Up in Ardmuirland Part 4

Luckily, the agent of the estate, being a man of kindly feelings, was willing to allow the poor woman to remain for a time in the cottage they had occupied, and Val had approached the proprietor on the subject of a pension. At present, however, beyond a liberal donation for Christian's benefit, nothing definite had been settled. We had all subscribed to buy her a sewing-machine, and as she was a clever seamstress she was able to make ends meet by dressmaking. She had her cow, and her few hens, so altogether, with the sale of eggs and occasionally of milk, she was able to provide for her little ones for the present. She was such a cheery, kindly little body that every one at Ardmuirland was her friend; this accounted in great measure for the unusual interest in her prospects.

I felt that it would be but neighborly to offer Christian my congratulations upon her approaching good fortune. Her little house stood near a belt of trees on a rising ground, a few feet from the road that led higher up the hill. No other habitation was within a mile of it, and its solitary position was quite enough by itself to suggest to any one that a man who had made money across the "drink"--as I heard an American once irreverently style the Atlantic--would scarcely be likely to stay for any considerable time in such an out-of-the-world spot. To my mind it seemed incredible that he could be content for long with the comparative luxury of Mrs. Dobie's inn.

Christian sat at her machine in her clean little kitchen when I arrived there, and she called to me cheerily through the open doorway to enter, and rose to receive me. She was a plain little woman, about forty years old, probably; she bore the marks of her many anxieties on her brow--too early scored with wrinkles. I could not help thinking, as I saw her, that no fine clothes that her rich relative might buy for her would ever make her anything else than a plain country body; in silks and satins, even, she would still be the same homely Christian.

"I came over to say how glad I am to hear of your good fortune," I said when the usual greetings had pa.s.sed, and I was seated in the chair of state by the fire--for the hillside was chilly, and fires were seldom wanting up there even in the summer weather.

"Thank you kindly, sir," was her answer. "Father Fleming was in himself yesterday, for the same reason. It is very good of the priest and yourself, sir, as well as our neighbors aboot, to take sic an interest in us. Indeed, I'm very thankful that G.o.d has been sae guid to us. It looks as though our troubles are coming to an end, with this guid news!"

"When do you expect your cousin?" I asked.

Christian took a letter from the mantelpiece, where a china dog had been guarding it.

"This is his last letter, sir," she said, with a touch of honest pride, as she handed it to me to read. "You will see what he says. He was to sail on the 14th, and that was about a fortnight ago. Mistress Dobie had a message to say that he would be there about the first of June.

He has business in Glasgow, which will keep him there a bit."

"It's a kind, friendly letter," I remarked, as I handed it back. "He speaks very nicely about you all."

"If only for the sake of the bairns, sir, I'm very thankful that we've foond sae guid a friend," she said with much feeling.

Jeemsie peeped in at the door just then. He was quite a handsome little chap, with regular features and a rather intelligent face.

"Jeemsie will be provided for now," I said, beckoning the child to me.

He came, shyly smiling, and put his hand in mine.

"Yes, thank G.o.d!" was the poor mother's reply. "It's been a trouble to me to know what to do for him, and especially what'll happen to the bairn when I'm taken. But Father Fleming says his cousin can put him to some kind of inst.i.tution for a year or two, where they can teach him to read and write and c.o.o.nt as well as any bairn wi' all his senses.

For he's nae daft!" she exclaimed, with motherly pride. "He's just as sensible as can be aboot most things. He kens as weel as Tam aboot searching for the eggs, and he loves to fetch water from the well in his little pail for me, bless him!"

"Yes, it's a great thing for the child that his cousin is coming to look after you all. Jeemsie will be made a man of. I once knew a postman who was afflicted like Jeemsie, and he did his work better than any of the other men in the same office. The postmaster was quite proud of him. He couldn't talk, poor man, so there was no danger of his wasting time in gossip."

I took my leave after chatting a while, and rejoiced as I pictured to myself on the way home the lightening of so many burdens which had pressed heavily on the shoulders of that brave little woman.

A week later and we heard through w.i.l.l.y that Mr. Gowan had arrived at Larrigie Inn.

