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 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
 OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT 
 FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE 
 
The billow and the rock; a tale.With twen 
 
 3 1924 013 522 226 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013522226 
 
THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK 
 
SHE PUT HER HEAD AND SHOULDERS THROUGH THE LOW ARCH. 
 Front. 
 
THE 
 
 BILLOW AND THE ROCK 
 
 % Cak 
 
 HARRIET MARTINEAU 
 
 WITH 
 TWENTT-POOB ILLUSTRATIONS BY B. J. WHEBLHR 
 
 LONDON 
 
 GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS 
 
 broadway, ludgate hill 
 
 Glasgow and New York 
 
 1889 
 
 TT 
 
NOTE. 
 
 // is scarcely necessary to explain that in this tale 
 free use has been made of the history of Lady 
 
 Grange, whose name and adventures are probably 
 familiar to many of my readers. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Lord and Lady Carse - - - i 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 The Turbulent - ■ 13 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The Wrong Journey - - 23 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Newspapers 34 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Cross Roads and Short Seas 45 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 The Steadfast - 60 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The Roving of the Restless - 73 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 The Waiting of the Wise - - 86 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The Cove - - - - 103 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Which Refuge? - - - 112 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Folding the Flock - 126 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The Steward on his Rounds 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 True Solitude 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Openings 
 
 145 
 
 157 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Helsa's News - - - 173 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Annie's News - - 186 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Timely Evasion - , . ip5 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 The Lamp Burns --:..- 
 
 205 
 
 217 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 Free at Last! .... . . 236 
 
THE 
 
 BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LORD AND LADY CARSE. 
 
 Scotland was a strange and uncomfortable country to live 
 in a hundred years ago. Strange beyond measure its state 
 of society appears to us when we consider, not only that it 
 was called a Christian country, but that the people had 
 shown that they rearlly did care very much for their religion, 
 and were bent upon worshipping God according to their 
 conscience and true belief. Whilst earnest in their religion, 
 their state of society was yet very wicked : a thing which 
 usually happens when a whole people are passing from one 
 way of living and being governed to another. Scotland had 
 not long been united with England. While the wisest of 
 the nation saw that the only hope for the country was in 
 being governed by the same king and parliament as the 
 English, many of the most powerful men wished not to be 
 governed at all, but to be altogether despotic over their 
 dependents and neighbours, and to have their own way in 
 
2 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 everything. These lords and gentlemen did such violent 
 things as are never heard of now in civilised countries j and 
 when their inferiors had any strong desire or passion, they 
 followed the example of the great men, so that travelling 
 was dangerous ; citizens did not feel themselves safe in their 
 own houses if they had reason to beUeve they had enemies ; 
 few had any trust in the protection of the law ; and stories 
 of fighting and murder were familiar to children living in 
 the heart of cities. 
 
 Children, however, had less liberty tnen than in our time. 
 The more self-will there was in grown people, the more 
 strictly were the children kept in order, not only because 
 the uppermost idea of everyone in authority was that he 
 would be obeyed, but because it would not do to let little 
 people see the mischief that was going on abroad. So, 
 while boys had their hair powdered, and wore long coats 
 and waistcoats, and little knee-breeches, and girls were laced 
 tight in stays all stiff with whalebone, they were trained to 
 manners more formal than are ever seen now. 
 
 One autumn afternoon a party was expected at the house 
 of Lord Carse, in Edinburgh ; a handsome house in a very 
 odd situation, according to our modern notions. It was at 
 the bottom of a narrow lane of houses — that sort of lane 
 called a Wynd in Scotch cities. It had a court-yard in 
 front. It was necessary to have a court-yard to a good 
 house in a street too narrow for carriages. Visitors must 
 come in sedan chairSf and there must be some place, aside 
 
LORD AND LADY CAUSE. 
 
 from the street, where the chairs and chairmen could wait 
 for the guests. This old fashioned house had sitting-roorhs 
 on the ground floor, and on the sills of the windows were 
 flower-pots, in which, on this occasion, some asters and 
 other autumn flowers were growing. 
 
 Within the largest sitting-room was collected a formal 
 group, awaiting the arrival of visitors. Lord Carse's sister. 
 Lady Rachel Ballino, was there, surrounded by her nephews 
 aad nieces. As they came in, one after another, dressed 
 for company, and made their bow or curtsey at the door, 
 their aunt gave them permission to sit down till the arrival 
 of the first guest, after which time it would be a matter of 
 course that they should stand. Miss Janet and her brothers 
 sat down on their low stools, at some distance from each 
 other J but little Miss Flora had no notion of submitting to 
 their restraints at her early age, and she scrambled up the 
 window-seat to look abroad as far as she could, which was 
 through the high iron gates to the tall houses on the other 
 side the Wynd. 
 
 Lady Rachel saw the boys and Janet looking at each 
 other with smiles, and this turned her attention to the child 
 in the window, who was nodding her litde curly head very 
 energetically to somebody outside. 
 
 "Come down, Flora,'' said her aunt. 
 
 But Flora was too busy, nodding, to hear that she was 
 spoken to. 
 
 " Flora, come down. Why are you nodding in that way ? " 
 
4 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 " Lady nods," said Flora. 
 
 Lady Rachel rose deliberately from ner seat, and ap- 
 proached the window, turning pale as she went. After a 
 single glance in the court yard, she sank on a chair, and 
 desired her nephew Orme to ring the bell twice. Orme, 
 who saw that something was the matter, rang so vigorously 
 as to bring the butler in immediately. 
 
 "John, you see?" said the pale lips of Lady Rachel, 
 while she pointed, with a trembling finger, to the court-yard. 
 
 " Yes, my lady ; the doors are fastened." 
 
 "And Lord Carse not home yet?" 
 
 " No, my lady. I think perhaps he is somewhere near, 
 and cannot get home." 
 
 John looked irresolutely towards the child in the window. 
 Once more Flora was desired to come down, and once more 
 she only replied, 
 
 " Lady nods at me." 
 
 Janet was going towards the window to enforce her aunt's 
 orders, but she was desired to keep her seat, and John 
 quickly took up Miss Flora in his arms and set her down at 
 her aunt's knee. The child cried and struggled, said she 
 would see the lady, and must infallibly have been dismissed 
 to the nursery, but her eye was caught, and her mind pre- 
 sently engaged by Lady Rachel's painted fan, on which 
 there was a burning mountain, and a blue sea, and a shep- 
 herdess and her lamb — all very gay. Flora was allowed to 
 have the fan in her own hands — a very rare favour. But 
 
LORD AND LADY CAUSE. 
 
 presently she left off telling her aunt what she saw upon i', 
 dropped it, and clapped her hands, saying, as she looked at 
 the window, " Lady nods at me." 
 
 "JOHN, YOU SEE?" SAID THE PALE LIPS OF LADY EACHEL, WHILE 
 SHE POINTED WITH A TREMBLING FINGER. 
 
 " It is mamma ! " cried the elder ones, starting to their 
 feet, as the lady thrust her face through the flowers, and 
 close to the window-pane. 
 
6 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 "Go to the nursery, children," said Lady Rachel, making 
 an effort to rise. " I will send for you presently." The 
 elder ones appeared glad to escape, and they carried with 
 them the struggling Flora. 
 
 Lady Rachel threw up the sash, crossed her arms, and 
 said, in the most formal manner, 
 
 " What do you want, Lady Carse ? " 
 
 " I want my children." 
 
 "You cannot have them, as you well know. It is too 
 late. I pity you ; but it is too late." 
 
 " I will see my children. I will come home and live. 
 I will make that tyrant repent setting up anyone in my 
 place at home. I have it in my power to ruin him. I " 
 
 "Abstain from threats," said Lady Rachel, shutting the 
 window, and fastening the sash. 
 
 Lady Carse doubled her fist, as if about to dash in a 
 pane; but the iron gates behind her creaked on their 
 hinges, and she turned her head. A chair was entering, 
 on each side of which walked a footman, whose livery Lady 
 Carse well knew. Her handsome face, red before, was now 
 more flushed. She put her mouth close to the window, and 
 said, " If it had been anybody but Lovat you would not 
 have been rid of me this evening. I would have stood 
 among the chairmen till midnight for the chance of getting 
 in. Be sure I shall to-morrow, or some day. But now 
 I am off." She darted past the chair, her face turned away, 
 just as Lord Lovat was issuing from it. 
 
LORD AND LADY CARSE. 
 
 7 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! " cried he, in a loud and mocking tone. 
 •' Ho, there ! my Lady Carse ! A word with you ! " But 
 she ran up the Wynd as fast as she could go. 
 
 "You should not look so white upon it," Lord Lovat 
 
 A CHAIK WAS ENTERING. 
 
 observed to Lady Rachel, as soon as the door was shut. 
 "Why do you let her see her power over you?" 
 
 " God knows ! " rephed Lady Rachel. " But it is not her 
 threats alone that make us nervous. It is the being 
 incessantly subject " 
 
 She cleared her throat ; but she could not go on. 
 
8 THE BILLO W AND THE ROCK. 
 
 Lord Lovat swore that he would not submit to be 
 tormented by a virago in this way. If Lady Carse were 
 his wfe 
 
 " Well ! what would you do ? " asked Lady Rachel. 
 
 "I would get rid of her. I tell your brother so. I 
 would get rid of her in one way, if she threatened to get rid 
 of me in another. She may have learned from her father 
 how to put her enemies out of the way." 
 
 Lady Rachel grew paler than ever. Lord Lovat went on. 
 
 " Her father carried pistols in the streets of Edinburgh • 
 and so may she. Her father was hanged for it ; and it is 
 my belief that she would have no objection to that end if 
 she could have her revenge first. Ay ! you wonder why I 
 say such things to you, frightened as you are already. I do 
 it that you may not infuse any weakness into your brother's 
 purposes, if he should think fit to rid the town of her one 
 of these days. Come, come ! I did not say rid the world 
 of her." 
 
 " Merciful Heaven ! no ! " 
 
 "There are places, you know, where troublesome people 
 have no means of doing mischief. I could point out such a 
 place presently, if I were asked — a place where she might 
 be as safe as under lock and key, without the trouble and 
 risk of confining her, and having to consider the law." 
 
 " You do not mean a prison, then ? " 
 
 " No. She has not yet done anything to make it easy to 
 put her in prison for life ; and anything short of that would 
 
LORD AND LADY CARSE. 
 
 be more risk than comfort. If Carse gives me authority, I 
 will dispose of her where she can be free to rove hke 
 tlie wild goats. If she should take a fancy to jump down 
 a, precipice, or drown herself, that is her own affair, you 
 know." 
 
 .The door opened for the entrance of company. Lord 
 Lovat whispered once more, 
 
 " Only this. If Carse thinks of giving the case into my 
 hands, don't you oppose it. I will not touch her life, 1 
 swear to you." 
 
 Lady Rachel knew, like the rest of the world, that Lord 
 Lovat's swearing went for no more than any of his other 
 engagements. Though she would have given all she had 
 in the world to be freed from the terror of Lady Carse, and 
 to hope that the children might forget their unhappy 
 mother, she shrank from the idea of putting any person 
 into the hands of the hard, and mocking, and plotting Lord 
 Lovat. As for the legality of doing anything at all to Lady 
 Carse while she did not herself break the law, that was a 
 consideration which no more occurred to Lady Rachel than 
 to the violent Lord Lovat himself. 
 
 Lady Rachel was exerting herself to entertain her guests, 
 
 and had sent for the children, when, to her inexplicable 
 
 relief, the butler brought her the news that Lord Carse and 
 
 his son Willie were home, and would appear with all speed. 
 
 They had been detained two hours in a tavern, John said. 
 
 " In a tavern ? " 
 
 2 
 
10 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCIC. 
 
 "Yes, my lady. Could not get out. Did not wish to 
 collect more people, to cause a mob. It is all right now, 
 my lady." 
 
 When Lord Carse entered, he made formal apologies to 
 his guests first, and his sister afterwards, for his late appear- 
 ance. He had been delayed by an affair of importance on 
 his way home. His rigid countenance was somewhat paler 
 than usual, and his manner more dictatorial. His hard and 
 unwavering voice was heard all the evening, prosing and 
 explaining. The only tokens of feeling were when he spoke 
 to his eldest son Willie, who was spiritless, and, as the close 
 observer saw, tearful ; and when he took little Flora in his 
 arms, and stroked her shining hair, and asked her if she had 
 been walking witTi the nurse. 
 
 Flora did not answer. She was anxiously watching Lady 
 Rachel's countenance. Her papa bade her look at him 
 and answer his question. She did so, after glancing at her 
 aunt, and saying eagerly, in a loud whisper, 
 
 "I am not going to say anything about the lady that 
 came to the window, and nodded at me.'' 
 
 It did not mend the matter that her sister and brothers 
 all said at once, in a loud whisper, " Hush ! Flora." 
 
 Her father sat her down hastily. Lord Carse's domestic 
 troubles were pretty well known throughout Edinburgh ; 
 and the company settled it in their own minds that there 
 had been a scene this afternoon. 
 
 When they were gone, Lord Carse gave his sister his 
 
LORD AND LADY CARSE. ii 
 
 advice not to instruct any very young child in any part to 
 be acted. He assured her that very young children have 
 not the discretion of grown people, and gave it as his 
 opinion that when the simplicity, which is extremely agree- 
 able by the domestic fireside, becomes troublesome or 
 dangerous in society, the child is better disposed of in the 
 nursery. 
 
 Lady Rachel meekly submitted ; only observing what a 
 singular and painful case was that of these children, who 
 had to be so early trained to avoid the very mention of their 
 mother. She beHeved her brother to be the most religious 
 man she had ever known ; yet she now heard him mutter 
 oaths so terrible that they made her blood run cold. 
 
 " Brother ! my dear brother," she expostulated. 
 
 " I'll tell you what she has done," he said, from behind 
 his set teeth. "She has taken a lodging in thjs very Wynd, 
 directly opposite my gates. Not a child, not a servant, not 
 a dog or cat can leave my house without coming under her 
 eye. She will be speaking to the children out of her 
 window." 
 
 " She will be nodding at Flora from the court-yard as 
 often as you are out," cried Lady Rachel. " And if she 
 should shoot you from her window, brother." 
 
 " She hints that she Will; and there are many things more 
 unlikely, considering (as she herself says) whose daughter she 
 is.— But, no," he continued, seeing the dreadful alarm into 
 which his sister was thrown. " This will not be her method 
 
 2 — 2 
 
12 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 of revenge. There is another that pleases her better, 
 because she suspects that I dread it more. — You know what 
 I mean ? " 
 
 "PoHtical secrets ? " Lady Rachel whispered— not in 
 Flora's kind of whisper, but quite into her brother's ear. 
 
 He nodded assent, and then he gravely informed her that 
 his acquaintance, Duncan Forbes, had sent a particular 
 request to see him in the morning. He should go, he said. 
 It would not do to refuse waiting on the President of the 
 Court of Session, as he was known to be in Edinburgh. But 
 he wished he was a hundred miles off, if he was to hear a 
 Hanoverian lecture from a man so good natured, and so 
 dignified by his office, that he must always have his own 
 v/ay. 
 
 Lady Rachel went to bed very miserable this night. She 
 wished that Lady Carse and King George, and all the 
 House of Brunswick had never existed; or that Prince 
 Charlie, or some of the exiled royal family, would come over 
 at once and take possession of the kingdom, that her 
 brother and his friends might no longer be compelled to live 
 in a state of suspicion and dread — every day planning to 
 bring in a new king, and every day obliged to appear 
 satisfied with the one they had ; their secret, or some part 
 of it, being all the while at the mercy of a violent woman 
 who hated them all. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE TaRBULENT. 
 
 When Lord Carse issued from his own house the next 
 
 morning to visit the President, he had his daughter Janet by 
 
 his side, and John behind him. He took Janet in the hope 
 
 that her presence, while it would be no impediment to any 
 
 properly legal business, would secure him from any political 
 
 conversation being introduced ; and there was no need of 
 
 any apology for her visit, as the President usually asked why 
 
 he had not the pleasure of seeing her, if her father went 
 
 alone. Duncan Forbes's good nature to all young people 
 
 was known to everybody ; but he declared himself an 
 
 admirer of Janet above all others ; and Janet never felt 
 
 herself of so much consequence as in the President's house. 
 
 John went as an escort to his young lady on her return. 
 
 Janet felt her father's arm twitch as they issued from their 
 
 gates ; and, looking up to see why, she saw that his face was 
 
 twitching too. She did not know how near her mother was, 
 
 nor that her father and John had their ears on the stretch 
 
 for a hail from the voice they dreaded above all others in the 
 
 world. But nothing was seen or heard of Lady Carse ; and 
 
 when they turned out of the Wynd Lord Carse resumed his 
 
 usual air and step of formal importance ; and Janet held up 
 
 her head, and tried to take steps as long as his. 
 
 13 
 
14 
 
 THE BILLOW AND TEE ROCK. 
 
 All was right about her going to the President's. He 
 kissed her forehead, and praised her father for bringing her, 
 and picked out for her the prettiest flowers from a bouquet 
 
 JANET HELD UP HER HEAD AND TRIED TO TAKE STEPS 
 AS LONG AS HIS. 
 
 before he sat down to business ; and then he rose again, and 
 provided her with a portfoHo of prints to amuse herself 
 with; and even then he did not forget her, but glanced 
 aside several times, to explain the subject of some print, or 
 
THE TURBULENT. 15 
 
 to draw her attention to some beauty in the one she was 
 looking at. 
 
 " My dear lord," said he, " I liave taken a liberty with 
 your time ; but I want your opinion on a scheme I have 
 drawn out at length for Government, for preventing and 
 punishing the use of tea among the common people." 
 
 " Very good, very good ! " observed Lord Carse, greatly 
 relieved about the reasons for his being sent for. " It is 
 high time, if our agriculture is to be preserved, that the use 
 of malt should be promoted to the utmost by those in 
 power." 
 
 "I am sure of it," said the President. "Things have got 
 to such a pass, that in towns the meanest people have tea 
 at the morning's meal, to the discontinuance of the ale 
 which ought to be their diet ; and poor women drink this 
 drug also in the afternoons, to the exclusion of the twopenny." 
 
 " It is very bad ; very unpatriotic ; very immoral," 
 declared Lord Carse. "Such people must be dealt with 
 outright." 
 
 The President put on his spectacles, and opened his 
 papers to explain his plan— that plan, which it now appears 
 almost incredible should have come from a man so wise, so 
 liberal, so kind-hearted as Duncan Forbes. He showed how 
 he would draw the line between those who ought and those 
 who ought not to be permitted to drink tea ; how each was 
 to be described, and how, when anyone was suspected of 
 taking tea, when he ought to be drinking beer, he was to 
 
1 6 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 tell on oath what his income was, that it might be judged 
 whether he could pay the extremely high duty on tea which 
 the plan would impose. Houses might be visited, and 
 cupboards and cellars searched, at all hours, in cases of 
 suspicion. 
 
 " These provisions are pretty severe,'' the President him- 
 self observed. "But " 
 
 " But not more than is necessary," declared Lord Carse. 
 " I should say they are too mild. If our agriculture is not 
 supported, if the malt tax falls off, what is to become of 
 us?" 
 
 And he sighed deeply. 
 
 " If we find this scheme work well, as far as it goes,'' 
 observed the President, cheerfully, "we can easily render it 
 as much more stringent as occasion may require. And 
 now, what can Miss Janet tell us on this subject ? Can she 
 give information of any tea being drunk in the nursery at 
 home ? " 
 
 " Oh ! to be sure," said Janet. " Nurse often lets me 
 have some with her; and Katie fills Flora's doll's teapot out 
 of her own, almost every afternoon." 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " cried Lord Carse, starting from his seat 
 in consternation. " My servants drink tea in my house ! 
 Off they shall go — every one of them who does it." 
 
 "Oh! papa. No; pray papa 1 " implored Janet. "They 
 will say I sent them away. Oh ! I wish nobody had asked 
 me anything about it." 
 
THE TURBULENT. 17 
 
 " It was my doing," said the President. " My dear lord, 
 I make it my request that your servants may be forgiven." 
 
 Lord Carse bowed his acquiescence; but he shook his 
 head, and looked very gloomy about such a thing happening 
 in his house. The President agreed with him that it must 
 not happen again, on pain of instant dismissal. 
 
 The President "next invited Janet to the drawing-room to 
 see a grey parrot, brought hither since her last visit — a very 
 entertaining companion in the evenings, the President 
 declared. He told Lord Carse he would be back in three 
 minutes, and so he was — with a lady on his arm, and that 
 lady was — Lady Carse. 
 
 She was not flushed now, nor angry, nor forward. She 
 was quiet and ladylike, while in the house of one of the 
 most gentlemanly men of his time. If her husband had 
 looked at her, he would have seen her so much like the 
 woman he wooed and once dearly loved, that he might have 
 somewhat changed his feelings towards her. But he went 
 abruptly to the window when he discovered who she was, 
 and nothing could make him turn his head. Perhaps he 
 was aware how pale he was, and desired that she should not 
 see it. 
 
 The President placed the lady in a chair, and then 
 approached Lord Carse, and laid his hand on his shoulder, 
 saying, 
 
 "You will forgive me when you know my reasons. I 
 want you to join me in prevailing on this good lady to 
 
THE BILLOW AND THE EOCK. 
 
 give up a design which I think imprudent — I will say, 
 wrong." 
 
 It was surprising, but Lady Carse for once bore quietly 
 with somebody thinking her wrong. Whatever she might 
 feel, she said nothing. The President went on. 
 
 " Lady Carse " 
 
 He felt, as his hand lay on his friend's shoulder, that he 
 winced, as if the very name stung him. 
 
 " Lady Carse," continued the President, " cannot be 
 deterred by any account that can be given her of the perils 
 and hardships of a journey to London. She declares her 
 intention of going." 
 
 " I am no baby ; I am no coward," declared the lady. 
 " The coach would not have been set up, and it would not 
 continue to go once a fortnight if the journey were not 
 practicable ; and where others go I can go." 
 
 "Of the dangers of the road, I tell this good lady," 
 resumed the President, " she can judge as well as you or I, 
 my lord. But of the perils of the rest of her errand she 
 must, I think, admit that we may be better judges." 
 
 " How can you let your Hanoverian prejudices seduce 
 you into countenancing such a devil as that woman, and 
 believing a word that she says ? " muttered Lord Carse, in a 
 hoarse voice. 
 
 "Why, my good friend," replied the President, "it does 
 so vex my very heart every day to see how the ladies, whom 
 I would fain honour for their discretion as much as I 
 
THE TURBULENT. 19 
 
 admire them for their other virtues, are wild on behalf of 
 the Pretender, or eager for a desperate and treasonable war, 
 that you must not wonder if I take pleasure in meeting with 
 one who is loyal to her rightful sovereign. Loyal, I must 
 suppose, at home, and in a quiet way ; for she knows that I 
 do not approve of her journey to London to see the 
 minister. 
 
 " The minister ! " faltered out Lord Carse. 
 
 He heard, or fancied he heard his wife laughing behind 
 him. 
 
 "Come, now, my friends," said the President, with a 
 good-humoured seriousness, " let me tell you that the 
 position of either of you is no joke. It is too serious for 
 any lightness and for any passion. I do not want to hear a 
 word about your grievances. I see quite enough. I see a 
 lady driven from home, deprived of her children, and 
 tormenting herself with thoughts of revenge because she has 
 no other object. I see a gentleman who has been cruelly 
 put to shame in his own house and in the public street, 
 worn with anxiety about his innocent daughters, and with 
 natural fears — inevitable fears, of the mischief that may be 
 done to his character and fortunes by an ill use of the 
 confidence he once gave to the wife of his bosom." 
 
 There was a suppressed groan from Lord Carse, and 
 something like a titter from the lady. The President went 
 on even more gravely. 
 
 " I know how easy it is for people to make each otiier 
 
20 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 wretched, and especially for you two to ruin each other. If 
 I could but persuade you to sit down with me to a quiet 
 discussion of a plan for living together or apart, abstaining 
 from mutual injury " 
 
 Lord Carse dissented audibly from their living together, 
 and the lady from living apart. 
 
 " Why," remonstrated the President, " things cannot be 
 worse than they are now. You make life a hell " 
 
 "I am sure it is to me ! " sighed Lord Carse. 
 
 " It is not yet so to me," said the lady. " I " 
 
 "It is not!" thundered her husband, turning suddenly 
 round upon her. " Then I will take care it shall be." 
 
 " For God's sake, hush ! " exclaimed the President, 
 shocked to the soul. 
 
 " Do your worst," said the lady, rising. " We will try 
 which has the most power. You know what ruin is." 
 
 " Stop a moment," said the President. " I don't exactly 
 like to have this quiet house of mine made a hell of. I 
 cannot have you part on these terms.'' 
 
 But the lady had curtseyed, and was gone. 
 
 For a minute or two nothing was said. Then a sort of 
 scream was heard from upstairs. 
 
 " My Janet ! " cried Lord Carse. 
 
 "I will go and see," said the President. "Janet is 
 my especial pet, you know." 
 
 He immediately returned, smiling, and said, 
 
 " There is nothing amiss with Janet. Come and see.'' 
 
THE TURBULENT. 
 
 21 
 
 Janet was on her mother's lap, her arms thrown round 
 her neck, while the mother's tears streamed over them 
 
 "CAN YOU RESIST THIS?" THE PRESIDENT ASKED OF LORD CARSE. 
 
 both. " Can you resist this ? " the President asked of Lord 
 Carse. "Can you i^eep them apart after this?" 
 
 "I can," he replied. "I will not permit her the devilish 
 pleasure she wants— of making my own children my 
 enemies." 
 
22 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 He was going to take Janet by force : but the President 
 interfered, and said authoritatively to Lady Carse that she 
 had better go : her time was not yet come. She must wait ; 
 and his advice was to wait patiently and harmlessly. 
 
 It could not have been believed how instantaneously a 
 woman in such emotion could recover herself. 
 
 She put Janet off her knee. In an instant there were 
 no more traces of tears, and her face was composed, and 
 her manner hard. 
 
 "Good-bye, my dear," she said to the weeping Janet. 
 " Don't cry so, my dear. Keep your tears ; for you will 
 have something more to cry for soon. I am going home 
 to pack my trunk for London. Have my friends any 
 commands for London ? " 
 
 And she looked round steadily upon the three faces. 
 
 The President was extremely grave when their eyes 
 met ; but even his eye sank under hers. He offered 
 his arm to conduct her downstairs, and took leave of her 
 at the gate -with a silent bow. 
 
 He met Lord Carse and Janet coming downstairs, and 
 begged them to stay awhile, dreading, perhaps, a street 
 encounter. But Lord Carse was bent on being gone 
 immediately — and had not another moment to spare. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE WRONG JOURNEY. 
 
 Lady Carse and her maid Bessie — an elderly woman who 
 had served her from her youth up, bearing with her temper 
 for the sake of that family attachment which exists so 
 strongly in Scotland, — were busy packing trunks this 
 afternoon, when they were told that a gentleman must speak 
 with Lady Carse below stairs. 
 
 " There will be no peace till we are off," observed the 
 lady to her maid. In answer to which Bessie only sighed 
 deeply. 
 
 "I want you to attend me downstairs," observed the 
 lady. "But this provoking nonsense of yours, this 
 crying about going a journey, has made you not fit to 
 be seen. If any friend of my lord's saw your red eyes, he 
 would go and say that my own maid was on my lord's side. 
 I must go down alone." 
 
 " Pray, madam, let me attend you. The gentleman will 
 not think of looking at me : and I will stand with my back 
 to the light, and the room is dark." 
 
 " No ; your very voice is full of tears. Stay where you 
 are." 
 
 Lady Carse sailed into the room very grandly, not 
 knowing whom she was to see. Nor was she any wiser 
 
 23 
 
24 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 when she did see him. He was muffled up, and wore a 
 shawl tied over his mouth, and kept his hat on; so that 
 little space was left between hat, periwig, and comforter. 
 He apologised for wearing his hat, and for keeping the lady 
 standing — his business was short : — in the first place to 
 show her Lord Carse's ring, which she would immediately 
 recognise. 
 
 She glanced at the ring, and knew it at once. 
 
 " On the warrant of this ring," continued the gentleman, 
 " I come from your husband to require from you what you 
 cannot refuse, — either as a wife, or consistent with your 
 safety. You hold a document, — a letter from your husband, 
 written to you in conjugal confidence five years ago, from 
 London, — a letter " 
 
 " You need not describe it further," said the lady. " It is 
 my chief treasure, and not hkely to escape my recollection. 
 It is a letter from Lord Carse, containing treasonable 
 expressions relating to the royal family." 
 
 " About the treason ^^'e might differ, madam ; but my 
 business is, not to argue that, but to require of you to 
 deliver up that paper to me, on this warrant," again 
 producing the ring. 
 
 The lady laughed, and asked whether the gentleman was 
 a fool or took her to be one, that he asked her to give up 
 what she had just told him was the greatest treasure she 
 had in the world, — her sure means of revenge upon her 
 enemies. 
 
THE WRONG JOURNEY. 23 
 
 " You will not ? " asked the gentleman. 
 " I will not." 
 
 LADY CARSE CAUGHT AT THE TABLE, AND LEANED ON IT TO 
 SUPPORT HERSELF. 
 
 " Then hear what you have to expect, madam. Hear it, 
 and then take time to consider once more." 
 
 "I have no time to spare," she replied. "I start for 
 
26 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK, 
 
 London early in the morning ; and my preparations are not 
 complete." 
 
 "You must hear me, however," said the gentleman. "If 
 you do not yield your husband will immediately and 
 irrevocably put you to open shame." 
 
 " He cannot," she replied. " I have no shame. I have 
 tlie advantage of him there." 
 
 "You have, however, personal liberty at present. You 
 have that to lose, — and life, madam. You have that to 
 lose." 
 
 Lady Carse caught at the table, and leaned on it to 
 support herself. It was not from fear about her liberty or 
 life ; but because there was a cruel tone in the utterance of 
 the last words, which told her that it was Lord Lovat who 
 was threatening her; and she 7vas afraid of him. 
 
 "I have shaken you now," said he. "Come: give me 
 the letter." 
 
 " It is not fear that shakes me," she replied. " It is 
 disgust. The disgust that some feel at reptiles I feel at you, 
 my Lord Lovat." 
 
 She quickly turned and left the room. When he followed 
 she had her foot on the stairs. He said aloud, 
 
 "You will repent, madam. You will repent." 
 
 " That is my own affair." 
 
 "True, madam, most true. I charge you to remember 
 that you have yourself said that it is your own affair if 
 you find you have cause to repent." 
 
THE WRONG JOURNEY. 27 
 
 Lady Carse stood on the stairs till her visitor had closed 
 the house door behind him, struggled up to her chamber, 
 and fainted on the threshold. 
 
 "This journey will never do, madam," said Bessie, as 
 her mistress revived. 
 
 " It is the very thing for me," protested the lady. " In 
 twelve hours more we shall have left this town and my 
 enemies behind us; and then I shall be happy." 
 
 Bessie sighed. Her mistress often talked of being 
 happy; but nobody had ever yet seen her so. 
 
 " This fainting is nothing," said Lady Carse, rising 
 from the bed. "It is only that my soul sickens when 
 Lord Lovat comes near; and the visitor below was Lord 
 Lovat." 
 
 "Mercy on us!" exclaimed Bessie. "What next?" 
 
 "Why, that we must get this lock turned," said her 
 lady, kneeling on the lid of a trunk. "Now, try again. 
 There it is ! Give me the key. Get me a cup of tea, 
 and then to bed with you ! I have a letter to write. 
 Call me at four, to a minute. Have you ordered two 
 chairs, to save all risk?" 
 
 "Yes, madam; and the landlord will see your things 
 to the coach office to-night." 
 
 Lady Carse had sealed her letter, and was winding up 
 her watch with her eyes fixed on the decaying fire, when 
 she was startled by a knock at the house door. Every- 
 body else was in bed. In a vague fear she hastened to 
 
28 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 her chamber, and held the door in her hand and listened 
 while the landlord went down. There were two voices 
 besides his ; and there was a noise as of something heavy 
 brought into the hall. When this was done, and the 
 bolts and bars were again fastened, she went to the stair 
 head and saw the landlord coming up with a letter in his 
 hand. The letter was for her. It was heavy. Her trunks 
 had come back from the coach office. The London coach 
 was gone. 
 
 Tiie letter contained the money paid for the fare of 
 Lady Carse and her maid to London, and explained that 
 a person of importance having occasion to go to London 
 with attendants, and it being necessary to use haste, the 
 coach was compelled to start si.x hours earlier than usual ; 
 and Lady Carse would have the first choice of places 
 next time ; — that is in a fortnight. 
 
 Bessie had never seen her mistress in such a rage as now ; 
 and poor Bessie was never to see it again. At the first news, 
 slie was off her guard, and thanked Heaven that this 
 dangerous journey was put off for a fortnight; and much 
 might happen in that time. Her mistress turned round 
 upon her, said it was not put off, — she would go on horse- 
 back alone, — she would go on foot, — she would crawl on 
 her knees, sooner than give up. Bessie was silent, well 
 knowing that none of these ways would or could be tried, 
 and thankful that there was only this one coach to England. 
 Enraged at her silence, her mistress declared tiiat no one 
 
THE WRONG JOURNEY. 29 
 
 who was afraid to go to London was a proper servant for 
 her, and turned her off upon the spot. She paid her wages 
 to the weeping Bessie, and with the first hght of morning, 
 sent her from the house, herself closing the door behind 
 her. She then went to bed, drawing the curtains close 
 round it, remaining there all the next day, and refusing 
 food. 
 
 In the evening, she wearily rose, and slowly dressed her- 
 self, — for the first time in her life without help. She was 
 fretted and humbled at the little difficulties of her toilet, 
 and secretly wished, many times, that Bessie would come 
 back and offer her services, though she was resolved to 
 appear not to accept them without a very humble apology 
 from Bessie for her fears about London. At last, she was 
 ready to go down to tea, dressed in a wrapping gown and 
 slippers. When halfway down, she heard a step behind her, 
 and looked round. A Highlander was just two stairs above 
 her: another appeared at the foot of the flight; and more 
 were in the hall. She knew the livery. It was Lovat's tartan. 
 
 They dragged her downstairs, and into her parlour, where 
 she struggled so violently that she fell against the heavy 
 table, and knocked out two teeth. They fastened down 
 her arms by swathing her with a plaid, tied a cloth over her 
 mouth, threw another over her head, and carried her to the 
 door. In the street was a sedan chair; and in the chair 
 was a man who took her upon his knees, and held her fast. 
 Still she strtTggled so desperately, that the chair rocked from 
 
30 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 side to side, and would have been thrown over ; but that 
 there were plenty of attendants running along by the side of 
 it, who kept it upright. 
 
 This did not last very long. When they had got out of 
 the streets, the chair stopped. The cloth was removed from 
 her head ; and she saw that they were on the Linlithgow road, 
 that some horsemen were waiting, one of whom was on a 
 very stout horse, which bore a pillion behind the saddle. 
 To this person she was formally introduced, and told that 
 he was Mr. Forster of Corsebonny. She knew Mr. Forster 
 to be a gentleman of character; and that therefore her 
 personal safety was secure in his hands. But her good 
 opinion of him determined her to complain and appeal to 
 him in a way which she believed no gentleman could resist. 
 She did not think of making any outcry. The party was 
 large ; the road was unfrequented at night ; and she dreaded 
 being gagged. She therefore only spoke, — and that as 
 calmly as she could. 
 
 "What does this mean, Mr. Forster? Where are you 
 carrying me ? " 
 
 "I know little of Lord Carse's purposes, madam; and 
 less of the meaning of them probably than yourself." 
 
 " My Lord Carse ! Then I shall soon be among the 
 dead. He will go through Hfe with murder on his soul." 
 
 "You wrong him, madam. Your life is very safe." 
 
 "No; I will not live to be the sport of my husband's 
 mercy. I tell you, sir, I will not live.'' 
 
THE WRONG JOURNEY. 31 
 
 " Let me advise you to be silent, madam. Whatever we 
 have to say will be better said at the end of our stage, 
 where I hope you will enjoy good rest, under my word that 
 you shall not be molested." 
 
 But the lady would not be silent. She declared very 
 peremptorily her determination to destroy herself on the 
 first opportunity ; and no one who knew her temper could 
 dispute the probability of her doing that, or any other act 
 of passion. From bewailing herself, she went on to say 
 things of her husband and Lord Lovat, and of her purposes 
 in regard to them, which Mr. Forster felt that he and others 
 ought not, for her own sake, to hear. He quickened his 
 pace, but she complained of cramp in her side. He then 
 halted, whispered to two men who watched for his orders, 
 and had the poor lady again silenced by the cloth being 
 tied over her mouth. She tried to drop off, but that only 
 caused the strap which bound her to the rider to be buckled 
 tighter. She found herself treated like a wayward child. 
 When she could no longer make opposition, the pace of the 
 party was quickened, and it was not more than two hours 
 past midnight when they reached a country house, which 
 she knew to belong to an Edinburgh lawyer, a friend of her 
 husband's. 
 
