Shenac's Work at Home Part 14

Though Shenac took the matter quietly as far as the rest of the world was concerned, she "emptied her heart" to Hamish. To him she confessed she had grown a little doubtful of Allister.

"But, Hamish, I shall never doubt or be discouraged again. If Allister only comes safe home to my mother and to us all, I shall be content. We are too young, Hamish. It does not harm you, I know; but as for me, I am getting as hard as a stone, and as cross as two sticks. I shall be glad when the time comes that I can do as I am bidden again."

Hamish laughed. "Are you hard, Shenac, and cross? Well, maybe just a little sometimes. I am not afraid for you, though. It will all come right, I think, in the end. But I am glad Allister is coming home, and more glad for your sake than for all the rest."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

It is May-day again--not so bright and pleasant as the May-day two years ago, when Hamish and Shenac sat so drearily watching Angus Dhu's fence-building. They are sitting on the same spot now, and the children are under the big willow, sailing boats as they did that day--all but Dan. You could not make him believe that he had done such a foolish thing as that two years ago. Two years! It might be ten for the difference they have made in Dan. He only came back from the Grand River two days ago, and Shenac has not ceased wondering and laughing at the change in him. It is not merely his new-fas.h.i.+oned coat and astonis.h.i.+ng waistcoat that have changed him. He has grown amazingly, and his voice is almost always as deep and rough as Angus Dhu's; and the man and the boy are so blended in all he says and does, that Shenac has much ado to answer him as gravely as he expects.

"Hamish," he called out from the top of the fence on which he was sitting, "you are a man of sense, and I want to ask you a question.

Whose fence is this that I am sitting on? Is it ours, or Angus Dhu's?"

Hamish had not considered the question. Indeed, Dan did not wait for an answer.

"Because, it is of no use here. If it is ours, we'll draw the rails up to the high field, and get them out of the way before Allister comes home. If it belongs to Angus Dhu, we'll--we'll throw the rails into the creek."

"There's no hurry about it, is there?" said a voice behind him; and Dan, jumping down, turned about, and with more shamefacedness than Shenac would have believed possible, met the offered hand of Angus Dhu.

"I heard you had come back again, Dan, lad; and I thought you would not let the gra.s.s grow under your feet.--Are you for putting my good rails in the creek, Hamish, man?"

Hamish was laughing too much at Dan's encounter to be able to answer at once. Shenac was laughing too; but she was nearly as shamefaced as Dan, remembering her own encounter on the same ground.

"If it is Allister you're thinking about, he's not here yet, and you need not be in a hurry. And as to whether the rails are yours or mine, when the goods are bought and paid for there need be no words about the string that ties them. But for all that, Dan, lad, I have something to say to your mother yet, and you may as well let them be where they are a while.--Are you for sending my good rails down the creek, too?" he added suddenly, turning to Shenac.

"It was Dan's plan, not mine," said Shenac. "Though once I would have liked to do it," she added candidly.

"No, Shenac," said Hamish; "you wanted to burn it. Don't you mind?"

"O Hamis.h.!.+" exclaimed Shenac.

Angus Dhu smiled.

"That would be a pity. They are good rails--the very best. And if they were put up too soon, they can be taken down again. You have heard from your brother again?"

"No; not since about the time of your letter," said Hamish. "We are thinking he may be on the way."

For an instant an eager look crossed the face of the old man, but he shook his head.

"No. With gold comes the love of it. He will stay where he is a while yet."

"You don't know our Allister," exclaimed Shenac hotly.

But Hamish laid his hand on hers.

"Whisht. He's thinking of Evan," he said softly.

"He'll not be here this while yet," continued Angus Dhu, not heeding the interruption. "You'll have the summer before you, I'm thinking; and the question is, whether you'll take down the fence just now, while the creek is full," he added, smiling significantly at Dan, "or whether you'll let things be as they are till you have more help. I have done well by the land, and will yet, and give you what is just and right for the use of it till your brother comes. But for what am I saying all this to children like you? It is your mother that must decide it."

Accordingly, before the mother the matter was laid; but it was not the mother who decided it. Shenac could hardly sit still while he spoke of the time that might pa.s.s before Allister should come home. But when he went on to say that, unless they had more help, the boys and Shenac could not manage more land than they had already, she felt that it was true. Hamish thought so too, and said heartily to Angus Dhu that the land would be better under his care till Allister should come.

Dan was indignant. He felt himself equal to anything, and declared that, with two men at his disposal, he could make the farm look like a different place. But the rest had less faith in Dan than he had in himself. He did not conceal his disgust at the idea of creeping on through another summer in the old, quiet way, and talked of leaving it to Hamish and Shenac and seeking work somewhere else. But they knew very well he would never do that, now that Allister might be home among them any day; and he did not. There was no pulling down of the fence, however. It stood as firm as ever; but it was not an eyesore to Shenac now.

