by Charles King
herself by his side. She had taken his hand, and hadplaced two white wee fingers on his pulse.
"I'll tell you, Annie mine--"
"Yes, I'm yours, and yours only, and ever shall be."
"Craig Nicol has been here, and we have quarrelled. He has cursed andabused me. He says I have stolen your heart from him, and now he mustfor ever hate me."
"But, oh, Reginald, he never had my heart!"
"I never knew he had sought it, dearest."
"Yet he did. I should have told you before, but he persecuted me withhis protestations of love. Often and often have I remained in my roomall the evening long when I knew he was below."
"Well, he cursed me from the bottom of his heart and departed. Notbefore I told him that our quarrel could not end thus, that I was tooproud to stand abuse, that when well I should fight him."
"Oh, no--no--no! For my sake you must not fight."
"Annie, my ain little dove, do you remember these two wee lines:
"`I could not love thee half so much, Loved I not honour more.'
"There is no hatred so deep and bitter as that between two men who haveonce been friends. No; both Craig and I will be better pleased after wefight; but this quarrel I fear must end in blood."
Poor Annie shuddered. Just at that moment Shufflin' Sandie appeared onthe scene. He was never far away.
"Can I get ye a plaid, Mr Grahame, to throw o'er your legs? It'sgettin' cold now, I fear."
"No, no, my good fellow; we don't want attendance at present. Thank youall the same, however."
Oscar, Reginald's great Newfoundland, came bounding round now to hismaster's side. He had been hunting rats and rabbits. The embrace hegave his master was rough, but none the less sincere. Then he lay downby his feet, on guard, as it were; for a dog is ever suspicious.
Annie was very silent and very sad. Reginald drew her towards him, andshe rested her head on his shoulder. But tears bedimmed her blue eyes,and a word of sympathy would have caused her to burst into a fit ofweeping that would probably have been hysterical in its nature. SoReginald tried to appear unconcerned.
They sat in silence thus for some time. The silence of lovers iscertainly golden.
Presently, bright, neatly-dressed Fanny came tripping round, holding inadvance of her a silver salver.
"A letter, sir," she said, smiling.
Reginald took it slowly from the salver, and his hand shook visibly.
"Annie," he said, somewhat sadly, "I believe this contains my sailingorders."
CHAPTER FIVE.
A DISCOVERY THAT APPALLED AND SHOCKED EVERYONE.
Reginald had guessed aright. The good barque _Wolverine_ would sailfrom Glasgow that day month, wind and weather permitting, for the SouthAtlantic, and round the Horn to the South Pacific Islands and SanFrancisco.
This was from the captain; but a note was enclosed from Mrs Hall,Reginald's pet aunt, hoping he was quite restored to health andstrength, and would join them some hours before sailing. She feltcertain, she said, that the long voyage would quite restore her, and herdaughter Ilda and wee niece Matty were wild with delight at the prospectof being--
"All alone on the wide, wide sea."
"Oh, my darling!" cried Annie, "I believe my heart will break to loseyou."
"But it will not be for long, my love--a year at most; and, oh, ourreunion will be sweet! You know, Annie, I am _very_ poor, with scarcemoney enough to procure me an outfit. It is better our engagementshould not be known just yet to the old Laird, your uncle. He wouldthink it most presumptuous in me to aspire to the hand of his heiress.But I shall be well and strong long before a month; and think, dearest,I am to have five hundred pounds for acting as private doctor and nurseto Mrs Hall! When I return I shall complete my studies, set up inpractice, and then, oh, then, Annie, you and I shall be married!
"`Two souls with but a single thought, Two hearts that beat as one.'"
But the tears were now silently chasing each other down her cheeks.
"Cheer up, my own," said Reginald, drawing her closer to him.
Presently she did, and then the woman, not the child, came uppermost.
"Reginald," she said, "tell me, is Miss Hall very beautiful?"