 Servants were up — fires were burning — supper «'as on the 
 table. The lady was shown to a comfortable bedroom. 
 
 From thence she refused to come down. Mr. Forster 
 and another gentleman of the party therefore visited her to 
 
32 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCIC 
 
 explain as much as they thought proper of Lord Carse's 
 plans, and of their own method of proceeding. 
 
 They told her that Lord Carse found himself compelled, 
 for family reasons, to sequestrate her. For her life and 
 safety there was no fear; but she was to live where she 
 could have that personal liberty of which no one wished to 
 deprive her, without ojiportunity of intercourse with her 
 family. 
 
 " And where can that be ? " she asked. " Who will 
 undertake to say that I shall live, in the first place, and that 
 my children shall not hear from me, in the next ? " 
 
 " Where your abode is to be, we do not know," replied 
 Mr. Forster. " Perhaps it is not yet settled. As for your 
 life, madam, I have engaged to transfer you alive and safe, 
 as far as lies in human power." 
 
 " Transfer me ! To whom ? " 
 
 "To another friend of your husband's, who will take 
 equal care of you. I am sorry for your threats of violence 
 on yourself. They compel me to do what I should not 
 otherwise have thought of — to forbid your being alone, even 
 in this your own room." 
 
 " You do not mean " 
 
 " I mean that you are not to be left unwatched for a 
 single instant. There is a woman in the house— the house- 
 keeper. She and her husband will enter this room when I 
 leave it ; and I advise you to say nothing to them against 
 this arrangement." 
 
THE WRONG JOURNEl: 33 
 
 " They shall have no peace with me." 
 
 " I am sorry for it. It will be a bad preparation for your 
 further journey. You would do better to lie down and rest, 
 — for which ample time shall be allowed." 
 
 The people in charge of the house were summoned, and 
 ordered, in the lady's hearing, to watch her rest, and on no 
 account to leave the room till desired to do so. A table 
 was set out in one corner, with meat and bread, wine and 
 ale. But the unhappy lady would not attempt either to eat 
 or sleep. She sat by the fire, faint, weary and gloomy. She 
 listened to the sounds from below till the whole party had 
 supped, and lain down for the night. Then she watched 
 her guards, — the woman knitting, and the man reading his 
 Bible. At last, she could hold up no longer. Her head 
 sank on her breast, and she was scarcely conscious of being 
 gently lifted, laid upon the bed, and covered up warm with 
 cloak and plaid. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 NEWSPAPERS. 
 
 Lady Carse did not awake till the afternoon of the next 
 day ; and then she saw the housekeeper sitting knitting on 
 the same chair, and looking as if she had never stirred since 
 she took her place there in the middle of the night. The 
 man was not there. 
 
 The woman cheerfully invited the lady to rise and refresn 
 herself, and come to the fire, and then go down and dine. 
 But Lady Carse's spirit was awake as soon as her eyes were. 
 She said she would never rise — never eat again. The 
 woman begged her to think better of it, or she should be 
 obliged to call her husband to resume his watch, and to let 
 Mr. Forster know of her refusal to take food. To this the 
 poor lady answered only by burying her face in the 
 coverings, and remaining silent and motionless, for all the 
 woman could say. 
 
 In a little while, up came Mr. Forster, with three High- 
 landers. They lifted her, as if she had been a child, placed 
 her in an easy chair by the fireside, held back her head, and 
 poured down her throat a basin full of strong broth. 
 
 "It grieves me, madam," said Mr. Forster, "to be com- 
 pelled to treat you thus — like a wayward child. But I am 
 
 34 
 
NEWSPAPERS. 35 
 
 answerable for your life. You will be fed in this way as 
 often as you decline necessary food." 
 
 " I defy you still," she cried. 
 
 "Indeed!" said he, with a perplexed look. She had been 
 searched by the housekeeper in her sleep ; and it was 
 certain that no weapon and no drug was about her person. 
 She presently lay back in the chair, as if wishing to sleep, 
 throwing a shawl over her head ; and all withdrew except 
 the housekeeper and her husband. 
 
 In a little while some movement was perceived under the 
 shawl, and there was a suppressed choking sound. The 
 desperate woman was swallowing her hair, in order to vomit 
 up the nourishment she had taken — as another lady in des- 
 perate circumstances once did to get rid of poison. The 
 housekeeper was ordered to cut off her hair, and Mr. Forster 
 then rather rejoiced in this proof that she carried no means 
 of destroying her life. 
 
 As soon as it was quite dark she was compelled to take 
 more food, and then wrapped up warmly for a night ride. 
 Mr. Forster invited her to promise that she would not 
 speak, that he might be spared the necessity of bandaging 
 her mouth. But she declared her intention of speaking on 
 every possible occasion; and she was therefore effectually 
 prevented from opening her mouth at all. 
 
 On they rode through the night, stopping to dismount 
 only twice ; and then it was not at any house, but at mere 
 sheepfolds, where a fire was kindled by some of the party. 
 
36 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 and where they drank whisky, and laughed and talked in 
 the warmth and glow of the fire, as if the poor lady had not 
 been present. Between her internal passion, her need of 
 more food than she would take, the strangeness of the scene, 
 with the sparkling cold stars overhead, and the heat and 
 glow of the fire under the wall — amidst these distracting in- 
 fluences the lady felt confused and ill, and would have been 
 glad now to have been free to converse quietly, and to ac- 
 cept the mercy Mr. Forster had been ready to show her. 
 He was as watchful as ever, sat next her as she lay on the 
 ground, said at last that they had not much further to go, 
 and felt her pulse. As the grey light of morning strength- 
 ened, he went slower and slower, and encouraged her to lean 
 upon him, which her weakness compelled her to do. He 
 sent forward the factor of the estate they were now entering 
 upon, desiring him to see that everything was warm and 
 comfortable. 
 
 When the building they were approaching came in view, 
 the poor lady wondered how it could ever be made warm 
 and comfortable. It was a little old tower, the top of which 
 was in ruins, and the rest as dreary looking as possible. 
 Cold and bare it stood on a waste hill side. It would have 
 looked like a mere grey pillar set down on the scanty pas- 
 ture, but for a square patch behind, which was walled in by 
 a hard ugly wall of stones. A thin grey smoke arose from 
 it, showing that someone was within ; and dogs began to 
 bark as the party drew near. 
 
NEWSPAPERS. 
 
 37 
 
 One woman was here as at the last resting place. She 
 showed the way by the narrow winding stair, up which Lady 
 Carse was carried like a corpse, and laid on a little bed in a 
 very small room, whose single window was boatded up, 
 
 '■- . -"- y>^' 
 
 HE ENCOURAGED HER TO LEAN UPON HIM. 
 
 leaving only a square of glass at the top to admit the light. 
 Mr. Forster stood at the bedside, and said firmly, 
 "Now, Lady Carse, listen to me for a moment, and then 
 you will be left with such freedom as this room and this 
 woman's attendance can afford you. You are so exhausted, 
 that we have changed our plan of travel. You will remain 
 
38 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 here, in this room, till you have so recruited yourself by food 
 and rest as to be able to proceed to a place where all re- 
 straint will be withdrawn. When you think yourself able to 
 proceed, and declare your willingness to do so, I, or a friend 
 of mine, will be at your service — at your call at any hour. 
 Till then this room is your abode ; and till then I bid you 
 farewell." 
 
 He unfastened the bandage, and was gone before she 
 could speak to him. What she wanted to say was, that on 
 such terms she would never leave this room again. She 
 desired the woman to tell him so ; but the woman said she 
 had orders to carry no messages. 
 
 Where there is no help and no hope, any force of mere 
 temper is sure to give way, as Mr. Forster well knew. In- 
 jured people who have done no wrong, and who bear no 
 anger against their enemies, have an inward strength and 
 liberty of mind which enable them to bear on firmly, and to 
 be immovable in their righteous purposes ; so that, as has 
 been shown by many examples, they will be torn limb from 
 limb sooner than yield. Lady Carse was an injured person — 
 most deeply injured, but she was not innocent. She had a 
 purpose ; but it was a vindictive one ; and her soul was all 
 tossed with passion, instead of being settled in patience. 
 So her intentions of starving herself— of making Mr. 
 Forster miserable by killing herself through want of sleep 
 and food, gave way ; and then she was in a rage with herself 
 for having given way. When all was still in the tower, and 
 
NEU'SPAPEJiS. 39 
 
 the silent woman who attended her knitted on for hours to- 
 gether, as if she was a machine ; and there was nothing to 
 be seen from the boarded window; and the smouldering 
 peats in the fireplace looked as if they were asleep, Lady 
 Carse could not always keep awake, and, once asleep, she 
 did not wake for many hours. 
 
 When, at length, she started up and looked around her, 
 she was alone, and the room was lighted only by a flickering 
 blaze from the fireplace. This dancing light fell on a little 
 low round table, on which was a plate with some slices of 
 mutton-ham, some oatcake, three or four eggs, and a pitcher. 
 She was ravenously hungry, and she was alone. She thought 
 she would take something — so little as to save her pride, 
 and not to show that she had yielded. But, once yielding, 
 this was impossible. She ate, and ate, till all was gone — 
 even the eggs ; and it would have been the same if they hatl 
 been raw. The pitcher contained ale, and she emptied it. 
 When she had done, she could have died with shame. She 
 was just thinking of setting her dress on fire, when she heard 
 the woman's step on the stair. She threw herself on the 
 bed, and pretended to be asleep. Presently she was so, and 
 she had another long nap. When she woke the table had 
 nothing on it but the woman's knitting; the woman was 
 putting peats on the fire, and she made no remark, then or 
 afterwards, on the disappearance of the food. From that 
 day forward food was laid out while the lady slept; and 
 when she awoke, she found herself alone to eat it. It was 
 
40 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 served without knife or fork, with only bone spoons. It 
 would have been intolerable shame to her if she had known 
 that she was watched, through a little hole in the door, as a 
 precaution against any attempt on her life. 
 
 But her intentions of this kind too gave way. She was 
 well aware that though not free to go where she liked she 
 could, any day, find herself in the open air with liberty 
 to converse, except on certain subjects ; and that she might 
 presently be in some abode — she did not know what — 
 where she could have full personal liberty, and her present 
 confinement being her own choice made it much less 
 dignified, and this caused her to waver about throwing off 
 life and captivity together. The moment never came when 
 she was disposed to try. 
 
 At the end of a week she felt great curiosity to know 
 whether Mr. Forster was at the tower all this time waiting 
 her pleasure. She would not enquire lest she should be 
 suspected of the truth — that she was beginning to wish 
 to see him. She tried one or two distant questions on 
 her attendant, but the woman knew nothing. There 
 seemed to be no sort of question that she could answer. 
 
 In a few days more the desire for some conversation with 
 somebody became very pressing, and Lady Carse was not 
 in the habit of denying herself anything she wished for. 
 Still, her pride pulled the other way. The plan she thought 
 of was to sit apparently musing or asleep by the fire while 
 her attendant swept the floor of her room, and suddenly to 
 
NEWSPAFEHS. 41 
 
 run downstairs while the door was open. This she did one 
 day, when she was pretty sure she had heard an unusual 
 sound of horses' feet below. If Mr. Forster should be 
 going without her seeing him it would be dreadful. If he 
 should have arrived after an absence this would afford a 
 pretext for renewing intercourse with him. So she watched 
 her moment, sprang to the door, and was down the stair before 
 her attendant could utter a cry of warning to those below. 
 
 Lady Carse stood on the last stair, gazing into the httle 
 kitchen, which occupied the ground floor of the tower. 
 Two or three people turned and gazed at her, as startled, 
 perhaps, as herself; and she was startled, for one of them 
 was Lord Lovat. 
 
 Mr. Forster recovered himself, bowed, and said that 
 perhaps she found herself able to travel ; in which case, 
 he was at her service. 
 
 " O dear, no ! " she said. She had no intention whatever 
 of travelling further. She had heard an arrival of horse- 
 men, and had merely come down to know if there was any 
 news from Edinburgh. 
 
 Lord Lovat bowed, said he had just arrived from town, 
 and would be happy to wait on her upstairs with any 
 tidings that she might enquire for. 
 
 " By no means," she said, haughtily. She would wait for 
 tidings rather than learn them from Lord Lovat. She 
 turned, and went upstairs again, stung by hearing Lord 
 Lovat's hateful laugh behind her as she went. 
 
42 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 As she sat by the fire, devouring her shame and wrath, 
 her attendant came up with a handful of newspapers, and 
 Lord Lovat's compliments, and he had sent her the latest 
 Edinburgh news to read, as she did not wish to hear it from 
 him. She snatched the papers, meaning to thrust them 
 into the fire in token of contempt for the sender; but a 
 longing to read them came over her, and she might convey 
 sufficient contempt by throwing them on the bed — and this 
 she accordingly did. 
 
 She watched them, however, as a cat does a mouse. 
 The woman seemed to have no intention of going down 
 any more to-day. Whether the lady was watched, and her 
 impatience detected, through the hole in the door, or 
 whether humanity suggested that the unhappy creature 
 should be permitted an hour of solitude on such an 
 occasion, the woman was called down, and did not 
 immedia,tely return. 
 
 How impatiently, then, were the papers seized ! How 
 unsettled was the eye which ran over the columns, while the 
 mind was too feverish to comprehend what it read ! In a 
 little while, however, the ordinary method of newspaper 
 reading established itself, and she went on from one item to 
 another with more amusement than anxiety. In this mood, 
 and with the utmost suddenness, she came upon the 
 announcement, in large letters, of " The Funeral of Lady 
 Carse ! " It was even so ! In one paper was a paragraph 
 intimating the threatening illness of Lady Carse ; in the 
 
NE WSPAPERS. 43 
 
 next, the announcement of her death ; in the third, a full 
 account of her funeral, as taking place from her husband's 
 house. 
 
 Her fate was now clear. She was lost to the world for 
 ever ! In the midst of the agony of this doom she could 
 yet be stung by the thought that this was the cause of Lord 
 Lovat's complaisance in sending her the newspapers ; that 
 here was the reason of the only indulgence which had been 
 permitted her ! 
 
 As for the rest, her mind made short work of it. Her 
 object must now be to confound her foes — to prove to the 
 world that she was not dead and buried. From this place 
 she could not do this. Here there was no scope and no 
 hope. In travelling, and in her future residence, there 
 might be a thousand opportunities. She could not stay 
 here another hour, and so she sent word to Mr. Forster. 
 His reply was that he should be happy to escort her that 
 night. From the stair-head she told him that she could not 
 wait till night. He declared it impossible to make pro- 
 vision for her comfort along the road without a few hours' 
 notice by a hoj-seman sent forward. The messenger was 
 already saddling his horse, and by nine in the evening the 
 rest of the party would follow. 
 
 At nine the lady was on her pillion, but now comfortably 
 clad in a country dress — homely, but warm. It was dark, 
 buf she was informed that the party thoroughly knew their 
 
 4 — 2 
 
44 
 
 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 road, and that in four or five days they should have the 
 benefit of the young moon. 
 
 So, after four or five days, they were to be still travelling ! 
 Where could they be carrying her ? 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 CROSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. 
 
 Where they were carrying her was more than Lady Carse 
 herself could discover. To the day of her death she never 
 knew what country she had traversed during the dreary and 
 fatiguing week which ensued. She saw Stirling Castle 
 standing up on its mighty rock against the dini sky ; and 
 she knew that before dawn they had entered the Highlands. 
 But beyond this she was wholly ignorant. In those days 
 there were no milestones on the road she travelled. The 
 party went near no town, stopped at no inn, and never 
 permitted her an opportunity of speaking to anyone 
 out of their own number. They always halted before 
 daylight at some solitary house — left open for them, 
 but uninhabited — or at some cowshed, where they 
 shook down straw for her bed, made a fire, and cooked 
 their food; and at night they always remounted, and 
 rode for many hours, through a wild country, where the 
 most hopeful of captives could not dream of rescue. Some- 
 times they carried torches while ascending a narrow ravine, 
 where a winter torrent dashed down the steep rocks and 
 whirled away below, and where the lady unawares showed 
 her desire to live by clinging faster to the horseman behind 
 whom she rode. Sometimes she saw the whole starry hemi- 
 
46 THE BILLOVl' AND THE ROCK. 
 
 sphere resting like a dome on a vast moorland, the stars 
 rising from the horizon here and sinking there, as at sea. 
 The party rarely passed any farmsteads or other dwellings ; 
 and when they did silence was commanded, and the riders 
 turned their horses on the grass or soft earth, in order to 
 appear as little as possible like a cavalcade to any wakeful 
 ears. Once, on such an occasion. Lady Carse screamed 
 aloud ; but this only caused her to be carried at a gallop, 
 which instantly silenced her, and then to be gagged for the 
 rest of the night. She would have promised to make no 
 such attempt again, such a horror had she now of the muffle 
 which bandaged her mouth, but nobody asked her to 
 promise. On the contrary, she heard one man say to 
 another, that the lady might scream all night long now, if 
 she liked ; nobody but the eagles would answer her, now 
 she was among the Frasers. 
 
 Among the Frasers ! Then she was on Lord Lovat's 
 estates. Here there was no hope for her; and all her 
 anxiety was to get on, though every step removed her 
 further from her friends, and from the protection of law. 
 But this was exactly the place where she was to stop for a 
 considerable time. 
 
 Having arrived at a solitary house among moorland hills, 
 Mr. Forster told her that she would live here till the days 
 should be longer, and the weather warm enough for a more 
 comfortable prosecution of her further journey. He would 
 advise her to take exercise in the garden, sm-all as it was, 
 
CROSS HOADS AND SHORT SEAS. 47 
 
 and to be cheerful, and preserve her health, in expectation 
 of the summer, when she would reach a place where all 
 restrictions on her personal liberty would cease. He would 
 now bid her farewell. 
 
 " You are going back to Edinburgh," said she, rising from 
 her seat by the fire. " You will see Lord Carse. Tell him 
 that though he has buried his wife, he has not got rid of her. 
 Shewillhaunt him — she will shame him — she will ruin him yet." 
 
 "I see now " observed a voice behind her. She 
 
 turned and perceived Lord Lovat, who addressed himself to 
 Mr. Forster, saying, 
 
 "I see now that it is best to let such people live. If she 
 were dead, we cannot say but that she might haunt him ; 
 though I myself have no great belief of it. As it is, she is 
 safe out of his way — at any rate, till she dies first. I see 
 now that his method is the right one." 
 
 "AVhy, I don't know, my lord," replied Lady Carse. 
 " You should consider how little trouble it would have cost 
 to put me out of the way in my grave; and how much 
 trouble I am costing you now. It is some comfort to me to 
 think of the annoyance and risk, and fatigue and expense, I 
 am causing you all." 
 
 "You mistake the thing, madam. We rejoice in these 
 things, as incurred for the sake of some people over the 
 water. It gratifies our loyalty — our loyalty, madam, is a 
 sentiment which exalts and endears the meanest services, 
 even that of sequestrating a spy, an informer." 
 
48 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 "Come, come, Lovat, it is time we were off," said 
 Mr. Forster, who was at once ashamed of his companion's 
 brutality, and alarmed at its effect upon the lady. She 
 looked as if she would die on the spot. She had not been 
 aware till now how her pride had been gratified by the 
 sense of her own importance, caused by so many gentlemen 
 of consequence entering into her husband's plot against her 
 liberty. She was now rudely told that it was all for their 
 own sakes. She was controlled not as a dignified and 
 powerful person, but as a mischievous informer. She rallied 
 quickly — not only through pride, but from the thought that 
 power is power, whencesoever derived, and that she might 
 yet make Lord Lovat feel this, She curtseyed to the 
 gentlemen, saying, 
 
 " It is your turn now to jeer, gentlemen ; and to board up 
 windows, and the like. The day may come when I shall 
 sit at a window to see your heads fall." 
 
 " Time will show," said Lord Lovat, with a smile, and an 
 elegant bow. And they left her alone. 
 
 They no longer feared to leave her alone. Her temper 
 was well known to them j and her purposes of ultimate 
 revenge, once clearly announced, were a guarantee that she 
 would, if possible, live to execute them. She would make 
 no attempts upon her life henceforward. 
 
 Weeks and months passed on. The snow came, and lay 
 long, and melted away. Beyond the garden wall she saw 
 sprinklings of young grass among the dark heather; and 
 
CROSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. 49 
 
 now the bleat of a Iamb, and now the scudding brood of the 
 moor-fowl, told her that spring was come. Long lines of 
 wild geese in the upper air, winging steadily northwards, 
 indicated the advancing season. The whins within view 
 
 SHE CURTSEYED TO THE GENTLEMEN. 
 
 burst into blossom ; and the morning breeze which dried 
 the dews wafted their fragrance. Then the brooding mists 
 drew off under the increasing warmth of the sun j and the 
 lady discovered that there was a lake within view — a wide 
 expanse, winding away among mountains till it was lost 
 
so THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 behind their promontories. She strained her eyes to see 
 vessels on this lake, and now and then she did perceive a 
 little sail hoisted, or a black speck, which must be a row- 
 boat traversing the waters when they were sheeny in the 
 declining sun. These things, and the lengthening and 
 warmth of the days, quickened her impatience to be 
 removed. She often asked the people of the house whether 
 no news and no messengers had come ; but they did not 
 improve in their knowledge of the English tongue any more 
 than she did in that of the Gaelic, and she could obtain no 
 satisfaction. In the sunny mornings she lay on the little 
 turf-plat in the garden, or walked restlessly among the 
 cabbage-beds (being allowed to go no further), or shook the 
 locked gate desperately, till someone came out to warn her 
 to let it alone. In the June nights she stood at her window, 
 only one small pane of which would open, watching the 
 mists shifting and curling in the moonlight, or the sheet 
 lightning which now and then revealed the lake in the 
 bosom of the mountains, or appeared to lay open the whole 
 sky. But June passed away, and there was no change. 
 July came and went — the sun was visibly shortening his 
 daily journey, and leaving an hour of actual darkness in the 
 middle of the night : and still there was no prospect of a 
 further journey. She began to doubt Mr. Forster as much 
 as she hated Lord Lovat, and to say to herself that his 
 promises of further personal liberty in the summer were mere 
 coaxing words, uttered to secure a quiet retreat from her 
 
CJiOSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. 5 c 
 
 presence. If she could see him, for only five minutes, how 
 she would tell him her mind ! 
 
 She never again saw Mr. Forster: but, one night in 
 August, while she was at the window, and just growing 
 sleepy, she was summoned by the woman of the house to 
 dress herself for a night ride. She prepared herself eagerly 
 enough, and was off presently, without knowing anything of 
 the horsemen who escorted her. 
 
 It was with a gleam of pleasure that she saw that they 
 were approaching the lake she had so often gazed at from 
 afar : and her heart grew lighter still when she found that she 
 was to traverse it. She began to talk, in her new exhilara- 
 tion; and she did not leave off, though nobody replied. 
 But her exclamations about the sunrise, the clearness of the 
 water, and the leaping of the fish, died away when she 
 looked from face to face of those about her, and found them 
 all strange and very stern. At last, the dip of the oars was 
 the only sound ; but it was a pleasant and soothing one. 
 All went well this day. After landing, the party proceeded 
 westwards — as they did nightly for nearly a week. It 
 mattered litde that they did not enter a house in all that 
 time. The weather was so fine, that a sheepfold, or a grassy 
 nook of the moorland, served all needful purposes of a 
 resting place by day. 
 
 On the sixth night, a surprise, and a terrible surprise, 
 awaited the poor lady. Her heart misgave her when the 
 night wind brought the sound of the sea to her ears — the 
 
52 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 surging sea which tosses and roars in the rocky inlets of the 
 western cgiast of Scotland. But her dismay was dreadful 
 when she discovered that there was a vessel below, on board 
 which she was to be carried without delay. On the instant, 
 dreadful visions arose before her imagination, of her being 
 carried to a foreign shore, to be delivered into the hands of 
 the Stuarts, to be punished as a traitor and spy ; and of 
 those far off plantations and dismal colonies where people 
 troublesome to their families were said to be sent, to be 
 chained to servile labour with criminals and slaves. She 
 wept bitterly: she clasped her hands — she threw herself at 
 the feet of the conductor of the party — she appealed to 
 them all, telling them to do what they would with her, if 
 only they would not carry her to sea. Most of them looked 
 at one another, and made no reply — not understanding her 
 language. The conductor told her to fear nothing, as she 
 was in the hands of the Macdonalds, who had orders from 
 Sir Alexander Macdonald, of Skye, to provide for her safety. 
 He promised that the voyage would not be a long one ; and 
 that as soon as the sloop should have left the loch she 
 should be told where she was going. With that, he lifted 
 her lightly, stepped into a boat, and was rowed to the sloop, 
 where she was received by the owner, and half a dozen 
 other Macdonalds, For some hours they waited for a wind ; 
 and sorely did the master wish it would come ; for the lady 
 lost not a glimpse of an opportunity of pleading her cause, 
 explaining that she was stolen from Edinburgh, against the 
 
CROSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. S3 
 
 laws. He told her she had better be quiet, as nothing could 
 be done. Sir Alexander Macdonald was in the affair. He, 
 for one, would never keep her or anyone against their will, 
 
 WATCHING THE VANISHING OF THE LAND. 
 
 unless Sir Alexander Macdonald were in it: but nothing 
 could be done. He saw, however, that some impression was 
 made on one person, who visited the sloop on business, one 
 WiUiam Tolney, who had connexions at Inverness, from 
 
54 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 having once been a merchant there, and who was now a 
 tenant of the Macleods, in a neighbouring island. This 
 man was evidently touched ; and the Macdonalds held a 
 consultation in consequence, the result of which was that 
 William Tolney was induced to be silent on what he had 
 seen and heard. Bat for many a weary year after did Lady 
 Carse turn with hope to the image of the stranger who had 
 listened to her on board the sloop, taken the address of her 
 lawyer, and said that in his opinion something must be 
 done. 
 
 In the evening the wind rose, and the sloop moved down 
 the loch. With a heavy heart the lady next morning 
 watched the vanishing of the last of Glengarry's seats, on a 
 green platform between the grey and bald mountains ; then 
 the last fishing hamlet on the shores ; and, finally, a flock of 
 herons come abroad to the remotest point of the shore from 
 their roosting places in the tall trees that sheltered Glen- 
 garry's abode. After that all was wretchedness. For many 
 days she was on the tossing sea — the sloop now scudding 
 before the wind, now heaving on the troubled waters, now 
 creeping along between desolate looking islands, now 
 apparently lost amidst the boundless ocean. At length, 
 soon after sunrise, one bright morning, the sail was taken in, 
 and the vessel lay before the entrance of an harbour which 
 looked like the mouth of a small river. At noon the sun 
 beat hot on the deck of the sloop. In the afternoon the 
 lady impatiendy asked what they were waiting for— if this 
 
CJ?OSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. 55 
 
 really was, as she was told, their place of destination. The 
 wind was not contrary ; what where they waiting for ? 
 
 " No, madam ; the wind is fair. But it is a curious 
 circumstance about this harbour that it can be entered 
 safely only at night. It is one of the most dangerous 
 harbours in all the isles." 
 
 "And you dare to enter it at night? What do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 '• I will show you, madam, when night comes.'' 
 
 Lady Carse suspected that the delay was on her ac- 
 count ; that she was not to land by daylight, less too much 
 sympathy should be excited by her among the inhabitants. 
 Her indignation at this stimulated her to observe all she 
 could of the appearance of the island, in case of opportunity 
 occurring to turn to the account of an escape any knowledge 
 she miglit obtain. On the rocky ledges which stretched 
 out into the sea lay basking several seals ; and all about 
 them, and on every higher ledge, were myriads of puffins. 
 Hundreds of puffins and fulmars were in the air, and skim- 
 ming the waters. The fulmars poised themselves on their 
 long wings ; the fat little puffins poffled about in the water, 
 and made a great commotion were everything else was 
 quiet. From these lower ridges of rock vast masses arose, 
 black and solemn, some perpendicular, some with a slope 
 too steep and smooth to permit a moment's dream of climb- 
 ing them. Even on this warm day of August the clouds 
 had not risen above the highest peaks ; and they threw a 
 
56 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 gloom over the interior of the small island, while the 
 skirting rocks and sea were glittering in the sunshine. 
 Even the scanty herbage of the slopes at the top of the 
 rocks looked almost a bright green where the sun fell 
 upon it; and especially where it descended so far as to 
 come into contrast with the blackness of the yawning 
 caverns with which the rocky wall was here and there 
 perforated. 
 
 The lady perceived no dwellings \ but Macdonald, who 
 observed her searching gaze, pointed his glass and invited 
 her to look through it. At first she saw nothing but 
 a dim confusion of grey rocks and dull grass ; but at length 
 she made out a grey cottage, with a roof of turf, and a peat 
 stack beside it. 
 
 " I see one dwelling," said the lady. 
 
 "You see it," observed Macdonald, satisfied, and re- 
 suming his glass. Then, observing the lady was not 
 satisfied, he added, " There are more dwellings, but 
 they are behind yonder ridge, out of sight. That is 
 where my place is." 
 
 Lady Carse did not at present discern where the dangerous 
 sympathy with her case was to come from. But there was 
 no saying how many dwellings there might be behind that 
 ridge. She once more insisted on landing by daylight ; 
 and was once more told that it was out of the question. 
 She resolved to keep as wide awake as her suspicions, in 
 order to see what Mras to be done with her. She was 
 
CJiOSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. 57 
 
 anxiously on the watch in the darkness an hour before mid- 
 night, when Macdonald said to her, 
 
 " Now for it, madam ! I will presently show you some- 
 thing curious." 
 
 The sloop began to move under the soft breathing night 
 wind ; and in a few minutes Macdonald asked her if she 
 saw anything before her, a little to the right. At first she 
 did not; but was presently told that a tiny spark, too 
 minute to be noticed by any but those who were looking 
 for it, was a guiding light. 
 
 "Where is it?" asked the lady. "Why have not you a 
 more effectual light ? " 
 
 " We are thankful enough to have any : and it serves our 
 turn." 
 
 " Oh 1 I suppose it is a smuggler's signal, and it would 
 not do to make it more conspicuous." 
 
 " No, madam. It is far from being a smuggler's signal. 
 There is a woman, Annie Fleming, living in the grey house 
 I showed you, an honest and pious soul, who keeps up that 
 light for all that want it." 
 
 " Why ? Who employs her ? " 
 
 " She does it of her own liking. Some have heard tell, 
 but I don't know it for true, that when she and her husband 
 were young she saw him drown, from his boat having run 
 foul in the harbour that she overlooks, and that from that 
 day to this she has had a light up there every night. I can 
 say that I never miss it when I come home ; and I always 
 
S8 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 enter by night, trusting to it as the best landmark in this 
 diflicult harbour." 
 
 " And do the other inhabitants trust to it, and come in 
 by night ? " 
 
 Macdonald answered that his was the only boat on the 
 island ; but he believed that all who had business on the 
 sea between this and Skye knew that light, and made use of 
 it, on occasion, in dangerous weather. And now he must 
 not talk, but see to his vessel. 
 
 This is the only boat on the island ! He must mean the 
 only sloop. There must be fishing boats. There must and 
 should be, the lady resolved ; for she would get back to the 
 mainland. She would not spend her days here, beyond the 
 westerly Skye, where she had just learned that this island 
 lay. 
 
 The anxious business of entering the harbour was accom- 
 plished by slow degrees, under the guidance of the spark on 
 the hill side. At dawn the little vessel was moored to a 
 natural pier of rock, and the lady was asked whether she 
 would proceed to Macdonald's house immediately or take 
 some hours' rest first. 
 
 Here ended her fears of being secluded from popular 
 sympathy. She was weary of the sea and the vessel, and 
 made all haste to leave them. 
 
 Her choice lay between walking and being carried by 
 Highlanders. She chose to walk; and with some fatigue, 
 and no little internal indignation, she traversed a mile and a 
 
CJiOSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. 59 
 
 half of rocky and moorland ways, then arriving at a sordid 
 and dreary looking farmhouse, standing alone in a wild 
 place, to which Macdonald proudly introduced her as Sir 
 Alexander's estate on this island, of which he was the 
 tenaot. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE STEADFAST. 
 
 It was a serene evening when, the day after her landing, 
 Lady Carse approached Widow Fleming's abode. The sun 
 was going down in a clear sky ; and when, turning from the 
 dazzling western sea, the eye wandered eastwards, the view 
 was such as could not but transport a heart at ease. The 
 tide was low, and long shadows from the rocks lay upon the 
 yellow sands and darkened, near the shore, the translucent 
 sea. At the entrance of the black caverns the spray leaped 
 up on the advance of every wave, — not in threatening but 
 as if at play. Far away over the lilac and green waters 
 arose the craggy peaks of Skye, their projections and 
 hollows in the softest light and shadow. As the sea birds 
 rose from their rest upon the billows, opposite the sun, 
 diamond drops fell from their wings. Nearer at hand there 
 was little beauty but what a brilliant sunset sheds over 
 every scene. There were shadows from the cottage over 
 the dull green sward, and from the two or three goats which 
 moved about on the ledges and slopes of the upper rocks. 
 The cottage itself was more lowly and much more odd than 
 the lady had conceived from anything she had yet seen 
 or heard of Its walls were six feet thick, and roofed 
 from the inside, leaving a sort of platform all round, which 
 
 CO 
 
THE STEADFAST. 6i 
 
 was overgrown with coarse herbage. The outer and inner 
 surfaces of the wall were of stones, and the middle part was 
 filled in with earth; so that grass might well grow on the 
 top. The roof was of thatch — part straw, part sods, tied 
 down to cross poles by ropes of twisted heather. The 
 walls did not rise more than five feet from the ground; 
 and nothing could be easier than for the goats to leap 
 up, when tempted to graze there. A kid was now amusing 
 itself on one corner. As Lady Carse walked round, she 
 was startled at seeing a woman sitting on the opposite 
 corner. Her back was to the sun — her gaze fixed on the 
 sea, and her fingers were busy knitting. The lady had 
 some doubts at first about its being the widow, as this 
 woman wore a bright cotton handkerchief tied over her 
 head : but a glance at the face when it was turned towards 
 her assured her that it was Annie Fleming herself. 
 
 " No, do not come down," said the lady. " Let me come 
 up beside you. I see the way." 
 
 And she stepped up by means of the projecting stones 
 of the wall, and threw herself down beside the quiet knitter. 
 
 "What are you making? Mittens? And what of? 
 What sort of wool is this ? " 
 
 "It is goats' hair." 
 
 "Tiresome work!" the lady observed. "Wool is bad 
 enough ; but these short lengths of hair ! I should never 
 have patience." 
 
 The widow replied that she had time in these summer 
 
62 
 
 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 evenings; and she was glad to take the chance of selling 
 a few pairs when Macdonald went to the main, once or 
 twice a year. 
 
 "How do they sell? What do you get for them?" 
 
 SHE THREW HERSELF DOWN BESIDE THE QUIET KNITTER.. 
 
 " I get oil to last me for some time.'' 
 "And what else ? " 
 
 " Now and then I may want something else ; but I get 
 chiefly oil — as what I want most," 
 
THE STEADFAST. 63 
 
 The widow saw that Lady Carse was not attending to 
 what she said, and was merely making an opening for what 
 she herself wanted to utter : so Annie said no more of her 
 work and its payment, but waited. 
 
 " This is a dreadful place," the lady burst out. " Nobody 
 can live here." 
 
 " I have heard there are kindlier places to live in," the 
 widow replied. " This island must appear rather bare to 
 people who come from the south, — as I partly remember 
 myself" 
 
 "Where did you come from? Do you know where 
 I come from ? Do you know who I am ? " cried the lady. 
 
 " I came from .Dumfries. I have not heard where you 
 lived, my lady. I was told by Macdonald that you came 
 by Sir Alexander Macdonald's orders, to live here hence- 
 forward." 
 
 " I will not live here henceforward. I would sooner die." 
 
 The widow looked surprised. In answer to that look 
 Lady Carse said, 
 
 " Ah ! you do not know who I am, nor what brought me 
 here, or you would see that I cannot live here, and why I 
 would rather die. — Why do not you speak ? Why do you 
 not ask me what I have suffered?" 
 
 "I should not think of it, my lady. Those who have 
 suffered are slow to speak of their heart pain, and would be 
 ashamed before God to say how much oftener they would 
 rather have died." 
 
64 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 "I must speak, however, and I will," declared Lady 
 Carse. "You know I must; and you are the only person 
 in the island that I can speak to. — I want to live with you. 
 I must. I know you are a good woman. I know you are 
 kind. If you are kind to mere strangers that come in 
 boats, and keep a light to save them from shipwreck, you 
 will not be cruel to me — the most ill used creature — the 
 most wretched — the most " 
 
 She hid her face on her knees, and wept bitterly. 
 
 "Take courage, my lady," said Annie. " If you have not 
 strength enough for your troubles to-day, it only shows that 
 there is more to come.'' 
 
 "I do not want strength," said the lady. "You do not 
 know me. I am not wanting in strength. What I want — 
 what I must have — is justice." 
 
 " Well — that is what we are all most sure of when God's 
 day comes," said Annie. " That we are quite sure of. And 
 we may surely hope for patience till then, if we really wish 
 it. So I trust you will be comforted, my lady." 
 
