AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.
Coquette did not observe the presence of Lord Earlshope for some
time. She was much engaged in the service, which was quite new to
her. First of all, the Minister rose in his pulpit and read out a
psalm; and then, under him, the Precentor rose, and begun, all by
himself, to lead off the singing, in a strong harsh voice which had
but little music in it. The tune was "Drumclog;" and as Coquette
listened, she mentally grouped its fine and impressive melody with
chords, and thought of the wonderful strength and sweetness that
Mendelssohn could have imparted to that bare skeleton of an air. The
people groaned rather than sung; there was not even an attempt at
part-singing; the men merely followed the air an octave lower, except
when they struck into quite a different key, and produced such
dissonances as are indescribable. If the use of the piano were not
entirely proscribed, she promised to herself that she would show the
Whaup next morning the true character of that simple and noble air
which was being so cruelly ill-treated.
There followed a long extempore prayer, and another psalm--sung to
the plaintive "Coleshill"--and then there came the sermon. She tried
hard to understand it, but she could not. It was an earnest and
powerful appeal; but it was so clothed in the imagery of the Jewish
prophets--so full of the technical phrases of the Scotch
preachers--that she could not follow it. Her English had been
chiefly gathered from the free and easy conversation of her father,
and even that had been modified by the foreign pronunciation of her
mother; so that such phrases as "the fulfilment of the covenant,"
"girding up the loins," "awakening unto grace," and so forth,
conveyed no meaning to her whatever. In spite of her best endeavours
she found herself dreaming of the Loire--of St. Nazaire, of Guérande,
of the salt plains that lie between that town and Le Croisic, and of
the Breton peasants in their _bragous-bras_ and wide hats, making
their pilgrimages to the church of Notre Dame de Mûrier.
The sight of Lord Earlshope had made the Whaup both savage and
wicked. He proposed to Wattie to play "Neevie, neevie,
nick-nack"--an offer which Wattie looked upon as the direct
instigation of the devil, and refused accordingly.
When, at last, Coquette caught the eyes of Lord Earlshope fixed upon
her, she was surprised to see him so intently regarding her. There
was something wistful, too, in his look; his face bearing an
expression of seriousness she did not expect to find in it. During
the brief period in which he talked to her he had left upon her the
impression of his being merely a light-hearted young man, who had
winning ways, and a good deal of self-confidence. But the fact is,
she had paid no very great attention to him; and even now was not
disposed to look upon his fixed gaze as anything beyond a mere
accident. She turned her eyes aside; tried once more to follow the
sermon; and again subsided into dreaming of Bourg de Batz, and the
square pools of the salt plains, with the ancient walls of Guérande
filling up the horizon of her imagination.
When the service was over, and they had got outside, the Whaup
bundled them off on the road towards the Manse with but little
ceremony, taking care that Coquette should be in front.
"What has changed you?" she said, in some surprise. "I did think you
were good friends with me on coming to the church."
"Never mind," he said, abruptly; and then he added, sharply, "Did you
see Lord Earlshope there?"
"Certainly I have seen him."
"What business had he there?"
"People go not to the church for business," she said, with a laugh.
"He has not been in that pew for years," said the Whaup, gloomily.
"Perhaps he is becoming a good man?" she said, lightly, making a
careless effort to catch a butterfly that fluttered before her face.
"He has plenty to alter then," said the Whaup, with frowning brows.
She looked at him curiously, and laughed. Then she turned to the
Whaup's brother.
"Wattie, will you run with me to the house?"
She held out her hand.
"No, I'll no," said Wattie. "Ye are a Roman, and can get absolution
for a' the ill ye dae."
"I will, an' ye like," said the youngest of the brothers, Dougal,
timidly.
"Come along, then!"
