She would have given neither of tie men another thought, but that there was no one else with whom to do any of that huckster business called flirting, which to her had just harm enough in it to make it interesting to her. She was one of those who can imagine beauty nor enjoyment in a thing altogether right. She took it for granted that bad and beautiful were often one; that the pleasures of the world owed their delight to a touch, a wash, a tincture of the wicked in them. Such have so many crooked lines in themselves that they fancy nature laid down on lines of crookedness. They think the obliquity the beauty of the campanile, the blurring the charm of the sketch.
I tread on delicate ground--ground which, alas! many girls tread boldly, scattering much feather-bloom from the wings of poor Psyche, gathering for her h.o.a.rds of unlovely memories, and sowing the seed of many a wish that they had done differently. They cannot pa.s.s over such ground and escape having their nature more or less vulgarized.
I do not speak of anything counted wicked; it is only gambling with the precious and lovely things of the deepest human relation! If a girl with such an experience marry a man she loves--with what power of loving may be left such a one--will she not now and then remember something it would be joy to discover she had but dreamed? will she be able always to forget certain cabinets in her brain which "it would not do" to throw open to the husband who thinks her simple as well as innocent? Honesty and truth, G.o.d"s essentials, are perhaps more lacking in ordinary intercourse between young men and women than anywhere else. Greed and selfishness are as busy there as in money-making and ambition. Thousands on both sides are constantly seeking more than their share--more also than they even intend to return value for. Thousands of girls have been made sad for life by the speeches of a man careful all the time to SAY nothing that amounted to a pledge! I do not forget that many a woman who would otherwise have been worth little, has for her sorrow found such consolation that she has become rich before G.o.d; these words hold nevertheless: "It must needs be that offences come, but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh!"
On a morning two days later, Christina called Mercy, rather imperiously, to get ready at once for their usual walk. She obeyed, and they set out. Christina declared she was perishing with cold, and they walked fast. By and by they saw on the road before them the two brothers walking slow; one was reading, the other listening.
When they came nearer they descried in Alister"s hand a ma.n.u.script volume; Ian carried an old-fashioned fowling-piece. It was a hard frost, which was perhaps the cause of Alister"s leisure so early in the day.
Hearing the light steps of the girls behind them, the men turned.
The laird was the first to speak. The plough and the fierce bulls not there to bewilder their judgment, the young women immediately discovered their perception in the matter of breeding to be less infallible than they had imagined it: no well bred woman could for a moment doubt the man before them a gentleman--though his carriage was more courteous and more natural than is often seen in a Mayfair drawing-room, and his English, a little old-fashioned. Ian was at once more like and more unlike other people. His manner was equally courteous, but notably stiffer: he was as much at his ease, but more reserved. To use a figure, he did not step out so far to meet them.
They walked on together.
"You are a little earlier than usual this morning, ladies!" remarked the chief.
"How do you know that, Mr. Macruadh?" rejoined Christina.
"I often see you pa.s.s--and till now always at the same hour."
"And yet we have never met before!"
"The busy and the"--he hesitated a moment--"unbusy seldom meet,"
said the chief.
"Why don"t you say the IDLE?" suggested Christina.
"Because that would be rude."
"Why would it be rude? Most people, suppose, are more idle than busy!"
"IDLE is a word of blame; I had no right to use it."
"I should have taken you for one of those who always speak their minds!"
"I hope I do when it is required, and I have any to speak."
"You prefer judging with closed doors!"
The chief was silent: he did not understand her. Did she want him to say he did not think them idle? or, if they were, that they were quite right?
"I think it hard," resumed Christina, with a tone of injury, almost of suffering, in her voice, "that we should be friendly and open with people, and they all the time thinking of us in a way it would be rude to tell us! It is enough to make one vow never to speak to--to anybody again!"
Alister turned and looked at her. What could she mean?
"You can"t think it hard," he said, "that people should not tell you what they think of you the moment they first see you!"
"They might at least tell us what they mean by calling us idle!"
"I said NOT BUSY."
"Is EVERYBODY to blame that is idle?" persisted Christina.
"Perhaps my brother will answer you that question," said Alister.
"If my brother and I tell you honestly what we thought of you when first we saw you," said Ian, "will you tell us honestly what you thought of us?"
The girls cast an involuntary glance at each other, and when their eyes met, could not keep them from looking conscious. A twitching also at the corners of Mercy"s mouth showed they had been saying more than they would care to be cross-questioned upon.
"Ah, you betray yourselves, ladies!" Ian said. "It is all very well to challenge us, but you are not prepared to lead the way!"
"Girls are never allowed to lead!" said Christina. "The men are down on them the moment they dare!"
"I am not that way inclined," answered Ian. "If man or woman lead TO anything, success will justify the leader. I will propose another thing!"
"What is it?" asked Christina.
"To agree that, when we are about to part, with no probability of meeting again in this world, we shall speak out plainly what we think of each other!"
"But that will be such a time!" said Christina.
"In a world that turns quite round every twenty-four hours, it may be a very short time!"
"We shall be coming every summer, though I hope not to stay through another winter!"
"Changes come when they are least expected!"
"We cannot know," said Alister, "that we shall never meet again!"
"There the probability will be enough."
"But how can we come to a better--I mean a FAIRER opinion of each other, when we meet so seldom?" asked Mercy innocently.
"This is only the second time we have met, and already we are not quite strangers!" said Christina.
"On the other hand," said Alister, "we have been within call for more than two months, and this is our second meeting!"
"Well, who has not called?" said Christina.
The young men were silent. They did not care to discuss the question as to which mother was to blame in the matter.
They were now in the bottom of the valley, had left the road, and were going up the side of the burn, often in single file, Alister leading, and Ian bringing up the rear, for the valley was thickly strewn with lumps of gray rock, of all shapes and sizes. They seemed to have rolled down the hill on the other side of the burn, but there was no sign of their origin: the hill was covered with gra.s.s below, and with heather above. Such was the winding of the way among the stones--for path there was none--that again and again no one of them could see another. The girls felt the strangeness of it, and began to experience, without knowing it, a little of the power of solitary places.
After walking thus for some distance, they found their leader halted.
"Here we have to cross the burn," he said, "and go a long way up the other side."
"You want to be rid of us!" said Christina.
"By no means," replied Alister. "We are delighted to have you with us. But we must not let you get tired before turning to go back."