CHAPTER XXV
TRUE LOVE AND PIGNUTS
Mehitabel Smith calmly went to the inner door, and reaching down alinen smock, she slipped it on over her head and fastened it in witha belt at the waist. Wat and Scarlett moved meekly and obediently totheir several duties, and the business of breakfast-making went gaylyforward.
When Wat returned from the side-table with the bacon sliced, MehitabelSmith had the frying-pan ready and a fire of brushwood cracklingmerrily beneath it.
"Do you not think," she said, without looking at him, being busybuttering the bottom of the pan, "that fish and bacon go well togetherwhen one is hungry? For me, I am always hungry on Branksea. Were youever hungry in prison?"
Wat muttered something ungracious enough, which might have been takenas a reply to either question, but the girl went on without heedinghis answer. She sprinkled oatmeal over half a dozen fresh fish, andpresently she had them making a pleasant, birsling sound in the pan,shielding her eyes occasionally with her hand when they spattered.
"You must have been very happy in prison?" she said.
And for the first time she looked directly at him for an answer. Watwas astonished.
"Happy!" he said, "why, one does not expect to be very happy in a Dutchprison, or for that matter in any other. Prisons are not set up to addto folks' happiness that ever I heard."
"But what experiences!" she cried; "what famous 'scapes and chancesof adventure! To be in prison at your age (you are little more thana lad), and that for high-treason! Here on Branksea one has no suchadvantages. Only ships and seamen, pots of green paint, and hauling upand down the flag, or, at best, ninnies that think they ought to makelove to you, because, forsooth, you are a girl. Ah, I would rather bein prison a thousand years!"
Wat watched her without speaking as she moved nimbly and with a certaindeft, defiant ease about the sprucely painted kitchen.
"Do you believe in love? I don't!" she said, unexpectedly, turning thefish out on a platter and lifting the pan from the fire to prepare itfor the bacon which Wat had been holding all the time in readiness forhis companion.
"Yes, I do believe in love," said Wat, soberly, as though he had beenrepeating the Apostles' Creed. He thought of the little tight curlscrisping so heart-breakingly about the ears of his love, and also ofthe grave which had been dug so deep under the sand-hills of Lis. Therewas no question. He believed with all his heart in love.
The girl darted a swiftly inquiring glance at him. But her suspicionswere allayed completely by Wat's downcast and abstracted gaze. He wasnot thinking at all of her. She gave a sigh, half of relief and half ofdisappointment.
"Oh yes," she returned, quickly, "fathers and mothers, godfathers andgodmothers, tutors and governors--that sort of love. But do you believein love really--the love they sing about in catches, and which the ladsprate of when they come awooing?"
Wat nodded his head still more soberly. "I believe in true love," hesaid.
"Oh, then, I pray you, tell me all about her!" cried Mehitabel Smith,at once laying down the fork with which she had been turning the bacon,and sitting down to look at Wat with a sudden increase of interest.
Scarlett came in a moment after and sniffed, with his nose in the air;then he walked to the pan in which the bacon was skirling.
"It seems to me that the victual is in danger of burning," he said. "Ithink next time it were wiser for the Gray Badger to fry the pan, andfor those that desire to talk--ah! of high-treason--to go and fetch thewater."
Mehitabel started up and began turning the bacon quickly.
"A touch of the pan gives flavor, I have ever heard," she said,unabashed; "and if you like it not, Gray Badger, you can always stickto the fish."
When breakfast was over, Scarlett and Wise Jan were ordered to wash thedishes. This they proceeded to do, clattering the platters and rubbingthem with their towels awkwardly, using their elbows ten times morethan was necessary. Scarlett worked with grim delight, and Jan withmany grumblings. Then, having seen them set to their tasks, MistressMehitabel made Wat lift a pair of wooden buckets, scrubbed very white,and accompany her to the spring. She went first along the narrow pathto show him the way. She had taken off her cooking-smock, and was againin the neat kirtle of dark blue cloth, which showed her graceful youngfigure to advantage.
When they reached the well, Mehitabel appeared to be in no hurry toreturn. She sat down, and to all appearance lost herself in thought,leaning her chin upon her hand and looking into the water.
"There was a lass here but yester-morn, no further gone," she said,"who believed in love. She gave me this, and bade me show it to the manthat should come after her also believing in love."
She held out a small heart of wrought gold with letters graven upon it.Wat leaped forward and snatched it out of her hand.
"It is hers--Kate's. I have seen it a thousand times about her neck.She wore it ever upon the ribbon of blue."
And he pressed the token passionately to his lips. Mehitabel Smithlooked on with an interested but entirely dispassionate expression.
