very severe one, and Sandy Shiels, who had exposed himself too much to
the weather, was laid up with an attack of rheumatism. As he was a very
active man, still not much past middle life, who when in health
diligently looked after his business himself; his loss during this
confinement was much felt; and the others had enough to do to make up
for his absence.
On the 27th of February, the snow was on the ground, and the wind blew
wildly over the Lammermuir hills; the sheep sought shelter and munched
their turnips sadly in the nooks and hollows. Donald was abroad, with
the dogs looking after them, and seeing that no stray lamb perished in
the cold; while Ihan and Rob were off to Gifford. Ihan to do business
there for his father; for there was a three days fair, or market, which
Sandy, when in health, never failed to attend, both as a buyer and
seller; and Rob to fetch some medicine for the patient, and other
matters wanted at the farm.
Rob set out at dawn of day, for it was a long walk of ten miles through
the snow, and the sooner he could return the better, as the things he
was to bring were wanted. Ihan rode a rough little Shetland pony; he did
not start till midday, and was not expected back till the evening after
the next. On the first day he had to go on as far as Haddington, which
is four miles beyond Gifford, where he was to consult a lawyer about a
disputed point in his father's lease. He was to sleep there at the house
of a friend, and to be back to the Gifford market early the next
morning.
Annie Goil stood at the door covertly watching Ihan as he mounted his
pony, well equipt for his cold ride, his neck enveloped in a red
comforter, knitted for him by Annie herself. She leant against the
door-post looking about her with an air of indifference; while Ihan
seemed wholly occupied in tightening his girths and seeing that his
stirrups were of the right length. Neither spoke; still he lingered over
his gear, and still she stood leaning against the post, when suddenly
Mrs. Shiels called from above, "Is Ihan gone? Stop him!" and hurrying
down stairs appeared at the door.
"Ihan," she said, "I forgot to tell Rob to bring sixpennyworth of
camphorated spirits for your father; if he has not left Gifford before
you get there, tell him to get it."
"He will have left, I should think," answered Ihan.
"Perhaps not," said Mrs. Shiels, "but if he has you must bring it,
though I want it to night."
"Very well," said Ihan as he rode away, and Mrs. Shiels and Annie
re-entered the house.
The hours passed drearily at the farm, with the sick man groaning in his
pain, and the two lonely women dividing their time betwixt his chamber
and their household cares. As the day advanced Annie went frequently to
the door and looked up the glen; and Mrs. Shiels, glancing at the Dutch
timepiece that stood in the kitchen, observed that she wondered Rob had
not come back. Annie responding that the snow was deep, and it must be
very heavy walking, again went to the door and looked up the glen; but
there was nobody in sight. The hours dragged on, and as it grew later,
large flakes began to fall and obscure what little light remained. Sandy
grew impatient and accused Rob of idling and lingering at the fair; Mrs.
Shiels wondered; and Annie having done her work, took up her station at
the door with her gown-skirt over her head; there she stood listening
for the sound of a step, for it was too dark to see, and at last, she
heard a heavy foot approaching, but it was Donald returning from the
hills, followed by Jock.
"You haven't seen anything of Rob, have you?" said Annie.
"How should I see Rob! He's gone to Gifford ar'n't he?"
"You might have been on that side of the hill?"
"Ar'n't he come back with the stuff?"
"No; he might have been here three hours since. I can't think what's
become of him."
"Stopt at the Fair, may-be; there's dancing the night at the Lion."
"Nonsense!" said Annie, pouting her lips at him, and turning away to
prepare their evening meal.
Donald shook himself, and stamped his feet to get rid of the snow, and
then entered the kitchen. Mrs. Shiels hearing a foot, came down, hoping
to find Rob; and was very much disappointed when she saw it was Donald.
"What can that boy be doing, all this time?" she said.
"Perhaps he met Ihan, and went back for the camphor," suggested Annie.
"He'd never think of such a thing! Ihan would not let him; that is, if
he had got any way on," said Mrs. Shiels.
"There's dancing the night at the Lion," reiterated Donald.
"Why, the boy would never think of staying for that!" exclaimed Mrs.
Shiels; indignant at the mere notion of such a disorderly proceeding.
