II.

"Oh, that I were where I would be."

Aunt Cattie was called away to see visitors, and it was not till after

tea that the story could be resumed. Millie had chafed at the

interruption, and said it was horrid of people to come, and bring one

down from the Black Mountain to listen to talk about weather and

fashions. Janie bore the delay more philosophically, observing that she

could not have turned the heel of her stocking so correctly while

thinking of Nilo and his poor mother. Archie remained silent, only when

Aunt Cattie sat down and resumed her narrative, he was heard to mutter

to himself that it was "awful jolly!"

The day that Spira left us, she said, was the last of your uncle's

holiday. That evening we sat together before the hearth on which a pine

log or two from Montenegro blazed. Your uncle cracked his walnuts in a

thoughtful mood, and I sat listening to the wind which rose and rose

till it blew a perfect gale; when it paused, as if to take breath, I

could count the waves that plashed on the shingle, and hear the shouts

of people on the quay welcoming the mail steamer from Ragusa.

"Laurie," said I at last, "are you going by that vessel to-morrow

morning?"

"Yes," he answered, "I have made up my mind to go to Ragusa, and come to

an explanation with John Popham; there has been a misunderstanding

between us, Cattie--I may tell you this much--and he has been led to

doubt not only the prudence of my conduct in the affairs of the house,

but the purity of my motives also."

"Doubt your purity of motive!" I cried. "If he can do that, Laurie, it

is not fit you should remain in his service another moment; it is not,

indeed."

There was a quiet smile on his face as he sat opposite to me in the

flickering firelight; he did not speak and I sat silent too, perusing

the lines of that dear face with a strange unaccountable foreboding of

evil.

"The man," thought I, "who can meet the glance of those clear, honest,

grey eyes, hear the tones of that kindly voice, and harbour one

suspicion, must be blind indeed. Heaven grant my Laurie be not too

honest, too unsuspicious for his own safety! If he could only be

persuaded to take half the care of that he does of the interests of

those ungrateful Pophams, there would be no cause for fear."

Your uncle spoke at last.

"Wee wifie," he said, "one must not be in a hurry to break a connection

of thirty-three years' standing. I was but two years old when Mr

Popham, the father of Francis and John, first took me up. I was an

orphan with a bare pittance to maintain me, and no near relations; and

had Mr Popham been a less conscientious guardian, I might have been

exposed to many privations, ay, and temptations too. As it was, he

nursed my little inheritance carefully, put me to a good though strict

school, and arranged that I should spend my holidays at his house. Mrs

Popham (the mother of Francis, now head of our firm) was a mother to me

also, and her early death was my first keen and lasting grief. It made

Francis and me cling closely to one another, the more so because

bereavement added much to the natural sternness of Mr Popham's

character. Our holidays for the next three years were seasons rather of

restraint than of enjoyment, but bright days returned when he married

the second Mrs Popham, a young Greek of extraordinary beauty and

gentleness. He only lived five years after that, and his death was a

great misfortune to his younger boy John, who was left at four years old

to the boundless spoiling of a doting mother. Francis's character was

quite formed at that time, and his habits of business and order were

very remarkable for one so young. At twenty, he took the direction of

affairs, and with the help of experienced advisers, has managed them

admirably for fifteen years. He and I have met but rarely, as my knack

of mastering languages easily had caused me to be employed chiefly in

the service of the house abroad, but I think our friendship is such as

to stand the test of absence, ay, and of calumny too. I do not, cannot,

believe he will endorse his brother's hasty censure of my conduct."

Laurie jumped up and paced the room awhile, then stood still, and said

abruptly--

"Shall I read you an article in the last `Quarterly,' Cattie? It's in

my portmanteau somewhere; come and help me to look for it."

I linked my arm in his, well pleased, and we were crossing the hall and

listening to the pattering of the salt spray against the window, when,

lo! there came a sharp rap at the house door. Mr Englefield unbarred

it cautiously, and started as he encountered a very tall and slight

figure wrapped in a shepherd's plaid, and seeming to cower under the

stormy blast.

"Mr Popham," he said, in a low, constrained voice; then observing the

wet and forlorn plight of the unexpected visitor, he added anxiously,

"Come in, sir, I beg; come in. Catherine, see that Mr Popham's room is

got ready at once, and the stove lighted."

"Don't call me `Mr Popham,' Englefield," responded the musical,

pleading voice of the stranger. "Call me John or Johnnie, as in old

days, if you don't wish to overpower me with shame and self-reproach. I

have been an egregious fool, Englefield, and a most ungrateful one, and

really know not in what terms to implore your forgiveness."

