The happy winter drew to an end, and spring came with some pleasures and
many cares. I am not going to tell all about what was done this spring
and summer; it would take too long. Shenac and her brother had not the
same eagerness and excitement in looking forward to the summer's work
that they had had the spring before; but they had some experience, and
were not afraid of failure. The spring work was well done, and with
comparatively little help. The garden was made, and the first crop of
weeds disposed of from some of the beds; and Shenac was beginning to
look forward to the little pause in outdoor work that was to give her
time for the wool again, when something happened. It was something
which Shenac declared delighted her more than anything that had happened
for a long time; and yet it filled her with dismay. An uncle, a brother
of their mother, who resided in the neighbourhood of the C--- Springs,
celebrated for their beneficial effects on persons troubled with
rheumatic complaints, sent for Hamish to pass the rest of the summer at
his house. The invitation was urgent. Hamish would be sure to get much
benefit from the use of the baths, and would return home before winter,
a new man.
Hamish alone hesitated; all the rest declared that he must go, and none
more decidedly than Shenac. In the first delighted moment, she thought
only of the good that Hamish was to get, and not at all of how they were
to get on without him. She did not draw back when she thought of it,
but worked night and day to get his things ready before the appointed
time.
I do not know whether the union between twins is more tender and
intimate than that between other brothers and sisters, but when Hamish
went away it seemed to Shenac that half her heart had gone with him.
The house seemed desolate, the garden and fields forsaken. Her longing
for a sight of his face was unspeakable.
All missed him. A strange silence seemed to fall upon the household.
They had hardly missed the master, in the bustle that had preceded the
going away of Hamish; but now they missed them both. The quiet grew
irksome to Dan, and he used in the evenings to go elsewhere--to Angus
Dhu's or the Camerons'--thus leaving it all the quieter for the rest.
The mother fretted a little for the lame boy, till a letter came telling
that he had arrived safe and well, and not very tired; and then she was
content.
As for Shenac, she betook herself with more energy than ever to her
work. She did not leave herself time to be lonely. It was just the
first moment of coming into the house and the sitting down at meals that
she found unbearable. For the first few days her appetite quite failed
her--a thing that had never happened within her memory before. But try
as she might, the food seemed to choke her. There was nothing for it
but to work, within doors or without, till she was too weary to stand,
and then go to bed.
And, indeed, there was plenty to do. Not too much, however, Shenac
thought--though having the share of Hamish added to her own made a great
difference. But she would not have minded the work if only Dan had been
reasonable. She had said to herself often, before Hamish went away,
that she would be ten times more patient and watchful over herself than
ever she had been before, and that Dan should have no excuse from her
for being wilful and idle. It had come into her mind of late that Angus
Dhu had not been far wrong when he said Dan was a wild lad, and she had
said as much to Hamish. But Hamish had warned her from meddling with
Dan.
"You must trust him, and show that you trust him, Shenac, if you would
get any good out of him. He is just at the age to be uneasy, and to
have plans and ways of his own, having no one to guide him. We must
have patience with Dan a while."
"If patience would do it," said Shenac sadly.
But she made up her mind that, come what might, she would watch her
words and her actions too with double care till Hamish came home again.
She was very patient with Dan, or she meant to be so; but she had a
great many things pressing on her at this time, and it vexed her beyond
measure when he, through carelessness or indifference to her wishes, let
things intrusted to him go wrong. She had self-command enough almost
always to refrain from speaking while she was angry, but she could not
help her vexed looks; and the manner in which she strove to mend
matters, by doing with her own hands what he had done imperfectly or
neglected altogether, angered Dan far more than words could have done.
They missed the peace-maker. Oh, how Shenac missed him in all things
where Dan was concerned! She had not realised before how great had been
the influence of Hamish over his brother, or, indeed, over them all. A
laughing remark from Hamish would do more to put Dan right than any
amount of angry expostulation or silent forbearance from her. Oh, how
she missed him! How were they to get through harvest-time without him?
"Mother," said Dan, as he came in to his dinner one day, "have you any
message to The Sixteenth? I am going over to McLay's raising
to-morrow."
"But, Dan, my lad, the barley is losing; and, for all that you could do
at the putting up of the barn, it hardly seems worth your while to go so
far," said his mother.
Shenac had not come in yet, but Shenac Dhu, who had come over on a
message, was there.
"Oh, I have settled that, mother. The Camerons and Sandy McMillan are
coming here in the morning. The barley will be all down by dinner-time,
and they'll take their dinner here, and we'll go up together."
