White Heather: A Novel (Volume 3 of 3). William Black

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      It was a strange kind of mood for a young fellow to have fallen into; but he did not seem to think so. As he contemplated the scrawled lines – with rather an absent and preoccupied air – this was what he was saying to himself —

      'If the old gentleman would only come striding along the Port Dundas Road, I know one that would be glad enough to go out and meet him and shake hands with him, this very minute.'

      He went to the window and threw it open, and sate down: the outer air would be pleasanter than this inner atmosphere, impregnated with the fumes of whisky and tobacco; and his head was burning, and his pulses heavy. But the dreariness of this outlook! – the gray pavements, the gray railway station, the gray sheds, the gray skies; and evermore the dull slumberous sound of the great city already plunged in its multitudinous daily toil. Then he began to recall the events of the preceding evening; and had not Mrs. Menzies promised to call for him, about eleven, to drive him out to see some of her acquaintances at Milngavie? Well, it would be something to do; it would be a relief to get into the fresher air – to get away from this hopeless and melancholy neighbourhood. Kate Menzies had high spirits; she could laugh away remorse and discontent and depression; she could make the hours go by somehow. And now, as it was almost eleven, he would finish his dressing and be ready to set out when she called; as for breakfast, no thought of that entered his mind.

      Then he chanced to see something white lying on the floor – an envelope – perhaps this was a note from Kate, saying she was too busy that morning and could not come for him? He went and took up the letter; and instantly – as he regarded the address on it – a kind of bewilderment, almost of fear, appeared on his face. For well he knew Meenie's handwriting: had he not pondered over every characteristic of it – the precise small neatness of it, the long loops of the l's, the German look of the capital R? And why should Meenie write to him?

      He opened the envelope and took out the bit of white heather that Meenie had so hastily despatched: there was no message, not the smallest scrap of writing. But was not this a message – and full of import, too; for surely Meenie would not have adopted this means of communicating with him at the mere instigation of an idle fancy? And why should she have sent it – and at this moment? Had she heard, then? Had any gossip about him reached Inver-Mudal? And how much had she heard? There was a kind of terror in his heart as he went slowly back to the window, and sate down there, still staring absently at this token that had been sent him, and trying hard to make out the meaning of it. What was in Meenie's mind? What was her intention? Not merely to give him a sprig of white heather with wishes for good luck; there was more than that, as he easily guessed; but how much more? And at first there was little of joy or gladness or gratitude in his thinking; there was rather fear, and a wondering as to what Meenie had heard of him, and a sickening sense of shame. The white gentleness of the message did not strike him; it was rather a reproach – a recalling of other days – Meenie's eyes were regarding him with proud indignation – this was all she had to say to him now.

      A man's voice was heard outside; the door was brusquely opened; Jimmy Laidlaw appeared.

      'What, man, no ready yet? Are ye just out o' your bed? Where's your breakfast? Dinna ye ken it's eleven o'clock?'

      Ronald regarded him with no friendly eye. He wished to be alone; there was much to think of; there was more in his mind than the prospect of a rattling, devil-may-care drive out to Milngavie.

      'Is Kate below?' said he.

      'She is that. Look sharp, man, and get on your coat. She doesna like to keep the cob standing.'

      'Look here, Laidlaw,' Ronald said, 'I wish ye would do me a good turn. Tell her that – that I'll be obliged if she will excuse me; I'm no up to the mark; ye'll have a merrier time of it if ye go by yourselves; there now, like a good fellow, make it straight wi' her.'

      'Do ye want her to jump doon ma throat?' retorted Mr. Laidlaw, with a laugh. 'I'll tak' no sic message. Come, come, man, pull yoursel' thegither. What's the matter? Hammer and tongs in your head? – the fresh air 'll drive that away. Come along!'

      'The last word's the shortest,' Ronald said stubbornly. 'I'm not going. Tell her not to take it ill – I'm – I'm obliged to her, tell her – '

      'Indeed, I'll leave you and her to fight it out between ye,' said Laidlaw. 'D'ye think I want the woman to snap my head off?'

      He left, and Ronald fondly hoped that they would drive away and leave him to himself. But presently there was a light tapping at the door.

      'Ronald!'

      He recognised the voice, and he managed to throw a coat over his shoulders – just as Kate Menzies, without further ceremony, made her appearance.

      'What's this now?' exclaimed the buxom widow – who was as radiant and good-natured and smartly dressed as ever – 'what does this daft fellow Laidlaw mean by bringing me a message like that? I ken ye better, Ronald, my lad. Down in the mouth? – take a hair o' the dog that bit ye. Here, see, I'll pour it out for ye.'

      She went straight to the bottle, uncorked it, and poured out about a third of a tumblerful of whisky.

      'Ronald, Ronald, ye're an ill lad to want this in the morning; but what must be, must; here, put some life into ye. The day'll be just splendid outside the town; and old Jaap's with us too; and I've got a hamper; and somewhere or other we'll camp out, like a band of gypsies. Dinna fear, lad; I'll no drag ye into the MacDougals' house until we're on the way back; and then it'll just be a cup o' tea and a look at the bairns, and on we drive again to the town. What's the matter? Come on, my lad! – we'll have a try at "Cauld Kail in Aberdeen" when we get away frae the houses.'

      'Katie, lass,' said he, rather shamefacedly, 'I'm – I'm sorry that I promised – but I'll take it kind of ye to excuse me – I'm no in the humour someway – and ye'll be better by yourselves – '

      'Ay, and what good 'll ye do by pu'ing a wry mouth?' said she tauntingly. '"The devil was ill, the devil a saint would be." Here, man! it's no the best medicine, but it's better than none.'

      She took the whisky to him, and gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder. There was a gleam of sullen fire in his eye.

      'It's ill done of ye, woman, to drive a man against his will,' he said, and he retreated from her a step or two.

      'Oh,' said she proudly, and she threw the whisky into the coal-scuttle, and slammed the tumbler down on the table, for she had a temper too, 'if ye'll no be coaxed, there's them that will. If that's what Long John does for your temper, I'd advise you to change and try Talisker. Good morning to ye, my braw lad, and thank ye for your courtesy.'

      She stalked from the room, and banged the door behind her when she left. But she was really a good-hearted kind of creature; before she had reached the outer door she had recovered herself; and she turned and came into the room again, a single step or so.

      'Ronald,' she said, in quite a different voice, 'it 'll no be for your good to quarrel wi' me —

      'I wish for no quarrel wi' ye, Katie, woman – '

      'For I look better after ye than some o' them. If ye'll no come for the drive, will ye look in in the afternoon or at night, if it suits ye better? Seven o'clock, say – to show that there's no ill feeling between us.'

      'Yes, I will,' said he – mainly to get rid of her; for, indeed, he could scarcely hear what she was saying to him for thinking of this strange and mysterious message that had come to him from Meenie.

      And then, when she had gone, he rapidly washed and dressed, and went away out from the house СКАЧАТЬ