_AN EXCURSION_.
Mrs. Sangster decided that Mr. Wallowby ought to see something of the
country during his stay. An excursion was planned, and to introduce
some appearance of novelty into the party, the Rev. Roderick was
summoned to join the expedition.
It was an early September morning when they started from Auchlippie.
Peter drove the phaeton, and his friend sat beside him on the box.
Inside were the ladies and the minister, in his quality of priest, or
one of the third sex, which, as though not either male or female,
possesses all the claims to deference of both, and owes the duties of
neither. Roderick sat in the back seat beside his hostess, while the
two young ladies faced him. The two gentlemen on the box looked back
from time to time with some remark which was gaily responded to by the
ladies, and Roderick occasionally joined in with a quiet jest. The
presence of Sophia filled his mind with happiness too deep for
merriment, and there she sat before him in full view.
Sophia being a placid person abounding in the beauty of repose, had
worked her spell upon him more by looks, which he had interpreted into
sympathy, and what he chose to imagine the beauty of her virgin soul,
than by anything she had ever said. Looking in her eyes he had dreamt
of all that was loveliest and then fancied he saw it there. Another
Narcissus, he had gazed in their crystal depths, and, mistaking his
own reflection for the spirit of the flood, had fallen in love with
it.
It made little matter to him that they were in the midst of a merry
company, he could sun himself in the presence that was so much of his
own creating all the same, and save that he was more silent than at
other times, no one could have observed any departure from his usual
bearing. Sophia was aware of his mute observance, and thought it 'very
nice,' she was used to it, and it required from her no irksome effort
in response, which, as her thinking part was neither imaginative nor
emotional, and somewhat sluggish besides, was comfortable. The
contrast between Roderick's quiet and the lively loquacity of Mr.
Wallowby, told all in favour of the former; for although Mary and her
mother with their greater readiness relieved her from the necessity of
reply, it was mortifying thus to realize her own slowness, and she
found the constant smiling and laughter over jests whose point she had
missed, fatiguing to her facial muscles, and at last she took refuge
in a private chat with Roderick as to whether he thought the day would
keep fine and such like weighty matters.
[Illustration: Loch Gorton and Inchbracken. Page 79.]
They drove across the upland moors and the ridge dividing Glen Effick
from the neighbouring valley of the Gorton, and down Gorton side to
where it spreads into the lake of the same name. At that point it is
crossed by a bridge, the road passing an old posting inn which looks
down the loch, and is backed by Craig Findochart, the highest mountain
of the district, and the goal of the day's expedition.
Loch Gorton is a basin among the hills, deep and narrow at its upper
end, but broadening and shallowing towards its base. It fills the
mouth of a valley whose precipitous slopes crowd down upon the water
at its head, but draw back in lessening and ever-widening undulations
from the lower end. Near the outlet is the broad low island of
Inchbracken, connected with the mainland by a narrow neck of land.
Here in the old time stood the castle of the Drysdales, commanding the
isthmus, which they cut across and commanded by a drawbridge. The moat
is filled up now, and the square old keep, ivy-grown and ruinous, has
sunk into a mere picturesque feature in the shrubbery of the modern
mansion.
Leaving their phaeton at the Bridge of Gorton Inn, the party secured a
guide, and proceeded to ascend the hill. A steep footpath led across
several enclosed fields, and brought them through a stretch of oak
copsewood to a track of open pasture, whence they could look down on
the lake spread out at their feet, while the great purple mountain
reared its steep shoulders above them, swelling in broad sweeps of
heath backward and upward to the beetling crags far up, thrusting
their jagged outlines into the sky, and shutting out the climber from
the distant summit.
The belt of pasture past, climbing began in earnest. The shaggy
heather was knee deep in many places, and every here and there the
rocky knuckles of the mountain projected through the peaty soil.
