The voice was clear, and to Mysie very sweet, but it was the words that set her heart awandering among her own moors and heather hills.
Ca" the yowes tae the knowes, Ca" them where the heather grows, Ca" them where the burnie rows, My kind dearie, O!
This was always the song her father sang, if on a Sat.u.r.day night he had been taking a gla.s.s. It was not that he was given to drinking; but sometimes, on the pay night, he would indulge in a gla.s.s with Andrew Marshall or Peter Pegg--just a round each; sufficient to make them happy and forgetful of their hard lot for a time. She had seen her father drunk on very few occasions, as he was a very careful man; but sometimes, maybe at New Year"s time, if things were going more than usually well, he might, in company with his two cronies, indulge in an extra gla.s.s, and then he was seen at his best.
On such occasions Mysie"s mother would remonstrate with him, reminding him with wifely wisdom of his family responsibilities; but under all her admonishings Matthew"s only reply was:
As I gaed doon the water side, There I met my bonnie lad, An" he rowed me sweetly in his plaid, An" ca"d me his dearie, O!
and as he sang, he would fling his arms around Mysie"s mother and turn her round upon the floor, in an awkward dance, to the tune of the song, and finally stopping her flow of words with a hug and a kiss, as he repeated the chorus:
Ca" the yowes tae the knowes, Ca" them where the heather grows, Ca" them where the burnie rows, My kind dearie, O!
So that, when the words of the old song floated up through the noise of the street, Mysie"s heart filled, and her eyes brimmed with tears; for she saw again the old home, and all it meant to her.
"There now," said Mrs. Ramsay, noticing her tears, and stroking her hair with a kindly hand. "Mr. Rundell has told me all about it, and I am your friend and his. I deeply sympathize with you, my dear, for I know how much you must feel your position; but Mr. Rundell is a good-hearted young man, and he"ll be good to you, I know that. Don"t cry, dearie. It is all right."
Thus the words of an old song, sung by a drunken street singer, brought a stronger and deeper stab to the heart of this lonely girl, than to the exile in the back-blocks of Maori-land, or on the edge of the golden West, eating his heart out over a period of years for a glint of the heather hills of home, or the sound of the little brook that had been his lullaby in young days, when all the world was full of dreams and fair romance.
In a sudden burst of impulsiveness, Mysie flung her arms round the neck of the older woman, pouring out her young heart and all its troubles in an incoherent flood of sorrow and vexation.
"There now, dearie," said Mrs. Ramsay, again stroking Mysie"s hair and her soft burning cheek. "Don"t be frightened. You must go to your bed, for you are tired and upset, and will make yourself ill. Come now, like a good la.s.s, and go to your bed."
"Oh, dear, I wonner what my mither will say aboot it," wailed the girl, sobbing. "She"ll hae a sair, sair heart the nicht, an" my faither"ll break his heart. Oh, if only something could tell them I am a" richt, an" safe, it would mak" things easier."
"There now. Don"t worry about that any more, dearie. You"ll only make yourself ill. Try and keep your mind off it, and go away to bed and rest."
"But it"ll kill my mither!" cried Mysie wildly. "Her no" kennin" where I am! If she could only ken that I am a" richt! She"ll be worryin", an"
she"ll be lyin" waken at nicht wonderin" aboot me, an" thinkin" o" every wild thing that has happened to me. Oh, dear, but it"ll break her heart and kill my faither."
It needed all Mrs. Ramsay"s tact and patience to quieten and allay her fears; but gradually the girl was prevailed upon to go to bed, and Mrs.
Ramsay retired to the next room. But all night she heard Mysie tossing and turning, and quietly weeping, and she knew that despair was torturing and tearing her frightened little heart, and trying her beyond endurance.
Mysie lay wondering how the village gossips at home would discuss her disappearance. She knew how Mag Robertson, and Jean Fleming, and Leezie Johnstone and all the other "clash-bags," as they were locally called, would talk, and what stories they would tell.