"An' a freer mon wi' his money, Mistress Dobie says, ye'd niver wish to see," was his estimate of the newcomer. "He was treatin' the fellows wi' drams a' roond, the nicht he cam'; he wes sae glad to be bock i'

the auld place. He wes a loon o' fafteen when him an' his farther went an' to mak' their fortune in Ameriky, ye ken."

"I don't like to hear about that dramming business," was Val's comment to me later. "There's too much of that kind of thing already about here. However, we must make allowance for the man's natural joy at seeing his old haunts once more."

"Including the inn, I suppose! But he was too young when they left to have cultivated a very intimate acquaintance with that one!"

Gowan proved to be but one of our own rough crofters who had acquired so thin a veneer of civilization that it scarcely concealed the reality beneath. With a somewhat boisterous geniality he made instant friends with all of his former cla.s.s in the neighborhood. With Val and myself he was not altogether at his ease. An abrupt awkwardness of manner, which we put down to shyness, characterized our intercourse, which was of rare occurrence.

He drove up to Ma.s.s on a Sunday, not in a motor, but in the ordinary "machine" belonging to the inn--a kind of small wagonette, drawn by a single horse--in which he always occupied the seat next the driver, good-humoredly conveying any persons from that direction who might be coming up our way, either to kirk or "chapel."

We heard glowing accounts of his kindness to Christian and the children--of constant excursions to the town; of the purchase of unlimited clothing for all the family, and of many costly presents, such as watches for Christian and Tam, pretty trinkets for little Kirsty, and toys for each of the bairns. He seemed to be never happy out of their company; when they were not driving about the country, visiting neighbors, or picnicking on the hills, they took their more important meals at the inn. The two elder children seemed to have left school for good; we heard later that Gowan had arranged matters with the authorities, stating that he meant to take the family back to America with him, or at any rate to find them a home elsewhere should he make a lengthy stay in Scotland.

Things had gone on thus for three weeks before Val alluded to Gowan, or anything connected with him. But his words showed me as soon as he began to speak that he had been thinking much on the subject.

"I don't like this prolonged carnival of Gowan's," he remarked to me.

"It's doing no good. I hear of unlimited drinks at Larrigie day after day for all who choose to ask. Many of our young fellows are getting into the habit of dropping in there of nights and listening to the man's stories of life 't'other side.' He seems capable of standing a good deal of liquor himself, as he is never really overcome--only more coa.r.s.e and noisy, the more he takes. I have had complaints from several of the fathers of families about the harm he is doing."

"That's rather bad!" was my answer. "But what about the Logans? I hear that he means to take them off with him, and he doesn't appear to be a desirable guardian for those children, by all accounts."

"It is that I'm most anxious about," said Val.

And thereupon he became communicative. Things were really worse than I had thought. Gowan, it is true, still came to Ma.s.s, but he was fond of boasting to his boon companions that they had got beyond "all that nonsense in the States!" He had certainly, on his own showing, ceased to be a practical Catholic for years, and it was probable that his attendance at Ma.s.s and contribution of half a sovereign to the offertory every Sunday was merely the result of a desire to stand well in the estimation of the more staid members of the community, and might be cla.s.sed with the free drinks and other signs of friendliness to the district. The character of the man rendered Val naturally anxious about the future of Christian Logan and her children, if they were to depend upon him for support in a strange land among strangers.

"The one redeeming feature in his character," summed up Val, "is his genuine affection for the children. His wife died about two years ago, it seems, and he is too old to marry again. So he appears to have devoted himself to the idea of practically adopting these three little Logans."

"It seems to me a case of body versus soul for the poor little kids, if they are to trust to that old heathen for a proper bringing up. But the mother is a good woman, and has a will of her own."

"That's where it is so difficult to do anything," said Val sadly. "She does not understand the state of the case properly, though I've tried to make it plain to her. The fellow is an avowed Free Mason. He can not practise his religion, and in a kind of self-defense he rails against it--though not openly to Catholics, I believe. She is deluded enough to imagine that the influence of herself and the children will win him over to the right path again. But it's far more likely that he will win the children over to unbelief, if he is to become their practical parent. Christian acknowledges that his indulgence is spoiling Tam already."

