Murphys far and near assembled to greet the returned wanderer. Scotty
and Hamish had intended to leave Dan at his home and hurry away, but
when the hero of the house of Murphy was dropped into the arms of the
excited crowd, they found leave-taking a difficult enterprise. Irish
hospitality, especially when transplanted to the land of Canadian
plenty, is a compelling force.
At first Scotty's impatience to get home resisted all invitations, and
old Pat was about to reluctantly allow them to depart, when Mrs.
Murphy, who until now had been weeping loudly on Dan's broad shoulder,
oblivious to everything but his return, suddenly awoke to the shameful
fact that someone was about to leave her doors without stopping to eat.
She issued no further invitation, but with her apron still to her eyes
and still exclaiming over and over in muffled sobs, that "the darlin'
had come back to his mother," she darted into the road; and snatching
the horses' bridle, dragged her guests through the gate and up to the
door, amid the applause of the assembled Flats.
And so they had supper in the Murphy home perforce, and all the great
deeds of their expedition had to be recounted. Scotty told how Dan had
disobeyed orders and run away at the battle of Kirbekan; only, like a
true Irishman, he had run to, not from the fight. But when his friend
returned the compliment and launched into an account of the midnight
skirmish at the ruined temple, the hero of that event arose hastily,
and declared they must be going.
There was much for Hamish both to tell and hear on the road, so the
afternoon was fading into evening when at last they reached the Scotch
Line. They had taken a detour round the Glen, for Scotty did not want
to be delayed by more friends. They passed the Weaver's clearing, and
Hamish declared how Jimmie and Kirsty were such an agreeable pair as
never was, for indeed the two lived in such a state of connubial
felicity as was a wonder to all the neighbours. Scotty caught a
glimpse of the little path through the cedars, the path where he and
Isabel had walked so often in those magic days succeeding Kirsty's
wedding. And there was the boiling spring by the roadside where they
had so often played, and the pools where they had gathered musk, and
yonder in the fence-corner they had built their first house.
And then there came a turn in the road and there it was! His old home!
It was just the same: the old garden in front with the rose bushes
turning green, and the Silver Maple putting forth its pink buds above
the roof! And there was Granny at the door, shading her eyes with her
hand; and beside her Mary Sandy, Rory's sister-in-law, who was now her
help; and Grandaddy, who had been pretending to cut wood all afternoon,
still holding the axe in his hand; yes, and even Old Farquhar, bobbing
about as excited as any!
With the instinct of long custom, Scotty jumped from the vehicle to
open the gate, but his trembling fingers refused to pull out the pin,
and the next moment he had cleared the bars in one mighty spring,
leaving Hamish, helpless with laughter, to shift for himself. Before
the gate was open he had charged up the hill like a whirlwind and
caught Granny off her feet.
And then such a time as there was with talking and hand-shaking and
laughter and tears, for even Mary Sandy took to crying out of sympathy
with her mistress, and Scotty himself had some work to keep his eyes
dry.
And no one could hear a word anyone else said, for as the long-absent
one crossed the threshold, Old Farquhar burst into loud and joyous
song. And what could do justice to the great occasion but "The Grave
of Highland Mary"? The old man's voice was strong with excitement, and
he drowned both the noise of joyful greeting and the din of the barking
dogs as he shouted triumphantly,--
"Then bring me the sigh of a fond lover's bosom
And bring me the tear of a fond lover's e'e,
And I'll pour them a' doon on thy grave, Highland May-ay-re,
For the sake o' thy Bur-urns who sae dearly loved thee!"
When the excitement had slightly subsided they had to sit down and
partake of such a supper as had never before been set out in that
house; for Granny would not listen to such foolish nonsense as that
they had eaten at Murphy's. She sat beside her boy, never touching her
own food, but heaping his plate, clapping him upon the back and
showering upon him all the endearing epithets she knew in a language
that is famous for them.