But her mother would be different--her mother who had always loved her--crude, primitive love it was, but mother love just the same, and she felt that she would never be able again to go back and take up her old life--the old life which seemed so alluring, now that it was left forever behind.
Thus she tossed and worried, and finally in the gray hours of the morning her thoughts turned to Robert, who had loved her so well, and had always been her champion. She saw him looking at her with sad eyes, eyes which held something of accusation in them and were heavy with pain--eyes that told he had trusted her, had loved her, and that he had always hoped she would be his--eyes that told of all they had been to each other from the earliest remembered days, and which plainly said, as they looked at her from the foot of her bed: "Mysie! Oh, Mysie! What way did you do this!"
Unable to bear it any longer, she screamed out in anguish, a scream which brought good Mrs. Ramsay running to her bedside, to find Mysie raving in a high fever, her eyes wildly glowing, and her skin all afire.
The good lady sat with her and tried to soothe her, but Mysie kept calling on Robert and her mother, and raving about matters of which Mrs.
Ramsay knew nothing; and in the morning, when Peter arrived expecting to find his bride ready, he found her very ill, and his good landlady very much frightened about the whole matter.
CHAPTER XVIII
MAG ROBERTSON"S FRENZY
"I want to ken what has gone wrong with you?" said Mag Robertson, speaking to Black Jock, whom she had called into her house one morning as he returned from the pit for his breakfast.
"There"s naething wrang wi" me," he said with cool reserve. "What dae you think is wrang?"
"Ay, it"s a" right, Jock," she said, speaking as one who knew he understood her question better than he pretended. "I can see as far through a brick wall as you can see through a whinstone d.y.k.e."
"Maybe a bit farther, Mag," he said with a forced laugh, eyeing her coolly. "But what are you driving at?"
"You"ll no" ken, I suppose?" she retorted. "Sanny has told me a" aboot it this morning afore he gaed to his work. My! I"d hardly hae looked for this frae you," she went on, her voice suddenly becoming softer and more soothing as if she meant to appeal to his sense of grat.i.tude if any remained within him. "Efter what we"ve been to yin anither, I never expected you"d dae this. I aye thocht that you"d be loyal as we hae been tae you. We hae made oursel"s the outcasts o" the district for you, an"
noo you wad turn on us like this. No, I never thocht it o" you at a"!"
"What are you ravin" at this morning?" he asked, in a quiet voice, as if he meant to force her into being more definite. "I don"t ken I"m sure what you are drivin" at."
"Dae you no?" she broke in quickly, loosing hold of herself as she saw that her method of attack was not going to succeed. "I hae been suspectin" something for a while. You hinna been in owre my door for three weeks an" that"s no your ordinar. But I have seen you gaun in tae Tam Granger"s nearly every nicht in that time. An" I can put twa an" twa together. Dae you think we dinna ken the reason that Sanny has lost his contracts an" the reason why Tam Granger has stepped into them? Oh, ay,"
she cried, her voice rising as she continued. "I can see hoo things are workin"! I ken a" aboot it. Wee Leebie, I suppose, will be afore some o"
us noo. The stuck-up limmer that she is. She gangs by folk as brazened as you like, wi" her head in the air, as if she was somebody. You wad think she never had heard o" Willie Broonclod, the packman, that she sloped when she left doon the country. Nae wonder she has braw claes to glaik aboot in; for they were gey easy paid. The dirty glaiket limmer that she is. I wonder she disna think shame o" hersel"."
"What the h.e.l.l"s a" this to me?" asked Walker abruptly breaking in upon her tirade.
"I suppose it"ll no" mean onything to you," she returned. "But I just wanted to tell you, that you"re no her first, for Willie Broonclod gaed to her lang afore she cam" here, an" she"s left him wi" a guid penny that he"ll never get. But her man"s a contractor noo, makin" big money, an" Jock Walker ca"s in to see her whenever he"s needfu" an" there"s naething sae low as a packman noo for her. The brazen-faced stuck-up baggage that she is. Does she think I dinna ken her? Her, with her hair stuck up in a "bun" an" her fancy blouses an" buckled shoon, an" a"!"
