_THE FIRST MORNING IN THE GLEN._
DO you know the joyous feeling of opening your eyes on the first morning
after your arrival among new scenes, and of seeing the landscape, which
has been shrouded by darkness on the previous evening, lying clear and
calm in the bright morning sunlight?
This was Blanche Clifford's experience as she stood at an eastward
window, with an eager face, straining her eye across miles of moorland,
which undulated far away, like purple seas lying in the golden light.
Away, and up and on stretched the heather, till it seemed to rear itself
into great waves of rock, which stood out clear and distinct, with the
sunlight glinting into the gray, waterworn fissures, lighting them up
like a smile on a wrinkled face. And beyond, in the dim distance, hills
on hills are huddled, rearing themselves in dark lowering masses against
the blue sky, like the shoulders of mighty monsters in a struggle for
the nearest place to the clouds. For many weeks Blanche had been
dreaming dreams and seeing visions of this scene, as she sat in her
London schoolroom. "And this is Glen Eagle!" she murmured, with a
satisfied sigh, when at last she turned her eyes from the more distant
landscape, and climbing into the embrasured window of the quaint old
room in which she awoke that morning, leant out to try and discover what
sort of a building this new home might be. A perpendicular, gaunt wall,
so lichen-spotted that it seemed as if the stones had taken to growing,
was all that she could see; and under it there stretched a smooth grassy
slope, belted by a grove of ancient ash-trees. A pleasant breeze,
wafting a delicious scent of heather, came in at the open window, and
played among Blanche's curls, reminding her how delightful it would be
to go out under the blue sky; so she ran off in search of her papa, that
she might begin her explorations at once.
Mr. Clifford, Blanche's father, was very fond of sport, and generally
spent the autumn months on the moors, either in Ireland or Scotland.
Hitherto his little motherless daughter had not accompanied him on any
of his journeys, but had been left to wander among trim English lanes,
or to patrol the parade of fashionable watering-places, under the
guardianship of her governess, Miss Prosser. This year, however, Blanche
had been so earnest in her entreaties to be taken among the hills, that
her father had at last yielded, and it was arranged that she should
accompany him to Glen Eagle, where he had taken shootings. Miss Prosser
looked on the projected journey to the Highlands of Scotland as rather a
wild scheme for herself and her little charge, having no special
partiality for mountain scenery, and a dislike to change the old
routine. But to Blanche, the prospect was full of the most delicious
possibilities; the unknown mountain country was to her imagination an
enchanted land of peril and adventure, where she could herself become
the heroine of a new tale of romance. The "History of Scotland" suddenly
became the most interesting of books, and the records of its heroic days
were studied with an interest which they had never before excited. In
the daily walks in Kensington Park, on hot July afternoons, Blanche
Clifford wove many a fancy concerning these autumn days to be; but in
the midst of all her imaginings, as she peopled the hills and valleys of
Stratheagle with followers of the Wallace and the Bruce lurking among
the heather, with waving tartans and glancing claymores, she did not
guess what a lowly object of human interest was to be the centre of all
her thoughts.
On the evening of the 9th of August Blanche stood with her governess on
the platform of the Euston Station, ready to start by the crowded Scotch
mail. Mr. Clifford having seen to the travelling welfare of his dogs,
proceeded to arrange his little party for the night. The shrill whistle
sounded at last, and they were soon whirling through the darkness on
their northern way. The long railway journey was broken by a night's
rest at a hotel, which Blanche thought very uninteresting indeed, and
begged to be allowed to go on with her papa, who left her there. After
the region of railways was left behind, there was a journey in an old
mail-coach, which seemed to Blanche to be at last a beginning of the
heroic adventures, as she spied a little girl of her own size scaling a
ladder to take her place in one of the outside seats, to all appearance
delightfully suspended in mid-air. She was about to follow in great
glee, when she was pulled back by Miss Prosser, and condemned to a dark
corner inside of the coach, where a stout old gentleman entirely
obstructed her view. Neither was Blanche a pleasant companion; she felt
very restless and rebellious at her unhappy fate, and every time the
coach stopped and she was allowed to put her head out of the window for
a few precious minutes, she cast envious glances at the happy family
whose legs dangled above.
The coach stopped at last to change horses at a low white inn, and
Blanche's delight was great to recognise her father's open carriage
waiting to take them to Glen Eagle, which was still many miles distant.
