A CROFTERS' COMMISSION.
One morning Mary Stanley and her companion had been away on some distant
errand, and when on their return they came to the summit of the hill
overlooking the bay, Mary paused for a moment to take in the
prospect--the wide, grey, wind-swept plain of the sea, the long
headlands, and the lonely Heimra Island out in the west. But Kaethchen
did not cease her discourse--in which she was endeavouring to account
for the comparative failure, so far, of her friend's fine philanthropic
schemes.
"The truth is, Mamie," said she, "what has disappointed you here has
been the prevalence of hard facts--very hard facts--facts as hard as the
rocks on which the poor people try to live. You wanted to play the part
of Lady Bountiful; and you yourself are just full of enthusiasm, and
generous emotion, and ideals of duty and self-sacrifice,
and--and--romanticism generally, if I may say so. And for all these
qualities you find no exercise, no outlet. I can imagine you in very
different circumstances--in London, perhaps, or in some English village:
I can imagine your going into a squalid room where there is a poor widow
by the bedside of her dying boy; and the Lady Bountiful brings little
comforts for the sick child, and words of kindness and consolation for
the mother; and the poor woman looks on you as an angel, and would kiss
the hem of your gown; and it's all very pretty and touching. But, you
see," continued the practical Kaethchen, "how you are baffled and
thwarted in this obdurate place; for there isn't a single case of
illness in the whole district--not one--which is no doubt owing to the
valuable antiseptic properties of peat-smoke!"
"Oh, well," said Mary, cheerfully, as they went on again. "I can put up
with being disappointed on that score--and the longer the better. But,
Kaethchen, when you said there was nothing but hard facts about here--no
pretty sentiment and sympathy--you weren't keeping your eyes open. Look
down there at the bridge; what is that if not pretty sentiment?--two
lovers talking--why, it is quite a charming picture!--and isn't there
some rustic custom of pledging troth over a running stream?"
Her face suddenly grew grave; and Kaethchen, also regarding those two
figures, was struck by the same surmise.
"It is Mr. Ross, Mamie!" she exclaimed, in an undertone--though they
were still a long way off.
Mary said nothing. She walked on calmly and indifferently, sometimes
looking up to the hills, sometimes looking out to Heimra Island and the
sea. It was Kaethchen, keeping her eyes covertly on those two figures
by the bridge, who observed that the girl suddenly separated herself
from her companion, and disappeared into the woods by the side of the
Garra. As for Donald Ross, he made no sign of going away: on the
contrary, he remained idling by the rude stone parapet, occasionally
looking into the water underneath. And he must have known that he was
intercepting the two ladies from Lochgarra House--there was no escape
for them.
Mary maintained a perfect self-possession; and when they came up to him
she was for passing with a little bow of recognition; but he spoke.
"I have a small petition to put before you," said he, with a smile
(Kaethchen thought that, though he looked extremely handsome, this
pleasant and familiar smile was in the circumstances something of an
impertinence).
"Indeed," said Mary--and she waited.
"From a very humble petitioner," he continued (and Kaethchen began to
consider him a most unabashed young man--so easily and lightly he
spoke), "one who has no English, and she has asked me to interfere and
tell you all about her case. She was talking to me just now; but when
she caught sight of you she fled off into the woods, like a hare."
"Why?" said Mary, coldly.
"Because she is afraid of you," said he. "She thinks you are a friend of
the _Troich Bheag Dhearg_--the Little Red Dwarf--as they call Mr. Purdie
about here. And that is quite enough to frighten Anna----"
"Anna?" said Mary. "Do you mean Anna Chlannach--the half-witted
girl?"--and as she guessed the simple and harmless truth an
indescribable confusion appeared on her forehead and in the
self-consciousness of her eyes.
"Yes," said he, apparently not noticing. "Anna says that you spoke to
her once; but she has no English, and could not tell you anything; and
she saw Purdie with you, and ran away. So much I made out, though she
talks rather wildly, and mysteriously as well."
