"Should I ask it now, dear?"
"Yes, I think so," said his sister gravely. "The spring will soon be
here, and the busy time. I think it should be soon. Have you spoken to
Shenac since?"
"No; I have not. Though I may wish it, and Shenac might consent, there
is more to be thought of. We will not have you troubled, after all you
have gone through, till you are quite ready for it--you and Hamish."
"But surely Shenac cannot doubt I will speak to her myself; and I think
it should be soon," said his sister.
They were sitting in the new, bright kitchen, and it was growing dark.
There was a stove in it, one of the latest kind, for use; but there was
a great wide fireplace too, for pleasure; and all the light that was in
the room came from the great maple logs and glowing embers. Little
Flora had gone to the mill with Dan, Hamish was at his uncle's, and the
other lads were not come in; so they had the house to themselves. There
was silence between them for a little while, and then his sister said
again,--
"I'll speak to Shenac."
The chance to do so was nearer than she thought; for there was a touch
at the door-latch, and a voice said softly,--
"Are you here, Cousin Shenac? I want to speak to you. Hamish told me
you were quite alone."
"Yes, she's quite alone, except me." And Allister made one stride
across the floor, and Shenac Dhu was held fast. She could not have
struggled from that gentle and firm clasp, and she did not try.
"I thought you were at The Sixteenth, Allister," said she. "I was
there, but I am here now. And our Shenac wants to speak to you."
He brought her to the fire-light, where our Shenac was waiting, a little
shyly--that is, Shenac waited shyly. Allister brought the other Shenac
forward, not at all shyly, quite triumphantly, indeed, and then our
Shenac said softly,--
"When are you coming home, sister Shenac?"
With that the startled little creature gave one look into our Shenac's
face, and breaking from Allister's gentle hold, she clasped her round
the neck, and wept and sobbed in a way that astonished them more than a
little. For indeed there was no cause for tears, said Shenac Bhan; and
indeed she was very foolish to cry, said Allister--though there were
tears in his own eyes; and as for Shenac Bhan, the tears did not stay in
her eyes, but ran down over her face and fell on the soft black braids
of the other Shenac's bowed head; for joy will make tears fall as well
as sorrow sometimes, and joy and sorrow mingled is the source of these.
But indeed, indeed, I never thought of telling all this. When I began
my story I never meant to put a word of love or marriage in it. I meant
to end it at the happy day when Allister came home. But all Shenac's
work at home was not done when her good and loving brother took the
place she had filled so well. So my story has gone on, and will go on a
little longer; though that night, when Shenac Dhu went away and Allister
went with her, leaving Shenac Bhan to her own thoughts, she said to
herself that very soon there would be nothing more for her to do.
Allister and Shenac Dhu would care for the little ones better than she
ever could have done; for the lads were wilful often, and sometimes her
patience failed, and Allister would make men of them--wise, and strong,
and gentle, like himself. And Shenac, sweet, kind, merry Shenac Dhu,
would never be hard with the lads or little Flora, for she loved them
dearly; and it would be better for the children just to have Allister
and Shenac Dhu, and no elder sister to appeal to from them. It would be
better that she should go away--at least for a little while, till other
authority than hers should be established.
Yes; her work for the children was done. She said it over and over
again, repeating that it was better so, and that she was glad and
thankful that all would be so well. But she said it with many a tear
and many a sigh and sob; for, having no experience of life beyond her
long labour and care for them, it seemed to this foolish Shenac that
really and truly her life's work was done. No, she did not say it in
words, even to herself; but the future looked blank and bare to her.
Any future that seemed possible to her looked rather dark than bright;
and she feared--oh, so much!--to take her destiny in her hands and go
away alone.
But not a word of all this had been spoken to Allister and Shenac Dhu.
Not even Hamish had been told of her plans. No, not her plans--she had
none--but the vague blending of wishes and fears that came with all her
thoughts of the future. There would be time enough by-and-by to tell
him; and, indeed, Shenac was a little afraid to let the light of her
brother's sense and wisdom in on all her thoughts. For Hamish had a way
of putting things in a light that made them look quite different.
Sometimes this made her laugh, and sometimes it vexed her; but, whether
or not, the chances were she would come round in time to see things as
he saw them.
