CHAPTER IX.

A DAUGHTER OF DEBATE.

They met under the arch of the gate, and Carmichael returned with the

Carnegies, Kate making much of him and insisting that he should stay to

luncheon.

"You are our first visitor, Mr. Carmichael, and the General says that

we need not expect more than six, so we mean to be very kind to them.

Do you live far from here?"

"Quite near--just two miles west. I happened to be passing; in fact, I

'm going down to the next parish, and I . . . I thought that I would

like to call and . . . and bid you welcome;" for Carmichael had not yet

learned the art of conversation, which stands mainly in touching

details lightly and avoiding the letter I.

"It is very cruel of you to be so honest and dispel our flattering

illusions"--Kate marvelled at his mendacity--"we supposed you had come

'anes errand'--I'm picking up Scotch--to call on your new neighbours.

Does the high road pass the Lodge?"

"Oh no; the road is eight miles further; but the Drumtochty people take

the near way through the woods; it's also much prettier. I hope you

will not forbid us, General? two people a week is all the traffic."

"Forbid them--not I," said Carnegie, laughing. "A man is not born and

bred in this parish without learning some sense. It would be a right

of way case, and Drumtochty would follow me from court to court, and

would never rest till they had gained or we were all ruined.

"Has it ever struck you, Mr. Carmichael, that one of the differences

between a Highlander and a Scot is that each has got a pet enjoyment?

With the one it's a feud, and with the other it's a lawsuit. A Scot

dearly loves a 'ganging plea.'

"No, no; Tochty woods will be open so long as Kate and I have anything

to say in the matter. The Glen and our people have not had the same

politics, but we 've lived at peace, as neighbours ought to do, with

never a lawsuit even to give a fillip to life."

"So you see, Mr. Carmichael," said Kate, "you may come and go at all

times through our territory; but it would be bare courtesy to call at

the Lodge for afternoon tea."

"Or tiffin," suggested the General; "and we can always offer curry, as

you see. My daughter has a capital recipe she wiled out of an old

Hindoo rascal that cooked for our mess. You really need not take it on

that account," as Carmichael was doing his best in much misery; "it is

only meant to keep old Indians in fair humour--not to be a test of good

manners. By the way, Janet has been sounding your praises, how have

you won her heart?"

"Oh, very easily--by having some drops of Highland blood in my veins;

and so I am forgiven all my faults, and am credited with all sorts of

excellences."

"Then the Highlanders are as clannish as ever," cried the General.

"Scotland has changed so much in the last half century that the

Highlanders might have become quite unsentimental and matter-of-fact.

"Lowland civilisation only crossed the Highland line after '45, and it

will take more than a hundred and thirty years to recast a Celt.

Scottish education and theology are only a veneer on him, and below he

has all his old instincts.

"So far as I can make out, a Celt will rather fish than plough, and be

a gamekeeper than a workman; but if he be free to follow his own way, a

genuine Highlander would rather be a soldier than anything else under

the sun."

"What better could a man be?" and Kate's eyes sparkled; "they must envy

the old times when their fathers raided the Lowlands and came home with

the booty. It's a pity everybody is so respectable now, don't you

think?"

"Certainly the police are very meddlesome," and Carmichael now devoted

himself to Kate, without pretence of including the General; "but the

spirit is not dead. A Celt is the child of generations of

cattle-stealers, and the raiding spirit is still in the blood. May I

offer an anecdote?"

"Six, if you have got so many, and they are all about Highlanders," and

Kate leant forward and nursed her knee, for they had gone into the

library.

"Last week I was passing the cattle market in Edinburgh, and a big

Highland drover stopped me, begging for a little money.

"'It iss from Lochaber I hef come with some beasties, and to-morrow I

will be walking back all the way, and it iss this night I hef no bed.

I wass considering that the gardens would be a good place for a night,

but they are telling me that the police will be disturbing me.'

"He looked so simple and honest that I gave him half-a-crown and said

that I was half a Highlander. I have three Gaelic sentences, and I

reeled them off with my best accent.

"'Got forgive me,' he said, 'for thinking you to be a Sassenach body,

and taking your money from you. You are a fery well-made man, and here

iss your silver piece, and may you always hef one in your pocket.'"

[Illustration: "Here is your silver piece."]

"'But what about your bed?'

"'Tuts, tuts, that will be all right, for I hef maybe got some six or

five notes of my own that were profit on the beasties; but it iss a

pity not to be taking anything that iss handy when a body happens to be

in the south.'"

