A gaily-painted canal boat was gliding smoothly and swiftly through the
still waters of the Crinan Canal, which intersects the Mull of Cantire
in Argyleshire. A steep bank of overhanging wood lay on one side, and
on the other an open view stretched toward distant hills.
The day had been showery; drops sparkled upon the leaves, and pattered
down on the boat as she passed beneath the hanging boughs; light clouds
were speeding across the clear blue heavens, and as the sun shone out a
fairy-like rainbow lay along the hill-side.
With a rustling sound the boat cut through the placid water, and for a
time none other broke the silence; the exquisite peace and beauty of the
scene cast a spell upon the party who were passengers on board, and,
different as were the various tones of mind, one feeling seemed now to
pervade the group. During this pause, let us examine the figures
composing it.
That active well-formed man, with good sense and merriment in his clear
kindly eye, and about his firm mouth, is Arthur Hardy. His early life
of laborious self-denial, in support of dependent young brothers and
sisters, has been rewarded with success and present prosperity.
The graceful lounging figure beside him, whose handsome features are
clouded by such a look of inward dissatisfaction, is Edmund Bayntun, the
luxurious and self-indulgent course of whose days lacks the stimulus of
any object to rouse his faculties, brighten his eye, and dispel the
dreamy gloom now habitual to his manner.
He and Hardy were school-fellows, and have unexpectedly met, to their
great mutual pleasure. Edmund has just been introduced to Mrs Arthur
Hardy and her pretty and rather romantic little sister, Helen Grey, and
has been persuaded to join them in a visit they are about to pay to a
hospitable Highland friend, instead of continuing his languid solitary
wanderings.
He and Hardy were soon agreeably engaged in talking over early
recollections and subsequent events; and the genuine kindness and lively
good sense of the whole party tended considerably to overcome Bayntun's
moody feelings, and dissipate the somewhat peevish melancholy in which
he usually indulged.
Towards evening Hardy announced that they must prepare to go on shore,
as they had reached the nearest available landing-place to Glennaclach,
the residence of Mr Stewart. The mountain mists were tinged with
glowing gold, and under the shadow of the dark hill-sides the waters of
the loch looked grey and cold, when the party stepped into the little
boat which came out to meet them. A few passengers of an inferior rank
accompanied them, and were heartily welcomed by the men in the boat in
their wild Gaelic. Suddenly they all seemed to remember that there were
strangers amongst them, and, with a courteousness which might put to the
blush many more cultivated societies, continued their conversation in
English; and addressing Hardy, as the evident head of the party,
volunteered any assistance or information they could give. His plan had
been at once to obtain some vehicle to convey them to his friend's house
in Glennaclach, but this he found to be impossible, as the distance was
considerable, and part of the road liable to be overflowed by the tide.
The only arrangement to be made, therefore, was to pass the night at the
little inn near the landing-place, and proceed the following day on
their visit. So Edmund Bayntun was condemned to spend the evening in an
uncarpeted room, redolent of whisky and tobacco, the fumes of which
ascended from the kitchen, where, as their usual rendezvous was
occupied, the frequenters of the inn were holding their evening
carousal; but the moon shone in a spreading path of silver upon the
waters of the loch as the tide came rippling softly and steadily in, and
he gazed upon it, and actually felt enjoyment. Soon from the party
below rose and swelled a wild and melodious chorus, then a single voice
sang alone, and again the chorus joined in, till it was suddenly hushed,
and, after a little consultation, the landlord came up to ask, in the
peculiarly delicate tone in which the Western Highlanders speak English,
whether the ladies were annoyed by the noise below, as it should cease
immediately if they wished it. Softened as it was, the effect of the
music added much to their enjoyment, and they begged it might not be
checked on their account.
Early the next day, in high spirits, and perfectly refreshed, though
their accommodation had certainly been of the roughest description, the
little party set off up Glennaclach, the gentlemen on foot and the
ladies and carpet-bags in a cart full of straw, drawn by a rough
wild-eyed pony, led by a Highlander equally so.
"Donald's but a daft lad, but he knows the road and will guide ye
safely, so ye'll no be troubled with that," said the mistress of the
inn, as she shook up the straw in the cart so as to form cushions for
the two ladies.