 "I cannot stay here, however. There are no people 
 here. There is nobody that I can endure at Macdonald's, 
 and there are none others but labourers, and they speak only 
 Gaelic. And it is a wretched place. They have not even 
 bread. — Mrs. Fleming, I must come and live with you.'' 
 
 " I have no bread, my lady. I have nothing so good as 
 they have at Macdonald's." 
 
 "You have a kind heart. Never mind the bread now. 
 
THE STEADFAST. 65 
 
 We will see about that. I don't care how I live; but I 
 want to stay with you. I want never to go back to 
 Macdonald's." 
 
 The widow stepped down to the ground, and beckoned 
 to the lady to follow her into the house. It was a poor 
 place as could be seen : — one room with a glazed window 
 looking towards the harbour, a fireplace and a bed opposite 
 the window ; —a rickety old bedstead, with an exhausted 
 flock bed and a rug upon it; and from one end of the 
 apartment, a small dim space partitioned off, in which was 
 a still less comfortable bed, laid on trestles made of drift- 
 wood. 
 
 " Who sleeps here ? " 
 
 " My son, when he is at home. He is absent now, my 
 lady: and see, this is the only place;— no place for you, 
 my lady." 
 
 Lady Carse shrank back impatiently. She then turned 
 and said, 
 
 " I might have this larger room, and you the other. I 
 shall find means of paying you " 
 
 " Impossible, madam," the widow replied. " I am obliged 
 to occupy this room." 
 
 " For to-night, at least, you will let me have it. I cannot 
 go back to Macdonald's to-night. I will not go back at all ; 
 and you cannot turn me out to-night. I have other reasons 
 besides those I mentioned. I must be in sight of the har- 
 bour. It is my only hope." 
 
66 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 " You can stay here, if you will, madam ; and you can 
 have that bed. But I can never leave this room between 
 dark and light. I have yonder lamp to attend to." 
 
 " Oh ! I will attend to the lamp." 
 
 The widow smiled, and observed that she hoped the lady 
 would have better sleep than she could enjoy if she had the 
 lamp to watch ; and that was a business which she could 
 not commit to another hand. In the course of the argument, 
 the lady discovered that it would be a serious matter to let 
 out both the fire and lamp, as there was no tinder-box on 
 the island, and no wood, except in the season of storms, 
 when some was drifted up wet. 
 
 " I should like to live with you, and help you to keep up 
 your lamp," said the lady. " If you could only manage a 
 
 room for me Not that I mean to stay in this island ! 
 
 I will not submit to that. But while I- am waiting to get 
 away, I should like to spend my time with you. You have 
 a heart. You would feel for me." 
 
 "I do feel for you, madam. This must be a terrible 
 place for you, just to-day, — and for many days to come. 
 But oh ! my lady, if you want peace of mind, this is the 
 place I It is a blessing that may be had anywhere, I know. 
 One would think it shone down from the sky or breathed 
 out from the air, — it is so sure to be wherever the sky bends 
 over, or the air wraps us round. But of all places, this is 
 the one for peace of mind." 
 
 '• This ! — th'i<! dreary island ! " 
 
THE STEADFAST. 67 
 
 " This quiet island. Look out now, and see if you can 
 call it dreary. Why, madam, there can hardly be a brighter 
 glory, or a more cheerful glow among the sons of God about 
 the throne, than there is at this moment over sea and shore, 
 and near at home up to the very stone of my threshold. 
 Madam, I could never think this island dreary." 
 
 " It is not always sunset, nor always summer time," said 
 Lady Carse, who could not deny nor wholly resist the 
 beauty of the scene. 
 
 " Other beauty comes by night and in the winter," ob- 
 served the widow, "and at times a grandeur which is better 
 than the beauty. If the softness of this sunshine nourishes 
 our peace of mind, yet more does the might of the storms. 
 The beauty might be God's messenger. The might is God 
 Himself." 
 
 "You speak as if you did not fear God," said the lady, 
 with the light inexperience of one to whom such subjects 
 were not familiar, 
 
 " As a sinner, I fear Him, madam. But as His child 
 
 Why, madam, what else have we in all the universe ? And 
 having Him, what more do we want ? " 
 
 "He has made us full of wants," said the lady. "I, for 
 one, am all bereaved, and very, very wretched. — But do not 
 let us talk of that now. One who is alone in this place, 
 and knows and needs nothing beyond, cannot enter into my 
 sorrows at once. It will take long to make you conceive 
 such misery as mine. But it will be a comfort to me to 
 
68 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 open my heart to you. And I must live within view of the 
 harbour. I must see every boat that comes. They say 
 you do." 
 
 " I do. They are few ; but I see them all." 
 "And you save a good many by the spark in your 
 window." 
 
 " It has pleased God to save some, it is thought, who 
 would have perished as some perished before them. He 
 set me that task, in a solemn way, many years ago; and 
 any mercy that has grown out of it is His, — Do you see 
 any vessel on the sea, madam ? I always look abroad 
 the last thing before the sun goes down. My eyes can 
 hardly be much older than yours ; but they are much worn." 
 "How have you so used your eyes? Is it that hair- 
 knitting?" 
 
 " That is not good. But it is more the sharp winds, and 
 the night watching, and the shine of the sea in the day." 
 
 " I must live with you. I will watch for you, night and 
 day. You think I cannot. You think I shall tire. Why, 
 you are not weary of it." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I shall never be weary of it." 
 " Much less should I. You want only to keep up youj- 
 lamp. I want to get away. All the interests of my life lie 
 beyond this sea ; and do you think I shall tire of watching 
 for the opportunity? — I will watch through this very night 
 You shall go to bed, and sleep securely, and I will keep 
 your lamp. And to-morrow we will arrange something. 
 
THE STEADFAST. 69 
 
 Why should I not have a room,— a cottage built at the end 
 of yours ? I will." 
 
 "If you could find anyone to build it," suggested the 
 widow. 
 
 " Somebody built Macdonald's, I suppose. And yours." 
 
 "Macdonald's is very old; — built, it is thought, at the 
 same time with the chapel, which has been in ruins these 
 hundred years. My husband built ours, — with me to help 
 him j and also his brother, who died before it was finished." 
 
 "Where is your son?" inquired the lady. "If he will 
 undertake to work for me, I will get it done. Where is 
 your son ? And what is his business ? " 
 
 " I do not know exactly where he is." 
 
 " Well, but is he on the island ? " 
 
 "I believe so. He comes and goes according to his 
 business. In the early summer he seeks eggs all over the 
 island ; and, somewhat later, the eider-down. When he 
 can get nothing better he brings the birds themselves." 
 
 " What do you do with them ? " 
 
 " We keep the feathers, and also the skins. The skins 
 are warm to cover the feet with, when made into socks. If 
 the birds are not very old, we salt them for winter food : 
 and at worst, I get some oil from them. But I get most oil 
 from the young seals, and from the livers of the fish he 
 catches at times." 
 
 " Fish ! then he has a boat ! Does he go out in a boat to 
 fish ? •■' 
 
70 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 " I can hardly say that he has a boat," replied the mother, 
 with an extraordinary calmness of manner that told of 
 internal effort. " Our caverns run very deep into the rocks ; 
 and the ledges run out far into the sea. Rollo has made a 
 kind of raft of the drift-wood he found : and on this he 
 crosses the water in the caverns, and passes from ledge to 
 ledge, fishing as he goes. This is our only way of getting 
 fish, except when a chance boat comes into the harbour." 
 
 " Could that raft go out on a calm day, — on a very smooth 
 sea, — to meet any boat at a distance ? " 
 
 " Impossible ! madam. I think it too dangerous in our 
 smallest coves to be used without sin. It is against my 
 judgment that Rollo ever goes round the end of a ledge, 
 which he has been seen to do." 
 
 " But it is impossible to get a boat ? Have you never 
 had a boat ? " 
 
 " We once had a boat, madam : and it was lost." 
 
 Even the selfish Lady Carse reproached herself for her 
 question. It struck her now that boat and husband had 
 been lost together ; for Macdonald had told her that Annie 
 Fleming had seen her husband drown. 
 
 " I wish I knew where Rollo is," she said to break the 
 silence. " I think something might be done. I think I 
 could find a way. Do not you wish you knew where he was ? " 
 
 " No, madam." 
 
 " Well ! perhaps you might be uneasy about him If you 
 did. But which way did he go?" 
 
THE STEADFAST. 71 
 
 The widow pointed northwards, where huge masses of 
 rock appeared tumbled one upon another, and into the sea, 
 at the base of a precipice two hundred feet high. She 
 further told, in reply to a question, that Rollo went forth 
 yesterday, without saying where he was going ; and there 
 were caves among the rocks she had pointed out, where 
 Rollo might possibly be fishing. 
 
 Lady Carse found it vexatious that darkness was coming 
 
 on. She had a purpose ; but the sun did not set the later, 
 
 ftor promise to rise the earlier, on that account. When the 
 
 widow set before her some oaten bread and dried fish, she 
 
 ate, without perceiving that none was left for her hostess. 
 
 And when the widow lighted the iron lamp and set it in the 
 
 window, the lady made only faint pretences of a wish to sit 
 
 up and watch it. She also said nothing of occupying the 
 
 meaner bed. She was persuaded that her first duty was to 
 
 obtain some good rest, preparatory to going forth to seek 
 
 Rollo, and induce him to take her on his raft to some place 
 
 whence she might escape to the mainland. So she lay 
 
 down on the widow's bed, and slept soundly, — her 
 
 hungry hostess silting by the smouldering peats in 
 
 the rude fireplace, — now and' then smiling at the 
 
 idea of her guest's late zeal about watching the lamp 
 
 for her, in order to give her a good night's rest. 
 
 When dayUght came, she retired to her son's bed, and had 
 
 just dropped asleep when Lady Carse roused her to ask for 
 
 Some breakfast to take with her, as she did not know when 
 
72 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 she should be back from her expedition. Again the widow 
 smiled as she said there was nothing in the house. At this 
 time of the year there were no stores ; and a good appetite 
 at night left nothing for the morning. 
 
 " O dear 1 " said the lady. " Well : I daresay your sitting 
 up made you hungry enough to finish everything while I 
 was asleep. No doubt it must. But what to do I know 
 not. I will not go back to Macdonald's, if I starve for it. 
 Perhaps I may meet some fishermen, or somebody. I will 
 try. — Good morning. I shall come back : but I will not 
 put you long out of your ways. I will get a cottage built 
 at the end of yours as soon as possible." The door closed 
 behind her, and once more the widow smiled, as she 
 composed herself to rest on her own bed. She had already 
 returned thanks for the blessings with which the new day 
 had opened ; and especially that to one so lowly as herself 
 was permitted the honour and privilege — so unlocked for 
 and unthought of— of dispensing hospitality. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE ROVING OF THE RESTLESS. 
 
 The lady began walking at a great rate, being in a vast 
 
 hurry to find Rollo. She descended to the shore, knowing 
 
 that if she kept on the heights she should arrive at the 
 
 precipices which would forbid all access to the caves below. 
 
 The tide was going down ; and as soon as she reached the 
 
 sands of a little cove she was pleased to see a good many 
 
 shell fish. Her first thought was that she would collect 
 
 some and carry them up for Annie Fleming's breakfast; but 
 
 she immediately remembered that this would add to her 
 
 fatigues, and consume her precious time ; and she gave up 
 
 the thought, and began picking up cockles for herself — 
 
 large blue cockles, which she thought would afford her an 
 
 excellent breakfast, if only she could meet with some fresh 
 
 bread and butter in some nook in the island. She turned 
 
 up her skirt — the skirt of the country woman's gown which 
 
 she wore — and made a bag of it for her cockles, rejoicing 
 
 for the moment that it was not one of her own silks. Then 
 
 she remembered that she had seen at the widow's a light 
 
 and strong frail basket, made of the sea-bent which grew in 
 
 the sands. This basket would be useful to her: so she 
 
 would, after all, go up — carry some cockles for Annie, and 
 
 73 6 
 
74 
 
 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 borrow the basket. She did so, and came away again 
 without awakening the widow. 
 
 At first, Lady Carse thought that Annie was right, and 
 that the island was not so dreary after al]. The morning 
 breeze was fresh and strengthening ; the waves ran up gaily 
 
 BEGAN PICKING UP COCKLES. 
 
 upon the sands, and leaped against the projecting rocks, 
 and fell back with a merry splash. And the precipices were 
 so fine, she longed for her sketch-book ; and the romance of 
 her youth began to revive within her. Here was a whole 
 day for roving. She would somehow make a fire in a cave, 
 and cook for herself. She was sure she could live among 
 
THE ROVING OF THE RESTLESS. 75 
 
 these caves ; and if she was missing for a considerable time, 
 the Macdonalds would think she had escaped, or was 
 drowned ; and she could slip away at last, when some vessel 
 put into the harbour. She stopped and looked round ; but 
 on all the vast stretch of waters there was no vessel to be 
 seen but the sloop in the harbour ; while on shore there was 
 no human being visible, nor any trace of habitation. The 
 solitude rather pressed on her heart ; but she hastened on, 
 and rounded the point which would sliut out from her the 
 land view, and prevent her being seen by any one from 
 Macdonald's. She had no fear of her return being cut off 
 by the tide. She had the whole day before her, and could 
 climb the rocks to a safe height at any time. 
 
 These were caves indeed ! At sight of them her heart 
 was in a sort of tumult very different from any it had ex- 
 perienced for long. She eagerly entered the first, and drew 
 deep breath as the thunder of the waters and the echoes 
 together almost confounded her senses. At the lowest tides 
 there was some depth of water below, in a winding central 
 channel. In the evening how black that channel must be ! 
 how solemn the whole place ! Now the low sun was shining 
 in, lighting up every point, and disclosing all the hollows, 
 and just catching a ripple now and then, which, in its turn, 
 made a ripple of light on the roof; and, far in, there was an 
 opening— a gaping chink in the side of the cave — which 
 gave admission to a second rocky chamber. 
 
 Lady Carse was bent on reaching this opening ; and did 
 
 6 — 2 
 
76 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 so, at last. She could not cross the clear deep water in the 
 channel below her. It was just too wide for a safe leap. 
 But she found a footing over the rocks which confined it ; 
 and on she went — now ascending, now descending almost to 
 the water — amidst dancing lights and rising and falling 
 echoes; on she went, her heart throbbing, her spirits 
 cheered — her whole soul full of a joy which she had not 
 experienced for long. She stepped over the little chasm to 
 which the waters narrowed at last, and, reaching the opening 
 thrust herself through it. 
 
 She seemed to have left light and sound behind her. 
 Dim, cool, and almost silent was the cavern she now stood 
 in. Its floor was thickly strewn with fine sand, conveying 
 the sensation that her own footsteps were not to be heard. 
 Black pillars of rock rose from a still pool which lay in her 
 way, and which she perceived only just in time to prevent 
 her stepping into it. These pillars and other dark masses 
 of rock sprang up and up till her eye lost them in the dark- 
 ness ; and if there was a roof, she could not see it. A drip 
 from above made a plash about once in a minute in the 
 pool; and the murmur from without was so subdued — 
 appeared to be so swallowed up in vastness and gloom — 
 that the minute drop was loud in comparison. Lady Carse 
 lay down on the soft sand, to rest, and listen, and think — 
 to ponder plans of hiding and escape. All her meditations 
 brought her round to the same point : that three things 
 were necessary to any plan of escape — a supply of food, a 
 
THE ROVING OF THE RESTLESS. 77 
 
 boat, and an accomplice. She arose, chilled and hungry, 
 determined to try whetlier she could not meet with one or 
 all of these this very day. 
 
 As she slo'.vly proceeded round the pool, she became 
 aware that it was not so perfectly still as hitherto; and a 
 gurgle of waters grew upon the ear. It was only that the 
 tide was coming up, and that the pool was being fed by such 
 influx as could take place through a few crannies. She 
 perceived that these crannies had let in a glimmering of 
 light which was now sensibly darkened. She had no fear — 
 only the delicious awe which thrills through the spirit on its 
 admission to the extreme privacies of nature. There was 
 some light, and safe opportunity of return by the way she 
 had come. She would not go back till she had tried 
 whether she could get on. 
 
 On she went — more than once in almost total darkness — 
 more than once slipping on a piece of wet and weedy rock 
 where she expected to tread on thick sand — more than 
 once growing irritable at litde difficulties, as hungry people 
 of better tempers than hers are apt to do in strange places. 
 A surprise awaited her at last. She had fancied she per. 
 ceived a glimmer of light before her; and she suddenly 
 found herself at the top of a steep bank of sand, at the 
 bottom of which there was an opening — a very low arch — 
 to the outer air. While she was sliding down this bank, she 
 heard a voice outside. She was certain of it. Presently 
 there was a laugh, and the voice again. If she had found 
 
78 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 Rollo, there was somebody else too ; and if RoUo was not 
 here, there was the more to hope something from. 
 
 Now the question was whether she could get through the 
 arch. She pushed her basket through first, and then her 
 own head ; and she saw what made her lie still for some 
 little time. The arch opened upon a ccve, deep and 
 narrow, between projecting rocks. A small raft rose and 
 fell on the surface of the water; and on the raft stood 
 a man, steading himself with his legs wide apart, while he 
 held a rope with both hands, and gazed intently upwards. 
 The raft was in a manner anchored ; tied with ropes to 
 masses of rock on each side of the cove; but it still 
 pitched so much that Lady Carse thought the situation of 
 the man very perilous : and she, therefore, made no noise, 
 lest she should startle him. She little dreamed how safe 
 was his situation compared with that of the comrade he was 
 watching. 
 
 In a short time the man changed his occupation. He 
 relaxed his hold of the rope, fastened it to a corner of 
 the raft, gazed about him like a man of leisure, and then 
 once more looked upwards, holding out his arms as if to 
 catch something good. And immediately a shower of sea- 
 birds began to fall : now one, now three, now one again ; 
 down they came, head foremost, dead as a stone. Two fell 
 into the water; but he fished them up with a stick with 
 a noose of hair at the end, and flung them on the heap 
 in the middle of the raft. 
 
THE ROVING OF THE RESTLESS. 79 
 
 When the shower began to slacken, Lady Carse thought 
 it the time to make herself heard. She put her head and 
 shoulders through the low arch, and asked the man if he 
 thought she could get through. His start at the voice, his 
 bewildered look down the face of the rock, and the scared 
 expression of his countenance when he discovered the face 
 that peeped out at the bottom, amused Lady Carse 
 extremely. She did not remember how unlike her fair com- 
 plexion and her hair were to those of the women of these 
 islands, nor that a stranger was in this place more rare than 
 a ghost. And as foi: the man — what could he suppose but 
 that the handsome face that he saw peeping out, laughing, 
 from the base of the precipice, was that of some rock spirit, 
 sent perhaps for mischief? However, in course of time the 
 parties came to an explanation ; that is, of all that the lady 
 said, the man caught one word — Macdonald; and he saw 
 that she had a basket of cockles, and knew the basket to be 
 of island manufacture. Moreover he found, when he ven- 
 tured to help her out, that her hand was of flesh and blood, 
 though he had never before seen one so slender and white. 
 
 When she stood upright on the margin of the creek, what 
 a scene it was ! Clear as the undulating waters were, no 
 bottom was visible. Their darkness and depth sent a chill 
 through her frame. Overhead the projecting rocks nearly 
 shut out the sky, while the little strip that remained was 
 darkened by a cloud of fluttering and screaming sea birds. 
 The cause of their commotion was pointed out to her. A 
 
8o THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 man, whom she could scarcely have distinguished but for 
 the red cap on his head, was on the face of the precipice ; 
 now appearing still, now moving, she could not tell how, for 
 the rock appeared to her as smooth up there as the wall of 
 a house. But it was not so — there were ledges ; and on 
 one of these he stood, plundering the nests of the sea fowl, 
 which were screaming round his head. 
 
 " Rollo ? " the lady asked, as she turned away, her brain 
 reeling at the sight she had seen. 
 
 "Rollo," replied the man, now entirely satisfied. No 
 spirit would want to be told who anyone was. 
 
 And now Rollo was to descend. His comrade again 
 stepped upon the raft, pushed out to the middle of the 
 channel, secured the raft, grasped the rope, and steadied 
 himself. Lady Carse thought she could not look; but she 
 glanced up now and then, when there was a call from 
 above, or a question from below, or when there was a fling 
 of the rope or a pause in the proceedings. When Rollo at 
 last slid down upon the raft, hauled it to shore, and jumped 
 on the rock beside her, he was as careless as a hedger 
 coming home to breakfast, while she was trembling in every 
 limb. 
 
 And Rollo was thinking more of his breakfast than of 
 the way he had earned it, or of the presence of a stranger. 
 He was a stout, and now hungry, lad of eighteen, to whom 
 any precipice was no more startling than a ladder is to a 
 builder. And, as his mother had taught him to speak 
 
THE ROVING OF THE RESTLESS. 8i 
 
 English, and he had on that account been employed to 
 communicate with such strangers as had now and then 
 come to the island during Macdonald's absence, he was 
 little embarrassed by the apparition of the lady. He was 
 chiefly occupied with his pouchful of eggs, there being more 
 than he had expected to find so late in the season. It was 
 all very well, he said, for their provision to-day ; but it was 
 a sign that somebody knew this cove as well as themselves, 
 and that it was no longer a property to himself and his 
 comrade. 
 
 " How so ? " inquired the lady. " How can you possibly 
 tell by the eggs that anyone has been here ? " 
 
 RoUo glanced at his comrade, in a sort of droll assurance 
 that it could be no voice from the grave, no ghostly 
 inhabitant of a cave, who could require to have such a 
 matter explained. He then condescendingly told her that 
 when the eggs of the eider-duck are taken she lays more ; 
 and this twice over, before giving up in despair. Of course, 
 this puts off the season of hatching; and when, therefore, 
 eggs are found fresh so late in the season, it is pretty plain 
 that someone has been there to take those earlier laid. 
 Rollo seemed pleased that the lady could comprehend this 
 when it was explained to her. He gave her an encouraging 
 nod, and began to scramble onward over the rocks, his 
 companion being already some paces in advance of him. 
 The lady followed with her basket as well as she could; 
 but she soon found herself alone, and in not the most 
 
82 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 amiable mood at being thus neglected. She had not yet 
 learned that she was in a place where women are accus- 
 tomed to shift for themselves, and precedence is not thought 
 of, except by the fireside, with aged people or a minister of 
 the Gospel in presence. 
 
 She smoothed her brow, however, when she regained 
 sight of the young men. They were on their knees in the 
 entrance of a cavern, carefully managing a smouldering peat 
 so as to obtain a fire. It was tickUsh work; for the peat 
 had been left to itself rather too long; and chips and 
 shavings were things never seen in these parts. A wisp 
 of dry grass, or a few fibres of heather, were made to serve 
 instead; and it was not easy to create with these heat 
 enough to kindle fresh peats. At last, however, it was 
 done ; and eggs were poked in, here and there, to roast. 
 The cockles must be roasted, too; and two or three little 
 mouse-coloured birds, the young of the eider-duck, were 
 broiled as soon as plucked. So much for the eating. As 
 for the drinking, there was nothing but pure whisky, unless 
 the lady could drink sea-water. Thirsty as she was she 
 thought of the drip in the cave ; but, besides that it was 
 far to go, and scanty when obtained, she remembered all 
 the slime she had seen, and she did not know whence that 
 drip came. So she gulped down two or three mouthfuls of 
 whisky, and was surprised to find how little she disliked it, 
 and how well it agreed with her after her walk. 
 
 As soon as Rollo could attend to her, she told him where 
 
THE ROVING OF THE RESTLESS. 83 
 
 she had spent the night — how she had resolved to hve with 
 his mother, and in sight of the harbour — and how she 
 wanted two or more rooms built for her at the end of the 
 widow's cottage, unless, indeed, she could get a boat built 
 instead, to take her over to the main, for which she would 
 engage to pay hereafter whatever should be asked. Rollo 
 told his companion this ; and they both laughed so at the 
 idea of the boat, that the lady rose in great anger, and 
 walked away. Rollo attended her, and pointed to his raft' 
 saying that there was no other such craft as even that in the 
 . island ; and people did not think of boats, even in their 
 dreams, though he could fancy that any lady in the south 
 might, for he had heard that boats were common in the 
 south. But, he went on to say, if she could not have a 
 boat, she might have a house. 
 
 "Will you help to build it?" asked the lady. "Will 
 your companion — will all the people you know — help me to 
 build it?" 
 
 "Why, yes," Rollo replied. "We shall have to build 
 some sort of a cottage for the minister that is coming— for 
 
 the minister and his wife ; and we may as well " 
 
 " Minister ! Is there a minister coming ? " cried the lady. 
 
 "O thank God, whose servant he is! Thank God for 
 
 sending me deliverance, as He surely will by these means ! " 
 
 She had sunk on her knees. Rollo patted her on the 
 
 shoulder and said the folk were certainly coming. 
 
 What to make of Rollo she did not know. He treated 
 
84 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 her as if she were a child. He used a coaxing way of 
 talking, explained to her the plainest things before her eyes, 
 and patted her on the shoulder. She drew away, looking 
 very haughtily at him, but he only nodded. 
 
 "Why was I not told before that the minister and his 
 wife were coming? Macdonald did not tell me. Your 
 mother did not tell me." 
 
 "They do not know it yet. They seldom know things 
 till I tell them ;- and I did not want to be kept at home to 
 build a house till I had got some business of my own done." 
 He would not tell how he had obtained his information ; 
 but explained that it was the custom for a minister to live 
 for some time on each of the outlying islands, where there 
 were too few people to retain a constant pastor. This 
 island was too little inhabited to have had a minister on its 
 shores since the chapel had gone to ruin, a hundred years 
 before — but the time was at hand at last. There had been 
 a disappointment in some arrangements in the nearest 
 neighbour islet ; and Mr. Ruthven and his wife were ap- 
 pointed to reside here for a year or more, as might appear 
 desirable. Rollo considered this great news. Children and 
 betrothed persons would be brought hither to be baptized 
 and married — arriving perhaps more than once in the course 
 of the year ; and it would be strange if the minister were 
 not, in that time, to be sent for in a boat to bury somebody. 
 Or, perhaps, a funeral or two might come to the old chapel. 
 Some traffic there must be ; and that would make it a great 
 
THE ROVING OF THE RESTLESS. 85 
 
 year for Rollo. And, to begin with, there would be the 
 house to build ; and he might be sent for materials. He 
 should like that, though he did not much fancy the trouble 
 of the building. 
 
 After a moment's thought the lady asked him if he could 
 not keep the secret of the minister's coming till the last 
 possible hour. She would reward him well if he would get 
 the house built as for her. Seeing how precious was the 
 opportunity, she gave Rollo her confidence, showed him 
 how it would tend to satisfy Macdonald if she appeared to 
 be settling herself quietly in the island ; whereas, if he knew 
 of the approach of vessels with strangers, he would probably 
 imprison her, or carry her away to some yet wilder and 
 more remote speck in the ocean.. Rollo saw something of 
 her reasons, and said patronizingly, 
 
 " Why, you talk like an island woman now. You might 
 almost have lived here, by the way you understand things." 
 
 Yet better did he apprehend her promises of vast rewards, 
 if he would do exactly as she wished. There was an air 
 about her which enabled him to fancy her some queen or 
 other powerful personage ; and as it happened to suit him to 
 keep the secret till the last moment, he promised, for him 
 self and his comrade, to be discreet, and obey orders. 
 
 This settled, the lady turned homewards, with a basket 
 full of eggs, and fish, and young birds, and news for the 
 widow that her son was safe, and not far off, and about to 
 come home to try his hand at building a house. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 
 
 The house proceeded well. Macdonald had no express 
 
 orders about it; but he had express orders to keep Lady 
 
 Carse on the island, and, if possible, in a quiet and orderly 
 
 state of manners. When he saw how completely engrossed 
 
 she was in the building of this dwelling, and what a close 
 
 friendship she appeared to have formed with Annie Fleming, 
 
 he believed that she was a woman of a giddy mind and 
 
 strong self-will, who might be managed by humouring. If 
 
 he could assist her in providing herself with a succession 
 
 of new objects, he hoped that she might be kept from 
 
 mischief and misery, as a child is by a change of toys. He 
 
 would try this method, and trust to his chief's repaying him 
 
 any expenses incurred for the strange lady's sake. So he 
 
 granted the use of his ponies and his people, — now a man 
 
 or two, — and now their wives, to bring stones and earth and 
 
 turf, and to twist heather bands. Once or twice he earner 
 
 himself, and lent a strong hand to raise a corner-stone, and 
 
 help to lay the hearthstone. The house consisted of two 
 
 rooms, divided by a passage. If Lady Carse had chosen 
 
 to admit the idea of remaining after the arrival of the 
 
 Ruthvens, she would have added a third room ; but she had 
 
 resolved that she would leave the island in the vessel which 
 
 86 
 
THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 87 
 
 brought them, or in the next that their arrival would bring : 
 and she would not dwell for an instant on any doubt of 
 accomplishing her purpose. 
 
 So the thick walls rose, and the low roof was on, and the 
 thatch well bound down, and secured moreover with heavy 
 stones, before the autumn storms arrived. And before the 
 hard rains came down, all Macdonald's ponies were one 
 evening seen approaching in a string, laden with peat — a 
 present to the lady. In the course of the day there was 
 stacked, at the end of her cottage, enough to last for some 
 months. When the widow came out to see it and wish her 
 joy — for a good stack of well dried peat was the richest of 
 all possessions in that region — the lady smiled as cheerfully 
 as Annie ; not at the peat, however, but at the thought that 
 she should see little or none of it burn. She intended to 
 dispose of her winter evenings far otherwise. 
 
 As for the widow, she was thankful now that she had 
 never thought her situation dreary. If, in her former soli- 
 tude, when her boy was absent, she had murmured at that 
 solitude, her present feelings would have been a rebuke to 
 her. She was not happy now; so far from it, that her 
 former life appeared, in comparison with it, as happy as she 
 could desire. Perhaps it had been too peaceful, she 
 thought, and she might need some exercise of patience. It 
 was a great advantage, certainly, for both herself and RoUo 
 to hear the things the lady could tell of ways of living in 
 other places, and to learn such a variety of knowledge from 
 
88 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 a person so much better informed than themselves. But 
 then this knowledge appeared to be all so unsanctified ! 
 It did not make the poor lady herself strong in heart and 
 peaceful in spirit. It was wonderful, and very stirring to 
 the mind, to learn how wise people were who lived in cities, 
 and what great ability was required to conduct the affairs of 
 life where men were gathered together in numbers; but 
 then these wonders did not seem to impress those who 
 lived in the midst of them. There was no sign that they 
 were watching and praising God's hand working among the 
 faculties of men, as more retired people do in much meaner 
 things — in the warmth which the eider duck gives to her 
 eggs by wrapping them in down from her own breast, and 
 the punctuality with which the herring shoals pass by in 
 May and October, making the sea glitter with life and light 
 as they go. She feared that when people lived out of sight 
 of green pastures and still waters — and she looked at the 
 moment upon the down on which the goats were browsing, 
 and the fresh water pool, where the dragon fly hovered for 
 a few hot days in summer — when men lived out of sight of 
 green pastures and still waters, she feared that they became 
 perplexed in a sort of Babel, where the call of the shepherd 
 was too gentle to be heard. At least, it appeared thus from 
 the effect upon Rollo of the lady's conversation. She had 
 always feared for him the effect of seeing the world, as she 
 remembered the world— of his seeing it before he had 
 better learned to see God everywhere, and to be humble 
 
THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 89 
 
 accordingly — and the conversation he now heard was to 
 him much like being on the mainland, and even in a town. 
 It had not made him more humble, or more kind, or more 
 helpful j except, indeed, to the lady — there was nothing he 
 would not do to help her. 
 
 And here Annie sighed and smiled at once, as the 
 thought struck her that while she was mourning over other 
 people's corruption she was herself not untouched. She 
 detected herself admitting some disHke to the lady because 
 she so occupied RoUo that he had left off supplying his 
 mother with fishes' livers and seal-fat for oil. The best 
 season had passed : — she had spoken to him several times 
 not to lose the six-weeks-old seals ; but he had not attended 
 to it ; and now her stock of oil was very low ; and the long 
 winter nights were before her. She must speak to Mac- 
 donald to procure her some oil. But very strictly must she 
 speak to herself about this new trouble of discontent. Did 
 she not know that He who appointed her dwelling-place on 
 that height, and who marked her for her life's task by that 
 touch on her heart-strings the night she saw her husband 
 drown, would supply the means ? If her light was to be set 
 ■on the hill for men to see from the tossing billows and be 
 saved, it would be taken care of that, as of old, the widow's 
 cruise of oil did not fail. What she had to look to was that 
 the lamp of her soul did not grow dim and go out. How 
 lately was she thanking God for the new opportunities afforded 
 her by the arrival of this stranger ! and now she was 
 
 1 
 
90 THE BILLO W AND THE ROCK. 
 
 shrinking from these very opportunities, and finding fault 
 with everybody before herself! 
 
 There was some little truth in this, and it was very 
 natural ; for this kind of trial was new to Annie. But she 
 never yielded to it again — not even when the trial was such 
 as few would have been able to bear. 
 
 As the dark blustering month of November advanced, 
 the widow's rheumatism came on more severely than ever 
 before. She had given up her bed to Lady Carse, and 
 when Rollo was at home, slept on the floor, on some ashes 
 covered with a blanket ; the only" materials for a bed which 
 she had been able to command, as Rollo had been too 
 busy to get seal-skins, or go to any distance for heather 
 while it was soft. She had caught cold repeatedly, and was 
 likely to have a bad winter with her rheumatism, however 
 soon the lady might get into her own house and yield up 
 the widow's bed. One gusty afternoon, when the wet fogs 
 were driving past, Annie waited long for the lady and Rollo 
 to come in to the evening meal. She could not think what 
 detained them next door in such weather; for it was no 
 weather for working — besides that, it was getting dark. She 
 could not, with her stiff and painful limbs, go out of doors ; 
 and when she perceived that her smallest lamp was gone, 
 she satisfied herself that they had some particular work to 
 finish for which they needed light, and would come in when 
 it was done. 
 
 But it grew dark, and the wind continued to rise, and 
 
THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 
 
 91 
 
 they did not appear. They did not mean to appear this 
 night. Macdonald had been informed, at last, from his 
 chief, of the intended arrival of the minister and his lady ; 
 had been very angry at the long concealment of the news. 
 
 SITTING AT SUPPER OVER A GOOD FIRE. 
 
 and would now, Lady Carse apprehended, keep a careful 
 
 watch over her, and probably confine her till the expected 
 
 boats had come and gone. So she and her accomplices 
 
 at once repaired to the cave — a cave which Rollo was sure 
 
 '7—2 
 
92 THE BILLO W AND THE ROCK. 
 
 none of Macdonald's people had discovered — where for 
 some time past Rollo and his comrade had stored dried 
 fish, such small parcels of oatmeal as they could obtain, and 
 plenty of peat for fuel. There they were now sitting at 
 supper over a good fire, kindled in a deep sand, which 
 would afford a warm and soft bed — they were at supper 
 while the widow was waiting for them in pain and anxiety — 
 and, at last, in cold and dreariness. 
 
 When the fire was low, she rose painfully from her seat, 
 to feed it, and to trim and light the lamp. Alas ! there 
 were no peats in the corner. She knew there were plenty at 
 mid-day : but Lady Carse had, at the last moment, bethought 
 herself that the fuel in the cave might be damp, and had 
 carried off those in the corner, desiring Rollo to bring in 
 more from the stack to dry ; and this Rollo had neglected 
 to do. The fire would be quite out in an hour. Annie saw 
 that she must attempt to get out to the stack. She did 
 attempt it; but the stormy blast and the thick cold drizzle 
 so drove against her that she could not stand it, and could 
 only with difliiculty shut the door. She turned to her lamp, 
 to light it while the fire was yet alive. There was but Httle 
 oil in it. She reached out her hand for the oil can. It was 
 not there. Rollo had considered that the lady would want 
 light in the cave ; Lady Carse had considered that the widow 
 might for one night make a good fire serve her purposes ; 
 and so the oil can was gone to the same place with the peats, 
 
 Annie sank down on her seat, almost subdued. Not 
 
THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 
 
 93 
 
 quite subdued, however, even by this threat of the baffling 
 of the great object of her life. Not quite subdued, for her 
 heart and her ear were yet (5pen to the voices of nature. 
 
 SHE LIGHTED THE LAMP WITH DIFFICULTY. 
 
 The scream of a sea-bird reached her, as the creature was 
 swept by on the blast. 
 
 " That is for me," she said to herself, the blood returning 
 to her stricken heart and pale cheek. " How God sends 
 His creatures to teach us at the moment when we need His 
 
94 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 voice ! I have seen the cormorant sitting in his hole in 
 wintry weather, — sitting there for days together, hungry and 
 cold, trying now and then to* get out, and driven back by 
 such a blast as he cannot meet, — by such a blast as this. 
 And then he sits on patiently, and moves no more till the 
 wind lulls and the sky clears. And if his wing is weak at 
 first it soon strengthens. The blast drives me back to. 
 night; but I, who have thoughts to rest upon, may well 
 bear what a winged creature can. That screamer was sent 
 to me. I wonder what has become of it. I hope it is not 
 swept quite away." 
 