She took his hand, and, before Leezibeth or Andrew could interfere,
they were fleeing along the rough road towards the Manse, far in
front of the others. Dougal, young as he was, was a swift runner;
but the foreign lassie beat him, and was evidently helping him. All
at once Dougal was seen to stumble and roll forward. Coquette made a
desperate effort to save him, but in vain; and while he fell prone
upon the ground, she was brought nearly on her knees. The little
fellow got up, looking sadly at one of his hands, which was sorely
scratched with the gravel. He regarded her, too, dumbly; clenching
his lips to keep himself from crying, although the tears would gather
in his eyes. In an instant she had overwhelmed him with pitying
caresses, and soft French phrases of endearment, while she carefully
smoothed his torn hand with her handkerchief.
"You will come with me to my room, and I will heal it for you."
She carried him off before the others had arrived; and washed his
hand; and put cold cream on it; and gave him a whole box of French
chocolate--a dainty which he had never seen before, but which he
speedily appreciated. Then she said,
"Come along, now, and I will sing you something--Alas! no, I must not
open my piano any more."
It was the first time Dougal had ever heard anybody say "alas!"--a
word which Coquette had picked up from her English books. He began
to distrust all this kindness and all these fascinating ways. What
Coquette knew of English was more English than Scotch in
pronunciation. Now, everybody in Airlie was aware of the curious
fact that all actors, and public singers, and such people, generally,
as live by their wits, were English; and an English accent was
therefore in itself suspicious. If this young lady in the white
muslin dress, with the yellow ribbons in her black hair, was not
actually French she was English, which was only a shade less
deplorable. Dougal accepted the brown and sweet little balls of
chocolate with some compunction, and hoped he was doing no mortal sin
in eating them.
After the "interval," as it was technically called, they had to go to
church again, and here Coquette's patience nearly gave way. Nor was
the situation rendered less grievous by the Whaup informing her
severely that in Airlie there was no such thing as idle walking about
on the Sabbath--that the whole of the afternoon she would not even be
permitted to go into the garden, but would have to sit indoors and
read a "good book." The Whaup was not ill-pleased to have to convey
this information: he fancied Lord Earlshope might be prowling about.
There was a "tea dinner" at four o'clock, consisting exclusively of
cold meats, with tea added. Thereafter, the whole family sat down in
solemn silence to their books--the list being the Bible, the Shorter
and Longer Catechisms, Hutcheson's Exposition, Dr. Spurstow on the
Promise, the Christian's Charter, Bishop Downham on the Covenant of
Grace (these last "printed for _Ralph Smith_, at the _Bible_ in
_Cornhill_"), and Josephus. By this copy of Josephus there hangs a
tale.
Dougal, remembering that business of the chocolate, came over to
Coquette, and whispered--
"If ye are freends wi' the Whaup, he'll show ye the third vollum o'
Josephus."
Indeed, the boys manifested the most lively curiosity when the Whaup
appeared bearing the third volume of Josephus in his hand. They
seemed to forget the sunlight outside, and the fresh air of the moor,
in watching this treasure. The Whaup sat down at the table (the
Minister was at the upper end of the room, in his arm-chair) and the
third volume of Josephus was opened.
Coquette perceived that some mystery was abroad. The boys drew more
and more near to the Whaup; and were apparently more anxious to see
the third volume of Josephus than anything else. She observed also
that the Whaup, keeping the board of the volume up, never seemed to
turn over any leaves.
She, too, overcome by feminine curiosity, drew near. The Whaup
looked at her--suspiciously at first, then he seemed to relent.
"Have ye read Josephus?" he said aloud to her.
"No," said Coquette.
"It is a most valuable work," said the Minister from the upper end of
the room (the Whaup started), "as giving corroboration to the sacred
writings from one who was not himself an advocate of the truth."
Coquette moved her chair in to the table. The Whaup carefully placed
the volume before her. She looked at it, and beheld--two white mice!
The mystery was solved. The Whaup had daringly cut out the body of
the volume, leaving the boards and a margin of the leaves all round.
