Big Game: A Story for Girls

by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

  THE TRUE CHURCH.

  Life flowed on very quietly and uneventfully at the Nag's Head duringthe next few days. The clergyman and his son were determined walkers,who set out each morning on a new expedition over the countryside, andat the evening dinner boasted of the number of miles they had traversed.What they had seen appeared to be of secondary importance, and theywere correspondingly depressed or elated according as they had fallenshort of, or surpassed previous records of distance.

  Mr Macalister sat in the garden, reading day-old editions of the"_Glasga He-rald_" from the front page to the last, while his wife madepilgrimages to the village shop to buy infinitesimal articles ofdrapery, and exchange details of domestic history with the good lady incharge of the emporium.

  Mr George Elgood went out fishing in a river two or three milesdistant, accompanied sometimes by his brother, but for the most part byhimself. He also sat at his bedroom window, writing by the hourtogether, and always and at all times he avoided his fellow-guests witha quiet persistence which could not be gainsaid. By the time thatMargot had been in the inn for four days, he had advanced to the pointof bidding her good-night and good morning, staring steadily at a pointabout a yard above her head, while on one historic occasion he evenbrought himself to remark that it was a fine day. Once also, looking upsuddenly at dinner, she met his eyes fixed upon her with an expressionof intent scrutiny; but he turned aside in evident perturbation at beingdiscovered, and though the little puss thereafter wore her prettiestdresses, and took special pains with the arrangement of her hair, theincident was never repeated.

  Goaded thereto by his sister's entreaties, Ronald had proposed himselfas the companion of a morning's fishing expedition, but he returned homebored and irritated, and could not be persuaded to repeat theexperiment. As Mr Elgood had left him at one point in the stream, andhimself repaired to another some two hundred yards distant, theopportunities for conversation had been limited, while not even a twitchof the line had rewarded his amateur efforts.

  Margot coaxed, reasoned, and finally stormed, but to no avail. In aquiet, amiable fashion, Ronald could be as obstinate as a mule, and hewas plainly determined to go his own way. The sun shone; thesurroundings were magnificent; he was free from the jarring dissensionsof home; in easy, light-hearted manner he was content to live for themoment, and shut his eyes to troubles ahead.

  "Remember what the Chieftain said to as the first day we were here!" heprotested vigorously. "We ought to cultivate the spirit of children; torejoice in the present, and trust for the future; whereas you want me tobegin worrying the very first thing. I do call it stupid of you,Margot!"

  "But, my dear boy--remember September! September is coming, and if youdon't bestir yourself to take advantage of this last chance, you will bebemoaning your hard fate, and calling out that your life is ruined! Do,for goodness' sake, descend from the clouds and be practical for once!I'd help you if I could, but how can I, when the man refuses even tolook at me?"

  Margot's voice took a plaintive tone as she uttered those last words.She was so unaccustomed to be ignored, that the editor's avoidancerankled in her mind. She found her thoughts persistently returning tohim in every period of leisure; when he was near, she was acutelyconscious of his presence; when he was absent, her mind followed afterhim, wondering where he was, what he was doing, and of what he wasthinking. Having once seen a glimpse of the real man when, in thecharacter of Elspeth, she had looked into his face, sparkling withyouth, kindliness, and humour, she understood that the abstracted figurewhich sat at the table at meal-times was but the shell of the realGeorge Elgood, and that, if the barriers of shyness and reserve couldonce be overcome, he would prove an even more fascinating companion thanhis brother. The desire to know him grew daily in intensity, while,unconsciously to herself, the personal element slowly predominated thethought of Ron and Ron's future.

  Now, as the brother and sister argued together, they were hurrying alongby the edge of the tarn on their way to service at the kirk, for thiswas Sunday morning, the fifth day after their arrival at the Glen.

  Ron, as usual, had been late in starting, and before the village wasreached his watch showed that it was already five minutes past the timewhen service began. They had been sternly directed by Mrs McNab to goto the kirk at the far end of the village, and inquire for the inn pew,but as it would take several minutes longer to traverse the length ofthe straggling street, Margot suggested that it would be wise to attendthe nearer of the two churches.

  "There can be no difference. They are both Presbyterian," quoth she, inher ignorance; so in they went, to be met in the doorway by an elder inhis Sabbath "blacks," his solemn face surrounded by a fringe of sandywhisker. The pews were very narrow and very high, shut in a box-likeseclusion by wooden doors; the minister, in his pulpit, was just givingout the number of the psalm, and the precentor, after tapping histuning-fork and holding it to his ear, burst forth into wailing notes ofsurprising strength and volume. Margot rose automatically to her feet,to subside in confusion, as the seated congregation gazed at her instolid rebuke. In this kirk it was the custom to sit while singing, andstand during prayers--a seemly and decorous habit which benightedSoutherners had difficulty in understanding.