The party began to straggle. Mary, sound of wind and limb,
light-footed and active, was in front with the guide. Peter and
Wallowby toiled closely behind, the latter showing the first signs of
distress in shortening breath, and handkerchief applied occasionally
to his brow. Mrs. Sangster followed in steady mechanical fashion. Her
fifty odd summers had no doubt impaired the elasticity of her frame,
but had left behind a fund of tough endurance and sturdy will, which
did very well in its stead. Sophia and Roderick brought up the rear,
the coolest and calmest of the party. Her fine physique made the
exertion both light and pleasant, and her tranquil soul supplied a
wellspring of inward coolness, which even hill-climbing was unable to
overheat, while Roderick by her side among the sunshine and the
ever-widening view, walked on air, held forth at will, and dreamed
aloud in words overflowingly; while his placid companion smiled and
looked at him out of her beautiful eyes, listening, and sometimes
understanding what he said. The path became steeper after a while, and
Mrs. Sangster stopped to take breath, looking around the while for the
others.
Mary and the young men were perched upon a rock high over her head,
and when she looked down Roderick and Sophia came calmly following
her. It seemed too much that Mary should monopolize not only Peter
(though that was well enough), but also the wealthy party from
Manchester, who had been sent by Providence, as she still thought, to
open a larger sphere of usefulness to her daughter; meaning really, if
self-delusion would ever let us speak plainly to ourselves, a carriage
and pair and a handsome establishment. The ice between the two had
been hard to break, what better way could there be to thaw it, than
the small difficulties and adventures of a mountain ramble? And here
the stupid girl was letting her opportunity escape, and trifling it
away with a young man whom she could beckon to her side any day, and
could always fall back upon if more ambitious aims did not succeed. A
more worldly or a more single-minded mamma would no doubt have spoken
plainly to her daughter, and so might have influenced that not very
perspicuous person more effectually, but Mrs. Sangster had the
misfortune to be looking two ways at once, or like the boatman in the
_Pilgrim's Progress_, she looked one way while she pulled the other.
She loved and appreciated the good things of the world, as thoroughly
as any one, but at the same time she was wont to say, and to really
think that she thought they were a snare, or dross, in comparison with
higher interests. She could not bring her tongue to frame such advice
to her daughter as would in any way derogate from true religion, or
the old-fashioned 'true, true love,' she had thought and sang of in
her own youth. She could only suggest and influence in a half-ashamed
sort of way. But she was disappointed and mortified that a
daughter of hers should be so wanting in common sense. After all the
advantages of her upbringing, how came it that she should fail of that
well-regulated mind, which, seeing both sides of a question, can both
say what is 'nice' in regard to the higher, and at the same time
follow the more profitable. The thing requires a little casuistry, but
it must be of the unspoken kind. It cannot be decently uttered, so
each must work it out alone in those secret chambers of the brain,
where not the prying eye of conscience even may intrude. Any one would
feel annoyed at a carefully and expensively-educated daughter throwing
herself away, and all the proud hopes that have been formed for her,
on a poor match; yet openly to preach the mercenary would be infamy.
So felt Mrs. Sangster, and she was greatly disturbed; for hers was
virtue of the uncomfortable, rather than of the heroic kind,--it could
not make her choose the better way, but it would reproach her if she
followed the worse. As for Sophia, her mother wronged her if she
suspected her of unwisely preferring the good to the profitable. She
was only dull. Money and all it could buy would, she felt, be
delightful to have, but she did not feel equal to winning it. Roderick
had looked and succumbed to her beauty, and it would be very pleasant
if Mr. Wallowby would do likewise; it would be grand,--and no personal
preference should prevent her making her fortune; but if Mr. Wallowby
was only to be captured by something she was to do, she resigned the
idea at once; she felt she could do nothing, and the very idea of
doing anything to win his regard made her ashamed, which was what
might have been expected. If people will bring up their girls to be
high-minded and good, they have no right to expect scheming and
meanness from them after they are grown.
'Oh, Mr. Roderick,' said Mrs. Sangster, 'I fear I must ask you to take
pity on an old woman. This climbing is hot work, with the sun beating
down so on my old back. I can bear the weight of my shawl no longer.
If there was only a breeze! But the air seems stagnant, and my old
limbs are not what they once were.'
'We have only to get a very little higher now to have wind enough,'
said Roderick, doubling the shawl on his arm. 'See Mr. Wallowby's
handkerchief up there how it blows about. If you will accept a little
assistance over this steep place, you will soon reach the cooler
level.'
