The Bell-Ringer of Angel's, and Other Stories

by Bret Harte

  YOUNG ROBIN GRAY.

  The good American barque Skyscraper was swinging at her moorings inthe Clyde, off Bannock, ready for sea. But that good Americanbarque--although owned in Baltimore--had not a plank of American timberin her hulk, nor a native American in her crew, and even her nautical"goodness" had been called into serious question by divers of thatcrew during her voyage, and answered more or less inconclusivelywith belaying-pins, marlin-spikes, and ropes' ends at the hands of anIrish-American captain and a Dutch and Danish mate. So much so, thatthe mysterious powers of the American consul at St. Kentigern had beenevoked to punish mutiny on the one hand, and battery and starvationon the other; both equally attested by manifestly false witness andsubornation on each side. In the exercise of his functions the consulhad opened and shut some jail doors, and otherwise effected the usualsullen and deceitful compromise, and his flag was now flying, on a finalvisit, from the stern sheets of a smart boat alongside. It was with afeeling of relief at the end of the interview that he at last lifted hishead above an atmosphere of perjury and bilge-water and came on deck.The sun and wind were ruffling and glinting on the broadening riverbeyond the "measured mile"; a few gulls were wavering and dipping nearthe lee scuppers, and the sound of Sabbath bells, mellowed by a distancethat secured immunity of conscience, came peacefully to his ear.

  "Now that job's over ye'll be takin' a partin' dhrink," suggested thecaptain.

  The consul thought not. Certain incidents of "the job" were fresh in hismemory, and he proposed to limit himself to his strict duty.

  "You have some passengers, I see," he said, pointing to a group of twomen and a young girl, who had apparently just come aboard.

  "Only wan; an engineer going out to Rio. Them's just his friends seein'him off, I'm thinkin'," returned the captain, surveying them somewhatcontemptuously.

  The consul was a little disturbed. He wondered if the passenger knewanything of the quality and reputation of the ship to which he wasentrusting his fortunes. But he was only a PASSENGER, and the consul'sfunctions--like those of the aloft-sitting cherub of nautical song--wererestricted exclusively to looking after "Poor Jack." However, he asked afew further questions, eliciting the fact that the stranger had alreadyvisited the ship with letters from the eminently respectable consigneesat St. Kentigern, and contented himself with lingering near them. Theyoung girl was accompanied by her father, a respectably rigid-lookingmiddle-class tradesman, who, however, seemed to be more interested inthe novelty of his surroundings than in the movements of his daughterand their departing friend. So it chanced that the consul re-enteredthe cabin--ostensibly in search of a missing glove, but really with theintention of seeing how the passenger was bestowed--just behind them.But to his great embarrassment he at once perceived that, owing to theobscurity of the apartment, they had not noticed him, and before hecould withdraw, the man had passed his arm around the young girl's halfstiffened, yet half yielding figure.

  "Only one, Ailsa," he pleaded in a slow, serious voice, pathetic fromthe very absence of any youthful passion in it; "just one now. It'll begey lang before we meet again. Ye'll not refuse me now."

  The young girl's lips seemed to murmur some protest that, however, waslost in the beginning of a long and silent kiss.

  The consul slipped out softly. His smile had died away. Thatunlooked-for touch of human weakness seemed to purify the stuffy andevil-reeking cabin, and the recollection of its brutal past to drop witha deck-load of iniquity behind him to the bottom of the Clyde. It isto be feared that in his unofficial moments he was inclined to besentimental, and it seemed to him that the good ship Skyscraperhenceforward carried an innocent freight not mentioned in her manifest,and that a gentle, ever-smiling figure, not entered on her books, hadinvisibly taken a place at her wheel.

  But he was recalled to himself by a slight altercation on deck. Theyoung girl and the passenger had just returned from the cabin. Theconsul, after a discreetly careless pause, had lifted his eyes to theyoung girl's face, and saw that it was singularly pretty in color andoutline, but perfectly self-composed and serenely unconscious. And hewas a little troubled to observe that the passenger was a middle-agedman, whose hard features were already considerably worn with trial andexperience.

  Both he and the girl were listening with sympathizing but cautiousinterest to her father's contention with the boatman who had broughtthem from shore, and who was now inclined to demand an extra fee forreturning with them. The boatman alleged that he had been detainedbeyond "kirk time," and that this imperiling of his salvation couldonly be compensated by another shilling. To the consul's surprise,this extraordinary argument was recognized by the father, who, however,contented himself by simply contending that it had not been stipulatedin the bargain. The issue was, therefore, limited, and the discussionprogressed slowly and deliberately, with a certain calm dignity andargumentative satisfaction on both sides that exalted the subject,though it irritated the captain.