Donald was at first sight what would, in England, be called a lad, till,
on closer inspection, his thick loose curls were perceived to be
mingled, not sparingly, with grey. These he shook down over his wild
light-blue eyes whenever he spoke, but, as he heard the mistress's
remark, he signified his appreciation of her confidence by throwing his
head backwards, and, taking an inverted view of his charge, he opened
his wide mouth and uttered the exclamation "Hech!" with a prolonged
guttural aspiration. Then he addressed himself volubly to the pony in
English and Gaelic indifferently, and not a word would he utter except
for the information of this, his chosen friend and companion, in answer
to any questions put to him.
Merrily they travelled, for the roads in Argyleshire are excellent, and
the jolting of the cart, consequently, much less than they had ventured
to anticipate; so that there was nothing to interrupt their enjoyment of
the varied, always lovely, scenery through which their road lay. Now
they crossed an elevated ridge, where heath and grey rock were mingled
in rich though subdued tints; then they descended through a wood of
fairy birches, whose light foliage quivered against the pure blue sky,
to the margin of the loch, which glistened in the morning sunlight, on
one hand, and the steep grey rock formed a wall on the other, over
which, amongst pines and stunted oaks, the broad heads and short wide
horns of the Highland cattle would occasionally appear. As they
ascended the glen new hills came into view, some apparently of smooth
velvet surface, descending with an easy slope towards the waterside,
where a fringe of varied wood was reflected so clearly that it was
difficult to distinguish it from the reality; others, dark and rugged,
refusing to smile even under the joyous rays of the young day. Bayntun
was less obdurate in his gloom, but he seemed to check himself whenever
he yielded to the enlivening influences of place and circumstances;
while Hardy gave himself up so entirely to the pure pleasure of the
moment, that his chest heaved, and his eyes filled with tears, and he
could have thrown himself down upon the heather in an ecstasy of joy.
"How dark and gloomy that glen looks between the steep mountain and the
round smooth hill on the opposite side of the lake!" exclaimed Helen
Grey.
"What is that glen called, Donald?" asked Mr Hardy.
"Ye ken the name as weel as any other word ye speak, Sandie, so come
away and dinna be wasting your breath with asking idle questions," said
Donald, addressing the pony. Then, giving a leer at Helen from behind
his grizzly locks, he began singing a few words of a Gaelic song; next
he addressed some sentences in the same language to the pony,
accompanied by a chuckling laugh; after which, he tossed back his head
to take another inverted view of the party, and then giving a jerk to
the short bridle by which he led the pony, he nodded to him in a
patronising manner, saying, "Your memory's short, Sandie; but we should
ay pity folks that's weak in mind, and so I'll answer ye. Yon's Glen
Bogie, Sandie," he continued almost in a whisper; "but ye shouldna go
there in the full of the moon, Sandie, for there's sights and sounds in
Glen Bogie that would make a wise man quake and loosen his teeth in his
head, much more a poor daft lad like you, Sandie. Dinna _ye_ gang
there, Sandie, to hear the Campbells come down the glen to cry the
coronach over their dead, and them dead and gone themselves these
hundred years. Ha! ha! Sandie. I heard it once mysel' when the wind
soughed in the trees and the burn roared amongst the stones; and I heard
the rustle of their tartans, and when the moon shone out I saw them.
Hush, Sandie! Whisht, my bonnie man! The sun shines now, and we're no
going to Glen Bogie."
The convulsive jerks he had given to the bridle here made the pony so
restive, that Donald's whole attention was required to quiet him.
"That all sounds very delightful," said Helen, still gazing at the dark
glen which branched off from the wider one up which they were
proceeding.
"Have you a fancy for spectral coronachs, Helen?" asked Hardy, smiling.
"I must go to Glen Bogie," she replied in a very decided tone.
"And what says the little wife?" continued Arthur.
"Oh, by all means give Helen an opportunity of making friends with real
bogies, and in Glen Bogie they must be genuine," answered Mrs Hardy.
"Besides, I cannot help thinking that there really was some ghastly
tragedy enacted about here in which the Campbells were concerned. Glen
Bogie may be the very spot."
"Oh, I hope so," exclaimed Helen, turning quite pale.
Suddenly Donald checked the pony's pace, and his own half-dancing
ambling steps, as, after passing a few thatched cottages roughly built
of stone, they came in sight of a moderately-sized house, with wings
added apparently as they were required; out-buildings and farm-house,
surrounded by stately beech and spreading gene or wild cherry-trees.
Immediately in front of the house, which, like most Highland mansions,
was slated and white-washed, a lawn, shaded by fine trees, sloped
towards the lake, where two boats were moored close to a boat-house;
while the adjoining portion of the slope was laid out in a garden, now
basking in the sunshine.