"To be sure, he wouldn't," said Annie; "Donald knows that well enough;"
and her lip curled as she spoke!
Annie was evidently disturbed at Rob's prolonged absence, and angry with
Donald's insidious attempts to put an ill construction on it. But still
Rob did not come.
Annie went on preparing the supper, which consisted of porridge; and
when she had poured it into the bowls, she made two messes for the dogs.
"Where's Coullie?" she said looking round.
"Arn't he here?" inquired Donald.
"No.--Don't you see he's not?"
"Well, I thought he came in with me," said Donald; and going to the door
he began whistling the familiar whistle that calls home the dogs. Jock
leaving his bowl of porridge, that Annie had set down, went to the door
too. Presently they both returned; Donald sat down to his supper,
saying, he supposed the dog would come presently; and Jock applied
himself to his.
As the night drew on, the wonders and conjectures increased, and the
family grew more and more fidgity and perplexed at Rob's absence. Donald
went to bed as he had to be up betimes in the morning; Mrs. Shiels did
the same, because she slept in her sick husband's room; Annie lingered
as long as she could; then she made up a good fire, set a saucepan of
porridge on the hob, left a bowl and a spoon, and salt on the table, and
went to bed too. When she was undrest and had extinguished her candle,
she opened the lattice window of her chamber and put out her head. The
snow still fell, and it was very dark; after listening for some minutes,
she shut the window, and softly opening her chamber door, she crept down
stairs again to the kitchen. There she unhooked a lantern from the wall,
put a lighted candle in it, and returning to her room, she hung it on
the latch of the window before she got into bed. She thought she should
not sleep, but after a little while she did, and soundly too, till next
morning. When she opened her eyes at dawn of day, the candle was burnt
out, but the sight of the lantern in so unusual a place, reminded her
immediately why she had placed it there, and she wondered whether Rob
had come home in the night, and been let in by Donald. When she came
down, Donald was already outside the house cleaning his shoes and
feeding the pigs. She called to him, "Is Rob come?"
"I don't know," he answered. Of course, then, he was not. It was most
extraordinary.
"Is Coullie come in?" she asked.
"I ha'nt seen him," he said.
He was very silent; swallowed his mess of porridge in haste, and then
set off to the hills with Jock. When Mrs. Shiels came down, the same
questions were reiterated; and when she found Rob was not come, she was
very angry, and expressed her conviction that he had staid for the dance
at the Lion. Even Annie no longer defended him, for where else could he
be all night? A pretty rating he will get when he comes back thought
she; and she could not deny that he well deserved it.
She expected him early, and every now and then she went to the door as
on the preceding day; but hour after hour passed, and he did not come.
All sorts of conjectures were formed as to the cause of the delay, but
Mrs. Shiels and her husband admitted but one solution of the
difficulty--"the boy's head had got clean turned, and he was gone to the
bad althegither."
At night, Donald came home to the great surprise of all, without
Coullie; he said he had seen nothing of the dog. Now Coullie was devoted
to Rob--in short, he was the only person the animal cared for--and it
occurred to Annie that he had somehow come upon Rob's footsteps, and
tracked him to Gifford, and she expected whenever they did come, to see
them both arrive together.
But that night passed and the next day, and then, towards evening,
Annie, who had been to the door, announced that she heard the pony's
foot; here was at hand one who doubtless would be able to solve the
mystery about the absentee. It was the first question addressed to
him--"Where's Rob?"
"How should I know?"
"Haven't you seen him?"
"Seen him, no; I've not seen him since the day before yesterday. Why?
what's the matter?"
"He's never come back from Gifford. Where was he when you saw him?"
"I never saw him at all, except in the morning before he set off."
"You did not meet him on the road, nor in the village?"
"No; I saw nothing of him after he left this."
"Did you hear if he had been there?"
"I never asked; I bought the camphor--here it is. How's father?"
At night, Donald came home, still without Coullie; and as the dog had
never strayed before, it was natural to conclude that he had gone after
Rob, wherever the latter might be. The irritation of Mr. and Mrs. Shiels
increased hourly, so did Annie's wonder and perplexity. The two young
men, Ihan and Donald, were differently affected; Ihan seemed rather
pleased, and he covertly taunted Annie with this desertion of her
favourite; Donald was only more silent and stolid than he had been
before.