Big Malcolm sat close to him on the other side, his old warlike spirit
aroused, as his boy told his story. Scotty softened the hardships for
his grandmother's ears and said nothing of his own encounter in the
desert. He was graphically describing the manoeuvres of the
Highlanders at Kirbekan, much to his grandfather's delectation; when,
as if to give point to his narrative, there suddenly arose from the
direction of the road a splendid roar of pipes; and behold here came
Rory driving up the lane in a wagon, his whole family aboard; and he
himself, forgetful of his dignity as the father of the family, standing
up in the wagon and blowing up a tremendous pibroch on Fiddlin'
Archie's Sandy's bagpipes!
Scotty flung out of doors to meet him and had scarcely time for a
greeting when they sighted Weaver Jimmie and Kirsty hurrying up the
path from the bush. Then a shout from the hill behind the barn
attracted everyone's attention, and Long Lauchie's whole household
appeared trooping down the slope; Long Lauchie himself plodding
joyfully at the tail of the procession, full of bewildering prophecies
and analogies, in which there was something about Lake Simcoe's being
the Red Sea, and the Oa, Mount Pisgah.
It was well that Mary Sandy merited her mistress's oft-repeated
declaration that she was "jist the smartest, tidiest girl in the Oa,
indeed." The multitude had to be fed, in accordance with the laws of
Canadian hospitality, which alter not, no matter what the circumstances
may be, and without Kirsty's and Mary Lauchie's help even Mrs.
MacDonald's paragon might have found herself inadequate.
Big Malcolm and his wife were quite helpless with excess of happiness.
The latter moved about in a happy daze, making ineffectual efforts to
assist her friends, picking up articles and putting them down again in
a haphazard fashion.
At last Kirsty declared that they must all clear out and let her do
some work. Yes, and Mrs. Malcolm was to go too, for how could she be
of any use with a big gomeril like Scotty clattering after her every
step, as if he was a bairn, and mostly with Big Malcolm and Rory's wee
Callum trailing behind. It was enough to put a body fair daft.
Thus banished, Scotty laughingly followed his grandmother out of doors.
He was well pleased, for he was longing to get a word with her alone.
He knew that her tender eyes had long ago read his heart's secret, and
if she had any news for him she would surely give it without asking.
There was a new stone milk-house a few yards from the door, built since
his departure; and he must needs see it, Granny said. So she took him
with her when she went for a jug of buttermilk for the guests. And
when he had admired the place and the buttermilk had been procured,
they stood in the cool, sweet dampness, and Granny told him how all the
friends had asked for him so often. The minister, indeed, came up
several times just to inquire if they had had a letter, and Store
Thompson's wife had said that whenever the Captain himself came to the
Glen he always asked for him. Then she went to the farther end of the
little chamber and commenced a diligent search for something that was
not there, and, with her back turned to him, remarked with elaborate
carelessness that the Captain's family were expected at the Grange any
day now. The Captain had been away nearly all the time since he lost
the election, he had been that disappointed, poor body. They had spent
the last winter in Toronto. The wee Isabel hadn't been jist very well
all winter, Kirsty had said, and the aunt had wanted to take her to the
seashore, but she had said that nothing but the Oro air would do her
any good, and Kirsty was expecting her some of these days.
Scotty drew a deep breath. She was coming back then! She would be at
the Grange, she might even come to Kirsty's! And then Kirsty herself
darted in and snatched the pitcher of buttermilk from Granny's hands
and disappeared as quickly. Neither of them noticed her, for Scotty
was in a rosy but hopeless dream, and Granny was patting him lovingly
upon the arm in expression of the sympathy she dared not speak. There
was silence for a moment, the old woman still caressing him tenderly.
"Eh, it would be the Lord would be bringing you back to me, _m' eudail
bheg_," she said at last. "He would be good to Malcolm and me in our
old age, for you would jist be our Benjamin, whatever. And has it been
well with Granny's boy all this weary time?" she added in a whisper.
Scotty put his hands upon her shoulders and looked long into her loving
eyes.
"Granny," he whispered, "do you remember the first day I went to
school, and how I came through the swamp alone on the way home."
"Eh, the wee man it was! And how would I be forgetting, indeed, for it
would be the first time you would be leaving me!"
