The folk looking out of their windows in Portie might well wonder what
could be bringing the young ladies of Saughleas into the town on such a
dismal day. Though April was come in, it might have been the wintriest
month of the year; for the wind that met them was dashing the wet sleet
in their faces, and tangling their bright brown curls about their eyes,
till laughing and breathless they were fain to turn their backs upon it
before they were half down the High-street. They were in shelter for a
little while as they crossed through a side street, but the wind met
them again as they went round a corner, and came close upon the sea.
They were going to their aunt's house and a few steps brought them to
the door; but for all the wind and the sleet, they did not seem in haste
to enter. They lingered, taking off their dripping cloaks and
overshoes.
"Auntie will wonder to see us on such a day."
"She'll wonder to see you. She kens that I am not afraid of wind or
rain."
As they lingered the door opened.
"Eh! Miss Dawson and Miss May. Is it you on sic a day? Wha would ha'e
expected to see you--and on your ain feet too. Wet enough they must
be."
"We'll go to the kitchen, Nannie, and no' wet the carpet," said May; and
they staid there chatting with the maid for a minute or two. The
expected greeting met them at the parlour door.
"Eh! bairns! Here on such a day!"
"Papa had to come to the town," said Jean.
"And so we thought we might as well come with him," said May.
"Weel, ye're welcome anyway, and ye're neither sugar nor salt to be
harmed by a drop of rain. But come in by to the fire."
But their tussle with the wind had made the fire unnecessary.
"It's a good thing that your curls are no' of a kind that the rain does
ill with, May, my dear. But you might as well go up the stair and put
them in order now."
"Oh! I needna care. We have only a minute to stay, and it's hardly
worth my while."
"Papa went straight to the inn with the dog-cart, and we only walked
down the High-street. It _is_ a dreary day."
"And we'll need to go to the inn and wait for him. For he said nothing
of coming here," said May.
"But it's likely he'll come for all that. He maistly ay looks in. It's
a pity he came out on sic a day, and him no weel. But I suppose he had
to come. The `John Seaton' sails the day," said their aunt.
The sisters gave a sudden involuntary glance at each other. May
reddened and laughed a little. Her sister grew pale. Their aunt looked
from one to the other, thinking her own thoughts, but she did not let
this appear.
"She mayna sail the day. They have lost some of their men, it is said,
and that may hinder them."
"And the wind and the waves are fearsome," said the elder sister with a
shiver.
"Ay, but the wind is in the richt airt. That wouldna hinder them," said
her aunt; and then she added in a little.
"Willie Calderwood goes as her first mate. That's a rise for him. I
hope he may show discretion. He's no' an ill laddie."
"And he's on a fair way to be a captain now," said May. "So he told
me--in awhile."
"Ay, in a while," said her aunt dryly. "But he has a long and dangerous
voyage before him, and it's no' likely that all who sail awa' the day
will ever come hame again."
The eldest sister was standing with her face touching the window.
"The sea looks fearsome over yonder," said she.
"Ay. But they'll ha'e room enough when once they are outside the
harbour bar, and then the wind will drive them off the rocks and out to
sea; and they are in God's hands."
"Auntie Jean," said the girl turning a pale face toward her, "why do you
say the like of that to-day?"
"It's true the day as it's true ilka day. Why should I no' say it? My
dear, the thought of it is a consolation to many a puir body in Portie
the day."
"But it sounds almost like a prophecy of evil to--to the `John Seaton,'
as you said it. And the sea is fearsome," repeated she, turning her
face to the window again.
"Lassie, come in by to the fire. Ye're trembling with cold, and I dare
say ye're feet are no' so dry as they should be. Come in by and put
them to the fire."
"But we havena long to bide."
However she came at her aunt's bidding, and sat down on a stool, shading
her face with a paper that she took from the table.
"Auntie Jean," said May, "I have seen just such a picture in a book, as
you would make if you were painted just as you are, with your hands
folded on your lap, and your stocking and your ball of worsted beside
you, and your glasses lying on the open book. Look, Jeannie, look at
auntie. Is she not like a picture as she sits now?"
"What's the lassie at now, with her picturing and her nonsense?" said
her aunt, not sure whether she should be pleased with all this. "I'm
just as usual, and so is the room. No more like a picture than on other
days."
She was in full dress--according to her ideas of full dress--and she was
that every day of the year. She had on a gown of some soft black stuff,
the skirt of which was partly covered by a wide black silk apron. A
snowy kerchief was pinned across her breast, and fastened at her neck
with a plain gold brooch, showing a braid of hair of mingled black and
grey. Her cap was made in the fashion worn by the humblest of her
countrywomen, but it was made of the finest and clearest lawn, and the
full "set up" borders were edged with the daintiest of "thread" lace,
and so were the wide strings tied beneath her chin. Not a spot nor a
speck was visible upon it, or upon any part of her dress, nor indeed on
any article which the room contained. She and her room together would
have made a picture homely and commonplace enough, but it would have
been a pleasing picture, with a certain quaint beauty of its own.
"It is that you are so peaceful in here always, and untroubled. That is
what May means when she says it is like a picture in a book. And after
the wind, and the sleet, and the stormy sea, it is quieting and restful
to look in upon you."
"Weel, maybe. But it is the same picture ilka day o' the year, and I
weary of it whiles. And the oftener you look in upon it, the better it
will be for me. What ails the lassie? Canna ye bide still by the
fire?"
For Jean had risen from her low seat, and was over at the window again.
"The clouds are breaking away. It is going to be fair, I think. We'll
need to be going, May, or we may be late. I'll come over to-morrow,
auntie, and good-bye for to-day."
"But, lassie, what's a' your haste? Your father will be sure to come
for you. Bide still where you are."
"I think I'll bide still, anyway," said May. "I am no' going, Jeannie.
I'm no' caring to go."
"Yes, you are coming with me," said her sister sharply. "You must come.
I want to speak to you--and--yes, come away."
May pouted and protested, but she followed her sister to the kitchen
where they had left their cloaks, and they went away together. They
kept for a while in the shelter of the houses nearest the sea, but they
did not speak till they were beyond these. The wind was still high, but
neither rain nor sleet was falling, and they paused a minute to take
breath before they turned to meet it again.
"The `John Seaton' sails the day," said May, turning her laughing face
toward her sister. Jean did not laugh. "As though that werena the very
thing that brought us both out as well as papa, though we said nothing
about it before we came. To the high rocks? But it would be more
sensible like to go to the pier head, and then we might get a chance to
shake his hand and say God bless him. And it's not too late yet."
"No, I'm no' going. It would do no good and it would anger my father."
But May persisted.
"Why shouldna we be there as well as half the town? Papa mightna like
it, but he couldna help it, if we were once there. And ye ken ye never
said good-bye to Willie Calderwood."
"May," said her sister, "when did you see Willie? I mean, when did he
tell you that he was to be first mate of the `John Seaton,' and maybe
captain by and by?"
"Oh! I heard that long ago, and I saw him last night. He came a bit of
the way home with me. He would have come all the way to say good-bye to
you, but he had something to do, that couldna be put off. And I'm sure
he'll expect to see you at the pier to-day."
"But I canna go."