It was almost dramatic that at that moment a knock at the room door should prove to be from Elsie, who announced the presence of Christian Logan in the "priest's room" asking for a few minutes' conversation with his Reverence.

The interview proved to be somewhat long. Val gave me an account of it later in the day. Gowan had proposed that Jeemsie should be placed without delay in an English inst.i.tution for the deaf and dumb, while the others traveled a little about Scotland before starting for America, as he had now decided to do. He had made his money in horse-dealing, it appeared, and was not satisfied with his present prosperous condition, but longed to make more money; probably, too, he was tired of idling, after a rather strenuous life spent in business.

Christian was willing to part with the little fellow for a time, but only on condition that he should go to a Catholic inst.i.tution, of which Val had told her previously. The idea infuriated Gowan. What did religion matter? Protestant inst.i.tutions of the kind were far in advance of Catholic. It was ridiculous to think of sending the boy anywhere except to a place thoroughly up-to-date. Finally he had refused to do anything in the matter unless he had free scope to place the child where he should think best.

The poor woman's eyes were opened at last. She was absolutely determined that Jeemsie should be given up to no authority that was incapable of teaching him all that was necessary for the practice of his religion. She had come to pour out her difficulties to Val, and to ask further advice. He, of course, applauded her decision, and strengthened her in the resolution she had made, even though it might lead to a temporary withdrawal of Gowan's liberality. Val was convinced that the man was too much attached to the children to break altogether with the Logans.

Gowan had expressed his intention of going up to settle definitely with Christian about the matter of Jeemsie, and she was most anxious for Val to be present. To this he had at once consented; for he felt it a foremost duty to protect the faith of the little lad. So next morning the interview would come off.

"It was a stormy conference!" was Val's first remark, when we met for lunch next day. "But we've won the victory for the little chap's faith, though it has cost us Gowan's further patronage!"

The man had refused to be persuaded to allow the priest to choose some inst.i.tution to which Jeemsie might safely be sent--merely because it was a priest who wished to have a voice in the matter, Val was inclined to think; for the Protestant Home which Gowan favored was in no way superior. They discussed the question in all its bearings, and eventually Gowan lost his temper and showed his hand. He meant to bring up all the children Protestants! He had learned by experience what a hindrance it was to have to submit in everything to the dictation of priests, and he was determined to have no more of it!

It was at that stage that Christian interposed. Very quietly but firmly she spoke her mind.

"If you expect me to risk the loss of my children's souls as well as my own for the sake of worldly advantages, Cousin Aleck, I may as well speak plainly. I would rather stay here and work myself to death than take your money."

This produced a terrific storm of abuse from Gowan. He called her "priest-ridden" and every kind of fool and idiot. She would soon learn to repent of her folly, for he would go straightway to a lawyer and change his will! Not a penny would she get--now or later--from him, as she would find one day to her cost! Then he dashed away without further discussion.

"The fellow is a brute!" was Val's conclusion. "They are well rid of him! What a blessing he showed himself in his true colors before it was too late!"

Gowan left the neighborhood that very day. No one knew his destination. Mrs. Dobie replied to all inquiries that Mr. Gowan had paid "like a gentleman," and she was "sorry that some people did'na ken when they were well off!"--alluding, of course, to Christian. But Mrs.

Dobie, not being "of the household of the Faith," could not be expected to show sympathy toward a course of action which robbed her of so profitable a guest.

Thus were our golden dreams dispelled! Ardmuirland, indeed, took some little time to recover from the dazzling visions which the coming of "the millionaire"--as Val and I delighted to style him in private--had called up, but in a year or so Gowan's name had become a mere memory to most of us. Christian alone--true to her baptismal name--held that memory in benediction; every night she and her little ones gave a prominent place in their family prayers to the "Cousin Aleck" whom they all regarded as a generous benefactor. It was not difficult to interpret the mother's intention in thus making the man a constant object of prayer; to her the possession of G.o.d's grace appeared a good beyond all earthly riches and delights, and I can well believe that she even rejoiced that she had been called upon to give testimony of the faith that was in her. Her sentiments were doubtless those of Tobias of old: "For we are the children of saints, and look for the life which G.o.d will give to those that never change their faith from him."

V

"DOMINIE d.i.c.k"