  "If ye accept the premisses that I've just laid down, that it's acontract"---began the boatman.

  "Dry up! and haul off," said the captain.

  "One moment," interposed the consul, with a rapid glance at the slighttrouble in the young girl's face. Turning to the father, he went on:"Will you allow me to offer you and your daughter a seat in my boat?"

  It was an unlooked-for and tempting proposal. The boatman was lazilylying on his oars, secure in self-righteousness and the consciouspossession of the only available boat to shore; on the other hand, thesmart gig of the consul, with its four oars, was not only a providentialescape from a difficulty, but even to some extent a quasi-officialendorsement of his contention. Yet he hesitated.

  "It'll be costin' ye no more?" he said interrogatively, glancing at theconsul's boat crew, "or ye'll be askin' me a fair proportion."

  "It will be the gentleman's own boat," said the girl, with a certain shyassurance, "and he'll be paying his boatmen by the day."

  The consul hastened to explain that their passage would involve noadditional expense to anybody, and added, tactfully, that he was glad toenable them to oppose extortion.

  "Ay, but it's a preencipel," said the father proudly, "and I'm pleased,sir, to see ye recognize it."

  He proceeded to help his daughter into the boat without any furtherleave-taking of the passenger, to the consul's great surprise, and withonly a parting nod from the young girl. It was as if this momentousincident were a sufficient reason for the absence of any further trivialsentiment.

  Unfortunately the father chose to add an exordium for the benefit of theastonished boatsman still lying on his oars.

  "Let this be a lesson to ye, ma frien', when ye're ower sure! Ye'llne'er say a herrin' is dry until it be reestit an' reekit."

  "Ay," said the boatman, with a lazy, significant glance at the consul,"it wull be a lesson to me not to trust to a lassie's GANGIN' jo, whenthair's anither yin comin'."

  "Give way," said the consul sharply.

  Yet his was the only irritated face in the boat as the men bent overtheir oars. The young girl and her father looked placidly at thereceding ship, and waved their hands to the grave, resigned face overthe taffrail. The consul examined them more attentively. The father'sface showed intelligence and a certain probity in its otherwisecommonplace features. The young girl had more distinction, with,perhaps, more delicacy of outline than of texture. Her hair was dark,with a burnished copper tint at its roots, and eyes that had the sameburnished metallic lustre in their brown pupils. Both sat respectfullyerect, as if anxious to record the fact that the boat was not theirown to take their ease in; and both were silently reserved, answeringbriefly to the consul's remarks as if to indicate the formality oftheir presence there. But a distant railway whistle startled them intoemotion.

  "We've lost the train, father!" said the young girl.

  The consul followed the direction of her anxious eyes; the train wasjust quitting the station at Bannock.

  "If ye had not lingered below with Jamie, we'd have been away in time,
ay, and in our own boat," said the father, with marked severity.

  The consul glanced quickly at the girl. But her face betrayed noconsciousness, except of their present disappointment.

  "There's an excursion boat coming round the Point," he said, pointingto the black smoke trail of a steamer at the entrance of a loch, "and itwill be returning to St. Kentigern shortly. If you like, we'll pull overand put you aboard."

  "Eh! but it's the Sabbath-breaker!" said the old man harshly.

  The consul suddenly remembered that that was the name which therighteous St. Kentigerners had given to the solitary bold, badpleasure-boat that defied their Sabbatical observances.

  "Perhaps you won't find very pleasant company on board," said the consulsmiling; "but, then, you're not seeking THAT. And as you would be onlyusing the boat to get back to your home, and not for Sunday recreation,I don't think your conscience should trouble you."

  "Ay, that's a fine argument, Mr. Consul, but I'm thinkin' it's none theless sopheestry for a' that," said the father grimly. "No; if ye'll justland us yonder at Bannock pier, we'll be ay thankin' ye the same."

  "But what will you do there? There's no other train to-day."

  "Ay, we'll walk on a bit."

  The consul was silent. After a pause the young girl lifted her cleareyes, and with a half pathetic, half childish politeness, said: "We'llbe doing very well--my father and me. You're far too kind."