"I wonder," she said, presently, "if it is as good to be in love as tosit in the tree-tops and eat pignuts?"
But Wat did not hear her; or, hearing, did not answer.
"It is Kate's--it is hers--hers. It has rested on her neck. She hassent it to me," he murmured. "She knew that I would surely compass theearth to seek her--that so long as life remained to me I should followand seek her till I found her."
"Faith!" said Mehitabel, "I do believe this is the right man. He hasthe grip of it better than any I ever listened to. If he so kiss thegift, what would he not do to the giver?"
"Tell me," said Wat, looking eagerly and tremulously at her, "what saidshe when she gave you the token?--in what garb was she attired?--washer countenance sad?--were they that went with her kind?"
"Truly and truly this is right love, and no make-believe," said thegirl, clapping her hands; "never did I credit the disease before, butever laughed at them that came acourting with their breaking hearts andtheir silly, sighing ardors. But this fellow means it, every word. Hehas well learned his lover's hornbook. For he asks so many questions,and has them all tumbling over one another like pigs turned out of aclover pasture."
Wat made a little movement of impatience.
"I pray you be merciful, haste and tell me--for I have come far andsuffered much!"
The pathetic ring in his voice moved the wayward daughter of CaptainSmith of the _Sea Unicorn_.
"I will tell you," she answered, more seriously, "but in my own way.It was, I think, this lass of yours that sat here in the house-placeand talked with me but four-and-twenty hours agone. She looked not inill health but pale and anxious, with dark rings about her eyes. Thosethat were about her were kind enough, but watched her closely day andnight--for that was the order of their master. But I am sure that theLowland woman who was with her would, in an evil case, prove a friendto your love."
"And whither have they taken her?" asked Wat, anxiously.
Mehitabel Smith looked carefully every way before she attempted toanswer.
"The name of the place I cannot tell at present. It is an island,remote and lonely, in the country of the Hebridean Small Isles; but Iheard my father say that it bore somewhere near where the Long Islandhangs his tail down into the ocean."
"She has gone in your father's ship, then?" asked Wat.
"Aye, truly," said Mehitabel Smith; "but your lass is to be takenoff the _Sea Unicorn_ at some point on the voyage, and thence to herdestination in a boat belonging to the islanders. I heard the head manof them so advising my father."
As the girl went on with her tale, Wat began to breathe a little morefreely. He had feared things infinitely worse than any that had yetcome to pass. He was now on the track, and, best of all, he had thetoken which Kate had sent to him, in her wonderful confidence that hewould never cease from seeking her while life lasted to him.
Mehitabel watched him quietly and earnestly. At last she said, a littlewis
tfully, "I think, after all, it must be better than eating pignuts.I declare you are fonder of that lass than you are of yourself."
Wat laughed a lover's laugh of mellowest scorn. Mehitabel went on. "AndI suppose you want to be with her all the time. You dream about herhair and the color of her eyes; you will kiss that bit of gold becauseshe wore it about her neck. That is well enough for you. But to mythinking this love is but a sort of midsummer madness. For it is betterto sleep sound than to dream; any golden guinea is worth more than thattiny heart on a ribbon, and would buy infinitely more cates--while itis best of all to sit heart-free among the topmost branches of thebeeches and whistle catches while the sea-wind cradles you on the boughand the leaves rustle you to sleep like a lullaby. What, I pray you, isthis love of yours to that?"
"That you will know one day," said Wat, sagely nodding his head, "andit may not be long, for your eyes are looking for love, and in lovewhat one looks for that one finds. Hearken, I have stood one againstfifty for the sake of my love. Willingly and gladly I have left land,rank, friends, future; I have made them all no more than broken toysthat I might win my love. I count my life itself but a little thing,scarce worth the offering, all for her sake!"
"And is it because you hope to be so happy with her that you do allthese things?" asked Mehitabel, now perfectly sober and serious, andclearly anxious to comprehend the matter.
"Nay," answered Wat, in a low voice, "to be happy may indeed come tous--pray God it may, and speedily. But to prove one's love as a manproves the edge of his sword, to do somewhat great for the beloved, tobe something worthier, higher, better, to make your love glad and proudthat she loves you, and that she possesses your love--these are greateraims than merely selfishly to be happy."
Mehitabel sighed as she rose.
"I suppose it must be so," she said, "but it is a great and wearymystery. Moreover, I have yet to see the man I would choose beforea plate of early strawberries. And, anyway, pignuts, dug out of theground and eaten on the tree-tops, are right excellent good!"
Lochinvar: A Novel Page 28
