THE COVE.

Rollo brought word that Macdonald and his people had left the eastern

caves, and were now exploring the large northern one called Asdrafil.

It was time the lady was returning to her hiding place.

"O dear!" exclaimed she. "May I not rest under a roof for one night?

Will Macdonald come here again so soon?"

The widow had little doubt he would. He would be popping in at all

times of the day or night till he could learn where his prisoner was.

She could not advise the lady to stay here, if she wished to remain on

the island till the minister came.

"I must," said Lady Carse. "But I dread that cave. I hate it, with its

echoes that startle one every moment, and the rough walls that look so

strangely in the red light of the fire. I hate it. But," she continued

impetuously, "no matter! I hate this place" (looking round with

disgust). "I hate every place that I ever was in. I wish I was dead.

I wish I had never been born. Now don't look at me so piteously. I

won't be pitied. I can't bear to be pitied: and do you think I will let

you pity me? No, indeed, I may have my own troubles. God knows I have

troubles enough. But I would not change places with you--no, not for

all else that God or man could give me. Now what are you smiling at?

Woman, do you mean to insult my misfortunes? I am brought low indeed,

if I am to be smiled at by a hag in a desert--I who once--O! I see; you

don't choose to yield me the small respect of listening to what I say."

Annie was now looking round her cottage to see what she could send down

to render the lady more comfortable in her retreat. She tried to absorb

her own attention in this business till Lady Carse should have exhausted

her anger and become silent. But Lady Carse once again seized the oil

can.

"Pardon me, madam," said Annie, "I cannot spare that, as you know.

Rollo is carrying some things that I hope may make you comfortable. If

you see anything else that you wish for, you shall have it--anything but

my lamp and my oil."

"The oil is the only thing I want; and a small matter it is for me, who

had dozens of wax-lights burning in my house at Edinburgh, and will have

dozens more before I die."

"Your fire must serve you, madam. I give you what I have to bestow. My

light is not mine to give: it belongs to wanderers on the sea. You

cannot think, madam, of taking what belongs, as I may say, neither to

you nor me."

Lady Carse had that in her countenance at this moment which alarmed the

widow for her light; and she therefore desired her son, with authority,

to relieve the lady of the oil can, and trim the lamp ready for night.

Lady Carse, setting her teeth, and looking as malicious as an ill-bred

cur, said that if the light belonged to nobody here nobody else should

have the benefit of it; and attempted to empty the oil upon the hearth.

This was more than Rollo was disposed to permit. He seized her arm with

no gentle grasp, and saved all the oil but a few drops, which blazed

amongst the peats. He moreover told the lady, with an air of

superiority, that he had almost begun to think she had as much wit as

the islanders; but that he now saw his mistake; and she must manage her

own affairs. He should stay with his mother to-night.

It was his mother who, rebuking his incivility, desired him to attend

upon the lady. It was his mother who, when Lady Carse burst away from

them and said she would be followed by nobody, awoke in Rollo something

of the feeling which she herself entertained.

"Carry down these things," she said. "It is too true; as she says, that

every place is hateful to her; and that is the more reason why we should

do what we can to make some comfort in the place she is in."

"But she says such things to you, mother! I don't want to hear any more

such things."

"When people are in torment, Rollo, they do not know what they say. And

she has much to torment her, poor lady! Now go; and let us try to hide

her from Macdonald. If she and the minister can have speech of each

other, I trust she may become more settled in mind. You know God has

made His creatures to differ one from another. There are some that sit

all the more still in storms; and there are others that are sadly

bewildered in tempests: but, if one ray of God's sun is sent to them, it

is like a charm. They stop and watch it; and when it spreads about

them, it seems to change their nature: they lie down and bask in it, and

find content. It may be so with this lady if the minister gives her a

glimpse of light from above."

"She shall not be carried off, if David and I can hide her," declared

Rollo. "One of us must watch the Macdonalds, while the other entertains

the lady."

"While she entertains you, you mean," said Annie, smiling. "She has

many wonderful things to tell to such as we are."

"Not more than we have to tell her. Why, mother, she knows no more--"

"Well, well," said the mother, smiling; "you cannot do wrong in amusing

her to the best of your ability, till she can see the minister, and hear

better things. So go, my son."

Rollo trimmed the lamp; saw that his mother was provided with fuel and

water, and departed; leaving her maternal heart cheered, so that her

almost bare cottage was like a palace to her. She was singing when

Macdonald put his head in, as he said, to bid her good night, but in

fact to see if Lady Carse had come home, David and Rollo acted in turn

as scouts; and from their report it appeared that, though the minister's

boat had not shown itself, there was a blockade of the eastern caves.

