THE ASSEMBLY.
That same evening Duncan in full dress, claymore and dirk at his sides
and carrying the great Lossie pipes, marched first through the streets
of the upper, then through the closes of the lower, town, followed by
the bellman, who had been appointed crier upon his disappearance. At the
proper stations Duncan blew a rousing pibroch, after which the bellman,
who, for the dignity of his calling, insisted on a prelude of three
strokes of his clapper, proclaimed aloud that Malcolm, marquis of
Lossie, desired the presence of each and every of his tenants in the
royal burgh of Portlossie, Newton and Seaton, in the town-hall of the
same, at seven of the clock upon the evening next following. The
proclamation ended, the piper sounded one note three times, and they
passed to the next station. When they had gone through the Seaton they
entered a carriage waiting for them at the sea-gate, and were driven to
Scaurnose, and thence again to the several other villages on the coast
belonging to the marquis, making at each in like manner the same
announcement.
Portlossie was in a ferment of wonder, satisfaction and pleasure. There
were few in it who were not glad at the accession of Malcolm, and with
every one of those few the cause lay in himself. In the shops, among the
nets, in the curing-sheds, in the houses and cottages, nothing else was
talked about; and stories and reminiscences innumerable were brought
out, chiefly to prove that Malcolm had always appeared likely to turn
out somebody, the narrator not seldom modestly hinting at a glimmering
foresight on his own part of what had now been at length revealed to the
world. His friends were jubilant as revellers. For Meg Partan, she ran
from house to house like a maniac, laughing and crying. It was as if the
whole Seaton had suddenly been translated. The men came crowding about
Duncan, congratulating him and asking him a hundred questions. But the
old man maintained a reticence whose dignity was strangely mingled of
pomp and grace; sat calm and stately, as feeling the glow of reflected
honor; would not, by word, gesture, tone or exclamation, confess to any
surprise; behaved as if he had known it all the time; made no pretence,
however, of having known it--merely treated the fact as not a whit more
than might have been looked for by one who had known Malcolm as he had
known him.
Davy, in his yacht uniform, was the next morning appointed the marquis's
personal attendant, and a running time he had of it for a fortnight.
Almost the first thing that fell to him in his office was to show into
the room on the ground floor where his master sat--the same in which for
ages the lords of Lossie had been wont to transact what little business
any of them ever attended to--a pale, feeble man, bowed by the weight of
a huge brass-clasped volume under each arm.
His lordship rose and met him with outstretched hand. "I am glad indeed
to see you, Mr. Crathie," he said, "but I fear you are out too soon."
"I am quite well since yesterday, my lord," returned the factor, his
face shining with pleasure. "Your lordship's accession has made a young
man of me again. Here I am to render account of my stewardship."
"I want none, Mr. Crathie--nothing, that is, beyond a summary statement
of how things stand with me."
"I should like to satisfy your lordship that I have dealt
honestly"--here the factor paused for a moment, then with an effort
added--"by _you_, my lord."
"One word," said Malcolm--"the last of the sort, I believe, that will
ever pass between us. Thank God we had made it up before yesterday! If
you have ever been hard upon any of my tenants, not to say unfair, you
have wronged me infinitely more than if you had taken from me. God be
with me as I prefer ruin to wrong! Remember, besides, that my tenants
are my charge and care. For you, my representative, therefore, to do one
of them an injury is to do me a double injury--to wrong my tenant, and
to wrong him in my name."
"Ah, my lord, you don't know how they would take advantage of you if
there were nobody to look after your interests."
"Then do look after them, sir. It would be bad for them to succeed, as
well as crippling to me. Only be sure, with the thought of the righteous
God to elevate your sense of justice, that you are in the right. If
doubtful, then give in. And now, if any man thinks he has cause of
complaint, I leave it to you, with the help of the new light that has
been given you, to reconsider the matter, and where needful to make
reparation. You must be the friend of my tenant as much as of his
landlord. I have no interests inimical to those of my tenants. If any
man comes to me with complaint, I will send him to re-state his case to
you, with the understanding that if you will not listen to him he is to
come to me again, when I shall hear both sides and judge between. If
after six months you should desire me to go over the books with you, I
will do so. As to your loyalty to my family and its affairs, of that I
never had a shadow of suspicion." As he ended Malcolm held out his hand.
The factor's trembled in his strong grasp.
"Mistress Crathie is sorely vexed, my lord," he said, rising to take his
leave, "at things both said and done in the dark."
Malcolm laughed. "Give Mrs. Crathie my compliments," he said, "and tell
her a man is more than a marquis. If she will after this treat every
honest fisherman as if he might possibly turn out a lord, she and I
shall be more than quits."
