"Now you have seen a real live Highland laird, Helen," said Mrs Hardy, smiling.
As the men plied their square-handled oars, the young laird called out something to them in Gaelic, which made them look shy and shake their heads.
"I want them to sing to you," said he in English; and after some hesitation, one of them struck up a wild song, which, in spite of the nasal sound he gave it, was full of beauty. So they glided over the still waters of the loch, which was--
"All of the dazzling sheen, Like magic mirror, where slumbering lay The sun and the sky and the cloudlet grey; Which heaved and trembled and gently swung; On every sh.o.r.e they seemed to be hung; For there they were seen on their downward plain A thousand times and a thousand again; In winding lake and placid firth, Little peaceful heavens in the bosom of earth."
"Where did you learn that, Alice?" inquired Hardy gently, as his wife concluded these lines, which she murmured rather than p.r.o.nounced, as she leaned back in the boat looking down into the water, and rippling it with her delicate fingers.
"It is in Hogg"s `Kilmeny,"" she answered. "You don"t know the poem, Arthur, but we will read it some day. Kilmeny was taken away to the spirit-land, and allowed to revisit her native Scotland, to show what a woman can be and what she can do."
"And did she take you with her, Alice?" said her husband.
Mrs Hardy"s cheek glowed at the implied compliment.
Soon they entered the little stream which Mr Stewart had pointed out to them, and truly it was a lovely scene. Although evidently deep, the water was so transparently clear that each pebble and fibre of weed was distinctly seen. Trees arched overhead, hanging at times so far across the stream that it was difficult to manage the oars. Where it widened, little islands, covered with trees, ferns, and wild-flowers, broke it into still narrower channels, forming leafy vistas, occasionally terminating in the blue hills.
"Oh, what is that?" exclaimed Helen, as a large bird rose with heavy flight from a point of land which they were approaching.
"Hech! yon"s ta bhird," commenced one of the rowers, with great animation; then, checked by the consciousness that, however well he might be supplied with information regarding the bird, he could not communicate it in English, he continued in a more subdued tone, "Yon"s ta bhird ye may often see nigh ta wather."
The heron, for such it was, continued to precede them up the stream, resting on a point of land till they came close to it, and then majestically and gloomily rising, to alight again. In about an hour the boat touched a sandy beach, surrounded with magnificent chestnut trees, amongst which the stream still ran, but so shallow and rocky a"s to be unnavigable.
"And, now, are we in Glen Bogie?" asked Helen.
"Ay, ye may say that," said the man who had before spoken.
With some difficulty they followed him by the brink of the stream, as, with their bags on his arm, he led the way. The glen became darker and narrower; gloomy firs, through which the summer wind moaned sadly, replaced the varied wood; a lofty mountain interposed its precipitous rocky side between the stream and the sun, which seemed never to shine on its troubled waters. As if placed as far as possible within the dark ravine, stood the house of Glen Bogie, and immediately behind it rose a grove of firs.
"What a beautiful sketch this would make!" said Helen, as they came suddenly upon a foaming torrent, which, descending the hill-side, emerged from the rocks, heather, and stunted trees, and fell into the stream by which they were guided.
"We must have it, Bayntun," said Hardy. "The stream is swollen by yesterday"s rain, and by to-morrow would appear to less advantage."
"I shall gladly attempt to render it justice," answered Bayntun, "but it must be a work of time."
"If you do not mind remaining, I will take Mrs Hardy and my sister on to the house and return to guide you, for I am sure they must be tired,"
said Hardy.
Both ladies owned to considerable fatigue, notwithstanding their enjoyment. In answer to Bayntun"s inquiries, their guide a.s.sured him that he would have no difficulty in finding his way to the house alone, which he preferred.
Hardy and the two ladies then climbed the rocks from which the waterfall issued, and crossed by an old stone bridge; then again descending to the stream they had left, they followed it till they arrived opposite to the house, when they were greeted by furious barking from a number of dogs which simultaneously rushed from every angle of the building, ranging savagely up and down the waterside.
They were soon hushed by the appearance of a stout middle-aged woman, dressed in a gown of dark blue linsey-woolsey and a snow-white cap, who came out to see what had caused their noise.
"Yon"s Mrs Cameron," said the guide; and in answer to her greeting, which was in Gaelic, and shouted with the full force of her strong vocal organs, he apparently told her who her guests were, and the cause of their coming.
"Any from Glennaclach are welcome to my roof," said she in English, surveying them for a few minutes with her head on one side and her arms folded across her portly person. "Go you round to the bridge, and I will meet you; the lads are all away, but they"ll be at home the night, and meantime I will make you as welcome as a lone wife may."
