Winter set in early that year, but not too early for Shenac and her
brothers. The winter preparations had all been made before the
delightful stormy morning came, when Hugh and Colin and little Flora
chased one another round and round in the door-yard, making many paths
in the new-fallen snow. The house had been banked up with earth, and
every crack and crevice in the roof and walls closed. The garden had
been dug and smoothed as if the seeds were to be sown the next day. The
barn and stable were in perfect order. The arrangements for tying up
oxen and cows, which are always sure to get out of order in summer, had
been made anew, and the farming-tools gathered safely under cover.
These may seem little things; but the comfort of many a household has
been interfered with because such little things have been neglected.
What may be done at any time is very often left till the right time is
past, and disorder and discomfort are sure to follow. I daresay the
early snow fell that year on many a plough left in the furrow, and on
many a hoe and spade left in garden or yard. But all was as it should
be at Mrs Macivor's.
In summer, when a long day's work in the field was the order of things,
when those who were strong and able were always busy, it seemed to
Hamish that he was of little use. This was a mistake of his. He was of
great use in many ways, even when he went to the field late and left it
early; for though Shenac took the lead in work and planning, she was
never sure that her plans were wise, or even practicable, till she had
talked them over with Hamish. She would have lost patience with Dan and
the rest, and with her mother even, if she had not had Hamish to "empty
her heart to." But even Shenac, though she loved her brother dearly,
and valued his counsels and sympathy as something which she could not
have lived and laboured without--even she did not realise how much of
their comfort depended on the work of his weak hands. It was Hamish who
banked the house and made the garden; it was he who drove nails and
filled cracks, who gathered up tools and preserved seeds, quietly doing
what others did not do and remembering what others forgot. It was
Hamish who cared for the creatures about the place; it was he who made
and mended and kept in order many things which it would have cost money
to get or much inconvenience to go without. So it may be said that it
was owing to Hamish that the early snow did not find them unprepared.
A grave matter was under discussion within-doors that morning while
little Flora and her brothers were chasing each other through the snow.
It was whether Dan was to go to the school that winter. It was seldom
that any but young children could go to school in the summer-time, the
help of the elder ones being needed in the field as soon as they were
old enough to help. But in the winter few young people thought
themselves too old to go to school while the teacher could carry them
on. Hamish and Shenac had gone up to the time of their father's death.
But as for Dan, he thought himself old enough now to have done with
school. He had never been, in country phrase, "a good scholar?"--that
is, he had never taken kindly to his books--a circumstance which seemed
almost like disgrace in the eyes of Shenac; and she was very desirous
that he should get the good of this winter, especially as they were to
have a new teacher, whose fame had preceded him. Dan was taking it for
granted that he was the mainstay at home, and that for him school was
out of the question. But the rest thought differently; and it was
decided, much to his discontent, that when the winter's wood was
brought, to school he must go.
Great was his disgust--so great that he began to talk about going to the
woods with the lumberers; at which Shenac laughed, but Hamish looked
grave, and bade him think twice before he gave his mother so sore a
heart as such a word as that would do. Dan did think twice, and said
nothing more about the woods. His going to school, however, did not do
him much good in the way of learning, but it did in the way of
discipline. At any rate, it left him less idle time than he would
otherwise have had; and though his boyish mischief vexed Shenac often,
things might have been worse with Dan, as Hamish said, and little harm
was done.
Winter is a pleasant time in a country farm-house. In our country the
summers are so short, and so much work must be crowded into them, that
there is little time for any enjoyment, save that of doing well what is
to be done, and watching the successful issue. But in winter there is
leisure--leisure for enjoyment of various kinds, visiting, sewing,
singing; and it is generally made the most of.
As for Shenac, the feeling that all the summer's work was successfully
ended, that the farm-products were safely housed beyond loss, gave her a
sense of being at leisure, though her hands were full of work, and would
be for a long time yet. The fulled cloth and the flannel came home.
The tailor came for a week to make the lads' clothes, and she helped him
with them; and tailor McCallum, though as a general thing rather
contemptuous of woman's help, acknowledged that she helped him to
purpose.