And, besides, there was something in this matter that she could not tell
to Hamish--at least, it seemed to her that she could not, even if it
would be right and kind to do so; and without this she feared that her
wish to go away from home might not commend itself to him. Indeed, if
it had not been for this thing which could not be told, she might not
have wished to leave home. She would hardly have found courage to break
away from them all and go to a new, untried life, of her own free will,
even though her work at home were done.
This was the thing which Shenac thought she never could tell even to
Hamish. One night, on her way home from his house, she had been waylaid
by Angus Dhu, and startled out of measure by a request, nay, an
entreaty, that "she would be kind to poor Evan." Then the old man had
gone on to say how welcome she would be if she would come home and be
the daughter of the house when his Shenac went to Allister. He told her
how fondly she should be cherished by them all, and how everything
within and without should be ordered according to her will; for he was
sure that union with one of her firm yet gentle nature was just what was
needed to make a good man of his wayward lad. She had listened, because
she could not break away, wishing all the time that the earth would open
and that she might creep away into the fissure and get out of sight.
For, indeed, she had never thought of such a thing as that. Nor Evan
either, she was sure--she thought--she did not know. Oh, well, perhaps
he had thought of it, and had tried to make it known to her in his
foolish way. But she never really would have found it out or thought
about it if his father had not spoken; and now she would never be able
to think about anything else in the presence of either.
It was too bad, and wrong, and miserable, and uncomfortable, and I don't
know what else, she said to herself, for it could never be--never. And
yet, why not? It would seem natural enough to people generally; her
aunt would like it, her uncle's heart was set on it, and Allister and
Shenac Dhu would be pleased. Even Hamish would not object. And Evan
himself? Oh, no; it could never be. She would never care for him in
that way. He was not like Allister, nor like any one she cared for--so
different from--from--Shenac was sitting alone in the dark, but she
suddenly dropped her face in her hands. For quite unbidden, with a
shock of surprise and pain that made her heart stand still for a moment,
and then set it beating wildly, a name had come to her lips--the name of
one so wise and good in her esteem that to speak it at such a time, even
in her thoughts, seemed desecration.
"I am growing foolish, I think, with all this vexation and nonsense; and
I won't think about it any more. I have enough to keep me busy till
Shenac Dhu comes home, and then I'll have it out with Hamish."
The wedding was a very quiet one. It was hardly a wedding at all, said
the last-married sisters, who had gone away amid feasting and music.
There was no groomsman nor bridesmaid, for Shenac Bhan could hardly
stand in her black dress, and Shenac Dhu would have no one else; and
there were no guests out of the two families. Old Mr Farquharson came
up one morning, and it was "put over quietly," as Angus Dhu said; and
after dinner, which might have served half the township both for
quantity and quality, Allister and his bride went away for their wedding
trip, which was only to the town of M--- to see Christie More and make a
few purchases. They were to be away a week--certainly no longer--and
then the new life was to begin.
Shenac Bhan stood watching till they were out of sight; and then she
stood a little longer, wondering whether she might not go straight home
without turning into the house. No; she could not. They were all
expected to stay the rest of the day and have tea, and visit with her
cousins, who lived at some distance, and had been little in their
father's house since they went to their own.
"Mind you are not to stay away, Hamish, bhodach," whispered Shenac, as
they turned towards the house; and Hamish, who had been thinking of it,
considered himself in honour bound to return after he had gone to see
that all was right at home.
It was not so very bad, after all. The two young wives were full of
their own affairs, and compared notes about the butter and cheese-making
which they had carried on during the summer, and talked about flannel
and full-cloth and the making of blankets in a way that must have set
their mother's heart at rest about their future as notable
house-keepers. And Shenac Bhan listened and joined, seemingly much
interested, but wondering all the time why she did not care a pin about
it all. Flannel and full-cloth, made with much labour and pains, as the
means of keeping Hamish and little Flora and the lads from the cold, had
been matters of intense interest; and butter put down, and cheese
disposed of, as the means of getting sugar and tea and other things
necessary to the comfort of her mother and the rest, had been prized to
their utmost value. But flannel and full-cloth, butter and cheese, were
in themselves, or as a means of wealth, matters of indifference.
Allister's good heart and strong arm were between them and a struggle
for these things now; and that made the difference.