"I hardly know how to answer you, Annie. I sometimes think she is.Fragile, rather, with masses of glittering brown hair, and hazel eyesthat are sometimes very large, as she looks at you while you talk.But," he added, "there can be no true love unless there is a littlejealousy. Ah, Annie," he continued, smiling, "I see it in your eye,just a tiny wee bit of it. But it mustn't increase. I have plighted mytroth to you, and will ever love you as I do now, as long as the sunrises over yonder woods and forests."
"I know, I know you will," said Annie, and once more the head was laidsoftly on his shoulder.
"There is one young lady, however, of whom you have some cause to bejealous."
"And she?"
"I confess, Annie, that I loved her a good deal. Ah, don't look sad; itis only Matty, and she is just come five."
Poor Annie laughed in a relieved sort of way. The lovers said littlemore for a time, but presently went for a walk in the flower-gardens,and among the black and crimson buds of autumn. Reginald could walk butslowly yet, and was glad enough of the slight support of Annie's arm.
"Ah, Annie," he said, "it won't be long before you shall be leaning onmy arm instead of me on yours."
"I pray for that," said the child-woman.
The gardens were still gay with autumnal flowers, and I always thinkthat lovers are a happy adjunct to a flower-garden. But it seemed to bethe autumn buds that were the chief attraction for Reginald at present.They were everywhere trailing in vines over the hedgerows, supported ontheir own sturdy stems or climbing high over the gables and wings of thegrand old hall.
The deadly nightshade, that in summer was covered with bunches ofsweetest blue, now grew high over the many hedges, hung with fruitlikescarlet bunches of the tiniest grapes. The _Bryonia Alba_, sometimescalled the devil's parsnip, that in June snows the country hedges overwith its wealth of white wee flowers, was now splashed over with crimsonbudlets. The holly berries were already turning. The black-berried ivycrept high up the shafts of the lordly Lombardy poplars. Another tinyberry, though still green, grew in great profusion--it would soon beblack--the fruit of the privet. The pyrocanthus that climbs yonder wallis one lovely mass of vermilion berries in clusters. These rival incolour and appearance the wealth of red fruit on the rowan trees ormountain ashes.
"How beautiful, Annie," said Reginald, gazing up at the nodding berries."Do you mind the old song, dear?--
"`Oh, rowan tree, oh, rowan tree, Thou'lt ay be dear to me; Begirt thou art with many thoughts Of home and infancy.
"`Thy leaves were ay the first in spring Thy flowers the summer's pride; There wasn't such a bonnie tree In a' the countryside, Oh, rowan tree!'"
"It is very beautiful," said Annie, "and the music is just as beautiful,though plaintive, and even sad. I shall play it to you to-night."
But here is an arbour composed entirely of a gigantic briar, laden withrosy fruit. Yet the king-tree of the garden is the barberry, and Inever yet knew a botanist who could describe the lavish loveliness ofthose garlands of rosy coral. With buds of a somewhat deeper shade thedark yews were sprinkled, and in this fairy-like garden or arboretumgrew trees and shrubs of every kind.
Over all the sun shone with a brilliancy of a delightful September day.The robins followed the couple everywhere, sometimes even hopping on toReginald's shoulder or Annie's hat, for these birds seem to know byinstinct where kindness of heart doth dwell.
"Annie," said Reginald, after a pause, "I am very, very happy."
"And I, dear," was the reply, "am very hopeful."
How quickly that month sped away. Reginald was as strong as ever again,and able to play cards of an evening with Laird McLeod or LairdFletcher, for the latter, knowing that the farmer of Birnie-Boozle camehere no
longer, renewed his visits.
I shall not say much about the parting. They parted in tears and insorrow, that is all; with many a fond vow, with many a fond embrace.
It has often grieved me to think how very little Englishmen know aboutour most beautiful Scottish songs. Though but a little simple thing,"The Pairtin'" (parting) is assuredly one of the most plaintivelymelodious I know of in any language. It is very _apropos_ to theparting of Reginald and Annie o' the Banks o' Dee.
"Mary, dearest maid, I leave thee, Home and friends, and country dear, Oh, ne'er let our pairtin' grieve thee, Happier days may soon be here.
"See, yon bark so proudly bounding,