"It is granted as soon as asked," replied your uncle in his frank way,

and he drew our guest in towards the blazing hearth, "Johnnie's" arm

lovingly twining itself round his neck as they walked together. What a

revolution was this! I stood by, in silent wonder, watching Laurie's

brightening face, and glancing up curiously at the fair-haired stranger.

As I observed his youthful appearance, more that of nineteen than of

his real age, twenty-two; his delicate features, glowing with

excitement; and his deep, blue eyes, with tears gathering on their long

lashes, I no longer marvelled at the tenderness with which my husband

had always spoken of him; my recent dislike quickly melted away, and

kind feelings sprang up in its place. These feelings speedily took the

practical shape of providing dry clothes, supper and bed for our guest,

who seemed really distressed at giving me any trouble. He positively

declined supper, saying, "he had dined late on the steamer." As for

bed, why it was hardly worth while preparing that, for he must be up and

away by daybreak. "He should go with a lighter heart now Laurie had

forgiven him."

"Go, and whither?" inquired your uncle who out or delicacy had

restrained his eager longing to learn how the affairs of the house

stood.

"I hardly know," answered Mr Popham; "that's the point I want to

discuss with you, Englefield. I think I must go to Scutari, as that

rascal Orlando Jones appears to have crossed the Turkish frontier in

that direction. I must, at any rate, track and secure those diamonds.

I can never face Francis otherwise; you know they were entrusted to our

care so specially."

My husband had listened in speechless astonishment to these disclosures,

and I saw him turn pale. Mr Popham saw it too.

"Is it possible, my dear Laurence," he said, "that you had not heard of

Jones's having absconded? Why, I wrote you five days ago a penitential

letter, and a full, true, and particular account of the rascal's

moonlight flitting; if, as it seems, you had never received my apology,

I wonder you didn't shut your door in my face; but you _are_ the best

fellow in the world."

"Nonsense," was the blunt reply; "drink that glass of mulled wine, John,

I insist upon it, and then come with me. I must know all, that we may

see what's to be done, and do it at once."

I saw little more of Laurie that evening; their voices might be heard

through the thin wall in earnest talk. Then he went out into the town

with a brow full of care and thought. He would not let young Popham go

with him, but ordered him off to bed, observing.

"We will start early if I can obtain to-night from the authorities a

pass into the Turkish dominions. My Cattarese servant, a sharp fellow,

will soon find us horses and a guide for the journey."

"Then you are going with me? God bless you, Laurie," said John Popham,

earnestly.

"Of course I am," growled your uncle.

With an aching heart, I put the finishing touches to Laurie's travelling

gear, then went to bed, but not to quiet or refreshing sleep. There is

generally something depressing, I think, in a very early setting out; my

heart sinks now as I recall the breakfast by lamplight; faint, bluish

dawn just marking the square outline of the window; the horses' tread,

as our man servant walked them up and down before the doors--the last

words and directions hastily given by the travellers. Laurie found a

moment to take me aside and say: "Cattie, I think we shall be back very

shortly; Scutari, whither we can trace Jones, is but a few miles distant

and our journey attended with little or no risk, as we are well armed,

fairly mounted, and provided with a passport in due form. I have

letters too to the Pasha which _may_ induce him to assist us in our

search after that rascal."

"Have you much hope of catching him?" I asked.

Laurie shook his head. "I confess I have very little," he said; "yet it

seems worth the attempt at all events; Johnnie is bent on making it, and

I can't let him go alone, poor boy! Ah, had his letter reached me four

days ago, as it would have done had he trusted it to fitting hands, we

should have had a much better chance;" and he fairly stamped his foot

with vexation.

Well, they started; it was a Tuesday, and several days dragged their

slow length along, without any tidings of the absentees. Saturday

morning came, and brought a throng of mountain women to market,

unaccompanied, for the first time, by their husbands. Spira was there,

and delighted to see me, but even to her I could not hint my troubles,

as the good understanding then existing between Austria and England and

the Turks, was a very sore subject to a Montenegrin. So I replied but

vaguely to her inquiries after my lord and master, and begged to know

why _hers_ had not made his appearance as usual.

"Oh, your Excellency, he is much better employed," she replied, "than

coming down here to buy salt; have you not heard? has nobody told you

the new outrage committed by those Turkish dogs? our deadly foe, the

Pasha of Scutari, without notice or warning, has attacked our Bishop's

island fort of Lessandro, at the head of the Scutari lake, and taken it;

ten of our men have been killed, my father's brother's son amongst them,

and ten taken prisoners. The Bishop is mad about it, and Basil and all

the picked men are flocking to him. The Pasha himself is at Lessandro,"

added Spira, "may a bullet from our Vladika's rifle whiz through his

brain shortly! But what ails your Excellency? you shiver like our

silver aspen leaves."