"Oh, but Mr. Ross," said Mary, with some eagerness, "I wish you would
tell Anna Chlannach that she has no reason to be afraid of me--surely
not! Why, she was the first creature in the place who seemed a little
friendly. Will you tell her I will do everything for her I can; and that
she must come and see me; and there will be no fear of her meeting Mr.
Purdie; and Barbara can be the interpreter between us? Will you tell her
that? Could you find her now?"
"There's no one in this neighbourhood who could find Anna Chlannach if
she wants to be hidden," he said, with a bit of a laugh that showed
beautiful teeth--as Kaethchen remarked. "But I shall come across her
some other time, and of course, if you grant her petition, she must go
to you and thank you."
"What is her petition?" said Mary, who had recovered from her momentary
confusion, and was now prepared to be entirely bland and
magnanimous--which, indeed, was her natural mood.
"Well," said he, "Purdie--Mr. Purdie--has been threatening to have her
shut up in some asylum for imbeciles--so they say---and Anna is in a
great state about the possibility of her being taken away from among the
people she knows. I don't think it is true, myself; indeed I doubt
whether he could do anything of the kind, without the consent of her
relatives, and she has got none now; but I am not quite sure what the
law is; anyhow, what I imagine to be the case is simply that Mr. Purdie
has been making use of these threats to spite the people with whom Anna
Chlannach is a favourite. For she is a general favourite--there is no
harm in the girl----"
"Why, so Barbara said!" Mary exclaimed.
"It is quite true that she is rather useless about the place," Donald
Ross went on. "Sometimes they have tried her with a bit of herding; but
then, if she saw a boat out at sea, she would imagine her mother was
coming back, and she would go away down to the shore to meet her, and
spend her time in gathering white shells, that she thinks is money, to
give to her mother. Well, you see, that is awkward. You couldn't leave
sheep or cows under Anna's care without asking somebody to keep an eye
on Anna herself. The truth is, she is useless. But there's no harm in
the lass; and the people are fond of her; there's always a bit of food,
or a corner for her to sleep in; so that she's not a cost to anyone
except to those that are willing to pay it--a mere trifle--and in any
case it does not come out of Mr. Purdie's pocket----"
"She shall not be shut up in any asylum, if I have any say in the
matter!" Mary interposed, with a touch of indignation.
"I asked her to stay and appeal to yourself," he continued. "But she
was frightened of you----"
"Yes," said Mary, "everyone is frightened of me--or set against me--in
this place!"
"There is another thing I should mention," he proceeded--ignoring this
taunt, if it was meant as a taunt; "the young girls and lads about here
are not very considerate if there's any fun going on; and they've heard
of this proposal of Purdie's; and so they amuse themselves by telling
Anna Chlannach that she is going to be taken away and shut up in an
asylum, and the poor girl is dreadfully frightened. But if you can
assure her that you will not allow Purdie to do any such thing----"
"Well, of course I will, if you will only bring her to me!" said Mary,
impetuously. "Why haven't you brought her to me before?"
He hesitated. Then he said--
"I am very much obliged to you. I will tell Anna Chlannach the first
time I see her. Good morning, Miss Stanley!"
But Mary would not have that; she said boldly--
"Are you not going down to the village?--won't you walk with us?"
He could hardly refuse the invitation; and as they went on towards the
little township, what she was saying in her heart was this--'Here, you
people, all of you, if you are at your cottage doors or working on your
crofts, don't you see this now, that Mr. Ross of Heimra is walking with
me, with all the world to witness? Do you understand what that means?
It is true my uncle drained Loch Heimra and tore down Castle Heimra into
a heap of ruins; and the Rosses of Heimra, and you also, may have had
reason to hate the name of Stanley; But look at this--look at Young
Donald walking with me--in a kind of a way proclaiming himself my
friend--and consider what that means. A feud? There is no feud if he
and I say there shall be none. I cannot restore Castle Heimra, but it
is within his power to forgive and to forget.'