 But it would not do to sit thinking while the fire was just 
 out, and the lamp likely to burn only an hour. She lighted 
 the lamp with difficulty, — with a beating heart and trembling 
 hands, lest the last available spark should go out first. But 
 the wick caught ; and the lamp was placed in the window, 
 sending, as it seemed to Annie, a gleam through the night 
 of her own mind, as well as through that of the stormy air. 
 It quickened her invention and her hopes. 
 
 "There is an hour yet," thought she. " I am sure it will 
 burn an hour ; and something may be sent by that time.'' 
 
 She took off her cotton handkerchief, tore off the hem, 
 and ravelled out the cotton as quickly as she could, and 
 twisted it into a wick which she thought she could fix by a 
 skewer across a tin cup from which Rollo drank his whisky 
 when at home. She brought down from the chimney and 
 looked over rapidly all the oily parts of the fish, and every 
 
THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 95 
 
 fatty portion of the dried meat hung up in the smoke for 
 winter use ; and these she made a desperate endeavour to 
 melt in the flames of her lamp. She wrung out a few drops, 
 — barely enough to soak her wick. This would not burn 
 five minutes. She persevered to the last moment, — saying 
 to herself, 
 
 "Not once for these seventeen years since I saw my 
 husband drown, has there been a dark night between this 
 window and the sea. Not once has my spark been put out : 
 and I will not think it now. God can kindle fire where He 
 pleases. I have heard tell that people in foreign countries 
 have seen a lightning-shaft dart down into a forest, and 
 make a tree blaze up like a torch. God has His own ways." 
 
 All the while her hands wrought so busily that she scarcely 
 felt their aching in the cold of the night. But now her new 
 wick was wanted, for the old was going out. It blazed up, 
 but she saw it must soon be gone. She broke up her old 
 stool, all shattered as it was already. Some splinters she 
 stuck one after another into the lamp ; and then she burned 
 the larger pieces in the hearth, saying to herself incessantly, 
 as if for support, " God has His own ways." 
 
 But the rising and falling flame became more and more 
 uncertain; and at last, very suddenly, it went quite out. 
 There was not, in another minute, a spark left. 
 
 For a while there was silence in the cottage, now dark for 
 the first time since Annie was a widow. She crept to her 
 cold bed ; and there, under cover of the strange darkness 
 
96 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 she shed a few tears. But soon she said to herself, " God 
 has His own ways of kindling our spirits as well as the flame 
 of a lamp. Perhaps by humbling me, or by changing my 
 duty when I became too fond of it, He may warm my heart 
 to new trust in Him. His will be done ! But He will let me 
 pray that there may be none in the harbour this night who 
 may drown, or be buffeted in the storm because He is 
 pleased to darken my light." 
 
 Before she had quite calmed her heart with this prayer, 
 there was noise at a little distance, and red gleams on the 
 fitful mist which drove past the window ; and then followed 
 a loud knocking at the door. 
 
 It was Macdonald with his people, come to see whether 
 the lady was safe. He looked perplexed and uneasy when 
 Aimie told him that she could not think that the lady could 
 be othenvise than safe, now she knew the places about the 
 island so well, and was so fearless. It often happened that 
 she was absent for a night and day ; and no doubt the storm 
 had this night detained her and her companions in some 
 sheltered place, — some place where, she had reason to 
 believe, they had fire and light. As for herself, when Annie 
 saw the torch that Macdonald carried, her eyes glistened 
 in the blaze, and she said once more in the depth of her 
 mind, 
 
 " Surely God has His own ways." 
 
 Macdonald was very wrathful when he learned by ques- 
 tioning Annie how it was that her house was dark. As he 
 
THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 97 
 
 hastily kindled the peats he brought in from the stack, he 
 muttered that it seemed to have pleased God to afflict the 
 island again with a witch, after all the pains that were taken 
 twenty years before, as he well remembered, to clear the 
 place of one. This woman must be a witch 
 
 " Nay," said Annie, " I take her to be sent to us for 
 good. Let us wait and learn." 
 
 "Good? What good?" 
 
 "It is through her, you see, that I find how kind a 
 neighbour you are, at need," replied Annie; not adding 
 aloud what she was thinking of, — how this night had proved 
 that God brings help at the least likely moments. 
 
 "She is a witch," Macdonald persisted, "No power 
 short of that could have quenched your lamp, and drawn 
 away your only son from honouring his parent to be a slave 
 to a stranger.'' 
 
 As Annie could not at the moment speak, Macdonald 
 went on raising a flame meantime by flapping the end of his 
 plaid. 
 
 " It is the chapel, I know. Things have never gone well 
 for any length of time here since the chapel fell completely 
 down, and the bleat of the kid came out from where the 
 psalm ought to sound. We must apply ourselves to build 
 up the chapel ; and, as there is a minister coming, we may 
 hope to be released from witches and every kind of curse." 
 
 "There will be little room for any kind of curse," thought 
 Annie, "when the minister has taught us to 'be kindly 
 
gS THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 affectioned one to another,' and not to make our little island 
 more stormy with passions than it ever is with tempests of 
 wind and hail." 
 
 " There, now, there is a good fire for you," said 
 Macdonald, rising from his knees; "and I won't ask you, 
 Annie, what was in your mind as the blaze made your eyes 
 shine. I won't ask you, because you might tell me that I 
 am in need of the minister, to make me merciful to a 
 banished lady. Ah, your smile shows that that is what you 
 were thinking of. But I can tell you this : she is a wicked 
 woman. Her father committed murder, and she is quite 
 able and willing to do the same thing. So I must go and 
 find her, and take care that her foot is set in no boat but 
 mine.'' 
 
 « Yours ? " 
 
 " Yes. I must carry her out of the way of all boats but 
 mine. This island was chosen for such a purpose, and 
 now " 
 
 " And now," said Annie, " if the lady is afflicted with such 
 hardness of heart, is it not cruel to take her away from God's 
 word and worship, just when there is a minister coming? 
 Oh, Macdonald ! what would you do to one who should 
 carry away your poor sick little Malcolm to St. Kilda, just 
 when your watching eye caught sight of an eastward sail, 
 and you knew it was the physician coming ; sent, moreover, 
 for Malcolm's sake? What would you think then, Mac- 
 donald?" 
 
THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 
 
 99 
 
 " I should think that if Sir Alexander was in it there 
 could be nothing done, and there ought to be nothing said. 
 And Sir Alexander is in this, so I must go." 
 
 While Macdonald and his people were beating about 
 among the caves, as morning drew on. Lady Carse and 
 Rollo slipped up to the house, partly to secure a few 
 more comforts that they had a mind for, and partly to 
 obtain a wide view over the sea, and a certainty whether 
 any boats were in sight. 
 
 " Have you brought up my oil can, Rollo ? " asked his 
 mother. " If not, you must go for it, and never again touch 
 it without my leave." 
 
 "I took it," said Lady Carse; "and I cannot spare it." 
 
 "It cannot be spared from this room, my lady. It 
 never left this room before but by my order, and it never 
 must again." 
 
 " It shall never leave the place where it now is," declared 
 Lady Carse, reddening. " I threw myself on your hospi- 
 tality, and you grudge me light in the night. You, who are 
 housed in a cottage of your own, with a fire, and everything 
 comfortable about you — that is, every comfort that a poor 
 woman like you knows how to value. You think yourself 
 very religious, I am aware, and I rather believe you think 
 yourself charitable, too ; and you grudge me your oil can, 
 when there is no one thing on earth you can do for me but 
 lend it." 
 
 " Your way of thinking is natural, my lady, till you 
 
loo THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 better know me and my duty. But to-day I must say that 
 the oil can is mine, and I cannot lend it. You will please 
 desire Rollo to bring it to me." 
 
 " I know well enough about you and your duty, as you 
 call it. I know your particularity about a fancy of your 
 own. I know well enough how obstinate you are about it, 
 and how selfish, that you would sacrifice me to your whim 
 about your duty, and your husband, and all that set of 
 notions. And I know more. I know what it is to have a 
 husband, and that you ought to be thankful that yours was 
 gone before he could play the tyrant over you. You pre- 
 tend to speak with authority because this cottage is yours, 
 and your precious oil can, and your rotten old bedstead. 
 But, besides that, I can teach )'0u many things. You may 
 be assured I can pay you for more oil than I shall burn to 
 the end of ray days, and for more sleeps than I hope ever to 
 have on your old bed. You need not fear but that I shall 
 pay for everything — pay more money than you ever saw in 
 your life." 
 
 " Money will not do, madam. I must have my oil can. 
 Rollo will fetch it. And you will lie down, my lady — lie 
 down and rest on my old bed, without thinking of money, 
 or of anything but ease to your head and your weary heart, 
 Lie down in safety here, madam, for your head and your 
 heart are aching sadly." 
 
 "What do you know about my head and heart 
 aching?" 
 
THE WAITING OF THE WISE. loi 
 
 "By more signs than one. When anyone is hunted like 
 the deer upon the hills " 
 
 Lady Carse groaned, 
 
 " That is only for a while, however," said Annie, tenderly. 
 " When there is peace of mind, there is no one to hunt us — 
 no one to hurt us. We abide here or anywhere j for the 
 shadow of the Almighty is everywhere. No one can hunt 
 us from it, nor hurt us within it. And I assure you, my 
 lady, this is the place of all places for peace of mind." 
 
 "I hurt you just now, however," said the lady; "and I 
 left you little peace of mind last night." 
 
 " If so, it must be my own fault," said Annie, cheerfully. 
 "But never mind that. I never have any troubles now 
 hardly; and you, madam, have so many, and such sad 
 ones." 
 
 " That is true," said Lady Carse, as burning tears forced 
 their way. " You never knew — you cannot conceive — such 
 misery as mine." 
 
 Annie kissed the hand which was wet with those scalding 
 tears, and laid her own hand on the ^head which was shaken 
 on the pillow with sobs. 
 
 After a time, the lady murmured out, 
 
 "This seems very childish: but it is so long — so long 
 since anyone — since I met with any tenderness — any affec- 
 tion from anyone ! " 
 
 "Is that it?" said the widow, cheerfully. "Well — this 
 is a poor place enough ; and we are no companions for any- 
 
I02 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 body beyond ourselves : but what you speak of is ours to 
 give. That you may always depend on here." 
 
 " In spite of anything I may say or do ? You see how 
 hasty I am at times. Will you love me and caress me, 
 through anything I may say or do ? " 
 
 "No doubt/' repHed Annie, smiling. "It will be the 
 happiest way if you constrain us to love and cherish you as 
 your due. But if not, these are charities that God has put 
 into every hand that is reached out to Him, that the very 
 humblest and poorest may have the best of alms to give." 
 
 "Alms !" sighed the lady. She shook off the kind hand 
 that was upon her aching brow, for the thought struck upon 
 her heart that she was a destitute beggar for those smallest 
 offices of kindness and courtesy which she had not affections 
 or temper to reciprocate or claim. 
 
 ^*Miic 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE COVE. 
 
 RoLLO brought word that Macdonald and his people had 
 left the eastern caves, and were now exploring the large 
 northern one called Asdrafil. It was time the lady was re- 
 turning to her hiding place. 
 
 " O dear ! " exclaimed she. " May I not rest under a roof 
 for one night? Will Macdonald come here again so soon?" 
 
 The widow had Uttle doubt he would. He would be pop- 
 ping in at all times of the day or night till he could learn 
 where his prisoner was. She could not advise the lady to 
 stay here, if she wished to remain on the island tUl the min- 
 ister came. 
 
 " I must," said Lady Carse. " But I dread that cave. I 
 hate it, with its echoes that startle one every moment, and 
 the rough walls that look so strangely in the red light of the 
 fire. I hate it. But," she continued impetuously, "no mat- 
 ter ! I hate this place " (looking round with disgust). " I 
 hate every place that I ever was in. I wish I was dead. I 
 wish I had never been born. Now don't look at me so 
 piteously. I won't be pitied. I can't bear to be pitied : 
 and do you think I will let you pity me ? No, indeed, I 
 may have my own troubles. God knows I have troubles 
 enough. But I would not change places with you — no, not 
 
 103 
 
I04 THE BILLO IV AND THE ROCK. 
 
 for all else that God or man could give me. Now what are 
 you smiling at ? Woman, do you mean to insult my mis- 
 fortunes ? I am brought low indeed, if I am to be smiled 
 at by a hag in a desert — I who once — O ! I see ; you don't 
 choose to yield me the small respect of listening to what I 
 say.'' 
 
 Annie was now looking round her cottage to see what she 
 could send down to render the lady more comfortable in 
 her retreat. She tried to absorb her own attention in this 
 business till Lady Carse should have exhausted her anger 
 and become silent. But Lady Carse once again seized the 
 oil can. 
 
 " Pardon me, madam," said Annie, " I cannot spare that, 
 as you know. Rollo is carrying some things that I hope 
 may make you comfortable. If you see anything else that 
 you wish for, you shall have it — anything but my lamp and 
 my oil." 
 
 " The oil is the only thing I want ; and a small matter it 
 is for me, who had dozens of wax-lights burning in my 
 house at Edinburgh, and will have dozens more before I 
 die." 
 
 " Your fire must serve you, madam. I give you what I 
 have to bestow. My light is not mine to give : it belongs 
 to wanderers on the sea. You cannot think, madam, of 
 taking what belongs, as I may say, neither to you nor me." 
 
 Lady Carse had that in her countenance at this moment 
 which alarmed the widow for her light ; and she therefore 
 
THE COVE. I OS 
 
 desired her son, with authority, to relieve the lady of the oil 
 can, and trim the lamp ready for night. 
 
 Lady Carse, setting her teeth, and looking as malicious as 
 an ill-bred cur, said that if the light belonged to nobody 
 here nobody else should have the benefit of it; and 
 attempted to empty the oil upon the hearth. This was 
 more than RoUo was disposed to permit. He seized her 
 arm with no gentle grasp, and saved all the oil but a few 
 drops, which blazed amongst the peats. He moreover told 
 the lady, with an air of superiority, that he had almost begun 
 to think she had as much wit as the islanders ; but that he 
 now saw his mistake ; and she must manage her own affairs. 
 He should stay with his mother to-night. 
 
 It was his mother who, rebuking his incivility, desired 
 him to attend upon the lady. It was his mother who, when 
 Lady Carse burst away from them and said she would be 
 followed by nobody, awoke in Rollo something of the 
 feeling which she herself entertained. 
 
 "Carry down these things,'' she said. " It is too true, as 
 she says, that every place is hateful to her ; and that is the 
 more reason why we should do what we can to make some 
 comfort in the place she is in." 
 
 " But she says such things to you, mother ! I don't want 
 to hear any more such things." 
 
 " When people are in torment, Rollo, they do not know 
 what they say. And she has much to torment her, poor 
 lady ! Now go; and let us try to hide her from Macdonald. 
 
 8 
 
io6 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 If she and the minister can have speech of each other, 
 I trust she may become more settled in mind. You know 
 God has made His creatures to differ one from another. 
 There are some that sit all the more still in storms ; and 
 there are others that are sadly bewildered in tempests : but, 
 if one ray of God's sun is sent to them, it is like a charm. 
 They stop and watch it ; and when it spreads about them, 
 it seems to change their nature : they He down and bask in 
 it, and find content. It may be so with this lady if the 
 minister gives her a gUmpse of light from above." 
 
 " She shall not be carried off, if David and I can hide 
 her," declared Rollo. " One of us must watch the Mac- 
 donalds, while the other entertains the lady." 
 
 " AVhile slie entertains you, you mean," said Annie, smil- 
 ing. " She has many wonderful things to tell to such as 
 we are." 
 
 " Not more than we have to tell her. Why, mother, she 
 knows no more " 
 
 "Well, well," said the mother, smiling; "you cannot do 
 wrong in amusing her to the best of your ability, till she can 
 see the minister, and hear better things. So go, my son." 
 
 Rollo trimmed the lanp ; saw that his mother was pro- 
 vided with fuel and water, and departed ; leaving her mater- 
 .nal heart cheered, so that her almost bare cottage was like a 
 palace to her. She was singing when Macdonald put his 
 head in, as he said, to bid her good night, but in fact to see 
 if Lady Carse had come home. 
 
THE COVE. 107 
 
 David and Rollo acted in turn as scouts ; and from their 
 report it appeared that, though the minister's boat had not 
 shown itself, there was a blockade of the eastern caves. 
 The lady's retreat was certainly suspected to be somewhere 
 in this part of the shore ; for some of Macdonald's people 
 were always in sight. Now and then, a man, or a couple of 
 women, came prying along the rocks ; and once two men 
 took shelter in a cave which adjoined that in which the 
 trembling lady was sitting, afraid to move, and almost to 
 breathe, lest the echoes should betray her. The entrance 
 to her retreat was so curiously concealed by projections of 
 rock, that she had nothing to fear but from sound. But 
 she could not be sure of this ; and she would have extin- 
 guished her fire by heaping sand upon it, and left herself in 
 total darkness in a labyrinth which was always sufficiently 
 perplexing, if Rollo had not held her hand. He stepped 
 cautiously through the sand to the nearest point to the foe, 
 listened awhile, and then smiled and nodded to Lady Carse, 
 and seemed wonderfully delighted. This excited her im- 
 patience so much that it seemed to her that the enemy 
 would never decamp. She was obliged to control herself; 
 but by the time she might speak, she was very irritable. 
 She told Rollo not to grin and fidget in that manner, but to 
 let her know his news. 
 
 " Great news ! " Rollo declared. " The sloop which was to 
 bring the minister and his wife was to lie-to this very night, 
 
 in a deep cove close at hand ; and the reason for its coming 
 
 8 — 2 
 
io8 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 here, instead of into the harbour, was — the best of reasons for 
 the lady — that Macdonald had fears that the Macleods who 
 manned the vessel would be friendly to his prisoner. So 
 the minister and his party were to be landed in the sloop's 
 yawl ; and the sloop was to be quietly brought into the cove 
 after dark, that the lady, supposed to be still on the island, 
 might not have any opportunity of getting on board. 
 
 This did appear a most promising opportunity of deliver- 
 ance. The sloop came round when expected; and, soon 
 after she was moored, Rollo and David went on their raft, 
 and spoke from it to a man who appeared to be in com- 
 mand, and who was, after some time, persuaded to think 
 that he could, for sufficient payment, go so far out of his 
 way as to land a lady passenger on the main — the lady being 
 in anxiety about her family, and able to pay handsomely for 
 an early opportunity of joining them. The negotiation was 
 rather a long one, as some of the points were difficult to 
 arrange ; and the master of the vessel appeared somewhat 
 careless about the whole matter. But at last Lady Carse's 
 anxious ear heard the slight splash of the raft approaching 
 through the water; and then the tall figures of the young 
 men were din:ily seen between her and the sky. Her tongue 
 was so parched that she could not speak the question which 
 swelled in her heart. 
 
 " Come," said Rollo, aloud. " The master will land you 
 on the main. You had better get on board now, before the 
 sea roughens. Come, they are looking out for you." 
 
THE COVE. 
 
 109 
 
 Lady Carse endeavoured to make haste; but her limbs 
 would hardly support her. Her companions lifted her upon 
 
 ONE HELD HER STEADY WHILE THE OTHER PADDLED. 
 
 the raft, and one held her steady while the other paddled. 
 Strong arms were ready on board the sloop to hoist her up 
 
no THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 and carry her to a heap of plaids, made into a sort of bed 
 on deck. In another moment she sprang up, saying that 
 she must speak to her companions one more word. A sailor 
 who stood over her held her back ; but she declared that 
 she must thank those who had rendered her a great service. 
 At the bidding of someone who spoke in Gaelic, the sailor 
 withdrew his opposition, and she tottered to the side of the 
 vessel, called to RoUo, desired him to give her love to his 
 mother, and promised that he and David should find that 
 she was not ungrateful. 
 
 Rollo and his comrade leaped ashore with a comfortable 
 feehng that their business was all achieved ; but yet with 
 some little regret at losing the excitements of their late 
 employment, and of the lady's presence and conversation. 
 They talked her over while eating their suppers, wondered 
 what rewards she would send, and how angry Macdonald 
 would be ; and they were about to lie down to sleep, when 
 the night air was rent by such a scream as they had never 
 heard. They ran out upon the rocks, and there they heard 
 from the sloop shriek upon shriek. 
 
 " What is it ? " exclaimed David. " They are murdering 
 her ! " 
 
 " No," said Rollo, after a pause. " They may be up to 
 that, if this is a trick ; but they would not do it here, nor so 
 soon. They could do it more safely between this and St. 
 Kilda, with a rope and heavy stone. No — they are not 
 murdering her, whoever they may be." 
 
THE COVE. 
 
 " What, then ? Who are they ? " 
 
 "It may be a trick, and that would put the lady in a 
 great passion ; and when she is in a passion, let me tell you, 
 not all the birds in the face of this rock can make more 
 noise. I am not sure, but I think that is a passionate 
 scream." 
 
 "I wish it would leave off," said David, turning away 
 " I don't like it." 
 
 "If you don't like it," said Rollo, "I should hardly think 
 she can. I must see about it. I think it is a trick, and that 
 she is in a passion." 
 
 It was a trick from beginning to end. It was Macdonald's 
 sloop ; and Macdonald himself was on board, prepared to 
 carry his prisoner to St. Kilda. The conversation overheard 
 by Rollo in the cavern was a trick. A similar conversation 
 had been held that day in every cave known to Macdonald 
 along that part of the shore, in hopes of some one version 
 being overheard by the lady's accomplices. She had fallen 
 into the trap very easily. 
 
 "And now," said Macdonald to a clansman, "I have nearly 
 done with the business. We have only to land her in St. 
 Kilda ; and then it will be the Macleod's affair. I shall be 
 glad to have done with the witch. I have no wish to carry 
 people anywhere against their wishes ; and I never would, if 
 Sir Alexander Macdonald were not in it. But I shall have 
 done with the business presently." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 WHICH REFUGE? 
 
 MacdonAld's self congratulations were premature. He 
 had more uneasiness to undergo about the lady than he had 
 suffered yet. When her screams of rage had sunk into sobs 
 and moans, and these again had been succeeded by silence, 
 he had left her undisturbed to cry herself to sleep. At day- 
 light he had gone to take a look, but she had, as he sup- 
 posed, muffled herself up in the plaids provided for her, so 
 as to cover her head, and thus conceal her face. But it 
 soon after appeared that these plaids had nothing under 
 them — the lady was not there. 
 
 No one had seen her move ; and it must have been done 
 in the thickest darkness of the night. One man had heard 
 a splash in the water alongside. A cotton handkerchief, 
 which she had worn on her head, was found floating. It 
 was to be feared that the lady had drowned herself. After 
 searching about in the neighbourhood all day, Macdonald 
 departed in his vessel, leaving a man to watch, in case of 
 the body being thrown up among the rocks. He had now 
 no doubt of her death ; and with a heavy heart he went to 
 confide this event — unfortunate for him, whether so or not 
 for anyone else — first to friends on the island, and next to 
 his chief. He met the minister on his landing, and took the 
 
 112 
 
WHICH REFUGEE 113 
 
 opportunity of whispering his news to some of those who 
 came down to greet the pastor, to his own wife, and to An- 
 nie Fleming, desiring them not to inform the pastor, without 
 his permission, that such a person as Lady Carse had been 
 among them. Then he set sail for Skye, to tell Sir Alexan- 
 der, with what face he might, that the poor lady would 
 trouble them no more. It would have been a vast relief to 
 him to have anticipated the way in which his chief would re- 
 ceive the news— how he would say that a great perplexity 
 was thus solved — that no harm could ensue, as the lady was 
 buried so long ago at Edinburgh — and that he had himself 
 many times repented having gone into the affair, and that he 
 never would, but for political and party reasons, and that he 
 was heartily glad now to be quit of it, in any way — to say 
 nothing of this being, after all, a happy event for the 
 wretched lady herself and all belonging-to her. 
 
 Meanwhile Lady Carse was not yet out of their way. She 
 had still voice to utter political secrets, and temper all eager 
 to punish her foes. She had slipped away in the dark, 
 thrown herself overboard when she found Rollo below, got 
 drenched with sea-water and bruised against the rocks, but 
 was safe in hiding again. 
 
 .Rollo's trouble was, that she laughed so heartily and so 
 incessantly for some time, that there was danger of her 
 merriment betraying her. He told her at last that she must 
 try if she would leave off laughing when left to herself. If 
 she could not, she would then, at any rate, cause no one 
 
114 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 but herself to be taken. He should go by a way of his own 
 to a point whence he could look out and see what was doing 
 at sea and ashore. 
 
 When he reappeared, it was with a face which would have 
 stopped any laughter on the side of the lady, if the laughter 
 had not stopped of itself long before. She must not hope 
 to escape by the minister's boat. Macdonald had so 
 managed his plot as to allure the lady into his boat just 
 when she should have been attempting to get on board the 
 other. It was too late now. 
 
 The lady would not be finally convinced of this till, by 
 Rollo's assistance, she had reached the spot whence she 
 could observe the facts for herself. The knowledge that 
 there was a watch set below, who would not fail to take her 
 alive, though his affair was to pick up her dead body, kept 
 her from yielding to audible grief, but never had she been 
 more convulsed with passion. She pulled up the heather by 
 handfuls. She dashed her head against the ground, till 
 Rollo restrained her. 
 
 On the dun wintry sea a vessel was sailing northwards. 
 It had deposited the pastor and his lady, and had actually 
 passed and repassed the very shore where she had been 
 concealed. The long looked for vessel had come and gone. 
 Another was sailing eastwards in the direction she longed to 
 go. This was Macdonald's ; and seeing that it was going to 
 Skye or the main, she now bitterly lamented having left it. 
 She would not believe a word about the intention to carry 
 
WHICH REFUGE i 115 
 
 her to St. Kilda. She would rather believe her own eyes, 
 and passionately condemned herself for her haste in return- 
 ing to this dreary island. 
 
 Rollo next turned her attention to the little procession 
 which appeared upon the hills, bringing the pastor and his 
 wife to their new abode. She looked that way; she saw 
 the group ascending the hill — a sight so unusual in this 
 place, that Rollo was much excited about it ; but her eyes 
 kept filling with tears, and she was so heart-sick that she 
 could not bear any thoughts but of her own troubles. She 
 desired Rollo to leave her. She wanted to be alone ; no- 
 body had any feeling for her ; people might go and amuse 
 themselves ; all she wanted was to live and die alone. 
 
 Rollo knew that she could not do that, but he wished to 
 go where others were going — said to himself that the lady 
 would be the better for being left to herself for awhile, and 
 left her accordingly. He first asked her whether he should 
 help her down to the cave, but she made no answer, so he 
 walked off, leaving her lying on the heather in a cold and 
 dreary place. 
 
 She did not feel the cold, and she was too dreary within 
 to be sensible of the desolation without. How deserted she 
 felt as she saw Rollo walking away, quickening his pace to 
 a run when he reached the down. It might be said that 
 she was without a hope in heaven or on earth, but that 
 passion always hopes for its own gratification — always 
 expects it, in defiance of all probability, and in opposition 
 
ii6 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 to all reason. This is one chief mode in which the indul- 
 gence of any kind of passion is corrupting. It injures the 
 integrity of the faculties and the truthfulness of the mind, 
 inducing its victims to trust to chances instead of likelihood, 
 and to dwell upon extravagances till they become incapable 
 of seeing things as they are. 
 
 So Lady Carse now presently forgot that she was alone 
 on a hill in a far island of the Hebrides, with no means of 
 getting away, and no chance of letting any friend know that 
 she was not buried long ago — and her imagination was busy 
 in London. She fancied herself there, and, if once there, 
 how she would accomplish her revenge. She imagined 
 herself talking to the minister, and repeating to him the 
 things her husband had written and said against himself and 
 the royal family. She imagined herself introduced to the 
 king, and telling into his anxious ear the tidings of the 
 preparations made for driving him from the throne and 
 restoring the exiled family. She imagined the list made 
 out of the traitors to be punished, at the top of which she 
 would put the names of her own foes — her husband first, 
 and Lord Leovat next. She imagined the king's grate- 
 ful command to her to accompany his messengers to 
 Scotland, that she might guide and help them to seize the 
 offenders. She clasped her hands behind her head in a 
 kind of rapture when she pictured to herself the party 
 stealing a march upon her formal husband, presenting 
 themselves before him, and telling him what they came for 
 
WHICH REFUGE i 117 
 
 — marking, and showing him how they marked his deadly 
 paleness, perhaps by making courteous inquiries about his 
 health. She feasted her fancy on scenes in the presence of 
 her old acquaintance, Duncan Forbes, when she would 
 distress him by driving home her charges against the friends 
 of his youth, and by appeals to his loyalty, which he could not 
 resist. She pictured to herself the trials and the sentences 
 — and then the executions — her slow driving through the 
 streets in her coach in her full triumph, people pointing her 
 out all the way as the lady who was pretended to be dead 
 and buried, but who had come back, in favour with the 
 king, to avenge him and herself at once on their common 
 enemies. She wondered whether Lord Lovat's cool assur- 
 ance would give way at such a moment — she almost feared 
 not — almost shrank already from the idea of some wounding 
 gibe — frowned and clenched her hands while fancying what 
 it would be, and then smiled at the thought of how she 
 would smile, and bow an eternal farewell to the dying man, 
 reminding him of her old promise to sit at a window and 
 see his head fall. 
 
 But the astonishment to all Edinburgh would be when 
 she should look on triumphantly to see her husband die. 
 He had played the widower in sight of all Edinburgh, and 
 now it would be seen how great was the lie, and nobody 
 could dispute that the widowhood was hers. She hoped 
 that he would turn his prim figure and formal face her way, 
 that she might make him, too, an easy bow, showing how 
 
ii8 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 she despised the hypocrite, and how completely he had 
 failed in breaking her spirit. She hoped she should be in 
 good looks at that time, not owning the power of her 
 enemies by looking worn and haggard. She must consider 
 her appearance a little more than she had done lately in 
 view of this future time. Her being somewhat weather- 
 browned would not matter; it would be rather an advan- 
 tage, as testifying to her banishment; but she must be in 
 comfortable plight, and for this purpose 
 
 Here her meditations were cut short by the approach of 
 some people. She heard a pony's feet on the rock, and 
 caught sight of a woman's head, wrapped in a plaid, as the 
 party mounted directed towards her. It was too late for 
 escape — and there was no need. The woman on the pony 
 was Annie ; and nobody else was there but Rollo. 
 
 " The wonder is that you are not frozen," said Rollo, " if 
 you have been lying here all this time. You look as red in 
 the face, and as warm as if you had been by the fire below 
 in the snug sand. And that is where we must go now 
 directly ; for mother cannot stand the cold up here. She 
 would come, as it happened she could have one of Mac- 
 donald's ponies to-day. Well, I cannot but think how you 
 could keep yourself warm, unless you are a witch as Mac- 
 donald says you are." 
 
 " It is the mother's heart in her, Rollo, that keeps out the 
 cold, and the harm," said Annie. " It may be a wonder to 
 you ; for how should you know what it is to have had a 
 
WHICH REFUGE 1 
 
 119 
 
 hope of seeing one's children, to have dreamed of nothing 
 else, waking or sleeping, and then to find it nothing but a 
 dream. See her now, RoUo, as the cold comes over her 
 heart. The heart can live warm on its own thoughts, when 
 it is chilling to hear another voice speak of them." 
 
 THE WOMAN ON THE PONY WAS ANNIE. 
 
 Lady Carse was now very pale. She had once said, and 
 then fully beUeved it, that she had no shame. It was long 
 since she had felt shame. She felt it now, when it struck 
 her that during all her long reveries about her escape and 
 her restoration to the world, not one thought of her children 
 
120 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 had entered into the imagery of her dream. Like all 
 people of strong passions, she had taken for granted that 
 there was something grand and fine in the intensity of her 
 feelings. Now, for a moment, the clear mirror of Annie's 
 mind was held up before her own, and she saw herself as 
 she was. For one instant she perceived that she was 
 worthy of her husband's detestation. But she was not one 
 to tolerate painful and humbling ideas long. She recurred 
 to her unequalled wrongs, and was proud and comforted. 
 She walked down to her retreat without looking behind her, 
 leaving Rollo to tether the pony, and help his mother down 
 as he could. 
 
 When Annie entered the cave, the drops were standing on 
 her face, so great had been the pain to her rheumatic limbs 
 on descending to the shore. 
 
 " But," said she, as she sank down on the sand by the 
 smouldering fire, " I could not but come, when I heard from 
 Rollo that you were still breathing God's air." 
 
 " Do you mean that that was good news or bad ? " 
 
 " Oh, good ! Surely good news. At first, for a moment 
 after Macdonald told me you were drowned in the night, I 
 felt thankful that your troubles were over. But I soon saw 
 it the right way ; and when Rollo whispered you were " 
 
 " What do you mean by seeing it the right way ? How do 
 you know that your first feeling was not the right one ? I 
 am sure it was the kindest to me. You think yourself 
 religious, and so you ought to be glad when an unhappy 
 
WHICH REFUGEE 121 
 
 person is ' where the wicked cease from troubling, and the 
 weary are at rest.'" 
 
 Annie did not reply. She was looking at the fire, and by 
 its light it might be seen that tears were gathering in her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the irritable lady, "you, and such as you, who 
 think you abide in the Scriptures so that nothing can move 
 you; what becomes of you when you are answered by 
 Scripture ? " 
 
 " I do not feel myself answered," Annie quietly replied. 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" 
 
 " I feel what you said out of Scripture to be quite true ; 
 and that it is a great blessing that God has set the quiet 
 grave before our eyes for such as can find no other rest But 
 I would not forget that there is another and a better rest, 
 without waiting for the grave." 
 
 " You are so narrow, Annie ! You judge of everybody 
 by yourself ! " 
 
 "That is a great danger I know," Annie agreed. "And 
 I cannot speak from my own knowledge of being troubled 
 by the wicked. But I have read and heard much of good 
 men who were buffeted by the wicked for the best part of 
 their lives, and at last got over being troubled by it, and 
 more than that." 
 
 " Ah ! gloried in it, no doubt. Everyone is proud of 
 something; and they were proud of that." 
 
 " Some such I fear there may have often been, madam } 
 
122 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 but I was not thinking of those that could fall into such a 
 snare as being proud of the ill-will of their brethren. I was 
 thinking of some who felt the ill opinion of their brethren 
 to be very humbling, and who humbled themselves to bear 
 it. Then in time they had comfort in forgiving their 
 enemies, and at last they grew fit for a sweeter pleasure still 
 which yet remained. Not that, as I beUeve, they spoke of 
 it, unless at moments when the joy would speak for itself; 
 but then it has been known to burst forth from the lips of 
 the persecuted — from some as cruelly persecuted as you, 
 madam, that of all the thrillings that God's spirit makes in 
 men's hearts, there is none so sweet as the first stirrings of 
 the love of enemies." 
 
 There was no answer, and Annie went on. 
 
 " I could believe that there is no love so altogether good 
 — at least for us here. It is as )'earning as that of a mother 
 for her child, and as tender as that of lovers ; and I should 
 say, more holy than either, for theirs is natural to them in 
 their mortal life, though it may be the purest part of it ; the 
 other love is an instinct belonging to the immortal life, a 
 tongue of fire, sent down upon the head of a chosen one 
 here and there, gifting them with the language of angels, to 
 tell us on this side the grave what we shall find beyond. 
 One must see that to such as these the wicked have ceased 
 from troubling, and their weariness has lonj sunk into rest 
 without help from death." 
 
 Lady Carse sighed. 
 
WHICH REFUGEE 123 
 
 " This was why I was glad, madam, to hear that death had 
 not overtaken you yet. If you may enter into a living rest 
 which we may see, that will, under God's blessing, be better 
 than the blank rest of going away from your enemies, when 
 their old wrongs may be still in your heart, making death a 
 stinging serpent instead of a guiding dove.'' 
 
 Some sweet old words here occurred to Lady Carse, linked 
 with a sweet old psalm tune — words of longing to have wings 
 like a dove, to flee away and be at rest. She murmured 
 these words ; and they brought softening tears. 
 
 " You see, madam," said Annie, "your nest is made for 
 you. You have been permitted to flee away from your ene- 
 mies ! now you are not to have wings, for the sails of the 
 vessels are out of sight, and this makes it plain that here is 
 to be your nest. It is but a stormy place to abide in, to be 
 sure ; but if Christ be sought. He is here to command peace, 
 and the winds and the sea obey Him." 
 
 "I cannot stay here," sobbed Lady Carse. "I cannot 
 give up my hopes and my efforts — the only aim of my life." 
 
 "It is hard," said the widow, with starting tears. "The 
 last thing that a mother can give up, — the very last thing she 
 can lay freely into God's hand is her yearning for her children. 
 But you will " 
 
 " It is not my children that I most want. You say falsely 
 that they are the last to be given up. There is " 
 
 " Falsely ! " cried Rollo, springing to his feet. " My 
 mother speak falsely ! If you dare " 
 
124 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 "Gently, my boy," said Annie. "We have not heard 
 what the lady means." 
 