"Capital." Kate laughed merrily, and her too rare laugh I used to

think the gayest I ever heard. "It was the only opportunity left him

of following his fathers. What a fine business it must have been,

starting from Braemar one afternoon, a dozen men well armed, and

getting down to Strathmore in the morning; then lying hid in some wood

all day, and collecting a herd of fat cattle in the evening, and

driving them up Glen Shee, not knowing when there might be a fight."

"Hard lines on the Scottish farmers, Kit, who might be very decent

fellows, to lose their cattle or get a cut from a broadsword."

"Oh, they had plenty left; and seriously, dad, without joking, you

know, what better could a Presbyterian Lowlander do than raise good

beef for Highland gentlemen? Mr. Carmichael, I beg pardon; you seem so

good a Celt, that I forgot you were not of our faith."

"We are not Catholics," the General explained, gravely, "although many

of our blood have been, and my daughter was educated in a convent. We

belong to the Episcopal Church of Scotland, and will go into Muirtown

at a time, but mostly we shall attend the kirk of my old friend Dr.

Davidson. Every man is entitled to his faith, and Miss Carnegie rather

. . ."

"Forgot herself." Kate came to her father's relief. "She often does;

but one thing Miss Carnegie remembers, and that is that General

Carnegie likes his cheroot after tiffin. Do you smoke, Mr. Carmichael?

Oh, I am allowed to stay, if you don't object, and have forgiven my

rudeness."

"You make too much of a word, Miss Carnegie." Carmichael was not a man

to take offence till his pride was roused. "Very likely my drover was

a true blue Presbyterian, and his minister as genuine a cateran as

himself.

"Years ago I made the acquaintance of an old Highland minister called

MacTavish, and he sometimes stays with me on his way north in the

spring. For thirty years he has started at the first sign of snow, and

spent winter spoiling the good people of the south. Some years he has

gone home with three hundred pounds."

"But how does he get the money?" inquired the General, "and what does

he use it for?"

"He told me the history of his campaigns when he passed in March, and

it might interest you; it's our modern raid, and although it's not so

picturesque as a foray of the Macphersons, yet it has points, and shows

the old spirit lives.

"'She wass a goot woman, Janet Cameron, oh yes, Mr. John, a fery

exercised woman, and when she wass dying she will be saying peautiful

things, and one day she will be speaking of a little field she had

beside the church.

"'"What do you think I should be doing with that piece of ground," she

will be saying, "for the end iss not far off, and it iss not earth I

can be taking with me, oh no, nor cows."

"'"No, Janet," I said, "but it iss a nice field, and lies to the sun.

It might be doing good after you are gone, if it wass not wasted on

your mother's cousins twice removed in Inverness, who will be drinking

every drop of it, and maybe going to the Moderate Kirk."

"'It wass not for two months or maybe six weeks she died, and I will be

visiting her every second day. Her experiences were fery good, and I

hef told them at sacraments in the north. The people in the south are

free with their money, but it iss not the best of my stories that I can

give them; they are too rich for their stomachs.

"'Janet will often be saying to me, "Mister Dugald, it iss a thankful

woman that I ought to be, for though I lost my man in the big storm and

two sons in the war, I hef had mercies, oh yes. There wass the

Almighty and my cow, and between them I hef not wanted, oh no: they

just did."

"'"Janet, you will be forgetting your field that iss lying next the

manse, and the people will be thinking that it iss a glebe; but I am

telling them that it iss Janet Cameron's, who iss a fery experienced

woman, and hass nefer seen the inside of a Moderate Kirk since the

Disruption."

"'Maybe you will be astonished, Mister John, but when Janet's will will

be read that piece of ground wass left to the Free Kirk, which wass

fery kind and mindful of Janet, and I made a sermon about her from the

text of the "elect lady."

"'It wass a good field, but it needed a dyke and some drains, and it

wass not our people that had the money. So I made another sermon on

the text, "The boar out of the wood doth waste it, and the wild beast

of the field doth devour it," and went down to the south. It wass not

a dyke and some drains, but enough to build a byre and a stable I came

back with. That wass in '55, and before '60 there will be a new manse

with twelve rooms that iss good for letting to the English people. But

it wass ten years the church needed, and a year for the porch to keep

it warm, for I am not liking stoves, and will not hef one in

Crianshalloch.

"'It iss wonderful how much money the bodies hef in Glasgow, and it iss

good for them to be hearing sound doctrine at a time. There will be no

Arminianism when I am preaching, and no joking; but maybe there will be

some parables, oh yes, about the sheep coming in at the manse door for

want of a fence, and the snow lying in the pulpit.'

