CHAPTER VI
A THREATENED INVASION
Mary rose quickly, her clear eyes showing such obvious pleasure that Käthchen was inclined to be indignant. 'Mamie, have you no pride!' Käthchen said in her heart. 'It is not becoming in a young woman to be so grateful – for an ordinary piece of civility. And Mary Stanley of all people!' Well, Mary Stanley did not seem to be governed by any such considerations; she went forward to receive her visitor with the frankest smile of welcome lighting up her face; the magic-working dimple did its part.
"I am so glad you have called," said she, "for I was thinking of writing to you, and I was not sure whether you were at Heimra. We have not seen the yacht coming and going of late."
"No," said he, as he took the chair nearest her (and Käthchen remarked that his eyes, too, showed pleasure, if less openly declared), "I went down as far as Portree in the
Consuelo
– or I would have called before now. Did you want to see me about – about anything?"
And this question he asked with a curious simplicity and directness of manner. There was none of the self-consciousness of a young man addressing a remarkably pretty young woman. It was rather like an offer of neighbourly help: what trouble was she in now?
"I was wondering," she made answer, with a little timidity, "whether you would care to go out on the Twelfth with my brother and Mr. Meredyth. It is not a very grand shooting, as you know; but you would get some little amusement, I suppose; and Miss Glendinning and I would come and have lunch with you – if we were not in the way."
This ought to have been a sufficiently attractive invitation; but the observant Käthchen noticed that the young man hesitated.
"Thank you very much," said he; "it is most kind of you to have thought of me; but the fact is I'm not much of a shot, and I shouldn't like to spoil the bag. Of course, your brother will want to see what the moor can yield; and with fair shooting two guns should give a very good account of Lochgarra; so that it would be really a pity to spoil the Twelfth by bringing in a useless gun. Thank you all the same for thinking of me – "
"Oh, perhaps you don't care about shooting?" said Mary. "Perhaps you are fonder of fishing?"
And hardly were the words out of her mouth when some sudden recollection of that phantom poacher rushed in upon her mind; a hideous dread possessed her; how could she have been so unutterably indiscreet? Not only that, but there was yesterday's incident of the hurling of the stone into the salmon-pool: would he imagine that she suspected him – that she was probing into a guilty knowledge? She was bewildered by what she had done; and yet determined to betray no consciousness of her blunder. A ghastly and protracted silence seemed to follow her question; but that was merely imagination on her part; he answered her at once – and that in the most natural manner, without a trace of embarrassment.
"I am a poor enough shot," said he, with a smile, "but I am even a worse fisherman. You see, there is hardly any shooting on Heimra Island, but there is still less fishing – none at all, practically. As for the shooting, there are some rabbits among the rocks, and occasionally I have seen a covey of grouse come flying across from the mainland; but the truth is, when you get used to the charm of quiet in a place like that, you don't want to have it broken by the banging of a gun – "
"Oh, no, of course not," said Mary, with a certain eagerness of assent – for she was overjoyed to find that nothing had come of her fancied indiscretion. "Of course not. I can quite imagine there must be a singular fascination in the solitariness of such an island, and the – the – silence. A fascination and a charm; and yet when Miss Glendinning and I have been up among the hills here, sometimes it has seemed too awful – too lifeless – it became terrible. Then out at Heimra – the sea being all round you in the night – and the bit of land so small – that must be a strange sensation; but perhaps you don't notice it as a stranger might; you must have got used to it – "
"Yes," said he, "it is very solitary and very silent. All the same," he added, rather absently, "I dare say I shall miss that very solitariness and silence when I go away from Heimra, as I hope to do ere long. I should not wonder if I looked back with some regret."
"Oh, you are going away from Heimra – and before long?" Mary repeated – and Käthchen glanced quickly at her.
"I hope so," he said. "Well, I would not trouble you with my schemes and plans, but for the fact that they indirectly concern you." She looked startled for a second; but he proceeded with a certain easy cheerfulness of manner which Käthchen thought became him; and he spoke in a confidential and friendly way, more than was his wont: "Yes; if what I am aiming at succeeds it will make your position here a good deal easier. I know the difficulties you have to contend with on an estate like this – the poverty of the soil – families growing up and marrying, and still clinging to the small homesteads – the distance from markets – the climate – and all that. And indeed my first scheme – my ideal scheme," he went on, in this frank kind of fashion, "was comprehensive enough: I wanted nothing less than to take away the whole of the population with me – not the surplus population merely, but the whole of the people bodily, leaving the sheep and the game in undisturbed possession. That would have made matters easy for you – and for Mr. Purdie. I thought I could carry them away with me to one of the colonies; and get a grant of Crown Lands from the Government; and be appointed to look after the settlement, so that I could live and die among those I have known from my childhood. There was only one point of the scheme that I was absolutely sure about, and that was that the people would go if I asked them – yes, to the very oldest. 'If I have to be carried on board the ship,' one of them said to me – "
"Have you considered – the terrible responsibility?" she said, in rather a breathless way.
