William Black - White Heather - A Novel (Volume 2 of 3)

'But I must make a great deal of you now that you are going away,' said Miss Douglas, smiling.

'And Ronald – will I ask him to stay in till you come?'

But here there was some hesitation.

'Oh no, I would not do that – no doubt he is busy just now with his preparations for going away. I would not say anything to him – you and I will have tea together by ourselves.'

The smaller girl looked up timidly.

'Ronald is going away too, Meenie.'

Perhaps there was a touch of reproach in the tone; at all events Meenie said, after a moment's embarrassment —

'Of course I should be very glad if he happened to be in the house – and – and had the time to spare; but I think he will understand that, Maggie, without your saying as much to him.'

'He gave plenty of his time to the American young lady,' said Maggie, rather proudly.

'But I thought you and she were great friends,' Meenie said, in some surprise.

'It takes a longer time than that to make friends,' the girl said; and by and by she left.

Then Meenie went up to her room again, and sate down in front of the dull, smouldering peat-fire, with its heavy lumps of shadow, and its keen edges of crimson, and its occasional flare of flame and shower of sparks. There were many pictures there – of distant things; of the coming spring-time, with all the new wonder and gladness somehow gone out of it; and of the long long shining summer days, and Inver-Mudal grown lonely: and of the busy autumn time, with the English people come from the south, and no Ronald there, to manage everything for them. For her heart was very affectionate; and she had but few friends; and Glasgow was a great distance away. There were some other fancies too, and self-questionings and perhaps even self-reproaches, that need not be mentioned here. When, by and by, she rose and went to the piano, which was still open, it was not to resume her seat. She stood absently staring at the keys – for these strange pictures followed her; and indeed that one half-unconscious trial of ' I am asleep, do not waken me ' had been quite enough for her in her present mood.

Yes; it soon became clear that Meenie Douglas, in view of this forthcoming departure, had resolved to forego something of the too obvious reserve she had recently imposed on herself – if, indeed, that maidenly shrinking and shyness had not been rather a matter of instinct than of will. When Ronald came home on the following evening she was seated with Maggie in the old familiar way at a table plentifully littered with books, patterns, and knitting; and when she shook hands with him, her timidly uplifted eyes had much of the old friendliness in them, and her smile of welcome was pleasant to see. It was he who was diffident and very respectful. For if her mother had enjoined her to be a little more distant in manner towards this one or the other of those around her – well, that was quite intelligible; that was quite right; and he could not complain; but on the other hand, if the girl herself, in this very small domestic circle, seemed rather anxious to put aside those barriers which were necessary out of doors, he would not presume on her good-nature. And yet – and yet – he could not help thawing a little; for she was very kind, and even merry withal; and her eyes were like the eyes of the Meenie of old.

'I am sure Maggie will be glad to get away from Inver-Mudal,' she was saying, 'for she will not find anywhere a schoolmistress as hard as I have been. But maybe she will not have to go to school at all, if she has to keep house for you?'

'But she'll no have to keep house for me,' Ronald said at once. 'If she goes to Glasgow, she'll be much better with my brother's family, for that will be a home for her.'

'And where will you go, Ronald?' she said.

'Oh, into a lodging – I can fend for myself.'

At this she looked grave – nay, she did not care to conceal her disapproval. For had she not been instructing Maggie in the mysteries of housekeeping in a town – as far as these were known to herself: and had not the little girl showed great courage; and declared there was nothing she would not attempt rather than be separated from her brother Ronald?

'It would never do,' said he, 'to leave the lass alone in the house all day in a big town. It's very well here, where she has neighbours and people to look after her from time to time; but among strangers – '

Then he looked at the table.

'But where's the tea ye said ye would ask Miss Douglas in to?'

'We were so busy with the Glasgow housekeeping,' Meenie said, laughing, 'that we forgot all about it.'

'I'll go and get it ready now,' the little Maggie said, and she went from the room, leaving these two alone.

He was a little embarrassed; and she was also. There had been no amantium irae of any kind; but all the same the integratio amoris was just a trifle difficult; for she on her side was anxious to have their old relations re-established during the brief period that would elapse ere he left the neighbourhood, and yet she was hesitating and uncertain; while he on his side maintained a strictly respectful reserve. He 'knew his place;' his respect towards her was part of his own self-respect; and if it did not occur to him that it was rather hard upon Meenie that all the advances towards a complete rehabilitation of their friendship should come from her, that was because he did not know that she was moved by any such wish, and also because he was completely ignorant of a good deal else that had happened of late. Of course, certain things were obvious enough. Clearly the half-frightened, distant, and yet regretful look with which she had recently met and parted from him when by chance they passed each other in the road was no longer in her eyes; there was a kind of appeal for friendliness in her manner towards him; she seemed to say, 'Well, you are going away; don't let us forget the old terms on which we used to meet.' And not only did he quickly respond to that feeling, but also he was abundantly grateful to her; did not he wish to carry away with him the pleasantest memories of this beautiful, sweet-natured friend, who had made all the world magical to him for a while, who had shown him the grace and dignity and honour of true womanhood, and made him wonder no less at the charm of her clear-shining simplicity and naturalness? The very name of 'Love Meenie' would be as the scent of a rose – as the song of a lark – for him through all the long coming years.

'It will make a great change about here,' said she, with her eyes averted, 'your going away.'

'There's no one missed for long,' he answered, in his downright fashion. 'Where people go, people come; the places get filled up.'

'Yes, but sometimes they are not quite the same,' said she rather gently. She was thinking of the newcomer. Would he be the universal favourite that Ronald was – always good-natured and laughing, but managing everybody and everything; lending a hand at the sheep-shearing or playing the pipes at a wedding – anything to keep life moving along briskly; and always ready to give her father a day's hare-shooting or a turn at the pools of Mudal-Water when the spates began to clear? She knew quite well – for often had she heard it spoken of – that no one could get on as well as Ronald with the shepherds at the time of the heather-burning: when on the other moors the shepherds and keepers were growling and quarrelling like rival leashes of collies, on Lord Ailine's ground everything was peace and quietness and good humour. And then she had a vague impression that the next keeper would be merely a keeper; whereas Ronald was – Ronald.

'I'm sure I was half ashamed,' said he, 'when I got his lordship's letter. It was as fair an offer as one man could make to another; or rather, half a dozen offers; for he said he would raise my wage, if that was what was wrong; or he would let me have another lad to help me in the kennels; or, if I was tired of the Highlands he would get me a place at his shooting in the south. Well, I was sweirt to trouble his lordship with my small affairs; but after that I couldna but sit down and write to him the real reason of my leaving – '