their fellow-creatures, sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously.
That day at dinner, Miss Winnie Laverock was one of these hapless
victims. The operators were Miss Thomasina Stocks and Mr Tosh; and Miss
Jaap, with her bold black eyes, was a keen and gratified spectator of
the operation.
First, Miss Stocks insisted upon leading back the conversation to
the incident in the harvest field, and again and again expressed her
astonishment at Winnie's sudden faintness. "What was it made you ill, I
wonder? Was it the heat, do you think? For, you know, you were so well
and bright a minute before."
Then Mr Tosh, in turn, after his headlong, haphazard manner, took up
the subject. He had, he said, been instituting inquiries about that
ruffian who insulted Miss Laverock and made her ill. The fellow, it
seemed, called himself Riley, for the nonce at least. Whether it was
his real name was very doubtful. Blackguards kept several names, just
as decent folks kept several changes of garments, and as soon as one
became too soiled, they put on another. Riley was the inseparable pal
of Black Morgan, who had the words "burglar" and "garrotter" written
on his countenance--yes, written in the Devil's own handwriting.
Altogether, this Riley was a bad lot; and those keen eyes and greedy
hands must have been inherited from a long line of thieves. He was
some desperate criminal in disguise. What if he should turn out to be
Crouch, the Glasgow murderer, that they were searching for everywhere?
Under this ruthless talk, poor Miss Laverock sat wincing and quivering
and answering at random. At length her host interfered for her relief;
and oh! how she thanked him inwardly from the bottom of her heart. Mr
Stocks was, what I may be allowed to call, a natural Christian--one who
had an instinctive sympathy and consideration for the sufferings of
his fellow-creatures. Without the slightest fuss he adroitly diverted
the conversation, by asking if they had heard of the last escapade of
Rory Brand, the converted shoemaker: and then he told a most ludicrous
incident,--how Rory had been at July Fair on an evangelising mission;
how, when he was returning in the gloaming, near Inverarden, he had met
a shabby old man, apparently a tramp; how he had addressed him at once
as a lost sheep, exhorting him to give up his wandering and lawless
life; how he had pressed upon him a tract entitled "Hoary Sinner,
Stop!" and how this hoary sinner had turned out to be the saintly
Dr Gowans, an ex-Moderator, and Convener of the Church's Missionary
Society. In this way the attention of the company was diverted from
Miss Laverock, and during the remainder of the dinner she was left in
comparative peace.
But after she had retired from the table to her own room, she could
not rest. She must see this infatuated young man, and ascertain the
reason of his extraordinary condition, and implore him to spare her.
The proceeding was dangerous, but at all hazards it must be done. So,
without more consideration, she put on her hat and went out.
When Miss Laverock passed through the farmyard, the shearers had
emptied their large basins of oatmeal porridge, and were lapped in that
most delicious of all luxuries--rest after a long day of hard labour.
On the heap of fragrant grass at the stable door reclined three or
four Highlanders, passing the snuff-mull, and exchanging their rather
stinted sentiments in their native Gaelic. On a seat improvised by the
laying of a plank on two upright stones, sat some pawky Aberdonians
enveloped in a small cloud of tobacco fumes. And outside on the road,
under a tree, was a group of women, mending their linen as they rested
their weary limbs on the cool green turf. On another occasion, Winnie's
quick sympathy would have enabled her to appreciate this picture of
honest well-earned content. But now, her eyes were searching right and
left for one figure; and there he was, seated on a stone opposite the
garden gate, and attended by his evil genius, Black Morgan. As she
passed him, she gave him a glance, which he understood, for he rose
and followed her; and when she had walked a short distance, she turned
round, and the two stood face to face, ready for an explanation.
But there seemed to be no chance of the poor girl escaping from her
perplexity. She had only time to ask--"Why do you come here, of all
places, to disgrace me?" and he had only time to answer--"Don't be
alarmed; I shall not disgrace you," when out from the farmyard appeared
Mr Stocks, talking with his grieve. Like one surprised in a criminal
act, Winnie turned aside abruptly into the garden gate. And there
inside the wall was Miss Jaap, who made no attempt to conceal the fact
that she had been eaves-dropping. With an air of the most righteous
indignation she said,--
"Really, Miss Laverock, for the sake of public decency, you should not
be seen talking to that man." And then she went out of the garden into
the road as if to get hold of Riley and question him.
