Love has reasons, of which reason knows nothing.

Alas, how easily things go wrong!

A sigh too much, or a kiss too long, And there follows a mist and a weeping rain And life is never the same again.

No sooner was Mrs. Brodie's intention known, than all her friends were eager to help her. There was truly but little time between Monday morning and Wednesday night; but many hands make light work, and old and young offered their services in arranging for what it pleased all to consider as a kind of national thanksgiving.

The unanimity of this kindness gave Rahal a slight attack of a certain form of jealousy, to which she had been subject for many years, and she asked her husband, as she had done often before, "Why is it, Coll, that every woman in the town is eager to help and encourage Barbara if she only speaks of having a dance or dinner; but if I, thy wife, am the giver of pleasure, I am left to do all without help or any show of interest. It troubles me, Coll."

And Coll answered as he always did answer--"It is thy superiority, Rahal. Is there any woman we know, who would presume to give thee advice or counsel? And it is well understood by all of them that thou cannot thole an obligation. Thou, and thy daughter, and thy servants are sufficient for all thy social plans; and why should thou be bothered with a lot of old and young women? Thy sister Brodie loves a crowd about her, and she says 'thank thee' to all and sundry, as easily as she takes a drink of water. It chokes thee to say 'thanks'

to any one."

So Rahal was satisfied, and went with the rest to help Mistress Brodie prepare for her dance. There were women in the kitchen making pies and custards and jellies, and women in her parlours cleaning and decorating them, and women in the great hall taking up carpets because it was a favourite place for reels, and women washing China and tr.i.m.m.i.n.g lamps. Thora was doing the shopping, Ian was carrying the invitations; and every one who had been favoured with one had not only said "Yes," but had also asked if there was anything they could loan, or do, to help the impromptu festival. Thus, Mrs. Harold Baikie sent her best service of China, and the Faes sent several extra large lamps, and the bride of Luke Serge loaned her whole supply of gla.s.sware, and Rahal took over her stock of table silver; and Mistress Brodie received every loan--useful or not--with the utmost delight and satisfaction.

On Wednesday afternoon, however, she was faced by a condition she did not know how to manage. Ian came to her in a hurry, saying, "My friend, McLeod, is longing for an invitation from you, and he has asked me to request one. Surely you will send him the favour! Yes, I know you will."

"You are knowing too much, Ian. What can I do? You know well, laddie, he is not popular with the best set here."

"I would not mind the 'best set' if I were you. What makes them 'the best'? Just their own opinion of themselves. McLeod is of gentle birth, he is handsome and good-hearted, you will like him as soon as you speak to him. There is another 'best set' beside the one Adam Vedder leads; I would like some one to take down that old man's conceit of himself--there is nothing wrong with McLeod! Yes, he is Highland Scotch----"

"There! that is enough, Ian! Go your ways and bid the young man. Ask him in your own name."

"No, Mistress, I will not do that. The invitation carries neither honour nor good will without your name."

"Well then, my name be it. My name has been so much used lately, I think I will change it."

"Take my name then. I will be proud indeed if you will."

"You are aye daffing, Ian; I am o'er busy for nonsense the now. Give the Mac a hint that tartans are not necessary."

"But I cannot do that. I am going to wear the Macrae tartan."

"You can let that intent go by."

"No, I can not! A certain 'yes' may depend on my wearing the Macrae tartan."

"Well, checked cloth is bonnier than black broadcloth to some people.

I don't think Thora Ragnor is among that silly crowd. There is not a more quarrelsome dress than a tartan kilt--and I'm thinking the Brodies were ill friends with the Macraes in the old days."

"The Brodies are not Highlanders."

"You are a shamefully ignorant man, Ian Macrae. The Brodies came from Moray, and are the only true lineal descendants of Malcolm Thane of Brodie in the reign of Alexander the Third, lawful King of Scotland.

What do you think of the Brodies now?"

"The Macrae doffs his bonnet to them; but----"

"If you say another word, the McLeod will be out of it--sure and final."

So Ian laughingly left the room, and Mistress Brodie walked to the window and watched him speeding towards the town. "He is a wonderful lad!" she said to herself. "And I wish he was my lad! Oh why were all my bairns la.s.ses? They just married common bodies and left me! Oh for a lad like Ian Macrae!" Then with a great sigh, she added: "It is all right. I would doubtless have spoiled and mismanaged him!"

It is not to be supposed that Sunna Vedder kept away from all this social stir and preparation. She was first and foremost in everything during Monday and Tuesday, but Wednesday she reserved herself altogether for the evening. No one saw her until the noon hour; then she came to the dinner table, for she had an entirely fresh request to make, one which she was sure would require all her personal influence to compa.s.s.

She prefaced it with the intelligence that Boris had arrived during the night, and that Elga had met him in the street--"looking more handsome than any man ought to look, except upon his wedding day."

"And on that day," said Adam, gloomily, "a man has generally good cause to look ugly."

"But if he was going to marry me, Grandfather, how then?"

"He would doubtless look handsome. Men usually do when they are on the road of destruction."

"Grandfather! I have made up my mind to marry Boris, and lead him the way I want him to go. That will always be the way thou chooseth."

"How comes that?"

"I loved thee first of all. I shall always love thee first. Boris played me false, I must pay him back. I must make him suffer. Those Ragnors--all of them--put on such airs! They make me sick."

"What art thou after? What favour art thou seeking?"

"Thou knows how the girls will try to outdress each other at this Brodie affair----"

"It is too late for a new dress--what is it thou wants now?"

"I want thee to go to the bank and get me my mother's necklace to wear just this one night."

"I will not. I gave thy dead mother a promise."

"Break it, for a few hours. My Easter dress is not a dancing dress. I have no dancing dress but the pretty white silk thou gave me last Christmas--and I have no ornaments at all--none whatever, fit to wear with it."

"There are always flowers----"

"Flowers! There is not a flower in Kirkwall. Easter and old Mistress Brodie have used up every daisy--besides, white silk ought to have jewels."

Adam shook his head positively.

"My mother wishes me to have what I want. Thou ought not to keep it from me."

"She told me to give thee her necklace on thy twenty-first birthday--not before."

"That is so silly! What better is my twenty-first birthday than any other day? Grandfather, I cannot love thee more, because my love for thee is already a perfect love; but I will be such a good girl if thou wilt give me what I want, O so much I want it! I will be so obedient!

I will do everything thou desires! I will even marry Boris Ragnor."

And this urgent request was punctuated with kisses and little fondling strokes of her hand, and Adam finally asked--

"How shall I answer thy mother when she accuses me of breaking my promise to her?"

"I will answer for thee. O dear! It is growing late! If thou dost not hurry, the bank will be closed, and then I shall be sick with disappointment, and it will be thy fault."

Then Adam rose and left the house and Sunna, having seen that he took the proper turn in the road, called for a cup of tea and having refreshed herself with it, went upstairs to lay out and prepare everything for her toilet. And as she went about this business she continually justified herself:--

"It is only natural I should have my necklace," she thought. "Norse women have always adored gold and silver and gems, and in the old days their husbands sailed long journeys and fought battles for what their women wanted. My great Aunt Christabelle often told me that many of the old Shetland and Orkney families had gold ornaments and uncut gems, hundreds of years old, hid away. I would not wonder if Grandfather has some! I dare say the bank's safe is full of them! I do not care for them but I do want my mother's wedding necklace--and I am going to have it. Right and proper it is, I should have it now. Mother would say so if she were here. Girls are women earlier than they were in her day. Twenty-one, indeed! I expect to be married long before I am twenty-one."