A great deal may be learned by one who begins by thinking nothing too
difficult to learn; and Shenac's stitching and button-holes were
something to wonder at before the tailor's visit was over.
Then came Katie Matheson to help with the new gowns. Shenac felt
herself quite equal to these, but, as Shenac Dhu insisted, "Katie had
been at M--- within the year, and knew the fashions;" so Katie came for
a day or two. Of this wish to follow the fashion, the mother was
inclined to speak severely; for what had young folk with their bread to
win to do with the fashions of the idle people of the world? But even
the mother did not object to following them when she found the wide,
useless sleeves, so much sought after by foolish young girls, giving
place to the small coat-sleeves which had been considered the thing in
her own and her mother's youth. They were, as she said, far more
sensible-like, and a saving besides. The additional width which Katie
quietly appropriated to Shenac's skirt would have been declared a piece
of sinful extravagance, if the mother had known of it before Shenac was
turning round, from one to another, to be admired with the new dress on.
She did cry out at the length. Why the stocking could only just be
seen above the shoe tied round the slender ankle! There was surely no
call to waste good cloth by making the skirt so long. "Never mind,"
said Katie: "Flora's should be all the shorter;" and by that means
little Flora was in the fashion too.
I daresay Shenac's pleasure in her new dress might have awakened
amusement, perhaps contempt, among young people to whom new dresses are
not so rare a luxury. But never a young belle of them all could have
the same right to take pleasure and pride in silk or satin as Shenac had
to be proud of her simple shepherd's plaid. She had shorn the wool, and
spun and dyed it with her own hands. She had made it too, with Katie's
help; and never was pleasure more innocent or more unmixed than hers, as
she stood challenging admiration for it from them all.
Indeed, both the dress and the wearer might have successfully challenged
admiration from a larger and less interested circle than that--at least,
so thought the new master, who came in with Hamish while the affair was
in progress. He had seen prettier faces, and nicer dresses too, it is
to be supposed; but he had certainly never seen anything prettier or
nicer than Shenac's innocent pride and delight in her own handiwork.
Shenac Dhu gave the whole a finishing touch as she drew round her
cousin's not very slender waist a black band fastened with a silver
clasp--an heirloom in the family since the time that the Macivors used
to wear the Highland garb among their native hills.
"Now walk away and let us see you," said she, giving her a gentle push.
Shenac minced and swung her skirts as she moved, as little children do
when they are playing "fine ladies." Even her mother could not help
laughing, it was so unlike the busy, anxious Shenac of the last few
months.
"Is she not a vain creature?" said Shenac Dhu. "No wonder that you look
at her that way, Hamish, lad."
The eyes of Hamish shone with pride and pleasure as they followed his
sister.
"Next year I'll weave it myself," said Shenac, coming back again. "You
need not laugh, Shenac Dhu. You'll see."
"Yes, I daresay. And where will you get your loom?" And Shenac Dhu put
up both hands and made-believe to cut her hair. Shenac Bhan shook her
head at her.
"I can learn to weave; you'll see. Anybody can learn anything if they
try," said Shenac.
"Except the binomial theorem," said Hamish, laughing.
His sister shook her head at him too. Charmed with the "new kind of
arithmetic" which Mr Rugg had brought, yet not enjoying any pleasure to
the full unless his sister enjoyed it with him, Hamish had tried to
beguile her into giving her spare hours to the study. But Shenac's mind
was occupied with other things, and, rather scornful of labour which
seemed to come to nothing, she had given little heed to it.
"I could learn that too, but what would be the good of it?" asked
Shenac.
"Ask the master," said Hamish.
"Well?" said Shenac, turning to Mr Stewart.
"Do you mean what is the good of algebra, or what would be the good of
it to you?" asked Mr Stewart.
"What would be the good of it to me? I can never have any use for the
like of that."
"The discipline of learning it might be good for you," said Mr Stewart.
"I once heard a lady say that her knowledge of Euclid had helped her to
cut and make her children's clothes."
Shenac laughed.
"I daresay Katie here could have taught her more about it with less
trouble."