I did indeed feel great disquiet at the thought of the wild work my

husband might be witnessing, and finding Spira's conversation too

warlike to suit my taste, walked homewards slowly, bidding her follow

with the marketings. In our sitting-room I found Mr Popham!

He came up and took my two hands in his, as if he had been the friend of

a lifetime, instead of the acquaintance of an evening.

"I think, I hope he is safe," he said, looking very white.

"How safe?" I asked; "tell me _all_, Mr Popham, if you please."

"I will," he answered; "it is a flesh-wound in the shoulder, nothing of

consequence, on my honour; he bade me tell you so, with his love."

"Am I to understand that you have left Mr Englefield wounded?" I

asked; it never struck me, in my consternation, that I had worded the

question harshly, till I saw Mr Popham's look of deep distress. There

was not the least anger in the crimson glow that suffused his face, nor

in his voice as he huskily answered: "I deserve this for my cruel

ingratitude towards him at Ragusa, but, on my honour, Mrs Englefield, I

am not to blame for leaving him now, nor shall I know rest till I am

again at his side."

"Thank you, thank you," I answered; "we will lose no time in going to

him; and now, let me hear some particulars."

"We reached Scutari all right," said Mr Popham; "the Pasha had just

left it to attack a fort belonging to the Prince of the Black Mountain;

so we followed, and reached the camp just as the fort was being stormed.

That evening we had an audience of the Pasha, in which Englefield laid

the whole matter before him; he spoke us fair, and promised help, but it

was all a sham, a regular sham; you will not wonder this when I tell you

that Orlando Jones, unseen by us was at the Pasha's elbow, bribing,

cringing, and sticking at nothing to gain his ends! It seems the

wretched man has long been in communication with the Turks, and has now

adopted the Mussulman creed and dress. In requital, a lucrative post

has been conferred on him."

"But to return to Laurie: on Thursday night, finding the Pasha still

impracticable, he advised our return to Cattaro next morning; we took

our leave of that dignitary and retired to the hut assigned us by the

Turkish quartermaster, in a wretched village near the head of the lake.

A force of some two hundred Turks guarded the place, but so negligently

that before daybreak they were surprised and overpowered by a daring

band of Black Mountaineers. Our share in this transaction was rather

passive than active; in fact I was dead asleep till the door of the hut

was burst in; I then saw Englefield, who had been vainly trying to shake

me into consciousness, deliberately place himself between me and the

intruders. That was a perilous moment; several swords were aimed at us,

and one came down on Laurie's shoulder, inflicting the wound I have

mentioned. I must confess that its effect would have been far more

serious, but for a most strange and providential circumstance. A

stalwart young mountaineer no sooner caught a glimpse of your husband's

face, than he rushed forward, grasped his comrade's arm, so as to weaken

the blow he could not quite avert, then threw himself on Laurie's neck

with wild yells of delight. A few words from this `Basil,' as they

called him, to his companions, changed their murderous fury into

enthusiasm. Laurie was hoisted on their shoulders, and carried at a

sort of shuffling trot a little way up the mountain, just within the

frontier of Montenegro; I followed close at their heels, and saw him

deposited in a hut, and his wound dressed by one of these gigantic

highlanders. I watched by him for several hours afterwards."

"And how did he seem?" I asked anxiously, for I well remembered

Laurie's telling me before we left England that he was of a feverish

temperament, and that hurts which others would recover from quickly,

became from that cause serious matters with him. The answer rather

increased my fears. He had fallen into a doze, but wakened within an

hour a good deal excited. Perhaps the extreme roughness of the bed they

had laid him in, contributed to his unrest, also the heavy anxiety on

his mind. He had talked confusedly of Orlando Jones, then he almost

raved about me, first begging I might not be told of his state, then

changing his mind suddenly, and entreating them to bring me to him. You

will easily believe that I did not require such a summons to make me

hasten to his side.

An old mountaineer, past fighting, who had guided Mr Popham to Cattaro,

offered me his escort, and Spira, who was at the door with her mule,

went into an ecstasy of delight at the prospect of showing her dear

native crags to "our lady," as she called me. I hastily put together

needful clothes for myself and Laurie, old linen, a change of sheets for

my dear patient, tea, arrow-root, and other provisions, and a selection

from the precious medicine-chest. These were packed on one side of the

stout mule, and a seat for me was devised on the other side. Happily

for the animal, I was as light as a feather in those days. Seeing Mr

Popham pale and fatigued, I urged him to remain at our house till his

strength was recruited, and rejoin us the next Tuesday, when he would

easily find a competent guide in the market-place; but he rejected this

advice with vehemence, and after swallowing some refreshment and writing

several letters to Ragusa and England, declared himself quite ready for

a start. My heart warmed to him for his love of Laurie.

