Christine - Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr (the kiss of deception read online TXT) 📗

reckoning, and I'm not carin' if it be so. Nae doubt he thought the lassie wad be easier controlled than her brither, who, I was led to believe, had a vera uncertain temper. Roberta may pay a' our wrangs yet. Little women are gey often parfect Tartars."

"Mither! Mither! You wouldn't wish your ain lad to marry a Tartar o' a wife, and sae be miserable."

"Wouldn't I? A stranger winning their way wi' the Raths' siller, wouldna hae troubled me, it would hae been out o' my concern. Christine, there are two things no good woman likes to do. One is to bring a fool into the warld, and the other is to bring one o' them clever fellows, who live on other people's money, instead o' working their way up, step by step. I'm shamed o' my motherhood this day!"

"Na, na, Mither! Think of Norman, and Allan, and the lave o' the lads!"

"And forbye, I think shame o' any son o' mine being married in a foreign country, in France itsel', the French being our natural enemies."

"Not just now, Mither, not just now."

"Our natural enemies! and a kind o' people, that dinna even speak like Christians. Ye ken I hae heard their language in this vera room, Christine, and sorry I am to hae permitted the like."

"There's nae harm in it, Mither."

"It led him astray. If Ruleson's lad hadna kent the French tongue, he would hae persuaded thae Raths that America was the only place to see the warld in."

"Well, Mither, he went to the English church in France--the Protestant Episcopal Church!"

"Another great wrang to our family. The Rulesons are of the best Covenanting stock. What would John Knox say to a Ruleson being married in an Episcopal Church, at the very horns o' the altar, as it were? An unchristened Turk could do naething more unfitting."

"Mither, I hear feyther and Jamie coming up the hill. Let us hae peace this night. We will tak' counsel o' our pillows, and in the morning we'll see things in a different way, perhaps."

"Perhaps!"

And the scorn Margot threw into the seven letters of that one word, "perhaps," would have been an impossibility to any woman less ignorant, or less prejudiced in favor of her own creed and traditions. For it is in Ignorance that Faith finds its most invincible stronghold.

Ruleson came in with a newspaper in his hand. Jamie was with him, but as soon as he entered the cottage, he snuggled up to his grandmother, and told her softly, "Grandfather has had some bad news. It came in a newspaper."

Grandfather, however, said not a word concerning bad news, until he had had his tea, and smoked a pipe. Then Christine and Jamie went to Christine's room to read, and Ruleson, after tapping the bowl of his pipe on the hob until it was clean, turned to Margot, and said, "Gudewife, I hae news today o' Neil's marriage to Miss Rath."

"Ay, Christine had a letter."

"What do you think o' the circumstance?"

"I'm wondering, when it was in a foreign country, and outside his ain kirk and creed, whether it was legal and lawful?"

"Neil is lawyer enough to ken he was all right. It is not the law side o' the question I am thinking of. It is the hame side. Not a word to his ain folk, and not one o' us present at the ceremony!"

"Neither were any of the lady's family present. It was, I'm thinking, a marriage after Neil Ruleson's ain heart. Neil first, and last, and altogether."

"How's that? The young man, her brother----"

"Neil has quarreled wi' him. Neil has got the lady and her money, and he is going to begin business in his ain name, exclusive! I consider Neil something o' a scoundrel, and a mean one, at that."

"I was talking to Finlay anent the matter, and he says Neil has done weel to himsel', and he thinks him a gey clever young man."

"And I'd like to have Finlay keep his false tongue out o' my family affairs. I say Neil has done a dirty piece o' business with the Raths, and that will be seen, and heard tell o'."

"As I was saying, Margot, it is the hame side o' the affair that gave me a shock. To think of a' we hae done, of a' his brithers hae done, and of the siller he got frae his sister! To think o' it! Only to think o' it! And not ane o' us bid to his wedding. It fairly staggers me!"

"Nae wonder, gudeman! It's an unspeakable business! I'll not talk o' it! The lad I nursed on my heart, and he's fairly broken it at last. He's a sinful creature!"

"We are all o' us sinfu' creatures, Margot!"

"We are not. You are much mista'en, James. There's plenty o' good men and women on every side o' us. Neither you, nor mysel', would do as Neil has done."

"Perhaps not--but we baith hae our ain way o' sinning, Margot, you ken that."

"Speak for yoursel', gudeman!"

"Finlay said----"

"Kay! Kay! I'll no be fashed wi' Finlay's foolishness. I'm awa' to my sleep. My lad, my dear lad, you are heart-weary. I'm sorry for you."