"Tread lightly, Sandie; there's sorrow and pain at hand," said Donald,
in a tone so mournful and different from the wild, half-scoffing manner
he had before adopted, that a thrill of apprehension ran through the
whole party. "There's sorrow yonder in the house of Glennaclach, and no
cheering welcome for the Sassenach strangers." His keen wandering
glance had discovered one of the boats now moored to the shore, rowed
hastily across the loch a few minutes before, and two figures hurrying
up from it to the house. One of these he knew to be the only doctor in
the glen. There were other signs of alarm and confusion; servants
hastening to and fro, cottagers meeting and pausing as if to ask
questions; and with all his wildness, half of which was but assumed to
excite an interest which flattered his weak intellect, poor Donald was
an acute observer, and sincerely attached to the family of the laird of
Glennaclach, so that he readily took alarm. To the travellers, not
perceiving the tokens by which he formed his suggestion, it had all the
effect of the supernatural.
"Go you forward alone, Misther Hardy," said Donald, addressing him for
the first time; "and if there's a welcome for you, come back and fetch
the ladies, and,"--here he designated Bayntun by a certain contemptuous
turn of the chin towards him.
"But why should you doubt it, Donald?" asked Hardy.
"Go you forward, Misther Hardy, or I maun go myself," repeated Donald
impatiently, and holding the pony firmly, as if determined that he at
least should not proceed.
To humour him, Hardy followed his directions, but as he neared the
house, a sound fell upon his ear which alarmed him; a boyish voice
uttered a suppressed moan of intense suffering, repeated, yet apparently
controlled by an effort. Seeing him pause, one of the group of people
who stood with grief and terror in their countenances outside the door
came towards him.
"Make haste, sir, if you are a doctor and can do him any good. He is
not dead, though I never thought to hear the sound of his voice again
when the tree gave way with him, and I saw the bonnie lad go down over
the crags like a stane."
"What has happened?" inquired Hardy. "I am no doctor, but I will gladly
give any help I can."
Then followed a voluble explanation in Gaelic from the whole group,
interspersed with a few words in English, from which Hardy learned that
one of the laird's younger brothers, in climbing along the crags by the
side of a waterfall, had trusted his weight to a slight tree which gave
way with him, precipitating him into the rocky bed of the foaming
torrent. The doctor was now examining the injuries he had received.
While the women were speaking, a young man appeared at the door and said
a few words to them in a kind but determined tone, which had the effect
of instantly silencing and dispersing them; and he then perceived Hardy.
"Hardy, is this your promised visit? Alone, and at this unfortunate
moment? Not that you are the less welcome," he added, shaking him
warmly by the hand, and leading him into the house.
The gleam of reason which had dictated Donald's suggestion vanished as
soon as Hardy followed it, and he began indulging in crazy merriment at
having produced the excitement and alarm so visible in the faces of the
three remaining strangers. Though Bayntun would not have confessed it,
his imagination was strangely excited, and his nerves shaken, when Hardy
and the young laird came together from the house.
"I am sorry to say that Donald's conjecture was but too correct," said
Arthur; after introducing his friend; "and I have succeeded in
convincing Glennaclach, much against his hospitable inclination, that he
would distress us all by receiving us under such circumstances." He
then briefly explained what had happened, and his own proposition that
they should proceed to Glen Bogie.
"Since you will positively not remain with me, it is some satisfaction
to know that at Glen Bogie, notwithstanding the ill-omened connection it
has with my house, you will meet with a more hospitable reception, if
you do not fear it for its reputation of being haunted," said the young
man. "My boats are at your service to take you there; and I am vexed at
not having the pleasure of myself introducing you to the scenery of the
Glen; but in my mother's present anxiety respecting my brother, I cannot
leave her even for a few hours. His hurts are not dangerous, however,
and I hope to-morrow to be able to bring you all back to my house."
As he spoke, he carefully assisted the ladies to alight from the cart,
returning Donald's reverential salutation kindly, and desiring him to
convey what Donald called the _thravelling_ bags down to the boat.
Helen thought of Fergus McIvor, of course, though nothing could be more
dissimilar from the hero of Waverley than the frank, simple-mannered
young Highlander, who, with kind quiet courtesy, was handing Mrs Hardy
down the sloping lawn. Two men were ready in the boat, which was
carefully spread with plaids, and Mr Stewart, or Glennaclach, as he was
called in a district where the name Stewart is so frequent that it is
absolutely necessary to distinguish the proprietors by the names of
their estates, having given his orders to the men in their native
language, and placed his intended guests comfortably, gave the boat a
shove off from the shore, and lifted his bonnet as a parting salute.
