THE LITTLE GOD HAS AN INNINGS
By the great fireplace she stood, hands clasped, head upturned as in
prayer. The lips moved silently in the petition of her heart. I saw in
profile a girl's troubled face charged with mystery, a slim, tall, weary
figure all in white against the flame, a cheek's pure oval, the tense
curve of a proud neck, a mass of severely snodded russet hair. So I
recalled her afterward, picture of desolation seeking comfort, but at the
moment when I blundered on her my presence seemed profanity and no time
was found for appraisement. Abashed I came to a halt, and was for
tiptoeing back to the door; but hearing me she turned.
"Kenneth!" she cried, and stood with parted lips. Then, "They told
me----"
"That I was taken. True, but I escaped. How, I will tell you later. The
Prince-- Is he safe?"
"For the present, yes. A lugger put in this morning belonging to some
smugglers. In it he sailed for the mainland with Ronald and Murdoch. You
will have heard the bad news," she cried.
"That Malcolm, Creagh, and Donald are taken?"
"And Flora, too. She iss to be sent to London for assisting in the escape
of the Prince. And so are the others."
I fell silent, deep in thought, and shortly came to a resolution.
"Aileen, the Highlands are no place for me. I am a stranger here. Every
clachan in which I am seen is full of danger for me. To-morrow I am for
London."
"To save Malcolm," she cried.
"If I can. Raasay cannot go. He must stay to protect his clansmen. Murdoch
is a fugitive and his speech would betray him in an hour. Remains only
I."
"And I."
"You?"
"Why not? After 'the '15' women's tears saved many a life. And I too have
friends. Sir Robert Volney, evil man as he iss, would move heaven and
earth to save my brother."
There was much truth in what she said. In these days of many executions a
pardon was to be secured less by merit than by the massing of influence,
and I knew of no more potent influence than a beautiful woman in tears.
Together we might be able to do something for our friends. But there was
the long journey through a hostile country to be thought of, and the
probability that we might never reach our destination in freedom. I could
not tell the blessed child that her presence would increase threefold my
chances of being taken, nor indeed was that a thing that held weight with
me. Sure, there was her reputation to be considered, but the company of a
maid would obviate that difficulty.
Ronald returned next day, and I laid the matter before him. He was
extraordinarily loath to let Aileen peril herself, but on the other hand
he could not let Malcolm suffer the penalty of the law without making an
effort on his behalf. Raasay was tied hand and foot by the suspicions of
the government and was forced to consent to leave the matter in our hands.
He made only the one stipulation, that we should go by way of Edinburgh
and take his Aunt Miss MacBean with us as chaperone.
We embarked on the smuggler next day for the Long Island and were landed
at Stornoway. After a dreary wait of over a week at this place we took
shipping on a brig bound for Edinburgh. Along the north coast of Scotland,
through the Pentland Firth, and down the east shore _The Lewis_ scudded.
It seemed that we were destined to have an uneventful voyage till one day
we sighted a revenue cutter which gave chase. As we had on board _The
Lewis_ a cargo of illicit rum, the brig being in the contraband trade,
there was nothing for it but an incontinent flight. For some hours our
fate hung in the balance, but night coming on we slipped away in the
darkness. The Captain, however, being an exceedingly timid man for one in
his position, refused absolutely to put into the Leith Road lest his
retreat should be cut off. Instead he landed us near Wemyss Castle, some
distance up the coast, and what was worse hours before the dawn had
cleared and in a pelting rain.