  The singing of the metrical psalm sounded strangely in unaccustomedears. Of melody there seemed little or none. The notes ascended andfell, and quavered into odd, unexpected trills and shakes, but it wassung with an earnestness and an intensity which could not fail to beimpressive. The women, clean and tidy in their Sabbath bravery, satwith eyes fixed unwaveringly on their books; the children piped lustilyby their sides; at the door of the pews the heads of the differentfamilies peered over their spectacles at the printed words, theirsolemn, whiskered faces drawn out to abnormal length.

  In a corner by himself sat a weather-beaten old shepherd, singing withclosed eyes, his shaggy head waving to and fro in time with the strain.Up in this lonesome glen those words had been his stay and comfortduring a life of hardship. Like David of old, he had sung them on themountainside, and they had been as a guide unto his feet, a lamp untohis eyes. He needed no book and no spectacles to enable him to join hisnote to the strain. Margot looked at him with a thrill of understandingand reverence. A saint of God, a lowly dweller on earth, for whom waswaiting one of the "higher" places in the kingdom of heaven.

  The sermon was long and rambling, and somewhat difficult for Southernears to follow; there was a solemn collection taken in small boxessecured to long wooden handles, thrust in turns down the various pewswith somewhat comical effect; then the service was over, and Margot andRon came out into the village street, to find themselves face to facewith a stream of worshippers who were returning from the farther kirk.Foremost among the number was Mrs McNab, large and imposing to beholdin her Sabbath best, with her small husband ambling meekly by her side.Margot smiled at her in friendly fashion, and was dismayed to receive inreturn a glare of incredulous anger. What had she done to offend? Shecould not imagine what was wrong, and continued to stare blankly afterthe unbending figure, until presently her eye encountered another well-known face bent upon her with a smile. The Chieftain and his brotherwere close behind; so close that even the Editor's shyness could notattempt an escape. In another moment they were walking together, Margotbetween the two men, Ron on the outside, a few paces apart from therest.

  Margot glanced from one to the other with puzzled eyes. The Chieftainbeamed upon her frankly. The Editor looked, and looked away, knittinghis brows in embarrassment.

  "What have I done?" she cried eagerly. "Why is Mrs McNab so cross?All was peace and joy when we left the inn. I had done my very best tohelp her, and now--you saw how she scowled! How can I possibly haveoffended her in this short time?"

  The Chieftain chuckled softly.

  "A good deal, I'm afraid! I'm sorry for you, after all your efforts atconciliation. It's bad luck that you should have stumbled upon anunforgivable offence. I'm afraid
that there is no doubt that you willbe turned out of the inn, neck and crop. Not to-day, perhaps, as shewon't send out the trap, but certainly to-morrow morning."

  "I shan't go!" protested Margot defiantly. If eviction had beenprobable, she did not believe that the Chieftain would have taken it inso unperturbed a fashion; but it was evident that she had committed someoffence, and that he was aware of its nature. "But what have I done?"she continued urgently. "That's what I want to discover. There can'tbe any harm in going to church!"

  "Oh, can't there, just? That's the whole crux of the matter. You wentto the wrong church!"

  There was a pause of stunned surprise while Margot gasped, and Ron'ssleepy eyes brightened with curiosity.

  "The wrong church! How can that be? They are both ScotchPresbyterians? There is no difference between them?"

  "Only this difference, that the members of one kirk are hardly onspeaking terms with the members of the other! That their leaders are atlaw together in the Courts, and that feeling runs so high, even in thissleepy hollow, that Mrs McNab, being a Free, refuses to sell milk tothe `Wees,' and is shamed to the heart to think that a guest livingunder her house-roof should have condescended to attend their service.It will be all over the Glen this afternoon that the bonny lady fra theinn chose to give her offering of siller to the `Wees,' and they willbear themselves haughtily in consequence. Mrs McNab feels that she hasbeen humiliated the day in the eyes of the neighbourhood. No wonder shelooks coldly upon you!"

  Margot flushed with resentment and indignation, but before she couldspeak Ron burst into impetuous speech.

  "They quarrel? Up here? A handful of men and women among the greatmountains? How can they do it? How can they harbour ill-feeling?

  "And what can they quarrel about? There must be such tiny, trivialdifferences. I am thankful I am not a Dissenter!" cried Margot proudly."There are so many sects that one gets muddled among them all, and evenin the same one it appears that there are differences! I am thankfulthat I belong to the Church."

  The Chieftain looked at her quietly.

  "To which Church?"

  "The Church of England, of course."

  "Oh!" He elevated his light eyebrows expressively. "Because itsmembers have no quarrels with one another?"

  Margot frowned uneasily.

  "Oh, well--I suppose they have. But at the worst there are two parties,as compared to a dozen. You cannot deny that we are more united?"