Mag was now very much enraged and she shouted and swore in her anger.
"Ach, gang to h.e.l.l," he said with brutal callousness. "You"re no" hauf a woman like Leebie. She"s a tippy wee la.s.s, an" has a way wi" her. She has some spirit, an" is aye snod and nate," and there was a tantalizing smile about his lips that was plainly meant to irritate Mag.
"I was guid enough a gey lang while, an"--"
"Ay, but you"ve haen a d.a.m.n"d guid innins," he interrupted. "A dam"d guid innins, an" I canna see what the h.e.l.l you hae to yowl at."
"A guid innins, you muckle black-hearted brute!" she cried. "By heavens, an" I"ll see that you get yours afore I hae done wi" you. Dinna think though I hae been saft wi" you a" along, that I"ll ay be like that. Oh, no, I can stand a lot; but you"ll find oot that Mag Robertson hasna selt her a" tae you, without driving a hard bargain afore she lets you alone.
You can gang back to your tippy wee baggage! Gang to h.e.l.l, baith you an"
her, an" joy be wi" you baith! But I"ll put a sprag in your wheel afore you gang far. Mind that! By ---- I will! She"ll nae toss her heid as she gangs past me as if I was dirt. Her, an" her fine dresses that she never payed for wi" money an" her fal-lals. By heaven! But you hae a fine taste!" She finished up exasperated beyond all control by his coolness.
"Ay, it wad seem so," he laughed brutally. "When I look at you, I begin to wonder what the h.e.l.l I was lookin" at. You"re like a d.a.m.nationed big lump o" creesh," and he laughed in her face, knowing this would rouse her more than ever. Then as she choked and spluttered in her anger he said: "But what the h.e.l.l odds is"t to you, you baggage?" and his eyes and voice were cold and brutal beyond expression. "Leebie Granger is young," he went on insultingly, in a collected even voice which he strove to make jaunty in tone. "She"s as fresh an" young. An" you"re auld, an" fat an" as ugly as h.e.l.l, an" if I dae gang to Leebie you hae d.a.m.n all to dae wi" it. As I said, you"ve had your innin"s, an" been gey well paid for it, an" I dinna gie a d.a.m.n for you."
"Dae you no"?" she cried now livid with anger and losing all control over her words and actions, her eyes flashing with maddened rage and the froth working from her lips. "I"ll let you ken or no". I"ll tear the pented face off your new doll; and I"ll sort you too, you dirty black brute that you are."
"Gang to h.e.l.l!" he shouted, starting out of the door so suddenly that he almost ran into the next door neighbor who hearing the noise had crept noiselessly on tiptoe to the door the better to hear all that was going on.
"What the h.e.l.l"s wrang wi" you?" he demanded turning in rage upon the eavesdropper. "Have you naething else to dae than that? Gang in an" get your dirty midden o" a hoose cleaned an" I"ll see that you don"t stay lang in Lowwood to spy on ony mair folk!" and cowering in shame the poor woman backed into the door and shut it, making up her mind that her man would be sacked that day, and wondering where they would flit to, so as to find work and a house.
Walker strode up the row with Mag Robertson shouting behind him and the neighbors all coming to the doors as they pa.s.sed, and craning their necks, while keeping their bodies safe hidden within the doorways of their homes.
"We"re surely gettin" an entertainment the day," observed one fat old woman to another woman two doors away, as they both looked after Mag as she followed Walker up the row, shouting her worst names at him, and vowing what she"d do with Leebie Granger, when she got hands on her.
"Ay," replied the other woman stealing along the wall to the doorway of the older woman, and slipping inside as if she were afraid of being detected. "It"s a h.e.l.l o" a business when blackguards cast oot."
"Wheest, Annie, dinna swear," remonstrated the old woman. "I dinna like to hear folk swearin" at a". I wonner the Lord disna open the grun" to swallow the half o" the folk noo-a-days; for I never heard sic swearin"
a" my life."