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CHAPTER IV: KELPIE'S AIRING
When Miss Horn left him--with a farewell kindlier than her
greeting--rendered yet more restless by her talk, he went back
to the stable, saddled Kelpie, and took her out for an airing.
As he passed the factor's house, Mrs Crathie saw him from the
window. Her colour rose. She arose herself also, and looked after
him from the door--a proud and peevish woman, jealous of her
husband's dignity, still more jealous of her own.
"The verra image o' the auld markis!" she said to herself; for in
the recesses of her bosom she spoke the Scotch she scorned to utter
aloud; "and sits jist like himsel', wi' a wee stoop i' the saiddle,
and ilka noo an' than a swing o' his haill boady back, as gien some
thoucht had set him straught.--Gien the fractious brute wad but
brak a bane or twa o' him!" she went on in growing anger. "The
impidence o' the fallow! He has his leave: what for disna he tak'
it an' gang? But oot o' this gang he sail. To ca' a man like mine a
heepocreet 'cause he wadna procleem till a haul market ilka secret
fau't o' the horse he had to sell! Haith, he cam' upo' the wrang
side o' the sheet to play the lord and maister here! and that I
can tell him!"
The mare was fresh, and the roads through the policy hard both
by nature and by frost, so that he could not let her go, and had
enough to do with her. He turned, therefore, towards the sea gate,
and soon reached the shore. There, westward of the Seaton, where
the fisher folk lived, the sand lay smooth, flat, and wet along the
edge of the receding tide: he gave Kelpie the rein, and she sprang
into a wild gallop, every now and then flinging her heels as high
as her rider's head. But finding, as they approached the stony
part from which rose the great rock called the Bored Craig, that
he could not pull her up in time, he turned her head towards the
long dune of sand which, a little beyond the tide, ran parallel
with the shore. It was dry and loose, and the ascent steep. Kelpie's
hoofs sank at every step, and when she reached the top, with wide
spread struggling haunches, and "nostrils like pits full of blood
to the brim," he had her in hand. She stood panting, yet pawing
and dancing, and making the sand fly in all directions.
Suddenly a woman with a child in her arms rose, as it seemed to
Malcolm, under Kelpie's very head. She wheeled and reared, and,
in wrath or in terror, strained every nerve to unseat her rider,
while, whether from faith or despair, the woman stood still as a
statue, staring at the struggle.
"Haud awa' a bit, Lizzy," cried Malcolm. "She's a mad brute, an'
I mayna be able to haud her. Ye ha'e the bairnie, ye see!"
She was a young woman, with a sad white face. To what Malcolm said
she paid no heed, but stood with her child in her arms and gazed
at Kelpie as she went on plunging and kicking about on the top of
the dune.
"I reckon ye wadna care though the she deevil knockit oot yer harns;
but ye ha'e the bairn, woman! Ha'e mercy on the bairn, an' rin
to the boddom."
"I want to speak to ye, Ma'colm MacPhail," she said, in a tone
whose very stillness revealed a depth of trouble.
"I doobt I canna hearken to ye richt the noo," said Malcolm. "But
bide a wee." He swung himself from Kelpie's back, and, hanging hard
on the bit with one hand, searched with the other in the pocket of
his coat, saying, as he did so--"Sugar, Kelpie! sugar!"
The animal gave an eager snort, settled on her feet, and began
snuffing about him. He made haste, for, if her eagerness should
turn to impatience, she would do her endeavour to bite him. After
crunching three or four lumps, she stood pretty quiet, and Malcolm
must make the best of what time she would give him.
"Noo, Lizzy!" he said hurriedly. "Speyk while ye can."
"Ma'colm," said the girl, and looked him full in the face for a
moment, for agony had overcome shame; then her gaze sought the far
horizon, which to seafaring people is as the hills whence cometh
their aid to the people who dwell among mountains; "--Ma'colm,
he's gaein' to merry Leddy Florimel."
Malcolm started. Could the girl have learned more concerning his
sister than had yet reached himself? A fine watching over her was
his, truly! But who was this he?
Lizzy had never uttered the name of the father of her child, and
all her people knew was that he could not be a fisherman, for then
he would have married her before the child was born. But Malcolm
had had a suspicion from the first, and now her words all but
confirmed it.--And was that fellow going to marry his sister? He
turned white with dismay--then red with anger, and stood speechless.
But he was quickly brought to himself by a sharp pinch under the
shoulder blade from Kelpie's long teeth: he had forgotten her, and
she had taken the advantage.
"Wha tellt ye that, Lizzy?" he said.
"I'm no at leeberty to say, Ma'colm, but I'm sure it's true, an'
my hert's like to brak."
"Puir lassie!" said Malcolm, whose own trouble had never at any
time rendered him insensible to that of others. "But is't onybody
'at kens what he says?" he pursued.
"Weel, I dinna jist richtly ken gien she kens, but I think she
maun ha'e gude rizzon, or she wadna say as she says. Oh me! me!
my bairnie 'ill be scornin' me sair whan he comes to ken. Ma'colm,
ye're the only ane 'at disna luik doon upo' me, an whan ye cam'
ower the tap o' the Boar's Tail, it was like an angel in a fire
flaucht, an' something inside me said--Tell 'im; tell 'im; an'
sae I bude to tell ye."
Malcolm was even too simple to feel flattered by the girl's confidence,
though to be trusted is a greater compliment than to be loved.
"Hearken, Lizzy!" he said. "I canna e'en think, wi' this brute ready
ilka meenute to ate me up. I maun tak' her hame. Efter that, gien
ye wad like to tell me onything, I s' be at yer service. Bide aboot
here--or, luik ye: here's the key o' yon door; come throu' that
intil the park--throu' aneth the toll ro'd, ye ken. There ye'll
get into the lythe (lee) wi' the bairnie; an' I'll be wi' ye in a
quarter o' an hoor. It'll tak' me but twa meenutes to gang hame.
Stoat 'ill put up the mere, and I'll be back--I can du't in ten
meenutes."
"Eh! dinna hurry for me, Ma'colm: I'm no worth it," said Lizzy.
But Malcolm was already at full speed along the top of the dune.
"Lord preserve 's!" cried Lizzy, when she saw him clear the brass
swivel. "Sic a laad as that is! Eh, he maun ha'e a richt lass to
lo'e him some day! It's a' ane to him, boat or beast. He wadna turn
frae the deil himsel'. An syne he's jist as saft's a deuk's neck
when he speyks till a wuman or a bairn--ay, or an auld man aither!"
And full of trouble as it was about another, Lizzy's heart yet
ached at the thought that she should be so unworthy of one like
him.
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