"I daresay you are right," said the master. "And the discipline of the
wheel and the loom, and of household care, may be far better than the
discipline of study to prepare you for life and what it may bring you.
I am sure this gown, for instance," he added, laying his finger on the
sleeve, "has been worth far more to you already than the money it would
bring. I mean the patience and energy expended on it will be of far
more value to you; for you know these good gifts, well bestowed, leave
the bestower all the richer for the giving."
"I don't know how that may be," said Shenac, "but I know I would rather
have this gown of my own making than the prettiest one that Katie has
made for twelve months."
I do not know how I came to speak of the winter as a season of leisure
in connection with Shenac, for this winter was a very busy time with
her. True, her work did not press upon her, so as to make her anxious
or impatient, as it sometimes used to do in summer; but she was never
idle. There were sewing and housework and a little wool-spinning, and
much knitting of stockings and mittens for them all. The knitting was
evening work, and, when Hamish was not reading aloud, Shenac's hands and
eyes were busy with different matters. She read while she knitted, and
enjoyed it greatly, much to her own surprise, for, as she told Hamish,
she thought she had given up caring about anything but to work and to
get on.
They had more books than usual this winter, and more help to understand
them, so that instead of groping on alone, sometimes right and sometimes
wrong, Hamish made great progress; and wherever Hamish was, Shenac was
not far away. It was a very quiet winter in one way--there was not much
visiting here and there. Hamish was not fit for that. Shenac went
without him sometimes now. She was young, and her mind being at ease,
she took pleasure in the simple, innocent merry-makings of the place.
She was content to leave Hamish when she did not have to leave him
alone, which rarely happened now. The master lived in the house of
Angus Dhu, but it seemed that the humbler home of the widow and the
company of Hamish suited him best, for scarcely two evenings passed
without finding him there; and Shenac could go with a good heart,
knowing that her brother was busy and happy at home.
Afterwards, when changes came, and new anxieties and cares pressed upon
her, Shenac used to look back on this winter as the happiest time of her
life. It was not merely that the summer's work had been successful, but
that the summer's success seemed to make all their future secure. There
was no doubt now about their being able to keep together and carry on
the farm. That was settled. She was at rest--they were all at rest--
about that. Their future did not depend now upon Allister's uncertain
coming home. It would not be true to say she saw no difficulties in the
way; but she saw none to daunt her. Even Dan seemed to have come to
himself. He seemed to have forgotten his self-assertion--his
"contrariness," as Shenac called it--and was a boy again, noisy and full
of fun, but gentle and helpful too. The little ones were well and
happy, and getting on well in school, as all the Macivors were bound to
do. The mother was comparatively well and cheerful. Her monotonous
flax-spinning filled up the quiet, uneventful days, and, untroubled by
out-door anxieties, she was content.
But, in looking back over this happy time, it was to Hamish that
Shenac's thoughts most naturally turned, for it was the happiness of her
twin-brother, more than all the rest put together, that made the
happiness of Shenac. And Hamish was happier, more like himself, than
ever he had been since their troubles began. Not so merry, perhaps, as
the Hamish of the former days; but he was happy, that was sure. He was
far from well, and he sometimes suffered a good deal; but his illness
was not of a kind to alarm them for his life, and unless he had been
exposed in some way, or a sudden change of the weather brought on his
old rheumatic pains, he was, on the whole, comfortable in health. But
whether he suffered or not, he was happy, that was easily seen. There
was no sitting silent through the long gloamings now, no weary drooping
of his head upon his hands, no wearier struggle to look up and join in
the household talk of the rest. There were no heart-sick broodings over
his own helplessness, no murmurings as to the burden he might yet
become. He did not often speak of his happiness in words, just as he
had seldom spoken of his troubles; but every tone of his gentle voice
and every glance of his loving eye spoke to the heart of his sister,
filling it with content for his sake.
What was the cause of the change? what was the secret of her brother's
peace? Shenac wondered and wondered. She knew it was through his
friend, Mr Stewart, that her brother's life seemed changed; but,
knowing this, she wondered none the less. What was his secret power?
What could Hamish see in that plain, dark man, so grave and quiet, so
much older than he?