"Now you have seen a real live Highland laird, Helen," said Mrs Hardy,
smiling.
As the men plied their square-handled oars, the young laird called out
something to them in Gaelic, which made them look shy and shake their
heads.
"I want them to sing to you," said he in English; and after some
hesitation, one of them struck up a wild song, which, in spite of the
nasal sound he gave it, was full of beauty. So they glided over the
still waters of the loch, which was--
"All of the dazzling sheen,
Like magic mirror, where slumbering lay
The sun and the sky and the cloudlet grey;
Which heaved and trembled and gently swung;
On every shore they seemed to be hung;
For there they were seen on their downward plain
A thousand times and a thousand again;
In winding lake and placid firth,
Little peaceful heavens in the bosom of earth."
"Where did you learn that, Alice?" inquired Hardy gently, as his wife
concluded these lines, which she murmured rather than pronounced, as she
leaned back in the boat looking down into the water, and rippling it
with her delicate fingers.
"It is in Hogg's `Kilmeny,'" she answered. "You don't know the poem,
Arthur, but we will read it some day. Kilmeny was taken away to the
spirit-land, and allowed to revisit her native Scotland, to show what a
woman can be and what she can do."
"And did she take you with her, Alice?" said her husband.
Mrs Hardy's cheek glowed at the implied compliment.
Soon they entered the little stream which Mr Stewart had pointed out to
them, and truly it was a lovely scene. Although evidently deep, the
water was so transparently clear that each pebble and fibre of weed was
distinctly seen. Trees arched overhead, hanging at times so far across
the stream that it was difficult to manage the oars. Where it widened,
little islands, covered with trees, ferns, and wild-flowers, broke it
into still narrower channels, forming leafy vistas, occasionally
terminating in the blue hills.
"Oh, what is that?" exclaimed Helen, as a large bird rose with heavy
flight from a point of land which they were approaching.
"Hech! yon's ta bhird," commenced one of the rowers, with great
animation; then, checked by the consciousness that, however well he
might be supplied with information regarding the bird, he could not
communicate it in English, he continued in a more subdued tone, "Yon's
ta bhird ye may often see nigh ta wather."
The heron, for such it was, continued to precede them up the stream,
resting on a point of land till they came close to it, and then
majestically and gloomily rising, to alight again. In about an hour the
boat touched a sandy beach, surrounded with magnificent chestnut trees,
amongst which the stream still ran, but so shallow and rocky a's to be
unnavigable.
"And, now, are we in Glen Bogie?" asked Helen.
"Ay, ye may say that," said the man who had before spoken.
With some difficulty they followed him by the brink of the stream, as,
with their bags on his arm, he led the way. The glen became darker and
narrower; gloomy firs, through which the summer wind moaned sadly,
replaced the varied wood; a lofty mountain interposed its precipitous
rocky side between the stream and the sun, which seemed never to shine
on its troubled waters. As if placed as far as possible within the dark
ravine, stood the house of Glen Bogie, and immediately behind it rose a
grove of firs.
"What a beautiful sketch this would make!" said Helen, as they came
suddenly upon a foaming torrent, which, descending the hill-side,
emerged from the rocks, heather, and stunted trees, and fell into the
stream by which they were guided.
"We must have it, Bayntun," said Hardy. "The stream is swollen by
yesterday's rain, and by to-morrow would appear to less advantage."
"I shall gladly attempt to render it justice," answered Bayntun, "but it
must be a work of time."
"If you do not mind remaining, I will take Mrs Hardy and my sister on
to the house and return to guide you, for I am sure they must be tired,"
said Hardy.
Both ladies owned to considerable fatigue, notwithstanding their
enjoyment. In answer to Bayntun's inquiries, their guide assured him
that he would have no difficulty in finding his way to the house alone,
which he preferred.
Hardy and the two ladies then climbed the rocks from which the waterfall
issued, and crossed by an old stone bridge; then again descending to the
stream they had left, they followed it till they arrived opposite to the
house, when they were greeted by furious barking from a number of dogs
which simultaneously rushed from every angle of the building, ranging
savagely up and down the waterside.
They were soon hushed by the appearance of a stout middle-aged woman,
dressed in a gown of dark blue linsey-woolsey and a snow-white cap, who
came out to see what had caused their noise.