But, as she sat listening and wondering, Shenac did not understand all
this, and felt vexed and mortified with herself at the change. Annie
and Mary, her cousins, were content to look forward to a long routine of
spinning and weaving, dairy-work and house-work, and all the rest. Why
should she not do the same? She used to do so. No; she used to work
without looking forward. She could do so still, if there were any need
for it--any good in it--if it were to come to anything. But to work on
for yards of flannel and pounds of butter that Flora and the rest, and
all the world indeed, would be just as well without--the thought of that
was not pleasant.
She grew impatient of her thoughts, as well as the talk, at last, and
went to help her aunt to set out the table for tea. This was better.
She could move about and chat with her concerning the cream-cheese made
for the occasion, and of the cake made by Shenac Dhu from a recipe sent
by Christie More, of which her mother had stood in doubt till it was
cut, but no longer. Then there were the new dishes of the bride, which
graced the table--pure white, with just a little spray of blue. They
were quite beautiful, Shenac thought. Then her aunt let her into the
secret of a second set of knives and forks--very handsome, which even
the bride herself had not seen yet; and so on till Hamish came in with
Angus Dhu. Then Shenac could have cried with vexation, she felt so
awkward and uncomfortable under the old man's watchful, well-pleased
eye; and when Evan and the two Dans came in it was worse. She laid
hands on a long grey stocking, her aunt's work, and betook herself to
the corner where Annie and Mary were still talking more earnestly than
ever. She startled them by the eagerness with which she questioned
first one and then the other as to the comparative merits of madder
and--something else--for dyeing red. It was a question of vital
importance to her, one might have supposed, and it was taken up
accordingly. Mrs McLay thought the other thing was best--gave much the
brighter colour; but Mrs McRea declared for the madder, because,
instead of fading, it grew prettier the longer it was worn and the
oftener it was washed. But each had enough to say about it; and this
lasted till the lads and little Flora came in from their play, and
Shenac busied herself with them till tea was ready. After tea they had
worship, and sung a little while, and then they went home.
"Oh, what a long day this has been!" said Shenac, as they came in.
"Yes; I fancied you were a little weary of it all," said Hamish.
"It would be terrible to be condemned to do nothing but visit all one's
life. It is the hardest work I ever undertook--this doing nothing,"
said Shenac.
Hamish laughed.
"Well, there is comfort in knowing that you have not had much of that
kind of work to do in your lifetime, and are not likely to have."
There were several things to attend to after coming home, and by the
time all these were out of the way the children had gone to bed, and
Hamish and Shenac were alone.
"I may as well speak to Hamish to-night," said Shenac to herself. "Oh
dear! I wish it were well over. If Hamish says it is right to go, I
shall be sure I am right, and I shall not be afraid. But I must go--I
think it will be right to go--whether Hamish thinks so or not. Hamish
can do without me; but how shall I ever do without him?"
She sat looking into the fire, trying to think how she should begin, and
started a little when Hamish said,--
"Well, Shenac, what is it? You have something to tell me."
"I am going to ask you something," said his sister gravely. "Do you
think it is wrong for me to wish to go away from home--for a while, I
mean?"
"From home? Why? When? Where? It all depends on these things," said
Hamish, laughing a little.
"Hamish, what should I do?" asked his sister earnestly. "I cannot do
much good by staying here, can I? Ought I to stay? Don't tell me that
I ought not to go away--that you have never thought of such a thing."
"No, I cannot tell you that, Shenac; for I have thought a great deal
about it; and I believe you ought to go--though what we are to do
without you is more than I can tell."
So there were to be no objections from Hamish. She said to herself that
was good, and she was glad; but her heart sank a little too, and she was
silent.
"You have been thinking about us and caring for us all so long, it is
time we were thinking what is good for you," said Hamish.
"You are laughing at me, Hamish."
"No, I am not. I think it would be very nice for us if you would be
content to stay at home and do for us all as you have been doing; but it
would not be best for you."
"It would be best for me if it were needful," said Shenac eagerly; "but,
Hamish, it is not much that I could do here now. I mean Allister and
Shenac Dhu will care for you all; and just what I could do with my hands
is not much. Anybody could do it."
"And you think you could do higher work somewhere else?"