But the next day, and the next passed, and so on through the winter, and
neither the man nor the dog were seen or heard of. It was ascertained by
enquiry that he had been at Gifford, and made his purchases, and it was
supposed, had left it early, but _that_ no one knew. Certainly, he was
not at the ball at the Lion. Somebody had seen him in company with a
young man from Edinburgh, in a tax cart, but nobody knew who he was;
and, finally, Mr. and Mrs. Shiels declared their conviction that,
tempted by fine promises--being an ambitious lad--he had gone off to
Edinburgh with this acquaintance, to better his fortune; and Ihan
appeared to adopt their opinion. Annie had considerable difficulty in
doing so; but, at length, even she ceased to defend him, since there was
no other way of accounting for his absence.
Before the winter was over, Donald had left. He had come home one night,
with his hands dreadfully mangled by a pole-cat, which he said he had
found devouring a rabbit under a bush, and had rashly attempted to lay
hold of. Hereupon, he went away to the infirmary in Edinburgh, to be
under Dr. S.; and Sandy Shiels engaged a man to fill his situation, and
also bought a dog in place of Coullie, whose loss he much regretted,
well-broken sheep dogs being very valuable.
Some time had elapsed--the fine weather had set in; and with it, the
farmer had got rid of his rheumatism, and resumed his former habits of
active occupation; when one day, as he was crossing the hill between his
own farm and a place called 'The Hopes,' he observed a dog trotting
along, that struck him as being very like Coullie. He gave a whistle,
and the animal stopt and looked round, and on calling him by his name,
he came up and fondled his master, appearing very glad to see him, and
finally accompanying him where he was going.
'The Hopes' was a gentleman's house, about three miles from Shiels'
farm, and when he reached the gate, he was surprised to hear the keeper
at the lodge say, patting the dog familiarly, "Well, Willie, so you've
come back again?" Whereupon Sandy asked him if he knew him.
"Oh, yes, I know him," he said; "he's a great favourite of the ladies
here. They found him on the hill nearly starved, some time ago, and he
followed them home, and has lived here, off and on, ever since."
"That's very odd," said Sandy, "for the dog's mine. I brought him up
from a pup, and we broke him ourselves--that is, a lad did, that lived
with me then, called Rob. But, one day last winter, the lad disappeared,
and the dog too, and I've never seen either of them since, till just now
I saw the dog on the hill."
"Well," said the keeper, "I think it was early in March the ladies
brought him home here. He often goes away; but he comes back again, and
the ladies take him along with them when they walk out."
Sandy could not conceive why the dog had deserted his home, or why he
had remained starving on the hill, when he knew very well where his food
awaited him. The keeper agreed in its being very extraordinary, since he
must have known his way over every part of the moor for miles round; and
suggested that he might have gone after the young man who had
disappeared, and been on his way back, when the ladies met him; but,
even if that were so, why had he not returned home since, especially as
he was frequently absent for hours, and sometimes all night?
When Sandy Shiels had concluded his business, and was about to depart,
he whistled the dog, who followed him willingly enough; but as he
approached his own house, Coullie shrunk behind, and seemed inclined to
turn tail, and run away; however, he came on in obedience to his
master's call, and was joyfully received by the family in general, who
listened with interest to the account of his adventures, as far as they
were known; all agreeing that his absence must, in some way, be
connected with that of Rob. It was observed that one of his first
movements was to examine the premises after his own fashion, sniffing
about, first below, and afterwards above stairs in the attic in which
Rob and Donald formerly slept. What was the result of these
investigations we cannot tell; but when they were concluded, he
stretched himself before the kitchen fire, and went to sleep.