  Nothing further was said as they began to thread their way between afew large ships and an ocean steamer at anchor, from whose decks a fewSunday-clothed mariners gazed down admiringly on the smart gig and thepretty girl in a Tam o' Shanter in its stern sheets. But here a newidea struck the consul. A cable's length ahead lay a yacht, owned by anAmerican friend, and at her stern a steam launch swung to its painter.Without intimating his intention to his passengers he steered for it."Bow!--way enough," he called out as the boat glided under the yacht'scounter, and, grasping the companion-ladder ropes, he leaped aboard. Ina few hurried words he explained the situation to Mr. Robert Gray, herowner, and suggested that he should send the belated passengers to St.Kentigern by the launch. Gray assented with the easy good-nature ofyouth, wealth, and indolence, and lounged from his cabin to the side.The consul followed. Looking down upon the boat he could not helpobserving that his fair young passenger, sitting in her demure stillnessat her father's side, made a very pretty picture. It was possible that"Bob Gray" had made the same observation, for he presently swung himselfover the gangway into the gig, hat in hand. The launch could easily takethem; in fact, he added unblushingly, it was even then getting up steamto go to St. Kentigern. Would they kindly come on board until it wasready? At an added word or two of explanation from the consul, thefather accepted, preserving the same formal pride and stiffness, and thetransfer was made. The consul, looking back as his gig swept round againtowards Bannock pier, received their parting salutations, and the firstsmile he had seen on the face of his grave little passenger. He thoughtit very sweet and sad.

  He did not return to the Consulate at St. Kentigern until the next day.But he was somewhat surprised to find Mr. Robert Gray awaiting him, andupon some business which the young millionaire could have easily deputedto his captain or steward. As he still lingered, the consul pleasantlyreferred to his generosity on the previous day, and hoped the passengershad given him no trouble.

  "No," said Gray with a slight simulation of carelessness. "In fact Icame up with them myself. I had nothing to do; it was Sunday, you know."

  The consul lifted his eyebrows slightly.

  "Yes, I saw them home," continued Gray lightly. "In one of thoseby-streets not far from here; neat-looking house outside; inside,corkscrew stone staircase like a lighthouse; fourth floor, no lift, butSHE circled up like a swallow! Flat--sitting-room, two bedrooms, anda kitchen--mighty snug and shipshape and pretty as a pink. They OWN ittoo--fancy OWNING part of a house! Seems to be a way they have here inSt. Kentigern." He paused and then added: "Stayed there to a kind ofhigh tea!"

  "Indeed," said the consul.

  "Why not? The old man wanted to return my 'hospitality' and square theaccount! He wasn't going to lie under any obligation to a stranger, and,by Jove! he made it a special point of honor! A Spanish grandee couldn'thave been more punctilious. And with an accent, Jerusalem! like anortheaster off the Banks! But the feed was in good taste, and he only amathematical instrument maker, on about twelve hundred dollars a year!"

  "You seem to know all about him," said the consul smilingly.

  "Not so much as he does about me," returned Gray, with a half perplexedface; "for he saw enough to admonish me about my extravagance, and evento intimate that that rascal Saunderson, my steward, was imposing on me.SHE took me to task, too, for not laying the yacht up on Sunday that themen could go 'to kirk,' and for swearing at a bargeman who ran acrossour bows. It's their perfect simplicity and sincerity in all this thatgets me! You'd have thought that the old man was my guardian, and thedaughter my aunt." After a pause he uttered a reminiscent laugh. "Shethought we ate and drank too much on the yacht, and wondered what wecould find to do all day. All this, you know, in the gentlest, caressingsort of voice, as if she was really concerned, like one's own sister.Well, not exactly like mine"--he interrupted himself grimly--"but, hangit all, you know what I mean. You know that our girls over there haven'tgot THAT trick of voice. Too much self-assertion, I reckon; things madetoo easy for them by us men. Habit of race, I dare say." He laughed alittle. "Why, I mislaid my glove when I was coming away, and it was asgood as a play to hear her commiserating and sympathizing, and huntingfor it as if it were a lost baby."

  "But you've seen Scotch girls before this," said the consul. "There wereLady Glairn's daughters, whom you took on a cruise."

  "Yes, but the swell Scotch all imitate the English, as everybody elsedoes, for the matter of that, our girls included; and they're all alike.Society makes 'em fit in together like tongued and grooved planks thatwill take any amount of holy-stoning and polish. It's like dropping intoa dead calm, with every rope and spar that you know already reflectedback from the smooth water upon you. It's mighty pretty, but it isn'tgetting on, you know." After a pause he added: "I asked them to take alittle holiday cruise with me."

