you, I would rather have it take place anywhere else – both as being fairer to him, and as being more likely to ensure secrecy, which you seem to think necessary.'

Ronald's face burned red: should he have to ask Meenie to come to his humble lodgings, with the wondering, and perhaps discontented and suspicious, landlady, as sole on-looker?

'Well, now,' the young preacher continued, 'when I come to Glasgow, there are two old maiden aunts of mine who are good enough to put me up. They live in Rose Street, Garnethill; and they're very kind old people. Now I shouldn't wonder at all if they took it into their head to befriend the young lady on this occasion – I mean, if you will allow me to mention the circumstances to them; indeed, I am sure they would; probably they would be delighted; indeed I can imagine their experiencing a fearful joy on finding this piece of romance suddenly tumbling into the middle of their prim and methodical lives. The dear old creatures! – I will answer for them. I will talk to them as soon as I get home now. And do you think you could persuade Miss Douglas to call on them?'

Ronald hesitated.

'If they were to send her a message, perhaps – '

'When are you likely to see her?'

'To-morrow morning, at eleven,' he said promptly.

'Very well. I will get one of the old ladies to write a little note to Miss Douglas; and I will post it to you to-night; and to-morrow morning, if she is so inclined, bring her along and introduce yourself and her – will you? I shall be there, so there won't be any awkwardness; and I would not hurry you, but I've to get back to Airdrie to-morrow afternoon. Is it a bargain?'

'So far as I am concerned – yes; and many thanks to ye,' Ronald said, as he bade his companion good-bye and went away home to his solitary lodgings.

But when, the next morning, in Randolph Terrace – and after he had rapidly told her all that had happened – he suggested that she should there and then go along and call on the Misses Mannering, Meenie started back in a kind of fright, and a flush of embarrassment overspread her face. And why – why – he asked, in wonder.

'Oh, Ronald,' she said, glancing hurriedly at her costume, 'these – these are the first of your friends you have asked me to go to see, and do you think I could go like this?'

'This' meant that she had on a plain and serviceable ulster, a smart little hat with a ptarmigan's wing on it, a pair of not over-new gloves, and so forth. Ronald was amazed. He considered that Meenie was always a wonder of neatness and symmetry, no matter how she was attired. And to think that any one might find fault with her!

'Besides, they're not my friends,' he exclaimed. 'I never saw them in my life.'

'They know who your brother is,' she said. 'Do you think I would give any one occasion to say you were marrying a slattern? Just look.'

She held out her hands; the gloves were certainly worn.

'Take them off, and show them the prettiest-shaped hands in Glasgow town,' said he.

'And my hair – I know it is all rough and untidy – isn't it now?' she said, feeling about the rim of her hat.

'Well, it is a little,' he confessed, 'only it's far prettier that way than any other.'

'Ronald,'she pleaded, 'some other time – on Friday morning – will Friday morning do?'

'Oh, I know what you want,' said he. 'You want to go and get on your sealskin coat and your velvet hat and a new pair of gloves and all the rest; and do you know what the old ladies are like to say when they see you? – they'll say, "Here's a swell young madam to be thinking of marrying a man that may have but a couple o' pounds a week or so at first to keep house on."'

'Oh, will they think that?' she said quickly. 'Well, I'll – I'll go now, Ronald – but please make my hair smooth behind – and is my collar all right?'

And yet it was not such a very dreadful interview, after all; for the two old dames made a mighty fuss over this pretty young creature; and vied with each other in petting her, and cheering her, and counselling her; and when the great event was spoken of in which they also were to play a part they affected to talk in a lower tone of voice, as if it were something mysterious and tragic and demanding the greatest caution and circumspection. As for the young minister, he sate rather apart, and allowed his large soft eyes to dwell upon Meenie, with something of wistfulness in his look. He could do so with impunity, in truth, for the old ladies entirely monopolised her. They patted her on the shoulder, to give her courage; they spoke as if they themselves had gone through the wedding ceremony a hundred times. Was she sure she would rather have no other witnesses? Would she stand up at the head of the room now, and they would show her all she would have to do? And they stroked her hand; and purred about her; and were mysteriously elated over their share in this romantic business; insomuch that they altogether forgot Ronald – who was left to talk politics with the absent-eyed young parson.

