A BOLT FROM THE BLUE.
"O Life! how pleasant in thy morning,
Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning."
BURNS.
General Grant Mackenzie was a somewhat impulsive man. It is the nature
of the Celt to be impulsive. His nervous system is far more finely
strung than that of the plethoric or adipose Saxon, and it vibrates to
the slightest breath of emotion. Mind, I talk of the ideal Celt--be he
Irish or Scotch--and General Grant Mackenzie was an ideal Celt. And
sitting here with my good guitar on my knee, I cannot help comparing a
nature like his to just such a beautiful stringed instrument as this.
What a world of fine feeling lies herein; what a wealth of poetry, what
sadness, what tenderness--ay, and what passion as well! Behold, on this
music-stand lies a big old book--a book with a story to it, for it
belonged to my unfortunate ancestor Symon Fraser of Lovat, who was
beheaded on Tower Hill. It is Highland music all, and sweet to me are
its mournful laments as breathed by my sad guitar; but--I turn a
leaf--and here is a battle-piece. Ha! the instrument hath lost its
sadness, or only here and there come wailing notes like moans of the
wounded amidst the hurry, the scurry, the dashing, and the clashing of
this terrible tulzie. Can't you see the claymores glitter? Can't you see
the tartans wave, and nodding plumes among the rolling smoke? Oh, I can.
Seems as if the guitar would burst its very strings; but, the battle is
over--cry of vanquished, shout of victor, all are hushed. And now comes
the ghostly music of the coronach: they are burying the dead. And the
instrument appears to sob, to weep, till the sweet low song of grief in
cadence dies.
A nature like that of Grant Mackenzie, then, or of his son--for both
seemed cast in the same mould--needs a well-trained, well-balanced mind
to guide and restrain it; for there are few occasions indeed in this
world when one dares lay bare his soul and feelings even to his best
friends.
The day after M'Hearty's visit to Jack, the young post-captain, with his
friend Tom Fairlie, was just finishing breakfast, when in dashed the
general. Next minute his son was pressed against his breast just as if
he had been a child.
Jack had spilt his tea and knocked over a chair in his hurry to get to
his father; but what did that matter? So there they stood looking at
each other for a moment, the tears in both their eyes.
Maybe the old general was a trifle ashamed of such weakness, for next
moment he burst into a merry laugh.
"Why, Jack, my brave boy," he cried, "there are only two arms between
the pair of us. But yours will get well; mine, alas, is in the grave!"
Flora came up now, and Jack seemed delighted to see her.
"And here," he said, "here, Flora, is the best friend I have in the
world--Tom Fairlie.--Nay, never blush, Tom, my brother.--He it was,
Flora, who helped to take me below after I got hit; and when even the
surgeon--grand old fellow M'Hearty! father, you shall know him--gave me
up, Tom stuck to me, and he has been nursing me ever since as if I were
a child. Ah, Flora, there is no friendship on earth so true, and no
love either, as that man bears for man."
Jack looked at his sister as he spoke, and that glance told her he knew
all.
"Father, I had almost forgotten to tell you of my espousal."
"Espousal, Jack! You astonish me; it can't be true!"
"Oh, but it is."
He picked his sword off the couch as he spoke and held it out to his
father.
"Let me present my bride," he said, laughing.
The general himself could laugh now.
"So pleased, so pleased! But, 'pon honour, you young rascal, you pretty
nearly took your old father's breath away. Married! bless my soul, talk
about that thirty years hence; and blame me, Jack, but that itself might
be too soon.
"So you knocked the French about a bit? Well done, Jack; and well done,
Lieutenant Fairlie."
"Oh," said the young sailor, laughing, "they always call me Tom."
"Well, Tom," said the general, holding out his hand, "you and my brave
lad fought nobly; but bless my heart, he wouldn't be a true Mackenzie if
he couldn't fight. So you gave it to the Froggies hot, eh? I knew you
would. Second only to the British army is the British navy, lads."
"And second only to the British navy, father, is the British army."
"Bravo! _esprit de corps_. Well, I like it. But I've news for you, Jack.
Why, your old father, you young dog you, is going to take command again.
Ha, ha! sword arm all right, and head-piece in glorious form."
"O father, I'm so delighted!"
"Yes, boy, and there is one thing I look forward to--ay, and pray
for--and that is for you and me, Jack, to be in the same field of
battle, and drubbing the French as only British sailors and soldiers
can."
"Father, you've made me happy.--Why, Tom, this all but reconciles me to
the loss of the love--"
Jack stopped, looking a little confused.
"Love--love? Why, Jack, my lad, what is this? Love of whom, boy?"
"Oh, only a pet spaniel, father. No, not dead. Lost though; enticed
away--with a bone, I suppose."
"Just the way with spaniels, Jack. Glad it's no worse. But 'pon honour,
Jack, though you're not old enough to know it, womankind are precious
little better. I _know_ 'em well, Jack; I know 'em. A bone will entice
them too, particularly a bone with a bit of meat on it."
* * * * *
Jack Mackenzie was not a young man who cared for much nursing. Had Gerty
been his nurse it would doubtless have been all so different. However,
it was very pleasant for Jack to while away the next month or two down
at Grantley Hall, and to be treated like an interesting invalid and made
a hero of by old maids and young ones too. The curate of the parish had
not a chance now.
Then the country was so lovely all around the Hall. Though lacking the
grandeur and romance of our Scottish Highlands, the land of the broads,
with its wealth of wild flowers, its dreamy, quiet lakes, its waving
reeds, its moors, and its birds, throws a glamour over one in
spring-time that no true lover of nature can resist.
Jack's arm was well in a month, and he was waiting for service. He did
not mind waiting even a little longer, and most assuredly Tom Fairlie
did not, nor M'Hearty either, who was also a guest at the Hall. Richards
also had come down to spend a week or two. He and M'Hearty became
inseparables.
A great old tub of a boat belonged to Mackenzie, and this lay on an
adjoining broad or lake. Tom and Jack fitted it out as a kind of
gondola, and many a pleasant hour did the young folks spend together on
the water, sometimes not returning till stars were reflected from the
dark bosom of the lake or the moonbeams seemed to change it into molten
gold.
A pleasant time indeed--a time that flew all too quickly for poor Tom
Fairlie.
One evening, when hanging up his hat in the hall, Jack's father took him
by the hand and led him silently into the library.
"Father, father," cried Jack, "what has happened?"
"A bolt from the blue, my boy; a bolt from the blue."