A DAUGHTER OF HERODIAS.
The days at Lindean dragged past, and the last traces of summer began to
disappear from the face of the hills. The bent grew browner, the trees more
ragged, and the torrent below more turgid and boisterous. Yet no word came
from the hills, and, sooth to tell, we almost ceased to look for it. 'Twas
not that we had forgotten the minister and Master Semple in their hiding,
for the thought of them was often at hand to sadden me, and Anne, I must
suppose, had many anxious meditations; but our life at Lindean was so
peaceful and removed from any hint of violence that danger did not come
before our minds in terrible colors. When the rain beat at night on the
window, and the wind howled round the house, then our hearts would smite us
for living in comfort when our friends were suffering the furious weather.
But when the glorious sun-lit morning had come, and we looked over the
landscape, scarce free from the magic of dawn, then we counted it no
hardship to be on the hills. And rain came so seldom during that time, and
the sun so often, that the rigor of the hill-life did not appal us.
This may account for the way in which the exiles slipped from our memories
for the greater part of the day. For myself I say nothing--'twas but
natural; but from Anne I must confess that I expected a greater show of
sorrow. To look at her you would say that she was burdened with an old
grief, so serious was her face; but when she would talk, then you might see
how little her heart was taken up with the troubles of her house and the
care for her father and lover. The girl to me was a puzzle, which I gave up
all attempting to solve. When I had first come to Lindean, lo! she was
demure and full of filial affection, and tender to her lover. Now, when I
expected to find her sorrowful and tearful at all times, I found her quiet
indeed, but instinct with a passion for beauty and pleasure and all the
joys of life. Yet ever and anon she would take a fit of solemnity, and muse
with her chin poised on her hand; and I doubt not that at such times she
was thinking of her father and her lover in their manifold perils.
One day the rain came again and made the turf plashy and sodden, and set
the Lin roaring in his gorge. I had beguiled the morning by showing Anne
the steps of dancing, and she had proved herself a ready pupil. To pleasure
her I danced the sword-dance, which can only be done by those who have
great dexterity of motion; and I think I may say that I acquitted myself
well. The girl stood by in wonderment, looking at me with a pleasing
mixture of surprise and delight. She had begun to look strangely at me of
late. Every now and then when I lifted my head I would find her great eyes
resting on me, and at my first glance she would withdraw them. They were
strange eyes--a mingling of the fawn and the tiger.
As I have said, in a little time she had acquired some considerable skill,
and moved as gracefully as though she had learned it from her childhood,
while I whistled bars of an old dancing tune. She had a little maid who
attended her,--Eff she called her,--and the girl stood by to watch while
Anne did my bidding. Then when we were all wearied of the sport, I fell to
thinking of some other play, and could find none. 'Twas as dull as
ditch-water, till the child Eff, by a good chance, spoke of fishing. She
could get her father's rod and hooks, she said, for he never used them now;
and I might try my luck in the Lin Water. There were good trout there, it
seemed, and the choice time of taking them was in the autumn floods.
Now I have ever been something of a fisherman, for many an hour have I
spent by the big fish pond at Rohaine. So I got the tackle of Eff's
father--rude enough it was in all conscience--and in the early afternoon I
set out to the sport. Below the house and beyond the wood the Lin foams in
a deep gully, falling over horrid cascades into great churning pools, or
diving beneath the narrow rocks. But above the ravine there is a sudden
change. The stream flows equably through a flat moor in sedgy deeps and
bright shimmering streams. Thither I purposed to go, for I am no lover of
the awesome black caldrons, which call to a man's mind visions of drowned
bodies and pits which have no ending. On the moor with the wind blowing
about one 'twas a pleasure to be, but faugh! no multitude of fish was worth
an hour in that dismal chasm.
I had not great success, and little wonder, for my leisurely ways were ill
suited for the alert mountain fish. My time was spent in meditating on many
things, but most of all on the strange case in which I found myself. For in
truth my position was an odd one as ever man was in.
Here was I bound by my word of honor to bide in the house and protect its
inmates till that indefinite time when its master might return. There was
no fear of money, for the minister had come of a good stock, and had more
gear than is usual with one of his class. But 'twas an evil thing to look
forward to--to spend my days in a lonely manse, and wait the end of a
persecution which showed no signs of ending.
But the mere discomfort was nothing had it not been for two delicate
scruples which came to torment me. _Imprimis_, 'twas more than any man of
honor could do to dwell in warmth and plenty, while his entertainers were
languishing for lack of food or shivering with cold in the hags and holes
of the mountains. I am a man tolerably hardened by war and travel, yet I
could never abide to lie in bed on a stormy night or to eat my food of a
sharp morning when I thought of the old man dying, it might be, unsheltered
and forlorn. _Item_, there was the matter of the girl; and I cannot tell
how heavy the task had come to lie on my shoulders. I had taken the trust
of one whom I thought to be a staid country lass, and lo! I had found her
as full of human passion as any lady of the court. 'Twas like some groom
who offers to break a horse, and finds it too stiff in temper. I had
striven to do my duty toward her and make her life less wearisome, and I
had succeeded all too well. For I marked that in the days just past she had
come to regard me with eyes too kindly by half. When I caught her unawares,
and saw the curious look on her face, I could have bitten my tongue out
with regret, for I saw the chasm to whose brink I had led her. I will take
my oath there was no thought of guile in the maid, for she was as innocent
as a child; but 'tis such who are oftentimes the very devil, since their
inexperience adds an edge to their folly.