"And do you remember what I found a comfort then? The swamp was so
lonely it frightened me, and I thought it must be like the valley of
the shadow of death; so I said over the Shepherd's Psalm, because you
had taught it to me and I knew it must be good, and I wasn't afraid any
more. And now I've been away from you again, Granny, in the valley of
the shadow of death, yes, and worse than death often, but--the rod and
the staff were always with me."
The tears were running down the old wrinkled face, happy tears, for
Granny had feared often for her boy; not so much the temporal ills; the
arrow that flieth by day was not to her so dangerous as the "secret
fear." But her fears had been happily disappointed, he had had the
great Keeper with him, and one more joy was added to her deep content.
The celebration at Big Malcolm's lasted half the night, and before it
had ended Scotty found he had yet one more draught to drink from his
cup of happiness. The assembly was sitting round him breathless as he
related the many incidents of his journey, when Weaver Jimmie, who was
sitting in the doorway to allow his feet to hang in the greater freedom
of outdoors, suddenly interrupted with an exclamation, "Losh keep us,
is yon the Schoolmaster come back?" Scotty came to the doorway with a
spring and met the outstretched hands of his friend. Monteith had
heard the boys were expected and had journeyed all the way from Barbay,
where he now resided, to bid his pupil welcome. Scotty was speechless
over this last greeting, for in the long warm handshake of his old
friend there was not the smallest hint of a past estrangement.
XVII
THE PROMISED LAND
Love and Hope and Truth and Duty
Guide the upward striving soul,
Still evolving higher beauty
As the ages onward roll.
--AGNES MAULE MACHAR.
The next day Scotty found that he was not yet through with his
lionising. With the morning sun up came Dan from the Flats with the
news that "the boys" were to meet at Store Thompson's that evening, and
they must both go down and show themselves. At first Scotty was for
refusing, but his grandfather decided for him. Big Malcolm, who was no
better at dissembling than his wife, suddenly remembered that he had
urgent reasons for going into the Glen that evening and promised that
he would bring his grandson with him.
So there was nothing for Scotty to do, as Monteith, who was still with
him, explained, but to be a real lion and roar properly. Granny made
them an early tea and, the schoolmaster accompanying them, they drove
off in the old buckboard.
On the way Big Malcolm regaled the two exiles with tales of the great
events that had transpired since their absence. The most important one
related to Store Thompson's latest achievement in the philological
field. This time he had routed completely young Mike Murphy. Mike had
never received anything through the post office in his life, but never
a day passed but he poked his head in at the little wicket and demanded
in a loud voice, "Anythin' for Murphy the day?" Store Thompson had
endured the youth's uncouthness with his usual serenity, but one day
Mike asked twice at the wicket. That was once too often, and Store
Thompson fell back on his reserve forces. "Murphy?" he queried.
"Young man, ye're jist ambeeguous like, aye, ye're jist ambeeguous."
Mike had never inquired for letters since. He retired in a rage, under
the impression that Store Thompson had called him some insulting name,
but, like many another brave man, overawed by the mystery of the
unknown. Ever since, Store Thompson had been free from his tormentor
and the young man was known between the Oa and the Flats as "Ambiguous
Mike." Big Malcolm chuckled audibly and jerked the lines in delight
over the remembrance of his old friend's victory.
The way seemed very short to Scotty, there was so much of interest to
see. Soon they left the Highlands and began to descend into the Glen,
and he found his eyes growing misty again as they dwelt on the winding
white road, the silver curves of the river between the faint green of
the hills, and the cosy homesteads nestled in the budding orchards.
The place was so little changed in the two years he could almost
believe he had never left it. He noticed only one radical difference.
Pete Nash's establishment had disappeared. The tavern had not been
able to withstand the united progress of commerce and righteousness;
Mr. Cameron's advent had heralded its downfall, and the toot of the
railway train through Oro had sounded its death knell.
