202 CHAPTER XVI. ENTANGLEMENTS. My bonny lassie hies away!-GILFILLAN. I ken ye 're thinkin A certain bardie's rantin, drinkin, Some luckless hour will send him linkin But, faith! he'll turn a corner jinkin, And cheat you yet.-BURNS. A WEEK flew round at Strathshielie. They were no slaves to time there hours commingled wonderfully; late breakfasts and luncheons merged into dinner; after which, the older lairds grew prosy over punch and claret, and their sapient discourse on sport and county business became somewhat overclouded. The young men sought the drawing-room, where the piper nightly introduced himself, and dancing and round games were kept up until the ladies were exhausted, when the smoking-room received the stronger men. Sir Henry and Lady Lauriston were the first to talk of leaving: a long journey was before them, and if they stayed much later in the season, there would be difficulty in procuring post-horses on the Highland road. It had been arranged that Julia Mac Neil should accompany them from Strathshielie on a visit to England, and two days ere they left, Glenbenrough yielded to Lady Lauriston's urgent desire that Norah also should join the party. There had been a warm early friendship betwixt Lady Lauriston and Norah's mother, to whom Lady Lauriston had looked up as with the love of a younger sister; and she now transferred this affection to her friend's daughter, to whom she promised to act the part of an elder sister. There were only two days to think of this proposal, which came upon all three sisters as a surprise. Esmé and Ishbel would not entertain any selfish regret, though it would be almost the first parting from each other; for it was to be a happy one, as Norah was certain to enjoy herself in England; her letters would be a pleasure to them, and she would write frequently. The bustle of Norah's packing was soon over, as not much of her wardrobe could go with her: it would not do to wear tartan skirts and Glengarry bonnets in England. Everything was ready the evening before, and Norah was standing at the window of her room, when Esmé joined her, and saw tears in her eyes. Norah wiped them away, as she said, hesitatingly, 66 "I am so sorry not to have been able to go to Glenbenrough, to have said good-bye to our dear old home, Esmé; to have seen the people, and Kelpie, and all again.' Esmé knew there was another adieu which Norah would have liked to have spoken, and that it was first in her thoughts just then; so she whispered, "Never mind, dear Norah; you will meet him soon in England. I believe this unexpected visit of yours to Yorkshire has been arranged for you; and I expect it to turn out well in every way.' When Esmé returned to the drawing-room, her father gave her a letter, addressed to Marchmoram, to seal. She felt sure he must have mentioned Norah's departure in it, and thus Harold would hear of it next morning; but she thought it best to say nothing to Norah, lest her sister might count upon the chance of a farewell. Next day the travelling carriage appeared punctual to the hour, soon after breakfast, and Norah parted from her father and sisters. The latter had sat up half the night together, having last words and little closing scenes of alternate joy and grief over Norah's plans and absence. When Glenbenrough placed Norah beside Lady Lauriston, he gave her over without a parting injunction; but he told her ladyship he would come to England for his daughter ere the heather bloomed again, and that he must carry back with him more than her. Lady Lauriston called out, with a gay laugh, that she and Sir Henry would return to the Highlands with him. Esmé and Ishbel ran up a bank in front of the house to get a vanishing view of the carriage, and then, with arms entwined, they sauntered on along the track of the wheels; neither of them spoke, until Ishbel, leaning her head on Esmé's shoulder, said, "I am glad we are going home to-morrow," a feeling to which Esmé assented with a weary sigh. When they got back to the house, they found Harold seated in the drawing-room. He said he had driven from Droumah to pay a morning call; but his absent manner and perturbed expression did not show any flattering satisfaction in the result: he had arrived an hour too late. As Harold rose to leave, he said, "Well, I must soon be on my southward way. It is time that Harold's Hall should be warmed for the winter. Marchmoram will come south with me; shooting at Dreumah is becoming too hard work: even so far as the red deer are concerned, his heart is not in the Highlands at présent." Esmé and Ishbel returned home with their father next day. How beautiful Glenbenrough looked, as they came in sight of the river, golden in the light from the setting sun, while the approaching gloaming made shadowy the Roua Pass and all the surrounding hills. The russet hues of autumn were now making rapid advance; the wild cherry-trees taking their hectic red of decline 'mongst the changing tints of pale green and golden yellow. This is the time when a Highland autumn takes its repose, ere the rough snows and storms of winter come to arouse it the atmosphere floating languidly in a dreamy quiescence, after the warmth of summer. Florh was at the house when the family arrived; having come to hear of the truth of Norah's departure, which she loudly lamented. As Florh assisted in unpacking in Esmé's room, she continued to lament Norah. "Ah weel, ah weel!" she cried, "an' she's gone to England's countrie. I hope Miss Norah will come back as she went; but I think there is one will go soon after her. I want none of my bairns to mate wi' England; but an' it's no you, Esmé, dearie, I may