That is what she was somewhat proudly saying to herself as they walked
into the village--past the smithy--past the weaver's cottage--past the
school-house--past the post-office--past the inn and its dependencies;
and she hoped that everyone would see, and reflect. But of course she
could not speak in that fashion to Donald Ross.
"You might have told me about Anna Chlannach before," she said.
"I did not like to interfere," he made answer.
"You seem very sensitive on that point!" she retorted.
"Well, it is natural," he said, with something of reserve; and
instinctively she felt that she could go no further in that direction.
"Are you remaining long on the mainland at present?" she asked, in an
ordinary kind of way.
"Until this afternoon only: I shall go back to Heimra after the
mail-cart has come in."
"It must be very lonely out there," she said--glancing towards the
remote island among the grey and driven seas.
"It is lonely--now," he said.
And then she hesitated. For he had never spoken to her of his
circumstances in any way whatever; he had always been so distant and
respectful; and she hardly knew whether she might venture to betray any
interest. But at length she said--
"I can very well understand that there must be a charm in living all by
one's self in a lonely island like that--for a time, at least--and
yet--yet--it does seem like throwing away one's opportunities. I think
I should want some definite occupation--among my fellow creatures."
"Oh, yes, no doubt," said he, in no wise taking her timorous suggestion
as a reproach. "In my own case, I could not leave the island so long as
my mother was alive; I never even thought of such a thing; so that being
shut up in Eilean Heimra was not in the least irksome to me. Not in the
least. She and I were sufficient companions for each other--anywhere.
But now it is different. Now I am free to look about. And I am reading
up for the Bar as a preliminary step."
"Oh, indeed?" said she. "Do you mean to practise as a lawyer?"
"No, I think not," he made reply; and now Kaethchen was indeed listening
with interest--more interest than she usually displayed over rents and
drains and sheriff's decrees. "But being a barrister is a necessary
qualification for a good many appointments; and if I were once called to
the Bar I might perhaps get some sort of post in one of the colonies."
"In one of the colonies?" Mary repeated; "and leave Eilean Heimra for
ever?"
"Well, I don't know about that," said he, absently. "At all events, I
should not like to part with the island--I mean, I should not like to
sell it. It is the last little bit of a foothold; and the name has been
in our family for a long while; and--and there are other associations.
No; rather than sell the bit of an island, I think I should be content
to remain a prisoner there for the rest of my life. However, all that
is in the air at present," he continued more lightly. "The main thing
is that I am not quite so lonely out at Eilean Heimra as you might
imagine--I have my books for companions any way."
"Then you are very busy?" she said, thoughtfully. "I must not say I am
sorry; and yet I was going to ask you----"
"I should be very busy indeed," said he, "if I could not find time to do
anything for you that you wished me to do." (And here Kaethchen said
proudly to herself: 'Well, Mamie, and what do you think of that as a
speech for a Highlander?')
"Ah, but this is something rather serious," said she. "The fact is, I
want to form a little private commission--a commission among
ourselves--for the resettlement of the whole estate. I want every
crofter's case fully investigated; every grievance, if he has any,
inquired into; all the rents overhauled and reduced to what is quite
easy and practicable and just; and a percentage of the arrears--perhaps
all the arrears--cut off, if it is found desirable. I want to be able
to say: 'There, now, I have done what is fair on my side: are you going
to do what is fair on yours?' And I have got Mr. Watson to consent to
give up the pasturage of Meall-na-Cruagan; and that must be valued and
taken off his rent; and then when the pasturage is divided among the
Cruagan crofters--oh, well, perhaps I shan't ask them for anything!"
"You seem to wish to act very generously by them," said he, with a grave
simplicity.
"Oh, I tell you I have plenty of schemes!" she said, half laughing at
her own enthusiasm. "But I get no sympathy--no encouragement. There is
Miss Glendinning, who simply sits and mocks----"
"Mamie, how can you say such things!" Kaethchen protested--for what
would this handsome young gentleman from Heimra think of her?
