DANVERS GIVES US A GREAT SURPRISE
A fortnight passed with no news of the Arran folks whatever, when one
morning Sandy appeared at the door of the small dining-room where we
were breakfasting, his sudden appearance recalling that memorable day
when he asked me on the cruise which brought my girl to me. In the
first glance I had of him I saw trouble; twice before he had worn such
a look, once at his mother's death, and again when his wife had left
him, taking the boy to London, and he knew the separation to be final.
His face was very pale, the pallor showing strangely through his tanned
skin, and his mouth was set, and twitching at the corners as beyond his
control.
"Are ye ill, Sandy?" I cried, going toward him hurriedly.
"No," he answered, sitting down at the table and hiding his face in his
hands; "but I've had a blow! I've had a blow!" he repeated. "It's
Danvers," he went on, when he could speak. "He went off to Lanure
yesterday and married Isabel Erskine!"
"Married Isabel Erskine!" I cried, like a parrot.
"Married Isabel Erskine!" repeated Nancy, who stood staring at him as
if she doubted his saneness.
"Married Isa----" I was beginning again, in a highly intelligent
manner, when Huey MacGrath suddenly dropped the tray of dishes he was
bringing in and carried his hands to his face, beginning to moan and
cry like a woman, for it had been the wish of his heart to have these
two children, who in some way he believed to be his own, married to
each other.
The disturbance was a good thing for all, for it broke the unnatural
tension between us, and after MacColl had assisted Huey into the
pantry, where I could see him standing, listening at the doorway, Sandy
continued:
"It was all that talking, grape-eyed woman! It was for that she fetched
her daughter to Arran. It's been going on right under my eye, and I too
blind and taken up with my own affairs to see it The poor laddie," he
cried. "The poor fool laddie!"
Understanding that a discussion of the marriage in her presence was an
impossibility, Nancy left us, with a white face, on some pretense of
business at the Burnside, and Sandy and I talked it out between us.
Midnight found us going back and forth over the matter and arriving at
the same point, that the chances of happiness for a man wedded to one
woman and in love with another are just nothing at all. I could feel
that there was one question in Sandy's mind which he could scarce bring
himself to ask, and I took the suggestion of it upon myself.
"It will bring many changes to us," I said, "and to none more than
Nancy."
"Do you think she cares for him?" Sandy asked, putting his thought
plainly.
"To be frank with ye, Sandy," said I, "it's a matter I've been far from
deciding. I believe that the visit to Mauchline changed her more than
any other event in her life. Before it she'd idealized gift and the
possession of it. When she came back she was changed in a way. 'It's a
great thing to be a gentleman; I think it's more in the end than being
a genius, Jock,' she said, and by this, as well as other speeches of
hers, I am convinced that her mind had turned toward Danvers, and if he
had come to her with any kindness at all, things would have been
settled between them; but he burst in storming, poor fellow, like a
crazy loon, and a fine quarrel they had of it, with this marriage as a
resulting."
"There's one small good comes out of it all, which is that the
paste-covered woman gets out of Arran to-day," Sandy ended. "It's a
thing she had not counted upon, but Danvers wrote that they were off to
the Continent, and it's not respectable for her to stay alone with me,
and she packs for Carlisle to-morrow."
Of the next five months there is little to tell which bears directly
upon my tale, except to make some mention of the "intellectual reform"
of the Duke of Borthwicke, a name he put himself upon his altered
conduct. News we had of him in plenty, and if rumor could be relied
upon, he was a changed man. The first note of his new behavior was
struck by his relieving the poor tenant-bodies on his Killanarchie
estates from their rentals for three years because of the losses from a
cattle blight. And before the sound of this had died away another bit
was added to the tune of his reformation by his coming out strong
against the crown for the repeal of the tax on Scotch whisky. And the
full song of his praises began to be sung in public when he, being one
of the Scotch Sixteen in the English House of Peers, declared for the
inadequacy of representation which Scotland had in the House of
Commons, and moved for an election of fifty-four, after the English
manner[8].
[8] Scotland had but 16 Peers and 48 Representatives in
Parliament at this time.
His letters to Nancy and myself at this time were of a piece with him,
for he spoke with quaint sarcasm of that which he termed his "change of
heart," and of the curious pleasure he obtained from marking his life
out along another line. He wrote with detail as well of a new Paisley
industry which he had started on one of his estates, asking Nancy's
advice concerning a teacher for the lace-work, it being his purpose to
have the young women round Borthwicke Castle turned toward making a
livelihood after this manner. During all of this time his letters came
frequently, and Nancy read them with much pleasure and many comments,
but her private feelings toward the writer of them she confided to
none.
There was a talk which set Nancy's state of mind with some clearness,
however, which fell between us directly after the offer of marriage
made to her by McMurtrie of Ainswere.
"Dearest," she said, "I am beginning to see with my mind that every
woman flies in the face of the Almighty not to take into her life's
reckoning the instinct of her sex for love and motherhood. It seems to
me that a great love must be the best thing of all; but I'm just here,
I don't dare to marry because I'm afraid of myself; and I don't dare to
stay unmarried for fear of that great and unrelenting thing called
Nature."
"Nancy," said I, with an earnestness that came straight from the heart,
"if ye feel like that, your hour has not yet struck. For when the great
love comes, it's not a question of what you want, but what ye can't
help; and I wouldn't think anything more about it, for ye'll know when
it comes, my dear," I cried; "ye'll know when it comes!"
There was an odd scrap of business, trifling in itself, and yet leading
to great trouble, which fell about this time, and I set it down as of
interest to those who note the way fate uses all as instruments.
Nancy, Sandy, and I had planned a jaunt to Ireland. There had been no
intention whatever of taking Huey with us, for he was the last person
on earth to take upon a pleasure outing, as he regarded all strangers
as rogues and villains, and the Irish people as heathen papists,
worshiping idols in the few moments unoccupied in breaking each other's
heads with shillalahs. He had for me and mine a devotion at once
touching and uncomfortable; but as he grew older he interfered in all
manner of matters beyond his province, offered advices absurd and
impertinent, and never once in the whole sixty years of our
acquaintance can I recall his agreeing entirely with a statement made
by any body except Nancy. If he couldn't contradict one flatly, and the
uncongenial part of acquiescence was forced upon him by his love of
truth, he held a grudging silence or affected an absent mind, or no
interest in the matter whatever.
As the years went by and his health became feebler he followed me about
until he was like to drive me to Bedlam, and I used to discharge him
from my service about once a fortnight. I had never realized how highly
absurd our relations were until Nancy drew them to my attention.
"Ye can't go to Alton on Thursday, Jock," she said.
"Why?" I inquired.
"'Tis your day for discharging Huey," she answered with a laugh, making
up a funny face at me.
I would not set any one to thinking that I had a lack of affection for
my old serving-man, for I had seen his old age provided against in a
manner to prove my care; but I knew that he loved me in spite of my
conduct rather than because of it, and with no hope whatever of my
eternal salvation.
The plans for our Irish trip were being discussed one day when Nancy
found him weeping bitterly over the silver he was counting, when he
told her that his grief came from fear lest we should get murdered or
kidnapped in that strange country without him to look after us, and
that the whole matter was taking the very life out of him.
The little one's heart was so touched by his sorrow and his age that
she came back to Sandy and me with tears in her eyes, saying that if
Huey couldn't go she would stay at home herself.
As he was too old and broken to travel with safety to himself, and as
Nancy remained fixed as death, the Irish trip was not taken; by which,
but for the whim of this old serving-man, we might have been from
Scotland and avoided the bitter trouble which began at the Allisons'
rout given in honor of the home-coming of Danvers and his bride.