Between this interview and the formal wedding a whole week had to elapse; and during that time Agatha Gemmill saw fit to deal in quite a different way with her sister. She was trying reason now, and persuasion, and entreaty; and that at least was more agreeable to Meenie than being driven into a position of angry antagonism. Moreover, Meenie did not seek to vaunt her self-will and independence too openly. Her meetings with Ronald were few; and she made no ostentatious parade of them. She was civil to Mr. Frank Lauder when he came to the house. Indeed, Mr. Gemmill, who arrogated to himself the success of this milder method of treating the girl, was bold enough to declare that everything was going on well; Meenie had as much common sense as most folk; she was not likely to throw herself away; and when once she had seen old Mr. Lauder's spacious mansion, and picture galleries, and what not, and observed the style in which the family lived, he made do doubt but that they would soon have to welcome Frank Lauder as a brother-in-law.

Trembling, flushed at times, and pale at others, and clinging nervously to Ronald's arm, Meenie made her way up this cold stone staircase in Garnethill, and breathless and agitated she stood on the landing, while he rang the bell.

'Oh, Ronald, I hope I am doing right,' she murmured.

'We will let the future be the judge of that, my good girl,' he said, with modest confidence.

The old dames almost smothered her with their attentions and kindness; and they had a bouquet for her – all in white, as became a bride; and they had prepared other little nick-nacks for her adornment, so that they had to carry her off to their own room, for the donning of these. And when they brought her back – rose-red she was, and timid, and trembling – each of them had one of her hands, as if she was to be their gift to give away; and very important and mysterious were they about the shutting of the doors, and the conducting the conversation in whispers. Then the minister came forward, and showed them with a little gesture of his hand where they should stand before him.

The ceremonial of a Scotch wedding is of the simplest; but the address to the young people thus entering life together may be just anything you please. And in truth there was a good deal more of poetry than of theology in these mellifluent sentences of the Rev. Mr. Mannering's, as he spoke of the obligations incurred by two young folk separating themselves from all others and resolved upon going through the world's joys and sorrows always side by side; and the old dames were much affected; and when he went on to quote the verses

'And on her lover's arm she leant,And round her waist she felt it fold,And far across the hills they wentIn that new world which is the old,'

they never thought of asking whether the lines were quite apposite; they were sobbing unaffectedly and profusely; and Meenie's eyes were rather wet too. And then, when it was all over, they caught her to their arms as if she had been their own; and would lead her to the sofa, and overwhelm her with all kinds of little attentions and caresses. Cake and wine, too – of course she must have some cake and wine!

'Should I, Ronald?' she said, looking up, with her eyes all wet and shining and laughing: it was her first appeal to the authority of her husband.

'As you like – as you like, surely.'

But when they came to him he gently refused.

'Not on your wedding day!' the old ladies exclaimed – and then he raised the glass to his lips; and they did not notice that he had not touched it when he put it down again.

And so these two were married now – whatever the future might have in store for them; and in a brief space of time – as soon, indeed, as she could tear herself away from these kind friends, she had dispossessed herself of her little bits of bridal finery; and had bade a long and lingering good-bye to Ronald; and was stealing back to her sister's house.

CHAPTER XII

IN DARKENED WAYS

It was with feelings not to be envied that Jack Huysen stalked up and down the verandah in front of this Fort George hotel, or haunted the long, echoing corridors, eager to question any one who had access to the sick room. All the mischief seemed to be of his doing; all the help and counsel and direction in this time of distress seemed to be afforded by his friend Tilley. It was he – that is, Huysen – whose carelessness had led to the boating catastrophe; it was the young Doctor who had plunged into the lake and saved Carry's life. Not only that, but it was on his shoulders that there now seemed to rest the burden of saving her a second time; for she had gone from bad to worse; the fever had increased rapidly; and while Doctor Tilley was here, there, and everywhere in his quiet but persistent activity, taking elaborate precautions about the temperature of the room, instructing the two trained nurses whom he had telegraphed for from New York, and pacifying the mental vagaries of the patient as best he might, what could Jack Huysen do but wander about like an uneasy spirit, accusing himself of having wrought all this evil, and desperately conscious that he could be of no use whatever in mitigating its results.

She was not always delirious. For the most part she lay moaning slightly, breathing with the greatest difficulty, and complaining of that constant pain in her chest; while her high pulse and temperature told how the fever was rather gaining upon her than abating. But then again, at times, her face would grow flushed; and the beautiful soft black eyes would grow strangely bright; and she would talk in panting whispers, in an eager kind of way, and as if she had some secret to tell. And always the same delusion occupied her mind – that this was Loch Naver; that they had got into trouble somehow, because Ronald was not in the boat; that they had sent for Ronald, but he had gone away; and so forth. And sometimes she uttered bitter reproaches; Ronald had been ill-treated by some one; nay, she herself had been to blame; and who was to make up to him for what he had suffered at her hands?