Big Malcolm had not finished dilating upon the blessing its departure
had been to the community, when they reached the post office. A crowd
stood collected about it, eager but quiet. They hid their concern in
the true rural fashion and stood leaning against every available
support with supreme indifference, shoulders high, hands in pockets,
caps on one side. Store Thompson was more ceremonious. Before Scotty
could alight, out he came with hands outstretched in greeting. He had
prepared an elaborate speech of welcome, adorned with all the available
polysyllables in the dictionary; but, when he saw Scotty's familiar
face, his eyes shining with the joy of his home-coming, and Big
Malcolm, erect and full of fire as though he had suddenly dropped
twenty years of his life, his heart got the better of his head and he
could only shake the voyageur's hand again and again and say:
"Aye, ye're home again. Aye, ye've jist come home, like!"
And then out bustled Store Thompson's wife, who was as blithe and brisk
as she had been twenty years before, and she had no difficulty in
kissing Scotty this time, though she had to stand on tip-toe to do it.
And at last the crowd flung off its lethargy and one by one came
forward in greeting. Dan had already arrived and was resplendent amid
the whole population of the Flats; and not the Flats only, for such a
cosmopolitan crowd had not been seen in the Glen since the old days of
the fights. There were all the Murphys and the Caldwells and, of
course, every MacDonald from far and near. And Hash Tucker had brought
over a goodly representation of the Tenth to do honour to his old
schoolmates. Scotty had got through only half the hand shakes when the
minister came up from the manse to welcome the boys and tell them they
had made him proud of Canada.
Scotty found, somewhat to the dismay of his reticent soul, that Dan had
been spreading abroad the story of his gallant rescue of an English
officer against overwhelming odds, and the ovation he received was
particularly trying.
"It's a pity you couldn't have kept your long, Irish tongue still for a
day!" he grumbled, and Dan laughed and thumped him soundly upon the
chest for an ungrateful and stony-hearted old Scotchman.
The two were standing, the centre of a breathless ring, while Dan, with
true Irish fluency, described the fight at Kirbekan, when the sound of
rapidly approaching wheels partly diverted the attention of the
audience.
"Eh, yon must be the Captain an' his family jist gettin' home," said
Store Thompson, turning away to welcome the new arrivals. For, since
the departure of the tavern, Store Thompson was public host in the
Glen. Scotty heard and felt his heart leap into his mouth. Would she
be there?
The wheels were stopping. "That'll be his son most like, the young
man," he heard someone say above the buzzing in his ears. "He's been
away in the wars."
Captain Herbert's voice came next, "No, thank you, James, not to-night;
we just want to water the horses. But what's all this? You haven't
lapsed into the old warlike days in my absence, I hope?"
And then Scotty shoved Dan aside and looked up. Yes, there she was,
and not at all pale and ill as his heart had feared, but smiling and
flushed like a wild rose. And her eyes were looking a welcome straight
into his, over the heads of the people; such a welcome as not all the
love of his own kin had been able to give.
And the next instant a marvellous thing happened, a thing that
astounded all the spectators and left them amazed and gaping. For the
pale young man at Captain Herbert's side suddenly leaped to his feet as
though he had gone mad. He gave a shout, "_Big Scalper!_" and the same
moment he had cleared the carriage wheels and several people's heads
and had flung himself upon Scotty and delivered him a blow that sent
him staggering back against the verandah. And instead of resenting
such outrageous treatment, as any right-minded descendant of the
Fighting MacDonalds should, Scotty submitted very meekly. In a
laughing, half-ashamed manner he allowed himself to be pounded and
shaken, and when his assailant had almost wrung his hands off, even
permitted himself to be dragged up to the carriage wheels.
"Father!" cried the young man, his voice high with excitement, "it's
the very fellow himself! It's Big Scalper!"
At that Dan Murphy uttered a yell that made the topmost pine on the Oro
banks ring.
"It's the English spalpeen!" he roared to the dumbfounded crowd. "It's
the cratur Scotty pulled out o' the black divils in Agypt. Oh, hooray!"
It seemed as if all the township of Oro joined him in one mighty shout.