I wrapped Volney's cloak around Aileen and we took the southward road,
hoping to come on some village where we might find shelter. The situation
might be thought one of extreme discomfort. There were we three--Aileen,
her maid, and I--sloshing along the running road in black darkness with
the dreary splashing of the rain to emphasize our forlorn condition. Over
unknown paths we travelled on precarious errand. Yet I for one never took
a journey that pleased me more. The mirk night shut out all others, and a
fair face framed in a tartan shawl made my whole world for me. A note of
tenderness not to be defined crept into our relationship. There was a
sweet disorder in her hair and more than once the wind whaffed it into my
face. In walking our fingers touched once and again; greatly daring, mine
slipped over hers, and so like children we went hand in hand. An old
romancer tells quaintly in one of his tales how Love made himself of the
party, and so it was with us that night. I found my answer at last without
words. While the heavens wept our hearts sang. The wine of love ran
through me in exquisite thrills. Every simple word she spoke went to my
heart like sweetest music, and every unconscious touch of her hand was a
caress.
"Tired, Aileen?" I asked. "There is my arm to lean on."
"No," she said, but presently her ringers rested on my sleeve.
"'T will be daylight soon, and see! the scudding clouds are driving away
the rain."
"Yes, Kenneth," she answered, and sighed softly.
"You will think I am a sad blunderer to bring you tramping through the
night."
"I will be thinking you are the good friend."
Too soon the grey dawn broke, for at the first glimmer my love disengaged
herself from my arm. I looked shyly at her, and the glory of her young
beauty filled me. Into her cheeks the raw morning wind had whipped the
red, had flushed her like a radiant Diana. The fresh breeze had outlined
her figure clear as she struggled against it, and the billowing sail was
not more graceful than her harmonious lines.
Out of the sea the sun rose a great ball of flaming fire.
"A good omen for the success of our journey," I cried. "Look!
"'Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.'
"The good God grant it prove so, Kenneth, for Malcolm and for all our
friends."
After all youth has its day and will not be denied. We were on an anxious
undertaking of more than doubtful outcome, but save when we remembered to
be sober we trod the primrose path.
We presently came to a small village where we had breakfast at the inn.
For long we had eaten nothing but the musty fare of the brig, and I shall
never forget with what merry daffing we enjoyed the crisp oaten cake, the
buttered scones, the marmalade, and the ham and eggs. After we had eaten
Aileen went to her room to snatch some hours sleep while I made
arrangements for a cart to convey us on our way.
A wimpling burn ran past the end of the inn garden, and here on a rustic
bench I found my comrade when I sought her some hours later. The sun was
shining on her russet-hair. Her chin was in her hands, her eyes on the
gurgling brook. The memories of the night must still have been thrilling
her, for she was singing softly that most exquisite of love songs "Annie
Laurie."
"'Maxwelton's braes are bonnie,
Where early fa's the dew,
Where me and Annie Laurie
Made up the promise true.'"
Her voice trembled a little, and I took up the song.
"'Made up the promise true,
And ne'er forget will I;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me doun and dee.'"
At my first words she gave a little start, her lips parted, her head came
up prettily to attention, and though I could not see them I was ready to
vow that she listened with shining eyes. Softly her breath came and went.
I trod nearer as I sang.
"'Her brow is like the snaw-drift,
Her throat is like the swan,
She's jimp about the middle,
Her waist ye weel micht span.'
"Oh, Aileen, if I might--if I only had the right! Won't you give it me,
dear heart?"
In the long silence my pulse stopped, then throbbed like an aching tooth.
"I'm waiting, Aileen. It is to be yes or no?"
The shy blue eyes met mine for an instant before they fluttered
groundward. I could scarce make out the low sweet music of her voice.
"Oh, Kenneth, not now! You forget--my brother Malcolm----"
"I forget everything but this, that I love you."
In her cheeks was being fought the war of the roses, with Lancaster
victorious. The long-lashed eyes came up to meet mine bravely, love lucent
in them. Our glances married; in those clear Highland lochs of hers I was
sunk fathoms deep.
"Truly, Kenneth?"
"From the head to the heel of you, Aileen, lass. For you I would die, and
that is all there is about it," I cried, wildly.
"Well then, take me, Kenneth! I am all yours. Of telling love there will
be many ways in the Gaelic, and I am thinking them all at once."
And this is the plain story of how the great happiness came into Kenneth
Montagu's life, and how, though all unworthy, he won for his own the
daughter of Raasay.