Still shouting to them across the stream, she stepped out firmly over the loose stones and met them on a high arched stone bridge, bestowing on each a hearty shake of the hand, and on Hardy a hearty thump on the shoulders, accompanied by the compliment--
"You"ve a right honest face, my lad."
She then spoke with respectful interest of the family at Glennaclach.
"There"s no race like the Stewarts, meet them when and where you will,"
added she.
Pa.s.sing by several out-buildings, from which all the dogs rushed forth again, she led the way to the princ.i.p.al entrance of what was once a Highland gentleman"s mansion, gloomy and desolate as it now looked.
"My daughters are all married and away, and none of the lads has brought home a bride to take their place," she said, rather sadly, and then bursting into a loud laugh, she continued--"But I am more than wife to all of them; look here," and opening a large chest, she drew forth pieces of cloth and linen of all descriptions. "Spun it all with these hands, and there"s plenty of work in them yet; and see there," she said, triumphantly pointing to dozens of woollen hose which hung in the wide chimney of the kitchen, to which she now led the way.
Then remembering that her guests must be tired and hungry, she placed upon the table oat-cake, milk, and whisky in abundance, heartily inviting them to partake of them.
The task which Bayntun had undertaken was longer than he had antic.i.p.ated. While engaged upon it, his mind recurred more than once to the hints he had heard of the place he was now in. Donald"s apparently prophetic announcement of the sorrow which had befallen the family they had intended to visit had also taken a strange hold upon his fancy.
Moreover he was tired and hungry, and whatever ascetics may say to the contrary, the mind cannot work so healthfully in conjunction with a feeble body, as with one in such comfortable condition that none of the reasoning faculties are needed to master its sufferings. In fact, he was neither more nor less than nervous. The spot in which he was left was calculated to increase these feelings, so totally lonely and silent, except the sad music of the breeze in the fir-trees, and the stream gurgling and rushing down the rocks. Just below him--for, although far beneath the level of the top of the waterfall, he was some feet above its base--was a smooth gra.s.sy nook, protected from the water by a wall of black rock, in which was a shallow cave overhung by a weeping birch.
Bayntun had noticed this when he first began his sketch, but as his sight grew rather dazzled from watching the constant play of the water, and the sun sank behind the towering mountain, he lost sight of it altogether. As he concluded his work and prepared to follow his friends, his steps were arrested by a harsh chuckle unlike any human voice, but which seemed equally unlike the sound of bird or beast. It proceeded from the cave in the gra.s.sy nook, and so excited Bayntun"s curiosity that he could not refrain from investigating its origin. With some difficulty he lowered himself down the face of the rock by means of the large ferns and bushes, and as he neared the cave the sound became louder and harsher, and expressive of terror. Just as he reached the spot and extended his hand to hold back the branches which overhung it, there was a shriek, and a violent rustle from within; and a form sprang out, pa.s.sed him, and climbing the rock with the agility of a monkey, by clutching the boughs with its long lean arms and hands, fled away, continuing its wild chuckle.
Edmund stood paralysed. It must be something human or supernatural, but how it came there, and whether its glaring eyes had been fixed upon him as he sat there believing himself alone, he could not guess. Resolved not to give way to the strange fears which came crowding into his mind, he climbed up the rock again, and crossing the bridge, followed, as he thought, the path described by the Highlander. Instead, however, of soon finding himself at the farm-house, he lost all view of that or any other habitation; and pausing for a moment to peer amongst the trees for signs of a path, he heard again that unnatural chuckle at no great distance from him.
"Absurd folly!" said he to himself; "it must either be a poor maniac or some mischievous young mountaineer;" so he turned towards the sound, pushing his way through the underwood till he perceived an opening in the wood. There, on the shadowy hill-side, in a magic circle of mossy grey stones and whins, or furze, he witnessed a ghastly dance of pallid forms tossing their arms wildly above their heads, and, in the midst of them, the hobgoblin being which had just escaped from him, its grey garment fluttering, and its limbs jerking frantically as it bounded from one to the other of its spectral partners. Edmund paused in bewilderment.
"This is fearful," he mentally e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "I confess I don"t half like it."