"I have two new hand-looms coming next week," Mary continued; "and I am
going to send to the Inverness Exhibition, and to Dudley House, if there
is another bazaar held there; and I am going to give local prizes, too;
and I may get over some of the Harris people to show them the best dyes,
and so forth. But all that will take time; and in the meanwhile I am
chiefly anxious to put myself right with the tenants by means of this
commission and a complete revision of the rents. A commission they can
trust--formed of people they know----"
"They will be ill to please if they don't meet you half way--and
gladly," said young Ross.
Mary Stanley's eyes shone with pleasure at these hopeful words: she had
not met with much encouragement hitherto.
"Does Mr. Watson know Gaelic?" was her next question.
"In a kind of a way, I should imagine," he said. "He is a south
countryman; but I should think he knew as much Gaelic as was necessary
for his business."
"And to talk to the people about general things--about their crops--and
their rents?" she asked again.
"In a kind of a way he might."
"But you--you know Gaelic very well?" she said.
"I think I may fairly say that I do," he confessed frankly enough.
"Then," said she, "if you could find the time, would not that be
sufficient to form a commission--Mr. Watson, and you, and I? There would
be no kind of conflicting interests; and we should all want to do what
was equitable and right by the people."
"Oh," said he, in a wondering sort of way, "there would be only these
three--Mr. Watson, yourself, and I?"
"Mr. Purdie," said she, "would simply be a kind of clerk----"
And instantly his face changed.
"Mr. Purdie," said he, "is he coming to take part in it?"
"Only as a kind of clerk," she said quickly. "He would merely register
our decisions. And of course he knows the people and all the
circumstances; he could give us what information we wanted, and we could
form our own judgment."
But there was no return to his face of that sympathetic interest that
she had read there for a brief moment or two. His manner had entirely
altered; and as they were now close to Lochgarra House, he had to take
his leave.
"As far as I am concerned, Miss Stanley," said he, "I would rather leave
this resettlement in Mr. Purdie's hands. Intermeddlers only make
mischief, and get little thanks for their pains."
She was disappointed and hurt; and yet too proud to appeal further. He
bade them good-bye--a little coldly, as Kaethchen thought--and left; and
Mary Stanley and her friend went into the house. All that Mary said
was--
"Well, we must do the best we can, Mr. Watson, Mr. Purdie, and myself.
I don't suppose Mr. Watson has any reason to be stiff-necked, and
malevolent, and revengeful."
A couple of days thereafter Mr. Purdie arrived; and the Little Red Dwarf
appeared to bear with much equanimity the rating that Miss Stanley
administered to him over his action in the James Macdonald case.
"Oh, ay," said he, "Macdonald will find out now who is master--the law,
or himself. He is the most ill-condeetioned man in the whole
district--an ill-condeetioned, thrawn, contentious rascal, and the worst
example possible for his neighbours; but he'll find out now; he'll find
out that the law is not to be defied with impunity----"
"What do you mean?" said she. "I told you to stop all proceedings."
"I cannot stop the Procurator-Fiscal," said the Troich Bheag Dhearg,
grimly, "when he institutes a prosecution for deforcement of the
sheriff's officer."
"But I got the sheriff's officer to go away peaceably," said she; "and I
told him that the case would be inquired into."
"Just that," replied Mr. Purdie, with a certain self-assurance. "But it
was not the business of the sheriff's officer to inquire into the case
at all. He had merely to execute the sheriff's warrant; and in doing
that, as he now declares, he was deforced. Macdonald will find out
whether he can set the law at defiance--even with that mischief-making
ne'er-do-weel Donald Ross at his elbow egging him on."
"Mr. Ross did not egg him on!" said Mary Stanley, indignantly; "for I
was there, and saw the whole transaction. Mr. Ross interfered for the
sake of peace, or there would have been murder done."