Some said afterwards that even Store Thompson cheered, though most
people believed that the excitement of the moment gave birth to that
wild rumour. But certain it is that an equally wonderful thing
happened, for at the sound of the uproar the minister turned back from
the manse gate, and when he was made aware of the cause, he actually
waved his hat in the air and made everyone give three more cheers.
And such a prodigious handshaking ensued that Scotty was almost
overcome. Captain Herbert acted as if he could never let him go; and
there was Store Thompson and the minister and half the crowd to shake
hands with again, and it seemed to Scotty that every second man was the
young Egyptian officer, and he found to his amusement that even that
absurd Dan was greeting him as though they had not met for years!
But he was only half-conscious of it all, only half realised what it
meant even when Miss Herbert took both his hands in hers and whispered
softly: "God bless you, my boy." For he could see nothing but Isabel's
face and her blue eyes swimming in happy tears, and felt only her
clinging hands as she whispered brokenly: "Oh, Scotty, isn't it
wonderful, wonderful?" And Scotty knew that even she did not quite
realise just how wonderful it was.
Then, amid all the expressions of good will, Big Malcolm stepped
forward and held out his hand to Captain Herbert. It was grasped
warmly and the old man felt, with a great uplifting of his spirit, that
his last forgiveness was accomplished and his last feud buried.
It was very late that night when the company broke up and Scotty found
himself at home once more. Monteith had returned with him, and as he
took his leave the young man accompanied him to the gate.
"I wanted a chance to tell you, before I go," he said, as they paused
in the moonlight, "that you were right, after all, Ralph."
"In giving up?" asked Scotty eagerly. "Is it because of what you saw
this afternoon?"
"No; the reward of a right act doesn't always come so suddenly; but
because I have learned something since you went away, something that
your grandmother taught me up there under the Silver Maple. I know now
that when a man has once realised what the Great Sacrifice means he
cannot choose his own way."
And Scotty went up to his old bed in the loft and lay listening to the
branches of the Silver Maple softly caressing the roof, unable to sleep
for joy and thankfulness.
The days that followed were very busy ones. Scotty was often at the
Grange; not altogether because inclination turned his feet thither, but
because there was much business to settle. Lieutenant Herbert wanted
to return soon to England, and he would not leave until his new friend
had received due restitution and more. Scotty wanted nothing; the look
in Isabel's eyes was enough, but Harold would not listen. No, he must
have the Grange and all that pertained to it, he declared; for the
Captain and his sister had long thought of going back to England to end
their days. "So," he concluded, "when you are through that college
course, which it appears you must take, you and Bluebell can settle
down here to farming; and good luck go with you, because I don't envy
you your lot!"
But Scotty and Isabel cared very little whether they were envied or
not. Their own happiness was sufficient.
And so Ralph Stanwell came into his inheritance at last, and by the
right road, the road of truth and equity, which, though it may often
descend by the way of the cross, is sure and straight and leadeth unto
life eternal.
* * * * *
The day before he left to take up his studies in the city, Scotty went
down to the Grange and brought Isabel up, ostensibly to spend the day
with Kirsty, but really because they wanted to say farewell among their
old haunts. The girl had spent the afternoon at Big Malcolm's and as
evening fell and Scotty prepared to take her home, they went round to
the side of the house and sat for a few moments under the Silver Maple.
Lake Oro was a sea of gems flashing between the dusky points of the fir
trees. The hilltops were flushed with rose, the valleys steeped in
purple, and the vesper sparrows filled the golden twilight with their
music.
"Scotty," said the girl softly, "I've been reminded all day of the
psalm Granny Malcolm taught us here--'Thou hast beset me behind and
before and hast laid Thine Hand upon me!'"
And Scotty, whose mind held the vivid remembrance of a great
temptation, to which he had almost yielded and from which he had been
saved that wonderful night in the wilderness, added: "'Such knowledge
is too wonderful for me. It is high. I cannot attain unto it.'"
And a little breeze, dancing up from the golden bosom of Lake Oro,
tossed the green canopy above their heads and showed that every dark
emerald leaf had its silver lining.
THE END