'Sophia!' continued the mother, 'I believe that guide will break a
bottle, or something, the way he swings the basket about. Pray bid him
take care or we shall have a dry luncheon to eat when we get to the
top of the hill,--there will be no water up there. It makes me quite
nervous to look at him.'
So Sophia was despatched in advance while the older lady made a
leisurely survey of the prospect at her feet.
'A beautiful place Inchbracken, with its woods spreading out beyond
the island and rolling away into the distance, and the steeple of
Kilrundle church rising from among them. Dives with his good things,
and Lazarus with his evil things! You must feel thankful to have
chosen the better part, Mr. Roderick.'
'I feel no misgiving about my choice whatever, but I hope there is no
reason to look on General Drysdale as another Dives. Difference in
people's circumstances, shows things in so different a light.'
'Ah! my young friend, charity is good, but it must be according to
knowledge.'
'But, Mrs. Sangster, the General is a most worthy man, a kind master
and a good landlord, and an honourable gentleman.'
'I will not say, Mr. Roderick, that his hands are red with the blood
of the saints, because it has not been left in his power to take the
lives of the Lord's people; but he has been very bitter against the
Free Church. We may fairly include him among the persecutors, driving
us forth to worship God according to our conscience, on the bare
hill-side, and refusing us a stance to build our church on any part of
his property. Now, I have always said, that that open place facing
Inchbracken gate is where our new church should stand. There it could
testify before the very walls of the Erastian temple, instead of being
huddled away in the corner of widow Forester's kale-yard.'
'But how would you like a Roman Catholic or even an Episcopal Chapel
set down opposite your own gate at Auchlippie?'
'Mr. Roderick! Popery and Prelacy! To hear you evening our true
scriptural protesting Free Church to the Babylonish apostacy, with
their white gowns, and their organs, and their traditions of men! I
fear there's a leaven of latitudinarianism among you younger men. You
should follow the staunch old lights like Mr. Dowlas, to steady your
principles. How you can recall the doings of Archbishop Sharp, and
speak lightly of Episcopacy, is what I can't comprehend!'
They had now reached the last steep ascent which ended on the summit.
This left the old lady no spare breath to hold forth, and she was glad
to catch hold of Roderick's arm to assist in pulling herself up the
nearly vertical slope. The wind-swept cairn at the top was at length
reached, and, notwithstanding her late complaints, Mrs. Sangster was
forced to shelter herself from the keen breeze, under its lee, and to
resume the shawl she had discarded.
Craig Findochart rises high over the surrounding hills especially
towards the east. On that side they gradually diminish and die away in
the belt of cultivation that borders the sea. To the north is a narrow
glen running down into a fertile strath well-wooded and watered by a
river of some size; beyond, the lofty Highland mountains toss their
battered summits in the air, a very sea of emulously-surging peaks.
Westward it is mountainous again but more various. The eye travels far
up more than one winding strath, while glancing lakes shine out every
here and there among the greys and purples of mountain and moor.
Southward the view is narrower and loses itself in haze, a greyness
which rises indistinctly from the distant country, but when once
fairly launched in heaven, swells and curls and rears itself into vast
white battlements of cloud, and drifts before the wind shining and
luminous, like some great iceberg in a transparent sea.
