Part 8 (2/2)
”Yes, I'm glad too that we've our books again,” answered Betty. ”I love reading. It's like living in a different world when I do.”
Helen smiled and squeezed her sister's arm. ”Did mother bring any other books up?”
”Yes, she brought three. One for herself, one for you, and one for me.”
Betty's face took on her inquisitive expression, and she chuckled. ”I don't believe that the soldiers forgot the books. They would have burned... Don't you think master Andrew secretly brought them back?”
Helen had the urge to avert her eyes, afraid to give herself away.
”Why do you think this?”
”Because I know that it was him who brought the plaids and brooches... And he gave you the oats and left the barley at our clachan, didn't he, Helen?”
She couldn't help blus.h.i.+ng. She felt that Betty was testing her. How did she guess? Who else knew about it?
”Don't deny it, Helen! It couldn't have been anybody else.”
”Yes, he brought the grains. Who knows?”
”I think mother must have guessed too, although she never said anything. None of the others seem to have questioned your story.” She laughed softly. ”How did you think of it?”
”It was the first thing that came to my mind-Betty, don't tell anybody that I told you, please. Father is already suspicious as it is.”
”I won't. This is our secret.” Her eyes became unfocused, a knowing smile playing around her mouth. After a few seconds she mused, almost in a whisper: ”I like him... He must fancy you much that he does all these things for you.”
Helen did not answer. Should she tell her? She wanted so much to confide in somebody she could trust, talk about her discovered love. But it would be unfair to make Betty her accomplice.
The girl searched for face expectantly. When Helen was not responding, she asked: ”Does he come to the lochan, Helen?”
Helen nodded. How did she know they met at the lochan?
”Often?”
”Yes.”
”Does he know that father threatened to kill him?”
”Yes, I told him.”
”And he still comes?”
Helen couldn't suppress a smile. She put an arm around Betty and hugged her. The girl searched her eyes as if trying to pry open a secret. ”I won't tell, Helen.”
”I know, Betty.”
Mary's gaze followed her daughter outside. She couldn't deny any longer what she had observed these last few weeks. Gone was Helen's gaunt look. She had filled in, not only in her face, but also her body. It couldn't be the result of their still barely adequate diet. In fact, many an evening she hardly touched her dinner, giving her portion to her brothers. So, she must get good, nouris.h.i.+ng food regularly from somewhere.
But it was more that just her appearance. She gave the impression of being content, happy, and more recently almost euphoric, like right now when she brought the milk from the lochan. More than once Mary had observed her humming placidly, something she had done as a small child, but not since she became a young woman, when her mood swings had often made her highly irritable and sometimes outright unpleasant.
Now that the immediate threat of starvation was over, thanks to Helen's 'find' and the prospect of soon having cattle, the question of where the grains came from-a question she had deliberately pushed aside-rea.s.serted itself and began to worry her. She had never believed Helen's claim about the oats, nor that the soldiers had left the barley behind-the jute bag used wasn't hers-but it hadn't mattered then. All that counted then was that they had sustaining food, particularly for the children. It didn't take much guessing to know who had given it to her daughter.
Her husband's failure to trace the mysterious rider to the lochan and Helen's denial of seeing anybody there had lulled her into a comfortable complacency. Any meetings between her daughter and master Andrew must have been fortuitous, at least on Helen's part, so she hoped. She couldn't believe that the girl would go against her clan's honor and a.s.sociate with a Campbell of Argyle. But then the books turned up, and now she wasn't so sure anymore.
She knew that she should feel grateful to him, if simply for killing the officer. But she could no longer ignore the nagging worry that had begun to stir. Her daughter must not get involved with that Campbell - nor any Campbell of Argyle or Breadalbane, for that matter, not after what had happened. Her husband had sworn that he would kill him. Hadn't he barely failed the other day? She needed to talk sense into her daughter before any blood was spilled. That much at least, she owed the young man.
She resolved to find out what there was to be found out.
Next morning, after Helen went off to the lochan, she called Betty.
”La.s.s, I want you to go to the lochan and keep an eye on Helen until noon. But make sure she doesn't see you. I don't want her to know.”
”Why, mother? Why do you want me to spy on Helen?”
Mary hesitated for a few seconds. ”Because she may be meeting somebody there.” She did not notice Betty's knowing look and continued: ”You heard what father said about almost catching master Andrew... I want to know if she meets him. But don't you tell anybody.”
”I could spy on her from the ridge. One can see the whole glen from there.”
”Yes, you do that and be back by noon.”
She sent the girl up to the ridge on the following days too.
7.
When Helen and Andrew met again on the rock three days later, both had flutters of shyness. They kissed timidly and then sat down side-by-side to their little banquet.
”That was rather sneaky of you to hide the books in the clachan, Andrew, without telling me.”
He smiled happily. ”I wanted to surprise you. Who found them?”
”Father found them, and mother brought several up to the s.h.i.+elings yesterday. When did you put them there?”
”About ten days ago. I was beginning to wonder if they would ever be found.”
”But how did you do it? The men started repairing the cottages before then.”
”I got there at dawn, before anybody was around.”
”Betty was thrilled. She guessed immediately that they hadn't been forgotten by the soldiers, but that you put them there.”
”Do your father and mother know also?” he asked alarmed.
”No, I don't think so. Betty promised not to tell.”
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