In the hole thus formed reposed two white mice, in the feeding and
petting of which he spent the whole Sunday afternoon, when he was
supposed to be reading diligently. No wonder the boys were anxious
to see the third volume of Josephus; and when any one of them had
done a particular favour to the Whaup, he was allowed to have half an
hour of the valuable book. There were also two or three leaves left
in front; so that, when any dangerous person passed, these leaves
could be shut down over the cage of the mice.
They were thus engaged when Leezibeth suddenly opened the door, and
said--
"Lord Earlshope would speak wi' ye, sir."
Astonishment was depicted on every countenance. From time immemorial
no visitor had dared to invade the sanctity of Airlie Manse on a
Sabbath afternoon.
"Show him into my study, Leezibeth," said the Minister.
"By no means," said his lordship, entering, "I would not disturb you,
Mr. Cassilis, on any account. I have merely called in to say a
passing word to you, although I know it is not good manners in Airlie
to pay visits on Sunday."
"Your lordship is doubtless aware," returned Mr. Cassilis, gravely,
"that it is not any consideration of manners that leads us to keep
the Sabbath inviolate from customs which on other days are lawful and
praise-worthy."
"I know, I know," said the young gentleman, good-naturedly, and
taking so little notice of the hint as to appropriate a chair; "but
you must blame my English education if I fall short. Indeed, it
struck me this morning that I have of late been rather remiss in
attending to my duties; and I made a sort of resolve to do better.
You would see I was at church to-day."
"You could not have been in a more fitting place," said the Minister.
Mr. Cassilis, despite the fact that he was talking to the patron of
the living--Lord Earlshope's father had presented him to the parish
of Airlie--was not disposed to be too gracious to this young man,
whose manner of conduct, although in no way openly sinful, had been a
scandal to the neighbourhood.
"He'll have a heavy reckonin' to settle i' the next worl'," Andrew
used to say, "be he lord or no lord. What think ye, sirs, o' a young
man that reads licht books and smokes cigaurs frae the rising o' the
sun even till the ganging doon o' the same; and roams about on the
Lord's day breaking in a wheen pointers?"
The boys looked on this visit of Lord Earlshope as a blessed relief
from the monotony of the Sunday afternoon; and while they kept their
eyes steadily directed on their books, listened eagerly to what he
had to say. This amusement did not last long. His
lordship--scarcely taking any notice of Coquette in his talk, though
he sometimes looked at her by chance--spoke chiefly of some repairs
in the church which he was willing to aid with a subscription; and,
having thus pleased the Minister, mentioned that Earlshope itself had
been undergoing repairs and redecoration.
"And I have no near neighbours but yourselves, Mr. Cassilis, to see
our new grandeur. Will you not pay Earlshope a visit? What do you
say to coming over, the whole of you, to-morrow, and seeing what I
have done? I dare say Mrs. Graham will be able to get some lunch for
you; and I should like your niece--whom I had the pleasure of seeing
on her way here--to give me her opinion about an organ that has been
sent me from abroad. What do you say? I am sure the boys will enjoy
a holiday in the grounds, and be able to find amusement for
themselves."
If the Whaup dared to have spoken, he would have refused in indignant
terms. The other boys were delighted with the prospect--although
they were still supposed to be reading. Coquette merely looked at
Mr. Cassilis, apparently without much interest, awaiting his answer.
Mr. Cassilis replied, in grave and dignified terms of courtesy, that
he would be proud to avail himself of his lordship's invitation; and
added that he hoped this re-establishment of the relations which had
existed between Earlshope and the Manse in the time of his lordship's
father meant that he, the present Lord Earlshope, intended to come
oftener to church than had been his wont of late. The hint was
conveyed in very plain language. The young nobleman, however, took
it in good part, and speedily bade them good evening. He bowed to
Coquette as he passed her; and she acknowledged this little
manifestation of respect, with her eyes fixed on the ground.