But it was not the matter of the ten pounds that worried Traquair as he
climbed into his pony cart and drove slowly through the castle policies
to the gate. Indeed, the lofty gates had not been closed behind him
before he had forgotten all about them. That The McTavish was not The
McTavish alone occupied his attention. And when he perceived the cause
of the trouble, strolling beside the lofty ring fence of stone that
shielded the castle policies from impertinent curiosity, it was in
anything but his usual cheerful voice that he hailed him.
"Will you take a lift, Mr. McTavish?" he invited dismally.
"Oh, no," said The McTavish, "I won't trouble you, thanks."
Traquair's meeserable conscience got the better of him all at once. And
with that his cheerfulness returned.
"Get in," he said. "You cannot help troubling me, Mr. McTavish. I've a
word for you, sir."
McTavish, wondering, climbed into the car.
"Fergus," said Traquair to the small boy who acted as groom, messenger,
and shoe polisher to the local branch of the Bank of Scotland,
"ye'll walk."
When the two were thus isolated from prying ears, Mr. Traquair cleared
his throat and spoke. "Is there anything, Mr. McTavish," he said, "in
this world that a rich man like you may want?"
"Oh, yes," said McTavish, "some things."
"More wealth?"
McTavish shook his head.
"Houses--lands?" Traquair looked up shrewdly from the corner of his eye,
but McTavish shook his head again.
"Power, then, Mr. McTavish?"
"No--not power."
"Glory?"
"No," said McTavish; "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid not."
"Then, sir," said Traquair, "it's a woman."
"No," said McTavish, and he blushed handsomely. "It's _the_ woman."
"I withdraw my insinuation," said Traquair gravely.
"I thank you," said Mr. McTavish.
"I am glad, sir," said Traquair presently, "to find you in so generous
a disposition, for we have need of your generosity. I have it from Miss
McTavish herself," he went on gravely, "that your ancestor, so far as
you know, was Colland McTavish."
"So far as I know and believe," said McTavish, "he was."
"Did you know that Colland McTavish should have been _The_ McTavish?"
asked Mr. Traquair.
"It never entered my head. Was he the oldest son?"
"He was," said Mr. Traquair solemnly, "until in the eyes of the _law_ he
ceased to exist."
"Then," said McTavish, "in every eye save that of the law I am _The_
McTavish."
Mr. Traquair bowed. "Miss McTavish," he said, "was for telling you at
once; but she left the matter entirely to my discretion. I have thought
best to tell you."
"Would the law," asked McTavish, "oust Miss McTavish and stand me in her
shoes?"
"The law," said Traquair pointedly, "would not do the former, and," with
a glance at McTavish's feet, "the Auld Nick could not do the latter."
McTavish laughed. "Then why have you told me?" he asked.
"Because," said Traquair grandly, "it is Miss McTavish's resolution to
make no opposition to your claim."
"I see; I am to become 'The' without a fight."
"Precisely," said Traquair.
"Well, discretionary powers as to informing me of this were given you,
as I understand, Mr. Traquair?"
"They were," said Traquair.
"Well," said McTavish again, "there's no use crying over spilt milk. But
is your conscience up to a heavy load?"
"'Tis a meeserable vehicle at best," protested Traquair.
"You must pretend," said McTavish, "that you have not yet told me."
"Ah!" Traquair exclaimed. "You wish to think it over."
"I do," said McTavish.
Both were silent for some moments. Then Traquair said rather solemnly:
"You are young, Mr. McTavish, but I have hopes that your thinking will
be of a wise and courageous nature."
"Do you read Tennyson?" asked McTavish, apropos of nothing.
"No," said Traquair, slightly nettled. "Burns."
"I am sorry," said McTavish simply; "then you don't know the lines:
'If you are not the heiress born,
And I,' said he, 'the lawful heir,' etc.
do you?"
"No," said Traquair, "I do not."
"It is curious how often a lack of literary affinity comes between two
persons and a heart-to-heart talk."
"Let me know," said Traquair, "when you have thought it over."
"I will. And now if you will put me down--?"
He leaped to the ground, lifted his hat to the older man, and, turning,
strode very swiftly, as if to make up for lost time, back toward the
castle gate.
V
McTavish was kept waiting a long time while a servant took his letter of
introduction to Miss MacNish, and brought back an answer from
the castle.
Finally, midway of a winding and shrubby short cut, into which he turned
as directed by the porter, he came suddenly upon her.
"Miss MacNish--?" he said.