  "And they declined," interrupted the consul.

  Gray glanced at him quickly.

  "Well, yes; that's all right enough. They don't know me, you see, butthey do know you; and the fact is, I was thinking that as you're ourconsul here, don't you see, and sort of responsible for me, you mightsay that it was all right, you know. Quite the customary thing with usover there. And you might say, generally, who I am."

  "I see," said the consul deliberately. "Tell them you're Bob Gray, withmore money and time than you know what to do with; that you have afine taste for yachting and shooting and racing, and amusing yourselfgenerally; that you find that THEY amuse you, and you would like yourluxury and your dollars to stand as an equivalent to their independenceand originality; that, being a good republican yourself, and recognizingno distinction of class, you don't care what this may mean to them, whoare brought up differently; that after their cruise with you you don'tcare what life, what friends, or what jealousies they return to; thatyou know no ties, no responsibilities beyond the present, and that youare not a marrying man."

  "Look here, I say, aren't you making a little too much of this?" saidGray stiffly.

  The consul laughed. "I should be glad to know that I am."

  Gray rose. "We'll be dropping down the river to-morrow," he said, witha return of his usual lightness, "and I reckon I'll be toddling down tothe wharf. Good-bye, if I don't see you again."

  He passed out. As the consul glanced from the window he observed,however, that Mr. Gray was "toddling" in quite another direction thanthe wharf. For an instant he half regretted that he had not suggested,in some discreet way, the conclusion he had arrived at after witnessingthe girl's parting with the middle-aged passenger the day before. But hereflected that this was something he
had only accidentally overseen, andwas the girl's own secret.

  II.

  When the summer had so waxed in its fullness that the smoke of factorychimneys drifted high, permitting glimpses of fairly blue sky; when thegrass in St. Kentigern's proudest park took on a less sober green in thecomfortable sun, and even in the thickest shade there was no chilliness,the good St. Kentigerners recognized that the season had arrived to go"down the river," and that it was time for them to betake themselves,with rugs, mackintoshes, and umbrellas, to the breezy lochs and mistyhillsides for which the neighborhood of St. Kentigern is justly famous.So when it came to pass that the blinds were down in the highest places,and the most exclusive pavements of St. Kentigern were echoless anddesolate, the consul heroically tore himself from the weak delight ofbasking in the sunshine, and followed the others.

  He soon found himself settled at the furthest end of a long narrow loch,made longer and narrower by the steep hillside of rock and heather whichflanked its chilly surface on either side, and whose inequalities werelost in the firs and larches that filled ravine and chasm. The fragrantroad which ran sinuously through their shadowy depths was invisible fromthe loch; no protuberance broke the seemingly sheer declivity; the evensky-line was indented in two places--one where it was cracked into afanciful resemblance to a human profile, the other where it was curvedlike a bowl. Need it be said that one was distinctly recognized asthe silhouette of a prehistoric giant, and that the other was hisdrinking-cup; need it be added that neither lent the slightest humansuggestion to the solitude? A toy-like pier extending into the loch,midway from the barren shore, only heightened the desolation. And whenthe little steamboat that occasionally entered the loch took away asolitary passenger from the pier-head, the simplest parting was investedwith a dreary loneliness that might have brought tears to the mosthardened eye.

  Still, when the shadow of either hillside was not reaching across theloch, the meridian sun, chancing upon this coy mirror, made the most ofit. Then it was that, seen from above, it flashed like a falchion lyingbetween the hills; then its reflected glory, striking up, transfiguredthe two acclivities, tipped the cold heather with fire, gladdened thefunereal pines, and warmed the ascetic rocks. And it was in one of thoserare, passionate intervals that the consul, riding along the woodedtrack and turning his eyes from their splendors, came upon a littlehouse.

  It had once been a sturdy cottage, with a grim endurance andinflexibility which even some later and lighter additions had softenedrather than changed. On either side of the door, against the bleakwhitewashed wall, two tall fuchsias relieved the rigid blankness with ashow of color. The windows were prettily draped with curtains caught upwith gay ribbons. In a stony pound-like enclosure there was some attemptat floral cultivation, but all quite recent. So, too, were a wickergarden seat, a bright Japanese umbrella, and a tropical hammocksuspended between two arctic-looking bushes, which the rude and rigidforefathers of the hamlet would have probably resented.