"But, Dan, lad, they have barley of their own. What will Shenac say?
Have you spoken to your sister about it?" asked his mother anxiously.
"Oh, what about Shenac?" said Dan impatiently. "They will be glad to
come. What's a short forenoon to them? And I believe Shenac hates the
sight of one and all. What's the use of speaking to her?"
"Did you tell them that when you asked them?" said Shenac Dhu dryly.
"I haven't asked them yet," said Dan. "But what would they care for a
girl like Shenac, if I were to tell?"
"Try and see," said Shenac Dhu. "You're a wise lad, Dan, about some
things. Do you think it's to oblige you that Sandy McMillan is hanging
about here and bothering folk with his bees and his bees? Why, he would
go fifty miles and back again, any day of his life, for one glance from
your sister's eye. Don't fancy that folk are caring for _you_, lad."
"Shenac Dhu, my dear," said her aunt in a tone of vexation, "don't say
such foolish things, and put nonsense into the head of a child like our
Shenac."
"Well, I won't, aunt; indeed I dare not," said Shenac Dhu, laughing, as
at that moment Shenac Bhan came in.
"Shenac, what kept you?" said her mother fretfully. "Your dinner is
cold. See, Dan has finished his."
"I could not help it, mother," said Shenac, sitting down. "It was that
Sandy McMillan that hindered me. He offered to come and help us with
the barley."
"And what did you say to him?" asked Shenac Dhu demurely.
"Oh, I thanked him kindly," said Shenac, with a shrug of her shoulders.
"I must see him. Where is he, Shenac?" said Dan. "He must come
to-morrow, and the Camerons, and then we'll go to the raising together.
Is he coming to-morrow?"
"No," said Shenac sharply; "I told him their own barley was as like to
suffer for the want of cutting as ours. When we want him we'll send for
him."
"But you did not anger him, Shenac, surely?" said her mother.
"No; I don't think it. I'm not caring much whether I did or not," said
Shenac.
"Anger him!" cried Dan. "You may be sure she did. She's as grand as if
she were the first lady in the country."
This was greeted by a burst of merry laughter from the two Shenacs.
Even the mother laughed a little, it was so absurd a charge to bring
against Shenac. Dan looked sheepishly from one to the other.
"Well, it's not me that says it," said Dan angrily; "plenty folk think
that of our Shenac.--And you had no business to tell him not to come,
when I had spoken to him."
"What will Sandy care for a girl like Shenac?" asked his cousin
mockingly.
"Well, _I_ care," persisted Dan. "She's always interfering and having
her own way about things--and--"
"Whisht, Dan, lad," pleaded the mother.
"I didn't know that you had spoken to Sandy--not that it would have made
any difference, however," added Shenac candidly.
"And, Dan, you don't suppose any one will care for what a girl like
Shenac Bhan may say. He'll come all the same to please you," said
Cousin Shenac.
"Whether he comes or not, I'm going to McLay's raising," said Dan
angrily. "Shenac's not _my_ mistress, yet a while."
"Whisht, Dan; let's have no quarrelling," pleaded the mother.--"Why do
you vex him?" she continued, as Dan rushed out of the room.
"I did not mean to vex him, mother," said Shenac gently.
This was only one of many vexatious discussions that had troubled their
peace during the summer. Sometimes Shenac's conscience acquitted her of
all blame; but, whether it did or not, she always felt that if Hamish
had been at home all this might have been prevented. She did not know
how to help it. Sometimes her mother blamed her more than was quite
fair for Dan's fits of wilfulness and idleness, and she longed for
Hamish to be at home again.
Dan went to the raising, and, I daresay, was none the better for the
companionship of the offended Sandy. Shenac stayed at home and worked
at the barley till it grew dark. She even did something at it when the
moon rose, after her mother had gone to bed; but she herself was in bed
and asleep before Dan came, so there was nothing more said at that time.
The harvest dragged a little, but they got through with it in a
reasonable time. There were more wet weather and more anxiety all
through the season than there had been last year; but, on the whole,
they had reason to be thankful that it had ended so well. Shenac was by
no means so elated as she had been last year. She was very quiet and
grave, and in her heart she was beginning to ask herself whether Angus
Dhu might not have been right, and whether she might not have better
helped her mother and all of them in some other way. They had only just
raised enough on the farm to keep them through the year, and surely they
might have managed just to live with less difficulty. Even if Dan had
been as good and helpful as he ought to have been, it would not have
made much difference.