Having surveyed the view, the party sought such shelter from the
chilling breeze as was attainable, on the leeward slope, and proceeded
to rest and refresh themselves, after their fatigues; the old lady,
with some elation at having climbed the hill as cleverly as the
youngest, doing the honours of her provision basket with garrulous
hospitality, while the others reclined on the scanty herbage with
infinite zeal. The warmth gained by exercise withstood the sharp upper
air, whose biting keenness felt only bracing and exhilarating to those
toilers upward from the airless heat below; but after half an hour
they had parted with the surplus heat gained by exertion, and began to
feel distinctly cold. There seemed a failing too in the brightness of
the light, except over the distant sea, which still glittered crisp
and bright in unclouded sunshine. A wan greyness seemed to be stealing
over the landscape, not as when passing clouds dapple the view with
well defined blocks of shadow, but rather a diffused withdrawal of
warmth and light all undefined and vague, but ever deepening like the
stealthy advances of sickness or death upon a living thing. Looking
upwards they now for the first time observe great vaporous arms and
wreaths extending over their heads and stretching out towards the
still bright heavens in the north-east. Turning round they find the
outlook completely obliterated. The shining cloud-masses of an hour
before in the south-west have drifted down upon them, and are now
nothing but curling wreaths of cold damp mist, seething and twisting,
but ever downward and onward. They seem scarcely to have descried
overhead its first advancing arms ere it has descended on them and
lapped them from the world in cold damp greyness, above, below, and
all around them. From far down the hill ascends the report of a gun,
and by and by another, telling them that others besides themselves are
on the mountain, and that they are still upon firm ground; but for
that they might be anywhere or nowhere, the mist hems them in utterly,
the very ground they stand on becomes indistinct, and they stretch
their arms to touch each other and make sure they are not each alone.
They gather close together standing perfectly still, a step in any
direction may precipitate them they know not whither, and the damp
clammy vapour creeps close about them soaking hair and clothing, and
chilling them to the bone.
'It is only a cloud and will soon pass,' some one says; so they agree
it will be safer to wait than to attempt a descent not knowing where
their next step may carry them. They huddle closely together and watch
and shiver; at one moment it seems growing lighter overhead, and
glimmerings of the bright sky shine through, but anon a surging wreath
drifts up, and the promising rift closes in again denser than before.
For more than an hour they stood thus afraid to move, stiffening and
shivering in the cold. The day was passing, but the mist showed no
sign of rising; on the contrary it grew thicker and more wetting, and
the idea of spending the night where they were, began to present
itself as a possibility unless they made a bold venture to move. To
die of cold where they were, appeared a certainty if they remained,
while there was at least a hope of escape, in tempting the uncertain
dangers of the descent.
Wallowby being a stranger was told to keep hold of the guide, and
Sophia was entrusted to their joint care. Mary and Peter having both
some knowledge of the hills and the country followed next, while
Roderick who had often shot over the ground, undertook to pilot the
old lady. The three groups were to keep together as well as they
could, and by constant shouting they hoped to keep within each other's
ken.
With infinite care, groping and feeling around at every step, they
commenced to descend, the grey obscurity swallowing them up, and
concealing each group from the others. The voices seemed muffled by
the fog, but they enabled them still to hold together.
Down they went, stumbling over loose stones, clambering down rocks and
slipping among the heather now dripping with moisture, Mrs. Sangster
vowing it should be her last expedition of the kind, if ever she got
safe to 'bigget land' again.
'Hold more to the left!' shouted the guide, an injunction which Mrs.
Sangster hastened to obey, though still very far from the point it was
meant to apply to and thereby found herself on a steep rock face,
where she was compelled to turn round, and grasping the heather bushes
above, to step gingerly backwards, down into the unknown.
'Oh! Mr. Roderick, this is awful!'
'Another step and you will come to level foothold again.'
'Oh! but I can't; I am caught in something. There it goes--and now I
have lost my gold spy-glass, something has caught the chain and broken
it. Oh, Mr. Roderick! will you help me to find it! I shall never be
able to read my psalm-book on Sunday, if I lose it. Oh dear! oh dear!
what an old fool I have been. Skemmeling over Findochart like a
nine-year old!'
Roderick shouted to the others to wait, but the cry lost itself in the
mist, or was misunderstood. The voices from below came up fainter and
fainter, and finally they were heard no more.
The search for the 'spy-glass' occupied some time, and all their
attention, but eventually it was found within a foot or two of where
they stood, and it was not till then that they discovered they were
alone on the hillside. Roderick shouted till he was hoarse, but there
came no response, and it became evident they must shift for
themselves.
'Most disgraceful conduct! such heartlessness! To think that Peter
Sangster, my own son, whom I have sat up with, and nursed through
measles and hooping-cough, till my back was like to break, should drag
his old mother up here among the clouds, and then desert her!' and
here the old lady began to whimper, but took care to make the
'spy-glass' secure in some inner receptacle of her dress.