"How dare you!" was all that poor Winnie could answer, and then escaped
hurriedly to her own room. There her vexation found vent in a tempest
of tears and bemoanings.
"Oh, why," she sobbed, "has this happened just when I was so happy,
and everything was going so well. And what will Mr Stocks think? I'm
anxious to stand well in his opinion. I have such a sincere admiration
for him. He is not a genius, but he is something far better--a
large-hearted, shrewd-minded man, who cannot fail in any of the duties
of life. And to-day, I have liked him more than ever, for the tender
and clever way he protected me from these babbling fools. And he is
really beginning to show that he likes me. Oh, it is provoking that
this hapless ne'er-do-well should turn up here of all places in the
world to spoil everything. What should I do? What should I do? Should
I run away home at once? No! that would draw more attention to the
unfortunate circumstance; and besides, the evil is already done. No!
there is another course, a very disagreeable one; but I will face
it. Why should I not? Why should I not confess the whole thing to Mr
Stocks? He will place himself in my position; and may not think a
bit the worse of me. My mind is now made up. In the morning, after
breakfast, I shall explain the whole matter to him."
In the morning, however, she did not see Mr Stocks. He had been
summoned away to meet the factor on important business, and would not
be home till the evening. Her heart sank within her; and she felt that
she would never get through the long weary hours. And her misery was
intensified by the contrast which she saw in everything around her.
There was merriment, as well as excitement, in every countenance.
It was to be the last day of harvest, and the great question was,
who was to get "the maiden," that is, the last handful of grain that
was reaped. To determine this, it is true, a well-known device was
generally practised. Some of the young men conspired, before the end
of the field was reached, to leave a shock of grain uncut and cover
it up with a stook. Then when the close came, and every ear of corn
apparently was reaped, the favoured lass was taken to the spot, the
stook was cleared away revealing the unreaped shock, she cut it and
thus secured "the maiden," and became "the Queen of the Harvest";
but this device required to be cleverly carried out in order to be
successful.
Meanwhile, Miss Laverock was passing the weary hours under a cloud of
apprehension. Some great calamity, she feared, awaited her. What shape
it was to take she could not divine, but it was in some way connected
with that unfortunate young man. And when, in the afternoon, she
walked out with Miss Stocks and Mr Tosh to see the end of the harvest,
she felt as if she were going to her doom. Accordingly, she was not
surprised, when, in approaching the Five Acre Park, they became aware
of a great hubbub. The end of the harvest had evidently been reached;
the reapers were clustering together in a noisy mob at the end of the
field; groans mingled with shouts arose in the air; and prominent in
the turmoil were seen the figures of Peg Jackson and Black Morgan.
"Now," thought Winnie, "it has come at last. My disgrace has been
discovered, and will now be held up before the world."
But on this occasion, at least, she was alarming herself needlessly.
The commotion was caused by no serious matter. Peg Jackson, it seems,
at the dinner hour had noticed three or four stalks of corn that had
been left uncut by the side of the field. She had squatted down upon
them, and had beaten them flat, and concealed them under her capacious
person; and as she was always the first to sit down and the last to
rise up, no one had seen them. She waited till the device for securing
"the maiden," which we have explained above, was carried out, and
Grace Fleming, the favoured damsel, was proclaimed "the Harvest Queen."
Then she came forward and protested that the last of the harvest was
not yet reaped; and in proof of the statement she went to the handful
of grain which she had concealed in such a grotesque way, cut it, and
held it up in triumph. Many loudly demurred; but others declared that
The Bummer was right, that she had got "the maiden," and a proposition
was made to carry her shoulder high. Peg, however, was not to be
trifled with; and when Black Morgan advanced to lay hold of her, she
gave him a cuff which sent him backwards into a stook.