"Ay? and I wonder what right has Mr. Ross to interfere wi' the Lochgarra
tenants!" said Mr. Purdie, rather scornfully--but with an angry light
twinkling in his small blue eyes.
"Because I asked him," said Mary, drawing herself up. "And I will ask
him again, when it suits me."
Mr. Purdie said nothing. His heavily down-drawn mouth was more than
usually dogged in expression; and it was with difficulty Mary extracted
from him the information that the punishment the sheriff would most
likely inflict on Macdonald was a fine of forty shillings, with the
alternative of three weeks' imprisonment.
"I will pay the fine," said she, promptly. "I did not authorise you to
have that man turned out of his croft; and I won't have anyone turned
out until I have a thorough investigation made, and the rents revised,
and the arrears cancelled."
But when she proceeded to place before him the comprehensive project she
had formed--to carry out which he had been summoned from Inverness--the
factor abandoned his obstinate attitude, and became almost plaintive.
"Ye'll ruin the estate, Miss Stanley; and ye'll not make these people
one whit more contented. Have I not had experience of them, years and
years before you ever came to the place? And now that the Land League
is their god, nothing will satisfy them but getting crofts and farms,
arable land and pasture, all rent free, and the landlords taking the
first train for the South. The poor, deluded craytures--if it was not
for their spite and ill-will--one could almost peety them; for what
would be the advantage to them of a lot of useless land, with no stock
to put on it? But maybe they expect to have the stock bought and given
to them as well?--I would not wonder! There's they scoundrels in the
newspapers, that do not know the difference between a barn-door and a
peat-stack, they've filled the heads o' the ignorant craytures with all
kinds of nonsense, and they would have the deer-forests divided up--the
deer-forests!--they might as well try to plough, sow, and reap the
Atlantic--"
"All that does not concern me," she said, interrupting him without
scruple. "What does concern me is to have myself put right, in the
first place. That is to say, I wish to have rents fixed that the people
can pay without getting into arrears--just rents, so that they can have
no right to complain."
"Ay, and ye'll go on remitting this and remitting that," said the
factor; "and if ye remitted everything they would still grumble! I tell
ye, Miss Stanley, I've had experience; and it's not the way to treat
these people. The more ye give them, the more they'll ask. What you
consider justice, they will consider weakness; they will expect more and
more; and complain if they do not get it. I'm telling ye the truth,
Miss Stanley, about these idle, and ill-willed, and ill-thrawn
craytures: what you propose is no the way to deal wi' them at all----"
"But I propose to take that way none the less," said Mary. And
Kaethchen, sitting there, and listening, and regarding the Troich Bheag
Dhearg, said to herself: 'My good friend, you have tremendous shoulders,
and a powerful mouth, and suspicious and vindictive eyes; but you don't
in the least know with whom you have to do. Your obstinacy won't
answer; and if you are discreet, you will allow it to subside.'
"I have done my best for the estate," he said, with some stiffness.
"Yes," said Mary, "no doubt. But then the result that has been arrived
at is not quite satisfactory--according to modern notions. Perhaps the
old way was the best; but I am going to try the new--and I suppose I can
do what I like with my own, as the saying is. And so, Mr. Purdie, I wish
you to go out to-morrow morning and call on Mr. Watson, and give him my
compliments--oh, no," she said, interrupting herself: "on second
thoughts I will drive out to Craiglarig myself--for it is a great favour
I have to ask. Will you dine with us this evening, Mr. Purdie?"
"I thank ye, but I hope ye'll excuse me," said the factor. "I have some
various things to look into, and I'll just give the evening to them at
the inn."
"Then we shall see you in the morning"--and therewithal the Little Red
Dwarf took his departure.