Roderick suggested that it was getting late, and that by making haste
they might yet overtake the runaways.
'I hope we may. But who knows? They may have fallen over a precipice,
and be lying maimed and mangled at the bottom. Oh dear! it may be days
before they are found. My poor Sophia! that would have looked so well
riding about Manchester in her own carriage! She may have broken her
neck, or disfigured herself for life! lying bruised and bleeding on a
heap of stones. And the crows come and pick at people, they tell me,
when they are too much hurt to drive them away. Oh dear, oh dear!
Her active mind conjured up every imaginable horror, till, distracted
by the pictures of her own invention, she lifted up her voice and wept
sore.
Roderick stood by powerless, and eventually silent. Each word of
consolation served but to start her imagination on a new track of
suggestions more frightful than the last, so he held his peace and
waited. Tears brought relief in time, and now fear for herself took
the place of more fanciful terrors.
'Oh, come away, Roderick!' she cried, 'what are you standing there
for?--glowering at nothing! Come away!'
The descent proceeded. And now they were on an extended flat,
undulating in all directions, and lying between the steep ascent to
the summit and the declivity which sloped to the next level below.
Without the guidance afforded by continuous descent, they found very
soon that they had completely lost their way, and could form no idea
of what direction they were moving in.
'I thought you had often shot over this hill, and knew it well,
Roderick Brown, or I would never have trusted myself in your hands;
but it seems to me you know nothing about it. I'm thinkin' we may
wander about here all night, for anything _you_ can do to bring us
home. So I am just going to sit down till the Lord sends us help!
Home! I'll never see home again; and a sorrowful woman I am, that I
ever set out on this fool's errand!'
'We must do as I have had to do more than once before, Mrs. Sangster,
when I got befogged in the hills, follow a stream of running
water--the first we can find. The water will find its way down
somewhere, and will bring us to a house eventually, though it may take
us through some difficult places.'
A burn was by-and-by found, and they set themselves to follow its
course wherever that might lead, like the clue by which some devious
labyrinth is disentangled. It led through swampy places sometimes, and
sometimes tumbled downward among rocks and under high banks, but they
were already so wet that walking in its bed where the sides were too
craggy and difficult made small difference, and after clambering
downwards for more than an hour, they were rejoiced by the barking of
a dog some distance below them.
'Do you hear that? Mrs. Sangster; I think we are nearing a habitation
at last!'
Mrs. Sangster drew a long breath, and stood upright to listen; letting
go her hold of the bushes by whose help she was scrambling down in the
bed of the burn. The rock she stood on was slippery. On changing her
poise her feet slid from under her, and with a scream, and a
clattering of stones, she shot forward and downward upon her
companion, landing them both in a pool of water.
'Oh, Roderick Brown! You'll be the death of me! How dare you try your
cantrips on a woman old enough to be your mother? Dragging me through
bogs and down precipices, and ducking me in burns till I haven't a dry
stitch on my back, or an easy bone in my body! I'll have ye up before
the presbytery for a graceless loon! Oh, laddie! never mind what I
say. My head's just going round and round, I think I'm demented! Lay
me on the bank to drip--and let me die in peace! I can go no further.'
[Illustration: "She shot forward and downward upon her companion,
landing them both in a pool of water." Page 88.]
'Nonsense, Mrs. Sangster. Just a few steps more! We must be very close
to some shieling now. I declare I can smell the peat reek in the air!
Here is a footpath going down the hill--come! let us follow it.'
'Give me your hand, then, for I do not think I have courage left to
stand alone, far less walk. Oh! What an experience!'
They reached a shepherd's cottage in a few minutes more, where the
wife of Stephen Boague, surrounded by dogs and children, came out to
receive them. Roderick was not sorry to hand over his charge to the
good woman's care, but he would not linger himself, he must hasten to
the inn, though that was three miles off, to learn if the others had
not arrived there, and if not to send searchers up the mountain after
them. The mist had changed into a drizzling rain, but he was already
too wet to feel it, and too anxious for the others to have any thought
for himself.