The change was delicious, Blanche thought as they were driven swiftly
along the white, winding road, round the base of hills higher than she
had ever seen, through dark pine forests, which cast solemn shadows
across the road, along sea-like expanses of moor, stretching out on
either side. Blanche was lost in wonder and delight at those first
glimpses of the mountain-land of her dreams. Her geographical inquiries
were most searching, and her governess had to acknowledge ignorance when
her pupil wished to identify each hill with the mountain-ranges depicted
on a map-drawing, which Blanche had made in view of the journey. They
were still several miles from their destination, when a heavy white
cloud of mist came coiling round the hills, creeping along the lower
ridges of rock as if it started to reach the top, like some thinking
creature possessed with an evil purpose. At first the mist seemed only
to add an additional charm to the wild landscape in Blanche's eyes.
"O Miss Prosser!" she exclaimed, in great glee, "isn't it so pretty? It
seems as if the fleecy clouds that live in the sky had come to pay a
visit to the moors, and were going to take possession of everything."
"Why, Blanche, how fanciful you are! It is nothing more nor less than
that wretched wetting Scotch mist one hears of. Come, child, and get
into your furs. How thoughtful of Ellis to have brought them. Commend me
to Devonshire and muslins at this season of the year," said Miss
Prosser, as she drew the rug more closely around her, and shrugged her
shoulders.
The mist was creeping silently over the valley, and coming nearer and
nearer, till at last there seemed hardly enough space for the horses to
make their way through, and Blanche thought matters looked very
threatening indeed. Seating herself by Miss Prosser's side with a
shiver, she said, in a frightened tone, "I do wish papa were here.
These clouds look as if they meant to carry us right up with them. Don't
you begin to feel rather frightened, Miss Prosser?"
When her governess suggested that the carriage should be closed, Blanche
felt rather relieved on the whole, and becoming very quiet and
meditative, finally fell fast asleep, curled up on one of the seats,
from whence she was carried by her father, when the carriage reached its
destination. She never thoroughly awoke till the bright morning sun came
streaming in at the curtainless, deep mullioned window of the old
Highland keep where she found herself.
Attached to the shootings of Glen Eagle was a half-ruinous castle, which
Mr. Clifford had put into a sort of repair, fitting up a part of the
building for the use of his household, though there was still many an
unused room, dim with the dust of years, among the winding passages and
cork-screw stairs. In old times it had been a fortified place, and
Scottish chieftains had reigned there, and from its grey towers kept
watch and ward over the strath, where were scattered the dwellings of
the clansmen. It stood in the heart of the glen, rearing itself grim and
gaunt and grey, surrounded by a massive wall, which had once been for
defence, but was ruinous now, and pleasant turf sloped down from the
castle, and flourished along its cope.
Though so long untenanted, there were still some remains of its ancient
furnishings, which the Highland lord on whose land it stood left
unmolested, in honor of the home of his ancestors. In the large
dimly-lighted entrance-hall, there hung many relics of the olden time.
Dirks and claymores that had done deadly work long ago, were beautifully
arranged in various patterns, on the dark panelled walls; numberless
trophies from the glen were ranged round--stately stags' heads with
branching horns, and outspread wings of mountain birds; and a fox too,
whose glass eyes seemed to leer as cunningly as the original orbs when
they cast longing glances at the feathered inhabitants of the farm-yard.
Blanche had descended the broad staircase, and now gazed timidly round
at these strange ornaments of the ancient hall. She felt as if she could
not endure the leer of the fox one minute longer, and catching a glimpse
of the pleasant greensward through the great door, which stood open, she
darted out. The mountain breeze had a reassuring effect, and Blanche
felt safe and happy again, as she stood gazing on the fair scene, in
which the bleak and the beautiful strangely blended.
To the left of the castle, on banks which sloped towards the river, were
masses of feathery birk-trees, with their white crooked stems gleaming
in the sun, and through the net-work of green Blanche could catch
glimpses of the river as it took its winding way through the glen. On a
sunny, upland slope, rising from the other side of the river, there were
some corn-fields waving, which were only now yellowing for the late
harvest.
To the right there stretched a great pine forest, with the dark green
spires of fir fringing the horizon; and down in the valley there gleamed
a sheet of water, lying like a looking-glass framed among the heather.
The mist of the previous evening had all cleared away, and the golden
sunlight streamed on hill and glen, showing the tracks of the little
winding brooks, making the white stones gleam, and the water that
rippled through them sparkle like diamonds, lighting up the bright green
patches on the hills, which seemed so alluring in their sun-lighted
hues, that Blanche did not guess how treacherous they might sometimes
prove for unwary feet, and longed to reach them. Here and there a little
cottage seemed to grow out of the heather, scarcely distinguishable but
for the white lime under the brown thatch, and the blue smoke which
curled from its tiny chimney.