The spring pa.s.sed, and the summer wore away slowly, for there was no more word of Allister. Shenac did not weary herself with field-work, as she had done the last two years; for she felt that they might get help now, and, besides, she was needed more in the house. Her mother had allowed herself to think that only a few weeks would pa.s.s before she should see her first-born, and the waiting and suspense told upon her sadly. It told upon Shenac, too. In spite of her declaration to Hamish, she did feel anxious and discouraged many a time. Hamish was ill again, not always able to see to things; and Dan was not proving himself equal to the emergency, now that he was having his own way out-of-doors. That would not matter much, if Allister were come. He would set all things right again, and Dan would not be likely to resist his oldest brother's lawful authority.

But if Allister did not come soon? Shenac shrank from this question.

If he did not come soon, she would have something else to think about besides Dan's delinquencies. Her mother could not endure this suspense much longer. It was wearing out her health and spirits; and it needed all Shenac's strength and courage to get through some of these summer days. It was worse when Hamish went again for a few weeks to his uncle's. He must go, Shenac said, to be strong and well to welcome Allister; and much as it grieved him to leave his sister, he knew that a few weeks of the baths would give him the best chance to be able to help her should this sad suspense change to sadder certainty and Allister never come home again. So he went away.

Often and often, during the long days that followed his going away, Shenac used to wonder at herself for ever having been weary of the labour that had fallen to her during the last two years. Now, when her mother had a better day than usual, when little Flora could do all that was needed for her, so that Shenac could go out to the field, she was comparatively at peace. The necessity for bodily exertion helped her for the time to set aside the fear that was growing more terrible every day. But, when the days came that she could not leave her mother, when she must sit by her side, or wander with her into the garden or fields, saying the same hopeful words or answering the same questions over and over again, it seemed to her that she could not very long endure it. A fear worse than the fear of death grew upon her--the fear that her mother's mind would give way at last, and that she would not know her son when he came. Even the fear that he might never come seemed easier to bear than this.

Shenac Dhu helped her greatly at this time. Not that she was very cheerful herself, poor girl; but the quick, merry ways she would a.s.sume with her aunt did her good. She would speak of the coming home of Allister as certain and near at hand, and she would tell of all that was to be done and said, of the house that he was to build, and of the gowns that Shenac Bhan was to wear, while her aunt would listen contentedly for a while. And when the old shadow came back, and the old moan rose, she would just begin and go over it all again.

She was needed at home during the day; but all the time that Hamish was away she shared with Shenac Bhan the task of soothing the weary, wakeful nights of the mother. She sat one night in the usual way, speaking softly, and singing now and then, till the poor weary mother had dropped asleep. Rising quietly and going to the door, she found Shenac Bhan sitting on the step, with her head on her hands.

"Shenac," she said, "why did you not go to bed, as I bade you? I'll need to begin on you, now that aunt is settled for the night. You are tired, Shenac. Why don't you go to bed?"

Her cousin moved and made room for her on the step beside her. The children were in bed, and Dan had gone away with one of Angus Dhu's men to a preaching that was going on in a new kirk several miles away. It was moonlight--so bright that they could see the shadows of the trees far over the fields, and only a star was visible here and there in the blue to which, for a time, the faces of both were upturned.

"You're tired, Shenac Bhan," said her cousin again; "more tired than usual, I mean."

"No, not more tired than you are. Do you know, Shenac, your eyes look twice as big as they used to do, and twice as black?"

"Do they? Well, so do yours. But no wonder that you are growing thin and pale; for I do believe, you foolish Shenac Bhan, that it sometimes comes into your mind that Allister may never come home. Now confess."

"I often think it," said Shenac, in an awed voice.

"Toch! I knew it by your face. You are as bad as my aunt."

"Do you never think so?" asked our Shenac.

"Think it!" said Shenac Dhu scornfully. "I trow not. Why should I think it? I will not think it! He'll come and bring Evan. Oh, I'm sure he'll come."

"Well, I'm not always hopeless; there is no reason," said Shenac. "He did not say he would come at once; but he should write."

"Oh, you may be sure he has written and the letter has been lost. I hardly ever take up a paper but I read of some s.h.i.+p that has gone down, and think of the letters that must go down with it, and other things."

Each saw the emotions that the face of the other betrayed in the moonlight.

"And think of the sailors," continued Shenac Dhu. "O Shenac, darling, we are only wearying for a lost letter; but think of the lost sailors, and the mothers and sisters that are waiting for them!" A strong shudder pa.s.sed over Shenac Bhan.

"I don't think you know what you are saying, Shenac," said she.

"Yes; about the lost letters, and the sailors," said Shenac Dhu hurriedly. "The very worst that can happen to us is that we may lose the letters. G.o.d would never give us the hope of seeing them, and then let them be drowned in the sea."

The thought was too much for them, and they burst into bitter weeping.

"We are two fools," said Shenac Dhu, "frightening ourselves for nothing.