"Yon's Mrs Cameron," said the guide; and in answer to her greeting,
which was in Gaelic, and shouted with the full force of her strong vocal
organs, he apparently told her who her guests were, and the cause of
their coming.
"Any from Glennaclach are welcome to my roof," said she in English,
surveying them for a few minutes with her head on one side and her arms
folded across her portly person. "Go you round to the bridge, and I
will meet you; the lads are all away, but they'll be at home the night,
and meantime I will make you as welcome as a lone wife may."
Still shouting to them across the stream, she stepped out firmly over
the loose stones and met them on a high arched stone bridge, bestowing
on each a hearty shake of the hand, and on Hardy a hearty thump on the
shoulders, accompanied by the compliment--
"You've a right honest face, my lad."
She then spoke with respectful interest of the family at Glennaclach.
"There's no race like the Stewarts, meet them when and where you will,"
added she.
Passing by several out-buildings, from which all the dogs rushed forth
again, she led the way to the principal entrance of what was once a
Highland gentleman's mansion, gloomy and desolate as it now looked.
"My daughters are all married and away, and none of the lads has brought
home a bride to take their place," she said, rather sadly, and then
bursting into a loud laugh, she continued--"But I am more than wife to
all of them; look here," and opening a large chest, she drew forth
pieces of cloth and linen of all descriptions. "Spun it all with these
hands, and there's plenty of work in them yet; and see there," she said,
triumphantly pointing to dozens of woollen hose which hung in the wide
chimney of the kitchen, to which she now led the way.
Then remembering that her guests must be tired and hungry, she placed
upon the table oat-cake, milk, and whisky in abundance, heartily
inviting them to partake of them.
The task which Bayntun had undertaken was longer than he had
anticipated. While engaged upon it, his mind recurred more than once to
the hints he had heard of the place he was now in. Donald's apparently
prophetic announcement of the sorrow which had befallen the family they
had intended to visit had also taken a strange hold upon his fancy.
Moreover he was tired and hungry, and whatever ascetics may say to the
contrary, the mind cannot work so healthfully in conjunction with a
feeble body, as with one in such comfortable condition that none of the
reasoning faculties are needed to master its sufferings. In fact, he
was neither more nor less than nervous. The spot in which he was left
was calculated to increase these feelings, so totally lonely and silent,
except the sad music of the breeze in the fir-trees, and the stream
gurgling and rushing down the rocks. Just below him--for, although far
beneath the level of the top of the waterfall, he was some feet above
its base--was a smooth grassy nook, protected from the water by a wall
of black rock, in which was a shallow cave overhung by a weeping birch.
Bayntun had noticed this when he first began his sketch, but as his
sight grew rather dazzled from watching the constant play of the water,
and the sun sank behind the towering mountain, he lost sight of it
altogether. As he concluded his work and prepared to follow his
friends, his steps were arrested by a harsh chuckle unlike any human
voice, but which seemed equally unlike the sound of bird or beast. It
proceeded from the cave in the grassy nook, and so excited Bayntun's
curiosity that he could not refrain from investigating its origin. With
some difficulty he lowered himself down the face of the rock by means of
the large ferns and bushes, and as he neared the cave the sound became
louder and harsher, and expressive of terror. Just as he reached the
spot and extended his hand to hold back the branches which overhung it,
there was a shriek, and a violent rustle from within; and a form sprang
out, passed him, and climbing the rock with the agility of a monkey, by
clutching the boughs with its long lean arms and hands, fled away,
continuing its wild chuckle.
Edmund stood paralysed. It must be something human or supernatural, but
how it came there, and whether its glaring eyes had been fixed upon him
as he sat there believing himself alone, he could not guess. Resolved
not to give way to the strange fears which came crowding into his mind,
he climbed up the rock again, and crossing the bridge, followed, as he
thought, the path described by the Highlander. Instead, however, of
soon finding himself at the farm-house, he lost all view of that or any
other habitation; and pausing for a moment to peer amongst the trees for
signs of a path, he heard again that unnatural chuckle at no great
distance from him.
"Absurd folly!" said he to himself; "it must either be a poor maniac or
some mischievous young mountaineer;" so he turned towards the sound,
pushing his way through the underwood till he perceived an opening in
the wood. There, on the shadowy hill-side, in a magic circle of mossy
grey stones and whins, or furze, he witnessed a ghastly dance of pallid
forms tossing their arms wildly above their heads, and, in the midst of
them, the hobgoblin being which had just escaped from him, its grey
garment fluttering, and its limbs jerking frantically as it bounded from
one to the other of its spectral partners. Edmund paused in
bewilderment.