"Wait a moment, Margot. Finlay says he has nae doubt Neil has married ten thousand pounds a year. Think o' that!"

"I'll think of nae such foolishness. And if it was twenty thousand, the lad would need it all--we hae brought him up sae badly!"

Margot disappeared with the words, and the unhappy father as he covered the fire, and pottered about the house, said sorrowfully:

"She's right! She's always right. If her words are in the way o' reproach, it's my fault! James Ruleson's fault! I ought to hae stood out against the Maraschal. If we had made him a minister, he would hae been obligated to set an example to a kirkful o' men and women, and folks will sin against their ain house, when they will do their duty to a kirkful."


CHAPTER IX


A HAPPY BIT OF WRITING

The dead sailor,
Has peace that none may gain who live;
And rest about him, that no love can give,
And over him, while life and death shall be,
The light and sound, and darkness of the sea!

The winter following Neil's marriage was a pleasant one to the village of Culraine. The weather was favorable, the line fishing more than usually prosperous, and the school remarkably successful. Ruleson took the greatest delight in its progress, and nothing gave him greater pleasure than a walk in its vicinity, when he could see the children coming and going, with their books and balls in their hands. They all knew him, but however large the group in the playground, he could pick little Jamie out of it in a moment. And oh, how good it was to see the old man defying his failure with Neil, and building still grander hopes on this lad of ten years old! Truly, from the good heart Hope springs eternal. It forgets that it is mortal, because it takes hold on immortality.

Christine heard constantly from Cluny, but it was nearly a year since she had seen him, for the crew of a passenger steamer trading to foreign ports, do not obtain leave easily, especially in their first year. And Cluny had never been in Glasgow port long enough to make a journey to Culraine and back possible. Christine did not fret herself because of his absence. She was not as one of the foolish ones, who regard a lover and love-making as the great essential of life. She had proved in her own case, that Duty was far above, and beyond Love. She had known cases where Honor had been put before Love. She had seen Angus Ballister put mere social caste before Love. It was a fact known to all the world, that gold laughed at Love, and bought and sold Love, as if he were merchandise in the market place.

She loved Cluny, but her love was subject to her duty, which at present was evidently in her own home. Her father was strong and full of the joy of living, but his work was on the winter seas, and he needed the comfort of a well-ordered house and properly-cooked food after his hard day's fishing. Her mother was sick and failing, and it appeared to Christine's anxious heart that she was losing, instead of gaining, ground. Margot denied this position, but Christine noticed that one little household duty after another was allowed to drift quietly into her hands. Then also there was Jamie, whom she tenderly loved, and who was wholly dependent on her care and help. His food--his clothes--his lessons! What could Jamie do without her?

One morning in February, she had a letter from Cluny, which set at naught all these claims. He had two hundred pounds in the Bank of Scotland, and he wanted to get married. He was studying navigation, and he would be third officer in another year. He was fairly wasting his life without Christine. He was growing old with the disappointment he was getting constantly. He was next door to dying, with one put-off after another. If he came up on the fifteenth, would she walk over to the Domine's with him? He felt as if the Domine might bury him, if he didna marry him. He declared he had been sick with the love and pain of wanting her, ever since he could remember himself, "and yet, Christine," he wrote, "you are mine. Mine from your birth hour. Mine whether you love me, or don't love me. Mine if you marry someone else. Mine even if you die, for then I would soon follow, and find you out, wherever you were."

What was a girl of cool, reasonable nature, to do with a lover of this impetuous, vehement temper?

She told her mother that Cluny was coming, and she noticed that the news instantly changed the atmosphere of the room. Margot had been sewing and chatting cheerfully in her chair by the fireside. She dropped her work, and became thoughtful and silent. Christine knew why, and she said to herself, "Mither is fearing I am going to marry Cluny, and leave her alane! As if I would! The man never lived, who could make me do the like o' that." She waited ten minutes to give Margot time to recover herself, but as she did not do so, she asked, "Mither, are you doubting Christine?"

"No, dearie! I couldna do that."

"What then?"

"I'm doubting mysel'. Doubting my power to look to your feyther's comfort, and the like o' that, and maybe fearing a strange woman in the house."

"Why a strange woman?"

"There's things I canna do now--things I havna the strength for, and----"

"You think that Christine would leave you?"

"Weel, there is the peradventure."

"Mither, put your arm round me. To the end of your life, Christine will put hers round you. Naebody can part us twa. Naebody!"

"I thought Cluny was coming--and--that----"

"I would leave you. Leave you now! Leave you, and leave feyther without anyone to cook his meals, and leave wee Jamie, who looks to me as if I was his Mither. Na, na! You mustna