The next morning he carried her again a few mackerel he had just caught,
and she never forgot the lesson given her. That morning, I may mention,
he did not go fishing alone, but had a lady with him in the dinghy; and
indeed they were together, in one place and another, the most of the
day--at one time flying along the fields, she on the bay mare and he on
Kelpie.
When the evening came the town-hall was crammed--men standing on all the
window-sills--and so many could not get in that Malcolm proposed they
should occupy the square in front. A fisherman in garb and gesture, not
the less a gentleman and a marquis, he stood on the steps of the
town-hall and spoke to his people. They received him with wild
enthusiasm.
"The open air is better for everything," he began. "Fishers, I have
called you first, because you are my own people. I am and shall be a
fisherman--after such fashion, I trust, as will content my old comrades.
How things have come about I shall not now tell you. Come, all of you,
and dine with me, and you shall hear enough to satisfy at least lawful
curiosity. At present my care is that you should understand the terms
upon which it is possible for us to live together as friends. I make no
allusion to personal friendships. A true friend is for ever a friend.
And I venture to say my old friends know best both what I am and what I
shall be. As to them, I have no shadow of anxiety. But I would gladly be
a friend to all, and will do my endeavor to that end.
"You of Portlossie shall have your harbor cleared without delay."
In justice to the fishers I here interrupt my report to state that the
very next day they set about clearing the harbor themselves. It was
their business--in part, at least, they said--and they were ashamed of
having left it so long. This did much toward starting well for a new
order of things.
"You of Scaurnose shall hear the blasting necessary for your harbor
commence within a fortnight; and every house shall ere long have a small
piece of land at a reasonable rate allotted it. But I feel bound to
mention that there are some among you upon whom, until I see that they
carry themselves differently, I must keep an eye. That they have shown
themselves unfriendly to myself, in my attempts to persuade them to what
they knew to be right, I shall endeavor to forget, but I give them
warning that whoever shall hereafter disturb the peace or interfere with
the liberty of my people shall assuredly be cast out of my borders, and
that as soon as the law will permit.
"I shall take measures that all complaints shall be heard, and all save
foolish ones heeded; for, as much as in me lies, I will to execute
justice and judgment and righteousness in the land. Whoever oppresses or
wrongs his neighbor shall have to do with me. And to aid me in doing
justice I pray the help of every honest man. I have not been so long
among you without having in some measure distinguished between the men
who have heart and brain, and the men who have merely a sense of their
own importance; which latter class, unhappily, always takes itself for
the former. I will deal with every man as I find him. I am set to rule,
and rule I will. He who loves righteousness will help me to rule: he
who loves it not shall be ruled or depart."
The address had been every now and than interrupted by a hearty cheer:
at this point the cheering was greatly prolonged: after it there was no
more. For thus he went on:
"And now I am about to give you proof that I mean what I say, and that
evil shall not come to the light without being noted and dealt with.
"There are in this company two women--my eyes are at this moment upon
them where they stand together. One of them is already well known to you
all by sight: now you shall know, not what she looks, but what she is.
Her name, or at least that by which she goes among you, is Barbara
Catanach. The other is an Englishwoman, of whom you know nothing. Her
name is Caley."
All eyes were turned upon the two. Even Mrs. Catanach was cowed by the
consciousness of the universal stare, and a kind of numb thrill went
through her from head to foot.
"Well assured that if I brought a criminal action against them it would
hang them both, I trust you will not imagine it revenge that moves me
thus to expose them. In refraining from prosecuting them I bind myself
of necessity to see that they work no more evil. In giving them time for
repentance I take the consequences upon myself. I am bound to take care
that they do not employ the respite in doing mischief to their
neighbors. Without precaution I could not be justified in sparing them.
Therefore those women shall not go forth to pass for harmless members of
society, and see the life and honor of others lie bare to their secret
attack. They shall live _here_, in this town, thoroughly known and
absolutely distrusted. And that they may thus be known and distrusted, I
publicly declare that I hold proof against these women of having
conspired to kill me. From the effects of the poison they succeeded in
giving me I fear I shall never altogether recover. I can prove also, to
the extreme of circumstantial evidence, that there is the blood of one
child at least upon the hands of each; and that there are mischiefs
innumerable upon their lying tongues it were an easy task to convince
you. If I wrong them, let them accuse me, and whether they lose or gain
their suit, I promise, before you for witnesses, I will pay all; only
thereby they will compel me to bring my actions for murder and
conspiracy. Let them choose.
