"I see. I see it all," declared Mr Ruthven. "Do not you, my dear?"

"Oh yes; I see. It will be delightful, will it not, Lady Ca.r.s.e?"

"That is as it may be," said Lady Ca.r.s.e. "It is a plan which may work two ways."

"I do not see how it can work to any mischief," Annie quietly declared.

"I will leave you to consider it. If you think well of the plan, I shall be found ready with my thread. If the steward returns, it will be very early, that he may not lose the tide."

As might be expected, Annie's offer was accepted; for even Lady Ca.r.s.e's prejudiced mind could point out no risk, while the success might be everything. There was something that touched her feelings in the patient care with which the widow sat, in the lamplight, winding the thread over and over the small slip of paper, so as to leave no speck visible, and to make a tight and secure ball.

The slip of paper contained a request that the reader would let Mr Hope, advocate, Edinburgh, know that Lady Ca.r.s.e was not dead, though pretended to be buried, but stolen away from Edinburgh, and now confined to the after-mentioned island of the Hebrides. Then followed Lady Ca.r.s.e's signature and that of the minister, with the date.

"It will do! It will do!" exclaimed Mrs Ruthven. "My dear, dear Lady Ca.r.s.e--"

But Lady Ca.r.s.e turned away, and paced the room, "I don't wonder, I am sure," declared Mrs Ruthven, "I don't wonder that you walk up and down.

To think what may hang on this night--Now, take my arm,--let me support you."

And she put her arm around the waist of her dear friend. But Lady Ca.r.s.e shook her off, turned weeping to Annie, and sobbed out, "If you save me--If this is all sincere in you, and--"

"Sincere!" exclaimed Annie, in such surprise that she almost dropped the ball.

"O yes, yes; it is all right, and you are an angel to me. I--"

"What an amiable creature she is!" said Mrs Ruthven to her husband, gazing on Lady Ca.r.s.e. "What n.o.ble impulses she has!"

"Very fine impulses," declared the minister. "It is very affecting. I find myself much moved." And he began pacing up and down.

"Sincere!" Annie repeated to herself in the same surprise.

"Oh, dear!" observed Mrs Ruthven, in a whisper, which, however, the widow heard: "how long it takes for some people to know some other people. There is Mrs Fleming, now, all perplexed about the dear creature. Why, she knew her; I mean, she had her with her before we ever saw her, and now we know her--Oh! how well, how thoroughly we know her--we know her to the bottom of her heart."

"A most transparent being, indeed!" declared Mr Ruthven. "As guileless as a child."

"Call me a child; you may," sobbed Lady Ca.r.s.e. "None but children and such as I quarrel with their best friends. She has been to me--"

"You reproach yourself too severely, my dear lady," declared the minister. "There are seasons of inequality in us all; not that I intend to justify--"

His wife did not wait for the end, but said, "Quarrel, my dear soul?

Quarrel with your best friends? You do such a thing! Let us see whether you ever quarrel with us; and we _are_ friends, are we not; you and we? Let us see whether you ever quarrel with us! Ah!"

Annie had finished her work; and she was gone before the long kiss of the new friends was over.

"It is only two days more to the sabbath," thought she. Then she smiled, and said, "Anyone might call me a child, counting the days as if I could not wait for my treat. But, really, I did not know what the comfort of the sabbath would be. The chapel is all weather-tight now; and thank G.o.d for sending us a minister!"

As all expected, up came the steward; very early and very angry. n.o.body from the minister's house cared to encounter him. He threw the letters down upon the threshold of the door, and shouted out that his bringing them back was more than the writer deserved. If he had read them, and made mischief of their contents, n.o.body could, under the circ.u.mstances, have blamed him. Here they were, however, as a lesson to the family not to lose their time, and waste their precious ink and paper in writing letters that would never leave the island.

As he was turning to go away, the widow opened her door, and asked if he would excuse her for troubling him with one little commission which she had not thought of the day before, and she produced the ball of thread.

Lady Ca.r.s.e was watching through a c.h.i.n.k in a shutter. She saw the steward's countenance relax, and heard his voice soften as he spoke to the widow. She perceived that Annie had influence with him, if she would use it faithfully and zealously. Next she observed the care with which he wrote in his note book Annie's directions about her commission, and how he deposited the precious ball in his securest pocket. She felt that this chance of escape, though somewhat precarious, was the best that had yet occurred.

Before the steward was out of sight she opened the shutter, though it creaked perilously, and kissed her hand to the surprised Annie, who was watching her agent down the hill. Annie smiled, but secured caution by immediately going in.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

TRUE SOLITUDE.

The season advanced, bringing the due tokens of the approach of summer.

The gales came from the east instead of the west, and then subsided into mild airs. The mists which had brooded over sea and land melted away, and, as the days lengthened, permitted the purple heights of the rocky Saint Kilda to be seen clear and sharp, as the sun went down behind them. The weed which had blackened the sh.o.r.e of the island at the end of winter was now gone from the silver sands. Some of it was buried in the minister's garden as manure. The minister began to have hopes of his garden. He had done his best to keep off the salt spray by building the wall ten feet high; and it was thought that just under the wall a few cabbages might grow; and in one corner there was an experiment going forward to raise onions. Kate and Adam told the widow, from day to day, the hopes and fears of the household about this garden; and it was then that she knew that her son Rollo was now gardener, as he had been head builder of the wall.