"Yes, indeed," said he, gravely. "And that comprehensive project was not practicable: it was too big – too visionary. But for some time back I have been making inquiries: indeed I went down to Portree chiefly to see one of the Committee who manage the Emigrants' Information Office – he is taking his holiday in Skye at present. And if in a more modest and reasonable way I could take a number of the people away with me, and found a little colony out in Queensland or in Canada, that would give you some relief, and make it easier for those remaining behind – would it not? North-Western Canada and Queensland – perhaps you know – are the only colonies that offer the immigrant a free homestead of 160 acres; and Canada is especially hospitable, for at all the ports there are Government agents, for the purpose of giving the immigrants every information and procuring them work. Oh, I am very well aware," he continued – seeing that she was silent and absorbed – "that emigration is not a certain panacea. There is no assurance that the emigrant is going to leave all his ills and troubles behind him. Very often the first generation have to suffer sore hardship; then the next reap the reward of their toil and perseverance. And home-sickness – well, plenty of them never get over that; and naturally, if they are home-sick, they exaggerate their sufferings and misfortunes." He sought in his pockets and brought out a letter. "Perhaps you would care to read that – I found it awaiting me when I came home this time."
She took the letter, and looked at it in rather a perfunctory way. It was clear that her mind was fixed on something quite different. Perhaps she was thinking of that distant settlement – out among the pines and snows of the North-West – or far away under the Southern Cross: the drafted people working with a right goodwill, and concealing their home-sickness, and making light of their hardships, so long as Young Donald was with them. Perhaps she was thinking of the denuded Lochgarra, and of the empty Eilean Heimra. After all, it was something to have a neighbour, even if he lived in that lonely island. And if she were doing her best with the people who remained – fostering industries, spreading education, bettering their condition in every way – well, there would be no one to whom she could show what she had done. What did her brother care for such things? – her brother was thinking only of grouse, and black-game, and grilse. Frank Meredyth? – she more than suspected that his affectation of interest was only a sort of compliment paid to herself. And then there was another thing, more difficult to formulate; but away deep down in her heart somewhere there had sprung up a vague desire that some day or other she might be able to show Donald Ross how sorry she was for the injuries he had suffered at the hands of her family. When once a close and firm friendship had been established between them, he might be induced to forgive. But if he were going away, while as yet he and she were almost strangers? And she knew that the people who might remain with her at Lochgarra would say to themselves that she was the one who had driven Young Donald across the seas.
She forced herself to read the letter —
"Armadale, Minnesona, Canada.
"Mr. Ross of Heimra. – Sir, – Peter Macleod was showing me the letter you was writing to him, and asking about me, and he said it my duty to answer and give Mr. Ross the news. We have not much comfort here; I think the Lord was not pleased with us that we left our own country and come to America. My wife is very seeck; and while she has the seeckness on her I cannot go away and get railway work; and there are the five children, the oldest of them twelve, and not able to do mich. I have a cow that is giving mulk. I have a yoke of oxen. There is not a well; but I will begin at it soon. I have found a Lochgarra man, wan Neil Campbell, about five miles from here; it is a pleasure to me that I have the jance of speaking my own langwich. I have twelve tons of hay. The soil is good; but the weather verra bad; ay, until the end of May there was frost every night, and many's the time hailstones that would spoil the crop in half an hour. I bought ten bolls of meal forbye
1
1
Forbye – besides.
the Government's supply; and if I had not had a little money I do not know what I would have done; and now the money is gone, and I cannot go away to work and leave my wife with the seeckness on her; and maybe if I did go away I would not get any work whatever. What to do now it is beyond me to say, and we are far away from any friends, my wife and me. When I went to Kavanagh to bring the doctor to my wife I was hearing the news from home that they believed I had brokken my leg. But it is not my legs that are brokken – it is my heart that is brokken. There has been no happiness within me since the day I left Loch Torridon and went away to Greenock to the steamer. That was a bad day for me and my family; we have had no peace or comfort since; it's glad I would be to see Ru-na-uag once more – ay, if they would give me a job at brekkin stones. This is all the news I am thinking of; and wishing Mr. Ross a long life and happiness, I am, your respectful servant,
"ANGUS MACKAY."
