Donald Ross of Heimra (Volume 3 of 3). William Black
penned this note: —
"Lochgarra House, Tuesday Morning.
"Dear Mr. Ross, – I do not know whether I told you that, before Mrs. Armour left to return to Canada, I promised to send her a series of photographs of Lochgarra and the neighbourhood. I am arranging to have a photographer come through from Inverness, and any time that you happen to be over here I should be exceedingly obliged if you would spare me a few minutes to let me know what places would be likely to prove most interesting to her.
"Now, you see," she said, as she rather triumphantly handed the letter to Käthchen, "that demands nothing. He does not need to reply unless he happens to have plenty of time and nothing else to do. It merely shows that, as far as I am concerned, I don't consider that anything has occurred to disturb our friendly relations. It was so clever of you to think of it, Käthchen! And I must send word to Big Archie that I shall want him and his boat. I'm afraid it's too rough to try the steam-launch. I'm so much obliged to you, Käthchen, for thinking about it!"
Indeed, she was quite joyous and radiant. Her keen remorse, and shame, and piteous despair seemed wholly to have fled; she was possessed with an audacious confidence; a sort of gratitude towards all the world shone in her eyes. And Käthchen, who had studied this young woman closely, and who was capable of drawing conclusions, knew perfectly the origin of this buoyancy of spirit: the letter Mary had just written demanded no answer, it is true, but none the less was she in her heart convinced that an answer – an answer confirming all her best anticipations – would be forthcoming, and that without delay. Big Archie was bidden to haste and get his lugger ready: he was to set out for Heimra at once.
Kate Glendinning was not the only one in this house who could draw conclusions, or at least form suspicions. When the two gentlemen returned that evening from the hill, they found the letters and newspapers that had arrived by the mid-day post spread out on the hall-table; and they began to glance at addresses and tear open envelopes. Fred Stanley was soon satisfied; he went off to his room to change for dinner; but his elder companion remained – holding a letter in his hand, and apparently much concerned about something. At this moment Käthchen appeared, passing across to the door leading out into the garden; and the instant he caught sight of her his eyes seemed to light up with interest. Here was a friend in need.
"Miss Glendinning," said he, in something of an anxious undertone, "could you give me a couple of minutes? Are you going into the garden? May I come with you? I want to ask you to do me a great service – how great I can hardly tell you."
Käthchen was surprised; for this trim, brisk, bronze-cheeked, shrewd-eyed sportsman generally took things in a very happy-go-lucky, imperturbable fashion. But her instant conjecture was a natural one: "Be sure this is about Mamie!" she said to herself.
Well, he accompanied her down the stone steps and into the garden, where she began to employ herself in cutting flowers for the dining-room table, while she listened attentively enough.
"The fact is," said he, "I have just had a letter from home, with no very good news. My father, who is an old man, has been an invalid for a great many years, varying in health from time to time; but now it seems he has had a very bad attack of asthma along with his other ailments, and the doctors have ordered him off to Bournemouth – "
"I am very sorry," said Käthchen, as in duty bound.
"And – I have received an intimation that I may be telegraphed for – I might have to leave here at a moment's notice almost." He hesitated for a second or so. "Miss Glendinning," he said, "you see how I am situated: I may be called away at any moment – with something that is of great importance to me left unsettled. I have been living in a fool's paradise; I thought there was plenty of time. And then, again, I did not care to confide in any one. But now I am going to appeal to you. Will you tell me something in strictest confidence – something you are likely to know? It might save your friend – you can guess whom I mean – much embarrassment, even pain; and it would be the greatest favour you could possibly confer on me."
And now Käthchen knew her surmise was correct; and perhaps she may have been inclined to think that there was something incongruous, something even humorous, in this ordinarily cool and firm-nerved person appearing to be afflicted by the hesitation of an anxious lover, only that she was also aware of the gravity of the situation. For tragic things may happen even to the steeled.
"Miss Glendinning," said he, "I want you to tell me if there is anything between Mr. Ross and Miss Stanley?"
Well, this was a frank challenge; and she answered it as frankly.
"I do not think there is," she said; "but I think there might be at any moment. That is only my impression; and I may be quite wrong; and indeed I have no right to say so – "
"But I have appealed to you as a friend, to do me this great favour," said he; and then he paused for a second. "The fact is," he went on, as if with some unwillingness, "I have noticed one or two odd things – Miss Stanley's indignation with her brother if he said anything against Mr. Ross – and the painful scene of yesterday evening – these things might lead one to conjecture – "
"Oh, but I'm sure there is nothing between them – nothing at present, at least," said Käthchen, with some earnestness; for this assurance she could honestly give him; and when did a perplexed and troubled lover ever appeal in vain to a woman's heart? "There is nothing between them at present, I am certain of that; and whether there ever may be, who can tell? Both of them have peculiar natures. Both of them are proud; and she, besides that, is wilful and impulsive; while he is reserved – and – and you might almost think cold – only that I imagine his studiously keeping away from her, and treating her with a kind of distant civility, has some meaning and intention in it. I don't think he would like to become the slave of any woman; and she – well, she is very independent, too. And then both of them are very peculiarly situated: there is the old-standing feud between the two families; it must have been hard on him and on his mother to have strangers coming into the neighbourhood, tearing down the old landmarks. There are things that the Highland nature can never forget; and Mary knows that well; more than once she has said to me, 'Käthchen, there are wrongs that can never be undone; I can never rebuild Castle Heimra.'"
"Yes, yes, I quite understand," said he, rather absently; "and yet Ross does not seem to bear any resentment – not against her. No, nor against any one belonging to her. I must say for him that his forbearance yesterday towards Fred Stanley was most remarkable: that was another thing that struck me as peculiar. And yet you say there is nothing between him and Miss Stanley?"
"Nothing, I am certain," Käthchen assured him again.
"I am so awfully obliged to you!" he said, with some little expression of relief; and yet he was thoughtful and silent as they walked back to the house – Käthchen having got all the flowers she wanted.
That night, after dinner, when the two young ladies retired to the drawing-room, Mary seemed somewhat disturbed.
"Don't you think it rather strange, Käthchen," she said, "that Big Archie brought no message back from Heimra? I don't mean an answer. I don't mean an answer to my note. That was not necessary – it was hardly to be expected. But why has he not come to say he delivered my letter?"
She went to one of the windows, and pulled aside part of the blind. The night had turned out rather dark and squally; and there were spots of rain on the glass that caught the light of the lamps within.
"I should like to see Big Archie," said she, with a vague restlessness. And then of a sudden she made this abrupt proposal: "Käthchen, won't you come down with me into the village? Barbara says the gentlemen have gone into the billiard-room, for there is a threatening of rain; but we could put on waterproofs, and run away down there and back, without anything being known of it."
"Is it worth while, Mamie?" Käthchen remonstrated. "He must have delivered your note!"
"Yes; but it is so strange there should be no message of any kind!" said Mary. And then she instantly added, changing her tone: "Of course, it is not at all strange. Only – only, Big Archie sometimes takes a glass of whisky, you know; and he might have got some answer that he has forgotten – perhaps