Rose Galbraith

by Grace Livingston Hill

  Of course she couldn’t broach the subject now without letting them know that the five hundred dollars was her entire fortune. That would put herself entirely under the power of her uncle, and she did not want to be sold in marriage to any lord, no matter how honorable he was, and certainly not to one who was the son of a man her own mother ran away from.

  She shivered a little and settled herself in her seat so that she could better see the landscape they were passing.

  There were other castles in the distance, high and clear against the sky. She wondered if these others held such hardhearted, unhappy people as the ones in Warloch Castle. She wondered about the different places they were passing and the people she saw at the railway stations where they stopped. How she wished she had an automobile of her own and could go exploring through the land until she knew all the places her mother had told about.

  Now and again they passed wonderful scenery. Great towering rocks shrouded in masses of trees and vines, great stretches of forest, and moor and meadows covered with heather. Then lovely lakes, connected by silver ribbons of rivers. As they came into Glasgow her excitement grew. Try as she would she could not keep herself from thinking how she would tell her mother about it all when she got home.

  But there was no home anymore, and Mother was not there. There was nobody to whom she could tell of this exciting journey. Only Gordon McCarroll. Would Gordon care to hear it? Perhaps if he wrote again and seemed to expect an answer, she would venture to describe how lovely it all was to her to see the sights about which she had read in the stories of George MacDonald, Ian MaClaren, James M. Barrie, and others. They had all come to life on this trip. She saw the beloved characters, beheld the mountains where they ranged, the cabins where they dwelt, the pastures where they led their sheep, the places where they folded them. In imagination she rode with old Doctor McClure over the hills to his beloved patients; she even found a real “bonnie briar bush” beside which she fancied Geordie Hoo might have lain in those last beautiful days of his lovely consecrated life. She wondered if there were now any such churches as they had in those days, where people knew the grand old doctrines that her father and mother had taught her from babyhood and where there was a vital Christianity, a spirit of love, like the little chapel at home which she and her dear mother had attended. Would she find a place to worship where God seemed close at hand? Not far away, as in the great cold sanctuary where Aunt Janet and Uncle Robert went. It seemed as if God had never been there, unless it was hundreds of years ago when it was first built, before all those unholy notables had been laid to rest beneath the paving stones. It seemed in that church as if only dead members were there, and the god they worshipped was dead also. She gave a little shiver of remembrance. Oh, she did hope so much that some of her Galbraith relatives went to a real church, where God was beloved, and Jesus Christ was a real vital Person who dwelt with men.

  At Glasgow Rose followed Donald’s directions and telephoned she was on her way. Donald told her carefully where to get a bus and just where he would meet her.

  She had a few minutes there to get a bite to eat, for the bit of scone Maggie had given her had long ago faded from her memory. Then she took the bus and began the lovely ride among the Trossachs.

  Now she felt she was journeying through old poems, and began to fancy every bit of water was Loch Lomond or Loch Katrine. Her face was bright with eagerness as she gazed upon the beauty of which she had heard so much.

  At last she reached Kilcreggan, more beautiful than them all, it seemed, with a castle there on a mountain, and wonderful vegetation all about. And there was her new cousin waiting for her!

  She had had letters and Christmas cards from him and the other cousins now and again during the years, and there had been some snapshots, but she had little idea how any of them would look. It was good indeed to see this hearty, robust lad, red-cheeked and bright-eyed, waiting for her with all the welcome she could have wished.

  It was a great contrast to her reception at the castle in Edinburgh. David came hurrying up just as the bus drove away. It was evident that he and Donald were genuinely glad to see her. He was as eager over her as his brother.

  “And how is Grandmother?” she asked presently, after they had put her in the ancient car and were preparing to go rattling down the pleasant village street.