"This is fearful," he mentally ejaculated. "I confess I don't half like
it."
He then endeavoured to retrace his steps towards the stream, which he
should have followed as a guide towards the house, and at length
discovered it by the sound of its murmuring waters. Hastening on, he
had almost reached the old stone bridge on which Mrs Cameron had
received her guests, when he perceived, as he thought, a tall
Highlander, kilted, plaided, and bonneted, leaning against a tree a
little to the right of the path, in an easy attitude, with one foot
crossed over the other, one hand on his side, and the other supporting
his head. His face was ghastly in its whiteness, and not less so were
his hands and knees, and Bayntun's first impulse was to hasten to his
assistance, believing him to be ill. Greatly was he startled to find,
on reaching the tree against which the figure had leaned so immovably,
that he was gone. Not a trace or sound of him, and in the spot he had
occupied was a twisted thorn, from which some branches had been lopped
off. In Bayntun's excited state of imagination he never suspected the
truth, that these twisted branches, with the light shining through them,
and the white wood showing where boughs had been removed, had formed the
figure he had seen. More than ever impressed with the idea that the
place was haunted, or his own brain affected, he sprang upon the bridge,
and in a few minutes was heartily welcomed into the kitchen of Glen
Bogie, where Mrs Cameron and a stout Highland girl were busily
preparing a substantial and savoury supper.
Soon afterwards voices were heard outside, and home came the "lads," as
Mrs Cameron called her sons.
"Gude Lochaber stock, the whole of them," said she, giving each a hearty
slap on his shoulders as he came in.
And they certainly all did credit to Lochaber, from the eldest, who was
a thoughtful-browed Highlander, to Dugald the youngest, a slight active
lad of nineteen, with mirth and daring in his eye.
The supper was laid out in what had once been the dining-room of the
Campbells of Glen Bogie. When it was concluded, a short consultation
between the mother and sons was carried on in Gaelic, the result of
which was, that the eldest Cameron invited "Misther Hardy and his friend
to take their pipes and whisky in the kitchen along with the rest of
us."
"Might we not come too?" whispered Mrs Hardy, who felt rather oppressed
with the idea of entertaining their hostess, who was rather deaf, in the
dreary parlour.
To the kitchen they all adjourned, where a bright peat-fire glowed on
the ground, in the centre of the wide chimney. Some of the dogs had
crept in actually behind it, and lay dozing with one ear always on the
alert. Wooden settles were placed in the ingle-nook for the young men,
and the guests were accommodated with heavy high-backed chairs. Mrs
Cameron drew her spinning-wheel towards her, and for a few minutes there
were no sounds but its busy hum, and the roaring of the wind down the
chimney, and amongst the old trees, and the ceaseless voice of the burn
chafing in its rocky bed.
"Was there not some sad story of a quarrel between the Campbells and the
Stewarts of this neighbourhood?" asked Helen of the company in general,
very much afraid of hearing her own voice, but still more afraid of
losing the delight of hearing the story, whatever it might be, on the
very spot where the events took place.
"Neighbourhood!" repeated Mrs Cameron, "a neighbourhood should be a
place where neighbours meet as friends, and the Campbells and Stewarts
never can be friends. Did not I see a bonnie bride of the house of
Stewart leave her father's house with a Campbell for her husband, and
was not blood shed even on the threshold? for, as the horses started off
with their white cockades, one of the lads that rode them fell from the
saddle in a fit, and was trampled to death under their feet, and
sickness and Borrow waited on the bride till she was at rest in her
grave. There's no peace not friendship between the Campbells and
Stewarts, and they should not be called neighbours."
"But, mother, the young lady was asking you about the quarrel," said
Dugald, "and not wishing to mend it."
"The young lady is not angered with a foolish old wife," answered his
mother, bursting into her loudest, harshest laugh, and laying her hand
kindly on Helen's. "She will pardon me, for I was born a Stewart, and I
cannot hear with patience when any talk of the natural enemies of my
family. Do you tell how it fell out, Ian, for your English is better
than mine," said she, addressing her eldest son.
It should be remembered, that Gaelic being so universally spoken in the
Western Highlands, English is only acquired in a degree to be spoken
fluently by people of some education, and is pronounced by them with a
softness and delicacy amounting to an appearance of affectation. Ian
Cameron related his story deliberately, and in choice language, giving
each word and idea time to take effect before it was succeeded by
another.