Shenac would not confess it to herself, much less to any one else, but
the work of the summer had been a little too much for her strength and
spirits. Her courage revived with a little rest and the sight of her
brother. He did not come back quite a new man, but he was a great deal
better and stronger than he had been for years; and the delight of
seeing him go about free from pain chased away the half of Shenac's
troubles. Even Dan's freaks did not seem so serious to her now, and she
made up her mind to say as little as possible to Hamish about the
vexations of the summer, and to think of nothing unpleasant now that she
had him at home again.
But unpleasant things are not so easily set aside out of one's life, and
Shenac's vexations with Dan were not over. He was more industrious than
usual about this time, and worked at cutting and bringing up the
winter's wood with a zeal that made her doubly glad that she had said
little about their summer's troubles. He talked less and did more than
usual; and Hamish bade his mother and Shenac notice how quiet and manly
he was growing, when he startled them all by a declaration that he was
going with the Camerons and some other lads to the lumbering, far up the
Grand River.
"I'm not going to the school. I would not, even if Mr Stewart were
coming back; and I am not needed at home, now that you are better,
Hamish. You can do what is needed in the winter, so much of the wood is
up; and, at any rate, I am going."
Hamish entreated him to stay at home for his mother's sake, or to choose
some less dangerous occupation, if he must go away.
"Dangerous! Nonsense, Hamish! Why should it be more dangerous to me
than to the rest? I cannot be a child all my life to please my mother
and Shenac."
"No; that is true," said Hamish; "but neither can you be a man all at
once to please yourself. You are neither old enough nor strong enough
for such work as is done in the woods, whatever you may think."
"There are younger lads going to the woods than I am," muttered Dan
sulkily.
"Yes; but they are not going to do men's work nor get men's wages. If
you are wise, you will bide at home."
But all that Hamish could get from Dan was a promise that he would not
go, as he had first intended, without his mother's leave. This was not
easy to get, for the fate of Lewis might well fill the mother's heart
with terror for Dan, who was much younger than his brother had been.
But she consented at last, and Shenac and Hamish set themselves to make
the best of Dan's going, for their mother's sake.
"He'll be in safe keeping with the Camerons, mother, and it will do him
good to rough it a little. We'll have him back in the spring, more of a
man and easier to do with," said Hamish.
But the mother was not easily comforted. Dan's going brought too
vividly back the going of those who had never returned; and the mother
fretted and pined for the lad, and murmured sometimes that, if Shenac
had been more forbearing with him, he might not have wanted to go. She
did not know how she hurt her daughter, or she never would have said
anything like that, for in her heart she knew that Shenac was not to
blame for the waywardness of Dan. But Shenac did not defend herself,
and the mother murmured on till the first letter came, saying that Dan
was well and doing well, and then she was content.
About this time they had a visit from their Uncle Allister, their
mother's brother, in whose house Hamish had passed the summer. He
brought his two daughters--pretty, cheerful girls--who determined
between themselves, encouraged by Hamish, that they should carry off
Shenac for a month's visit when they went home. They succeeded too,
though Shenac declared and believed it to be impossible that she should
leave home, even up to the day before they went. The change did her a
great deal of good. She came back much more like the Shenac of two
years ago than she had seemed for a long time; and, as spring drew on,
she could look forward to the labours of another summer without the
miserable misgivings that had so vexed her in the fall. Indeed, now
that Hamish was well, whether Dan came home or not, she felt sure of
success, and of a quiet and happy summer for them all.
But before spring came something happened. There came a letter from
Allister--not this time to the mother, but to Angus Dhu. It told of
wonderful success which had followed his going to the gold country, and
made known to Angus Dhu that in a certain bank in the city of M--- he
would find a sum of money equal to all his father's debt, with interest
up to the first day of May following, at which time he trusted that he
would give up all claim to the land that had been in his possession for
the last two years, according to the promise made to his father. He was
coming home soon, he added; he could not say just when. He meant to
make more money first, and then, if all things were to his mind, he
should settle down on his father's land and wander no more.
It was also added, quite at the end of the paper, as though he had not
intended to speak of it at first, that he had had nothing to do with the
going away of his cousin, as he had heard the lad's father had supposed,
but that he should do his best to bring him home again; "for," he added,
"it is not at all a happy life that folk must live in this golden land."
To say that Angus Dhu was surprised when this letter came would not be
saying enough. He was utterly amazed. He had often thought that when
Allister was tired of his wanderings in foreign lands he might wander
home again and claim his share of what his father had left. But that he
had gone away and stayed away all this time for the purpose of redeeming
the land which his father had lost, he never for a moment supposed. He
even now thought it must have been a fortunate chance that had given the
money first into Allister's hand and then into his own. He made up his
mind at once that he should give up the land. It did not cost him half
as much to do so as it would have cost him two years ago not to get it.
