Margaret Oliphant - It was a Lover and his Lass

"The country people think it is haunted," said Lewis.

"No, no; that is just a fancy. It is not haunted, it is quite a new place. If you want a place that is haunted, there is our old Walk. There is no doubt about that. We are so used to it that nobody is frightened, and I rather like it myself. We will let you see that," Miss Jean said.

She was pleased with the stranger's bright face and deferential looks, and, in her simple kindness, was eager to find out something that would please him, though always with a doubt which dashed her pleasure whether she was doing what her sister would approve.

"That will give me great happiness," said Lewis again. "It is all to me very new and delightful to see the houses and the castles. I have been to Mr. Stormont's house to-day. I have seen a great many old châteaux abroad; but here it is more simple and more strange. To be great persons and seigneurs , and yet not any more great than that."

Miss Jean looked at him with a little suspicion, not understanding.

"We have never travelled," she said, after a little pause. "Which was a pity, I have often thought: and Margaret is of that opinion too. It might have made a great difference to us."

She sighed a little as she spoke, and Lewis felt a hot wave of shame and trouble go over him. She meant, no doubt, that, if they had travelled, he would never have been thus mingled in their fate. He did not know what to say, for a sudden panic seized him lest she should find him out. Good Miss Jean had no idea that there was anything to find out. She ate her little piece of chicken daintily, anxious all the time lest she should be detaining her companion from the dancing, or from the society of the young people.

"Supper was really quite unnecessary after such a tea. It is a thing we never take."

"You must try a little of this cream, Miss Jean," cried Mrs. Seton. "It is none of your confectioner's cream, that is all just froth put into a refrigerator, but our own making, and I can recommend it: or a little jelly. The jelly had scarcely time to stand; it is not so clear as I should like; but you know the difficulty with country cooks. And, Mr. Murray, I hope you will make a good supper. I am sure there is nobody we have been so much obliged to. Everybody is speaking about your wonderful playing. Oh, yes, yes, I am inclined to be jealous, that is quite true. They used to be very well content with me, and now they will think nothing of me. But I am just telling Katie that, if she thinks she is going to get a fine performer like you to play her bits of waltzes, she is very much mistaken. Once in a way is very well – and I am sure they are all very grateful – but now they must just be content, as they have always been hitherto with mamma. They are just ungrateful monkeys. You must be content with me, Katie, and very glad to get me. That is all I have to say."

"If Miss Katie would wish me to hold the piano for the rest of the evening? – that is, when I have re-conducted this lady to the drawing-room."

"Oh, will you?" cried Katie, with tones of the deepest gratitude. "It is only one waltz. Mamma never lets us have more than one waltz after supper; and it will be so kind; and we will enjoy it so much. Just one waltz more."

"But let it be a long one," the others cried, getting round him.

Lewis smiled, and waved his hand with the most genial satisfaction in thus so easily pleasing everybody.

"But I must first re-conduct this lady," he said.

"Was it Murray they called him?"

This question was put to Miss Jean, who had confessed, with a little hesitation, her rashness in inviting the stranger "to play his music" at the Castle, as the sisters walked home. It was a very sweet evening; not later than eleven o'clock, notwithstanding all the dancing. The ladies had left, however, before that last waltz, and the music continued in their ears half the way home, gradually dying away as they left the green lane which led to the manse, and got into the park. Miss Jean was, as she described afterwards, "really shy" of telling Margaret the venture she had made; for to meet a stranger whom you know nothing about out is a very different thing from asking him to your house, especially when it was a young man; and there was always Lilias to think upon. So that on the whole Miss Jean felt that she had been rash.

"To tell you the truth, I cannot say I noticed, Margaret. Yes, I rather think it was Murray; but you never catch a name when a person is introduced to you. And, after all, I am not sure. It might be me she was calling Murray – though, to be sure, she never calls me anything but Miss Jean."

"If it was Murray, it will be easy to find out to what family he belongs," said Miss Margaret. "And Lilias need not appear."

"Dear me," cried Miss Jean; "but that would be a great pity, Margaret, and a great disappointment to the young man. I thought to myself to ask him to come and play was a kind of liberty with a stranger, but then, I thought, it will be a pleasure to him, poor lad, to see such a pretty creature as our Lily. It is not much we have to give in return."

"I am not fond of young men coming to stare at Lilias," said Miss Margaret. "You forget she has no mother. You and me are bound to be doubly particular; and how do we know what might happen? She is very inexperienced. She might like the looks of him; for he has a pleasant way with him – or, even if it were not so bad as that, yet who can tell? it might be hurtful to the young man's own peace of mind."

"Well, that is true, Margaret," said Miss Jean. "I thought it would have been better to consult you first – but, dear me, one cannot think of everything; and it seems so innocent for two young people to meet once in a way, especially when the young man has his head full of his music, and is thinking about nothing else."

"That's a very rare case, I am thinking," Miss Margaret said.

"It is a very rare case for a young man to be musical at all," Miss Jean replied, with a little heat – which was an unquestionable fact on Tayside.

They went along noiselessly, with their softly shod and softly falling feet, two slim, dark figures in the pale twilight, with the maid trotting after them. But for her plump youthfulness, they might have been three congenial spirits of the place in a light so fit for spiritual appearances. There was nothing more said until they had almost reached home; then Miss Margaret delivered herself of the conclusion to which she had been coming with so much thought.

"It was perhaps a little rash – considering the charge we have, and that the young man is an utter stranger – but one cannot think of everything, as you say. And I cannot see why you should be deprived of a pleasure – there are not so many of them – because of Lilias. We will say just nothing about it. We will trust to Providence. The likelihood is she will be busy with her lessons, poor thing, and she will think it is just you playing the piano."

"Me!" cried Miss Jean, "playing like yon ."

"Well, well, you know I am no judge, and Lilias not much better. If he can satisfy me what Murrays he belongs to, and can stand a near inspection, she may come in; I'll make no objection," Miss Margaret said, graciously, as she opened the door.

The key was turned when the family went to bed, but the hall-door of Murkley Castle stood open all day long in primitive security. Miss Jean lingered a little upon the steps.

"It is just the night," she said, "to take a turn down the Walk."

"Oh, you'll not do that, mem!" cried Susie, the maid.

"And why not, you silly lassie? If you'll come with me, you will see there is nothing to fear."

"Eh no, mem!" cried Susie; "no, if you would give me the Castle to mysel'."

"What is that you are saying about the Walk? Come in, Jean, it is too late for any of your sentiment. And, Susie, my woman, go you to your bed. If we had any business in the Walk, both you and me would go, be you sure, and I would like to see you say no to your mistress. Come in, that I may lock the door."