 "Be quiet, Rollo," said Lady Carse. "Your mother 
 speaks falsely as regards me ; but I do not say that it is not 
 after her own kind that she speaks. If God gives me to 
 see my children, I will thank him devoutly; but there is 
 another thing that I want more — revenge on all my enemies, 
 and on my husband first." 
 
 Rollo looked breathlessly at his mother. Her face was 
 calm ; but he could see in the dim red light its expression 
 of infinite sorrow. She asked her son to help her to rise 
 and go. 
 
 "I came," said she to Lady Carse, "to en'reat you to 
 come among us, and rest in a spirit of surrender to God, on 
 His clear showing that He chooses this to be your abiding 
 place '; and one reason for my coming was to tell you that 
 the minister has brought his children, lest the sight of a 
 child's face should move you too suddenly. But I see that 
 your thoughts are on other things; and that your spirit of 
 surrender has yet to be prayed for. Next Sabbath, we are 
 to have worship once more, and " 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " In the old chapel, if it can be enclosed by that time. It 
 not, we must wait another week : but I think it will be done. 
 It needs but a word, madam, and the minister will ask all 
 our prayers for one under affliction " 
 
 " By no means. I forbid you to speak of me, in one way 
 
WHICH REFUGEE 125 
 
 er another, to the minister or his wife. I insist on my 
 wishes being observed in this.''^ 
 
 " Certainly, madam. It is not for us to interfere with your 
 plans." 
 
 " Then go ; go both of you : and do not come near me 
 without my leave. I want to be alone — I want to be at rest ; 
 that is " 
 
 " Ay— at rest," said Annie, half aloud. She was thinking 
 that there would be prayers from one heart at least in the 
 chapel for peace to a troubled spirit. 
 
 And she did not wait for the Sabbath to pray. As, assisted 
 by her son, she painfully ascended to the heights, she saw 
 the birds fly in and out, and hover round on the face of the 
 precipice, as at a bidding she did not hear, she could not 
 but silently ask that God would send His dove to harbour in 
 the hollow of this rock with one who sorely needed a visita- 
 tion of His peace. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 
 
 After the busiest week known in the island by anybody 
 living there, the Sabbath-day came in, calm and mild. The 
 winters, however stormy, were never severely cold in this 
 sea-beaten spot. It was seldom that ice was seen ; and it 
 was never more than half an inch thick. When, as on this 
 Sunday, the wind was lulled and the sky was clear, the 
 climate was as mild as in spring on the mainland. As soon 
 as the aspect of the sunrise showed the experienced that the 
 day would be fair, busy hands moved into the old roofless 
 chapel the pulpit and benches which the pastor had brought 
 with him — the pulpit being a mere desk of unpainted wood, 
 and the benches of the roughest sort. For these the interior 
 space of the old building had been cleared during the week ; 
 the floor was trodden hard and even; the walls were so far 
 repaired as to make a complete enclosure ; and some rough 
 stones were placed as steps whereby to enter the burying- 
 ground. Some willing hands had done more — had cleared 
 the burying ground of stones, so that the graves, though 
 sunk, and unmarked by any memorial but a rough and 
 broken headstone here and there, could be distinguished by 
 an eye interested in searching out the dead of a century ago. 
 Another week, if sufficiently fair, was to see the walls finished 
 
 126 
 
FOLDING THE FLOCK. 127 
 
 and the roof on : and afterwards would be discharged the 
 pious task of enclosing the burying-ground, and preparing 
 room for those whom death would lay to rest in their own 
 island. While the minister remained here, no more of the 
 dead would be carried over the sea to some place where 
 there was a pastor to commit them to the grave. Room 
 was to be secured for the graves of the fifty people who were 
 now living on the island, and for their children after them : 
 and to all the inhabitants the island appeared a better place 
 when this arrangement was made. 
 
 In the weak sunlight of that Sunday morning appeared 
 gay groups of people, all excited with the great thought that 
 they were going to the kirk. They were wonderfully well 
 clad. How such clothes could come out of such dwellings 
 would have been a marvel to any stranger. Festival days 
 were so rare that a holiday dress lasted for many years. 
 The women's cloth coats fitted at any age; and the caps 
 with gay ribbons and bright cotton handkerchiefs did not 
 wear out. On this remarkable day all wore their best, 
 and a pretty sight it was to see the whole fifty people 
 drawing towards the chapel as the pastor, his wife, and 
 two children, issued from their lowly abode to meet the 
 flock for the first time. 
 
 Presently the island might have appeared deserted. Far 
 round as the eye could reach not a human being was 
 visible outside the chapel. But something was heard which 
 told that the place was not only inhabited, but Chris- 
 
128 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 tianized. The slow psalm rose into the still air. Every- 
 one who could speak could sing a psalm. It was a prac- 
 tice lovingly kept up in every house. Some voices were 
 tremulous, and a few failed; but this was from emotion. 
 The strongest was Annie's, for hers was the most prac- 
 tised. It was her wont to sing some of the many psalms 
 she knew on summer days, when she sat at work on the 
 platform of her house, and on winter nights, when Rollo 
 was away. Now that she was once more joining in social 
 worship, her soul was joyful, and she sang strong and 
 clear^perhaps the more so for the thought of the one 
 absent person, pining in the cavern on the shore, or 
 looking from afar, in desolation of heart, at the little 
 throng who came privileged to worship. Perhaps Annie's 
 voice might unconsciously rise as if to reach the lonely 
 one, and invite her to come to the house of God and 
 seek rest. However this might be, Annie's tones so ani- 
 mated some hearts and strengthened some voices as that 
 the psalm might be, and was, heard a long way off. It 
 reached an unwilling ear, and drew forward reluctant 
 steps. The links of old association, are, however, the 
 strongest of chains, and no charm is so magical as that 
 of religious emotion. Lady Carse was drawn nearer and 
 nearer, in hope of hearing another psalm, till the solemn 
 tones of prayer reached her, and presently she was crouching 
 under the wall outside, weeping like a sinner who dares 
 not knock at the gate of heaven. 
 
FOLDING THE FLOCK. 129 
 
 Before the service was quite finished, angry voices were 
 heard from without, almost overpowering that of the pastor 
 as ho gave the blessing. One of Macdonald's people, who 
 had stepped out to collect the ponies for some of the women 
 and children, had seen the lady, and, after one start back as 
 from the ghost of a drowned woman, had laid hold of her 
 gown, and said she must stay where she could be spoken 
 with by Macdonald on his return from Skye. She struggled 
 to escape, and did break away — not down the hill, but into 
 the chapel. 
 
 The consternation was inexpressible. The people, sup- 
 posing her drowned, took her for a ghost, though there was 
 no ghostly calm about her ; but her eyes were swollen, her 
 hair disordered, her lips quivering with violent emotion. 
 There was a solemnity about her, too ; for extreme anguish 
 is always solemn, in proportion as it approaches to despair. 
 She rushed to the front of the pulpit, and held out her hands, 
 exclaiming aloud to Mr. Ruthven that she was the most per- 
 secuted and tormented of human beings ; that she appealed 
 to him against her persecutors ; and if he did not see her 
 righted, she warned him that he would be damned deeper 
 than hell. Mrs. Ruthven shuddered, and left her seat to 
 place herself by her husband. And now she encountered 
 the poor lady's gaze, and, moreover, had her own grasped 
 as it had never been before. 
 
 " Are these children yours ? " she was asked. 
 
 " Yes," faltered Mrs. Ruthven. 
 
130 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 "Then you must help me to recover mine. Had you 
 ever," — and here she turned to the pastor — " had you ever 
 an enemy ? " Her voice turned hoarse as she uttered the 
 word. 
 
 " No — yes — Oh, yes ! " said he. " I have had enemies, as 
 every man has." 
 
 " Then, as you wish them abased and tormented, you 
 must help me to abase and torment mine— my husband, and 
 Lord Lovat " 
 
 " Lord Lovat ! " repeated many wondering voices. 
 
 " And Sir Alexander Macdonald ; and his tenant of this 
 place; and " 
 
 As Mr. Ruthen looked round him, perplexed and amazed, 
 one of Macdonald's people went up to him, and whispered 
 into his ear that this lady had come from some place above 
 or below, for she v/as drowned last week. Mr. Ruthven 
 half smiled. 
 
 "I will know," cried the lady, "what that fellow said. I 
 will hear what my enemies tell you against me. My only 
 hope is in you. I am stolen from Edinburgh ; they pre- 
 tended to bury me there Eh? what?" she cried, as 
 
 another man whispered something into the pastor's other ear. 
 " Mad ! There ! I heard it. I heard him say I was mad. 
 Did he not tell you I was mad ? " 
 
 " He did ; and one cannot really I cannot " 
 
 As he looked round again in his perplexity, the widow 
 rose from her seat, and said, 
 
FOLDING THE FLOCK. 131 
 
 "I know this lady; my son and I know her better than 
 anyone else in the island does ; and we should say that she 
 is not mad." 
 
 " Nol mad ! " Mr. Ruthven said, with a mingling of sur- 
 prise in his tone which did not escape the jealous ear of 
 Lady Carse. 
 
 "Not mad, sir; but grievously oppressed. If you could 
 quietly hear the story, sir, at a fitting time " 
 
 "Ay, ay; that will be best," declared Mr. Ruthven. 
 
 " Let me go home with you," said Lady Carse. " I will 
 go home with you ; and " 
 
 Mrs. Ruthven exchanged a glance with her husband, and 
 then said, in an embarrassed way, while giving a hand to 
 each of the two children who were clinging to her, that their 
 house was very small, extremely small indeed, with too little 
 room for the children, and none whatever left over. 
 
 "It is my house," exclaimed Lady Carse, impatiently. "It 
 was built with a view to you; but it -was done under my 
 orders, and I have a claim upon it. And what ails the 
 children ? " she cried, in a tone which made the younger cry 
 aloud. " What are they afraid of? " 
 
 " I don't know, I am sure," said their mother, helping 
 them, however, to hide their faces in her gown, 
 "But " 
 
 Again Annie rose and said " There could be no difficulty 
 about a place for the lady if she would be pleased to do as 
 she did before — live in her cottage. The two dwellings 
 
132 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 might almost be called one, and if the lady would go home 
 with her " 
 
 Gratitude was showered on Annie from all the parties. 
 As the lady moved slowly towards the widow's house, holding 
 Annie's arm, and weeping as she went, and followed by the 
 Ruthvens, the eyes of all the Macdonalds gazed after her, in 
 a sort of doubt whether she were a witch, or a ghost, or 
 really and truly a woman. 
 
 As soon as jNIacdonald's sloop could be discerned on its 
 approach the next day, Mr. Ruthven went down, and paced 
 the shore while daylight lasted, though assured that the 
 vessel would not come up till night. As soon as a signal 
 could be made in the morning for the yawl, he passed to 
 the sloop, where he had a conference with Macdonald, the 
 consequence of which was, that as soon as he was set ashore 
 the sloop again stood out to sea. 
 
 Mrs. Ruthven and Lady Carse saw this, as they stood 
 hand in hand at the door of the new dwelling. They kissed 
 each other at the sight. They had already kissed each 
 other very often, for they called themselves dear and inti- 
 mate friends who had now one great common object in life 
 — to avenge Lady Carse's wrongs. 
 
 "■Well, what news?" they both cried, as Mr. Ruthven 
 came towards them, panting from the haste with which he 
 had ascended. 
 
 " The tenant is gone back," said he, " he has returned to 
 Sir Alexander to contradict his last news — of your being 
 
FOLDING THE FLOCK. 133 
 
 drowned. By-the-way, I promised to contradict it, too — to 
 the man who is watching for the body every tide." 
 
 " Oh, he must have heard the facts from some of the 
 people at the chapel." 
 
 " If he had he would not believe them, Macdonald says, 
 on any other authority than his. Nor will he leave his post 
 till he finds the body, or " 
 
 " Or sees me," cried Lady Carse, laughing. " Come, let 
 us go and call to him, and tell him he may leave off poking 
 among the weeds. Come; I will show you the way." 
 
 And she ran on with the spirits and pace of a girl. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Ruthven looked at each other with smiles, and 
 Mrs. Ruthven exclaimed, " What a charming creature this 
 was, and how shocking it was to think of her cruel fate." 
 Mr. Ruthven shook hfs head and declared that he regarded 
 the conduct of her persecutors with grave moral disapproba- 
 tion. Meantime Lady Carse looked back, beckoned to 
 them with her hand, and stamped with her foot, because 
 they were stopping to talk. 
 
 " What a simple creature she is ! So childlike ! " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Ruthven. 
 
 " We must quicken our pace, my dear," replied her hus- 
 band. " It would not be right to detain the lady when she 
 wishes to proceed." 
 
 But now Lady Carse was beckoning to somebody else— 
 to little Kate Ruthven, who, with her brother Adam, was 
 peeping from the door of their new home. 
 
134 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 "Come, Katie," said her mother, "don't you see that 
 Lady Carse calls you ? Bring Adam, and go with us." 
 
 Kate turned very red, but did not come. Lady Carse 
 came laughing back to fetch them ; but they bolted into the 
 house, and, when still pursued, scrambled under a bed. 
 When caught, they screamed. 
 
 "Well, to be sure,'' cried their mother; "what behaviour 
 when a lady asks you to go with her ! I declare I am quite 
 ashamed." 
 
 Papa now came up, and said — 
 
 " My dears, I do not approve such behaviour as this." 
 
 Kate began to sob, and Adam followed her example. 
 
 " There, now, do not cry,'' said papa ; " I cannot permit 
 you to cry. You may go with Lady Carse. Lady Carse is 
 so kind as to wish you to go with her. You will like to go 
 with the lady. Why do you not reply, my dears. You 
 must reply when spoken to. You will like to go with the 
 lady— eh?" 
 
 " No,'' murmured Kate. 
 
 " No,'' whispered Adam, 
 
 " I am astonished," papa declared. " I never saw them 
 conduct themselves in this manner before. Did you, my 
 dear?" 
 
 "No; but it is an accident, 1 dare say, Something has 
 put them out." 
 
 "I must ascertain the cause, however," papa declared. 
 "Such an incident must not pass uncorrected. Listen to 
 
FOLDING THE FLOCK. 135 
 
 me, my dears, and answer me when I ask you a question. 
 Look at this lady." 
 
 Kate slowly lifted her eyes, and Adam then did the same. 
 They seemed on the verge of another scream ; and this 
 was not extraordinary; for Lady Carse was not laughing 
 now, but very far from it. There was something in her face 
 that made the children catch at mamma's gown. 
 
 "Listen to me, my dears,'' papa went on; "and reply 
 when I ask you a question. This good lady is going to live 
 with us " 
 
 A deeper plunge into the folds of mamma's gown. 
 
 " And from this time forwards you must love this lady. 
 You love this lady now, my dears, don't you ? " 
 
 After as long a pause as they dared make, the children 
 said, " No." 
 
 "Well, I never heard ! " exclaimed mamma. 
 
 " What can possess them ? " inquired papa. " My dears, 
 why do you not love the lady, eh,^Kate ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Kate. 
 
 "You don't know? — That is foolish. Adam, why do 
 you not love this lady who is to live with us ? Do not tell 
 me that you don't know, for that is foolish. Why do you 
 not love the lady ? " 
 
 " Because I can't." 
 
 " Why, that is worse still. How perverse," he said, look- 
 ing at the ladies, " how perverse is the human heart. My 
 dear, you can, and you must do what is right. You may 
 
136 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 love me and your mamma first, and next you must love this 
 lady. Say you will try." 
 
 " I'll try," said Kate. 
 
 Adam whimpered a little longer; but then he also said, 
 " I'll try." 
 
 "That is right. That is the least you can say after your 
 extraordinary behaviour. Now you may go with the lady, 
 as she is so kind as to wish it." 
 
 Lady Carse moved off in silence ; and the children, 
 tightly grasping each other's hands, followed as if going to a 
 funeral. 
 
 "Jump, my dears," said papa, when they had reached the 
 down. "Jump about : you may be merry now.'' 
 
 Both looked as if they were immediately going to cry. 
 
 " What now, Adam ? " stooping down that the child might 
 speak confidentially to him, but saying to Lady Carse as he 
 did so, that it was necessary sometimes to condescend to the 
 weakness of children. "Adam, tell me why you are not 
 merry, when I assure you you may." 
 
 " I can't,'' whispered Adam. 
 
 " You can't ! What a sudden fit of humility this boy has 
 got, that he can't do anything to-day. Unless, however, it 
 
 be true, well-grounded humility, I fear " 
 
 Mamma now tried what she could do. She saw, by Lady 
 Carse's way of walking on by herself, that she was displeased- 
 and, under the inspiration of this grief, Mrs. Ruthven so 
 strove to make her children agreeable by causing them to 
 
FOLDING THE FLOCK. 137 
 
 forget everything disagreeable, that they were soon hke 
 themselves again. Mamma permitted them to look for 
 hens' eggs among the whins, because they had heard that 
 when she was a little girl she used to look for them among 
 bushes in a iield. There was no occasion to tell them at 
 such a critical moment for their spirits that it was mid-winter, 
 or that whins would be found rather prickly by poultry, or 
 that there were no hens in the island but Mrs. Macdonald's 
 well sheltered pets. They were told that the first egg they 
 found was to be presented to Lady Carse ; and they them- 
 selves might divide the next. 
 
 Their mother's hope, that if they did not find hens' eggs, 
 they might light upon something else, was not disappointed. 
 Pephaps she took care that it should not. Adam found a 
 barley-cake on the sheltered side of a bush ; and it was not 
 long before Kate found one just as good. They were de- 
 sired to do with these what they would have done with the 
 eggs — present one to Lady Carse and divide the other. As 
 they were very hungry, they hastened to fulfil the condition 
 of beginning to eat. Again grasping one another's hands, 
 they walked with desperate courage up to Lady Carse, and 
 held out a cake, without yet daring, however, to look 
 up. 
 
 " Well, what is that ? " she asked sharply. 
 
 "A barley-cake." 
 
 " Who bade you bring it to me ? " 
 
 " Mamma." 
 
 }0 
 
138 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 " You would not have brought it if mamma had not bid 
 you ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Allow me to suggest," observed papa, " that they would 
 not have ventured. It would be a liberty unbecoming their 
 years to " 
 
 lii%^. J^^4S^, 
 
 THEY TOOK TO THEIR HEELS AND SCAMPERED AWAY OVER 
 THE DOWNS. 
 
 "Oh, nonsense !" cried Lady Carse; "I hate these put- 
 up manners. No, miss — no, young master — I will not take 
 your cake. I take gifts only from those I love ; and if you 
 don't love me, I don't love you — and so there is a Rowland 
 for your Oliver." 
 
 The children did not know anything about Rowlands and 
 
FOLDING THE FLOCK. 139 
 
 Olivers; but they saw that the lady was very angry — so 
 angry that they took to their heels, scampered away over 
 the downs, and never stopped till they reached home, and 
 had hidden themselves under the bed. 
 
 They were not followed. Punishment for their act of 
 absconding was deferred till Lady Carse's errand should 
 be finished. When once down among the rocks, Lady 
 Carse was eager to show her dear friends all the secrets of 
 her late hiding. As soon as Macdonald's watchman was 
 convinced by the lady that she was not drowned, and by 
 the minister that he might go home— as seen as he was 
 fairly out of sight, the wonders of the caves were revealed 
 to the pastor and his wife. The party were so interested 
 in the anecdotes belonging to Lady Carse's season of "retreat, 
 that they did not observe, sheltered as they were in eastern 
 caves, that a storm was coming up from the west — one of 
 the tempests which frequently rise from that quarter in the 
 winter season, and break over the Western Islands. 
 
 The children were aware of it before their parents. When 
 they found they were not followed, they soon grew tired of 
 whispering under the bed, and came cautiously forth. 
 
 It was very dark, strangely dark, till a glare of lightning 
 came, which was worse than the darkness. But the thunder 
 was worse : it growled fearfully, so as to make them hold 
 their breath. The next clap made them cry. After that 
 cry came help. 
 
 The widow heard the wail from next door, and called to 
 
 10 — 2 
 
I40 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 the children from her door ; and glad enough were they to 
 take refuge with a grown-up person who smiled and spoke 
 cheerfully, in spite of the thunder. 
 
 " Are you not afraid of the thunder ? " asked Kate, nestling 
 so close to the widow that she was advised to take care lest 
 the sharp bone knitting needles went into her eyes. " But 
 are not you afraid of the thunder ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because I am not afraid of anything." 
 
 " What, not of anything at all ? " 
 
 "Not of anything at all. And there are many things 
 much more harmful than thunder." 
 
 "What things?" 
 
 " The wind is, perhaps, the most terrible of all." 
 
 " How loud it is now ! " said Adam, shivering as the rush- 
 ing storm drowned his voice. When the gust had passed, 
 the widow said, 
 
 " It was not the wind that made all that noise, it was a 
 dash of hail. Ah ! if I do fear anything, it is large hail ; 
 not because it will hurt me, but because it may break my 
 window, and let in the wind to blow out my lamp." 
 
 " But why do not things hurt you ? If the lightning was 
 to kill you " 
 
 " That would not hurt me," said the widow, smiling. " I 
 do not call that being hurt, more than dying in any other 
 way that God pleases." 
 
FOLDING THE FLOCK. 141 
 
 "But if it did not kill you quite, but hurt you — hurt you 
 very much indeed — burned you, or made you blind ? " 
 
 " Then I should know that it was no hurt, but in some 
 way a blessing, because the lightning comes from God. I 
 
 always like to see it, because There ! " she said, as a 
 
 vivid flash illumined the place. " Did you ever see anything 
 so bright as that ? How should we ever fancy the brightness 
 of God's throne, if He did not send us a single ray, now and 
 then, in this manner — one single ray, which is as much as 
 we can bear ? I dare say you have heard it read in church 
 how all things are God's messengers, without any word being 
 said about their hurting us, — 'fire and hail;' here they 
 are 1 " 
 
 When that gust was past, she went on, 
 " ' Snow and vapour, stormy winds fulfilling His word.' 
 Here we are in the midst of the fire and the hail and the 
 stormy winds. If we looked out, perhaps we might see the 
 ' snow and vapour.' " 
 
 The children did not seem to wish it. 
 "Then again," the widow went on, "we are told that 
 ' He causeth His wind to blow, and the waters flow.' I am 
 sure I can show you that. I am sure the sea must have 
 risen much already, before such a wind as this. Come ! " 
 she continued, wrapping her plaid round herself and the 
 children ; " keep close to me and you will not be cold. The 
 cold has not come yet : and if we stand under the sheltered 
 side of the house we shall not be blown. Hark ! there is 
 
142 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 the roar of the waves when the thunder stops. Now we 
 shall see how ' He causeth His wind to blow and the waters 
 flow." 
 
 She looked so cheerful and promised them such a sight, 
 that they did not like to beg to stay within. Though the 
 hail came pelting in gusts, there was no rain at present to 
 wet them. The wind almost strangled them at the first 
 moment; but they were under the eastern gable of the 
 cottage in an instant, out of the force of the blast. 
 
 There they sat down, all huddled together ; and there the 
 children saw more than they had been promised. 
 
 The tempest had not yet reached Skye ; and they could 
 see, in the intervals of rolling clouds, mountain peaks 
 glittering with snow. 
 
 " There is the snow ! " said the widow. " And see the 
 vapours ! — the tumbling, rolling vapours that we call steam- 
 clouds ! Look how the lightning flash darts out of them ! 
 and how the sea seems swelling and boiling up to meet the 
 vapours ! A little way from the land, the wind catches the 
 spray and carries it up and away. If the wind was now 
 from the east, as it will be in spring, that spray would wash 
 over us, and drench us to the skin in a minute.'' 
 "What, up here?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, and higher still. There ! Adam felt some then." 
 And well he might. The sea was now wrought into such 
 tumult that its waves rolled in upon the rocks with tremen- 
 dous force, causing the caverns to resound with the thunder- 
 
FOLDING THE FLOCK. 143 
 
 ing shock, and the very summit of the precipices to vibrate. 
 Every projection sent up columns of spray, the sprinklings 
 of which reached the heights, bedewing the window of the 
 cottage, and sending in the party under the gable. 
 
 "There now," said the widow, when she had fed her fire, 
 and sat down, " we have seen a fine sight to-day ; and there 
 wUl be more to-morrow." 
 
 " Shall we see it to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; if you like to come to me to-morrow, I think 
 I can promise to show you the shore all black with weed 
 thrown up by the storm, and, perhaps we may get some 
 wood. These storms often cast up wood, sometimes even 
 thick logs. We must not touch the logs; they belong to 
 Sir Alexander Macdonald, but we may take the smaller 
 pieces, those of us who can get down before other people 
 have taken them away. If the minister is not aware of this, 
 we must tell him, and the weeds will be good to manure his 
 kail-bed, if he can find nothing better." 
 
 " Will you go to-morrow and pick up some wood ? " 
 " If I can get down alone ; but I cannot climb up and 
 down as I used to do. I will show you something prettier 
 than wood or weed that I picked up, after one of these 
 storms, when I was younger." And she took out of her 
 chest three shells, one very large and handsome, which had 
 been cast upon the western shore some years before. Adam 
 thought this so beautiful that he begged to have it ; but the 
 widow could not give it away. She told him she must keep 
 
144 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 it for a particular reason ; but he could see it whenever he 
 liked to come to her for the purpose. 
 
 But Adam thought he might pick up such an one himself, 
 if he could go to-morrow to the western shore; and his 
 friend could not say that this was impossible. Oh ! then, 
 would slie not go and show him the way ? Would she not 
 try if he and Kate helped her with all their strength? They 
 were very strong. If she would stand up they would show 
 her how strong they were. She stood up, and they tried to 
 carry her. Their faces were exceedingly red, and they were 
 very near lifting up their friend, and she was laughing and 
 wondering whether they could carry her down the rocks in 
 that way, when the door burst open and Lady Carse 
 appeared. 
 
 "The children must come home," said she to Annie; 
 " they have no business here." 
 
 " I called them in, my lady, when the thunder frightened 
 them." 
 
 "They should not have come. They should have told 
 you that they were under their parents' displeasure." 
 
 All now looked grave enough. The children stole away 
 home, skilfully avoiding taking hold of the lady's offered 
 hands. She pulled the door after her in no gentle manner. 
 She did not much care whether the children were fond of 
 her; but it was somehow disagreeable to her that they should 
 be happy with her next-door neighbour. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE STEWARD ON HIS ROUNDS. 
 
 The return of Macdonald's boat was a great event; and 
 especially to the inhabitants of the hill-side cottages. Mac- 
 donald was accompanied by Sir Alexander's steward, who 
 brought some furniture and finishings for the chapel and the 
 minister's dwelling, and, for the first time, a parcel for Lady 
 Carse. 
 
 When the package was brought up from the shore. Lady 
 Carse rushed in to tell Annie the news, and to bid her come 
 and see the unpacking. 
 
 The poor lady was sure that by means of Mr. Johny, or 
 through some other channel, tidings of her existence and 
 banishment had reached her friends at Edinburgh, and that 
 this parcel contained some warrant of release. With raised 
 colour and sparkling eyes, she talked of her departure the 
 next morning ; of how it would be best to travel, when she 
 once set foot on the main ; of how soon she could reach 
 Edinburgh, and whether it would not be better to go first to 
 London, to lay her own case and the treason of her enemies 
 before the Prime Minister. Mrs. Ruthven agreed to all 
 she said. Mr. Ruthven walked to and fro before the door, 
 stopping at every turn to offer his congratulations. Annie 
 
 looked anxious and eager. 
 
 14S 
 
146 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 When the package was deposited before the door, and 
 the glee of the party was at the highest, the children capered 
 and shouted. Annie quietly checked this, and kept them 
 by her side ; whereupon Lady Carse smiled at Mrs. Ruth- 
 ven, and said she pitied people who were grave when good 
 fortune befell their friends, and who could not bear even to 
 let children sympathize in it. 
 
 "You mistake me, madam," said Annie. "If this pack- 
 age was from Edinburgh, I should feel more like dancing 
 myself than stopping the children's dancing ; but I sadly 
 tear this comes from no further off than Skye. I know the 
 Skye packages." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried Lady Carse. " I know nobody in 
 Skye. I hate croakers. Some people take a pleasure in 
 spoiling other people's pleasure." 
 
 " That is a temper that I do not approve of," observed 
 Mr. Ruthven. "This life is to some such a vale of tears 
 that I think it is ungrateful not to pluck the few flowers of 
 innocent pleasure which grow by the wayside. I should 
 think that a Christian temper would be ready to assist the 
 
 enjoyment. Here, my good men " 
 
 " What stupid fellows those men are ! " cried Lady Carse. 
 " They are actually going away without helping us to un- 
 cord the package." 
 
 She called after them ; but in answer to her scolding, the 
 men only stared ; which made Lady Carse tell them they 
 were idiots. A word or two from Annie in Gaelic brought 
 
THE STEWARD ON HIS ROUNDS. 147 
 
 them back directly, and obtained from them what aid was 
 needed. 
 
 "Shall I enquire, madam," asked Annie, "anytliing that 
 you may wish to know ? " 
 
 " No," replied Lady Carse, sharply. " You speak Gaelic, 
 I think," she said to Mr. Ruthven. " Will you learn from 
 the men all you can about this package, and tell me every 
 word they say ? " 
 
 Mr. Ruthven bowed, cleared his throat, and began to 
 examine the men. Lady Carse meantime said to Mrs. 
 Ruthven, in Annie's hearing, that she must wait, and restrain 
 her patience a little while. There was no saying what might 
 be in the package, and they must be by themselves when 
 they opened it. 
 
 Mrs. Ruthven said she would send the children away; 
 and Annie offered to take them home with her. 
 
 " The children ! " exclaimed Lady Carse. " Oh, bless 
 them ! what harm can they do ? Let them stay by 
 all means. I hope there will be nobody to spoil their 
 pleasure." 
 
 Annie curtseyed, and withdrew to her own house. As 
 she shut the door and sank into a chair, she thought how 
 bad her rheumatic pains were. Her heart was swelling 
 a little too ; but it soon subsided as she said to herself, 
 
 "A vale of tears, indeed, is this lifej or rather a waste 
 and howling wilderness, to that poor lady with her restless 
 mind. God knows I would not reckon hardly with her, or 
 
148 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 anyone so far from peace of mind. Nor can I wonder, 
 when I pity her so much, that others should also, and forget 
 other things when she is before their eyes. I did think, 
 
 when I heard the minister was coming But I had no 
 
 right to expect anything beyond the blessing of the sabbath, 
 and of burial, and the ordinances. And oh, there is the 
 comfort of the sabbath ! The Word is preached, and there 
 is prayer and praise now on sabbath-days for a year to come ; 
 or, perhaps, as many years as I shall live. If this was a 
 place for peace of mind before, what can trouble us now ? '' 
 The closing psalm of last sabbath had never been out of her 
 ears and her heart since. She now began to sing it, softly 
 at first, but louder as her soul warmed to it. She was soon 
 stopped by a louder sound ; a shrill cry from the next house, 
 and presently Mrs. Ruthven rushed in to know what she 
 was to do. Lady Carse was hysterical. The package had 
 contained no news from her friends, but had brought cruel 
 disappointment. It contained some clothing, a stone of 
 sugar, a pound of tea, six pecks of wheat, and an anker 
 of spirits ; and there was a slip of paper to say that the 
 same quantity of these stores would be brought yearly by 
 the steward when he came to collect the heather rent. At 
 this sentence of an abode of years in this place. Lady Carse 
 had given way to despair; had vowed she would choke the 
 steward in his sacks of feathers, that she might be tried for 
 murder on the main ; and then she had attempted to scatter 
 the wheat, and to empty out the spirits, but that Mr. Ruthven 
 
THE STEWARD ON HIS ROUNDS. 149 
 
 had held her hand, and told her that the anker of spirits 
 was, in fact, her purse — her means of purchasing from Mac- 
 donald and others her daily meat and such service as she 
 needed. But now she was in hysterics, and they did not 
 know what to do next. Would Mrs. Fleming come ? 
 
 Annie tliought the lady would rather not see her ; told 
 Mrs. Ruthven how to treat the patient, and begged that 
 the children might be sent to her, if they were in the 
 way. 
 
 The children were with Annie all the rest of the day; 
 for their father and mother were exceedingly busy writing 
 letters, to go by the steward. 
 
 In the evening the steward paid them a visit, in his round 
 back to the boat. He was very civil, brought with him a 
 girl, the handiest and comeliest he said, that he could engage 
 among Macdonald's people, to wait upon Lady Carse ; gave 
 order for the immediate erection of a sort of outhouse for 
 her stores, and desired her to say if there was anything else 
 she was pressingly in want of. She would not say a word to 
 him of one kind or another, but turned him over to the 
 minister. But the minister could not carry his own points. 
 He could not induce the steward to convey a single letter 
 of the several written that day. The steward was sorry . 
 had hoped it was understood that no letter was to leave the 
 island, — no written paper of any kind, — while Lady Carse 
 resided there. He would not take these to Sir Alexander : 
 he would not ask him to yield this point even to the minister. 
 
,5o THE EILLOIV AND THE ROCK. 
 
 Sir Alexander's orders were positive ; and it was clear that 
 in these parts that settled the question. 
 
 While the argument was going on, Lady Carse rose from 
 her seat, and passed behind the steward, to leave the room. 
 She caught up the letters unperceived, and unperceived 
 slipped them into the steward's pocket : so that while he 
 bowed himself out, declining to touch the letters, he was 
 actually carrying them with him. 
 
 Helsa, Lady Carse's new maid, witnessed this prank j 
 and, not daring to laugh at the moment, made up for this 
 by telling the story to her acquaintance, the widow, when 
 sent for the children at night. 
 
 "That will never do," Annie declared. "Harm may 
 come of it, but no good." 
 
 And this set her thinking. 
 
 The consequence of her meditation was that she roused 
 the family from their beds when even Lady Carse had been 
 an hour asleep. When Mr. Ruthven found that there was 
 neither fire nor illness in the case, he declared to Annie his 
 disapprobation of untimely hours ; and said that if those 
 who had a lamp to keep burning became in time forgetful of 
 the difference between night and day, they should remember 
 that it was not so with others ; and that the afflicted especi- 
 ally, who had griefs and agitations during the day, should 
 be permitted to enjoy undisturbed such rest as might be 
 mercifully sent them. 
 
 Annie listened respectfully to all this, and acknowledged 
 
THE STEWARD ON HIS ROUNDS. 151 
 
 the truth of it. It was, however, a hope that Lady Carse 
 might possibly sleep hereafter under the same roof with her 
 children, if this night were not lost, which made her take 
 the liberty of rousing the minister at such an hour. 
 
 She was confident that the steward would either bring 
 back the letters, as soon as he put his hand upon them, or 
 destroy them ; for such a thing was never heard of as an 
 order of Sir Alexander's being disobeyed. She had thought 
 of a way of sending a note, if the minister could write on a 
 small piece of paper what would alarm the lady's friends. 
 She had now and then, at long intervals, a supply from a 
 relation from Dumfries, of a particular kind of thread which 
 she used to knit into little socks and mittens for sale. This 
 knitting was now too fine for her eyes : but the steward did 
 not know this ; and he would no doubt take her order, as 
 he had done before. She believed he would come up to 
 return the letters quite early in the morning. If she had a 
 ball of thread ready, he would take it as a pattern : and this 
 ball might contain a little note ; — a very small one indeed, 
 if the minister would write it. 
 
 " How would the receiver know there was a note ? " asked 
 Mr. Ruthven. 
 
 " It might be years before the ball was used up," Mrs. Ruth- 
 ven observed : " or it might come back as it went." 
 
 " I thought," said Annie, " that I would give the order in 
 this way. I would say that I want four pieces of the thread, 
 all exactly the same length as the one that goes. The 
 
152 THE BILLOW AND TILE ROCK. 
 
 steviAird will set that down in his book; and he always does 
 what we ask him very carefully. Then my relation will un- 
 wind the ball to see what the length is, and come upon the 
 note; and then " 
 
 "I see. I see it all," declared Mr. Ruthven. "Do not 
 you, my dear ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ; I see. It will be delightful, will it not, Lady 
 Carse ? " 
 
 " That is as it may be," said Lady Carse. " It is a plan 
 which may work two ways." 
 
 "I do not see how it can work to any mischief," Annie 
 quietly declared. " I will leave you to consider it. If you 
 think well of the plan, I shall be found ready with my 
 thread. If the steward returns, it will be very early, that he 
 may not lose the tide." 
 
 As might be expected, Annie's offer was accepted ; for 
 even Lady Carse's prejudiced mind could point out no risk, 
 while the success might be everything. There was some- 
 thing that touched her feelings in the patient care with 
 Vvhich the widow sat, in the lamplight, winding the thread 
 over and over the small slip of paper, so as to leave no 
 speck visible, and to make a tight and secure ball. 
 
 The slip of paper contained a request that the reader 
 would let Mr. Hope, advocate, Edinburgh, know that Lady 
 Carse was not dead, though pretended to be buried, but 
 stolen away from Edinburgh, and now confined to the after- 
 mentioned island of the Hebrides. Then followed Lady 
 
THE STEWARD ON HIS ROUNDS. 153 
 
 Carse's signature and that of the minister, with the date. 
 