"Hear what I have determined concerning them. The woman Catanach shall
take to her cottage the woman Caley. That cottage they shall have rent
free: who could receive money from such hands? I will appoint them also
a sufficiency for life and maintenance, bare indeed, for I would not
have them comfortable. But they shall be free to work if they can find
any to employ them. If, however, either shall go beyond the bounds I set
she shall be followed the moment she is missed, and that with a warrant
for her apprehension. And I beg all honest people to keep an eye upon
them. According as they live shall their life be. If they come to
repentance, they will bless the day I resolved upon such severe measures
on their behalf. Let them go to their place."
I will not try to describe the devilish look, mingled of contempt and
hate, that possessed the countenance of the midwife as, with head erect
and eyes looking straight before her, she obeyed the command. Caley,
white as death, trembled and tottered, nor dared once look up as she
followed her companion to their appointed hell. Whether they made it
pleasant for each other my reader may debate with himself. Before many
months had gone by, stared at and shunned by all, even by Miss Horn's
Jean, driven back upon her own memories, and the pictures that rose out
of them, and deprived of every chance of indulging her dominant passion
for mischievous influence, the midwife's face told such a different tale
that the schoolmaster began to cherish a feeble hope that within a few
years Mrs. Catanach might get so far as to begin to suspect that she was
a sinner--that she had actually done things she ought not to have done.
One of those things that same night Malcolm heard from the lips of
Duncan--a tale of horror and dismay. Not until then did he know, after
all he knew concerning her, what the woman was capable of.
At his own entreaty, Duncan was formally recognized as piper to the
marquis of Lossie. His ambition reached no higher. Malcolm himself saw
to his perfect equipment, heedful specially that his kilt and plaid
should be of Duncan's own tartan of red and blue and green. His dirk and
broadsword he had new sheathed, with silver mountings. A great silver
brooch with a big cairngorm in the centre took the place of the brass
one, which henceforth was laid up among the precious things in the
little armory, and the badge of his clan in gold, with rubies and
amethysts for the bells of the heather, glowed on his bonnet. And
Malcolm's guests, as long as Duncan continued able to fill the bag, had
to endure as best they might, between each course at every dinner
without fail, two or three minutes of uproar and outcry from the treble
throat of the powerful Lossie pipes. By his own desire, the piper had a
chair and small table set for him behind and to the right of his chief,
as he called him: there he ate with the family and guests, waited upon
by Davy, part of whose business it was to hand him the pipes at the
proper moment, whereupon he rose to his feet--for even he with all his
experience and habitude was unable in a sitting posture to keep that
stand of pipes full of wind--and raised such a storm of sound as made
the windows tremble. A lady guest would now and then venture to hint
that the custom was rather a trying one for English ears, but Clementina
would never listen to a breath against Duncan's music. Her respect and
affection for the old man were unbounded.
Malcolm was one of the few who understand the shelter of light, the
protection to be gained against lying tongues by the discarding of
needless reticence and the open presentation of the truth. Many men
would not tell a lie, yet seem to have faith in concealment; they would
rather not reveal the truth; darkness seems to offer them the cover of a
friendly wing. But there is no veil like light--no adamantine armor
against hurt like the truth. To Malcolm it was one of the promises of
the kingdom that there is nothing covered that shall not be revealed. He
was anxious, therefore, to tell his people at the coming dinner the main
points of his story, and certain that such openness would also help to
lay the foundation of confidence between him and his people. The one
difficulty in the way was the position of Florimel. But that could not
fail to appear in any case, and he was satisfied that even for her sake
it was far better to speak openly; for then the common heart would take
her in and cover her. He consulted, therefore, with Lenorme, who went to
find her. She came, threw her arms round his neck, and begged him to say
whatever he thought best.
To add the final tinge to the rainbow of Malcolm's joy, on the morning
of the dinner the schoolmaster arrived. It would be hard to say whether
Malcolm or Clementina was the more delighted to see him. He said little
with his tongue, but much with his eyes and face and presence.
This time the tables were not set in different parts of the grounds, but
gathered upon the level of the drive and the adjacent lawny spaces
between the house and the trees. Malcolm, in full Highland dress as
chief of his clan, took the head of the central table, with Florimel in
the place of honor at his right hand and Clementina on his left. Lenorme
sat next to Florimel, and Annie Mair next to Lenorme. On the other side,
Mr. Graham sat next to Clementina, Miss Horn next to Mr. Graham, and
Blue Peter next to Miss Horn. Except Mr. Morrison, he had asked none who
were not his tenants or servants, or in some way connected with the
estates, except indeed a few whom he counted old friends, amongst them
some aged beggar-folk waiting their summons to Abraham's bosom; in which
there was no such exceptional virtue on the marquis's part, for, the
poor law not having yet invaded Scotland, a man was not without the
respect of his neighbors merely because he was a pauper. He set Mr.
Morrison to preside at the farmers' tables, and had all the fisher-folk
about himself.
