went home for further help. With eyes closed in painless slumber, and hands crossed in prayer upon his breast, the faithful shepherd lay; his sunburnt face had waxed white as the surrounding evening-tinted snow, and the strong-made limbs. that had borne him over every hill and glen around, were stark now; never more would he tread his native heather, or bow in prayer upon the solitary mountain heights. When the last plaid was wound round the frozen body, Ewen came forward, and, without word or comment, placed his shoulder with the others beneath the stiffened corpse, and so helped to carry his only brother along. Glenbenrough walked first, and maintained deep silence also. Three times did Conas stop the cavalcade, in the intuitive sagacity of his species, as he came upon a wreath underneath which a sheep still breathed—known by the small circular spot made on the surface by the warm breath of the sheep buried beneath; unassisted, the sagacious animal dug them out, and drove them on to the sheep fank, which the mournful bearers passed about a mile from where Huistan had lain him down. As they passed, they whispered, 66 See; he saved nigh all the ewies first! There they are, housed within the fank! It was his last journey to drive the very last o' them into safety, when the blast came down upon himsel'. Och Huistan voch!" And the laird, as he heard the bleating of the shepherdless sheep from their shelter, mournfully exclaimed, "Huistan, I would have given all my flocks for your life." When they came to Sandie Cameron's house, about a mile from Lochandhu, they halted. Ewen and Glenbenrough pressed on, to break to Florh the afflicting visitation; also, the laird desired to get Esmé and Ishbel home from the house of death. They sobbed more for Huistan than did his mother: it is not the way among the Highland lower classes; but her grief took vent in wild Gaelic apostrophe, and passionate demonstration of gesture. "My bairn! my bairn an' was the snow wreath your winding-sheet? an' the dumb collie your dying mourner? How hae ye been cut off with a stroke, and departed for ever from your mither an' your countrie! Gae bring him in, till I make my moan on my eldest son. I didna prize him sufficient afore. Oh, Ewen, Ewen! ye're the only one now. dinna never gae break your mither's heart. Can ye be to me as eldest and youngest son? Gae, get ye gone for my brave Huistan, wha was an earthly gude shepherd and gave his life for his charge. Bring him in, till I cry for his loss-cry sair, Oh! cry sair! I am wearied and tentless now for my eldest son!" The snow was falling fast and gloomily as the girls reached home, and the rising winds had been muttering fierce threats of speedy outbreak from the hills, as, with a man at the head of each horse, they had made their way in the gathering darkness of evening from Lochandhu to Glenbenrough. More than once had they been dismounted by the headlong plunge of the horse, but thrown always harmlessly on the soft-piled snow; and, by the time the house was reached, excitement, grief, and cold had roughly tried the buoyant, but fine-strung frames of the Highland girls. Glenbenrough was so grieved and shocked at Huistan's loss, that he retired to his study, and the girls took tea in their own room. The impression of Huistan's sad wintry death did not wear off with them for long. Florh received the utmost sympathy of their hearts in this trial, while Glenbenrough marked his in many substantial ways. He installed Florh rent free at Lochandhu, and gave her Huistan's saved earnings (which he had always lodged with the laird), with very large interest added. He also defrayed the costs of Huistan's funeral; which took place on a scale sufficient to gratify even the pride of Florh and Ewen on this point: for this is one of the most honoured ceremonies in the Highlands. The laird acted as chief mourner, with mother and son, and put up a tablet to the memory of his faithful servant, in the little churchyard on the banks of Loch Monach. When spring advanced, Ewen alone, and without opinion or approval asked from any other, built a cairn on the lonely spot where his brother died: he piled the upper stones into such a sharp conical form that no succeeding snows of winter ever rested upon the top, in obliteration of the rugged monument to the faithful shepherd in gloomy Glen Madhu. CHAPTER XX. TIDINGS FROM ENGLAND. Thus with delight we linger to survey From dark oblivion glows divinely there. CAMPBELL'S Pleasures of Hope. THE sadness which the mournful event of Huistan's death had thrown over the household of Glenbenrough was relieved by the news constantly communicated by Norah of her visit to Fairleigh Park. Norah wrote very long letters, such as only sisters write to each other, to Esmé and Ishbel, who 'read them aloud to their beloved father, as he sat before the evening fire warming his open hands at the flame of the resinous native pine, the genial glow of his kindly nature brightening his listening face, as he smiled or interposed gay comment. Norah ought to have been very happy at Fairleigh Park, for it was a luxurious, delightful house, and Sir Henry and Lady Lauriston were more than kind. Lady Lauriston, to good sense and a bright, straightforward disposition, united thoughtfulness for every one, and had the happy art of combining comfort with discipline, and Sir Henry, with his easy temper, enjoyed life without a shadow. Norah wrote descriptions of all