Part 4 (1/2)
Trammelled by the fallen head-gear, Winsome threw her head back, shaking out her tresses in a way that Ralph Peden never forgot.
Then she caught at the strings of the errant bonnet.
”Oh, let it alone!” he suddenly exclaimed.
”Sir?” said Winsome Charteris--interrogatively, not imperatively.
Ralph Peden, who had taken a step forward in the instancy of his appeal, came to himself again in a moment.
”I beg your pardon,” he said very humbly, ”I had no right--”
He paused, uncertain what to say.
Winsome Charteris looked up quickly, saw the simplicity of the young man, in one full eye-blink read his heart, then dropped her eyes again and said:
”But I thought you liked lilac sunbonnets!”
Ralph Peden had now his turn to blush. Hardly in the secret of his own heart had he said this thing. Only to Mr. Welsh had his forgetful tongue uttered the word that was in his mind, and which had covered since yesterday morn all the precepts of that most superfluous wise woman, the mother of King Lemuel.
”Are you a witch?” asked Ralph, blundering as an honest and bashful man may in times of distress into the boldest speech.
”You want to go up and see my grandmother, do you not?” said Winsome, gravely, for such conversation was not to be continued on any conditions.
”Yes,” said the young man, perjuring himself with a readiness and facility most unbecoming in a student desiring letters of probation from the Protesting and Covenant-keeping Kirk of the Marrow.
Ralph Peden lightly picked up the books, which, as Winsome knew, were some considerable weight to carry.
”Do you find them quite safe?” she asked.
”There was a heavy dew last night,” he answered, ”but in spite of it they seem quite dry.
”We often notice the same thing on Loch Grannoch side,” said Winsome.
”I thought--that is, I was under the impression--that I had left a small book with some ma.n.u.script notes!” said the young man, tentatively.
”It may have dropped among the broom,” replied the simple maid.
Whereupon the two set to seeking, both bareheaded, brown cropped head and golden wilderness of tresses not far from one another, while the ”book of ma.n.u.script notes” rose and fell to the quickened heart-beating of that wicked and deceitful girl, Winsome Charteris.
CHAPTER VI.
CURLED EYELASHES.
Now Meg Kissock could stand a great deal, and she would put up with a great deal to pleasure her mistress; but half an hour of loneliness down by the was.h.i.+ng was overly much for her, and the struggle between loyalty and curiosity ended, after the manner of her s.e.x, in the victory of the latter.
As Ralph and Winsome continued to seek, they came time and again close together and the propinquity of flushed cheek and mazy ringlet stirred something in the lad's heart which had never been touched by the Mistresses Thriepneuk, who lived where the new houses of the Plainstones look over the level meadows of the Borough Muir. His father had often said within himself, as he walked the Edinburgh streets to visit some sick kirk member, as he had written to his friend Adam Welsh, ”Has the lad a heart?” Had he seen him on that broomy knowe over the Grannoch water, he had not doubted, though he might well have been fearful enough of that heart's too sudden awakening.
Never before had the youth come within that delicate AURA of charm which radiates from the bursting bud of the finest womanhood.
Ralph Peden had kept his affections ascetically virgin. His nature's finest juices had gone to feed the brain, yet all the time his heart had waited expectant of the revealing of a mystery.