Now to tell the truth, when the sheep-farmer of Craiglarig was asked to
assist in this scheme, he did not express himself very hopefully as to
the issue; but he was a good-natured man; and he said he would place as
much of his time at Miss Stanley's disposal as he reasonably could. And
so they set to work to revalue the crofts. No doubt the composition of
this amateur court might have been impugned; for it consisted of the
owner of the estate, her factor, and her chief tenant; but then again
Mary constituted herself, from the very outset, the champion of the
occupants of the smaller holdings, Mr. Purdie took the side of the
landlords, while Mr. Watson, apart from his services as interpreter,
maintained a benevolent neutrality. It was slow and not inspiriting
work; for the crofters did not seem to believe that any amelioration of
their condition was really meant; they were too afraid to speak, or too
sullen to speak; and when they did speak, in many cases their demands
were preposterous. But Mary stuck to her task.
"I must put myself right, to begin with," she said, as she had said all
along. "Thereafter we will see."
And sometimes she would look out towards Heimra Island; and there was a
kind of reproach in her heart. How much easier would all this have been
for them, if only young Ross had consented to put aside for the moment
that fierce internecine feud between him and the factor! Was Mr.
Purdie, she asked herself, the sort of man that Donald Ross of Heimra
should raise to the rank of being his enemy? However, the days passed,
and there was no sign--no glimmer of the white sails of the _Sirene_
coming away from the distant shores--no mention of the young master
having been seen anywhere on the mainland.
"I warrant," said Mr. Purdie, when some remark chanced to be made, "I
warrant I can tell where that cheat-the-gallows is off to--away to
France for more o' that smuggled brandy so that he can spend his days
and nights in drunkenness and debauchery!"
"You forget, Mr. Purdie," said Kaethchen, with something very nearly
approaching disdain, "that we have made the acquaintance of Mr. Ross,
and know something of himself and his habits."
"Do ye?" he said, turning upon her. "I tell ye, ye do not! And a good
thing ye do not! A smooth-tongued hypocrite--specious--sly--it is well
for ye that ye are ignorant of what that poaching, mischief-making
dare-devil really is; but ye'll find out in time--ye'll find out in
time."
And indeed it was not until the self-appointed commission had done its
work, and Mr. Purdie had gone away to the south again, that young Ross
of Heimra reappeared: he said he had heard of what had been arranged;
and he thought Miss Stanley had been most generous. This casual
encounter took place just as Mary and Kate Glendinning were nearing
Lochgarra House; and when they had gone inside, Kaethchen said--
"Well, I don't know what has come over you, Mamie. You used always to
be so self-possessed--to seem as if you were conferring a favour by
merely looking at anyone. And now, when you stand for a few minutes
talking to Mr. Ross, you are quite nervous and shamefaced--and
apparently anxious for the smallest sign of approval----"
"You have far too much imagination, Kaethchen," said Mary, as she went
off to her own room.
And then again, that same night, Kaethchen was at one of the windows,
looking out. She could not distinguish anything, for it was quite dark;
she could only hear the wind howling in from the sea.
"Do you know where you should be at this moment, Mamie?" she said. "You
ought to be going up the grand staircase of some great opera-house--your
cloak of crimson velvet, white-furred--the diamonds in your hair shining
through your lace hood--and you should have at least three gentlemen to
escort you to your box, carrying opera-glasses, and flowers. That's
more like you. And yet here you banish yourself away to this
out-of-the-world place--you seek for no amusement--you busy yourself all
day about peats, and drains, and seed-potatoes--and the highest reward
you set before yourself is to get a half-hearted 'Thank you' from a
sulky crofter----"
"Kaethchen," said Mary, "I would advise you to read the third chapter of
the General Epistle of James."
"Ah, well," said Kaethchen--and she was not deeply offended by that hint
about the bridling of the tongue--"wait till your brother and Mr. Frank
Meredyth come up--and you'll find them saying the same thing.
Philanthropy is all very well; but you need not make yourself a white
slave." And then she turned to the black window again, and to her
visions. "There's one thing, Mamie: I wish Mr. Ross could see you going
up that grand staircase."