This cloud of alarm melted away without doing any damage; but a more
ominous one was gathering on the horizon. That evening, the shearers
were to be entertained in the barn to a supper and a dance; and the
farmer and his friends were expected to be present at a part of the
entertainment. At eight o'clock, the ladies were in their rooms making
ready to go into the barn, when a cry arose, that Miss Stocks's
jewel-case was stolen. The last time it had been seen was at the dinner
hour of the previous day. Mr Stocks, who had just arrived from his
journey, summoned the whole household--guests, servants, and all--to
ascertain if any clue could be got to the mystery. No one could give
any definite information. Then Miss Jaap, who, it was evident to all,
was bursting with something, struck in:--
"It's that man Riley. He was hanging about the garden gate last night.
You saw him, Miss Laverock, and you were speaking to him; and, by the
by, you must have left the garden door of the house ajar, for it was
found open this morning, and that was the way by which the thief must
have got in. And what confirms his guilt is, that he has disappeared.
He wasn't at his work to-day. Do you know where he is, Miss Laverock?"
"Magdalen," said Mr Stocks sternly, "there must be no rash accusations.
What we have got to do is not to suspect, but to detect. I shall wait
till to-morrow morning, and if the matter is not cleared up by that
time, it must be put into the hands of the police. Meantime, Magdalen,
don't introduce Miss Laverock's name. She has got nothing to do with
it: depend upon that."
What Miss Laverock's feelings were during this ordeal may be imagined
but can't be described. When it was all over, the only remark that she
could make was, that she could not go to see the shearers. But Miss
Stocks, taking her aside, and kissing and coaxing her, said, "Don't
mind what that spiteful cat insinuates. It is all jealousy. Show your
contempt for her by appearing as usual, and going about as usual." And
Winnie set out with her friend to the barn.
When they reached the barn, the supper was over, and the tables and
forms were being cleared away to make room for the dance. Whether it
was owing to the solid nature of the viands, or to a scanty supply of
inspiriting beverage, I can't say, but the men and women were dull and
dumb, and the sight of their betters from the big house only tended
to make them look more sheepish and awkward. How they were to be
entertained seemed to be a great difficulty. But a remedy was at hand.
There was present an Orpheus who could animate the stocks and the
stones. This was the old, bandy-legged fiddler, Geordie Wilkie. On
ordinary occasions he was a simple clodhopper, trudging at the plough
tail, or sitting upon his muddy cart; but at a foy, a penny wedding,
or any other merrymaking, he was a potentate, a magician swaying the
crowds at will, as the moon sways the waters of the deep. On this
particular night, he was, as he himself expressed it, "in fine fettle."
No sooner did he, after a few preliminary tunings and squeakings,
strike up an old-fashioned reel, than the dead mass of humanity began
to move, and throb, and leap. The music, like electricity, had flashed
through their nerves and muscles and made them jump into life. In a
trice they had fallen into sets and were involved in the mazes of the
dance, thumping the floor with their hob-nailed shoes, cracking their
horny fingers, grinning and grimacing to their partners, "hooching,"
and wheeling nimbly about, shaking off their cares as a dog shakes off
the hail-drops, and looking as if there was to be no more worry or want
in this world, and all was to be peace and plenty for evermore.
On another occasion, Winnie, with her sunny sympathetic disposition,
would have entered thoroughly into this scene, and would have enjoyed
to the full all its escapades and humours. But now her heart was frozen
by despair, and could not feel anything like pleasure. Their bright
merriment by its contrast only made her despondency all the darker.
It seemed a mockery of her grief, and aggravated it intensely. She
looked on in agony, and was wondering where she should go and what she
should do, when she saw the unwonted sight of a policeman at the door
of the barn; and immediately afterwards a servant whispered in her ear,
"Please, Miss, you are wanted in the parlour." Then she knew that the
catastrophe was at hand, and went away to meet it.
But a strange change had come over her--a change which surprised
herself. Despair had become desperation, and she now felt herself
perfectly calm and collected. She was eager to make a full explanation
of the whole matter, and to abide the consequences. Therefore, when she
entered the parlour, and saw a policeman, with the official calmness
on his countenance, and Riley well dressed and bright, and Mr Stocks
anxious and perplexed, and Miss Jaap flushed and giving her evidence,
she was not surprised, but quietly took a seat and listened.