 " It will do ! It will do ! " exclaimed Mrs. Ruthven. 
 "My dear, dear Lady Carse " 
 
 But Lady Carse turned away, and paced the room. 
 
 "I don't wonder, I am sure," declared Mrs. Ruthven, 
 " I don't wonder that you walk up and down. To think 
 
 what may hang on this night Now, take my arm, — let 
 
 me support you." 
 
 And she put her arm around the waist of her dear friend. 
 But Lady Carse shook her off, turned weeping to Annie, and 
 sobbed out, 
 
 " If you save me If this is all sincere in you, and " 
 
 " Sincere ! " exclaimed Annie, in such surprise that she 
 almost dropped the ball. 
 
 " O yes, yes ; it is all right, and you are an angel to me. 
 I " 
 
 " What- an amiable creature she is ! " said Mrs. Ruthven 
 to her husband, gazing on Lady. Carse. "What noble im- 
 pulses she has ! " 
 
 " Very fine impulses," declared the minister. " It is very 
 affecting. I find myself much moved." And he began 
 pacing up and down. 
 
 " Sincere ! " Annie repeated to herself in the same 
 surprise. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " observed Mrs. Ruthven, in a whisper, which, 
 
 however, the widow heard : " how long it takes for some 
 
 people to know some other people. There is Mrs. Fleming, 
 
 11 
 
154 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 now, all perplexed about the dear creature. Why, she knew 
 her ; I mean, she had her with her before we ever saw her, 
 
 and now we know her Oh ! how well, how thoroughly 
 
 we know her — we know her to the bottom of her heart." 
 
 "A most transparent being, indeed!" declared Mr. 
 Ruthven. " As guileless as a child." 
 
 " Call me a child ; you may,'' sobbed Lady Carse. " None 
 but children and such as I quarrel with their best friends. 
 She has been to me " 
 
 " You reproach yourself too severely, my dear lady," de- 
 clared the minister. "There are seasons of inequality in 
 us all; not that I intend to justify " 
 
 His wife did not wait for the end, but said, 
 
 "Quarrel, my dear soul? Quarrel with your best friends ! 
 You do such a thing ! Let us see whether you ever quarrel 
 with us ; and we are friends, are we not ; you and we ? Let 
 us see whether you ever quarrel with us ! Ah ! " 
 
 Annie had finished her work ; and she was gone before 
 the long kiss of the new friends was over. 
 
 "It is only two days more to the sabbath," thought she. 
 Then she smiled, and said, "Anyone might call me a child, 
 counting the days as if I could not wait for my treat. But, 
 really, I did not know what the comfort of the sabbath 
 would be. The chapel is all weather-tight now ; and thank 
 God for sending us a minister ! " 
 
 As all expected, up came the steward; very early and 
 very angry. Nobody from the minister's house cared to 
 
THE STEWARD ON HIS ROUNDS. 155 
 
 HE THREW THE LETTERS DOWN UPON THE THRESHOLD. 
 
iS6 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 encounter him. He threw the letters down upon the thres- 
 hold of the door, and shouted out that his bringing them 
 back was more than the writer deserved. If he had read 
 them, and made mischief of their contents, nobody could, 
 under the circumstances, have blamed him. Here they 
 were, however, as a lesson to the family not to lose their 
 time, and waste their precious ink and paper in writing 
 letters that would never leave the island. 
 
 As he was turning to go away, the widow opened her 
 door, and asked if he would excuse her for troubling him 
 with one little commission which she had not thought of 
 the day before, and she produced the ball of thread. 
 
 Lady Carse was watching through a chink in a shutter. 
 She saw the steward's countenance relax, and heard his 
 voice soften as he spoke to the widow. She perceived that 
 Annie had iofluence with him, if she would use it faithfully 
 and zealously. Next she observed the care with which he 
 wrote in his note book Annie's directions about her com- 
 mission, and how he deposited the precious ball in his 
 securest pocket. She felt that this chance of escape, though 
 somewhat precarious, was the best that had yet occurred. 
 
 Before the steward was out of sight she opened the 
 shutter, though it creaked perilously, and kissed her hand 
 to the surprised Annie, who was watching her agent down 
 the hill. Annie smiled, but secured caution by immediately 
 going in. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 TRUE SOLITUDE. 
 
 The season advanced, bringing the due toliens of the 
 
 approach of summer. The gales came from the east instead 
 
 of the west, and then subsided into mild airs. The mists 
 
 which had brooded over sea and land melted away, and, as 
 
 the days lengthened, permitted the purple heights of the 
 
 rocky St. Kilda to be seen clear and sharp, as the sun went 
 
 down behind them. The weed which had blackened the 
 
 shore of the island at the end of winter was now gone from 
 
 the silver sands. Sortie of it was buried in the minister's 
 
 garden as manure. The minister began to have hopes of 
 
 his garden. He had done his best to keep off the salt spray 
 
 by building the wall ten feet high ; and it was thought that 
 
 just under the wall a few cabbages might grow ; and in one 
 
 corner there was an experiment going forward to raise 
 
 onions. Kate and Adam told the widow, from day to day, 
 
 the hopes and fears of the household about this garden; and 
 
 it was then that she knew that her son Rollo was now 
 
 gardener, as he had been head builder of the wall. 
 
 From Rollo himself she heard less and less of his pro. 
 ceedings and interests. Anxious as she was, she abstained 
 from questioning or reproving him on the few occasions 
 when he spent an hour with her. She y^as aware of his high 
 
 157 
 
,158 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 opinion of himself, and of the point he made of managing 
 his own affairs; and she knew that there were those next 
 door who would certainly engross him if anything "passed in 
 his mother's house to make him reluctant to stay there. 
 She therefore mustered all her cheerfulness when he 
 appeared on the threshold, gave him her confidence, made 
 him as comfortable as she could, and never asked him 
 whence he had come, or how long he would stay. She had 
 a strong persuasion that Rollo would discover in time who 
 was his best friend, and was supremely anxious that when 
 that time came there should be nothing to get over in his 
 return to her — no remembrance of painful scenes — no sting 
 of reproach — no shame but sucli as he must endure from his 
 own heart. Strong as was her confidence in the final issue, 
 the time did seem long to her yearning spirit, lonely as she 
 was. Many a night she listened to the melancholy song of 
 the throstle from the hill side, and watched the mild twilight 
 without thinking of sleep, till was silent ; and was still awake 
 when the lark began its merry greeting to the dawn which 
 was streaking the east. Many a day she sat in the sun 
 watching the pathways by which she hoped her son might 
 come to her; and then perhaps she would hear his laugh 
 from behind the high garden wall, and discover that he had 
 been close at hand all day without having a word to say to her. 
 How many true and impressive things passed through her 
 mind that she thought she would say to him ! But they all 
 remained unsaid. When the opportunity came she saw it tc 
 
TRUE SOLITUDE. 159 
 
 be her duty to serve him by waiting and loving, feeling and 
 trusting that rebuke from God was the only shock which 
 would effectually reach this case, and reserving herself as 
 the consoler of the sinner when that hour should arrive. 
 
 As for the other parties, they were far too busy — far too 
 much devoted to each other to have any time to spare for 
 her, or any thought, except when the children were wished 
 out of the way, or when the much more ardent desire was 
 indulged that her house could be had for the residence of 
 Lady Carse and her maid. In spite of all the assurances 
 given to Lady Carse that her presence and friendship were 
 an unmixed blessing, the fact remained that the household 
 were sadly crowded in the new dwelling. There was talk, 
 at times, of getting more rooms built : but then there 
 entered in a vague hope that the widow's house might be 
 obtained, which would be everything pleasant and con- 
 venient. At those times she was thought of, but more and 
 more as an obstruction — almost an intruder. Now and 
 then, when she startled them by some little act of kindness, 
 they remarked that she was a good creature, they believed, 
 though they considered that there was usually something 
 dangerous about people so very reserved and unsociable. 
 
 One day this reserved and unsociable person volunteered 
 a visit to her astonished neighbours. She walked in, in the 
 afternoon, looking rather paler than usual, and somewhat 
 exhausted. Mr. Ruthven was outside the door, smoking 
 his pipe after dinner. He came in with the widow, and 
 
i6o THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 •placed a stool for her. His wife was not in the room. 
 Lady Carse was lying on the settle, flushed and apparently 
 drowsy. She opened her eyes as Annie and the minister 
 entered, and then half-dosed them again, without stirring. 
 
 " Yes, I have been walking," said the widow, in answer to 
 Mr. Ruthven's observation. "But it is not that that has 
 tired me. I have been only as far as Macdonald's. But, 
 sir, I must go further to-night, unless I can interest you to 
 do what must be done without loss of time." 
 
 The minister raised his eyebrows, and looked inquiringly. 
 " I have learned, sir, tTiat from this house invitations have 
 been sent to smugglers to begin a trade with these islands, 
 and that it is about to begin ; and that this has been done 
 by corrupting my son. I see well enough the object of this. 
 I see that Lady Carse hopes to escape to the main by a 
 smuggling vessel coming to this coast. I can enter into this. 
 
 I do not wonder at any effort the poor lady makes " 
 
 " You insufferable woman ! " cried Lady Carse, starting 
 up from her half-sleep with a glowing face and a clenched 
 hand. " Do you dare to pity me ? " 
 
 " I do, madam : and I ask of you in return — I implore 
 you to pity me. This is the bitterest day to me since that 
 v.'hich made my boy fatherless. I have this day discovered 
 
 that my fatherless boy has been corrupted by those who " 
 
 " I do not approve of innuendo," declared Mr. Ruthven. 
 " I recommend you to name names." 
 "Certainly, sir. My son has been made a smuggler by 
 
TRUE SOLITUDE. i6i 
 
 the persuasion and management of Lady Carse ; and, as I 
 have reason to believe, sir, with your knowledge." 
 
 " Here is treacheiy ! " cried Lady Carse. " We must 
 
 make our part good. I will 1 know how " 
 
 She was hastening out, when the minister stopped her at 
 the door. She made some resistance, and Annie heard her 
 say something about a pistol on the top of the bed, and the 
 wonder if her father's daughter did not know how to use it. 
 
 Even in the midst of hev own grief, Annie could not but 
 remark to herself how the lady's passions seemed to grow 
 more violent, instead of calming down. 
 
 "You had better go, Mrs. Fleming," said Mr. Ruthven. 
 " Make no disturbance here, but go, and I will come in and 
 speak to you." 
 
 " How soon ? " Annie anxiously enquired- 
 
 " As soon as possible — immediately. Go now, for Lady 
 Carse is very angry." 
 
 "I will, sir. But I owe it to you to tell you that the 
 adventure is put an end to. I have been to Macdonald's 
 and told him, speaking as Rollo's mother, of the danger 
 my son was in ; and Macdonald will take care that no 
 smuggling vessel reaches this coast tonight or in future." 
 
 "Go instantly!" exclaimed Mr. Ruthven, and, seeing 
 Lady Carse's countenance, Annie was glad to hasten out of 
 her reach. 
 
 The widow sat down on the threshold of her cottage 
 awaiting the minister. Her heart throbbed. A blessing 
 
1 62 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 might be in store at the end of this weary day. Good 
 might come out of evil. She might now have an oppor- 
 tunity of appealing to her minister — of opening her heart to 
 him about the cares which she needed to share with him, 
 and which should have been his cares as pastor. She 
 trusted she should be enabled to speak freely and calmly. 
 
 ANNIE CLASPED HliK HANDS ON HER KNEES, AND LOOKED MEEKLY 
 IN HIS FACE. 
 
 She prayed that she might ; but her body was exhausted, so 
 that she could not overcome to her satisfaction the agitation 
 of her mind. It did not mend the matter that she was 
 kept waiting very long ; and when Mr. Ruthven came out 
 at his own door, it was with some difficulty that Annie rose 
 to make respectful way for him. 
 
TRUE SOLITUDE. 163 
 
 " Be seated," said Mr. Ruthven, in a tone of severity ; " I 
 have much to say to you.'' 
 
 Both seated themselves. Mr. Ruthven cleared his throat, 
 and said — 
 
 "It is the most painful part of a pastor's duty to ad- 
 minister reproof, and more especially to members of his 
 flock whose years should have brought them wisdom and 
 self-control." 
 
 Annie clasped her hands on her knees, and looked 
 meekly in his face. 
 
 " I should have hoped," Mr. Ruthven went on, " that a 
 Christian woman of your standing, and one who is blest, as 
 you yourself have been known to acknowledge, with a life 
 of peace, would have had compassion on a most suffering 
 sister, and have rather striven to alleviate her sorrows, and 
 to soften her occasional self-reproach for what she amiably 
 calls her infirmities of sensibility, than have wounded and 
 upbraided her, and treacherously cut off her frail chance of 
 release from a most unjust captivity." 
 
 " I ! — I wound and upbraid Lady Carse ! " 
 
 " Now, do not compel me to remind you of what you 
 ought to know full well — the deceitfulness of the human 
 heart. Listen to me." 
 
 Again Annie looked gently in his face. 
 "I left that poor lady, already overwhelmed with mis- 
 fortune, prostrated anew. by your attack of this afternoon. 
 I left her dissolved in tears — shaken by agitation; and I 
 
i64 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 resloved that my first act of duty should be to remonstrate 
 privately — observe, I say privately — against the heartless- 
 ness which could pour in drops of bitterness to make the 
 already brimming cup overflow. Now, what have you to 
 say ? " 
 
 " I should wish to know, sir, what part of my conduct it 
 is that is wrong. If I knew this, I am sure " 
 
 " If you knew ! My good woman, this bhndness and 
 self-satisfaction appear to show that this life of peace, which 
 you yourself acknowledge yours has been, has gone some- 
 what too far — has not been altogether blessed to you. If 
 you are really so satisfied with yourself as to be unable to 
 see any sin within you " 
 
 " Oh, sir ! Do not think me impatient if I make haste to 
 say that I never harboured such a thought. It makes me 
 sink with shame to think of my ever having possibly such a 
 thought. What I asked for, sir, was to know my sin towards 
 Lady Carse, that I might make reparation if I could, and — 
 will it please you, sir, to tell me " 
 
 " Tell me, rather, what sin you are conscious of; and we 
 shall then get at the bottom of this last offence. Come, let 
 me hear ! " 
 
 Annie looked down, hesitated, blushed deeply, and said 
 she supposed it was owing to her not being accustomed to 
 the blessing of having a pastor that she found it so difficult 
 to open her heart now that the blessing was given for which 
 she had so often prayed. She would strive to overcome the 
 
TRUE SOLITUDE. 165 
 
 difficulty. After a pause she said her chief trouble about 
 her state of mind was that some of her trust and peace 
 seemed to have left her. 
 
 " Ah ! the moment it is put to the test ! " said Mr. 
 Ruthven. 
 
 " Just so, sir ; that is what I said to myself. As long as 
 I lived alone, out of the sound of any voice but Rollo's, I 
 thought my peace was settled, and that I was only waiting 
 for the better peace which is to come hereafter. Then, 
 when Rollo was away, and my mind was searching doubt- 
 fully after him, where he might be, and whether safe or 
 killed, I could always find rest, and say to myself that he 
 was in God's hand, to die now or to live to close my eyes. 
 But now, sir, there is a sadness come over me ; though I am 
 obliged to your dear children for many cheerful hours — I 
 would not forget that. But as for my own child, when I 
 hear his voice merry from behind your garden wall, when I 
 have been longing for days to see his face — or when your 
 children tell me things that he has said, just while my ear is 
 pining for his voice, I find myself less. settled in mind than 
 I was — much less settled, sir, than I think a Christian 
 woman ought to be." 
 
 "And this indicates more than you tell me," observed 
 Mr. Ruthven. " What can you have done to drive your son 
 from his home and from his mother's side ? Some mistake 
 there must be, to say the very least — some fatal mistake, I will 
 call it, for I would not be severe — some awful mistake. Eh ? " 
 
i66 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 " Perhaps so, sir." And she smothered a sigh. 
 
 The minister then gave her, at some length, his views on 
 education, insisting much on the duty of making young 
 people happy at home ; ending with saying that no young 
 man could, he thought, expect much comfort in the society 
 of a mother who could be so reckless of anybody's peace as 
 she had shewn herself that afternoon. He hoped she would 
 take what he said in good part. It v/as not pleasant to him 
 to deal rebuke • but he must not shrink from it ; and he 
 rose to go. 
 
 " Certainly, sir," said Annie, rising too, and holding by 
 the bed to steady herself. " But, sir, if you would please to 
 tell me particularly what you think I have done so wrong 
 
 to-day Sir, you would not have me let my son be made 
 
 a sfnuggler ? " 
 
 "You should Nothing can be clearer than that you 
 
 should 1 wonder you need to be told that you should 
 
 have spoken to me. Instead of which, you went quietly and 
 told Macdonald." 
 
 " I am sure, sir, I thought you knew all about it." 
 
 " What of that ? I am here at hand, to be your adviser — 
 not to be treated with disrespect. I leave you now to think 
 over what I have said. I trust the result will be that you 
 will make what reparation you can to Lady Carse : though 
 it is foolish to talk of reparation ; for the mischief done is, 
 I fear, irreparable. I leave you to think of this. Good 
 evening ! " 
 
TRUE SOLITUDE. 167 
 
 Annie thought of all that had passed ; and of a few other 
 things. She thought that while it was clear that a pastor 
 might take a wrong view of the state of mind and conduct 
 of one of his flock, it was a privilege to know, at least, what 
 view he took. He was faithful, as far as plain speaking 
 went : and that was much. And then, it is so rarely that 
 any censure is uttered for which there is absolutely no foun- 
 dation, that it is usually profitable to receive it. While feel- 
 ing that " it is a small thing to be judged of man's judgment," 
 it may be a great thing to know a man's unfavourable 
 opinion of us. She would soon recover from this conversa- 
 tion ; and then, if she had obtained any wisdom from it, it 
 ■would be, after all, the marking blessing of this day. She 
 was not aware of another : that Mr. Ruthven had been 
 somewhat touched by what she had said of Rollo — his eyes 
 somewhat opened. 
 
 Once more her mind rested on the idea now become so 
 prominent with her. " The sabbath is coming round again," 
 she thought. " It pleases God to give us a complete bless- 
 ing then. It is His word that is spoken then — His judgment 
 that we are judged by. Nothing comes between us and Him 
 then. There is always the sabbath now to think of." 
 
 Tired as she was, or as she thought herself till she found 
 herself enjoying the repose of the moonlight shore, there 
 was one more walk necessary before Annie could try to sleep. 
 
 The sea was calm, and there was scarcely any wind. If 
 the smuggling vessel had approached the island in any part. 
 
i68 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 it could hardly have got away again. She had not seen it 
 from her hill-side ; but she must be satisfied that it was not 
 on the northern shore. The western was safe enough, from 
 its being overlooked from Macdonald's farm. 
 
 Annie had just reached the longest and widest stretch of 
 beach when the large moon rose out of the still waters. 
 There was not even the slightest veil of mist obscuring the 
 horizon ; and the fluctuation of the water-line was distinct 
 upon the clear disk of the moon. The gush of quivering 
 light which instantaneously reached from the horizon to her 
 feet illumined Annie's heart no less than the scene around 
 her. The ripple of the little waves which played upon the 
 pebbles was music to her ear. In a tranquil and hopeful 
 spirit she thought of her errand, and looked steadily over 
 the whole expanse of the sea, where, under the broad moon- 
 light, and a sky which had at this season no darkness in it, 
 there was certainly no vessel in sight. 
 
 Pursuing her walk northwards, she perceived a' small dark 
 object lying on the silvery sands. When she reached it, she 
 found it was a little cask, which the smell declared to 
 contain rum. By the smell, and the cask being light, it was 
 clear that some of the spirit had been spilled. Annie found 
 a small hole, beside which lay a quill. She feared that this 
 told too plainly of the neighbourhood of smugglers, and her 
 heart sunk. She went on, and immediately saw another 
 dark object lying on the beach — a person, as she thought. 
 It was a woman, in the common country clothing, sound 
 
TRUE SOLITUDE. 169 
 
 asleep. Annie hastened to wake her, thinking it unsafe to 
 sleep under the moon's rays. To her extreme surprise she 
 found it was Lady Carse. 
 
 She could imagine the lady to have come down in hope 
 of meeting a smuggling vessel. She would not have won- 
 dered to meet her wandering among the coves.; but that on 
 such an errand, at such a time, she should be asleep) was 
 surprising. 
 
 Annie tried gentle means to rouse her, which would 
 enable her to slip away as the lady awoke, sparing her the 
 pain of her presence. She rattled the pebbles with her foot, 
 coughed, and at last sang — but all without causing the lady 
 to stir, Then the widow was alarmed, and stooped to look 
 closer. The sleeper breathed heavily, her head was hot, 
 and her breath told the secret of her unseasonable drowsiness. 
 Annie shrank back in horror. At first she concluded that 
 much of Lady Carse's violent passion was now accounted 
 for. But she presently considered it more probable that this 
 was a single instance of intemperance, caused by the 
 temptation of finding a leaking cask of spirit on the sands, 
 just in a moment of disappointment, and perhaps of great 
 exhaustion. This thought made Annie clear what to do. 
 
 She went back to the cask, made the hole larger with a 
 stone, and poured out all the rum upon the sand. The cask 
 was now so light that she could easily roll it down to the 
 margin of the tide, where she left it, half full of sea-water. 
 Having thus made all safe behind her, she proceeded to the 
 
 12 
 
170 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 coves, where she found, not any signs of a vessel, but one of 
 Macdonald's men on the watch. From him she learned 
 that Macdonald had gone out to look for the smuggling 
 boat ; had seen it, and turned it back ; and that the 
 smuggling crew had been obliged to throw overboard some 
 of their cargo to lighten their vessel for flight. Macdonald 
 thought they would hardly venture hither again for some 
 time to come. This was good news j but there was better ; 
 RoUo was not with the smugglers. He was out fowling this 
 afternoon. Perhaps by this time he might be at home. 
 
 Annie's errand was finished; and she might now return 
 and rest. Macdonald's man spoke of his hope of some 
 goods being washed up by the next tide. Annie told him 
 nothing of the cask, nor of what she had done with the rum. 
 She commended him to his watch, and left him. 
 
 Lady Carse was still sleeping, but less heavily. She 
 roused herself when spoken to, started up, and looked about 
 her, somewhat bewildered 
 
 " I took the liberty, madam, of speaking to you, to waken 
 you," said Annie; "because the moon is up, and was 
 shining on your head, which is considered bad for the 
 health." 
 
 "Really,'' said Lady Carsc, '''it is very odd. I don't 
 know how I could think of falling asleep here. I suppose I 
 was very tired." 
 
 " You look so now, madam. Better finish your sleep at 
 home. And first, if I may advise you, you will throw some 
 
TRUE SOLITUDE. 171 
 
 salt water on your head, and drink some fresh at the spring, 
 when we come to it. The people here say that bathing the 
 head takes away the danger from sleeping under the moon's 
 rays." 
 
 Lady Carse had no objection to do this, as her head was 
 hot ; and now Annie hoped that she would escape detection 
 by the Ruthvens, so that she alone would know the secret- 
 Botli drank at the spring, and after that it might be hoped 
 that there would be little more smell of spirits about the one 
 than the other. 
 
 When they passed the cask, now beginning to float in the 
 rising tide. Lady Carse started. It was clear that she now 
 remembered what had made her sleep. " There is a cask ! " 
 said she, in her hurry. 
 
 "Yes, a cask of sea-water," Annie quietly observed. "I 
 emptied out the bad stuff that was in it, and " 
 
 " You did ! What right had you ? " 
 
 " It was contraband," said Annie, " Macdonald saw the 
 cargo thrown over : nobody would have claimed it, and 
 plenty would have helped themselves to what is unfit to 
 drink. So I poured it out upon the sand." 
 
 "Very free and easy, I must say," observed Lady 
 Carse. 
 
 "Very," Annie agreed; "but less of a liberty than some 
 
 would have taken, if I had left it to tempt them. I threw 
 
 away only what is some man's unlawful property. Others 
 
 would have thrown away that which belongs to God, and is 
 
 12—2 
 
172 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 very precious in His eyes — the human reason, which he has 
 made but a little lower than the glory of the angels." 
 
 Lady Carse spoke no more — :not even when they reached 
 their own doors. Whether she was moody or conscience- 
 stricken, Armie could not tell. All the more anxious was 
 she to do her part ; and she went in to pray that the suffer- 
 ing lady might be saved from this new peril — the most 
 fearful of the snares of her most perilous life. Annie did 
 not forget to pray that those who had driven the sufferer to 
 such an extremity as that she could not resist even this 
 means of forgetting her woes, might be struck with such a 
 sense of their cruelty as to save their victim before it was 
 too late. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 helsa's news. 
 
 One day when Annie was trimming her lamp, she observed 
 Helsa, Lady Carse's maid, watching the process earnestly 
 from the door, where she was looking in. " Come in, 
 Helsa," said the widow, in Gaelic, which was more familiar 
 to the girl than English. " Come in, if you have nothing 
 better to do than to see me trim my lamp." 
 
 " I am afraid about that lamp, and that is the truth," 
 replied Helsa. " I had charge of a lamp at Macdonald's 
 once, when my mother went to the main for a week ; but 
 then, if it went out, nobody was much the worse. If this 
 one goes out, and anybody drowns in the harbour, and the 
 blame is mine, what shall I do ? " 
 
 " The blame yours 1 " said the widow, looking at her. 
 
 " Yes ; when you live at Macdonald's, and I have to keep 
 the lamp. I am not sure that I can keep awake all the 
 night when winter comes : but they say I must." 
 
 Helsa was surprised to find that the widow knew nothing 
 of the plan that Lady Carse now talked of more than any- 
 thing else : that Annie was to go and live at Macdonald's, 
 that Lady Carse and her maid might have the widow's house, 
 where Helsa was to do all the work in the day, and to keep 
 
 173 
 
174 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 the lamp at night. The girl declared that the family never 
 sat at meals without talking of the approaching time when 
 they could all have more room and do whatever they 
 pleased. Adam had cried yesterday about the widow going 
 away ; but he had been forbidden to cry about what would 
 make Lady Carse so much happier; and when Kate had 
 whispered to him that Lady Carse would no longer live in ' 
 their house, Adam had presently dried his tears, and began 
 to plan how he would meet the widow sometimes on the 
 western sands, to pick up the fine shells she had told him 
 of. Helsa went on to say that she could have cried longer 
 than the boy, for she was afraid to think of being alone with 
 
 Lady Carse at times when " 
 
 Annie interrupted her by saying, with a smile, 
 " You need not have any dread of living in this house, 
 Helsa. I have no thought of leaving it. There is some 
 mistake.'' 
 
 Helsa was delighted with this assurance. But she proved 
 her point — that the mistake was not hers— that such a plan 
 was daily, almost hourly, spoken of next door as settled. 
 She was going on to tell how her mistress frightened her by 
 her ways ; her being sleepy in the afternoons, unless she was 
 very merry or dreadfully passionate, and so low in the 
 mornings that she often did little but cry; but the widow 
 checked this. While at Mrs. Ruthven's house Helsa should 
 make no complaints to anybody else ; or, if she had serious 
 complaints to make, it should be to Macdonald. Helsa 
 
HELSA'S NEWS. 175 
 
 pleaded that Macdonald would then perhaps take away the 
 anker of spirits, as being at the bottom of the mischief; and 
 then Lady Carse would kill her. She had once shown her 
 a pistol ; but nobody could find that pistol now. Helsa 
 laughed, and looked as if she could have told where it was. 
 In a moment, however, she was grave enough, hearing her- 
 self called by her mistress, 
 
 " I shall say I came to learn about the lamp," said she ; 
 "and that is true, you know." 
 
 "Why do not you speak English, both of you?" de- 
 manded Lady Carse from the door. "You both speak 
 English. I will have no mysteries. I will know what you 
 were saying." 
 
 Helsa faltered out that she came to see how Widow 
 Fleming managed her lamp. 
 
 " Was it about the lamp that you were talking ? I will 
 know." 
 
 " If we had any objection, madam, to your knowing what 
 we were saying," interposed Annie, " we are by no means 
 bound to tell. But you are quite welcome to it. I have 
 been assuring Helsa that there is some mistake about my 
 leaving this house. Here have I lived, and here I hope to 
 die." 
 
 " We must talk that matter over," declared Lady Carse. 
 "We are so crowded next door that we can bear it no 
 longer; and I must live in sight of the harbour, you 
 know." 
 
176 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 And she went over all the old arguments, while she sent 
 Helsa to bring in Mr. Ruthven, that he might add hi3 
 pastoral authority to her claims. After having once declared 
 herself immovable, Annie bore all in silence ; the pleas 
 that her lamp was so seldom wanted ; that it would be well 
 tended for her, while she could sleep all night, and every 
 night ; that it had become a passion with Lady Carse to 
 obtain this house, and that anyone was an enemy who denied 
 her the only thing she could enjoy. These pleas Annie 
 listened to in silence, and then to reproaches on her selfish- 
 ness, her obstinacy, her malice and cruelty. When both her 
 visitors had exhausted their arguments, she turned to Lady 
 Carse, and intimated that now they had all spoken their 
 minds on this subject, she wished to be alone in her own 
 house. Then she turned to Mr. Ruthven, and told him 
 that whatever he had to say as her pastor, she would gladly 
 listen to. 
 
 " In some other place than this," he declared with severity. 
 " I have tried rebuke and remonstrance here, beside your 
 own hearth, with a perseverance which I fear has lowered the 
 dignity of my office. I have done. I enter this house no 
 more as your pastor." 
 
 Annie bowed her head, and remained standing till they 
 were gone ; then she sank down, melting into tears. 
 
 " This, then," and her heart swelled at the thought ; " this, 
 then, is the end of my hope — the brightest hope I ever had 
 since my great earthly hope was extinguished ! I thought I 
 
HELSA'S NEWS. 177 
 
 could bear anything if there was only a pastor at hand. And 
 
 now but there is my duty still ; nothing can take that 
 
 away. And I am forgetting that at this very moment, when 
 I have so little else left ! crying in this way when I want 
 better eyes than mine are now for watching the sea. I have 
 shed too many tears in my day; more than a trusting 
 Christian woman should ; and now I must keep my eyes dry 
 and my heart firm for my duty. And I cannot see that I 
 have done any wrong in staying by the duty that God gave 
 me, and the house that I must do it in. With this house 
 
 and God's house " And her thoughts recurred, as 
 
 usual, to the blessing of the sabbath. She should still have 
 a pastor in God's house, if not in her own. And thus she 
 cheered her heart while she bathed her eyes that they might 
 serve for her evening gaze over the sea. 
 
 She was destined, however, to be overtaken by dismay on 
 the sabbath, and in that holy house where she had supposed 
 her peace could never be disturbed. The pastor read and 
 preached from the passage in the i8th chapter of Matthew, 
 which enjoins remonstrance with sinners, first in private, then 
 in the presence of one or two witnesses, and at last before 
 the church. The passage was read so emphatically that 
 Annie's heart beat thick and fast. But this did not prepare 
 her for what followed. In his sermon the pastor explained 
 that though the scriptural expression was, " If thy brother 
 trespass," the exhortation was equally applicable to any 
 Christian sister who should offend. He declared that if any 
 
1 78 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 Christian sister was present who was conscious of having 
 trespassed on the comfort and natural feelings of an afflicted 
 and persecuted personage whom they had the honour to 
 entertain among them, he besought the offending sister to 
 enquire of herself whether she had not been rebuked first 
 alone, then in the presence of a witness — alas ! in vain ; and 
 whether, therefore, the time had not come for a rebuke 
 before the Church. He would, however, name no one, but 
 leave yet some place for repentance ; and so forth. 
 
 Annie's natural dismay, terrible as it was, soon yielded 
 before the appeal to her conscience, which the pastor 
 supposed would appal her. She knew that she was right ; 
 and in this knowledge she raised her bowed head, and 
 listened more calmly than many others. If there had been 
 any doubt among the small congregation as to who was 
 meant, Lady Carse would have dispersed it. She sat in the 
 front row, with the minister's family. Unable to restrain 
 her vindictive satisfaction, she started up and pointed with 
 her finger, and nodded at Annie. The pitying calm gaze 
 with which Annie returned the insult went to many hearts, 
 and even to Mrs. Ruthven's so far so that she pulled the 
 lady by the skirt, and implored her to sit down. 
 
 There are many precious things which remain always 
 secrets to those who do not deserve to know them. For 
 instance, tyrants know nothing of the animating and delicious 
 reaction which they cause in the souls of their victims. The 
 cheerfulness, sweetness and joy of their victims has ever 
 
BE ISA'S NEWS. i-jg 
 
 been, and will ever be, a perplexity to oppressors. It 
 was so now to Mr. Ruthven, after an act of tyranny perpe- 
 trated, as most acts of tyranny are, under a mistaken, an 
 ignorant and arrogant sense of duty. Not only did the 
 widow stand up with others for the closing psalm — her 
 voice was the firmest, sweetest, clearest in the assembly — so 
 sweet and clear that it came back even upon her own ear 
 with a sort of surprise. As for others, all were more or 
 less moved. But their emotion had the common effect 
 of making them draw back from the object of it. After 
 the service, nobody spoke to Annie. She heeded this 
 but little, absorbed as she was in thankfulness in finding 
 that the privileges of God's house were not disturbed — 
 that her relation to Him and her rights of worship were 
 not touched by any fallibiHty in His minister. As she 
 reached the entrance of the churchyard, Macdonald over- 
 took her, and made her use his arm for the descent 
 of the irregular steps. A few words from Helsa had put 
 him in possession of the case. He desired the widow not 
 to think for a moment of leaving her house. Everybody 
 wished to do what could be done to reconcile the stranger 
 lady to her abode in the island ; but there was a point be- 
 yond which he was sure Sir Alexander would not permit en- 
 croachment. His advice was to serve and please her in 
 small affairs, and leave it to Sir Alexander to deal with her 
 in such an important one as her having a house to herself. 
 Annie smiled, and said this was exactly her plan. 
 
i8o THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 That evening was, to the inhabitants of the island, the 
 most memorable one of the year — of the generation — of the 
 century. This was not fully known at the time. The 
 most memorable days often appear just like other days till 
 they are past ; and though there was some excitement and 
 bustle this evening, no one on the island saw the full mean- 
 ing of what w before his eyes. 
 
 A little before sunset, the widow plainly saw a larger 
 vessel than often visited those seas approaching from the 
 south-west. It was larger than Macdonald's sloop. She 
 was straining her eyes to see whether it had two masts or 
 three, when she heard the children's voices below. -She 
 called them up to her platform for the help of their young 
 eyes ; but when they came, they could spare little attention 
 for the distant vessel, so full were they of the news that their 
 mother had run down to the harbour to try to speak to some 
 sailors who had landed from a boat which had come up the 
 harbour while everybody was at church. It was such a pity 
 that their father was gone, just at this time, to visit a sick 
 person at Macdonald's farm ! But their mother went di- 
 rectly, as fast as she could run, and Lady Carse and Helsa 
 were to follow her as soon as Helsa had put up a bundle. 
 
 To recall Mr. Ruthven was the first thing Annie thought 
 of. She did not venture to send the children over for him, 
 lest their hurry and excitement, or any air of mystery, should 
 give the alarm to Macdonald. She set out alone, doubtful 
 as she was how and how soon she could accomplish the 
 
HELSA'S NEWS. i8i 
 
 walk, and bitterly lamenting that her son was not within call. 
 With her best exertions, her progress was so slow that she 
 met the pastor a quarter of a mile from Macdonald's house. 
 
 Breathless as she was, Mr. Ruthven would have from her 
 a full, true, and particular account of all she knew, and many 
 declarations that she did not know as much again, before he 
 v/ould walk on. At last, however, he did set forth quickly 
 on the shortest path to the harbour, while Annie turned 
 slowly homewards over the ridge. 
 
 She was on the hill-side, not far from home, when she saw 
 the well-known group of neighbours — the pastor's family — 
 coming homewards, slowly and with many delays. She 
 heard loud angry voices j and when she approached^ she 
 saw tokens of distress in them all. Mr. Ruthven was very 
 pale, and Helsa very red. Mrs. Ruthven was in tears, and 
 Lady Carse's clothes and hair were dripping wet. It was 
 clear that she had been in the water. 
 
 "Alas ! you have missed the boat ! " exclaimed Annie. 
 