  He had just passed the house when a charming figure slipped across theroad before him. To his surprise it was the young girl he had met a fewmonths before on the Skyscraper. But the Tam o' Shanter was replaced bya little straw hat; and a light dress, summery in color and texture,but more in keeping with her rustic surroundings, seemed as grateful andrare as the sunshine. Without knowing why, he had an impression thatit was of her own making--a gentle plagiarism of the style of her morefortunate sisters, but with a demure restraint all her own. As sherecognized him a faint color came to her cheek, partly from surprise,partly from some association. To his delighted greeting she responded byinforming him that her father had taken the cottage he had just passed,where they were spending a three weeks' vacation from his business. Itwas not so far from St. Kentigern but that he could run up for a day tolook after the shop. Did the consul not think it was wise?

  Quite ready to assent to any sagacity in those clear brown eyes, theconsul thought it was. But was it not, like wisdom, sometimes lonely?

  Ah! no. There was the loch and the hills and the heather; there were herflowers; did he not think they were growing well? and at the head of theloch there was the old tomb of the McHulishes, and some of the coffinswere still to be seen.

  Perhaps emboldened by the consul's smile, she added, with a more seriousprecision which was, however, lost in the sympathizing caress of hervoice, "And would you not be getting off and coming in and resting a weebit before you go further? It would be so good of you, and father wouldthink it so kind. And he will be there now, if you're looking."

  The consul looked. The old man was standing in the doorway of thecottage, as respectably uncompromising as ever, with the slightconcession to his rural surroundings of wearing a Tam o' Shanter andeasy slippers. The consul dismounted and entered. The interior wassimply, but tastefully furnished. It struck him that the Scotch prudenceand economy, which practically excluded display and meretriciousglitter, had reached the simplicity of the truest art and the mostrefined wealth. He felt he could understand Gray's enthusiasm, and by anodd association of ideas he found himself thinking of the resigned faceof the lonely passenger on the Skyscraper.

  "Have you heard any news of your friend who went to Rio?" he askedpleasantly, but without addressing himself particularly to either.

  There was a perceptible pause; doubtless of deference to her fatheron the part of the young girl, and of the usual native conscientiouscaution on the part of the father, but neither betrayed anyembarrassment or emotion. "No; he would not be writing yet," she atlength said simply, "he would be waiting until he was settled to hisbusiness. Jamie would be waiting until he could say how he was doing,father?" she appealed interrogatively to the old man.

  "Ay, James Gow would not fash himself to write compliments and gossiptill he knew his position and work," corroborated the old man. "He'llnot be going two thousand miles to send us what we can read in the'St. Kentigern Herald.' But," he added, suddenly, with a recall ofcautiousness, "perhaps YOU will be hearing of the ship?"

  "The consul will not be remembering what he hears of all the ships,"interposed the young girl, with the same gentle affectation of superiorworldly knowledge which had before amused him. "We'll be wearying him,father," and the subject dropped.

  The consul, glancing around the room again, but always returning to thesweet and patient seriousness of the young girl's face and the gravedecorum of her father, would have liked to ask another question, but itwas presently anticipated; for when he had exhausted the current topics,in which both father and daughter displayed a quiet sagacity, and he hadgathered a sufficient knowledge of their character to seem to justifyGray's enthusiasm, and was rising to take his leave, the young girl saidtimidly:--

  "Would ye not let Bessie take your horse to the grass field over yonder,and yourself stay with us to dinner? It would be most kind, and youwould meet a great friend of yours who will be here."

  "Mr. Gray?" suggested the consul audaciously. Yet he was greatlysurprised when the young girl said quietly, "Ay."

  "He'll be coming in the loch with his yacht," said the old man. "It'snot so expensive lying here as at Bannock, I'm thinking; and the mencannot gang ashore for drink. Eh, but it's an awful waste o' pounds,shillings, and pence, keeping these gowks in idleness with no feeshin'nor carrying of passengers."

  "Ay, but it's better Mr. Gray should pay them for being decent andwell-behaved on board his ship, than that they should be out of workand rioting in taverns and lodging-houses. And you yourself, father,remember the herrin' fishers that come ashore at Ardie, and the deckhands of the excursion boat, and the language they'll be using."

  "Have you had a cruise in the yacht?" asked the consul quickly.

  "Ay," said the father, "we have been up and down the loch, and aroundthe far point, but not for boardin' or lodgin' the night, nor otherwiseconteenuing or parteecipating. I have explained to Mr. Gray that wemust return to our own home and our own porridge at evening, and he hasagreed, and even come with us. He's a decent enough lad, and not aboveinst
ructin', but extraordinar' extravagant."