It had come into his mind more than once of late, as he had seen how
well able the widow's children were to manage their own affairs, that
they might have been trusted to pay their father's debt in time; and,
whatever his neighbours thought, he began to think himself that he had
been hard on his cousin. Of course he did not say so; but he made up
his mind to take the money and give up the land.
And what words shall describe the joyful pride of Shenac? She did not
try to express it in words while Angus Dhu was there, but "her face and
her sparkling eyes were a sight to behold," as the old man afterwards in
confidence told his daughter Shenac. There were papers to be drawn up
and exchanged, and a deal of business of one kind or another to be
settled between the widow and Angus Dhu, and a deal of talk was needed,
or at least expended, in the course of it; but in it Shenac took no
part. She placed entire reliance on the sense and prudence of Hamish,
and she kept herself quite in the background through it all.
She would not acknowledge to any one who congratulated her on Allister's
success, that any surprise mingled with her pleasure; and once she took
Shenac Dhu up sharply--gave her a down-setting, as that astonished young
woman expressed it--because she did not take the coming of the money
quite as a matter of course, and ventured to express a little surprise
as well as pleasure at the news.
"And what is there surprising in it?" demanded Shenac Bhan. "Is our
Allister one whose well-doing need astonish any one? But I forgot. He
is not _your_ brother. You don't know our Allister, Shenac."
"Don't I?" said Shenac Dhu, opening her black eyes a little wider than
usual. "Well, I don't wonder that you are proud of your brother. But
you need not take a body up like that. I'm not surprised that he minded
you all, and sent the money when he got it; but it is not, as a general
thing, the good, true hearts that get on in this world. I was aye sure
he would come back, but I never thought of his being a rich man."
Shenac Dhu sighed, as if she had been bemoaning his poverty.
"She's thinking of Evan yonder," said Shenac Bhan to herself. "Our
Allister is not a rich man," she said gravely. "He sent enough to pay
the debt and the interest. There is a little over, because your father
won't take the interest for the last two years, having had the land.
But our Allister is not rich."
"But he means to be rich before he comes home," persisted Shenac Dhu;
"and neither he nor Evan will be content to bide quietly here again--
never. It aye spoils people to go away and grow rich."
Shenac Bhan looked at her with some surprise.
"I cannot answer for Evan, but our Allister says he is coming home to
stay. I'm not afraid for him."
"Oh, but he must be changed after all these years. He has forgotten how
different life is here," said Shenac Dhu with a sigh. "But, Shenac,
your Allister speaks kindly of our Evan--in the letter your mother got,
I mean."
"That he does," said Shenac Bhan eagerly. "He says they are like
brothers, and he says your father need not be sorry that Evan went away.
He needed hardening, and he'll win through bravely; and Allister says
he'll bring Evan with him when he comes. You may trust our Allister,
Shenac."
"May I?" said Shenac Dhu a little wistfully. "Well, I will," she added,
laughing. "But, Shenac, I cannot help it. I _am_ surprised that
Allister should turn out a rich man. He is far too good for the like of
that. But there is one good thing come out of it--my father has got
quit of the land. You can never cast that up again, Shenac Bhan."
Shenac Bhan's cheek was crimsoned.
"I never cast it up to you, Shenac Dhu," said she hastily. "I never
spoke to any one but himself; and I was sorry as soon as I said it."
"You need not be. He thought none the worse of you, after the first
anger. But, Shenac, my father is not so hard a man as folk think. I do
believe he is less glad for the money than he is for Allister and you
all. If Evan would only come home! My father has so set his heart on
Evan."
Though Shenac took the matter quietly as far as the rest of the world
was concerned, she "emptied her heart" to Hamish. To him she confessed
she had grown a little doubtful of Allister.
"But, Hamish, I shall never doubt or be discouraged again. If Allister
only comes safe home to my mother and to us all, I shall be content. We
are too young, Hamish. It does not harm you, I know; but as for me, I
am getting as hard as a stone, and as cross as two sticks. I shall be
glad when the time comes that I can do as I am bidden again."
Hamish laughed. "Are you hard, Shenac, and cross? Well, maybe just a
little sometimes. I am not afraid for you, though. It will all come
right, I think, in the end. But I am glad Allister is coming home, and
more glad for your sake than for all the rest."