Part 18 (1/2)
”As I understand it,” said Lionel, with a becoming diffidence, ”it was some suggestion of Captain Waveney's. He said the Free Church ministers were particular friends of the crofters--and of course the good-will of the crofters is of importance to a shooting-tenant--”
”The good-will of the crofters!” the bewigged old n.o.bleman broke in, impatiently. ”Are you aware, sir, that the Strathaivron Branch of the Land League met last week and pa.s.sed a resolution declaring salmon to be ground-game? What are you to do with people like that? How are you to reason with them? What is the use of pacifying them? They are in the hands of violent and malevolent revolutionaries--it is war they want--it is 1789 they want--it is plunder and robbery and confiscation they want--and the right of every man to live idle at the cost of the state! Why, G.o.d bless my soul! the idea that you are to try to pacify these ignorant savages--”
But here Lionel, who began to fancy that he had discovered another Octavius Quirk, was afforded relief; for the minister himself appeared; and at the very sight of him Lord Fareborough indignantly quitted the room. The minister, who was a rather irascible-looking little man with a weather-reddened face and rusty whiskers, inquired of Lionel whether it was possible to procure a gla.s.s of milk; but when Lionel rang the bell and had some brought for him, the minister observed that milk by itself was a dangerous thing in the morning; whereupon the butler had to be sent for, who produced the spirit-decanter; and then, and finally, the minister, boldly discarding the milk altogether, poured out for himself a good solid dram, and drank it off with much evident satisfaction.
Now the ladies began to make their appearance, some of them going along to the gun-room to hear what the head keeper had to say, others of them trooping out by the front door to guess at the weather. Among the latter was Miss Honnor Cunyngham; and Lionel, who had followed her, went up to her.
”A beautiful morning, isn't it?” he said.
”I'm afraid it's too beautiful,” said she, in reply. ”Look up there.”
And she was right. This was far too picturesque and vivid a morning to portend well for a shooting-day. Down at the farther end of the strath, the skies were banked up with dark and heavy clouds; the lake-like sweep of the river was of a sombre and livid blue; and between the indigo stream and the purple skies, a long neck of land, catching the sunlight, burned the most brilliant gold. And even as they stood and looked, a faint gray veil gradually interposed between them and the distant landscape; a rainbow slowly formed, spanning the broad valley; and then behind the fairy curtain of the shower they could see the yellow river-banks, and the birchwoods, and the farther-stretching hills all vaguely and spectrally s.h.i.+ning in the sun.
”But this is a very peculiar glen,” said she. ”It often threatens like that when it means nothing. You may get a perfectly dry, still day after all. And, Mr. Moore, may I ask you if what you said about your shooting yesterday afternoon was entirely true or only a bit of modesty?”
”If it comes to that,” he said, ”I never shot a grouse in my life--no, nor ever shot _at_ one.”
”Because,” she continued, with a certain hesitation which was indeed far removed from her usual manner, ”because you--you seem rather sensitive to criticism--to other people's opinion--and if you wouldn't think it impertinent of me to offer you some hints--well, for what they are worth--”
”But I should be immensely grateful!” he answered at once.
”Well,” she said, in an undertone, so that no one should overhear, ”you know, on the Twelfth, with such still weather as we have had for the last week or two, the birds are never wild; you needn't be in the least anxious; you won't be called upon for snap-shots at all; you can afford to take plenty of time and get well on to the birds before you fire. You see, you will be in the middle; you will take any bird that gets up in front of you; my brother and Captain Waveney will take the outside ones and the awkward cross-shots. And if a covey gets up all at once, they won't expect you to pick out the old c.o.c.k first; they'll do all that; in fact, you must put yourself at your ease, and not be anxious, and everything will be right.”
”Honnor!” called Lady Adela, ”Come away at once--breakfast is in.” So that Lionel had no proper opportunity of thanking the young lady for her friendly counsel and the interest she took in his small affairs.
Breakfast was a merry meal; for, as soon as the things had been brought in, the servants were allowed to leave; and while Lady Adela poured out the tea and coffee, the gentlemen carved for themselves at the sideboard or handed round the dishes at table. The Rev. Mr. MacNachten, the little Free Church minister, was especially vivacious and humorous, abounding with facetious anecdotes and jests and personal reminiscences; until, observing that breakfast was over, he composed his countenance and proceeded to return thanks. The grace (in spite of Lord Fareborough's nervous qualms) was comparatively a short one; and at the end of it they all rose and were for going their several ways.
But this was not to the minister's mind.
”Your leddys.h.i.+p,” said he, addressing his hostess in impressive tones, ”it would be ill done of us to be a.s.sembled on such an occasion without endeavoring to make profitable use of it. I propose to say a few words in season, if ye will have the kindness to call in the servants.”
Lady Adela glanced towards her husband with some apprehension on her face (for she knew the importance attached to the morning of the Twelfth); but whatever Sir Hugh may have thought, he made no sign.
Accordingly there was nothing for it but that she should ring the bell and summon the whole household; and in a few minutes the door of the room was surrounded by a group of Highland women-servants and gillies, the English servants rather hanging back in the hall. The breakfast-party had resumed their seats; but the minister remained standing; and presently, when perfect silence had been secured, he lifted up his voice in prayer.
Well, it was a sufficiently earnest prayer, and it was listened to with profound attention by the smart-looking la.s.ses and tall and swarthy gillies cl.u.s.tering about the door; but to the English part of his audience its chief features were its curiously exhortatory and argumentative character and also its interminable length. As the minister went on and on, the frown of impatience on Lord Fareborough's face deepened and deepened; he fretted and fumed and fidgeted; but, of course, he could not bring disgrace on his son-in-law's house by rising and leaving the room. Nor did it convey much consolation to the sportsmen to hear the heavy tramp of the head keeper just outside the windows; for they knew that Roderick must be making use of the most frightful language over this unheard-of delay.
But at last this tremendous oration--for it was far more of an oration than a prayer--came to an end; and the congregation drew a long breath and were about to seize their newly found liberty when the minister quietly remarked:
”We will now sing the Hundred and Twenty-First Psalm.”
”G.o.d bless my soul!” exclaimed Lord Fareborough, aloud; and Lady Adela flushed quickly; for it was not seemly of her father to give way to such anger before those keen-eyed and keen-eared Highland servants.
However, the Rev. Mr. MacNachten took no heed. He began to sing, in a slow and raucous fas.h.i.+on, and to the melancholy tune of ”Ballerma,”
”'I to the hills will lift mine eyes, From whence doth come mine aid;'”
and presently there came from the door a curious nasal wail, men and women singing in unison, and seemingly afraid to trust their voices. As for the people in the room no one tried to join in this part of the service--no one except Honnor Cunyngham, who appeared to know the words of the Psalm and the music equally well, for she accompanied the minister throughout, singing boldly and simply and without shyness, her clear voice making marked contrast with his raven notes. Nor was this all; for, when the Psalm was finished, the minister said,
”My friends, when it hath pleased the Lord that we should meet together, we should commune one with another, to the perfecting of ourselves for that greater a.s.semblage to which I hope we are all bound.” And then, without further preface, he proceeded to exhort them to well-doing in all the duties of life--as masters and mistresses, as servants, as parents, as children, as brothers, as fellow-Christians; while at the end of each rambling and emphatic pa.s.sage there came in a verse from Ecclesiastes: ”Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear G.o.d, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.”
Alas! there was no conclusion to this matter. The little, violent-faced minister warmed to his work, insomuch that several times he used a Gaelic phrase the better to impress those patient listeners at the door, while he paid less and less attention to the congregation in the room.