"Poor man!" said Mary. And then she looked up as she handed back the letter. "I should have thought," she continued, addressing Donald Ross, "that a report like that would have caused you to hesitate before recommending any more emigration. Was it you who sent that poor man out?"
"Oh, no," he answered at once; "that Angus Mackay lived at Loch Torridon – a long way south from here. I only got to know something of him accidentally. But mind you, Miss Stanley, I would not assume that even in his case emigration has been a failure. That letter is simply saturated with home-sickness. I should not be at all surprised to hear in a year or two that Angus was doing very well with his farm; and it is almost a certainty that when his family have grown up they will find themselves in excellent circumstances. Of course it is hard on him that his wife should be ill, especially with those young children – but these are misfortunes that happen everywhere."
"Emigration?" she repeated (and Käthchen could tell by her tone that this scheme of his found no favour in her sight). "So that is your cure for the poverty and discontent in the Highlands? But don't you think it is rather a confession of failure? Don't you think if the landlords were doing their duty there would be no need to drive these poor people away from their homes? No doubt, as you say, families grow up and marry, while the land does not increase; but look at the thousands upon thousands of acres that at present don't support a single human being – "
"You mean the deer-forests?" he said quite coolly (for the owner of the little island of Heimra had not much personal and immediate interest in the rights and duties of proprietors). "Yes; they say that is the alternative. They say either emigration or throwing open the deer-forests to small tenants and crofters – banishing the deer altogether, limiting the sheep-farms, planting homesteads. It sounds very well in the House of Commons, but I'm afraid it wouldn't work in practice. Such deer-forests as I happen to know are quite useless for any such purpose; the great bulk of the soil is impossible – rocks and peat simply; and then the small patches of land that might be cultivated – less than two acres in every thousand, they say – are scattered, and remote, and inaccessible. Who is to make roads, to begin with – even if the crofters were mad enough to imagine that they could send their handful of produce away to the distant markets with any chance of competition?"
But she was not convinced: a curious obstinacy seemed to have got hold of her.
"I can't help thinking," she repeated, "that emigration is a kind of cowardly remedy. Isn't it rather like admitting that you have failed? Surely there must be some other means? Why, before I came to Lochgarra I made up my mind that I would try to find out about the crofters who had gone away or been sent away, and I would invite them to come back and take up their old holdings."
"It would be a cruel kindness," said he. "And I doubt whether they would thank you for the offer. Yes, I dare say some would; and on their way back to their old home they would be filled with joy. When they came in sight of Ru-Minard I dare say they would be crying with delight; and when they landed at Lochgarra they would be for falling on their knees to kiss the beloved shore. But that wouldn't last long. When they came to look at the sour and marshy soil, the peat-hags, and the rocks, they would begin to alter their mind – "
"In any case," said she, "I have abandoned the idea for the present; I find I have already plenty on my hands. And I don't confess that I have failed yet. I am doing what I can. It is a very slow process; for they seem to imagine that whatever I suggest is for my own interest; at the same time, I don't see that I have failed yet. And as for emigration – "
"But, Miss Stanley," said he seriously, "you don't suppose I would take away any number of the people without your consent?"
At this she brightened up a little.
"Oh, it is only if there is a necessity? Only as a necessity, you mean?"
"Perhaps there is something of selfishness in it, too," he admitted. "Of course, I don't like the idea of living in Eilean Heimra all my life – not now: I am free from any duty; and – and perhaps there are associations that one ought to leave behind one. And if I could get some post from the Government in connection with this emigration scheme – if I could become the overseer of the little settlement – I should still be among my own people: no doubt that has had something to do with my forecasts – "
"But at all events," she interposed, quickly, "you won't be too precipitate? It is a dreadful responsibility. Even if they exaggerate their hardships through home-sickness, that is not altogether imaginary: it is real enough to them at the time. And if actual suffering were to take place – "
"I know the responsibility," he said. "I am quite aware of it. All that I could do would be to obtain the fullest and most accurate information; and then explain to the people the gravity of the step they were about to take. Then it is not a new thing; there are quite trustworthy accounts of the various colonial settlements; and this evidence they would have to estimate dispassionately for themselves."