  “She’s not well at all,” said Donald, with a shade of anxiety in his eyes. “It’s good you have come. She’s been in her bed all the day. It seems that she got the idea a few days back that she was not to see you this side of the Promised Land, and she’s well nigh given up. She stayed in bed Sunday, and she’s still there. We haven’t dared tell her you were coming lest she might be overexcited. Mother is going to tell her when she sees the car from the window. I’m to wave a signal to her when I turn the corner of the street. Oh, but I’m glad you’ve come.”

  “And I’m glad I came at once!” said Rose. “You see, my aunt and uncle were away at a funeral when your letter arrived, and there were only a few minutes to make the only train on which I could have reached here tonight. So I had to leave in a great hurry, and the servants were terribly upset by it. They thought they would be blamed for letting me go that way. There was an invitation to dinner that my uncle had made a great deal of, and I know he would have insisted that I stay for it. So I was glad they were not at home. It may make some trouble later, but I’m glad I’m away, even if it weren’t for Grandmother. Oh, I’m glad you sent me word!”

  Donald looked at his new cousin with approval and lapsed into Scotch.

  “Weel, and gload I am ye’re takin’ it that wy,” he said. “Thae lord and lady uncle and aunt are what you call in America ‘not so hot’ are they no? Is that right? A’ve been wantin’ to sue that phrase on somebody, sae I’m glad ye’ve come!”

  The three of them laughed and joked happily on the way home, till Rose suddenly sobered.

  “Is Grandmother really very sick?” she asked with a catch in her breath. “Oh, she isn’t going to be taken away too, just when I’ve got here, is she?”

  “I trust not,” said Donald gravely. “I think she’s got her nerves all worked up. Though that’s not like Gran’mither either. She’s always been so calm and matter-of-fact about things all our lives, that we couldna think what had come to her. And when she got to talking in that mournful way about not being able to see you before she was ‘awa’ I just made up my mind I’d let you know. It made us all heartsick to hear her grieve.”

  “Oh, I’m glad, so glad you wrote to me, and glad I could get away in time to make the train!”

  They talked on, getting really well acquainted, and Rose had a quick thought once about how nice it was going to be to have some real relatives to tell Gordon McCarroll about when she wrote again. And then the thought struck her weary young heart that perhaps he wouldn’t write again and so she would have no occasion to write further either.

  But there was no time to think such thoughts now, for they were passing through lovely mountainous scenery, with charming old houses nestled here and there among the trees, perched up on young mountains, or beside lovely glimmers of lake.

  “That’s where we go to church,” pointed David suddenly, looking up toward a huge stone house that was almost big enough to be a castle, nestled among tall trees and looking down toward the highway.

  “Go to church?” exclaimed Rose in wonder, looking toward the building. “What do you mean? Is it a church?”

  “Oh no,” said Donald. “That is, it wasna till oor meenister took it ower. It’s no kirk noo, though it’s got a pulpit, an’ a great congregation, an’ the best preacher a’ve ever heerd. But it’s no called a kirk. It’s a conference place. Fouk come there from all over the country an’ foreign lands, too, an’ stay. But they let the villagers in tae their meetin’s. Believe me they air blessed meetin’s. Yoong people, a many of them, an’ testimonies. It’s a couthy place. We’ll tak ye an’ let ye see!”

  “Oh, I’m so glad!” said Rose. “
I was wondering where you’d be going to church. I went with my aunt and uncle last Sunday and it was so desolate and empty. No helpful words, except from the scripture. You had to preach your own sermon to yourself if you wanted one. I thought maybe that was why my uncle and aunt looked so sad and kind of grim and hopeless.”

  “Puir souls!” said Donald pityingly. “From a’ we hear they’ve enough tae be dour aboot. They’ve na been kind e’en tae their own kin. But you probably know the tale weel.”

  “Oh yes,” sighed Rose. “I know the story all the way through, though of late I’ve tried to forget it for Mother’s sake. She wanted me to think as well as I could of her own sister you know. And I did try to see good in her, but it’s terribly hidden under formality and subserviency to riches and what people will think, and all that.”