The following days, Sandy took him on the hill when he went to look at
the sheep, and he did his duty as formerly; but on the third or fourth
evening he was missed, and was absent all night. He returned in the
morning, and was gently chided for this irregularity--the family
concluding he had been to visit his friends at "The Hopes;" however, a
few evenings after, when they were sitting at supper, with the doors
closed, and the dogs lying quietly dozing on the hearth, Coullie
suddenly started up, and began to show signs of uneasiness; while,
almost at the same moment, something like a low whistle reached their
ears, which seemed to proceed from the air, rather than the earth. They
had heard no sound of footsteps, but Ihan rose from the table and opened
the door; whereupon Coullie seized the opportunity to dart out, and Ihan
returned, saying he could see nobody, but that Coullie was off at the
rate of ten miles an hour. Everybody wondered where he was gone; and at
last it was concluded that some person from 'The Hopes' had been passing
near the house, and that the dog had recognised the whistle, and
followed him. The truant was found at the door in the morning, and
chided as before, but that did not prevent his repeating the offence,
till their wonder was greatly increased by the following
circumstance:--
Sandy Shiels always read prayers to his family on the Sunday evenings;
and one night, while he was thus engaged, and the dogs were lying
apparently asleep, Coullie suddenly uttered two or three low whines.
Annie raised her head from her book to bid him be silent, and observing
that he was sitting up, looking eagerly towards the door, which was
open, she turned her eyes in that direction, and saw to her
astonishment, a man standing in the dusk of the passage. As all the
inmates of the house were present, and the outer door was shut, so that
no stranger could have come in, she uttered an exclamation of surprise
which interrupted the reader, and caused everybody to turn their heads;
but with the sound of her voice the figure had disappeared, and the
others saw nothing. Coullie ran to the door, and became uneasy, while
Sandy asked what was the matter.
"I saw a man in the passage," said Annie, looking very pale and
agitated.
"A man," said Ihan, rising; "I saw no man;" and going into the passage,
he opened the outer door to look round; whereupon, Coullie seized the
opportunity, and rushed out.
"There's nobody that I see," said Ihan; "but the dog's off again."
"I'm sure I saw somebody," said Annie.
"Go and look up stairs," said Mrs. Shiels; Ihan went and returned,
saying there was nobody in the house but themselves, and Annie must have
been mistaken.
But Annie shook her head, and beginning to cry, asserted that she had
not been mistaken, and that she believed the man she saw was Rob,
adding, that she always thought that the whistle they sometimes heard,
and which agitated Coullie so much, was Rob's whistle.
At this suggestion, Ihan fired and showed symptoms of great irritation;
and if Sandy had not been present, high words would have arisen betwixt
him and Annie. As it was, his countenance was clouded all the rest of
the evening.
This event made a great impression on the young girl; she thought of it
day and night, and she watched with increasing interest Coullie's
inexplicable proceedings, which still continued. Sometimes of an evening
they would hear footsteps, whereon the dog would betray great
uneasiness till they opened the door, and he could dart off on his
mysterious errand. Once or twice they confined him and would not let him
go; but the animal seemed so much distressed and whined so piteously,
that they ceased to oppose his inclinations. Although when they heard
these footsteps they searched the premises in all directions, nobody was
ever to be found. Annie wished them to endeavour to find out where
Coullie went; but nobody seemed to have sufficient curiosity to take any
trouble about the matter, though they all admitted the singularity of
the circumstances. No doubt, it was difficult, inasmuch as he always
started on these expeditions at night, while he ran off so rapidly that
it would have been impossible to overtake him or keep him in sight. This
state of things continued till the month of October, which became very
cold; and one morning, towards the end of it, Annie, when she went to
the door, found there had been a fall of snow in the night. Coullie, who
had gone off the evening before, was there waiting to be let in, and she
observed the track of his feet on the ground. It immediately occurred to
her that here was an opportunity of discovering what she wished so much
to know. She had nobody to consult, for her aunt and uncle were not come
down; and being a stout country girl, she threw her shawl over her head,
and calling the dog to follow her, she set off up hill and down dale,
guided by the marks of Coullie's footsteps which remained perfectly
distinct for about four miles in the direction of Gifford, when they
turned off to the left, and stopt at the edge of an old quarry. The dog,
who had trotted cheerily beside her, now began to descend into the
hollow, stopping and looking up every now and then, whining as if
inviting her to follow; but after several attempts she found the descent
too steep. When at the bottom, Coullie disappeared for a minute or two
under the embankment, and she heard him still whining; but finding she
could make no further investigations without assistance, she called the
dog who joined her directly, and they returned home to find Mrs. Shiels
in a dreadful state of mind at Annie's unaccountable and unprecedented
absence. However, when she communicated the cause of it, and the
discovery she had made, Sandy was sufficiently aroused to say that he
would send some one down to examine the quarry. He did so, and the
result was that they found the remains of poor Rob under circumstances
that led to the conclusion that he had somehow gone out of his way, and
fallen into the pit; for on medical examination, it appeared that both
his legs were broken. As the quarry was abandoned and in a lonely spot,
a person might very possibly die there under such circumstances without
being able to make his distress known.