"There is a cateran for you, and, mind you, a good fellow too. It's

not greed sends him out, but sheer love of spoil. Would you like to

see MacTavish next time he passes up with the cattle?" for Carmichael

was emboldened by the reception of his sketch.

"Nothing we should like better, for the General and I want to know all

about Scotland; but don't you think that those ministers have injured

the Highlanders? Janet, you know, has such gloomy ideas about

religion."

"There is no doubt, Miss Carnegie, that a load of Saxon theology has

been landed on the Celt, and it has disfigured his religion. Sometimes

I have felt that the Catholic of the west is a truer type of northern

faith than the Presbyterian of Ross-shire."

"I am so glad to hear you say that," said Miss Carnegie, "for we had

one or two west Catholics in the old regiment, and their superstitions

were lovely. You remember, dad, the MacIvers."

"That was all well enough, Kit, but none of them could get the length

of corporal; they were fearfully ignorant, and were reported at

intervals for not keeping their accoutrements clean."

"That only showed how religious they were, did n't it, Mr. Carmichael?

Hadn't the early Christians a rooted objection to the bath? I remember

our Padre saying that in a lecture."

"There are a good many modern Christians of the same mind, Miss

Carnegie, and I don't think our poor Highlanders are worse than

Lowlanders; but Catholic or Protestant, they are all subject to the

gloom. I cannot give the Gaelic word.

"What is that? Oh, a southerner would call it depression, and assign

it to the liver, for he traces all trouble to that source. But there

is no word for this mood in English, because it is not an English

experience. My mother fell under it at times, and I saw the effect."

"Tell us, please, if all this description does not weary you?" and Kate

shone on Carmichael, who would have talked on the Council of Nice or

the rotation of crops to prolong his privileges.

"It comes on quite suddenly, and is quite a spiritual matter--a cloud

which descends and envelops the soul. While it lasts a Highlander will

not laugh nor sing; he will hardly speak, and he loses all hope about

everything. One of our men has the gloom at a time, and then he

believes that he is . . . damned. I am speaking theologically."

"The regiment must have been fond of theology, dad. Yes, we

understand."

"Once he went out to the hill, and lay all night wrestling and

agonising to be sure whether there was a God. You know he 's just a

small farmer, and it seems to me splendid that such a man should give

himself to the big problems of the universe. Do you know," and

Carmichael turned to the General, who was smoking in great peace, "I

believe that is the reason the Highlanders are such good fighting men.

They fear God, and they don't fear any other person."

"I 'll vouch for one thing," said the veteran with emphasis; "our men

put off the gloom, or whatever you call it, when they smelt powder; I

never saw a panic in a Highland regiment in more than forty years'

soldiering."

"What's the reason of the gloom? I believe that I have a touch of it

myself at times--don't stare at me, dad, it's rude--just a thin mist,

you know, but distinctly not indigestion. Is it a matter of race?"

"Of course, but that's no explanation." Carmichael had fallen into his

debating society style. "I mean one has to go further back; all our

habits are shaped by environment."

"One moment, please. I have always wanted to ask some clever person

what environment meant. I asked Colonel MacLeod once, dad, and he said

it was out of the new book on tactics, and he was thankful he had

retired. Now Mr. Carmichael will make it plain," and Kate was very

demure.

"It is rather stupid to use the word so much as people do now," and

Carmichael glanced dubiously at Kate; "scientific men use it for

circumstances."

"Is that all? then do pray say environment. Such a word introduces one

into good society, and gives one the feeling of being well dressed; now

about a Highlander's environment, is it his kilt you are thinking of,

or his house, or what?"

"His country"--and Carmichael's tone had a slight note of resentment,

as of one ruffled by this frivolity--"with its sea lochs, and glens,

and mists. Any one who has been bred and reared at the foot of one of

our mountains will have a different nature and religion from one living

in Kent or Italy. He has a sense of reverence, and surely that is a

good thing."

"Nothing more needed nowadays," the General broke in with much spirit;

"it seems to me that people nowadays respect nobody, neither the Queen

nor Almighty God. As for that man Brimstone, he will never cease till

he has ruined the Empire. You need n't look at me, Kate, for Mr. . . .

Carmichael must know this as well as any other sensible man.

"Why, sir," and now the General was on his feet, "I was told on good

authority at the club last week by a newspaper man--a monstrously

clever man--that Mr. Brimstone, when he is going down to the House of

Commons to disestablish the Church, or the army, or something, will

call in at a shop and order two hundred silk hats to be sent to his

house. What do you call that, sir?"