True, they had the common tie of a love of knowledge, and pored together
over lines and figures and strange books as though they would never grow
weary of it all. It was true that, more than any one had ever done
before, the master had opened new paths of knowledge to the eager lad--
that by a few quiet words he put more life and heart into a subject than
others could do by hours and hours of talk. But all these things Shenac
shared and enjoyed without being able to understand how, through the
master, a new and peaceful influence seemed to have fallen on the life
of Hamish.
She did not grudge it to him. She was not jealous of the new interest
that had come to brighten her brother's life--at least at this time she
was not. Afterwards, when new cares and vexations pressed upon her, she
vexed herself with the thought that something had come between her
brother and herself which made her troubles not so much his as they used
to be, and she blamed this new friendship for the difference. But no
such thoughts vexed these first pleasant months.
Hamish was indeed changed. Unrealised at first by himself, the most
wonderful change that can come between the cradle and the grave had
happened to him. He had found a secret spring of peace, hidden as yet
from his sister's eyes. He had obtained a staff to lean on, which made
his weakness stronger than her strength; and this had come to him
through the master. There was a bond between the friends, stronger,
sweeter, and more enduring than even that which united the twin brother
and sister--the BOND OF BROTHERHOOD IN CHRIST. On Norman Stewart had
been conferred the highest of all honours; to him had been given the
chief of all happiness. Through _his_ voice the voice of Jesus had
spoken peace to a troubled soul. To him it had been given so to hold
forth the word of life that to a soul sitting in darkness a great light
sprang up.
I cannot tell you how it came about, except that the heart of the master
being full of love to Christ, it could not but overflow in loving words
from his lips. Attracted first to Hamish by the patience and gentleness
with which he suffered, he could not do otherwise than seek to lead him
to the Great Healer; and his touch was life. Then all the shadows that
had darkened the past and the future to the lame boy fled away.
Gradually all the untoward circumstances of his life seemed to adjust
themselves anew. His lameness, his suffering, his helplessness were no
longer parts of a mystery, darkening all the future to him, but parts of
a plan through which something better than a name and a place in the
world might be obtained. Little by little he came to know himself to be
one of God's favoured ones; and then he would not have turned his hand
to win the lot that all his life had seemed the most desirable to him.
Before his friend he saw such a life--a life of labour for the highest
of all ends. Before himself he saw a life of suffering, a narrow sphere
of action, helplessness, dependence; but he no longer murmured. He was
coming to know, through the new life given him, how that "to do God's
will is sweet, and to bear God's will is sweet--the one as sweet as the
other, to those to whom he reveals himself;" and to have learned this is
to rejoice for evermore.
The master's term of office came to an end, and the friends were to
part. It was June by this time; and when he had bidden all the rest
goodbye, Mr Stewart lingered still with Hamish at the gate. Hamish had
said something about meeting again, and the master answered,--
"Yes, surely we shall meet again--if not here, yonder;" and he pointed
upward. "We shall be true friends there, Hamish, bhodach; be sure of
that."
Tears that were not all sorrowful stood on the cheeks of Hamish, and he
laid his face down on the master's shoulder without speaking.
"Much may lie between us and that time," continued the master--"much to
do, and, it may be, much to suffer; but it is sure to come."
"For me, too," murmured Hamish. "They also serve who only wait."
"Yes," said the master; "they who wait are blessed."
"And I shall thank God all my life that he sent you here to me," said
Hamish.
"And I too," said the master. "It seemed to me an untoward chance
indeed that turned me aside from the path I had chosen and sent me here,
and the good Father has put my doubts and fears to shame, in that he has
given me you, and, through you, others, to be stars in my crown of
rejoicing against that day. God bless you! Farewell."
"God bless you, and farewell," echoed Hamish.
So Mr Stewart went away, and Hamish watched till he was out of sight,
and still stood long after that, till Shenac came to chide him for
lingering out in the damp, and drew him in. She did not speak to him.
There were tears on his cheek, she thought, and her own voice failed
her. But when they came to the light the tears were gone, but the look
of peace that had rested on his face all these months rested on it
still.