"Mr. Ross!" she remonstrated. "How can you say such a thing! You told me just now that the whole of those people would follow you away to Canada or Australia if you but said the word. Is that a fair judgment of evidence? I don't think you could get rid of your responsibility by putting a lot of Bluebooks before them – "
"I see you are against emigration," he said.
"It may be necessary in some places – I don't know yet that it is here," she answered him. "I would rather be allowed to try." And then she said – looking at him rather timidly – "If you think I have not given them enough, I will give them more. There is no forest land, as you know; but – but there is some more pasture that perhaps Mr. Watson might be induced to give up. I have given them Meall-na-Cruagan; if you wish it, I will give them Meall-na-Fearn. Mr. Watson was most good-natured about Meall-na-Cruagan; and I dare say there would be no difficulty in settling what should be taken off his rent if he were to give up Meall-na-Fearn and Corrie Bhreag. And – and there's more than that I would try before having people banished."
Kate Glendinning observed that this young man changed colour. It was an odd thing – and interesting to the onlooker. For usually he was so calm, and self-possessed, and reserved: submissive, too, so that it was only at times that he raised his keen black eyes to the young lady who was addressing him: he seemed to wish to keep a certain distance between them. But these last words of hers appeared to have touched him. The pale, dark face showed a sense of shame – or deprecation.
"You must not imagine, Miss Stanley," said he, "that I came to ask for anything. You have already been most generous – too generous, most people would say. It would be imposing on you to ask for more; it would be unfair; if I were in your position, I would refuse. But I thought my scheme might afford you some relief – "
"And if you went away with them, what would you do with Heimra Island?" she said, abruptly – and regarding him with her clear, honest eyes.
"That I don't know," said he, "except that I should be sorry to sell it. And it would not be easy to let it, even as a summer holiday place. There is no fishing or shooting to speak of; and it is a long way to come. For a yachtsman it might make convenient headquarters – "
"But you would not sell the island?" she asked again.
"Not unless I was compelled," he made answer. "I might go away and leave it for a time – the letting of the pasture would just about cover the housekeeper's wages and the keeping up of the place; and then, years hence, when my little community in Australia or Canada was all safely established – when the heat of the day was over, as they say in the Gaelic – I might come back there, and spend the end of my life in peace and quiet. For old people do not need many friends around them: their recollections are in the past."
And then he rose.
"I beg your pardon for troubling you about my poor affairs."
"But they concern me," she said, as she rose also, "and very immediately. Besides that, we are neighbours. And so I am to understand that you won't do anything further with your emigration scheme – not at present?"
"Nothing until you consent – nor until you are quite satisfied that it is a wise thing to embark on. And indeed there is no great hurry: I can't keep my last term until November next. But by then I hope to have learnt everything there is to be learned about the various emigration-fields."
She rang the bell; but she herself accompanied him to the door, and out into the hall.
"By the way," said she, "what has become of Anna Chlannach? – I thought you were to tell her to come to me, so that I could assure her she shouldn't be locked up in any asylum?"
"I'm afraid Anna has not got over her fear of you," said he, with a smile. "She seems to think you tried to entrap her into the garden, where Mr. Purdie was. And it isn't easy to reason with Anna Chlannach."
"Oh, then, you see her sometimes?" she asked.
"Sometimes – yes. If Anna catches sight of the
Sirène
coming across, she generally runs down to Camus Bheag, and waits for us, to ask for news from the island."
"Will you tell her that I am very angry with her for not coming to see me – when Barbara could quite easily be the interpreter between us?"
"I will. Good-bye!"
"Good-bye!" said she, as he left.
But she did not immediately go back to the drawing-room, and to Käthchen, and the dyed wools. She remained in the great, empty oak hall, slowly walking up and down – with visions before her eyes. She saw a name, too: it was
New Heimra
. And the actual Heimra out there – the actual Heimra would then be deserted, save, perhaps, for some old housekeeper, who would sit out in the summer evenings, and wonder whether Young Donald was ever coming back to his home. Or perhaps an English family would be in possession of that bungalow retreat: the children scampering about with their noisy games: would they be silent a little, when chance brought them to the lonely white grave, up there on the crest of the hill?
She was startled from her reverie by some sound on the steps outside, and, turning, found her brother and Frank Meredyth at the door.