had my peace. What would I hae done had you gone in place o' Miss Norah? I would hae gone after you and keepit you from them. I tell ye, Esmé, ye wad nae live in England; ye wad die there! What could you do, wanting pure air and the rocky rivers o' the north? Could you live in a country where the burns run like kennels, and the air is full o' reek? and would ye like the scent of turnip-fields in place o' the heather and the birch? Avoid it! avoid it! “I am not in the least likely to go to England, Florh," said Esmé quietly, 66 so you need not think of it; and even if I ever did go from the Highlands, I would be very sure to return again and again to them." "You'll ne'er-ne'er go!" Florh replied; and she crossed herself (after a fashion she had acquired from her Roman Catholic mother) while she looked upon Esmé with the eye of a basilisk. "Ken I no your fate? "Oh, Florh! hush, hush!" exclaimed Esmé, sighing feverishly. 66 Maybe ye 'll be glad to hear that I yet hae firm hand o' the joint clue o' Ewen an' Jeanie Cameron," said Florh after a pause. *Have they made friends again, then ?" "No," Florh replied quickly; "that would not be yet my wish. Oh! that foreign lad o' Mr. Harold's; he's clever beyond compare my mind an' my heart draw to him as to a son." : "Florh, I intensely dislike the man!" Esmé pronounced decidedly. 66 "Weel, he's my right arm! to me o' priceless use: an' I'll yet make use o' him for yoursel', ma guil," she muttered. Mony's the hour o' pleasant companie he gies to me: but for him I never could hae staved off frae Ewen the truth o' his lassie's misdoings; for Ewen is aye at him, knowing that Gupini could gie witness o' any doings at Dreumah: he presses him hard, but Gupini can twirl my Ewen like a sling in his hand. An' I like to see him do it, for I am above baith him an' Ewen. Gupini listens to me; an' I hae confidence to work wi' him: the lad is really fond o' me." Florh was right in the apparent fact of her having gained some influence over Gupini; he took actual pleasure in Florh's society; it was something congenial and refreshing in that otherwise very narrowed sphere to which this Highland shooting box confined him. He perceived Florh's strength of character, and appreciated her natural shrewdness; she could listen to his accounts of his travels with intelligent belief, applaud his adroitness, and enter into many of his experiences and adventures abroad. The girls had been settled quietly at home for about a week ; Ishbel had gone with Glenbenrough to a sheep-farm at some distance off, and Esmé was sitting in the garden on her rocky seat, writing at a little desk upon her knee, when suddenly a shadow fell upon the paper, and the stock of a gun came lightly down upon her shoulder. She looked up with a startled smile, and saw Normal Arduashien behind her. He threw himself down upon the grass, saying, "Oh, I am a wearied traveller, Esmé. I have walked from Arduashien this morning, and must be off to Lochandhu, where a dog-cart meets me: I am to be at Strathshielie in time for dinner." "Back to Strathshielie again! This looks suspicious, Normal," said Esmé, with an arch smile. "I suspect-I suspect!" 66 Don't, for you would be very far out," and Normal gave a fatigued sigh. "I am on my way to Thistlebank." "Oh! to Thistlebank! and Esmé's face clouded; she scarce knew why. "Well, you will of course come back this way: I shall want to hear all about your visit, Normal. Now do notice what takes place in the drawing-room for once, as much as if it were in the woods." “Why should I do so?" asked Normal, with a slightly sullen look: "what interest have you there, Esmé? You have strange interests; they are not readable to me. Esmé, your power is cruel: I will not lie under it." "You are far more unreadable than I am, Normal," returned Esmé, looking down upon her paper, "and you know you always were. I have just been writing my will, and I have left you a lock of my hair.” Normal's face flushed deeply as he replied, “I have more need to write my will than you, for I am going abroad. I feel I must throw off home trammels and boyish hallucinations," and he glanced half bitterly at Esmé, whose eyes now opened in surprise; "if I am ever to do any good: I only wait my father's consent to start at once.' "When did you think of this, Normal?" asked Esmé sorrowfully. She whispered to herself, "All are leaving me. me." "The wish has long been stirring, and now can be refused no longer: I am going into some of the realities of life. I shall lead no dreaming existence abroad, Esmé; but seek occupation for mind and body, and go wherever both shall be exercised." He looked wistfully at her, and continued in a quiet, thrilling voice, "Esmé, the past pleasure in my life has been a dream; a bright visionary fabric, that I have spent many a foolish hour over: I am only a castle-builder, after all." 66 They say youthful fabrics are unstable, Normal," Esmé replied gravely," and you and I are very young." Yes; I am unknown, unproved: that is true." And he sighed bitterly. "When I return, it will be otherwise; but then it will be too late." The next moment a different mood seemed to cross his mind. Turning, almost savagely, his light hazel eye, sparkling like a hawk's, he said quickly, "Leave no remembrance to me, Esmé; I don't want it." "Will you remember me without it?" she asked, looking up with an appealing, half-mocking smile. "I think we hae been friends together too long for either to forget the other, Esmé. I shall be away for a very long time; and when I come back to the Highlands, you most likely will have left them: exchanged the deer's-grass for richer pastures;" |