the neighbouring places and people, characterizing the scenery and people as alike rich, cultivated, and agreeable, but rather flat. Esmé well knew that the one element was wanting, without which the happiness or pleasures of Elysium would not have satisfied; and as she opened each successive letter, her eye would instinctively seek for Harold's name; at last it appeared. Quite at the end of one of her letters, Norah wrote, "I noticed a paragraph in the local paper here last night, announcing the arrival of Mr. Harold at his place, which is about fifteen miles from hence: I wonder if we will ever meet! People think more of distance in this part of the world than they do in the Highlands." Norah's next letter contained more satisfactory particulaars. “Mr. Harold has been here," she wrote: "he called the day before yesterday, and spent all the afternoon here, and Sir Henry and Lady L. asked him to dine yesterday, when he came. He has been in London transacting some business since he left the North. Mr. Marchmoram and Mr. Auber are there, also, just now. I asked Mr. Harold a great deal about the latter, dear Esmé. He says Mr. Auber has been engaged in a large lawsuit, which, if he gains it, will give him another property in another county (the name of his place is Emersant Park, in Devonshire); but as it is still, and will be for some time, undecided, he talks of going abroad, and spending the winter at Rome. I knew by Mr. Harold's face, when he was speaking of Mr. Auber, that he thought of you, Esmé darling! and he looked uncomfortable: he spoke with a sort of restraint, quite different from the way in which he mentioned Mr. Marchmoram. Esmé, dearest, don't let yourself think about this Mr. Auber. He is a man who will always take care of his own peace; and do you take care he does not quite wreck yours." Nearly ten days elapsed ere Norah wrote again, and then she spoke more fully. "MY OWN DEAR ESME AND ISHBEL, "Fairleigh Park. "I sit down to have a long chat with you both, and can write uninterruptedly, for Sir Henry and Lady Lauriston have gone to call at Brittonberg Castle, which is about fourteen miles from here, in the opposite direction from Harold's Hall, and they have taken Julia with them. I have some news to give which I think will interest you both. "A few days after I wrote last, a note came from Mr. Harold inviting Sir H. and Lady L., Julia and myself, to dine, and meet the duke and Lady Ida, who were staying there; accordingly on Thursday evening, at half-past six o'clock, we left, and reached Harold's Hall by eight. You will like to hear of our dresses: I wore my gold-coloured silk (which you have never seen) and made up a wreath of holly, spiked with snowberries, in our own fashion. Julia wore pale blue silk, with Christmas roses, and looked very pretty: a dress that would have suited you, Esmé. It being dark ere we reached the Hall, I cannot describe the outward appearance of the house, which is on a very large scale; but the approach was up an avenue of grand old elms, and in the park, which extends for miles, are some magnificent oaks of great age. The spacious suite of reception rooms were all lighted up, and the effect was splendid. Mr. Harold was the same as host at the head of that grand dining-table, as he was sitting beside the glowing turf fire at Dreumah, only a little less free and lively, as if his duties as host made him more grave. Mr. Harold took Lady Mornden into dinner, and Lady Ida sat on his right hand: and who, think you, took her? (Here Esme's eyes, as she read, were dimmed for a moment.) Mr. Marchmoram! I was so surprised and so glad to see him in the crowd of gentlemen: for you may imagine I felt inwardly not a little shy. He has gone to Brittonberg to-day; and he is to stand for the borough of Lillsdale, a most important seat. The duke's interest goes with Mr. Marchmoram, and since I came here I have heard much of his talent; they say that the duke, since his accession to office, has strongly desired the co-operation of Mr. Marchmoram, and himself proposed his standing for Lillsdale. "The conservatory at Harold's Hall is very beautiful, and Mr. Harold himself gathered me a lovely bouquet of exquisite heaths in the evening; and, to please Mr. Harold, I sang a few of our Highland airs; but Lady Ida's manner prevented my attempting anything more: it was too condescending to suit my Highland blood. Dear Esmé, I think she would rouse the hot blood into your cheek too, merely by her own coldness; and her manner to myself does not please me at all: even Mr. Harold reddened as he overheard the supercilious way in which she deigned to cross-question me as to Glenbenrough. Mr. Marchmoram was near me at the time; and his face twitched, and those strange lights in his eyes began to play when Lady Ida spoke to me as she did. The weight of public life seems already pressing heavily upon him: he was silent and absent; rarely spoke to any lady, and even his manner to myself I thought strange. He sat down frequently beside me; but never once spoke freely of home. "Is papa busy just now? Tell him that when he comes for me, he must come in good time, that we may enjoy ourselves here together; and he must be at his leisure all the time. Mr. Harold wishes us to spend a day at Harold's Hall this week, so that I may see it by daylight. Fondest love and kisses and ever, dearest Esmé and Ishbel, believe in the affection of : "Your loving sister, "NORAH." |