"You will have heard that when the royal house of Stuart lost the day,
the lands of many who had fought for the right were confiscated, and
bestowed as rewards upon the Campbells and others who stood up for might
rather than right. This estate of Glen Bogie was one of them, and with
it the Campbell to whom it was given received favours and authority,
which he used as you would expect from a man that was not born to it,
and had got it by ill means. They that would rule over a Highlander
must find their way to the heart, and must trust him as one honest man
trusts another. Campbell never did that. He knew that he was not
loved, nor welcome, but still there was not a man--from a Stewart to a
McCall--that would have raised a hand against him, except it were in
open fight.
"You will have seen the rocky peak of Skuliahams, which shuts in the
head of Glennaclach, as you came up the Toberdhu; that is the stream
which we call the Blackwater. Just to the right of that peak there is a
pass over the hill, and for eight miles the way is rough and dreary.
Often have I travelled that road by night and day, and with the snow
drifting in my face I have thought never to see my own fireside again.
Campbell had gone by that pass to collect rents, but he did not return
when they expected him. His wife grew alarmed, for she knew the hearts
of the tenants were not with him; so she sent first one, then another,
of his people, and lastly she went herself to watch for them on the
hill-side, whence she could see far up the glen. Singly the people
crossed the hill, but they all returned together, and amongst them they
carried the corpse of Campbell, who had been shot dead in the wood
beyond the hills, which was on the property of a Stewart. The widow
went out to meet them; but she shed no tears nor spoke a word. Some say
she had been _warned_.
"They brought him across the meadow yonder, and carried him up into the
room overhead, and the Campbells came from far and near, and vowed
vengeance upon the Stewarts; and it is said that as they hung up the
dead man's plaid, all stiff with his blood, so they swore to hang up a
Stewart on the spot where Campbell was found dead. There was a show of
law, too; for having fixed their suspicions upon a tenant-farmer like
myself, a man named Stewart, they tried him by a jury--all of
Campbells--and in the wood they hanged him, within sight of six
residences of Stewarts; and watch was kept, day and night, lest the body
should be removed. Vengeance and law they called it, but it was murder;
for before the bones of their victim had whitened on the gibbet, it was
discovered that Campbell had been shot by a foreign soldier who had some
private quarrel with him. Can the Stewarts and Campbells be friends
after that?"
There was a pause, and the young Highlanders sat looking sternly into
the glowing fire. Tramp, tramp, came, heavy steps overhead, as of
several persons moving some heavy burden. Bayntun felt his heart beat
faster. He would not for worlds have let any one suspect it. Even Mrs
Hardy, drew involuntarily nearer to her husband, and Helen's eyes opened
wider, while the most ghastly spectre would not have burst upon her
sight unexpected.
"The lassies are putting the Doctor's room in order for your friend,
Misther Hardy. Maybe he is not used to rough lodging, and it is well
for him that, the Doctor being at the house of Glennaclach to-night, I
can give him the room," said Mrs Cameron.
Dugald made some remark in Gaelic, with a mischievous glance towards
Bayntun, but was sternly checked by his mother. Nevertheless, Bayntun
perceived it, and determined more resolutely than ever not to divulge
the strange sights and fancies which had haunted him.
Night had fairly closed in, and the reflection of the lights in the room
mingled on the window-panes with the other objects outside, just lighted
by a crescent moon, when, as Bayntun glanced towards the window, he
perceived close to it the face of the hideous goblin which had haunted
him in the day, and at the same moment came that fearful chuckle.
"Poor Marie Vhan," said Mrs Cameron, rising and going to the door;
"where has the wild creature been straying?"
"Marie has been naughty to-day," said Dugald, speaking in English from
fear of another rebuke from his mother: "she has been tossing and
tearing the fleeces which were left to dry upon the whins."
"Poor body," rejoined Mrs Cameron. "It is a poor daft lassie. Her
father is one of our shepherds, and it is a sad trouble to a poor man to
have a feckless child that can do naught for herself, so she bides with
me when she likes, and I give her food and shelter; but she will not
stay long in any place."
As she spoke, one of the servant girls opened another door, and began
scolding the child in no gentle terms for the mischief she had done,
which was serious in its way, for the fleeces had been prepared for
spinning in long loose bands, and were required for her mistress's
immediate use. Instantly the wild creature fled chuckling into the
wood, and up the dark dreary glen.