  "I should not boast too much about the unity of a Church in which civilwar is permanently in progress; and what about charity and humility ofmind? Suppose now, suppose for a moment that a family of strangers cometo live in the house next your own in town, and you discover among otherthings that they are Dissenters. How does it influence your attitudetowards them?" He thrust his ruddy face nearer, staring fixedly intohers. "Answer me that! Feel just the same? Exactly the same? Nocooling off in the intention to call? _Quite_ sure you never used theexpression, `only Dissenters!' and passed by on the other side?"

  Margot's cheeks blazed. Her lids dropped, and the corners of her mouthdrooped in self-conscious shame. There was a moment's silence, then alow murmur sounded on her ear, and, looking up quickly, she saw theEditor's dark face turned upon his brother, with reproach written largein frowning brow and flashing eye. He was taking up the cudgels in herdefence; reproaching his own brother for forcing her into an awkwardposition.

  Margot's heart gave a leap of joy at the discovery; in the flash of aneye her mood, her outlook on life, the very scene itself, seemedtransfused with new radiance and joy. The sun seemed to peep outthrough the grey clouds, the underlying anxiety and worry of the pastdays took to itself wings, and disappeared. Her brown eyes thanked himwith a glance more eloquent than she was aware; she laughed softly, andher laugh was sweet as a chime of bells.

  "Yes, I have! I confess it. I've been narrow-minded and uncharitable,and a snob into the bargain. I've no right to throw stones... WhatChurch do you belong to, Mr Elgood?"

  The little man stood still in the middle of the road, throwing out hisarms on either side, with a gesture wonderfully eloquent. His round,chubby face shone with earnestness and exaltation.

  "To the Church of Christ! The Church of loyalty, and obedience, andlove towards the brethren! To the Church of Christ, wherever I find it!When will Christians learn to remember the points on which they agree,rather than those on which they differ? The questions of form andceremony; of Church government and ritual; how small they are, howunutterably trivial, compared to the great facts of the Fatherhood ofGod, and the sacrifice of Christ! Did the Power who made every one ofus with different faces and different forms, expect us all to thinkmathematically alike? I cannot believe it! It is our duty to trust inGod and love our brethren; to live together in peace, seeing the best ineach other, acknowledging the best, thinking no evil! To see men whomake a profession of religion quarrelling and persecuting each other fortrivial differences, is a ghastly spectacle--a ghastly spectacle!" Hewalked on, swinging his short arms to and fro, then suddenly looked upwith a keen glance into Ron's eager face.

  There were no traces of dreaminess in the brown eyes at this moment; thedilated pupil gave to them an appearance of extraordinary depth andintensity; it was easy to see that the lad had been swept off his feetby the rugged force of the speaker's words, and was kindled into a likeenthusiasm.

  Lads of nineteen and twenty make it so much a matter of principle tosuppress all exhibition of feeling, that it is almost startling to comeacross one who is not ashamed to betray a little human emotion. MrElgood evidently found it so, for he continued to cast those quickpeering glances until the inn was reached, and the little partyseparated, to prepare for the midday dinner.

  Margot walked slowly up the steep staircase leading to her room, and satherself down on the bed to think out the problem. More and more did shelong to pierce through the armour by which the strange, silent man wasenveloped; but how was it to be done? Opportunities were few and farbetween, and now, for the first time in her life, confidence in her ownpowers deserted her, and she was overcome by a strange new feeling ofhumility and doubt. Who and what was she, that such a man should stoopto accept her friendship; poor, unlettered girl that she was, while hewas acknowledged as one of the leading intellects of the day? Yet deepin her heart the thought lingered that between this man and herselfexisted a certain affinity, which, given an opportunity, might bridgeover greater gaps than that of intellect and learning. How was thatopportunity to be gained? She might be willing to sacrifice much toattain it, but there was one thing that could never be thrown on oneside--her natural maidenly pride and dignity! Not even for Ron's sakecould she bring herself to make advances to a man who, so far fromexhibiting any desire for her company, had gone markedly out of his wayto avoid it.

  Ron himself was useless in such circumstances, a creature of moods,living for the moment only, content to forget the future in theenjoyment of present good. To drive him into the Editor's companyagainst his will could do no good, since he would certainly revealhimself in his worst light, and in aggravating, topsy-turvy fashion hehad taken a violent fancy for the wrong brother.

  The Chieftain's geniality and candour, his boy-like lightness of hearton the one hand, his passion for right on the other, were fastdeveloping a species of hero-worship in the lad's mind. Margot foresawthat, as time passed by, the two would grow closer together, and thatany chance of intimacy with the other brother would retreat helplesslyinto the background. Unless--! Her face flamed as a possible solutionof the difficulty darted suddenly into her mind. Could she? Dared sherisk it? Yes, she could. It would be difficult, but she could bringherself to face it, if after a few days' consideration it still seemedthe only way out of the difficulty.

  Margot rose from the bed, and began quietly to prepare for dinner. Herface looked grave and anxious, but it had lost its troubled, frettedexpression. She had made up her mind what to do, and with the decisioncame rest an
d ease of mind.