He then endeavoured to retrace his steps towards the stream, which he should have followed as a guide towards the house, and at length discovered it by the sound of its murmuring waters. Hastening on, he had almost reached the old stone bridge on which Mrs Cameron had received her guests, when he perceived, as he thought, a tall Highlander, kilted, plaided, and bonneted, leaning against a tree a little to the right of the path, in an easy att.i.tude, with one foot crossed over the other, one hand on his side, and the other supporting his head. His face was ghastly in its whiteness, and not less so were his hands and knees, and Bayntun"s first impulse was to hasten to his a.s.sistance, believing him to be ill. Greatly was he startled to find, on reaching the tree against which the figure had leaned so immovably, that he was gone. Not a trace or sound of him, and in the spot he had occupied was a twisted thorn, from which some branches had been lopped off. In Bayntun"s excited state of imagination he never suspected the truth, that these twisted branches, with the light shining through them, and the white wood showing where boughs had been removed, had formed the figure he had seen. More than ever impressed with the idea that the place was haunted, or his own brain affected, he sprang upon the bridge, and in a few minutes was heartily welcomed into the kitchen of Glen Bogie, where Mrs Cameron and a stout Highland girl were busily preparing a substantial and savoury supper.
Soon afterwards voices were heard outside, and home came the "lads," as Mrs Cameron called her sons.
"Gude Lochaber stock, the whole of them," said she, giving each a hearty slap on his shoulders as he came in.
And they certainly all did credit to Lochaber, from the eldest, who was a thoughtful-browed Highlander, to Dugald the youngest, a slight active lad of nineteen, with mirth and daring in his eye.
The supper was laid out in what had once been the dining-room of the Campbells of Glen Bogie. When it was concluded, a short consultation between the mother and sons was carried on in Gaelic, the result of which was, that the eldest Cameron invited "Misther Hardy and his friend to take their pipes and whisky in the kitchen along with the rest of us."
"Might we not come too?" whispered Mrs Hardy, who felt rather oppressed with the idea of entertaining their hostess, who was rather deaf, in the dreary parlour.
To the kitchen they all adjourned, where a bright peat-fire glowed on the ground, in the centre of the wide chimney. Some of the dogs had crept in actually behind it, and lay dozing with one ear always on the alert. Wooden settles were placed in the ingle-nook for the young men, and the guests were accommodated with heavy high-backed chairs. Mrs Cameron drew her spinning-wheel towards her, and for a few minutes there were no sounds but its busy hum, and the roaring of the wind down the chimney, and amongst the old trees, and the ceaseless voice of the burn chafing in its rocky bed.
"Was there not some sad story of a quarrel between the Campbells and the Stewarts of this neighbourhood?" asked Helen of the company in general, very much afraid of hearing her own voice, but still more afraid of losing the delight of hearing the story, whatever it might be, on the very spot where the events took place.
"Neighbourhood!" repeated Mrs Cameron, "a neighbourhood should be a place where neighbours meet as friends, and the Campbells and Stewarts never can be friends. Did not I see a bonnie bride of the house of Stewart leave her father"s house with a Campbell for her husband, and was not blood shed even on the threshold? for, as the horses started off with their white c.o.c.kades, one of the lads that rode them fell from the saddle in a fit, and was trampled to death under their feet, and sickness and Borrow waited on the bride till she was at rest in her grave. There"s no peace not friendship between the Campbells and Stewarts, and they should not be called neighbours."
"But, mother, the young lady was asking you about the quarrel," said Dugald, "and not wishing to mend it."
"The young lady is not angered with a foolish old wife," answered his mother, bursting into her loudest, harshest laugh, and laying her hand kindly on Helen"s. "She will pardon me, for I was born a Stewart, and I cannot hear with patience when any talk of the natural enemies of my family. Do you tell how it fell out, Ian, for your English is better than mine," said she, addressing her eldest son.
It should be remembered, that Gaelic being so universally spoken in the Western Highlands, English is only acquired in a degree to be spoken fluently by people of some education, and is p.r.o.nounced by them with a softness and delicacy amounting to an appearance of affectation. Ian Cameron related his story deliberately, and in choice language, giving each word and idea time to take effect before it was succeeded by another.
"You will have heard that when the royal house of Stuart lost the day, the lands of many who had fought for the right were confiscated, and bestowed as rewards upon the Campbells and others who stood up for might rather than right. This estate of Glen Bogie was one of them, and with it the Campbell to whom it was given received favours and authority, which he used as you would expect from a man that was not born to it, and had got it by ill means. They that would rule over a Highlander must find their way to the heart, and must trust him as one honest man trusts another. Campbell never did that. He knew that he was not loved, nor welcome, but still there was not a man--from a Stewart to a McCall--that would have raised a hand against him, except it were in open fight.