The season advanced, bringing the due tokens of the approach of summer.
The gales came from the east instead of the west, and then subsided into
mild airs. The mists which had brooded over sea and land melted away,
and, as the days lengthened, permitted the purple heights of the rocky
Saint Kilda to be seen clear and sharp, as the sun went down behind
them. The weed which had blackened the shore of the island at the end
of winter was now gone from the silver sands. Some of it was buried in
the minister's garden as manure. The minister began to have hopes of
his garden. He had done his best to keep off the salt spray by building
the wall ten feet high; and it was thought that just under the wall a
few cabbages might grow; and in one corner there was an experiment going
forward to raise onions. Kate and Adam told the widow, from day to day,
the hopes and fears of the household about this garden; and it was then
that she knew that her son Rollo was now gardener, as he had been head
builder of the wall.
From Rollo himself she heard less and less of his proceedings and
interests. Anxious as she was, she abstained from questioning or
reproving him on the few occasions when he spent an hour with her. She
was aware of his high opinion of himself, and of the point he made of
managing his own affairs; and she knew that there were those next door
who would certainly engross him if anything passed in his mother's house
to make him reluctant to stay there. She therefore mustered all her
cheerfulness when he appeared on the threshold, gave him her confidence,
made him as comfortable as she could, and never asked him whence he had
come, or how long he would stay. She had a strong persuasion that Rollo
would discover in time who was his best friend, and was supremely
anxious that when that time came there should be nothing to get over in
his return to her--no remembrance of painful scenes--no sting of
reproach--no shame but such as he must endure from his own heart.
Strong as was her confidence in the final issue, the time did seem long
to her yearning spirit, lonely as she was. Many a night she listened to
the melancholy song of the throstle from the hill-side, and watched the
mild twilight without thinking of sleep, till was silent; and was still
awake when the lark began its merry greeting to the dawn which was
streaking the east. Many a day she sat in the sun watching the pathways
by which she hoped her son might come to her; and then perhaps she would
hear his laugh from behind the high garden wall, and discover that he
had been close at hand all day without having a word to say to her. How
many true and impressive things passed through her mind that she thought
she would say to him! But they all remained unsaid. When the
opportunity came she saw it to be her duty to serve him by waiting and
loving, feeling and trusting that rebuke from God was the only shock
which would effectually reach this case, and reserving herself as the
consoler of the sinner when that hour should arrive.
As for the other parties, they were far too busy--far too much devoted
to each other to have any time to spare for her, or any thought, except
when the children were wished out of the way, or when the much more
ardent desire was indulged that her house could be had for the residence
of Lady Carse and her maid. In spite of all the assurances given to
Lady Carse that her presence and friendship were an unmixed blessing,
the fact remained that the household were sadly crowded in the new
dwelling. There was talk, at times, of getting more rooms built: but
then there entered in a vague hope that the widow's house might be
obtained, which would be everything pleasant and convenient. At those
times she was thought of, but more and more as an obstruction--almost an
intruder. Now and then, when she startled them by some little act of
kindness, they remarked that she was a good creature, they believed,
though they considered that there was usually something dangerous about
people so very reserved and unsociable.
One day this reserved and unsociable person volunteered a visit to her
astonished neighbours. She walked in, in the afternoon, looking rather
paler than usual, and somewhat exhausted. Mr Ruthven was outside the
door, smoking his pipe after dinner. He came in with the widow, and
placed a stool for her. His wife was not in the room. Lady Carse was
lying on the settle, flushed and apparently drowsy. She opened her eyes
as Annie and the minister entered, and then half-closed them again,
without stirring.
"Yes, I have been walking," said the widow, in answer to Mr Ruthven's
observation. "But it is not that that has tired me. I have been only
as far as Macdonald's. But, sir, I must go further to-night, unless I
can interest you to do what must be done without loss of time."
The minister raised his eyebrows, and looked inquiringly. "I have
learned, sir, that from this house invitations have been sent to
smugglers to begin a trade with these islands, and that it is about to
begin; and that this has been done by corrupting my son. I see well
enough the object of this. I see that Lady Carse hopes to escape to the
main by a smuggling vessel coming to this coast. I can enter into this.
I do not wonder at any effort the poor lady makes--"
"You insufferable woman!" cried Lady Carse, starting up from her
half-sleep with a glowing face and a clenched hand. "Do you dare to
pity me?"
"I do, madam: and I ask of you in return--I implore you to pity me.
This is the bitterest day to me since that which made my boy fatherless.
I have this day discovered that my fatherless boy has been corrupted by
those who--"
"I do not approve of innuendo," declared Mr Ruthven. "I recommend you
to name names."
"Certainly, sir. My son has been made a smuggler by the persuasion and
management of Lady Carse; and, as I have reason to believe, sir, with
your knowledge."
"Here is treachery!" cried Lady Carse. "We must make our part good. I
will--I know how--"
She was hastening out, when the minister stopped her at the door. She
made some resistance, and Annie heard her say something about a pistol
on the top of the bed, and the wonder if her father's daughter did not
know how to use it.
Even in the midst of her own grief, Annie could not but remark to
herself how the lady's passions seemed to grow more violent, instead of
calming down.
"You had better go, Mrs Fleming," said Mr Ruthven. "Make no
disturbance here, but go, and I will come in and speak to you."
"How soon?" Annie anxiously enquired.
"As soon as possible--immediately. Go now, for Lady Carse is very
angry."
"I will, sir. But I owe it to you to tell you that the adventure is put
an end to. I have been to Macdonald's and told him, speaking as Rollo's
mother, of the danger my son was in; and Macdonald will take care that
no smuggling vessel reaches this coast to-night or in future."
"Go instantly!" exclaimed Mr Ruthven, and, seeing Lady Carse's
countenance, Annie was glad to hasten out of her reach.
The widow sat down on the threshold of her cottage awaiting the
minister. Her heart throbbed. A blessing might be in store at the end
of this weary day. Good might come out of evil. She might now have an
opportunity of appealing to her minister--of opening her heart to him
about the cares which she needed to share with him, and which should
have been his cares as pastor. She trusted she should be enabled to
speak freely and calmly.
She prayed that she might; but her body was exhausted, so that she could
not overcome to her satisfaction the agitation of her mind. It did not
mend the matter that she was kept waiting very long; and when Mr
Ruthven came out at his own door, it was with some difficulty that Annie
rose to make respectful way for him.
"Be seated," said Mr Ruthven, in a tone of severity; "I have much to
say to you."