"I should call it a deliberate--"

[Illustration: "I should call it a deliberate--"]

"_Jeu d'esprit_. Of course it is, dad," and Kate threw an appealing

glance to Carmichael, who had sprung to his feet and was standing

stiffly behind his chair, for he was a fierce Radical.

"Perhaps it was, lassie--those war correspondents used to be sad

rascals--and, at any rate, politics are bad taste. Another cheroot,

Mr. Carmichael? Oh, nonsense; you must tell my daughter more about

your Highlanders. They are a loyal set, at any rate, and we all admire

that."

"Yes, they are," and Carmichael unbent again, "and will stick by their

side whether it be right or wrong. They 're something like a woman in

their disposition."

"Indeed," said Kate, who did not think Carmichael had responded very

courteously to her lead, "that is very interesting. They are, you

mean, full of prejudices and notions."

"If a Highlander takes you into his friendship, you may say or do what

you like, he will stand by you, and although his views are as different

from yours as black from white, will swear he agrees with every one.

If he 's not your friend, he can see no good in anything you do,

although you be on his own side."

"In fact, he has very little judgment and no sense of justice; and I

think you said," Kate went on sweetly, "his nature reminded you of a

woman's?"

"You're sure that you like cheroots?" for the General did not wish this

lad, Radical though he was, sacrificed on his first visit; "some men

are afraid of the opium in them."

"Please do not interrupt Mr. Carmichael when he is making a capital

comparison," and Kate held him to the point.

"What I intend is really a compliment," went on Carmichael, "and shows

the superior fineness and sensitiveness of a woman's mind."

Kate indicated that she was sure that was his meaning, but waited for

details.

"You see," with the spirit of one still fresh to the pulpit, "a man is

slower, and goes by evidence; a woman is quicker, and goes by her

instincts."

"Like the lower animals," suggested Kate, sweetly, "by scent, perhaps.

Well?"

"You are twisting my words, Miss Carnegie." Carmichael did not like

being bantered by this self-possessed young woman. "Let me put it this

way. Would a jury of women be as impartial as a jury of men? Why, a

bad-looking man would have no chance, for they would condemn him at

once, not for what he did, but for what they imagined he was."

"Which would save a lot of time and rid society of some precious

scoundrels," with vivid recollections of her own efforts in this

direction. "Then you grant that women have some intelligence, although

no sense of justice, which is a want?"

"Far brighter than men," said Carmichael, eagerly; "just consider the

difference between a man's and a woman's speech. A man arranges and

argues from beginning to end, and is the slave of connection. He will

labour every idea to exhaustion before he allows it to escape, and then

will give a solemn cough by way of punctuating with a full stop, before

he goes on to his next point. Of course the audience look at their

watches and make for the door."

"What would a woman do?" Kate inquired with much interest.

"A lady was speaking lately at Muirtown for an orphanage at

Ballyskiddle, and described how Patsy was rescued from starvation, and

greatly affected us. 'Patsy will never want bread again,' she

concluded, and two bailies wept aloud.

"Then she went on, and it seemed to me a stroke of genius, 'Speaking

about Patsy, has any lady present a black dress suitable for a widow

woman?' Before we knew that we had left Patsy, the people were in a

widow's home, and the bailies were again overcome. I mention them

because it is supposed that a bailie is the most important human being

in Scotland, and he feels it his duty not to yield to emotion.

"No, a woman speaker never sacrifices her capital; she carries it with

her from England to France in her speech, and recognises no channel

passage. In fact," and Carmichael plunged into new imagery, "a man's

progress is after the manner of a mole, while a woman flits from branch

to branch like a--"

"Squirrel--I know," came in Kate, getting tired.

"Bird, I meant. Why do you say squirrel?" and Carmichael looked

suspiciously at Kate.

"Because it's such a careless, senseless, irresponsible little beast.

Have you met many women, Mr. Carmichael? Really they are not all

fools, as you have been trying to suggest for the last ten minutes."

"Highlanders are a safer subject of conversation than women," said the

General, good-naturedly, as he bade Carmichael good-bye. "And you must

tell us more about them next time you call, which I hope will be soon."

Carmichael halted twice on his way through the woods; once he stamped

his foot and looked like a man whose pride had been ruffled; the other

time he smiled to himself as one who was thinking of a future pleasure.

It was dusk as he crossed Lynedoch Bridge, and he looked down upon the

pool below where the trout were leaping. Half an hour passed, and then

he started off at high speed for Kilbogie Manse. "Please God if I am

worthy," he was saying to himself; "but I fear she is too high above me

every way."

Kate Carnegie and Those Ministers · 第 9 / 24 章