THE HALFLIN'S MESSAGE.
I mind that there was a good back-end that year, as we say, with plenty
of keep for the beasts, and the stacks under thatch of sprits by the
end of September, and I would be standing in the stackyard as a man
will, just pleased to be seeing things as they were, and swithering if
I should be taking a step to the Quay Inn, when the halflin lad from
Bryde's place came up to me.
"He is not yonder," said he, in a daft-like way. "He will not be in
his own place any more."
And then I got at him with the questions.
"The mother will be sitting all day and not greeting terrible," says
he, "and Betty will be oching and seching like a daith in the house;
and I came to be telling you--and he will have the thin sword with him."
And the lad lisped and boggled at the English, till I shook the Gaelic
into him--and there was the story.
It would be two nights ago that Bryde McBride came into the loft where
the halflin was sleeping, and bade him dress.
"He would be all in his good claes," said the lad, "and the sword on
him," and he told me how the two of them had carried a kist through the
hill and down behind the Big House--"there would still be a light in
the young leddy's chamber," for Bryde McBride had stood looking at it,
and talking in the Gaelic. "And," said the lad, looking over his
shoulder half fearfully, "he said, 'If ever there is a word comes out
of your mouth about this, Homish, I will be ramming three feet o' blue
steel through your gizzard,' and we would be carrying the kist down to
the herrin' slap (Bealach an agadan) and to the shore. There was a
skiff lying there all quiet and three men waiting, and when we would be
among them they took the kist, and wan of the sailors wass saying they
would be in Fowey soon, but the master turned on me, and he had money
for me.
"'You will be minding the place until I come back to you,' he said, 'or
I'll reive the skin from you for a bridle,' and he made me go away from
the rocks and to be going back, but I lay among the trees, and I would
be seeing the men put the kist on board, and then they rowed away with
the master sitting at the stern and looking back, for I would be seeing
his face white in the moon," and at that the poor lad was so near the
greetin' that I took him to the kitchen for a meal of meat, and it all
came plain to me as I sat there among the serving bodies and the dogs.
I minded the way the boy had taken the sword from me, as he lay in his
bed. "This will be clearing the way," he had said, and now he would be
started to the clearing, and then there was Margaret.
"You will not be bringing her here again, for I am not strong enough
lying here."
That would be at the time he would be lying with Hugh's sword-stroke in
his thigh, and calling himself a misbegot, and not fit to be speaking
to decent folk. And I minded the pride of him, and kent the very
feelings that had sent him away, but I was wishing he could have stayed
for all that, for his mother's sake.
At that time I had no word of what had happened at the ford of the burn
at Lagavile, or that Mistress Helen in her rage had turned Margaret's
words to her own purpose, but that I got later from Margaret herself.
Well, I went into the house and told them, and there was the tiravee;
and Margaret like to go out at the rigging, for indeed she was a little
spoiled. And Hugh it was that got the rough edge of her tongue, until
"I will go and fetch him back," said he.
"You!" says she, "you! As well might the hoodie-craw bring back the
kestrel," and at that the mother bridled.
"What kind of talk is this in my house?" said she, "and to your
brother. Mend your manners, mistress. What is this fly-by-night (to
say nothing worse) to you?"
"He will be all the man ever I will have," said Margaret, standing up,
and her eyes flashing, and at that her father, roused by her bravery,
laughed aloud.
"Capital," he cried, "capital,"--and then, "Hoot, my wee lass," said
he, "you're young yet. Come away wi' me," and she went out with him,
leaving us sitting mumchance.
"The best thing that could have happened," said the mistress, and made
her way to the kitchen, for if things were not right she must have some
work on her hands.
The very next day I made my way to the stable and found Margaret's
horse gone.
"She is away like the devil spinning heather," said old Tam. "She'll
be at Bothanairidh by noo," and so it was, for when I came to the farm
on the moor there was Margaret, thrang at the talking to the halflin,
and looking blither than I had thought to see her; and thinks I to
myself, he will have been telling her about Bryde and the lighted
window--and that I was right I know, although Margaret would never be
telling me what it was that Bryde said that night; and the halflin I
would not be asking, but I would be telling the lass about the three
feet of blue steel in the lad's gizzard, and at that she would laugh at
me.
"I will be giving him a golden guinea for every foot o' blue steel,"
said she, "and when I will have Bryde back he will be giving him the
double of it, for telling me these good words," and I believe the daft
lassie did just that.
But Belle would be fit for nothing but sitting and mourning. "Oh, why
did I leave my own folk and the tents and the horses, the laughter o'
the little ones, and the winding roads, to be left desolate on this
weary moor--desolate, desolate, and mourning like the Israelitish
women--the father is not, and now is the son gone from me."
And when Margaret would have comforted her, "Are not you of the same
folk, maiden?" she cried, turning her eyes bright and hard and dry on
the lass, "the same cruel proud breed"; and then again, "He was a good
son--there never was woman blessed with such a son, kind and brave and
loving, the very beasts would come to his whistle."
"But this will not be the finish," said I; "the dogs are not howling,"
and at that old Betty brisked herself.
"Yess, yess, the dogs will not be greeting Belle, woman, and that is a
sure sign," said she, wonderfully cheered. "Bryde will be coming back
a great man, and bringing old Betty a silk dress and good whisky--yess."
"Where is Fowey, Hamish?" said Margaret.
"On the coast of England, a place the smugglers frequent," said I.
"Bryde will be with the smuggling laads," cried Betty, clapping her
hands. "Is he not the brisk lad, and he will be bringing the whisky
sure--maybe it will be brandy moreover."
And we left them a little cheered that day, and Margaret still looked
happy with her thoughts.
It was in October, the fair day, that Mistress Helen came to visit
Margaret, and Hugh had carried her the news of Bryde's going.
"Your cousin has gone to his tall ships," said she to Margaret, "the
tall ships and the black cannon and the cutlasses, you remember, ma
belle."
"Bryde has gone away truly," said Margaret, and then the two retired to
their confidences. But the next day it was that Margaret told me of
the meeting by the ford.
"I am hating that woman, Hamish," said she, "with her bravery and her
beauty, and her charms that will be working backwards. . . ."
"Who was it that started these same spells?" says I. "Was it not in
your mind to be trying these havers on Bryde yourself?"
"It was not in my mind that Helen Stockdale should be trying them on
him," said she, "at any rate."
And at my laughing she left me in a pet, but not long after she would
be telling me--
"There is something fine and brave about that woman, too, Hamish," she
would say, "for she would be telling lies to Bryde McBride of what I
had said about his going, and yet she told me all these lies. I could
not be doing that," said Margaret. "No, I could not be owning to a
thing like that--myself."