Miss Jaap in excited tones was telling her story--how she had seen
Riley last night about seven o'clock watching the garden gate, how
she had gone back half an hour afterwards and found him still lurking
there, and how she was sure it was he who took the jewels, and it could
be no one else. Then turning to Winnie, she said, "You know that this
is true, Miss Laverock, for you saw him and were talking to him on the
road, and came in through the garden and did not lock the door, and
that was the way he got into the house."
At this venomous speech the hearers were visibly fluttered. Mr
Stocks looked stern indignation; the policeman condescended to smile
contemptuously; and Riley, producing a box, asked Miss Jaap if that was
the stolen article.
"Ah, look there now!" cried Miss Jaap; "was I not right? He's obliged
to confess that he is the thief."
"No, Miss! there you are wrong. But," he added, after listening to
footsteps coming along the passage, "here, if I mistake not, comes the
thief."
And two policemen entered with Black Morgan in charge.
"So," growled out Morgan, regarding Riley with a murderous look, "you
hound, you split upon your pal after all your gammon! But look here,
policemen, this smaik is the real boss of the plant. He has got the
jewel-case on him."
"Right so far," replied Riley coolly; "but I took it from you in the
way of business. I am Macnab, the detective."
"The d---- you are," exclaimed Morgan.
"Whew ---- by ----, if I had known that, I would have spoilt your mug
for you. Mean! low! mean! d----d mean!"
"Come now, Morgan," said Riley, "don't be uncharitable. Every man to
his trade. Your trade is wholesale criminal. Mine is detective officer.
You prosecuted yours with unflagging enthusiasm. Allow me to do the
same. I was asked to look after you. From information received you were
thought to be the man wanted for a notorious crime. It was a difficult
job, for you were up to no end of dodges. Now, I had always been fond
of play-acting. In fact, I was once upon the boards. So I resolved
to dress up as a brother pal, and I stuck to you like a brother and
followed you here. And you must confess that I made up and performed
the part to perfection. And what's more, I have got the evidence that I
wanted. You are not Will Morgan. You know you are not. You are James
Crouch, that has been wanted so long for the Trongate murder."
This intelligence startled the little company like the shock of an
earthquake. The thought that they were in the presence of that ruthless
cut-throat, Crouch, who for so many weeks had been advertised for
and sought for all over the country, and also in the presence of
Macnab, the famous Glasgow detective, produced what journalists call
"a sensation." For several minutes they could do nothing but devour
with their eyes the criminal, who returned their stare with a scowl of
defiance. But their amazement was interrupted by the detective and the
policemen rising and preparing to leave with their charge. While doing
so, the detective glanced at Miss Laverock, and said, "I'll call here
and see you to-morrow morning."
The company in the parlour sat for some time expressing their
astonishment at this wonderful denouement. Then Winnie, noticing that
Miss Jaap still regarded her with suspicion, fairly turned on her.
"You are wondering, Miss Jaap, what connection this detective has with
me. Well! I shall tell you. This man is _not_ my husband. He is not
even my discarded lover, a statement which you were overheard making
to Kirsten the tablemaid. He is only my brother, nothing more. He was
an only son, and my father devoted his whole time to his education,
and resolved to make him a scholar. But when Eric (that's my brother's
name, and his middle name is Macnab) was ready for the University, he
refused to go. He said that he had no taste for learning, and that his
whole heart was for acting, and that he would go upon the stage. Now,
my father is passionate, imperious, and accustomed to get his own way.
Besides, if there is one calling that he considers disreputable it is
_play-acting_, as he styles it. He therefore solemnly declared that
if Eric went upon the stage, he would from that moment disinherit and
disown him. But Eric, who had inherited his father's hot and wilful
temper, declared that he would not be forced into a profession which he
hated, that he himself was the best judge of what he was best fitted
for, and that if his own father chose to throw him off, he would fend
for himself. So he went away and disappeared; and for years, up till
yesterday in fact, we have seen and heard nothing of him. Now, Miss
Jaap, was it not natural that I should be disturbed when I came
unexpectedly on my long-lost brother in the harvest field? Was it not
natural that I should blush for him, when I saw him in the garments of
a hireling reaper? And was it not natural that I should try to have
a talk with him? And was it not very cruel, Miss Jaap, when you had
only these grounds to go upon, to jump to the conclusion that I was an
abandoned girl, and actually to accuse me of aiding and abetting in
this robbery of the jewel-case? I ask you, Miss Jaap, has your conduct
not been very, very cruel?"