The lady's retreat was certainly suspected to be somewhere in this part

of the shore; for some of Macdonald's people were always in sight. Now

and then, a man, or a couple of women, came prying along the rocks; and

once two men took shelter in a cave which adjoined that in which the

trembling lady was sitting, afraid to move, and almost to breathe, lest

the echoes should betray her. The entrance to her retreat was so

curiously concealed by projections of rock, that she had nothing to fear

but from sound. But she could not be sure of this; and she would have

extinguished her fire by heaping sand upon it, and left herself in total

darkness in a labyrinth which was always sufficiently perplexing, if

Rollo had not held her hand. He stepped cautiously through the sand to

the nearest point to the foe, listened awhile, and then smiled and

nodded to Lady Carse, and seemed wonderfully delighted. This excited

her impatience so much that it seemed to her that the enemy would never

decamp. She was obliged to control herself; but by the time she might

speak, she was very irritable. She told Rollo not to grin and fidget in

that manner, but to let her know his news.

"Great news!" Rollo declared. "The sloop which was to bring the

minister and his wife was to lie-to this very night, in a deep cove

close at hand; and the reason for its coming here, instead of into the

harbour, was--the best of reasons for the lady--that Macdonald had fears

that the Macleods who manned the vessel would be friendly to his

prisoner. So the minister and his party were to be landed in the

sloop's yawl; and the sloop was to be quietly brought into the cove

after dark, that the lady, supposed to be still on the island, might not

have _any_ opportunity of getting on board."

This did appear a most promising opportunity of deliverance. The sloop

came round when expected; and, soon after she was moored, Rollo and

David went on their raft, and spoke from it to a man who appeared to be

in command, and who was, after some time, persuaded to think that he

could, for sufficient payment, go so far out of his way as to land a

lady passenger on the main--the lady being in anxiety about her family,

and able to pay handsomely for an early opportunity of joining them.

The negotiation was rather a long one, as some of the points were

difficult to arrange; and the master of the vessel appeared somewhat

careless about the whole matter. But at last Lady Carse's anxious ear

heard the slight splash of the raft approaching through the water; and

then the tall figures of the young men were dimly seen between her and

the sky. Her tongue was so parched that she could not speak the

question which swelled in her heart.

"Come," said Rollo, aloud. "The master will land you on the main. You

had better get on board now, before the sea roughens. Come, they are

looking out for you."

Lady Carse endeavoured to make haste; but her limbs would hardly support

her. Her companions lifted her upon the raft, and one held her steady

while the other paddled. Strong arms were ready on board the sloop to

hoist her up and carry her to a heap of plaids, made into a sort of bed

on deck. In another moment she sprang up, saying that she must speak to

her companions one more word. A sailor who stood over her held her

back; but she declared that she must thank those who had rendered her a

great service. At the bidding of someone who spoke in Gaelic, the

sailor withdrew his opposition, and she tottered to the side of the

vessel, called to Rollo, desired him to give her love to his mother, and

promised that he and David should find that she was not ungrateful.

Rollo and his comrade leaped ashore with a comfortable feeling that

their business was all achieved; but yet with some little regret at

losing the excitements of their late employment, and of the lady's

presence and conversation. They talked her over while eating their

suppers, wondered what rewards she would send, and how angry Macdonald

would be; and they were about to lie down to sleep, when the night air

was rent by such a scream as they had never heard. They ran out upon

the rocks, and there they heard from the sloop shriek upon shriek.

"What is it?" exclaimed David. "They are murdering her!"

"No," said Rollo, after a pause. "They may be up to that, if this is a

trick; but they would not do it here, nor so soon. They could do it

more safely between this and Saint Kilda, with a rope and heavy stone.

No--they are not murdering her, whoever they may be."

"What, then? Who are they?"

"It may be a trick, and that would put the lady in a great passion; and

when she is in a passion, let me tell you, not all the birds in the face

of this rock can make more noise. I am not sure, but I think that is a

passionate scream."

"I wish it would leave off," said David, turning away. "I don't like

it."

"If you don't like it," said Rollo, "I should hardly think she can. I

must see about it. I think it is a trick, and that she is in a

passion."

It was a trick from beginning to end. It was Macdonald's sloop; and

Macdonald himself was on board, prepared to carry his prisoner to Saint

Kilda. The conversation overheard by Rollo in the cavern was a trick.

A similar conversation had been held that day in _every_ cave known to

Macdonald along that part of the shore, in hopes of some one version

being overheard by the lady's accomplices. She had fallen into the trap

very easily.

"And now," said Macdonald to a clansman, "I have nearly done with the

business. _We_ have only to land her in Saint Kilda; and then it will

be the Macleod's affair. I shall be glad to have done with the witch.

I have no wish to carry people anywhere against their wishes; and I

never would, if Sir Alexander Macdonald were not in it. But I shall

have done with the business presently."

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