  “Weel,” said Donald thoughtfully, “it may be mostly the auld lord’s fault. Gran’mither seemed tae think that Lady Warloch micht ha’ been something hersel’, but she was merried young, an’ the auld lord laid doon the law. It minds me my mither heard something o’ the life fram yir ain mither. Maybe I’m wrang!”

  “No, I think you’re right,” said Rose sorrowfully.

  “That auld lord ne’er kent his Lord Christ Jesus, I guess. He cudna really ken Him and be sae dour.”

  “No, I don’t think he could,” said Rose. And then suddenly she turned a blazing smile of joy on her cousin. “Oh, I’m so glad you know the Lord,” she said. “I’ve been feeling so alone ever since Mother died. Hardly anyone I’ve met seems to know the Lord. I was almost afraid to come here lest it would be the same.”

  “Say, now that’s blessed!” said Donald with a shy beautiful light in his eyes. “We wondered what like ye’d be! Ye’ll be havin’ some guid sorta kirk ower there in America, I’ll be thinkin’.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Rose. “It was only a small chapel, and they were plain people who attended it, but it’s where my father used to go, and Mother and I loved it, and so did he.”

  “That’ll be the uncle whom Davie and I remember saw weel,” said Donald quietly. “I wes only a wee b’y, but I mind his prayers sae weel. It seemed like heaven was juist coom doon in oor ain hoose, an’ God was standin’ close beside him. When my Uncle Gilbert prayed a’ cudna forget the sins a’d committed when a’ thought naebuddy wes thinkin’ o’ me!”

  “Yes,” said Rose softly. “He was like that. I remember his prayers, too.”

  “Y wud!” said Donald.

  They swept into a long lovely quiet street with thatched houses and trees lining the way, and high deep hedges.

  “Oh, how lovely! What a sweet quiet place!” said Rose.

  “This is home!” said David with a boyish ring of pride in his voice, and then they drove into the yard and helped their cousin out, and she felt as if she had reached a dear resting place.

  They took her into the house, and they all gathered around her. Her new uncle and aunt were there, and Kirsty, just scurrying in from putting a clean white cap on Grandmother, who had roused and was eager to see her grandchild.

  Rose was taken to kiss the soft lips and cheeks of the old lady whose skin was like warm velvet and whose soft tiny hands still had vigor to grasp the young hands of the girl. Such soft, vital little hands. And such kindly keen old eyes with the light of love in them! Rose felt that they were all just as her mother had described them. And they were taking her into their heart of hearts, every one of them, just as her mother had said they took her in when she first came among them, a stray and an outcast from her father’s city mansion. And how they had loved her mother. Rose could see they were going to love her just the same way.

  The grandmother wasn’t satisfied now to stay in bed. She wanted to get up and be one among them. But they persuaded her at last to let them draw the bed to the open door, where she could watch them all as they ate supper. David sat beside her and fed her some supper too, only she was too excited to eat. At last it was Rose who had to come and coax her to take spoonfuls of the smooth delicious porridge they had fixed her.

  Then supper over, Rose watched them from her quiet seat by Grandmother’s bed, as they cleared away the dishes, each one helping, and finally gathered around the fire.

  Rose, with her chair just inside the other door, her hand fast clasping the frail warm hand of Grandmother, watched the lovely service of family worship with joy in her heart. Her mother had told her of this, and she felt now as if her mother were kneeling there beside her as she knelt by her grandmother; as if Mother, too, felt the other frail old hand upon her head in blessing.

  The boys came and wheeled their grandmother back, tucked her up with a trim hand, and bade her kiss Rose goodnight. They shut the door and left her to Kirsty’s ministrations. Rose was taken to her own room and made at home, and then they all came back into the big room and got acquainted thoroughly.

  Such an unusual family her father had had! Her dear precious father! No wonder he was so wonderful when he came from a home like this!

  As she crept into her bed at last she felt, for the first time since her mother had left her, a real joy. This was home. As near to home as she could get until she could see her mother again and tell her all about it.