 Lady Carse had just lost the chance of escape, as all 
 believed; and all were now quarrelling as to whose 
 fault it was. Mrs. Ruthven was turning back from 
 the shore, breathless from haste and vexation, as Lady 
 Carse and Helsa came down. The boat, with several 
 armed men in it, had pushed off when Mrs. Ruthven 
 appeared. They made no reply to her signs, but lay on 
 their oars at a little distance from the beach till Lady 
 Carse and her maid came down, After some delay, and 
 
i82 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 many signals of entreaty from the ladies, the boat again 
 approached, and the man in command of it was told that a 
 lady of quality, wrongfully imprisoned in this island, desired 
 to be carried to the main, and that, once among her friends 
 in Edinburgh, she could give rewards for her escape to any 
 amount. There was a short consultation in the boat, a 
 laugh, and a decisive pull to shore. A sailor jumped out 
 and seized the lady to carry her in. Whether it was the 
 unaccountable shout of triumph that she set up, or some- 
 thing else that startled the sailor, he hastily set down his 
 burden on the rock, looked her in the face, and then spoke 
 to his comrades in the boat. They laughed again, but 
 beckoned him on. He placed her in the boat, but she 
 stumbled, swayed over, caught at the side of the boat as she 
 went over, and very nearly upset it. The men swore at her, 
 declared her to be no lady in distress, but a tipsy gipsy, laid 
 her down on the shore, and rowed away. Mr. Ruthven 
 now declared that he could do nothing in such a case. 
 Lady Carse, now sobered from everything but passion, 
 protested that if he had had any sense or presence of mind, 
 he might have detained the strangers till she could produce 
 from her package proof of her rank and quality. If the 
 wranglers could but have known who these strangers were, 
 and whence came the distant vessel to which their boat 
 belonged, all would have joined in thanksgiving for the 
 lady's escape from their hands. 
 
 Annie had no more suspicion of the truth than they, 
 
HELSA'S NEWS. 
 
 183 
 
1 84 THE BILLOW ANL> THE ROCK. 
 
 She could only attempt to calm them, and make the best 
 of matters by showing that possibly all might not be over 
 yet. It was now nearly dark. If she could light two lamps 
 for this once, it might bring back the boat. If the people 
 on board were famiHar with her light and its purpose, the 
 singular circumstance of its being double might attract their 
 curiosity ; if strangers, they might attend to the signal from 
 prudence. 
 
 Mr. Ruthven, being extremely cross, could see nothing 
 but nonsense in this plan. Lady Carse, being offended 
 with her friends, thought it the wisest and most promising 
 scheme conceivable. Mr. Ruthven woiild not hear of 
 spending a night down in the harbour, watching for a boat 
 which would never come. To ask such a thing of him 
 after his sabbath day's services, and all for a woman's freak, 
 was such a thjng as — as he would not describe. He could 
 not think of doing such a thing. Lady Carse said he was 
 no friend of hers if he did not. While Mrs. Ruthven 
 trembled and wept, Annie said that if she could only learn 
 where Rollo was, all would be easy. Rollo would watch in 
 the harbour, she was sure, 
 
 Mr. Ruthven caught at this suggestion for saving his 
 night's rest, and went off to seek Rollo j not so rapidly, 
 however, but that he heard the remark sent after him by 
 Lady Carse, that it was a pretty thing for a man to stand up 
 in his pulpit, where nobody could answer him, and lecture 
 people about Christian duty, and then to be outdone in the 
 
HELSA'S NEWS. 
 
 185 
 
 first trial by the first of his flock that came into comparison 
 with him. Annie could not bear to hear this. She desired 
 Helsa to assist Lady Carse to bed, that her clothes might 
 be speedily dried, in readiness for any sudden chance of 
 escape. 
 
 13 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ANNIES NEWS. 
 
 Dull and sad was the first meal at the Ruthvens' the next 
 morning. Lady Carse could eat nothing, having cried 
 herself ill, and being in feverish expectation still of some 
 news — she did not know what. Mr. Ruthven found fault 
 with the children so indefatigably, that they gulped down 
 their porridge and slipped out under Helsa's arm as she 
 opened the door, and away to the next house, where the 
 voice of scolding was never heard. The pastor next began 
 wondering whether RoUo was still playing the watchman in 
 the harbour — tired and hungry ; and he was proceeding to 
 wonder how a clever lad like Rollo could let himself be 
 made such a fool of by his mother, when Helsa cut short 
 the soliloquy by telling that Rollo was at home. He had 
 come up just now with the steward. 
 
 "The steward," cried Lady Carse, springing to her feet. 
 "I knew it! I see it all ! " And she wrung her hands. 
 
 " What is it ? my dear love, my precious friend, — what is 
 the matter ? Compose yourself ! " said Mrs. Ruthven, 
 soothingly. 
 
 But the lady would not hear of being soothed. It was 
 plain now that the distant vessel, the boat, the sailors, were 
 sent by her friends. If Mr. Ruthven had only been quick 
 
 186 
 
ANNIE'S NEWS. 187 
 
 enough to let them know who she was, she should by this 
 time have been safe. How could they suppose that she was 
 Lady Carse, dressed as she was, agitated as she was ! A 
 word from Mr. Ruthven, the least readiness on his part, 
 would have saved her. And now, here was the steward 
 come to baffle all. Sir Alexander Macdonald had had eyes 
 for her deliverers, though her nearest friends had none. 
 Annie was her best friend after all. It was Annie's ball of 
 thread, no doubt, that had roused her friends, and made 
 them send this vessel; and Annie alone had shown any 
 sense last night. 
 
 Mr. Ruthven did not understand or approve of very 
 sudden conversions ; and this was really a sudden con- 
 version, after pointing at the widow Fleming in church 
 yesterday. He ought to state too that he did not approve 
 of pointing at individuals in church. He should be sorry 
 that his children should learn the habit ; and 
 
 " You would ? " interrupted Lady Carse. " Then take 
 care I do not point at her next sabbath as the only friend I 
 have on this island." 
 
 "My dear creature !" said Mrs. Ruthven, "pray do not 
 
 say such severe things : you will break my heart. You do 
 
 the greatest injustice to our affection. Only let me show 
 
 you ! If this wicked steward prevents your escape now, I 
 
 will get away somehow, and tell your story to all the world : 
 
 and they shall send another vessel for you ; and I will come 
 
 with it, and take you away. I will indeed." 
 
 13 — 2 
 
i88 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear," said Lady Carse. 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear," said the pastor. 
 
 Lady Carse laughed at this accord. Mrs. Ruthven cried. 
 
 "If you get away," said Lady Carse, more gently, "you 
 may be sure you will not leave me behind." 
 
 "It is all nonsense, the whole of it, about this vessel and 
 the steward," Mr. Ruthven pronounced. " The steward 
 comes, as usual, for the feather-rent." 
 
 " It is not the season for the feather-rent," declared Lady 
 Carse. 
 
 "The steward comes when it suits his convenience," 
 decided the pastor; "the season is a matter of but 
 secondary regard." 
 
 " You are mistaken," said the lady. " I have lived here 
 longer than you ; and I know that he cqmes at the regular 
 seasons, and at no other time." 
 
 "Oh, here are the children," observed Mrs. Ruthven, 
 hoping to break up the party. " My dears, don't leave the 
 room ; I want you to stay beside me. There now, you may 
 each carry your own porridge-bowl into the kitchen, and 
 then you may come back for papa's and mine." 
 
 Mr. Ruthven stalked out into the garden, to find fault 
 with his cabbages, if they were not growing dutifully. Lady 
 Carse stood by the window, fretted at the thick seamy glass 
 which prevented her seeing anything clearly. Mrs. Ruthven 
 sat down to sew. 
 
 "Mamma," said Adam, presently, "what is a Pretender?" 
 
ANNIES NEWS 189 
 
 "A what, my dear? — a Pretender? I really scarcely 
 know. That is a question that you should ask your papa. 
 A Pretender?" 
 
 "No, no,, Adam. It is Adventurer. That was what the 
 steward said. I know it, because that is the name of one of 
 papa's books. I will show it you." 
 
 " I know that," said Adam. " But Widow Fleming called 
 it Pretender, too." 
 
 "What's that?" cried Lady Carse, turning hastily from 
 the window. " What are you talking about ? " 
 
 The children looked at each other, as they usually did 
 when somebody must answer the lady. 
 " What are you talking about ? " 
 
 " The steward says the Pretender has come : and we do 
 not know what that means.'' 
 
 " The Pretender come ! " cried Mrs. Ruthven, letting fall 
 her work. " Wlrat shall we do for news ? Run, my dears, 
 and ask Widow Fleming all about it. I can't leave Lady 
 Carse, you see." 
 
 The children declared they dared not go. Widow Flem- 
 ing was busy ; and she had sent them away. 
 
 "Then go and tell your father. Ask him to come in.'' 
 Mr. Ruthven was shocked into his usual manners when 
 he saw Lady- Carse unable to stand or speak. His assur- 
 ances that he did not believe her in any personal danger, if 
 the report were ever so true, were thrown away. Her con- 
 sternation was about a different' aspect of the matter. She 
 
190 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 at once concluded that the cause of the Stuarts would be 
 triumphant. She saw in imagination all her enemies vic- 
 torious — her husband and Lord Lovat successful in all their 
 plottings, high in power and glory ; while she, who could 
 have given timely intimation of their schemes — she who 
 could have saved the throne and kingdom — was confined to 
 this island like an eagle in a cage. For some time she sat 
 paralyzed by her emotions ; then she rose and went in si- 
 lence to Annie's dwelling. The steward was just departing, 
 and he seemed in the more haste for the lady's appearance ; 
 but Annie stopped him — gravely desired him to remain 
 while she told the lady what it concerned her to know. She 
 then said, 
 
 " I learn from the steward, madam, that it is known 
 throughout Edinburgh that you are still in life, and that you 
 are confined to some out-of-the-way place; though, the 
 steward believes, the real place is not known." 
 
 " It is not known," the steward declared ; "and it is any- 
 thing but kind of you, in my opinion, Mrs. Fleming, to 
 delude Lady Carse with any hope of escape. Her escape 
 is, and will always be, impossible." 
 
 " I think it my business," said Annie, " to inform the lady 
 of whatever I hear of her affairs. I think she ought to have 
 the comfort of knowing that her friends are alarmed : and I 
 am sure I have no right to conceal it from her." 
 
 The steward walked away, while the lady stood lost in 
 reverie. One set of ideas had driven out the other. She 
 
ANNIE'S NEWS. 191 
 
 had forgotten all about the Jacobite news, and she stood 
 staring with wide open eyes, as the vision of her escape and 
 triumph once more intoxicated her imagination. 
 
 Annie gently drew her attention to the facts, telling her 
 that it was clear that the ball of thread had done its duty 
 well. The alarm had begun with Mr. Hope, the advocate. 
 He had demanded that the coffin supposed to contain the 
 remains of Lady Carse should be taken up and searched. 
 When he appeared likely to obtain his demand, Lord Carse 
 had avoided the scandal of the proceeding by acknowledging 
 that it had been a sham funeral. Annier believed that now 
 the lady had only to wait as patiently as she could, in the 
 reasonable hope that her friends would not rest until they 
 had rescued her. 
 
 At this moment Lady Carse's quick sense was caught by 
 Adam's pulling the widow's gown and asking in a whisper, 
 "What is a Pretender?" and by Annie's soft reply, "Hush, 
 my dear ! " 
 
 " Hush ! do you say ? " exclaimed Lady Carse, with a 
 start. "What do you mean by saying 'hush'? Is the 
 Pretender come ? Answer me. Has the Pretender landed 
 in Scotland ? " 
 
 " He has not landed, madam. He is in yonder vessel. 
 You had a great deliverance, madam, in not being taken 
 away by his boat last night." 
 
 "Deliverance! There is no deliverance for me," said 
 the lady. " Every hope is dashed. There is no kindness 
 
192 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 in holding out new hopes to me. My enemies will not let 
 me stay here now my friends know where to find me. I 
 shall be carried to St. Kilda, or some other horrible place ; 
 or, if they have not time to take care of me while they are 
 setting up their new king, they will murder me. Oh, I shall 
 never live to see Edinburgh again : and my husband and 
 Lovat will be lording it there, and laughing at me and my 
 vain struggles during all these years, while I lie helpless in 
 my grave, or tossing like a weed in these cruel seas. If God 
 
 will but grant my prayer, and let me haunt them Stop» 
 
 stop : do not go away." 
 
 " I must, madam, if you talk so." 
 
 "Stop. I want to know about this Pretender. Why did 
 you not tell us sooner? Why not the moment you 
 knew?" 
 
 " I considered it was the steward's business to tell what 
 he thought proper ! but I have no objection to give all the 
 particulars. I know he whom they call Prince Charlie is in 
 yonder vessel, which carries eighteen guns. It cannot hold 
 many soldiers ; and Sir Alexander does not believe that he 
 will be joined by any from his islands. He is thought to 
 have a good many officers with him " 
 
 "How many?" 
 
 " Some say twenty ; some say forty. It is pretty sura 
 that Glengarry will join him — ■ — " 
 
 " Glengarry ! Then all is lost." 
 
 ■" Sir Alexander thinks not. He and Macleod have written 
 
ANNIE'S NEWS. 193 
 
 to the Lord President, that not a man from these islands 
 will join," 
 
 " They have written to Duncan Forbes ! Now, if they 
 
 were wise, they would send me to him You need not 
 
 look so surprised. He is a friend of mine ; and glad enough 
 he would be at this moment to know what I could tell him 
 of the Edinburgh Jacobites. Where is the Lord President 
 at this time ? " 
 
 " In the north, I think, preparing against the rising." 
 
 " Ay ; at his own place near Inverness. If I could but get 
 
 a letter to him Perhaps he knows already that I am not 
 
 dead. If I could see Sir Alexander ! Oh ! there are so 
 many ways opening, if I had but the least help from any- 
 body to use the opportunity ! Sir Alexander ought to know 
 that I am a loyal subject of King George; and that my 
 enemies are not." 
 
 " True," said Annie. " I will endeavour to speak to the 
 steward again before he sails, and tell him that." 
 
 " I will speak to him, myself. Ah ! I see your unwilling- 
 ness ; but I have learnt — it would be strange if I had not — 
 to trust nobody with my business. With Prince Charlie so 
 near, there is no saying who is a Jacobite, and who is not. 
 I will see the steward myself" 
 
 Annie knew that this would fail; and so it did. The 
 steward's dispositions were not improved by the lady's 
 method of pleading. He told her that Sir Alexander's 
 loyalty to King George had nothing to do with his pledge 
 
194 THE BILLOW AND THE kOCK. 
 
 '— ^ 
 
ANNIE'S NEWS. 195 
 
 that Lord Carse should never more be troubled by her. 
 He had pledged his honour that she should cause no more 
 disturbance, and no political difficulties would make him 
 forfeit his word. The steward grew dogged during the 
 interview. 
 
 Did her friends in Edinburgh know that she was alive ? 
 she demanded. " Perhaps so.'' 
 
 Did they know where she was ? " Perhaps so.'' 
 
 Then, should she be carried somewhere else ? " Perhaps 
 so." 
 
 To some wretched, outlandish place, further in the ocean ? 
 "Perhaps so." 
 
 Would they murder her rather than yield her up? 
 Perhaps so." 
 
 The steward's heart smote him as he said this, but he 
 forgave himself on the plea that the vixen brought it all 
 upon herself. So, when she asked the further question — 
 
 "Is there any chance for the Pretender? — any danger 
 that he may succeed ? " the answer still was 
 
 "Perhaps so." 
 
 Mr. Ruthven, who was prowHng about in search of news, 
 heard these last words, and they produced a great effect 
 upon him. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 TIMELY EVASION. 
 
 Mr. Ruthven was walking up and down his garden that 
 afternoon in a disturbed state of mind, when his wife came 
 to him and asked him what he thought Lady Carse could 
 be in want of. She was searching among his books and 
 boxes as if she wanted something. He hastened in. 
 
 "Yes," Lady Carse replied, in answer to his question; 
 " I want that pistol that used to be kept on the top of your 
 bed. You need not look so frightened. I am not going to 
 shoot you, nor anybody you ought to care for." 
 
 "I should like to understand, however," observed the 
 pastor. " It is unusual for ladies to employ fire-arms, I 
 believe, except in apprehension of the midnight thief : and 
 I am not aware of any danger from burglars in these 
 islands." 
 
 " Why no," replied the lady. " We have no great temp- 
 tation to offer to burglars ; and nothing to lose worth the 
 waste of powder and bullet." 
 
 "Then, if I may ask " 
 
 " O yes ; you may ask what I want the pistol for. It 
 
 strikes me that the boat from yonder vessel may possibly be 
 
 sent back . for me yet. They may think me a prize worth 
 
 1-93 
 
TIMEL Y E VASfON. 1 9 7 
 
 having, if the stupid people carried my story right. I would 
 go with them — I would go joyfully — for the chance of 
 shooting that young gentleman through the head." 
 
 " Young gentleman ! " repeated Mr. Ruthven, aghast. 
 
 "Yes, the young Pretender. My father lost his life for 
 shooting a Lord President. His daughter is the one to go 
 beyond him, by getting rid of a Prince Charlie. It would 
 be a tale for history, that he was disposed of among these 
 islands by the bravery of a woman. Why, you look so 
 aghast," she continued, turning from the husband to the 
 
 wife, " that Yes, yes. Oh, ho ! I have found you out ! 
 
 — you are Jacobites ! I see it in your faces. I see it. 
 There now, don't deny it Jacobites you are— and hence- 
 forth my enemies." 
 
 With stammering eagerness, both husband and wife 
 denied the charge. The fact was, they were not Jacobites ; 
 neither had they any sustaining loyalty on the other side. 
 They understood very little of the matter, either way ; and 
 dreaded, above everything, being pressed to take any part. 
 They thought it very hard to have their lot cast in precisely 
 that corner of the empire where it was first necessary to 
 take some part before knowing what the nation, or the 
 majority, meant to do. First, they prevented the lady's 
 finding the pistol, as the safest proceeding on the whole; 
 next, they wished themselves a thousand miles off, so 
 earnestly and so often, that it occurred to them to consider 
 whether they could not accomplish a part of this desire, and 
 
198 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 get a hundred miles away, or fifty, or twenty— ^somewhere, 
 at least, out of sight of the Pretender's privateer. 
 
 In a few hours the privateer was out of sight — " Gone 
 about north," the steward declared, " for suppHes : " as 
 nobody was willing to give them any help while under the 
 shadow of Macdonald and Macleod, 
 
 In the evening, little Kate rushed into Annie's cottage, 
 silently threw her arms about the widow's neck, and almost 
 strangled her with a tight hug. Adam followed, and 
 struggled to do the saiTie. " When he wanted to speak, he 
 began to cry ; and grievously he cried, sobbing out, 
 
 " What will you do without me ? You can't see the boats 
 at sea well now ; and soon, perhaps, you will hardly be able 
 to see them at all. And I was to have helped you : and 
 now what will you do ? " 
 
 "And papa would not let us come sooner," said the weep- 
 ing Kate, " because we had to pack all our things in such a 
 hurry. He said we need not come to you till he came to 
 bid you good-bye. But I made haste, and then I came." 
 
 "But, my dears, when are you going? where are you 
 going?" 
 
 " Oh, we are going directly : the steward is in such a 
 hurry ! And papa says we are not to cry ; and we are not 
 to come back any more. And we shall never get any of 
 those beautiful shells on the long sands, that you promised 
 me ; and " 
 
 Here Mr. Ruthven entered. He' had no time to sit 
 
TIMEL V E VASION. 199 
 
 down. He told the children that they must not cry ; but 
 that they might kiss their friend, and thank her for her kind- 
 ness to them, and tell her that they should never see her 
 any more. There was so much difficulty with the sobbing 
 children on this last point, that he gave it up for want of 
 time, threatening to see about making them more obedient 
 when he was settled on the mainland. While they 
 clung to Annie, and hid their faces in her gown, he 
 explained to her that his residence in this island had 
 not answered to his expectation ; that he did not find it 
 a congenial sphere ; that he was a man pf peace, to whom 
 neither domestic discord, nor the prospect of war and 
 difficulty without, were agreeable ; and that he was, therefore, 
 taking advantage of the steward's vessel to remove himself 
 to some quiet retreat, where the pastoral authority might be 
 exercised without disturbance, and a man like himself might 
 be placed in a more congenial sphere. He was then careful 
 to explain that, in speaking of domestic discord, he was far 
 from referring to Mrs. Ruthven, who, he thought he might 
 say, however liable to the failings of humanity, was not 
 particularly open to blame on the ground of conjugal 
 obedience. She was, in fact, an excellent wife; and he 
 should be grieved to cause the mosr transient impression to 
 the contrary. It was, in truth, another person — a casual 
 inmate of his family — whom he had in his eye; a lady 
 who 
 
20O THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 "I understand, sir. If you will allow me to go home 
 with you " 
 
 "Permit me to conclude what I was saying, Mrs. 
 Fleming. That unhappy lady, in favour of whose temper it 
 is impossible to say anything, has caused us equal 
 uneasiness by another tendency of late — a tendency to 
 indulge ■ " 
 
 But Annie did not, at such a moment, stand upon 
 ceremony. She was by this time leading the children home, 
 one in each hand. 
 
 "So you are really going away, and immediately?" said 
 she to Mrs. Ruthven. 
 
 " Immediately," replied the heated, anxious Mrs. Ruthven. 
 
 "Where is Lady Carse?" 
 
 The question again brought tears into Mrs. Ruthven's 
 swollen eyes. 
 
 " I do not know. Mr. Ruthven wishes to be gone before 
 she returns from her walk." 
 
 " We leave her the entire house to herself," declared the 
 pastor, now entering. " Will you bear our farewell message 
 to her, and wish her joy from us of being possessor of the 
 whole house ; and of " 
 
 " Here she comes," said Annie, quietly. " Lady Carse," 
 she said, " this is a remarkable day. Here is another way 
 opening for your deliverance — a way which appears to me 
 so clear that you have only to be patient for a few weeks or 
 months before your best wishes are fulfilled. Mrs. Ruthven 
 
TIMELY EVASION. 
 
 201 
 
 will now be able to do for you what she has so often longed 
 
 LEADING THE CHILDREN HOME, ONE IN EACH HAND. 
 
 to do. She is going to the main — perhaps to Edinburgh ; 
 
 14 
 
202 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 she will see Mr. Hope, and others of your friends ; and tell 
 your story. She will " 
 
 " She will not have anything of the sort to do," interrupted 
 Lady Carse. "I shall go and do it myself. I told her, 
 some time since, that whenever she quitted this island I 
 would not be left behind. I shall do my own business 
 myself, if you please.'' 
 
 "That is well," interposed the pastor; "because I 
 promised the steward, passed my solemn word to him, as a 
 condition of my departure, that it should never become 
 known through me or mine that Lady Carse had ever been 
 seen by any of us. I entirely approve of Lady Carse 
 managing her own affairs." 
 
 Annie found means to declare solemnly to Mrs. Ruthven 
 her conviction that no such promise could be binding on 
 her, and that it was her bounden duty to spare no effort for 
 the poor lady's release. 
 
 She was persuaded that Mrs. Ruthven thought and felt 
 with her; and that something effectual would at last be 
 done. 
 
 The children now most needed her consolations. 
 
 " Do not be afraid," she said cheerfully to them. " I shall 
 never forget you. I shall think of you every day. When- 
 ever you see a sea-bird winging over this way, send me your 
 love : and v/hen I see our birds go south, I will send my 
 love to you." 
 
 "And whenever," said Helsa, "you see a light over the 
 
TIMELY EVASION. 203 
 
 sea, you will think of Widow Fleming's lamp, won't 
 you?" 
 
 "And whenever," said Lady Carse, with a solemnity 
 which froze up the children's tears, and made them look in 
 her face, "whenever, in this world or the next, you 
 see a quiet angel keeping watch over a sinful, unhappy 
 mortal, you may think of Widow Fleming and. me. Will 
 you?" 
 
 The awe-struck children promised, with a sincerity and 
 warmth which touched Lady Carse with a keen sense of hu- 
 miliation; not the less keen because she had brought it 
 upon herself by a good impulse. 
 
 The pastor and his family were presently gone ; and with- 
 out Lady Carse. The steward guarded against that by 
 bringing Macdonald to fasten her into her house, and guard 
 it, till the boat should be out of reach. 
 
 Annie did not intrude upon her unhappy neighbour for 
 the first few hours. She thought it better to wait till she 
 was wished for. 
 
 " Our pastor gone ! " thought she, as she sat alone. " No 
 more children's voices in this dwelling ! No more worship 
 in the church on sabbaths ! Thus is our Father always 
 giving and taking away, that we may fix our expectations 
 on Him alone. But He always leaves us enough. He leaves 
 us our duty and our sabbaths, whether the church be open 
 or in ruins. And He has left me also an afflicted neighbour 
 to comfort and strengthen. Now that she thinks she 
 
 14 — 2 
 
204 
 
 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 depends on me alone, I may be the better able to lead her 
 to depend on Him." 
 
 And she was presently absorbed in meditating how best 
 to do this most needful work. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE LAMP BURNS. 
 
 Annie had supposed that her life would be almost as quiet 
 an one as it used to be when the minister and his family 
 were gone. Lady Carse was her neighbour, to be sure ; but 
 every day showed more and more that even to such restless 
 beings as Lady Carse, a time of quiet must come. Her 
 health and strength had been wasting for some months, and 
 now a change came over her visibly from week to week. 
 She rarely moved many yards from the house, spending 
 hours of fine weather in lying on the grass looking over the 
 sea ; and when confined to the house by the cold, in dozing 
 on the settle. 
 
 This happened just when her prison was, as it were, 
 thrown open, or, at least, much less carefully guarded than 
 ever before. Prince Charlie's successes were so great as to 
 engross all minds in this region, and almost throughout the 
 whole of the kingdom. Wherever the Macdonalds and the 
 Macleods had influence, there was activity, day and night. 
 Every man in either clan, every youth capable of bearing 
 arms, was raised and drilled, and held in readiness to march, 
 as soon as arms should be provided by the government. 
 
 Annie had many anxieties about Rollo, — many feelings of 
 
 longing and dread to hear where he was, and what he was 
 
 203 
 
2o6 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 doing. The first good news she had was that of the whole 
 population of Skye and the neighbouring islands, not one 
 man had joined the Pretender. The news was carefully 
 spread, in order that it might produce its effect on any 
 waverers, that Sir Alexander Macdonald had written to 
 Lord President Forbes that not one man under him or 
 Macleod had joined the Pretender's army; and that he 
 should soon be ready to march a force of several hundred 
 men, if arms could be sent or provided for them against 
 their arrival at Inverness. Meantime, no day passed without 
 the men being collected in parties, and exercised with batons, 
 in the absence of fire-arms. Rollo came to the very first 
 drill which took place on the island ; and great was his 
 mother's relief; and great the satisfaction vfith which she 
 made haste to equip him, according to her small means, for 
 a march to Inverness. 
 
 Here was an object too for Lady Carse. She fretted 
 sadly, but not quite idly, about her strength failing just now 
 when boats came to the island so often that she might have 
 had many chances of escape if she could now have borne 
 night watching, and exposure to weather and fatigue. She 
 complained and wept much ; but all the time she worked as 
 hard as Annie to prepare Rollo for military service ; for her 
 very best chance now appeared to be his seeing Lord 
 I'resident Forbes, and telling him her story. The widow 
 quite agreed in this ; and it became the most earnest desire 
 of the whole party, — Helsa's sympathies being drawn in, — 
 
THE LAMP BURNS. 
 
 207 
 
 < 
 
2o8 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 that the summons to march might arrive. Somebody was 
 always looking over towards Skye ; and there was so much 
 traffic on these seas at present, that some new excitement 
 was perpetually arising. Now a meal- bark arrived, telling 
 of the capture of others by the prince's privateer : and next 
 there was a seizure of fish for the king's service. Now all 
 eyes were engaged, for days together, in watching the man- 
 of-war which hovered round the coasts to prevent the rebels 
 being reinforced by water, and arms being landed from 
 foreign vessels : and then there were rumours, and some- 
 times visions, of suspicious boats skulking among the islands, 
 or a strange sail being visible on the horizon. Such excite- 
 ments made the island appear a new place, and changed 
 entirely the life of the inhabitants. The brave enjoyed all 
 this : the timid sickened at it ; and Lady Carse wept over it 
 as coming too late for her. 
 
 "The lady looks ill," the steward observed to the Widow 
 Fleming, one day when, as often happened now, he came 
 without notice. " She is so shrunk, she is not like the same 
 person." 
 
 Annie told how she had lost strength and spirits of late. 
 She had not been down even to the harbour for two months. 
 
 " Ay, it is a change," said the steward. " I was saying to 
 Macdonald just now that we have been rather careless of 
 late, having had our heads so full of other matters. I almost 
 wondered that she had not slipped through our fingers in 
 the hurry and bustle : but I see now how that is. However, 
 
THE LAMP BURNS. 209 
 
 Macdonald will keep a somewhat stricter watch ; for, as I 
 told him, it concerns Sir Alexander's honour all the more 
 that she should not get loose, now that those who committed 
 her to his charge are under suspicion about their politics^ 
 Ah ! )-ou see the secret is getting out now, — the reason of 
 her punishment. She wanted to ruin them, no doubt, by 
 telling what she knew ; and they put her out of the way for 
 safety." 
 
 "Is her husband with the Pretender then? And is Lord 
 Lovat on that side ? They are the two she is most angry 
 with." 
 
 " Lord Carse is safe enough. He is a prudent man. He 
 could not get into favour with the king and the minister : — 
 they knew two much harm of him for that. So he has 
 made himself a courtier of the Prince of ^Vales. He has no 
 idea of being thrust upon the dangers of rebellion while the 
 event is uncertain; so he attaches himself in a useless way 
 to the reigning family. And if Prince Charlie should suc- 
 ceed. Lord Carse can easily show that he never favoured 
 King George or his minister, or did them any good. — As 
 for Lovat, he is ill and quiet at home." 
 " Which side is he on ? " 
 
 " He complains bitterly of his son being disobedient to 
 him, and put upon his disobedience by his Jacobite acquaint- 
 ance. If the young man joins Prince Charlie, it is thought 
 that his father will stand by King George, that the family 
 estates may be safe whichever way the war ends.— Bless me ! 
 
2IO THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 what a sigh ! One would think Come now, what's the 
 
 matter ? " 
 
 " The wickedness of it ! " said Annie. 
 
 " Oh ! is that all ? Lovat's wickedness is nothing new ; 
 and what better could you expect from his son ? By the 
 same rule, I have great expectations of your son. As you 
 are sound, he will be sound too, and do his king and country 
 good service. You are both on the same side, and not like 
 the master of Lovat and his father.'' 
 
 " We have no estates to corrupt our minds," observed 
 Annie. " We have only our duty to care for.'' 
 
 " Ay, then, you are on the same side.'' 
 
 " Rollo is ready to march with the men of these islands. I 
 am on no side, sir. I do not understand the matter, and I 
 have nothing to do with it. There is no occasion for me to 
 take any side." 
 
 " Why yes ; as it happens, there is, Mrs. Fleming : and 
 that is one of the things that brought me here to-day. Sir 
 Alexander iMacdonald desires that you will oblige him by 
 not burning your lamp in the night till the troubles are 
 over." 
 
 " I am sorry that there is anything in which I cannot 
 oblige Sir Alexander Macdonald : but I must burn my lamp." 
 
 " But hear : you do not know his reasons. There are 
 some suspicious vessels skulking about among these islands; 
 and you ought to show them no favour till they show what 
 they are " 
 
THE LAMP BURNS. 
 
 " You do not think, sir, you cannot surely think that any- 
 body on this island is in danger from the enemy. There is 
 nothing to bring them here, — no arms, nor wealth of any 
 kind ; — nothing that it would be worth the trouble of coming 
 to take." 
 
 " Oh no : you are all safe enough. No enemy would 
 lose their time here. But that is no reason why you sliould 
 give them help and comfort with your beacon-light." 
 
 " You mean, sir, that if a storm drives them hither, or 
 they lose their way, you would have them perish. Yes; 
 that is what you mean, and that I cannot do. I must burn 
 my lamp." 
 
 " But my good friend, consider what you are doing. 
 Consider the responsibility if you should succour the king's 
 enemies ! " 
 
 " I did consider it well, sir, some years ago, and made 
 up my mind. That was when the pirates were on the 
 coast." 
 
 "You don't mean that you would have lighted pirates to 
 shore ? " 
 
 "I could not refuse to save them from drowning: and 
 He who set me my duty blessed the deed." 
 
 " I remember hearing something of that. But if the 
 pirates did no mischief, your neighbours owe you nothing 
 for that. You may thank the poverty of the island." 
 
 "Perhaps so," said Annie, smiling.. "And if so, I am 
 sure we may thank God for the poverty of the island which 
 
212 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 permits us to save men's lives, instead of letting them 
 drown. And now you see, sir " 
 
 " I see you are as wilful on this point as I heard you 
 were. I would not believe it, because I always thought you 
 a superior woman. But now — I wish I could persuade you 
 to see your duty better, Mrs. Fleming." 
 
 " As my duty appears to me, sir, it is to save people's lives 
 without regard to who they are, and what their business is." 
 
 " If the Pretender should come " 
 
 " He would go as he came," said Annie, quietly. " He 
 would get nothing here that could hurt the king, while the 
 men of the island are gone to Inverness." 
 
 " Well, to be sure, if you would succour and comfort pi- 
 rates, there is nobody whom you would not help.'' 
 
 "That is true, sir." 
 
 " But it is very dangerous, Mrs. Fleming. Do you know 
 the consequences of aiding the enemy?" 
 
 " I know the consequences of there being no light above 
 the harbour," said Annie, .in a low voice. 
 
 The steward knew it was useless to say more. He 
 thought it better to put into her hand some newspapers 
 which contained a startling account of the progress of the 
 rebels, embellished A\ith many terrifying fictions of their 
 barbarity, such as were greedily received by the alarmists of 
 the time. 
 
 " Here," said he. " You can look these over while I go 
 to speak to Macdonald about removing the lady to some 
 
THE LAMP BURNS. 213 
 
 remoter place while we have only women on the island. 
 Pray look over these papers, and then you will see what 
 sort of people you may chance to bring upon your neigh- 
 bours, if you persist in burning your lamp. But Sir 
 Alexander must put forth his authority — even use force, if 
 necessary. What do you say to that ? " 
 
 " Some old words," said Annie, smiling, " given to those 
 who are brought before governors. It shall be given me 
 in that same hour what I shall speak.'' 
 
 "I will look in for the papers as I return," said the 
 steward. " You are as wilful on your own points as your 
 neighbour. But you must give way, as you preach that she 
 ought " 
 
 " I do not preach that, sir, I assure you. I wish, for her 
 own peace, that she would yield herself to God's disposal ; 
 but I would have her, in the strength of law and justice, 
 resist the oppression of man.'' 
 
 The steward smiled, nodded, and left Annie to read the 
 newspapers. 
 
 The time was short. Lady Carse was asleep ; but Annie 
 woke her, and left one paper with her while she went home 
 to read the other. She was absorbed in the narrative of the 
 march of the rebels southwards, and their intention of 
 proceeding to London, eating children, as the newspaper 
 said, after the manner of Highlanders, all the way as 
 they went, when Lady Carse burst in, trembling from head 
 to foot, and unable to speak. She showed to Annie a short 
 
214 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 paragraph, which told that a vessel chartered by Mr. Hope, 
 advocate, of Edinburgh, and bound to the Western Islands, 
 had put into the Horseshoe harbour in Lorn, to land a lady 
 whom the captain refused to carry to her destination through 
 a quarrel on the ground of difference of political sentiment. 
 The lady, wife of a minister of the kirk, had sought the aid 
 of the resident tenant to be escorted home through the 
 disturbed districts in Argyle, while the vessel proceeded on 
 its way — not unvvatched, however, as Mr. Hope's attachment 
 to the house of Stuart was no secret, &c., &c. 
 
 The widow was perplexed ; but Lady Carse knew that 
 Mr. Hope, her lawyer and her friend, was a Jacobite — the 
 only fault he had, she declared. She was persuaded that 
 the lady was Mrs. Ruthven, and that the vessel was on its 
 way to rescue her — might arrive at any hour of the day or 
 night. 
 
 "But," said Annie, "this lady is loyal to King George, 
 and you reproached the Ruthvens for being on the other side." 
 
 " O ! I was wrong about her, no doubt. I detest him ' 
 but she is a good creature ; and I was quite wrong ever to 
 suspect her.'' 
 
 "And you think your loyalty to the king would do you 
 no harm with Mr. Hope? You think he would exert him- 
 self for you without thinking of your poHtics ? " 
 
 " Why, don't you see what is before your eyes ? " cried 
 Lady Carse. " Is it not there, as plain as black and white 
 can make it ? " 
 
THE LAMP BURNS. 215 
 
 The fact was so, though the lady's reasoning was not good. 
 The vessel, with armed men in it, was sent by Mr. Hope to 
 rescue Lady Carse ; and Mrs. Ruthven was to act as guide. 
 In consequence of a quarrel between the captain and her, 
 she was set ashore at the place where the little town of Oban 
 has since arisen ; and the vessel sailed on out of sight. It 
 was an illegal proceeding of Mr. Hope's, and resorted to 
 only when his attempts to obtain a warrant from the proper 
 authority to search for and liberate Lady Carse were 
 frustrated by the influence of her husband and his friends. 
 
 "He will be coming! Burn the paper !" cried Lady 
 Carse impatiently, looking from the door. 
 