The little English maiden gazed in ecstacy on this scene, so new and
strange to her. A delicious feeling of adventure and freedom kept
singing at her heart, as she scampered off round the grey old keep in
search of her papa, for without a companion her happiness was
incomplete. She knew well what she meant to do. Into each of these tiny
cottages she should like to peep, all the bright green places she wanted
to explore, and those gleaming sheep-roads in the heather seemed to have
been made expressly for her. Wherever little English feet could tread,
her father had promised that she might go, and she felt very sure
that her feet would be quite able for anything so pleasant. Her
castle-in-the-air was quite outrivalling in proportions the one that
towered above her, when she heard a voice which brought her quickly back
to real life, with its rules, its proprieties, and its lessons.
"Miss Clifford, this cannot be permitted. Ellis tells me that you have
dressed without her assistance, escaped from your room, and nowhere to
be seen; and after hunting through endless stairs and passages, I find
you here, without your outdoor things, and with boots that were meant
for civilized life. I knew what would happen; no kind of discipline can
be kept up in this wild, lawless place."
Blanche was too exuberantly happy at the moment to be damped by any
rebuke.
"O dear Miss Prosser! I'm so sorry you've had to look for me. I really
couldn't rest in bed. I'm sure it must be quite late, besides; I felt so
wide awake. Has papa had breakfast yet, I wonder? I'm in search of him
now. He promised to take me to the hills, and I want to begin at once."
"My dear child, what are you talking about? Your papa has been gone for
hours. This is the famous 'Twelfth,' you know. He started at sunrise, I
believe, with several gentlemen who arrived yesterday. The barking of
the dogs awoke me, and as I was unable to close an eye afterwards, I got
up, and have been busy helping Ellis to make a schoolroom pleasant and
habitable for us."
"Papa gone!--papa not to be back till evening! How could Ellis be so
cruel as to let me sleep! I wish I had heard the barking of the dogs,"
burst forth Blanche, in grief and dismay.
All of a sudden the glen grew dim to her eyes, and the hot tears came
raining down. Miss Prosser began to act the part of a comforter, and to
make suggestions of breakfast and a pleasant walk in the afternoon when
lessons were over. But Blanche would not be comforted; the proposal of a
walk seemed a mockery to her, when she remembered the adventurous
rambles which she had been planning. She followed her governess with
reluctant steps, casting wistful glances at the moorland as she passed
into the dark hall, where the old fox seemed to leer more cunningly than
ever, as if he were enjoying her disappointment.
"Now, Blanche, dear, haven't I contrived to make our new abode look
wonderfully homelike? Ellis and I have had quite a hard morning's work,
unpacking and arranging, I assure you."
A knot rose in poor Blanche's throat as she looked blankly round. There,
sure enough, she could see, through her tear-dimmed eyes, an exact
reproduction of the London school-room, which she hoped she had left far
behind. On the wall hung the familiar maps and black-board, and the
table was covered with the well-known physiognomies of the school-books
of which she had taken farewell for many a day. Every trace of the glen
was effectually excluded; a low window looked out on the green slope,
and a rising knoll of grass almost shut out the sky.
"I had such difficulty in selecting a room," said Miss Prosser, with a
satisfied glance round her; "but I think I have made a happy choice.
Ellis found one at the other side of the castle, which seemed habitable
enough, but it looked out on that dreary moorland, so I avoided it."
"How can you call it dreary, Miss Prosser? It is the most glorious,
beautiful land I ever saw. Do take a window that looks on it. But I'm
sure papa never meant me to have lessons--I shan't; I can't really stay
indoors; I shall go out and seek papa;" and Blanche finished with a wild
burst of tears, while Miss Prosser sighed over her naughty pupil.
It is very plain to see that Blanche was by no means a perfect little
girl; and as we follow her, we shall be obliged to acknowledge that she
was wilful and wayward often enough. But we are not going to make a
catalogue of Blanche's faults; they will peep out at intervals, and
stare out occasionally, as little girls' faults are apt to do, and not
theirs only; so that we must quite shut our eyes, if we are not to see
them. We need not do that, but with open eyes--though true and kind as
well as open--we shall follow Blanche through these autumn days, and see
what they brought to her.