Chapter IV: An Unexpected Visitor

Coquette did not observe the presence of Lord Earlshope for some time. She was much engaged in the service, which was quite new to her. First of all, the Minister rose in his pulpit and read out a psalm; and then, under him, the Precentor rose, and begun, all by himself, to lead off the singing, in a strong harsh voice which had but little music in it. The tune was "Drumclog;" and as Coquette listened, she mentally grouped its fine and impressive melody with chords, and thought of the wonderful strength and sweetness that Mendelssohn could have imparted to that bare skeleton of an air. The people groaned rather than sung; there was not even an attempt at part-singing; the men merely followed the air an octave lower, except when they struck into quite a different key, and produced such dissonances as are indescribable. If the use of the piano were not entirely proscribed, she promised to herself that she would show the Whaup next morning the true character of that simple and noble air which was being so cruelly ill-treated.

There followed a long extempore prayer, and another psalm--sung to the plaintive "Coleshill"--and then there came the sermon. She tried hard to understand it, but she could not. It was an earnest and powerful appeal; but it was so clothed in the imagery of the Jewish prophets--so full of the technical phrases of the Scotch preachers--that she could not follow it. Her English had been chiefly gathered from the free and easy conversation of her father, and even that had been modified by the foreign pronunciation of her mother; so that such phrases as "the fulfilment of the covenant," "girding up the loins," "awakening unto grace," and so forth, conveyed no meaning to her whatever. In spite of her best endeavours she found herself dreaming of the Loire--of St. Nazaire, of Guérande, of the salt plains that lie between that town and Le Croisic, and of the Breton peasants in their _bragous-bras_ and wide hats, making their pilgrimages to the church of Notre Dame de Mûrier.

The sight of Lord Earlshope had made the Whaup both savage and wicked. He proposed to Wattie to play "Neevie, neevie, nick-nack"--an offer which Wattie looked upon as the direct instigation of the devil, and refused accordingly.

When, at last, Coquette caught the eyes of Lord Earlshope fixed upon her, she was surprised to see him so intently regarding her. There was something wistful, too, in his look; his face bearing an expression of seriousness she did not expect to find in it. During the brief period in which he talked to her he had left upon her the impression of his being merely a light-hearted young man, who had winning ways, and a good deal of self-confidence. But the fact is, she had paid no very great attention to him; and even now was not disposed to look upon his fixed gaze as anything beyond a mere accident. She turned her eyes aside; tried once more to follow the sermon; and again subsided into dreaming of Bourg de Batz, and the square pools of the salt plains, with the ancient walls of Guérande filling up the horizon of her imagination.

When the service was over, and they had got outside, the Whaup bundled them off on the road towards the Manse with but little ceremony, taking care that Coquette should be in front.

"What has changed you?" she said, in some surprise. "I did think you were good friends with me on coming to the church."

"Never mind," he said, abruptly; and then he added, sharply, "Did you see Lord Earlshope there?"

"Certainly I have seen him."

"What business had he there?"

"People go not to the church for business," she said, with a laugh.

"He has not been in that pew for years," said the Whaup, gloomily.

"Perhaps he is becoming a good man?" she said, lightly, making a careless effort to catch a butterfly that fluttered before her face.

"He has plenty to alter then," said the Whaup, with frowning brows.

She looked at him curiously, and laughed. Then she turned to the Whaup's brother.

"Wattie, will you run with me to the house?"

She held out her hand.

"No, I'll no," said Wattie. "Ye are a Roman, and can get absolution for a' the ill ye dae."

"I will, an' ye like," said the youngest of the brothers, Dougal, timidly.

"Come along, then!"

She took his hand, and, before Leezibeth or Andrew could interfere, they were fleeing along the rough road towards the Manse, far in front of the others. Dougal, young as he was, was a swift runner; but the foreign lassie beat him, and was evidently helping him. All at once Dougal was seen to stumble and roll forward. Coquette made a desperate effort to save him, but in vain; and while he fell prone upon the ground, she was brought nearly on her knees. The little fellow got up, looking sadly at one of his hands, which was sorely scratched with the gravel. He regarded her, too, dumbly; clenching his lips to keep himself from crying, although the tears would gather in his eyes. In an instant she had overwhelmed him with pitying caresses, and soft French phrases of endearment, while she carefully smoothed his torn hand with her handkerchief.

"You will come with me to my room, and I will heal it for you."

She carried him off before the others had arrived; and washed his hand; and put cold cream on it; and gave him a whole box of French chocolate--a dainty which he had never seen before, but which he speedily appreciated. Then she said,

"Come along, now, and I will sing you something--Alas! no, I must not open my piano any more."

It was the first time Dougal had ever heard anybody say "alas!"--a word which Coquette had picked up from her English books. He began to distrust all this kindness and all these fascinating ways. What Coquette knew of English was more English than Scotch in pronunciation. Now, everybody in Airlie was aware of the curious fact that all actors, and public singers, and such people, generally, as live by their wits, were English; and an English accent was therefore in itself suspicious. If this young lady in the white muslin dress, with the yellow ribbons in her black hair, was not actually French she was English, which was only a shade less deplorable. Dougal accepted the brown and sweet little balls of chocolate with some compunction, and hoped he was doing no mortal sin in eating them.

After the "interval," as it was technically called, they had to go to church again, and here Coquette's patience nearly gave way. Nor was the situation rendered less grievous by the Whaup informing her severely that in Airlie there was no such thing as idle walking about on the Sabbath--that the whole of the afternoon she would not even be permitted to go into the garden, but would have to sit indoors and read a "good book." The Whaup was not ill-pleased to have to convey this information: he fancied Lord Earlshope might be prowling about.