"It is an evil deed you have done, Lizzie, to drive the poor body from
the door with your angry tongue," said the mistress, as she resumed her
place at the wheel.
Lizzie was out of hearing, and could not have understood had she been in
the room, but the expression of disapprobation relieved Mrs Cameron's
indignant feelings.
Bayntun's cheek glowed in the firelight at the solution of the terrific
goblin dance which had so shaken his nerves. Fortified by a good
sapper, and cheered by the sound of many voices, he now felt himself
proof against bogies of all kinds, and at an early hour the party
dispersed for the night. The home-made tallow candle which lighted
Edmund's spacious and gloomy apartment rendered the outlines of the
dark, heavy furniture more massive and unshapely than they really were.
It had been the state-room of the mansion, and was now let to a doctor,
who, though possessed of considerable skill, had so lost his reputation
by his intemperate habits, that he was driven to conceal his disgrace in
this unfrequented glen, where his services were valued and repaid, and
his failings easily overlooked. In a large closet adjoining were kept
the phials and jars containing his supplies of drugs, etc, and from this
closet was a narrow staircase, with a door by which the Doctor could
come in and go out without disturbing the family.
"It was in this room that the Campbells cried the coronach over their
dead, and here the jury sat to try poor Stewart, and the dead man's
plaid was hung in that closet, and by that staircase they brought
Stewart in--the false-hearted murderers!" exclaimed Dugald Cameron; and
having courteously begged the guest to ask for anything that was wanting
for his comfort and repose, he left him to rest.
Completely yet healthfully fatigued, Edmund soon fell asleep. How long
he slept, or whether he was still dreaming, he knew not, but distinct to
his vision appeared the figure of a man leaning against the doorway of
the closet adjoining his bedroom, from which shone a quivering spectral
light. His plaid hung heavily, as if steeped in moisture, round his
tall gaunt form. His bonnet was pressed down upon his brows, and under
its shade his face looked pale and distorted by pain or sorrow, as he
stood motionless, gazing intently upon the sleeper.
"This is a dream. The mysterious figure in the wood is haunting my
memory. I will not give way to these fancies," said Bayntun, mentally.
"It is a very uncomfortable dream, too," continued he, as the figure,
still keeping its glazy eyes fixed upon his face, moved slowly towards
him. The old floor creaked under his steps. "Dreams are often
suggested by some real sound associating itself with the previous train
of our thoughts. If I could but rouse myself, this phantom would be
dissipated." Yet his eyes felt perfectly wide open, and there was none
of the painful sense of oppression on the eyelids and restraint upon the
tongue which usually attends an unpleasant dream. Nearer and nearer
came that pale, haggard face, till the sound of his breathing became
audible. "That is myself breathing quick, and no wonder," thought he.
"Edmund Bayntun, why don't you rouse yourself? What a fool you are!"
and uttering the last sentence with the full strength of his voice,
Edmund started up, and at the same moment the spectre staggered back,
exclaiming--
"Ay, sirs! That is not a civil way to speak to a gentleman, more
especially finding himself turned out of his own bed when he comes home
to it, wet and tired."
More and more perplexed, Bayntun stammered out, "Really, sir, I beg your
pardon, but I thought--I took you--that is to say, I fancied that I was
dreaming, and I don't feel quite sure whether I am awake now."
"Waking or dreaming, my man, you should always use civil language. When
I saw you lying so comfortably in my bed, I was just thinking I would
leave you there, and go down myself to the kitchen fire; but really,
your uncivil speech!--Ha! ha! it is a good joke, too, to be mistaken for
a dream. So, good night to you, young man, and I will not disturb you
again."
The next morning the Doctor was found fast asleep in the kitchen. His
young patient at the house of Glennaclach not needing his assistance so
much as another sick person in the Glen, he had left him early in the
evening, and preferred coming home to Glen Bogie rather than returning
late at night to disturb the household of Mr Stewart. Early in the day
the young laird arrived, with a pressing invitation to the four English
strangers to come and stay at his house. They willingly accepted it,
and whether they enjoyed the visit is a question to be best answered by
those who have found themselves the guests of a Highland family, amongst
their own beautiful glens, and mountains, and woods, and waterfalls,
after passing months and years in cities, and amidst "the hum, the buzz,
the crush of men."
Bayntun spent much time after this in the society of his friend Hardy,
and, yielding to his advice and example, adopted a more stirring,
healthful, vigorous course of thought and life, and his favourite motto
was--
"Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate."
Story 8--CHAPTER ONE.