"Not higher work, Hamish. But I think there must be work somewhere that
I could do better--more successfully--than I can do on the farm. Even
when I was doing most, before Allister came, Dan could go before me when
he cared to do it. And he did it so easily, forgetting it all the
moment it was out of his hand; while I vexed myself and grew weary
often, with planning and thinking of what was done and what was still to
do. I often feel now it was a wild thing in us to think of carrying on
the farm by ourselves. If I had known all, I would hardly have been so
bold with Angus Dhu that day."
"But it all ended well. You did not undertake more than you carried
through," said Hamish.
"No; it kept us all together. But, Hamish, I often think that Allister
came home just in time. If it had gone on much longer, I must either
have given out or become an earth-worm at last, with no thought but how
to slave and save and turn everything to account."
"I don't think that would ever have happened, Shenac," said her brother.
"But I think it was well for us all, and especially for you, that
Allister came home just when he did."
"I don't mean that field-labour may not in some cases be woman's work.
For a girl living at home, of course, it must be right to help in
whatever way help is needed; but I don't think it is the work a woman
should choose, except just to help with the rest. Surely I can learn to
do something else. If I were to go to Christie More, she could find a
place of some kind for me. Don't you mind, Hamish, what she once said
about our going with her to M---, you and me? Oh, if we could only go
together!"
But Hamish shook his head.
"No, Shenac. It would be useless for me. I must be far stronger than I
am now to undertake anything of that kind. And you must not be in a
hurry to get away. You must not let Shenac think you are running away
from her. Wait a while. A month or two will make no difference, and by
that time the way will open before us. I don't like the thought of your
taking any place that Christie More could get for you. You will be far
better at home for a while."
"But, Hamish, you really think it will be better for me to go?"
"Yes--some time. Why should you be in haste? Is there any reason that
you have not told me why you should wish to go?"
Shenac did not answer for a moment.
"Is it about Evan, Shenac?" asked her brother. "That could never be, I
suppose."
"Who told you, Hamish? No; I think it could never be. Allister would
like it, and Shenac Dhu; and I suppose to folk generally it would seem a
good thing for me. But I don't like Evan in that way. No, I don't
think it could ever be."
"Evan will be a rich man some day, Shenac; and you could have it all
your own way there."
"Yes; Allister said that to me once. They all seem to think I would
like to rule and to be rich. But I did not think you would advise me
because of that, Hamish, or because Evan will be a rich man."
"I am not advising you, Shenac," said Hamish eagerly. "If you cared for
Evan it would be different; but I am very glad you do not."
"I might come to care for him in time," said Shenac, a little wearily.
"But I never thought about him in that way till--till Angus Dhu spoke to
me."
"Angus Dhu!" exclaimed Hamish.
"Yes--and frightened me out of my wits," said Shenac, laughing a little.
"I never answered a word, and maybe he thinks that I am willing.
Allister spoke about it too. Would it please you, Hamish? I might come
to like him well enough, in time."
"No, Shenac. It would by no means please me. I am very glad you do not
care for Evan--in that way. I would not like to see you Evan's wife."
There was not much said after that, though they sat a long time together
in the firelight.
"Did I tell you that I had a letter from Mr Stewart to-day, Shenac?"
Hamish asked at last.
"No," said Shenac; "was he well?"
"He has a call to be minister of the church in H---, and he is to go
there soon; and he says if he can possibly do it he will come this way.
It will be in six weeks or two months, if he comes at all."
Shenac said nothing to this; but when Hamish had added a few more
particulars, she said,--
"Perhaps it may seem foolish, Hamish, but I want to go soon."
"Because of Evan?" asked her brother.
"Partly; or rather, because of Angus Dhu," she said, laughing. "And
Allister and Shenac would like it."
"But they would never urge it against your will."
"No; I suppose not. But it is uncomfortable; and, Hamish, it is not
impossible that I might let myself be persuaded."
Hamish looked grave.
"I don't know but it is the best thing that could happen to me," Shenac
continued. "I am not fit for any other life, I am afraid. But I must
go away for a while at any rate."
Hamish said nothing, though he looked as if he had something to say.
"If you are willing, Hamish, it will go far to satisfy Allister. And I
can come back again if I should find nothing to do."