White Heather: A Novel (Volume 2 of 3). William Black
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Название: White Heather: A Novel (Volume 2 of 3)
Автор: William Black
Издательство: Public Domain
Жанр: Зарубежная классика
isbn: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43445
isbn:
'Or something else, perhaps,' said he – for instantly it flashed upon him that it was something better than a mere copy that was needed for Meenie's book. Here, indeed, was a chance. If there was any inspiration to be gained from these wild hills and straths and lonely lakes, now was the time for them to be propitious; would not Clebrig – the giant Clebrig – whose very child Meenie was – come to his aid, that so he might present to her some fragment of song or rhyme not unworthy to be added to her little treasury?
'I will send for the book to-morrow,' said he.
'I hope it will not give you too much trouble,' said she, as they reached the small gate, 'but it is very pleasant to turn over the leaves and see the actual writing of your friends, and think of when you last saw them and where they are now. And that seems to be the way with most of our friends; I suppose it is because we have moved about so; but there is scarcely any one left – and if it was not for a letter occasionally, or a dip into that album, I should think we were almost alone in the world. Well, good-night, Ronald – or will you come in and have a chat with my father?'
'I am afraid it is rather late,' he said.
'Well, good-night.'
'Good-night, Miss Douglas,' said he, and then he walked slowly back to his home.
And indeed he was in no mood to turn to the scientific volumes that had already arrived from Glasgow. His heart was all afire because of the renewal of Meenie's kindness; and the sound of her voice was still in his ears; and quite naturally he took out that blotting-pad full of songs and fragments of songs, to glance over them here and there, and see if amongst them there was any one likely to recall to him when he was far away from Inver-Mudal the subtle mystery and charm of her manner and look. And then he began to think what a stranger coming to Inver-Mudal would see in Meenie? Perhaps only the obvious things – the pretty oval of the cheek and chin, the beautiful proud mouth, the wide-apart contemplative eyes? And perhaps these would be sufficient to attract? He began to laugh with scorn at this stranger – who could only see these obvious things – who knew nothing about Meenie, and the sweetness of her ways, her shrewd common-sense and the frank courage and honour of her mind. And what if she were to turn coquette under the influence of this alien admiration? Or perhaps become sharply proud? Well, he set to work – out of a kind of whimsicality – and in time had scribbled out this —
Who will buy pansies?
There are her eyes,
Dew-soft and tender,
Love in them lies.
Who will buy roses?
There are her lips,
And there is the nectar
That Cupidon sips.
Who will buy lilies?
There are her cheeks,
And there the shy blushing
That maidhood bespeaks.
'Meenie, Love Meenie,
What must one pay?'
'Good stranger, the market's
Not open to-day!'
He looked at the verses again and again; and the longer he looked at them the less he liked them – he scarcely knew why. Perhaps they were a little too literary? They seemed to lack naturalness and simplicity; at all events, they were not true to Meenie; why should Meenie figure as a flippant coquette? And so he threw them away and turned to his books – not the scientific ones – to hunt out something that was like Meenie. He came near it in Tannahill, but was not quite satisfied. A verse or two in Keats held his fancy for a moment. But at last he found what he wanted in Wordsworth —
'A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye;
– Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.'
Yes; that was liker Meenie – who 'dwelt among the untrodden ways.'
CHAPTER V
A LESSON IN FLY-FISHING
Miss Carry Hodson returned from Paris in a very radiant mood; she had had what she called a real good time, and everything connected with the wedding had gone off most successfully. Her dress, that she had ordered long before she came to the Highlands, was a perfect fit; Lily Selden made the most charming and beautiful of brides; and no less a person than a prince (rather swarthy, and hailing from some mysterious region east of the Carpathians) had proposed the health of the bridesmaids, and had made especial mention of the young ladies who had travelled long distances to be present on the auspicious occasion.
However, on the morning after her return to Inver-Mudal her equanimity was somewhat dashed. When she went along the passage to the little hall – to see what the morning was like outside – she found waiting there a respectable-looking elderly Highlander, with grizzled locks, who touched his cap to her, and who had her waterproof over his arm. This last circumstance made her suspicious; instantly she went back to her father.
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