 "Better not. Indeed we had better not," said Annie 
 quietly. " They have no suspicion, or they would not have 
 let us see the paper. They do not know that Mr. Hope is 
 your agent ; and Mrs. Ruthven's name is not mentioned. If 
 we do not return both the papers, there will be suspicion ; 
 and you will be carried to St. Kilda. If we quietly return 
 both papers, the danger may pass." 
 
 " O ! bum it, and say it was accident. How slow you 
 
 are!" 
 
 "I cannot tell a lie," said Annie. "And the steward 
 would only get another copy of the paper, and look over it 
 carefully, — No, we have only to give him back the papers, 
 and thank him, without agitation." 
 
 " I cannot do that," exclaimed Lady Carse. " If you 
 will not tell a lie in such a case, I shall act one. I shall go 
 
2i6 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 and pretend to be asleep. I could not contain myself to 
 speak to that man, with my deliverers almost within hearing 
 perhaps, and that detestable St. Kilda within sight." 
 
 She commanded herself so far as to appear asleep, when 
 the steward looked in, on his return. Annie remarked on 
 the news of the rebels, and saw him depart evidently 
 unaware of the weighty nature of what he carried in his 
 pocket. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 OPENINGS. 
 
 The autumn of this year is even now held in memory in 
 the island as the dearest ever known. The men were all 
 gone to Inverness, to act under the orders of President 
 Forbes in defending the king's cause ; and the women they 
 left behind pined for news which seldom or never came. 
 As the days' grew short and dark, there was none of the 
 activity and mirth within doors which in northern chmates 
 usually meet the advances of winter. In the cluster of 
 houses about Macdonald's farm, there was dulness and 
 silence in the evenings, and anxious thoughts about fathers, 
 husbands, and brothers, with dread of the daylight which 
 would bring round the perpetual ineffectual watch for a boat 
 on the waters, bearing news of the brave companies of the 
 Macdonalds and INIacleods. Sir Alexander remained in 
 Skye, to watch against treason and danger there, while Mac- 
 leod had gone with the two companies. Such a thing as 
 murmuring against the chief was never heard of; but there 
 were few of the women who did not silentiy think, now and 
 then, that Sir Alexander might let them have a little more 
 news — might consider their anxiety, and send a messenger 
 when he had tidings from Inverness. This was unjust to 
 
 Sir Alexander, who was no better off for news than them- 
 
 217 15 
 
2i8 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 selves. The rebels were so far successful that messengers 
 could not carry letters with any security by land or sea. It 
 was only by folding his notes so small as to admit of their 
 being hidden in corners of the dress that the President could 
 gel them conveyed to the authorities at Edinburgh ; and his 
 correspondence with the Government was managed by send- 
 ing messengers in open boats to Berwick, whence the 
 garrison officer forwarded the despatches to London. In 
 such a state of things, the inhabitants of remote western 
 islands must bear suspense as well as they could. 
 
 No one bore it so well as the Widow Fleming. Her only 
 son was in one of the absent companies ; she had no other 
 near relation in the world; and she had on her hands a 
 sinking and heart-sick neighbour, whose pains of suspense 
 were added to her own. Yet Annie was the most cheerful 
 person now on the island. When Helsa was fatigued and 
 dispirited by her attendance on Lady Carse, and was sent 
 home for a day's holiday, she alwa)'s came back with alacrity, 
 saying that after all, the Macdonalds' side of the island was 
 the most dismal of the two. Nobody there cared to sing, 
 whereas Annie would always sing when asked, and often was 
 heard to do so when alone. And she had such a store of 
 tales about the old sea-kings, and the heroes of these islands, 
 and of Scotch history, that some of the younger women 
 came night after night to listen. As they knitted or spun, 
 or let fall their work, while their eyes were fixed on Annie, 
 they forget the troubles of their own time, and the blasts and 
 
OPENINGS. 219 
 
 rains through which they should have to find their way home. 
 
 At the end of these evenings, Lady Carse often declared 
 herself growing better ; and she then went to sleep on the 
 imagination that she would soon be restored to Edinburgh 
 life by Mr. Hope's means, and be happy at last. In the 
 morning, she always declared herself sinking, and fretted 
 over the hardship of dying just when her release was draw- 
 ing near. Annie thought she was sinking, and never con- 
 tradicted her when she said so ; but yet she tried to bring 
 some of the cheerfulness of the evenings into the morning. 
 She sympathised in the pain of suspense, and of increasing 
 weakness when life was brightening ; but she steadily spoke 
 of hope. 
 
 She was sincerely convinced that efforts which could not 
 fail were making for Lady Carse's release, and she thought it 
 likely that the mother and children would meet on earth, 
 though it were only to exchange a hope that they might meet 
 in heaven. Sincerely expecting some great and speedy 
 change in the poor lady's fortunes, she could dwell upon the 
 prospect from day to day with a sympathy which did not 
 disappoint even Lady Carse. Every morning she rose with 
 the feeling that great things might happen before night ; and 
 every night she assured her eager neighbour that no doubt 
 somebody had been busy on her behalf during the day. 
 Whether Lady Carse owned it to herself or not, this was 
 certainly the least miserable winter she had passed since she 
 
 had left Edinburgh, 
 
 15 — 2 
 
220 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 " I am better, I am sure," she joyfully declared one night : 
 " better in every way. How do I look ? Tell me how I 
 look." 
 
 " Sadly thin ; not so as to do justice to the good food the 
 steward sent you," said Annie, cheerfully. " I should like 
 to see these Httle hands not quite so thin." 
 
 "Ah! that is nothing. Everybody is thin and smoke- 
 dried at the end of a stormy winter," declared Lady Carse. 
 " But I feel so much better ! You say it is hope ; but you 
 see how well I bear suspense." 
 
 " I always have thought," said Annie, " that nothing is so 
 good for us all as happiness and peace. Your happiness in 
 hoping to see your children soon, and in obtaining justice, 
 has done you a great deal of good ; and I trust there is much 
 more in store yet." 
 
 " O yes ; and when I get back to my friends again, I 
 shall be happier than I was. We learn some things as we 
 go on in life. I sometimes think that I should in some 
 respects act differently if I had to live my life over 
 again." 
 
 " We all feel that," said Annie. 
 
 "Vou know that feeling? Well, there have been some 
 things in myself which I rather wonder at now ; some things 
 that I would not do now. I once struck my husband." 
 
 " Once ! " thought Annie in amazement. 
 
 " And I think I may have been too peremptory with the 
 children. There was nobody then to lead me to discover 
 
OPENINGS. 
 
 such things as I do when I am with you ; and I beheve now 
 that if I were at home again 1 hope — ■ — I think " 
 
 " What will you do if it pleases God to restore you to your 
 home?" 
 
 " Why, I have been told that they were afraid of me at 
 home. Heaven knows why ! for I should have thought 
 that pompous, heartless, rigid, tyrannical wretch, my 
 husband, was the one to be afraid of; and not a warm- 
 hearted creature like me.'' 
 
 '•■ Perhaps they were afraid of him too." 
 
 " O yes, to be sure ; and that is why I am here. But 
 they need not have cared for anything I say under an 
 impulse. They might have known that I love people when 
 they do me justice. That, I own, I cannot dispense with. 
 I must have justice. But if people give me my due, I am 
 ready enough to love them." 
 
 " And how will you do differently now, if you get home ?" 
 
 " I think I would be more dignified than I sometimes 
 have been. I would rely more upon myself. I may have 
 encouraged my enemies by letting them see how they could 
 wound my sensitive feelings. I should not have been so 
 ill-treated by the whole world if I had not made some 
 mistake of that kind. I would rely more on myself, and 
 let them see that they could • not touch my peace. Would 
 not that be right?" 
 
 "Certainly; by your having a peace which they could 
 not touch" 
 
THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 There ^Yas a short pause; after which Lady Carse said, 
 in no unamiable tone, 
 
 " I do not say these things by way of asking your advice. 
 I know my own feehngs and circumstances, and the 
 behaviour of my family to me, better than you can do. I 
 may be left to judge for myself; but it is natural, when a 
 summons may come any day, to tell you what I think of 
 the past ; and of how I shall act in the time to come.'' 
 
 " I quite understand that," said Annie. " And I like to 
 hear all you like to tell me without judging or advising, 
 unless you ask me." 
 
 "Well, I fairly own to you — and you may take the con- 
 fession for what it is worth — if I had to live the last twenty 
 years over again, I should in some respects act differently, 
 I now believe that I have said and done some things that I 
 had better not. But I was driven to it. I have been most 
 cruelly treated." 
 
 "You have." 
 
 "And if they had only known how to treat me ! Why, 
 you are not afraid of me, are you ? " 
 
 "Not in the least." 
 
 " And you never were ? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 "Why, there now ! But you are a woman of sense." 
 
 "I am not afraid of you, and never was," said Annie, 
 looking calmly in her face; "but I can understand how 
 some people might be." 
 
OPENINGS. 223 
 
 " Not people of sense,'' exclaimed Lady Carse quickly, 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but we do not expect all that we have 
 dealings with to be people of sense." 
 
 " No, indeed ! Nobody need ever look for sense in Lord 
 Carse, for one. Well I I am so glad you never were afraid 
 of me ; and I am sure, moreover, that you love me : you 
 are so kind to me ! " 
 
 "I do," said Annie, smiling in reply to the wistful 
 gaze. 
 
 Lady Carse's eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " Good night ! God bless you ! " said she. 
 
 "She says," thought Annie, "that I may take her con- 
 fession for what it is worth. How little she knows the 
 worth of that confession ! — a confession that any acquaint- 
 ance she has would blush or mock at, and that any pastor 
 in Scotland would rebuke ! but to one who knows her as I 
 do, how precious it is ! I like to be called to rejoice with 
 the neighbours when a child is born into the world ; but it 
 is a greater thing to sit here alone and rejoice over the birth 
 of a new soul in this poor lady. It is but a feeble thing, 
 this new born soul — born so much too late ; it is little better 
 than blind and helpless, and with hard struggles coming on 
 before it has strength to meet them. But still it is breathing 
 with God's breath ; and it may come freely to Christ. Christ 
 always spoke to souls ; and what were the years of man's 
 life to Him ? So I take it as an invitation in such a case as 
 this, when He says, ' Suffer the little children to come unto 
 
224 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 Me.' O may the way be kept clear for this infant soul to 
 come to Him ! " 
 
 Annie had all the kindly and cheerful instincts which 
 simple hearts have everywhere ; and among them the wish 
 to welcome the newly born with music. With the same 
 feeling which make the people of many a heathen island and 
 Christian country pour out their music round the dwelling 
 which is gladdened by a new birth, Annie now sang a 
 cheerful religious welcome to the young conscience which 
 she trusted must henceforth live and grow for ever. Her 
 voice was heard next door, just so as to be favourable to rest. 
 Without knowing the occasion of the song, the lady reposed 
 upon it ; and without knowing it, Annie sang her charge to 
 sleep, as she had often done when Rollo was an infant on 
 her knee. 
 
 When at daylight she rose to put out her lamp, and 
 obsei-ve the weather, she saw what made her dress quickly, 
 instead of going to bed for her needful morning hour of 
 sleep. A boat was making for the harbour through the 
 difficulties of the wintry sea. It rose and was borne on the 
 long swell so fast and so fearfully, that it appeared as if 
 nothing could save it from dashing on the ledges of 
 projecting rock ; and then, before it reached them, it sank 
 out of sight, to be lifted up and borne along as before. 
 'I'here were four rowers, a steersman, and two others, muffled 
 in cloaks. Annie watched them till the boat disappeared in 
 tlie windings of the harbour; and she was out on the hill- 
 
OPENINGS. 225 
 
 side, in the cold February wind, when she saw the whole 
 party ascending from the shore, and taking the road to 
 Macdonald's. 
 
 Here was news ! There must be news. Better not tell 
 even Helsa till slie had heard the news. So the widow 
 made what haste she could by the nearer road; but her 
 best haste could not compare with the ordinary pace of 
 the strangers. They had arrived long before she reached 
 Macdonald's gate. 
 
 She walked straight in : and as she did so, one of the 
 gentlemen who was standing before the fire glanced at 
 another who was walking up and down. 
 
 "We need no sentinels here, my lord," said the latter in 
 reply to the glance. "There are none but women and 
 children on the island, and they are all loyally dis- 
 posed." 
 
 " This is Sir Alexander Macdonald," said the hostess to 
 Annie. And then she told the chief that this was the Widow 
 Fleming, who had no doubt come to obtain tidings of her 
 son, who had gone witli the company under Macleod. 
 
 " The Lord President will give you more exact news of 
 the company than I can," said Sir Alexander. "I only 
 know that my people are marched to Aberdeen to protect 
 that city, from the insolence of the rebels." 
 
 The President, who was sitting by the fire, looked up 
 kindly, and cheerfully told the widow that he had good news 
 to give of the company from these islands. They had not 
 
226 THE BILLOW AXD THE ROCK. 
 
 been in any engagement, and were all in good health when 
 they marched for Aberdeen, a fortnight before. 
 "And are they all in their duty, my lord ? " 
 "You remind me, friend, that I ought to have put that 
 before my account of their health and safety. They are in 
 their duty, being proof, so far, against both threat and 
 seduction from the rebels.'' 
 "Thus far?" 
 
 "Why, yes; I used those words because their lo}alty to 
 the king is likely to be tried to the utmost at the present 
 time. The king's cause is in adversity, we will hope only 
 for a short time. The rebels have won a battle at Falkirk, 
 and dispersed the king's troops ; and this gentleman, the 
 Earl of Loudon," pointing to the one who was standing by 
 the fire, " and I have had to run away from my house at 
 Culloden, and throw ourselves on the hospitality of Sir 
 Alexander Macdonald." 
 
 " And what will become of your house, my lord ? " 
 " I have thrown my house and fortune into the cause, as 
 you have thrown something much more important — your 
 son. If you can wait God's disposal cheerfully, much 
 more should I. I cannot bestow a thought on my 
 house." 
 
 "Except,'' said Sir Alexander, "that you have nothing 
 else to think about here ; and nothing to do but to think, 
 for this day, at least. ^Ve must remain here. So safe as it 
 is, in comparison with any part of Skye, or even Barra, I 
 
OFEiYINGS. 227 
 
 should recommend your staying here till we have some 
 assurance of safety elsewhere." 
 
 " I will venture to offer something for the Lord President 
 to think of and to do,'' said the widow, coming forward with 
 an earnestness which fixed everybody's attention at once, 
 and made Sir Alexander stop in his walk. He was about to 
 command silence on Annie's part, but a glance at her face 
 showed him that this would be useless. 
 
 " Let me first be sure that I am right," said Annie. " Is 
 the Lord President whom I speak to named Duncan Forbes ? 
 And is he a friend of Lord Carse ? " 
 
 " I am Duncan Forbes, and Lord Carse is an acquaintance 
 of mine." 
 
 " Has he ever told you that his unhappy wife is not dead, 
 as he pretended, but living in miserable banishment on this 
 island?" 
 
 "On this island ! Nonsense ! " cried Sir Alex- 
 ander. 
 
 When assured by the hostess and Annie that it was so, he 
 swore at his steward, his tenant, and himself On first 
 hearing of the alarm being taken by the lady's friends at 
 Edinburgh, he had ordered her removal to St. Kilda, and 
 had supposed it effected long ago. The troubles of the 
 time, which left no boat or men disposable, had caused the 
 delay ; and now, between his rage at any command of his 
 having been disregarded, and his sense of his absurdity in 
 bringing a friend of his prisoner to her very door, he was 
 
228 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 perfectly exasperated. He muttered curses as he strode up 
 and down. 
 
 Meantime the Lord President was quietly preparing 
 himself for a walk. Everybody but Annie entreated him to 
 stay till he had breakfasted, and warmed himself, Lord 
 Loudon adding that the lady would not fly away in the 
 course of the next hour if she had been detained so many 
 years. It did not escape the President's observant eye that 
 these words struck Sir Alexander, and that he made a m.ove- 
 ment towards the door. There being a boat and rowers at 
 hand, she might be found to have flown within the hour, if 
 he stayed to breakfast. 
 
 He approached Sir Alexander, and laid his hand on his 
 arm, saying — 
 
 "My good friend, I advise you to yield up this affair into 
 my hands as the first law oflicer of Scotland. All chance 
 of concealment of this lady's case has been over for some 
 time. Measures have been taken for some months to 
 compel you to resign the charge which you surely cannot 
 wish to retain " 
 
 Sir Alexander broke in with curses on himself for having 
 ever been persuaded into involving himself in such a 
 business. 
 
 " By the desire, I presume, of Lord Carse, Lord Lovat, 
 Mr. Forster, and others, not now particularly distinguished 
 for their loyalty." 
 
 " That is the cursed part of it," muttered Sir Alexander. 
 
OPENINGS. 229 
 
 "It was to further their Jacobite plots that they put this 
 vixen out of the way, because she had some secrets in her 
 power, and they laid it all on her temper, which, they told 
 me, caused my lord to go in fear of his reputation and his 
 life." 
 
 "There was truth in that, to my knowledge," observed 
 the President; "and there were considerations connected 
 with the daughters — natural considerations, though leading 
 to unnatural cruelty." 
 
 " Politics were at the bottom, for all that," said the chief, 
 "And now, as she has been my prisoner for so long, I 
 suppose they will throw the whole responsibihty upon me. 
 The rebel leaders hate me for my loyalty as they hate the 
 devil. They hate me " 
 
 " As they hate Lord Loudon and myself," interposed the 
 President, "which they do, I take it, much more bitterly 
 than they ever did the devil. But, Sir Alexander, let me 
 point out to you that your course in regard to this lady is 
 now clear. If the rebellion succeeds, let the leaders find 
 that you have taken out of their hands this weapon, which 
 they might otherwise use for your destruction. Let them 
 find you acting with me in restoring the lady to her rights. 
 If, as I anticipate, the rebellion is yet to fail, this is still 
 your only safe course. It will afford you the best chance of 
 impunity— which impunity, however, it is not for me to 
 promise— for the illegality and the guilt of your past 
 conduct to the victim. There is something in our friend's 
 
230 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 countenance here," he continued, turning to the widow with 
 a smile, " which I should like to understand. I fear I have 
 not her good opinion, as I could wish." 
 
 Annie told exactly what she was thinking : that all this 
 reasoning was wrong, because wasteful of the right. Surely 
 it was the shortest and clearest thing to say that, late as it 
 was, it was better for Sir Alexander to begin doing right 
 than persist in the wrong. 
 
 "I quite agree with you," said the President, "and if 
 people generally were Hke you, we should be saved most of 
 the argumentation of our law courts — if, indeed, we should 
 need the courts at all, or, perhaps, even any human law. 
 Come, Sir Alexander, let me beg your company to call on 
 Lady Carse. One needs the countenance of the chief, who 
 is always and everywhere welcome in his own territory, to 
 excuse so early a visit." 
 
 Sir Alexander positively declined going. He was, in 
 truth, afraid of the lady's tongue in the presence of a legal 
 functionary, before whom he could neither order nor threaten 
 violence. 
 
 It was a great relief to Annie that he did not go. • She 
 needed the opportunity of the walk to prepare the President 
 to meet his old acquaintance, and to speak wisely to her. 
 
 Even the President, with his habitual self-possession, 
 could not conceal his embarrassment at the change in Lady 
 Carse. The light from the window shone upon her face; 
 yet he glanced at the widow, as in doubt whether this could 
 
OI'EA'/JVGS. 23 1 
 
 be the right person, before he made his complaints. In the 
 midst of her agitation at the meeting, Lady Carse said to 
 herself that the good man was losing his memory ; and, in- 
 deed, it was time ; for he must be above sixty. She won- 
 dered whether it was a sign that her husband might be losing 
 his faculties too : but she feared Duncan Forbes was a good 
 deal the older of the two. 
 
 It would have astonished those who did not know Duncan 
 Forbes to see him now. He was a fugitive from the rebels, 
 who might at the moment be burning his house, and impo- 
 verishing his tenants ; he had been wandering in the moun- 
 tains for many days, and had spent the last night upon the 
 sea ; his clothes were weather-stained, his periwig damp, and 
 his buckles rusted ; he was at the moment weary and aching 
 with cold and hunger ; he was in the presence of a lady 
 whom he had for years supposed dead and buried j and he 
 was Imder the shock of seeing a face once full of health and 
 animation now not only wasted, but alive with misery in 
 every fibre : yet he sat on a bench in this island dwelling 
 — in his eyes a hovel — with his gold-headed cane between 
 his knees, talking with all the courtesy, calmness, and 
 measured cheerfulness, which Edinburgh knew so well. No- 
 thing could be better for Lady Carse than his manner. It 
 actually took'away the sense of wonder at their meeting; and 
 meeting thus. While he had stood at the threshold, and 
 she heard whom she was to see, her brain had reeled, and 
 her countenance had become such as it might well dismay 
 
232 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 him to see ; but such was the influence of his composure, 
 and of the associations which his presence revived, that she 
 soon appeared in Annie's eyes a totally altered person. As 
 the two sat at breakfast, Annie saw before her the gentleman 
 and lady complete, in spite of every disguise of dress and 
 circumstance. 
 
 At the close of the meal, Annie slipped away to her own 
 house : but it was not long before she was sent for, at the 
 desire, not of Lady Carse, but of the President. He wished 
 her to hear what he had to relate. He told of Mr. Hope's 
 exertions in Edinburgh, and of his having at length ventured 
 upon an illegal proceeding for which only the disturbance of 
 the times could be pleaded in excuse. He had sent out a 
 vessel, containing a few armed men, and Mrs. Ruthven, who 
 had undertaken to act as guide to Lady Carse's residence. 
 It was understood that the captain had set Mrs. Ruthven 
 ashore in Lorn, through some disagreement between them ; 
 and that the vessel had proceeded as far as Barra, when the 
 captain was so certainly informed that the lady had been 
 removed to the mainland that he turned back ; pleading, 
 further, that there was such evident want of sense in Mrs. 
 Ruthven, and such contradictory testimony between her and 
 her husband, that he doubted whether any portion of their 
 story was true. It was next believed that a commission of 
 enquiry would be soon sent to this and other islands : but 
 this could not take place until the public tranquility should 
 be in some degree restored. 
 
OPENINGS. 
 
 233 
 
 " Before that, I shall be dead," sighed Lady Carse, im- 
 patiently. 
 
 " There is no need now to wait for the commission," said 
 the President. " Where I am, all violations of the law must 
 cease. Your captivity is now at an end, except in so Jiir as 
 you are subject to ill health, or, like myself, to winter 
 weather and most wintry fortunes." 
 
 THE TWO SAT AT BREAKFAST. 
 
 "The day is come, then," said Annie, through shining 
 tears. " You are now delivered out of the hand of man, 
 and have to wait only God's pleasure." 
 
 " What matters it," murmured Lady Carse, "how you call 
 
 my misfortunes ? Here I sit, a shivering exile——" 
 
 16 
 
234 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 "So far like myself," observed the President, moving 
 nearer the scanty Are. 
 
 " You have not been heart-sick for years under insuffer- 
 able wrongs," declared Lady Carse. " And you have not 
 the grave open at your feet while everything you care for is 
 beckoning to you to come away. You " 
 
 "Pardon me, my old friend," said he, mildly. "That is 
 exactly my case. I am old : the grave is open at my feet ; 
 and beyond it stands she who, though early lost, has been 
 the constant passion of my life. Perhaps ray heart may 
 have pined under the privation of her society as sensibly as 
 yours under afflictions more strange in the eyes of the world. 
 But it is not wise — it does not give strength, but impair it— 
 thus to* compare human afflictions. I should prefer cheer- 
 fully encouraging each other to wait for release ; I see little 
 prospect of any release this day for us exiles ; so let me see 
 what my memory is worth in my old age — let me see what 
 I can recall of our Janet. You know I always consider 
 Janet my own by favouritism ; and she called me grandfather 
 the last time wc met, as she used to do before she was able 
 to spell so long a word." 
 
 He told so much of Janet, that Lady Carse changed her 
 opinion about his loss of memory. Again Annie stole home : 
 and there did the President seek her, after a long conversa- 
 tion with her neighbour. 
 
 "I wish to know," said he, "whether the great change 
 that I observe in this lady is recent." 
 
OPENINGS. 23s 
 
 "She is greatly changed withio a few months," replied the 
 widow: "and I think she has sunk within a few days. I 
 see, sir, that you look for her release soon." 
 
 " If the change has been rapid of late," he replied, " it is 
 my opinion that she is dying." 
 
 " Is there anything that you would wish done ? " asked 
 Annie. 
 
 "What can we do? I perceive that she is in possession 
 of what is perhaps the only aid her case admits of — a friend 
 who can at once soothe her earthly life, and feed her 
 heavenly one." 
 
 Annie bowed her head, and then said— 
 
 " You would not have me conceal her state from herself, 
 1 think, sir.'' 
 
 " I would not. I believe she is aware that I think het 
 Very ill — decisively ill. 
 
 "I hope she is. I have seen in her of late that which 
 makes me desire for her the happy knowledge that she is 
 going home to a place where she may find more peace than 
 near her enemies in a city of the earth." Fancying that the 
 President shook his head, Annie went on — 
 
 " I would not be presumptuous, sir, for another any more 
 than for myself: but when a better life is permitted to 
 begin, ever so feebly, here, surely God sends death, not to 
 put it out, but to remove it to a safer place." 
 
 The President smiled kindly, and walked away. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 FREE AT LAST ! 
 
 Sir Alexander and his girests remained on the island ■ 
 only a few days ; but during that time the President gave 
 Lady Carse many hours of his society. Full as his mind 
 was of public and private affairs — charged as he was with 
 the defence of Scotland against the treason of the Pretender 
 and his followers — grieved as he was by the heart-sorrows 
 which attend civil war — and now a fugitive, destitute of 
 means, and in peril of his life — he still had cheerfulness 
 and patience to minister to Lady Carse. From his 
 deliberate and courteous entrance, his air of leisure, his 
 quiet humour in conversation, and his clear remembrance' of 
 small incidents relating to the lady's family and acquaint- 
 ance, anyone would have supposed that he had not a care 
 ill the world. For the hour, Lady Carse almost felt as if 
 she had none. She declared herself getting quite well ; and 
 she did strive, by a self-command and prudence such as 
 astonished even Annie, to gain such ground as should 
 enable her to leave the island when the President did — that 
 is, as she and others supposed, when the spring should 
 favour the sending an English army to contest the empire 
 once more with the still successful Pretender. 
 
 But, in four days, there was a sudden break up. A 
 
 236 
 
FREE AT LAST. 237 
 
 faithful boatman of Sir Alexander's came over from Skye to 
 give warning of danger. There were no three men in 
 Scotland so hated by the rebels as the three gentlemen now 
 on the island ; and no expense or pains were to be spared in 
 capturing thera. They must not remain, from any mere 
 hope of secrecy, in a place which contained only women 
 and children. They must go where they could not only 
 hide, but be guarded by fighting men. It was decided to 
 be off that very moment. The President desired one half- 
 hour, that he might see Lady Carse, and assure her of his 
 care and protection, and of relief, as soon as he could 
 command the means. He entered as deliberately as usual, 
 and merely looked at his watch and said that he had ten 
 minutes, and no more. 
 
 " You must not go," said she. " We cannot spare you. 
 Oh, you need not fear any danger! We have admirable 
 hiding-places in our rock, where, to my knowledge, you can 
 have good fires, and a soft bed of warm sand. You are 
 better here. You must not go." 
 
 Of course the President said he must, and civilly stopped 
 the remonstrance. Then she declared, with a forced 
 quietness, 
 
 " If you will go, I must go with you. Do not say a word 
 against it. I have your promise, and I will hold you to it. 
 Oh, yes, I am fit to go— fitter than to stay. If I stay, I shall 
 die this night. If I go, I shall live to keep a certain 
 promise of mine — to go and see my Lord Lovat's head fall. 
 
238 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 I will not detain you ; we have five minutes of your ten yet. 
 I will be across the threshold before your ten minutes are 
 up. Helsa ! Helsa, come with me." 
 
 •' What is to be done ? " asked the President of Annie. 
 "You know her best. What if I compel her to stay? Would 
 there be danger ? " 
 
 " 1 think she would probably die to-night, as she says. If 
 she could convince herself of her weakness, that would be 
 best. She cannot walk to the shore. She cannot sit in an 
 open boat in winter weather.'' 
 
 "You are right. I will let her try. She may endure 
 conviction by such means." 
 
 " I will go with you to help her home." 
 
 " That is well ; but you are feeble yourself." 
 
 " I am, sir; but I must try what I can do." 
 
 Lady Carse was over the threshold within the ten minutes, 
 followed by Helsa with a bundle of clothes. She cast a 
 glance of fiery triumph back at the dwelling, and round the 
 whole desolate scene. For a few steps she walked firmly, 
 then she silently accepted the President's arm. Further on, 
 she was glad to have Helsa's on the other side. 
 
 " Let me advise you to return,'' said the President, pausing 
 when the descent became steeper. " By recruiting here till 
 the spring, you " 
 
 " I will recruit elsewhere, thank you. When I once get 
 into the boat I shall do very well. It is only this steep 
 descent, and the treacherous footing." 
 
FREE AT LAST. 239 
 
 She could not speak further. All her strength was re- 
 quired to keep herself from falling between her two supporters, 
 
 " You will not do better in the boat. You mistake your 
 condition," said the President. " Plainly, my conviction is, 
 that if you proceed you will die." 
 
 " I shall not. I will not. If I stay, I shall not see 
 another day. If I go, I may live to seventy. You do not 
 know me, my lord. You are not entided to speak of the 
 power of my will." 
 
 The President and the widow exchanged glances, and no 
 further opposition was offered. 
 
 "We may as well spare your strength, however," said the 
 President. "The boatmen shall carry you. I will call 
 them. Oh ! I see. You are afraid I should give you the 
 slip. But you may release my skirts. Your servants will 
 do us the favour to go forward and send us help." 
 
 The boatmen looked gloomy about conveying two women 
 — one of them evidently very ill ; and Sir Alexander would 
 have refused in any other case whatever. But he had 
 vowed to interfere no more in Lady Carse's affairs, but to 
 consider her wholly the President's charge. 
 
 "I see your opinion in your face," said the President to 
 hira, "and I entirely agree with you. But she is just about 
 to die, at all events ; and if it is an indulgence to her to 
 die in the exercise of a freedom from which she has been 
 debarred so long, I am not disposed to deny it to her. I 
 assume the responsibility." 
 
240 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 "My doubt is about the men," observed Sir Alexander-; 
 "but I will do what I can." 
 
 He did what he could by showing an interest in the 
 embarkation of the lady. He laid the cloaks and plaids 
 for her in the bottom of the boat, and spoke cheerfully to 
 her — almost jokingly — of the uncertainty of their destina- 
 tion. He lifted her in himself, and placed Helsa beside 
 her; and then his men dared not show further unwilhng- 
 ness but by silence. 
 
 Lady Carse raised herself and beckoned to Annie. 
 Annie leaned over to her, and said, 
 
 " Dear Lady Carse, you look very pale. It is not too 
 late to say you will come home with me." 
 
 Lady Carse tried to laugh; but it was no laugh, but a 
 convulsion. She struggled to say, 
 
 " I shall do very well presently, when I feel I am free. 
 It is only the last prison airs that poison me. If we never 
 meet again " 
 
 " We shall not meet in life, Lady Carse. I shall pray for 
 you." 
 
 "I know you will. And I— I wished to say — but I 
 cannot " 
 
 " I know what you would sa)'. Lie down and rest. God 
 be with you ! " 
 
 All appeared calm and right on board the boat, as long 
 as Annie could watch its course in the harbour. When it 
 disappeared behind a headland, she returned home to look 
 
FREE AT LAST. 
 
 241 
 
 r , 
 
 ,s> 
 
242 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 for it again. She saw it soon, and for some time, for it 
 coasted the island to the northernmost point for the chance 
 of being unseen to the last possible moment, It was 
 evidently proceeding steadily on its course, and Annie 
 hoped that the sense of freedom might be acting as a 
 restorative for the hour to the dying woman. Those on 
 board hoped the same ; for the lady, when she had covered 
 her face with a handkerchief, lay very still. 
 
 " She looks comfortable," whispered the President to Sir 
 Alexander. " Can you suggest anything more that we can 
 do?" 
 
 "Better let her sleep while she can, my lord. She 
 appears comfortable at present" 
 
 Three more hours passed without anything being observ- 
 able in Lady Carse, but such slight movements now and 
 then as showed that she was not asleep. She then drew 
 the handkerchief from her face and looked up at Helsa, 
 who exclaimed at the change in the countenance. The 
 President bent over her, and caught her words — 
 
 " It is not your fault— but I am dying. But I am sure I 
 should have died on land, and before this. And I have es- 
 caped ! Tell my husband so." 
 
 " I will. Shall I raise you ? " 
 
 " No ; take no notice. I cannot bear to be pitied. I 
 will not be pitied; as this was my own act. But it is 
 hard " 
 
 "It is hard : but you have only to pass one other threshold 
 
FREE AT LAST. 243 
 
 courageously, and then you are free indeed. Man cannot 
 harm you there." 
 
 " But, to-day, of all seasons " 
 
 " It is hard : but you have done with captivity. No more 
 captivity ! My dear Lady Carse, what remains ! What is it 
 you would have ? You would not wish for vengeance ! No 1 
 it is pain ! — you are in pain. Shall I raise you ? " 
 
 " No, no ; never mind the pain ! But I did hope to see 
 my husband again." 
 
 " To forgive him. You mean, to forgive him ? " 
 
 « No ! I meant " 
 
 •' But you mean it now ? He had something to pardon in 
 you." 
 
 " True. But I cannot Do not ask me." 
 
 " Then you hope that God will. I may tell him that you 
 hope that God will forgive him." 
 
 " That is not my affair. Kiss my Janet for me." 
 
 " I will ; and all your children — - What ? ' Is it grow- 
 ing dark ? ' Yes, it is, to us as well as to you. What is that 
 she says ? " he inquired of Helsa, who had a younger and 
 quicker ear. 
 
 " She says the widow is about lighting her lamp. Yes, 
 my lady ; but we are too far off to see it." 
 
 " Is she wandering ? " asked the President. 
 
 "No, sir: quite sensible, I think. Did you speak, my 
 lady?" 
 
 " My love ! " 
 
244 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 " To Annie, my lady ? I will not forget." 
 
 She spoke no more. Sir Alexander contrived to keep 
 from the knowledge of the boatmen for some hours that 
 there was a corpse on board. When they could conceal it 
 no longer, they forgot their fatigue in their superstition, and 
 rowed, as for their lives, to the nearest point of land. This 
 happened, fortunately, to be within the territories of Sir 
 Alexander Macdonald. 
 
 In the early dawn the boat touched at Vaternish Point, 
 and there landed the body, which, with Helsa for its 
 attendant, was committed by Sir Alexander to a clans- 
 man who was to summon a distant minister, and see the 
 remains interred in the church at Trunban, where they 
 now lie. 
 
 When the President returned to his estate at Culloden, 
 in tlie ensuing spring, on the final overthrow of the 
 Jacobite cause, his first use of the re-established post was 
 to write to Lord Carse, in London, tidings of his wife's 
 death, promising all particulars if he found that his letter 
 reached its destination in safety. The reply he received 
 was this : — 
 
 " I most heartily thank you, my dear friend, for the notice 
 you have given me of the death of that person. It would be 
 a ridiculous untruth to pretend grief for it ; but as it brings 
 to my mind a train of various things for many years back, it- 
 gives me concern. Her retaining wit and facetiousness to 
 the last surprises me. These qualities none found in her, 
 
PREE AT LAST. 245 
 
 no more than common sense or good nature, before she 
 went to those parts ; and of the reverse of all which if she 
 had not been irrecoverably possessed, in an extraordinary 
 and insufferable degree, after many years' fruitless endeavours 
 to reclaim her, she had never seen those parts. I long for 
 the particulars of her death, which, you are pleased to tell 
 me, I am to have by next post." 
 
 " Hers was a singular death, at last," observed Lord 
 Carse, when he put the President's second letter into the 
 hands of his sister. " I almost wonder that they did not 
 slip the body overboard, rather than expose themselves to 
 danger for the sake of giving Christian burial to such a 
 person." 
 
 "Dust to dust," said Lady Rachel, thoughtfully. "Those 
 were the words said over her. I am glad it was so, rather 
 than that one more was added to the tossing billows. For 
 what was she but a billow, driven by the winds and 
 tossed? " 
 
 When, some few years after, the steward approached the 
 island on an autumn night, in honour of Rollo's invitation 
 to attend the funeral of the Widow Fleming, his eye uncon- 
 sciously sought the guiding light on the hill side. 
 
 "Ah!" said" he, recollecting himself, "it is gone, and we 
 shall see it no more. Rollo will live on the main, and this 
 side of the island will be deserted. Her light gone ! We 
 should almost as soon thought of losing a star. And she 
 herself gone ! We shall miss her, as if one of our lofty old 
 
246 THE BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 rocks had crumbled down into the sea. She was truly, 
 though one would not have dared to tell her so, an anchor- 
 age to people feebler than herself. She had a faith 
 which made her spirit, tender as it was, as firm as any 
 rocTc." 
 
 THE END. 
 
MISS MARTINEAU'S TALES. 
 
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