'Not that he cared,' she said, rather proudly and contemptuously, one hushed evening that the Doctor was trying to soothe her into quietude. 'No, no. Ronald care what a conceited scribbling schoolboy said about him? No! I should think not. Perhaps he never knew – indeed, I think he never knew. He never knew that all our friends in Chicago were asked to look on and see him lectured, and patronised, and examined. Oh! so clever the newspaper-writer was – with his airs of criticism and patronage! But the coward that he was – the coward – to strike in the dark – to sit in his little den and strike in the dark! Why didn't Jack Huysen drag him out? Why didn't he make him sign his name, that we could tell who this was with his braggart airs? The coward! Why, Ronald would have felled him! No! no! He would not have looked the way the poor pretentious fool was going. He would have laughed. Doctor, do you know who he was? Did you ever meet him?'

'But who, Miss Carry?' he said, as he patted her hot hand.

She looked at him wonderingly.

'Why, don't you know? Did you never hear? The miserable creature that was allowed to speak ill of our Ronald. Ah! do you think I have forgotten? Does Jack Huysen think I have forgotten? No, I will not forget – you can tell him, I will not forget – I will not forget – I will not forget – '

She was growing more and more vehement; and to pacify her he had to assure her that he himself would see this matter put straight; and that it was all right, and that ample amends would be made.

Of course, he paid no great attention to these delirious wanderings; but that same evening, when he had gone into the smoking-room to report to Jack Huysen how things were going, this complaint of Miss Carry's happened to recur to his mind.

'Look here, Jack, what's this that she's always talking about – seems to worry her a good deal – some newspaper article – and you're mixed up in it, too – something you appear to have said or done about that fellow her father took such a fancy for – I mean, when they were in Scotland – '

'Oh, I know,' said the editor, and he blushed to the very roots of his long-flowing hair. 'I know. But it's an old story. It's all forgotten now.'

'Well, it is not,' the young Doctor said 'and that's the fact. She worries about it continually. Very strange, now, how her mind just happened to take that bent. I don't remember that we were talking much about the Scotch Highlands. But they must have been in her head when she fell ill; and now it's nothing else. Well, what is it about the newspaper article, anyway?'

'Why, nothing to make a fuss about,' Jack Huysen said, but rather uneasily. 'I thought it was all forgotten. She said as much. Wonder you don't remember the article – suppose you missed it – but it was about this same Highland fellow, and some verses of his – it was young Regan wrote it – confound him, I'd have kicked him into Lake Michigan before I let him write a line in the paper, if I'd have known there was going to be this trouble about it. And I don't think now there was much to find fault with – I only glanced over it before sending it to her, and it seemed to me favourable enough – of course, there was a little of the de haut en bas business – you know how young fellows like to write – but it was favourable – very favourable, I should say – however, she chose to work up a pretty high old row on the strength of it when she came home, and I had my work cut out for me before I could pacify her. Why, you don't say she's at that again? Women are such curious creatures; they hold on to things so; I wonder, now, why it is she takes such an interest in that fellow – after all this time?'

'Just as likely as not the merest coincidence – some trifle that got hold of her brain when she first became delirious,' the young Doctor said. 'I suppose the boating, and the lake, and all that, brought back recollections of the Highlands; and she seems to have been fascinated by the life over there – the wildness of it caught her imagination, I suppose. She must have been in considerable danger once or twice, I should guess; or perhaps she is mixing that up with the mishap of the other day. Well, I know I wish her father were here. We can't do more than what is being done; still, I wish he were here. If he can get through to Glen Falls to-night, you may depend on it he'll come along somehow.'

By this time Jack Huysen was nervously pacing up and down – there was no one but themselves in the room.

'Now, look here, Tom,' he said, presently, 'I wish you would tell me, honour bright: was it a squall that caught the boat, or was it downright carelessness on my part? I may as well know. I can't take more shame to myself anyhow – and to let you jump in after her, too, when I'm a better swimmer than you are – I must have lost my head altogether – '

'And much good you'd have done if you had jumped in,' the Doctor said, 'and left the two women to manage the boat. How should we have got picked up, then?'

'But about that gybing, now – was it my fault?'

'No, it was mine,' the Doctor said curtly. 'I shouldn't have given up the tiller. Fact is, the girls were just mad about that "Dancing in the Barn"; and I was fool enough to yield to them. I tell you, Jack, it isn't half as easy as it looks steering a boat that's running fair before the wind; I don't blame you at all; I dare say there was a nasty puff that caught you when you weren't looking; anyhow, it's a blessing no one was hit by the boom – that was what I feared at first for Miss Hodson when I found her insensible – I was afraid she had been hit about the head – '