Miss Jaap sat silent, and only replied by a look of inveterate hatred.
But Mr Stocks, in the most earnest manner said, "If nobody else will
reply, I will, Miss Laverock. You have been used most cruelly. You
were invited to the house as a guest, and you have been treated like
a criminal. As the master of the house I humbly apologise; and as for
Miss Jaap, she ought to go down on her knees and ask your pardon for
her vile suspicions and accusations."
But this only brought Miss Jaap's hate to a climax, for she rose up in
stern silence and went out of the room.
"That woman's unamiability," said Mr Stocks, "is a most pitiable
spectacle. She was always irritable; but latterly her bad temper has
become chronic. It is a madness, a monomania, which she takes a morbid
pleasure in nursing. Almost every person is looked upon as an enemy,
and almost every act as an insult. I myself am afraid to move or to
speak lest I offend her. But I will stand it no longer. She shall go at
once. I have done with her."
"Don't, Mr Stocks, I entreat you, cast her off," said Miss Laverock.
"You are her only friend, I understand. The poor thing is more to be
pitied than blamed. Her infirmity is more physical than moral. It is
the result of biliousness, and can only be cured by medical treatment.
But I believe that I am partly to blame. My presence and my incessant
chatter have aggravated her. I know that I talk too much. Ever since I
was a child, my father has made me his companion, and has encouraged me
to give my opinion on every subject; and when in company, I am apt to
forget that other people are not so partial as he is, and I allow my
tongue to go like a bell. And poor Miss Jaap, along with others, has
suffered. My everlasting gabble must be a great nuisance."
"Well!" replied Mr Stocks, "if that's gabble, then all I have to say is
that I don't wish to hear anything better than gabble during the rest
of my life."
"There's no accounting for taste," said Winnie laughing. "But, Mr
Stocks, to speak seriously, you'll not cast that poor thing off?
Remember that you are her best friend. If you do, I shall be very
miserable, for I shall feel that I have been the cause of it. You'll
not do it, will you?"
"Well, Miss Laverock, if it's to give you pain, I will not do it."
"Now! that's like you. And you'll find that everything will now go
right. I'm going home to-morrow, and Miss Jaap will then become quiet.
This (_pointing to her jacket_) is the red rag that has made the
cow mad. When this is removed the cow will settle down to chew the
cud--yes, the cud of sweet and bitter memories."
Mr Stocks was now aghast. "Miss Laverock," he stammered, "you can't
mean it. No, no--it will never do--why, you have only been here
two days, and you came to stay a month at least. I was looking
forward--that is, _we_ were all looking forward--to a happy time, and
now"--and here the good man's feelings overpowered him, and fairly
carried him away. What he said he never could exactly remember; but
he gave her to understand that he could not do without her, and that,
deprived of her presence, life would not be worth living.
Then she, blushing very much, yet unable to repress a merry twinkle in
her eye, said that this was dreadful. It was just another proof that
she had been too long there. She was the wicked fairy that, without
meaning it, had introduced confusion into the family. She must,
however, persist in going home to-morrow. She wished to be present at
the meeting between her father and brother, and to try to reconcile
them. But (_and here she looked down and faltered in her speech_)
if her father approved, and she had no doubt he would, she would
come back; and after all the proper forms had been gone through she
would stay. She could not bear the idea of having his death upon her
conscience, or even his unhappiness--all the more so as she had always
admired and liked him, especially during her late trouble, when he had
shown her so much sympathy and good feeling. Would he agree to this
arrangement?
Of course, he was only too delighted to agree; and he was anxious
that there should be witnesses to the agreement. So he led her into
the drawing-room, where Miss Stocks and Miss Jaap were sitting, and
introduced her as his affianced bride. Miss Stocks rushed to her, and
took her in her arms; Miss Jaap bounced out of the room.
"What wonderful chemical properties I must have," said Winnie. "I
possess the power both of attraction and repulsion."
"No wonder," said Mr Stocks, "that she is ashamed to look you in the
face, after accusing you of theft."
"But," said Winnie, "I was really guilty of theft. I stole your heart;
but you punished me, for you stole mine."
THE BOY HERETIC.