Up, up the zigzag path I had so long panted to explore; up, up, we

climbed, but under circumstances how different from those I had pictured

to myself! No Laurie at my side, enjoying every beautiful thing in

earth, air, or sky, showing me what to sketch and how to sketch it; but

vague, uneasy thoughts of him on his feverish couch and among half

savage people. The channel of Cattaro lay below us, its jagged shores,

studded with pretty villages; on all sides were craggy grey peaks,

rising one behind the other, a sky of hazy blue arching over all. My

guide Giuro was full of apologies for the roughness of the track we rode

upon, telling me the old Montenegrin legend "that at the Creation, the

bag which held the stones to be distributed over the earth, burst, and

let them all fall on the Black Mountain."

The road certainly was as bad as possible; but my mule advanced

sturdily, by jumps and jerks, till we reached the top of the pass.

There we were, I am afraid to pay how many hundred feet above the sea,

but overhanging it so completely that a pebble dropped from one's hand

fell into the waves. The Ragusan steamer looked like a nutshell from

our eminence.

The ascent had occupied two hours and a half; it took us three more to

reach our halting-place, Cetigna, Spira's home. A gentle descent led to

the village, and in the distance shimmered a white shroud-like mist,

which Spira told me covered the lake of Scutari. Somewhere in that

direction Laurie must be lying, I knew; and the certainty doubled my

impatience to get to him. Old Giuro now raised his voice to the

shrillest key imaginable, and, in a way peculiar to these mountaineers,

who talk to each other from hill tops half a mile asunder, announced

that "our lady" was approaching. Whereupon a great hubbub arose; dogs

barked, and feminine voices responded eagerly. Two or three muskets

were presently discharged, and the twang of the balls as they passed

near gave my nerves rather an unpleasant shock. I did not then know

that the Black Mountaineers always receive their friends thus; in this

instance female hands had loaded and fired, the men being almost all

away fighting. A band of brightly-clad women, not less than forty in

number, now came to meet me, their children frolicking round them, and

some boys playing, not very discordantly, the one-stringed fiddle of the

country. At their head walked a grey-haired matron, whom Spira pointed

out as her grandmother, and who carried on her shoulder Nilo, looking

lovely in a "strucca" striped olive-green and mulberry-red. The dear

little fellow knew me at once, and almost sprang to my arms, whereupon

the good housewives of Cetigna uttered a screech of delight, closed

round me and kissed my cloak, hands, and even lips with a fervour I

could have dispensed with.

Mr Popham, much amused with these greetings, pushed forward to the

little inn of the place to order supper. I meanwhile yielded to Spira's

urgent wish, and turned into her cottage to be introduced to the

remaining members of her family. You will smile, children, when you

hear that I found squatting round the hearth a great-grandfather of a

hundred years old, and a grandfather of eighty-two; her mother, a

handsome woman with scarlet vest and girdle encrusted with cornelians

was there also, and these, with Spira and her boy, made up five

generations. Such patriarchal families, they say, are not uncommon on

the Black Mountain. The fire-place was merely a raised hearth in one

corner of the room, with a cauldron hanging over it. A lump of dough

was baking on the ashes; chimney there was none, so the smoke eddied

slowly round, a portion of it making its way into my throat and eyes; at

least one pig reposed on the floor of the hut, and I heard a faint

clucking of poultry roosting in some remote and dusky corner of the

chamber. It really was a relief to get away from the motley group, and

under Spira's guidance I soon reached the clean little inn of Cetigna.

Here, in the bright, low kitchen, I found Mr Popham on his knees,

toasting bread, and at the same time giving our Cattarese landlady

useful hints as to the grilling of some fine trout her boy had just

caught. A quaintly-carved chair had been dragged to the fireside, and

stuffed with cloaks to supply the want of cushions. Tea was set forth;

also a flask of the famous Ragusa Malmesey; a red-legged partridge,

intended by the hostess for her own supper, had been carried off for

mine, she smiling complacently at the theft, and confiding to Spira that

so pleasant a gentleman had never visited the mountain before! In fact,

Mr Popham was now quite in his glory, and as I lazily leaned back in my

chair and watched him (for he would not allow me to make myself of use),

his ingenuity and overflowing good-nature amused and cheered me. After

supper we held a little council as to next day's movements, and my

spirits were further raised by Mr Popham's proposing that we should

start at five in the morning, so as to get to Laurie by noon. The

indefatigable Spira begged to be our guide; all was settled, and I went

to bed in a small adjoining room, feeling almost happy. It was an

untold comfort when alone to pull out my little Bible and Prayer-book,

and in that wild region to be able to commend Laurie, myself, and all we

loved to _His_ fatherly care "in whose hand are all the corners of the

earth."