When the main part of the dinner was over, he rose, and with as much
circumstance as he thought desirable told his story, beginning with the
parts in it his uncle and Mrs. Catanach had taken. It was, however, he
said, a principle in the history of the world that evil should bring
forth good, and his poor little cockboat had been set adrift upon an
ocean of blessing. For had he not been taken to the heart of one of the
noblest and simplest of men, who had brought him up in honorable poverty
and rectitude? When he had said this he turned to Duncan, who sat at his
own table behind him with his pipes on a stool covered with a rich cloth
by his side. "You all know my grandfather," he went on, "and you all
respect him."
At this rose a great shout.
"I thank you, my friends," he continued. "My desire is that every soul
upon land of mine should carry himself to Duncan MacPhail as if he were
in blood that which he is in deed and in truth--my grandfather."
A second great shout arose, which wavered and sank when they saw the old
man bow his head upon his hands.
He went on to speak of the privileges he alone of all his race had ever
enjoyed--the privileges of toil and danger, with all their experiences
of human dependence and divine aid; the privilege of the confidence and
companionship of honorable laboring men, and the understanding of their
ways and thoughts and feelings; and, above all, the privilege of the
friendship and instruction of the schoolmaster, to whom he owed more
than eternity could reveal.
Then he turned again to his narrative, and told how his father, falsely
informed that his wife and child were dead, married Florimel's mother;
how his mother, out of compassion for both of them, held her peace; how
for twenty years she had lived with her cousin, Miss Horn, and held her
peace even from her; how at last, when, having succeeded to the
property, she heard he was coming to the House, the thought of his
nearness, yet unapproachableness--in this way at least he, the child of
both, interpreted the result--so worked upon a worn and enfeebled frame
that she died.
Then he told how Miss Horn, after his mother's death, came upon letters
revealing the secret which she had all along known must exist, but after
which, from love and respect for her cousin, she had never inquired.
Last of all, he told how, in a paroxysm of rage, Mrs. Catanach had let
the secret of his birth escape her; how she had afterward made affidavit
concerning it; and how his father had upon his deathbed, with all
necessary legal observances, acknowledged him his son and heir.
"And now, to the mighty gladness of my soul," he said, looking on
Florimel at his side, "my dearly-loved and honored sister--loved and
honored long before I knew she was my own--has accepted me as her
brother, and I do not think she greatly regrets the loss of the headship
of the house which she has passed over to me. She will lose little else.
And of all women, it may well be to her a small matter to lose a mere
title, seeing she is so soon to change her name for one which will bring
her honor of a more enduring reality. For he who is about to become her
husband is not only one of the noblest of men, but a man of genius whose
praises she will hear on all sides. One of his works, the labor and gift
of love, you shall see when we rise from the table. It is a portrait of
your late landlord, my father, painted partly from a miniature, partly
from my sister, partly from the portraits of the family, and partly, I
am happy to think, from myself. You must yourselves judge of the truth
of it. And you will remember that Mr. Lenorme never saw my father: I say
this, not to excuse, but to enhance his work.
"My tenants, I will do my best to give you fair play. My friend and
factor, Mr. Crathie, has confided to me his doubts whether he may not
have been a little hard: he is prepared to reconsider some of your
cases. Do not imagine that I am going to be a careless man of business.
I want money, for I have enough to do with it, if only to set right
much that is wrong. But let God judge between you and me.
"My fishermen, every honest man of you is my friend, and you shall know
it. Between you and me that is enough. But for the sake of harmony and
right and order, and that I may keep near you, I shall appoint three men
of yourselves in each village to whom any man or woman may go with
request or complaint. If two of those three men judge the matter fit to
refer to me, the probability is that I shall see it as they do. If any
man think them scant of justice toward him, let him come to me. Should I
find myself in doubt, I have here at my side my loved and honored master
to whom to apply for counsel, knowing that what oracle he may utter I
shall receive straight from the innermost parts of a temple of the Holy
Ghost. Friends, if we be honest with ourselves, we shall be honest with
each other.
"And, in conclusion, why should you hear from any lips but my own that
this lady beside me, the daughter of an English earl of ancient house,
has honored the house of Lossie by consenting to become its marchioness?
Lady Clementina Thornicroft possesses large estates in the south of
England, but not for them did I seek her favor, as you will be convinced
when you reflect what the fact involves which she has herself desired me
to make known to you--namely, that it was while yet she was unacquainted
with my birth and position, and had never dreamed that I was other than
only a fisherman and a groom, that she accepted me for her husband. I
thank my God!"
With that he took his seat, and after hearty cheering, a glass or two of
wine and several speeches, all rose and went to look at the portrait of
the late marquis.