"You're not Mr. McTavish!--" She seemed dumfounded, and glanced at a
letter which she carried open in her hand. "My sister writes--"
"What does she write?" asked McTavish eagerly.
"No--no!" Miss MacNish exclaimed hastily, "the letter was to me." She
tore it hastily into little pieces.
"Miss MacNish," said McTavish, somewhat hurt, "it is evident that I give
diametrically opposed impressions to you and your sister. Either she
has said something nice about me, and you, seeing me, are astonished
that she should; or she has said something horrid about me--I do hope
it's that way--and you are even more surprised. It must be one thing or
the other. And before we shake hands I think it only proper for you to
tell me which."
"Let bygones be bygones," said Miss MacNish, and she held out her hand.
McTavish took it, and smiled his enigmatic smile.
"It is your special wish, I have gathered," said Miss MacNish, "to meet
The McTavish. Now she knows about your being in the neighborhood, knows
that you are a distant cousin, but she hasn't expressed any wish to meet
you--at least I haven't heard her. If she wishes to meet you, she will
ask you to call upon her. If she doesn't wish to, she won't. Of course,
if you came upon her suddenly--somewhere in the grounds, for
instance--she'd have to listen to what you had to say, and to answer
you, I suppose. But to-day--well I'd not try it to-day."
"Why not?" asked McTavish.
"Why," said Miss MacNish, "she caught cold in the car yesterday, and her
poor nose is much too red for company."
"Why do you all try to make her out such a bad lot?"
"Is it being a bad lot to have a red nose?" exclaimed Miss MacNish.
"At twenty-two?" McTavish looked at her in surprise and horror. "I ask
_you_," he said. "There was the porter at Brig O'Dread, and your
sister--they gave her a pair of black eyes between them, and here you
give her a red nose. When the truth is probably the reverse."
"I don't know the reverse of red," said Miss MacNish, "but that would
give her white eyes."
"I am sure, Miss MacNish, that quibbling is not one of your
prerogatives. It belongs exclusively to the Speaker of the House of
Representatives. As for me--the less I see of The McTavish, the surer I
am that she is rather beautiful, and very amusing, and good."
"Are these the matters on which you are so eager to meet her?" asked
Miss MacNish. She stood with her back to a clump of dark blue larkspur
taller than herself--a lovely picture, in her severe black housekeeper's
dress that by contrast made her face and dark red hair all the more
vivacious and flowery. Her eyes at the moment were just the color of
the larkspur.
McTavish smiled his enigmatic smile. "They are," he said.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Miss MacNish.
"When I meet her--" McTavish began, and abruptly paused.
"What?" Miss MacNish asked with some eagerness.
"Oh, nothing; _I'm_ so full of it that I almost betrayed my own
confidence."
"I hope that you aren't implying that I might prove indiscreet."
"Oh, dear no!" said McTavish.
"It had a look of it, then," said Miss MacNish tartly.
"Oh," said McTavish, "if I've hurt your feelings--why, I'll go on with
what I began, and take the consequences, shall I?"
"I think," said Miss MacNish primly, "that it would tend to restore
confidence between us."
"When I meet her, then," said McTavish, "I shall first tell her that she
is beautiful, and amusing, and good. And then," it came from him in a
kind of eager, boyish outburst, "I shall ask her to marry me."
Miss MacNish gasped and stepped backward into the fine and deep soil
that gave the larkspur its inches. The color left her cheeks and
returned upon the instant tenfold. And it was many moments before she
could find a word to speak. Then she said in an injured and astonished
tone: "_Why?_"
"The Scotch Scot," said McTavish, "is shrewd, but cautious. The American
Scot is shrewd, but daring. Caution, you'll admit, is a pitiful measure
in an affair of the heart."
Miss MacNish was by this time somewhat recovered from her
consternation. "Well," said she, "what then? When you have come upon The
McTavish unawares somewhere in the shrubbery, and asked her to marry
you, and she has boxed your ears for you--what then?"
"Then," said McTavish with a kind of anticipatory expression of
pleasure, "I shall kiss her. Even if she hated it," he said ruefully,
"she couldn't help but be surprised and flattered."
Miss MacNish took a step forward with a sudden hilarious brightening in
her eyes. "Are you quizzing me," she said, "or are you outlining your
honest and mad intentions? And if the latter, won't you tell me why?
Why, in heaven's name, should you ask The McTavish to marry you--at
first sight?"
"I can't explain it," said McTavish. "But even if I never have seen
her--I love her."
"I have heard of love at first sight--" began Miss MacNish.