Thinking such thoughts, I fished up the Lin Water till the afternoon was
all but past, and the sunset began to glimmer in the bog-pools. My mind was
a whirl of emotions, and no plan or order could I conceive. But--and this
one thing I have often marked, that the weather curiously affected my
temper--the soft evening light brought with it a calm which eased me in the
conflict. 'Tis hard to wrangle in spirit when the west is a flare of
crimson, and later when each blue hill stands out sharp against the yellow
sky. My way led through the great pine wood above the Lin gorge, thence
over a short spit of heath to the hill path and the ordered shrubbery of
the manse. 'Twas fine to see the tree stems stand out red against the
gathering darkness, while their thick ever-green heads were blazing like
flambeaux. A startled owl drove past, wavering among the trunks. The air
was so still that the light and color seemed all but audible, and indeed
the distant rumble of the falling stream seemed the interpretation to the
ears of the vision which the eyes beheld. I love such sights, and 'tis
rarely enough that we see them in France, for it takes a stormy upland
country to show to its full the sinking of the sun. The heath with its dead
heather, when I came on it, seemed alight, as happens in March, so I have
heard, when the shepherds burn the mountain grass. But in the manse garden
was the choicest sight, for there the fading light seemed drawn to a point
and blazing on the low bushes and coarse lawns. Each window in the house
glowed like a jewel, but--mark the wonder--when I gazed over the country
there was no view to be seen, but only a slowly creeping darkness.
'Twas an eerie sight, and beautiful beyond telling. It awed me, and yet
filled me with a great desire to see it to the full. So I did not enter the
house, but turned my steps round by the back to gain the higher ground, for
the manse was built on a slope. I loitered past the side window, and
gained the place I had chosen; but I did not bide long, for soon the show
was gone, and only a chill autumn dusk left behind. So I made to enter the
house, when I noticed a light as of firelight dancing in the back window.
Now, I had never been in that room before, so what must I do in my idle
curiosity but go peeping there.
The room was wide and unfurnished, with a fire blazing on the hearth. But
what held me amazed were the figures on the floor. Anne, with her skirts
kilted, stood erect and agile as if about to dance. The girl Eff sat by the
fireplace, humming some light measure. The ruddy light bathed the floor
and walls and made all distinct as noonday.
'Twas as I had guessed. In a trice her feet began to move, and soon she was
in the middle of the first dance I had taught her, while _la petite_ Eff
sang the tune in her clear, low voice. I have seen many dancers, great
ladies and country dames, village lasses and burgher wives, gypsies and
wantons, but, by my honor, I never saw one dance like Anne. Her body moved
as if by one impulse with her feet. Now she would bend like a willow, and
now whirl like the leaves of the wood in an autumn gale. She was dressed,
as was her wont, in sober brown, but sackcloth could not have concealed
the grace of her form. The firelight danced and leaped in her hair, for her
face was turned from me; and 'twas fine to see the snow of her neck
islanded among the waves of brown tresses. With a sudden swift dart she
turned her face to the window, and had I not been well screened by the
shadows, I fear I should have been observed. But such a sight as her face I
never hope to see again. The solemnity was gone, and 'twas all radiant with
youth and life. Her eyes shone like twin stars, the even brown of her
cheeks was flushed with firelight, and her throat and bosom heaved with
the excitement of the dance. Then she stopped exhausted, smiled on Eff, who
sat like a cinder-witch all the while, and smoothed the hair from her brow.
"Have I done it well?" she asked.
"As weel as he did it himsel'," the child answered. "Eh, but you twae would
make a bonny pair."
I turned away abruptly and crept back to the garden path, my heart sinking
within me, and a feeling of guilt in my soul. I was angry at myself for
eavesdropping, angry and ashamed. But a great dread came on me as I thought
of the girl, this firebrand, who had been trusted to my keeping. Lackaday
for the peace of mind of a man who has to see to a maid who could dance in
this fashion, with her father and lover in the cold hills! And always I
called to mind that I had been her teacher, and that my lessons, begun as a
harmless sport to pass the time, were like to breed an overmastering
passion. _Mon Dieu!_ I was like the man in the Eastern tale who had raised
a spirit which he was powerless to control.
And just then, as if to point my meditations, I heard the cry of a plover
from the moor behind, and a plaff of the chill night-wind blew in my face.