From Rollo himself she heard less and less of his proceedings and interests. Anxious as she was, she abstained from questioning or reproving him on the few occasions when he spent an hour with her. She was aware of his high opinion of himself, and of the point he made of managing his own affairs; and she knew that there were those next door who would certainly engross him if anything pa.s.sed in his mother's house to make him reluctant to stay there. She therefore mustered all her cheerfulness when he appeared on the threshold, gave him her confidence, made him as comfortable as she could, and never asked him whence he had come, or how long he would stay. She had a strong persuasion that Rollo would discover in time who was his best friend, and was supremely anxious that when that time came there should be nothing to get over in his return to her--no remembrance of painful scenes--no sting of reproach--no shame but such as he must endure from his own heart.

Strong as was her confidence in the final issue, the time did seem long to her yearning spirit, lonely as she was. Many a night she listened to the melancholy song of the throstle from the hill-side, and watched the mild twilight without thinking of sleep, till was silent; and was still awake when the lark began its merry greeting to the dawn which was streaking the east. Many a day she sat in the sun watching the pathways by which she hoped her son might come to her; and then perhaps she would hear his laugh from behind the high garden wall, and discover that he had been close at hand all day without having a word to say to her. How many true and impressive things pa.s.sed through her mind that she thought she would say to him! But they all remained unsaid. When the opportunity came she saw it to be her duty to serve him by waiting and loving, feeling and trusting that rebuke from G.o.d was the only shock which would effectually reach this case, and reserving herself as the consoler of the sinner when that hour should arrive.

As for the other parties, they were far too busy--far too much devoted to each other to have any time to spare for her, or any thought, except when the children were wished out of the way, or when the much more ardent desire was indulged that her house could be had for the residence of Lady Ca.r.s.e and her maid. In spite of all the a.s.surances given to Lady Ca.r.s.e that her presence and friendship were an unmixed blessing, the fact remained that the household were sadly crowded in the new dwelling. There was talk, at times, of getting more rooms built: but then there entered in a vague hope that the widow's house might be obtained, which would be everything pleasant and convenient. At those times she was thought of, but more and more as an obstruction--almost an intruder. Now and then, when she startled them by some little act of kindness, they remarked that she was a good creature, they believed, though they considered that there was usually something dangerous about people so very reserved and unsociable.

One day this reserved and unsociable person volunteered a visit to her astonished neighbours. She walked in, in the afternoon, looking rather paler than usual, and somewhat exhausted. Mr Ruthven was outside the door, smoking his pipe after dinner. He came in with the widow, and placed a stool for her. His wife was not in the room. Lady Ca.r.s.e was lying on the settle, flushed and apparently drowsy. She opened her eyes as Annie and the minister entered, and then half-closed them again, without stirring.

"Yes, I have been walking," said the widow, in answer to Mr Ruthven's observation. "But it is not that that has tired me. I have been only as far as Macdonald's. But, sir, I must go further to-night, unless I can interest you to do what must be done without loss of time."

The minister raised his eyebrows, and looked inquiringly. "I have learned, sir, that from this house invitations have been sent to smugglers to begin a trade with these islands, and that it is about to begin; and that this has been done by corrupting my son. I see well enough the object of this. I see that Lady Ca.r.s.e hopes to escape to the main by a smuggling vessel coming to this coast. I can enter into this.

I do not wonder at any effort the poor lady makes--"

"You insufferable woman!" cried Lady Ca.r.s.e, starting up from her half-sleep with a glowing face and a clenched hand. "Do you dare to pity me?"

"I do, madam: and I ask of you in return--I implore you to pity me.

This is the bitterest day to me since that which made my boy fatherless.

I have this day discovered that my fatherless boy has been corrupted by those who--"

"I do not approve of innuendo," declared Mr Ruthven. "I recommend you to name names."

"Certainly, sir. My son has been made a smuggler by the persuasion and management of Lady Ca.r.s.e; and, as I have reason to believe, sir, with your knowledge."

"Here is treachery!" cried Lady Ca.r.s.e. "We must make our part good. I will--I know how--"

She was hastening out, when the minister stopped her at the door. She made some resistance, and Annie heard her say something about a pistol on the top of the bed, and the wonder if her father's daughter did not know how to use it.

Even in the midst of her own grief, Annie could not but remark to herself how the lady's pa.s.sions seemed to grow more violent, instead of calming down.

"You had better go, Mrs Fleming," said Mr Ruthven. "Make no disturbance here, but go, and I will come in and speak to you."

"How soon?" Annie anxiously enquired.

"As soon as possible--immediately. Go now, for Lady Ca.r.s.e is very angry."

"I will, sir. But I owe it to you to tell you that the adventure is put an end to. I have been to Macdonald's and told him, speaking as Rollo's mother, of the danger my son was in; and Macdonald will take care that no smuggling vessel reaches this coast to-night or in future."

"Go instantly!" exclaimed Mr Ruthven, and, seeing Lady Ca.r.s.e's countenance, Annie was glad to hasten out of her reach.