"Now, Mamie, see what comes of all your coddling!" Fred Stanley exclaimed as he came forward, and he held a piece of paper in his hand. "This is a pretty state of affairs! But can you wonder? They easily find out where the place is ripe for them – where the people have been nursed into insolence and discontent – and on the Twelfth, too – oh, yes, the Twelfth! – when they expect the keepers to be up on the hill, so they'll be able to break a few of the drawing-room windows on their way by – "
"What are you talking about?" she said, in answer to this incoherent harangue; and she took the paper from him. It was a handbill, rather shabbily printed; and these were the contents: —
THE HEATHER ON FIRE!
THE HEATHER ON FIKE!
The Land for the People! – Away with Sheep, Deer, and Landlords! – The Landlords must go! – Compulsory Emigration for Landlords! – Men of the Highlands, stand up for your rights! – Down with Southern Rack-Renters!
To THETENANTS, CROFTERS, AND COTTARS OFLOCHGARRA AND NEIGHBOURHOOD: A PUBLIC MEETING
Will be held in Lochgarra Free Church, on Monday the 12th of August, at one o'clock. Addresses by Mr. JOSIAH OGDEN, M.P., Miss ERNESTINE SIMON, of Paris, and Mrs. ELIZABETH JACKSON NOYES, of the Connecticut Council of Liberty. Mr. JOHN FRASER, Vice-President of the Stratherrick Branch of the Highland Land League, will preside.
ADMISSION FREE
Men of Lochgarra! – attend in your hundreds:
"Who would be free themselves must strike the blow!"
Well, Mary was not the least bit frightened.
"I don't see why they shouldn't hold a public meeting," said she, as she handed him back the bill.
"Why, there will be a public riot!" he said. "You haven't seen the great placards they have pasted up on the walls – done with a big brush – I suppose they were afraid to print them; but if you go down through the village you will see what they're after. '
Sweep the sheep off Meall-na-Fearn
' – '
Take back the land
' – '
A general march into Glen Orme
.'"
"Glen Orme deer-forest has nothing to do with me," she said.
"Do you think they will draw such fine distinctions?" he retorted. "I can tell you, when once the march has begun, they won't stop to ask whose fences they are tearing down; and a shot or two fired through your windows is about the least you can expect. And that is what comes of coddling people: they think they can terrorise over you whenever they choose – they welcome any kind of agitator, and think they're going to have it all their own way. And can't you see who suggested the Twelfth to them? I'll bet it was that fellow Ross – a clever trick! – either we lose the opening day of the shooting – and that would make him laugh like a cat – or else we leave the place free for those parading blackguards to plunder at their will."
"At all events, Miss Stanley," interposed Frank Meredyth, in a calmer manner, "there can be no harm in postponing our grouse shooting until the Tuesday. I think it will be better for Fred and myself to be about the premises – and the keepers too – until this little disturbance has blown over."
"Who are those people?" she said, taking back the paper and regarding it. "Mr. Ogden I know something of – mostly from pictures of him in
Punch
; but I thought it was strikes and trade unions in the north of England that he busied himself with. What has brought him to Scotland?"
"Why, wherever there is mischief to be stirred up – and notoriety to be earned for himself – that is enough for a low Radical of that stamp!" her brother said. He was a young man, and his convictions were round and complete.
"And Miss Ernestine Simon – who is she?"
"Oh, you don't know Ernestine?" said Frank Meredyth, with a smile. "Oh yes, surely! Ernestine, the famous
pétroleuse
, who fought at the Buttes Chaumont and got wounded in the scramble through Belleville? You must have heard of her, surely! Well, Ernestine is getting old now; but there is still something of the sacred fire about her – a sort of
mouton enragé
desperation: she can use whirling words, as far as her broken English goes."
"And Mrs. Noyes?" Mary continued. "Who is Mrs. Jackson Noyes, from Connecticut?"
"There I am done," he confessed. "I never heard of Mrs. Jackson Noyes in any capacity whatever. But I can imagine the sort of person she is likely to be."
"And what do those people know about the Highlands?" Mary demanded again.
"What they have been told by the Land League, I suppose," was his answer – and therewithal Miss Stanley led the way back to the drawing-room, to carry these startling tidings to Kate Glendinning.
But she was very silent and thoughtful all that evening; and when the two gentlemen, after dinner, had gone out on the terrace to smoke a cigar, she said —
"Käthchen, I am going to confide in you; and you must not break faith with me. You hear what is likely to happen next Monday. Very well: Mr. Meredyth and Fred both want to remain about the house, along with the keepers, in case there should be any disturbance, any injury done to the place. Now I particularly wish that they shou