"AYONT THE ISLE OF SKYE."
"Cleverley Rectory.
"August 3rd.
"My dear Syl,--
"I found your letter very good reading. Thinking of you far away in
Ultima Thule, in the scenes of that dearest of books to my youth, _The
Pirate_, quite stirs my blood, and the Fitful Head and the Stones of
Stennis come vividly into my mind. By the way, I hope you have `read'
The Pirate. If not, I will send you a shilling copy, that you and
Lucian may remedy the defects of your education. Here we have been
seeing a great deal of the four Haredale girls, and lately something
of their mother, who joined them a few days ago. Lady Haredale is a
wonderful woman. She has nearly made me believe her to be the most
unselfish of people by the cheerful, matter-of-course way in which she
accepts their ruined condition. Lord Haredale is abroad. She and the
two elder girls are to pay some visits, and then join him. Kattern
and Tory are to be sent to their aunt at Silverfold. Miss Carisbrooke
is still with her, and her part in all the strange story I don't
understand. The girls are to go to classes at Saint Etheldred's
School. Tory has brains; but I am afraid she will be a fish out of
water. I should not myself like to have charge of Miss Kattern; nor
indeed of Una, though she is an interesting creature, and might do
well in good hands. Poor child, she is likely to be in very bad ones,
I fear. She has taken a great fancy to Miss Waterhouse, my old
friend, who has been having a holiday here from her work among the
East London wild girls and women. Una seems never to tire of hearing
of them, and has undertaken to sew for them. I hope she may keep up
with anything so practical. As for Amethyst, your father calls her a
fine, brave, _growing_ creature; but what a life lies before her! She
has not half lived out her girlhood, in spite of all her troubles, and
would be ready for all the wholesome interests and natural ambitions
of clever, thoughtful girls. I have put her in the way of some
correspondence-lessons in Latin and mathematics, and supplied her with
the books. She means to work, when she can, with a view to a possible
future. She is anxious to show that she is not all society beauty.
But, dear me, how beautiful she is! I don't see how her mind is to
rival her face, and how she will be thrown away!
"I could find it in my heart to wish she had married the rich baronet;
but your father shakes his head, and says `No.' I believe the whole
family are to meet in the south of France in the winter. Lady
Haredale smiles, and says she can't think what they are going to live
on.
"My love to Lucian. How long do you stay with him?
"Your loving aunt,--
"Margaret Riddell."
Sylvester read this letter as he and Lucian lay on the short fine turf
of a bluff headland in the Isle of Orkney, not far from Kirkwall,
looking over the northern sea, now blue and dancing in summer sunshine.
The air was sweet, clear, and bracing; white sea-birds floated over the
sparkling waves; a lark sang high in the pure sharp air; the charm of
spring had hardly yet departed from the far advanced summer; tiny
flowers sprinkled the down, and the little hardy black-faced lambs that
cropped them, were still in the prettiest stage of their youth.
"My education is in advance of the shilling copy," said Sylvester,
reading the first sentence of his letter aloud; and then, after a
moment's hesitation, passing it to his companion.
When he had answered Lucian's letter of invitation to join him at Oban,
he had briefly acknowledged the truth of the guess indicated by the
return of the photograph; but since then no word on the subject, so near
the hearts of both, had passed between them.
Lucian had regained much of his usual look and manner, and did not
appear to be occupied with anything but the business of his yacht and
with the places that he had come to look at.
Now he put down his pipe, which he was preparing to re-light, and,
leaning on his elbow, read the letter through, more than once perhaps,
for he was a long time silent. Then he looked up at Sylvester.
"I was a fool," he said, "a fool to be gulled by any evidence against
her denial. I ought to have known her better. I wasn't man enough to
trust her. That's why she has forgotten me."
Though Sylvester had often said as much to himself, the avowal was
startling, in Lucian's slow, clear voice, the accents hardly varying
from those in which a few minutes before he had asked his companion to
give him a light.
"You were so young," he said. "But how--"
"How do I know it now? I don't know. I found it out by seeing her
again. _You_ understand her better."
"I'd give my right hand never to have been forced to meddle with the
matter," said Syl.
"I want to say," said Lucian, "that I'm not a dog in the manger. If you
could get her--I--I--I think it would be the best thing for her. I--
hope you'll try."
"I have no reason to think she could care for me," said Sylvester
hurriedly; "but--well, Lucy--of course you know I shall try--some day.
And thank you."