I am glad to say that Shenac did not let the sun go down on her wrath.
Indeed, long before sunset she was heartily ashamed of her outbreak
towards Angus Dhu, and acknowledged as much to Hamish. Not that she
believed he had acted justly and kindly in his past dealings with her
father; nor was she satisfied that the future interests of the family
would be safe in his hands. Even while acknowledging how wrong and
foolish she had been in speaking as she had done, she declared to Hamish
that Angus Dhu should neither "make nor meddle" in their affairs. They
must cling together, and do the best they could, till Allister should
come home, whatever Angus Dhu might say.
That her mother might yield to persuasion on this point, she thought
possible; for the widow had lost courage, and saw only the darker side
of their affairs. But Shenac stoutly declared that day to Hamish that
no one should be suffered to persuade her mother to the breaking of her
heart. No one had a right to interfere in their affairs further than
should be welcome to them all. For her part, she was not afraid of
Angus Dhu, nor of Elder McMillan, nor of any one else, when it came to
the question of breaking up their home and sending them, one here and
another there, away from the mother.
Shenac felt very strong and brave as she said all this to Hamish; and
yet when, as it was growing dark that night, she saw Elder McMillan
opening their gate, her first impulse was to run away. She did not,
however, but said to herself, "Now is the time to stand by my mother,
and help her to resist the elder's efforts to get little Hugh away from
us." Besides, she could not go away without being seen, and it would
look cowardly; so she placed herself behind the little wheel which the
mother had left for a moment, and when the elder came in she was as busy
and as quiet as (in his frequently-expressed opinion) it was the bounden
duty of all young women to be.
Now, there was nothing in the whole round of Shenac's duties so
distasteful to her as spinning on the little wheel. The constant and
unexciting employment for hands and mind that spinning afforded, and
perhaps the pleasant monotony of the familiar humming of the wheel,
always exerted a soothing influence on the mother; and one of the first
things that had given them hope of her recovery after the shock of the
burning of the house was her voluntary bringing out of the wheel. But
it was very different with Shenac. The strength and energy so
invaluable to her in her household work or her work in the fields were
of no avail to her here. To sit following patiently and constantly the
gradual forming and twisting of the thread, did not suit her as it did
her mother; and watchful and excited as she was that night, she could
hardly sit quiet while the elder went through his usual salutations to
her mother and the rest.
He was in no haste to make known his errand, if he had one, and he was
in no haste to go. He spoke in slow, unwilling sentences, as he had
done many times before, of the mysterious dealings of Providence with
the family, making long pauses between. And through his talk and his
silence the widow sat shedding a few quiet tears in the dark, and now
and then uttering a word of reply.
What was the good of it all Shenac would have liked to shake him, and to
bid him "say his say" and go; but the elder seemed to have no say, at
least concerning Hugh. He went slowly through his accustomed round of
condolence with her mother and advice to the boys and Shenac, and, as he
rose to go, added something about a bee which some of the neighbours had
been planning to help the widow with the ploughing and sowing of her
land, and then he went away.
"Some of the neighbours," repeated Shenac in a whisper to her brother.
"That's the elder's way of heaping coals on my head--good man!"
"What do you suppose the elder cares about a girl like you, or Angus Dhu
either?" asked Hamish with a shrug.
Shenac laughed, but had no time to answer.
"I was afraid it might be about wee Hughie that the elder wanted to
speak," said the mother with a sigh of relief as she came in from the
door, where she had bidden the visitor good-night.
"And what about Hughie?" asked Shenac, resuming her spinning. She knew
very well what about him; but her mother had not told her, and this was
as good a way as any to begin about their plans for the summer.
Instead of answering her question, the mother said, after a moment's
silence,--
"He's a good man, Elder McMillan."
"Oh yes, I daresay he's a good man," said Shenac with some sharpness;
"but that's no reason why he should want to have our Hughie."
The little boys were all in bed by this time, and Hamish and Shenac were
alone with their mother. After a little impatient twitching of her
thread, Shenac put aside her wheel, swept up the hearth, and moved about
putting things in order in the room, and then she came and sat down
beside her mother. She did not speak, however; she did not know what to
say. Any allusion to the summer's work was almost surer to make her
mother shed tears, and Shenac could not bear to grieve her. She darted
an impatient glance at Hamish, who seemed to have no intention of
helping her to-night. He was sitting with his face upon his hands, just
as he had been sitting through the elder's visit, and Shenac could not
catch his eye. It seemed wrong to risk the bringing on of a wakeful,
moaning, miserable night to her mother; and she was thinking she would
say no more till morning, when her mother spoke again.
"Yes, Elder McMillan is a good man. I would not be afraid for Hugh, and
he would be near at hand."
"Yes," said Shenac, making an effort to speak quietly, "if Hugh must go,
he might as well go to Elder McMillan's as anywhere--" She stopped.
"And Dan needs a firm hand, they say," continued the mother, her voice
breaking a little; "but I'm afraid for him. Angus Dhu is a stern man,
and Dan has been used to a hand gentle as well as firm. But he would
not be far away."