  In the morning when she woke, there was the sun shining broadly through her window, and the song of a bird in a tree nearby. There was the tinkling of the brook down in the garden, and the clucking of the hens, the mooing of the cow over in the meadow nearby. It was all so homey and lovely. Her heart almost seemed bursting with the joy of it. Just to get home where people loved each other and were not dourly fenced inside great castle walls. Just to be where there was life and warm hearts and loving glances, and where she was welcome. Ah, that meant so much!

  The work went slack that day, because they had so much to say to one another, until Rose began to notice and begged to be put to work also, and then it went better.

  Every once in a while Rose would go in and talk to Grandmother, who was being forced to stay in bed at least till the doctor came, much against her fretting and fuming.

  And then Kirsty took Rose out in the garden and down by the brook and over the meadow. Rose had never had time to have a girlfriend as well as cousin, and she was shy with her at first, but Kirsty looked at her with loving eyes, and it was easy to see that they would be warm companions.

  When Rose came in she brought a lovely sweetbriar rose to Grandmother.

  “Mother told me this was the first flower my father ever gave to her,” she said tenderly as she held it close for her grandmother to smell.

  “Oh, I mind it weel,” said the old lady, with a glint of passing glory in her eyes. “My b’y luved thae roses weel. He used tae say they were God’s fairest daisies. An’ yir mither lookit a daisy hersel’ wi’ a bunch o’ thae in her hair. She was a sweet thing, that Margaret, wi’ her blue eyes like twa stars; my Gilbert luved her like his ain soul. An’ yir a bit like her, though yir mair like my ain little Rose that’s gane the no, sae lang, sae lang!”

  So the day flashed on with a beauty days had not had for Rose since her dear mother had first been ailing. The evening and the morning were marked by worship, prayer, and scripture, and sometimes songs from glad hearts. Rose felt as if the home was blessed from morning till night. Once she thought about the castle, and she almost longed to go and tell those poor souls she had left behind what a difference it would make if they only knew the Lord well enough to talk to Him all through the day and at night. Could they ever be made to understand? Would they ever be willing to yield their proud selves to humility? Would there ever come a time when she would feel she could go to them and tell them, once at least, what they were missing? Would God let her do that some day? It seemed so pitiful for them to live on in the darkness and gloom of a castle that was only a tomb, when they could come out into the light.

  But such a thought was too startling to stay with her long, and now that she had found her place in the home and could bring help to them all, and comfort to grandmother
, the terrible ache that had come to her heart when her mother left her grew more bearable.

  And then one day came Gordon’s first letter!

  Chapter 14

  That letter from Gordon McCarroll, together with the book that arrived by the same mail, filled Rose’s heart with a great, deep joy. It brought back all the memory of her parting when she sailed. She felt again the touch of his lips on hers, the look of deep friendliness in his pleasant eyes, the warmth of his voice as he spoke those last words, and somehow he seemed to be standing right there beside her as she read the letter. It was almost unbelievable that Gordon McCarroll had become her real friend and that though the sea now rolled between them, she felt nearer to him than she had ever done. When they were in school together and she had seen him every day, she had felt as if a great gulf were between them. It had never before seemed as if he belonged at all to the world in which she lived, and now he was acting as if she were just one of his world, and it was wonderful. She wished so much that her mother could have known that he was to be so friendly. How pleased she would have been!

  She read the letter over several times and then went to humming a little tune while she made her bed and tidied up her room. And she remembered how her mother used to say, “It’s nice to have my little bird singing around the house as if she were happy!” and how she always used to answer, “But I am, Mother dear! I have you, haven’t I? And isn’t that enough to make a girl happy?” And then her mother would slip up softly behind her and put loving arms about her, and a kiss on the back of her neck.

  And now that mother was gone!

  The tears came quickly into her eyes as she thought of it. And then as she brushed them away, she hugged her letter to her heart and touched her lips softly to the written words.

  “Silly!” she told herself as she realized what she was doing, reminding herself over again that the kiss he had given her had been a mere touch of friendliness in parting because she had no one else to bid her farewell.