The Eyes of Love. Barbara Cartland

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Any disparagement of the Scots by the new Earl would be received with horror and deep resentment.

      “You will understand,” the Minister went on, “that because the last Earl was so ill for a long time before he finally died, there was much left undone that should now be put in hand, including repairs to The Castle itself. The only person who can give the orders for this to be carried out is, of course, his Lordship.”

      “And he refuses?” Vara asked.

      “I am afraid he cannot, or will not, understand the particulars when they are read to him by Mr. Bryden or by anybody else in The Castle.”

      “They must feel deeply offended,” Vara commented in a low voice.

      “It is something that, if talked about outside, could do him a great deal of damage,” the Minister said. “Everybody has been looking forward to having a young Chieftain with new ideas who will encourage and initiate new local industries to employ the local people.”

      Vara was well aware that this was true.

      Like most of the ordinary people of Scotland, the McDorns relied on their spinning and their fishing to earn money to live on.

      They thought of their Chieftain not only as their Leader but as their shepherd.

      To them he was a father-figure, who would inspire and comfort them at all times.

      The idea of the Earl being too English even to understand their speech would strike them like a blow.

      Vara knew that it would be very difficult for them to accept it.

      “What can you do about it?” she asked the Minister.

      “The answer to that, Vara, is what will you do about it?”

      “Me?” Vara enquired.

      “Mr. Bryden wants someone who can read to his Lordship in an English accent, but there is no one here who is capable of doing that except for yourself.”

      Vara’s eyes widened, but she knew that the Minister was speaking the truth.

      Like most upper-class children, even of Scots blood, she had been brought up to speak with an English accent and had completed her education in England.

      There was silence until she queried,

      “Are you really asking me to go to The Castle and read to his Lordship?”

      “I am begging you to do so,” the Minister answered. “Mr. Bryden has been very loyal and has kept people who are curious away from him. At the same time he says he dare not let the fishermen, the gamekeepers, the gillies or anyone else near his Lordship because he will undoubtedly tell them that he cannot understand what they are saying.”

      “And obviously has no wish to do so,” Vara remarked. “It seems to me he is a very spoilt young man and somebody should warn him what harm he can do if he continues to behave in such a ridiculous manner.”

      “I would doubt if what you are suggesting would do any good,” the Minister answered. “He seems most reluctant to accept the position in which he finds himself and deeply resents that he cannot see. Equally he hates offers of pity or sympathy because, I think, he finds it degrading.”

      Lady McDorn sighed.

      “I can see your problem, Minister.”

      “I have a feeling,” the Minister said, “that it could be solved if Vara, who has always been a very clever girl, could not only read to him but try to impress upon him that the Clan really needs his leadership.”

      Vara knew that this was very true.

      The last Earl had been over eighty when he died and for the last five years of his life he had been completely senile.

      No one had seen him except the Minister and the doctors, who admitted that they could do nothing for him.

      Vara knew as well that her father would have commiserated with the Elders.

      Everything they claimed was going to rack and ruin without their Chieftain to inspire and direct them.

      She had often thought when she was in England that the Scots were very childlike in many ways and they relied perhaps too much on their Chieftain to solve every problem for them.

      She did not stop to think over what the Minister had just asked of her, but said without hesitating,

      “Of course, if I can do any good, I will come to The Castle. Would you like to take me back with you today?”

      “If it is not asking too much,” the Minister replied. “I think it would be most helpful if you would stay at The Castle for a few days.”

      “Stay there?” Vara questioned. “But why?”

      “Mr. Bryden tells me that because his Lordship is in darkness, he does not know night from day. Mr. Bryden is not a young man and he is often called from his bed to answer some question that is puzzling the Earl or to read something to him that he has not understood.”

      “Oh, poor Mr. Bryden,” Vara sympathised. “He is just far too old to be woken up in the middle of the night.”

      “That is exactly what I think,” the Minister agreed, “and Donald, his Lordship’s personal servant, is also beginning to feel the strain.”

      “Well, I shall certainly tell his Lordship that I need my beauty sleep,” Vara said firmly, “and, if he is being too selfish and inconsiderate, I shall disconnect the bells when no one is looking!”

      The Minister laughed while Lady McDorn suggested,

      “Darling, you must try to understand that for a young man it is intolerable to be blind. I am sure he wants to be out catching salmon in the river and shooting grouse on the moors.”

      “If he wants to get well, that will be half the battle,” Vara ventured.

      She looked at the Minister and asked,

      “What do the doctors say are the chances of his regaining his sight?”

      “I have talked to Dr. Adair,” the Minister said, “who has the reports from the specialists in London. He told me that the Earl’s case is a very strange one.”

      “Strange? In what way?” Vara asked.

      “Well, apparently they cannot find anything wrong with his eyes. It is just that the Earl cannot see!”

      “But there obviously is something very wrong,” Vara remarked.

      “If you ask me,” Lady McDorn chipped in, “I think most doctors are very much behind the times. I am always reading in the newspapers of operations that have gone wrong and it is obvious that men who are wounded in battle are not treated in the way that they should be.”

      “I agree with you,” the Minister replied, “but I suppose Medical Science does its best.”

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