There was a "tea dinner" at four o'clock, consisting exclusively of cold meats, with tea added. Thereafter, the whole family sat down in solemn silence to their books--the list being the Bible, the Shorter and Longer Catechisms, Hutcheson's Exposition, Dr. Spurstow on the Promise, the Christian's Charter, Bishop Downham on the Covenant of Grace (these last "printed for _Ralph Smith_, at the _Bible_ in _Cornhill_"), and Josephus. By this copy of Josephus there hangs a tale.

Dougal, remembering that business of the chocolate, came over to Coquette, and whispered--

"If ye are freends wi' the Whaup, he'll show ye the third vollum o' Josephus."

Indeed, the boys manifested the most lively curiosity when the Whaup appeared bearing the third volume of Josephus in his hand. They seemed to forget the sunlight outside, and the fresh air of the moor, in watching this treasure. The Whaup sat down at the table (the Minister was at the upper end of the room, in his arm-chair) and the third volume of Josephus was opened.

Coquette perceived that some mystery was abroad. The boys drew more and more near to the Whaup; and were apparently more anxious to see the third volume of Josephus than anything else. She observed also that the Whaup, keeping the board of the volume up, never seemed to turn over any leaves.

She, too, overcome by feminine curiosity, drew near. The Whaup looked at her--suspiciously at first, then he seemed to relent.

"Have ye read Josephus?" he said aloud to her.

"No," said Coquette.

"It is a most valuable work," said the Minister from the upper end of the room (the Whaup started), "as giving corroboration to the sacred writings from one who was not himself an advocate of the truth."

Coquette moved her chair in to the table. The Whaup carefully placed the volume before her. She looked at it, and beheld--two white mice!

The mystery was solved. The Whaup had daringly cut out the body of the volume, leaving the boards and a margin of the leaves all round. In the hole thus formed reposed two white mice, in the feeding and petting of which he spent the whole Sunday afternoon, when he was supposed to be reading diligently. No wonder the boys were anxious to see the third volume of Josephus; and when any one of them had done a particular favour to the Whaup, he was allowed to have half an hour of the valuable book. There were also two or three leaves left in front; so that, when any dangerous person passed, these leaves could be shut down over the cage of the mice.

They were thus engaged when Leezibeth suddenly opened the door, and said--

"Lord Earlshope would speak wi' ye, sir."

Astonishment was depicted on every countenance. From time immemorial no visitor had dared to invade the sanctity of Airlie Manse on a Sabbath afternoon.

"Show him into my study, Leezibeth," said the Minister.

"By no means," said his lordship, entering, "I would not disturb you, Mr. Cassilis, on any account. I have merely called in to say a passing word to you, although I know it is not good manners in Airlie to pay visits on Sunday."

"Your lordship is doubtless aware," returned Mr. Cassilis, gravely, "that it is not any consideration of manners that leads us to keep the Sabbath inviolate from customs which on other days are lawful and praise-worthy."

"I know, I know," said the young gentleman, good-naturedly, and taking so little notice of the hint as to appropriate a chair; "but you must blame my English education if I fall short. Indeed, it struck me this morning that I have of late been rather remiss in attending to my duties; and I made a sort of resolve to do better. You would see I was at church to-day."

"You could not have been in a more fitting place," said the Minister.

Mr. Cassilis, despite the fact that he was talking to the patron of the living--Lord Earlshope's father had presented him to the parish of Airlie--was not disposed to be too gracious to this young man, whose manner of conduct, although in no way openly sinful, had been a scandal to the neighbourhood.

"He'll have a heavy reckonin' to settle i' the next worl'," Andrew used to say, "be he lord or no lord. What think ye, sirs, o' a young man that reads licht books and smokes cigaurs frae the rising o' the sun even till the ganging doon o' the same; and roams about on the Lord's day breaking in a wheen pointers?"

The boys looked on this visit of Lord Earlshope as a blessed relief from the monotony of the Sunday afternoon; and while they kept their eyes steadily directed on their books, listened eagerly to what he had to say. This amusement did not last long. His lordship--scarcely taking any notice of Coquette in his talk, though he sometimes looked at her by chance--spoke chiefly of some repairs in the church which he was willing to aid with a subscription; and, having thus pleased the Minister, mentioned that Earlshope itself had been undergoing repairs and redecoration.

"And I have no near neighbours but yourselves, Mr. Cassilis, to see our new grandeur. Will you not pay Earlshope a visit? What do you say to coming over, the whole of you, to-morrow, and seeing what I have done? I dare say Mrs. Graham will be able to get some lunch for you; and I should like your niece--whom I had the pleasure of seeing on her way here--to give me her opinion about an organ that has been sent me from abroad. What do you say? I am sure the boys will enjoy a holiday in the grounds, and be able to find amusement for themselves."

If the Whaup dared to have spoken, he would have refused in indignant terms. The other boys were delighted with the prospect--although they were still supposed to be reading. Coquette merely looked at Mr. Cassilis, apparently without much interest, awaiting his answer.

Mr. Cassilis replied, in grave and dignified terms of courtesy, that he would be proud to avail himself of his lordship's invitation; and added that he hoped this re-establishment of the relations which had existed between Earlshope and the Manse in the time of his lordship's father meant that he, the present Lord Earlshope, intended to come oftener to church than had been his wont of late. The hint was conveyed in very plain language. The young nobleman, however, took it in good part, and speedily bade them good evening. He bowed to Coquette as he passed her; and she acknowledged this little manifestation of respect, with her eyes fixed on the ground.