Poor Rob's remains were committed to the earth; Coullie left off his
erratic habits and became an ordinary, but intelligent, sheep dog; and
the family at Shiel's farm, after due comment, on the singular events
that had led to the discovery of his body, which could only be accounted
for by admitting a spiritual agency (a view of the case which Ihan
always repelled with scorn) turned their thoughts into other channels,
with the exception of Annie, who had a strong persuasion that Rob had
not come fairly by his end; and oftentimes she would say to Coullie when
alone with the dog, "Ah, Coullie, if you had a tongue that could speak,
I think you could tell a tale!"
And Coullie looked at her with his large wise eyes full of affection;
for she petted and cherished him for Rob's sake, and always gave him the
largest mess at supper time.
Sometimes, too, Annie had strange thoughts about Ihan; he had become
more dark, and silent, and sulky, since Rob's death; was it because he
was jealous of the interest she had exhibited, or was it from any other
cause? Did he meet Rob that day on his way to Gifford? What could Rob be
doing so much out of the road as the Quarry? These thoughts naturally
made her more and more cold to Ihan, whilst her reserve aggrivated his
ill-temper and dissatisfaction.
And Annie was not the only person to whom these questions suggested
themselves. People would gossip amongst themselves secretly; it got
abroad that there had been a good deal of jealousy amongst the young
men, and it was whispered that the first Mrs. Shiels had aptly named her
son when she called him Ihan Dhu--Black John. At length, these reports
reached Sandy Shiels and his son; the latter appeared sullenly
indifferent, but they made the old man very unhappy; and every night
when he prayed aloud with the family before retiring to rest, he
besought God, saying, "Oh Lord if it be thy pleasure, may them that are
innocent be justified!"
At term time, when, in Scotland, servants frequently, especially farm
servants, change their situations, the man whom Shiels had engaged in
Donald's place left; and having heard that Donald, who had been in
service at Dunse, was leaving also, Sandy wrote and proposed to him to
return; the proposal was accepted, and they were expecting him, when a
cart was heard to stop at the door, out of which they looked to see him
alight; but the visitor proved to be an old Highland woman who
introduced herself as Rob's grandmother--his father and mother having
emigrated. She said she had heard the account of her boy's death, and
the attachment displayed by the dog, and that she had come all the way
to see the animal, and had brought the money to purchase him; if his
master did not object. She had travelled from Argyleshire to Haddington
by coach; and at the latter place she had hired a cart and a lad to
drive her to her destination. She added that she and her old man "were
no that puir but that they could afford to buy the dog that had been so
faithful to their ain boy."
Sandy Shiels and his family made her welcome; invited her to stay and
take a day or two's repose after her journey, and granted her request
with regard to Coullie. Annie was very much interested in the old woman;
and the latter was deeply impressed with the circumstances the young
girl related to her; enquiring minutely into every particular of places
and persons connected with the boy's death. She said it was "wonderfu';"
adding, that she had "seen" Rob's funeral,--meaning by the second
sight--"but not the manner of his death; but she had no doubt God would
shew it her before she died."
On the third day she departed; and Sandy Shiels, who had business at
Gifford, drove her and Annie, who wished to accompany her, in his cart.
They started in time to meet the coach, Coullie making the fourth
passenger; and in due time reached the village and drove up to the door
of the Lion, where three or four men were sitting on the bench outside
smoking and drinking beer; but the moment the cart stopped--almost
before it had stopped--Coullie bounded out of it and with indescribable
fury attacked one of the men. His master called him, but he was deaf to
his voice; and so violent was his rage that it was not without the
assistance of the others that he could draw him off. Even then, whilst
holding him back with an iron grasp, the dog growled and shewed his
teeth, and with flashing eyes, struggled to renew the onslaught.
"Wha's that?" asked the old woman, who had witnessed the scene with
surprise.