  "Ye know, father," interposed the young girl, "he talks of fitting upthe yacht for the fishing, and taking some of his most decent men onshares. He says he was very fond of fishing off the Massachusetts coast,in America. It will be, I'm thinking," she said, suddenly turning to theconsul with an almost pathetic appeal in her voice, "a great occupationfor the rich young men over there."

  The consul, desperately struggling with a fanciful picture of Mr. RobertGray as a herring fisher, thought gravely that it "might be." But hethought still more gravely, though silently, of this singular companionship, and was somewhat anxious to confront his friend with his newacquaintances. He had not long to wait. The sun was just dipping behindthe hill when the yacht glided into the lonely loch. A boat was put off,and in a few moments Robert Gray was climbing the little path from theloch.

  Had the consul expected any embarrassment or lover-like consciousnesson the face of Mr. Gray at their unexpected meeting, he would have beendisappointed. Nor was the young man's greeting of father and daughter,whom he addressed as Mr. and Miss Callender, marked by any tenderness orhesitation. On the contrary, a certain seriousness and quiet reticence,unlike Gray, which might have been borrowed from his new friends,characterized his speech and demeanor. Beyond this freemasonry of sadrepression there was no significance of look or word passed betweenthese two young people. The girl's voice retained its even pathos.Gray's grave politeness was equally divided between her and her father.He corroborated what Callender had said of his previous visits withoutaffectation or demonstration; he spoke of the possibilities of hisfitting up the yacht for the fishing season with a practical detail andeconomy that left the consul's raillery ineffective. Even when, afterdinner, the consul purposely walked out in the garden with the father,Gray and Ailsa presently followed them without lingering or undueprecipitation, and with no change of voice or manner. The consul wasperplexed. Had the girl already told Gray of her lover across the sea,and was this singular restraint their joint acceptance of their fate;or was he mistaken in supposing that their relations were anything morethan the simple friendship of patron and protegee? Gray was rich enoughto indulge in such a fancy, and the father and daughter were too proudto ever allow it to influence their own independence. In any event theconsul's right to divulge the secret he was accidentally possessedof seemed more questionable than ever. Nor did there appear to be anyopportunity for a confidential talk with Gray, since it was proposedthat the whole party should return to the yacht for supper, afterwhich the consul should be dropped at the pier-head, distant only a fewminutes from his hotel, and his horse sent to him the next day.

  A faint moon was shimmering along the surface of Loch Dour in icy littleripples when they pulled out from the shadows of the hillside. By theaccident of position, Gray, who was steering, sat beside Ailsa in thestern, while the consul and Mr. Callender were further forward, althoughwithin hearing. The faces of the young people were turned towards eachother, yet in the cold moonlight the consul fancied they looked asimpassive and unemotional as statues. The few distant, far-spaced lightsthat trembled on the fading shore, the lonely glitter of the water,the blackness of the pine-clad ravines seemed to be a part of thisrepression, until the vast melancholy of the lake appeared to meet andoverflow them like an advancing tide. Added to this, there came fromtime to time the faint sound and smell of the distant, desolate sea.

  The consul, struggling manfully to keep up a spasmodic discussion onScotch diminutives in names, found himself mechanically saying:

  "And James you call Jamie?"

  "Ay; but ye would say, to be pure Scotch, 'Hamish,'" said Mr. Callenderprecisely. The girl, however, had not spoken; but Gray turned to herwith something of his old gayety.

  "And I suppose you would call me 'Robbie'?"

  "Ah, no!"

  "What then?"

  "Robin."

  Her voice was low yet distinct, but she had thrown into the twosyllables such infinite tenderness, that the consul was for an instantstruck with an embarrassment akin to that he had felt in the cabin ofthe Skyscraper, and half expected the father to utter a shocked protest.And to save what he thought would be an appalling silence, he said witha quiet laugh:--

  "That's the fellow who 'made the assembly shine' in the song, isn't it?"

  "That was Robin Adair," said Gray quietly; "unfortunately I would onlybe 'Robin Gray,' and that's quite another song."

  "AULD Robin Gray, sir, deestinctly 'auld' in the song," interrupted Mr.Callender with stern precision; "and I'm thinking he was not so veryunfortunate either."

  The discussion of Scotch diminutives halting here, the boat sped onsilently to the yacht. But although Robert Gray, as host, recovered someof his usual lightheartedness, the consul failed to discover anythingin his manner to indicate the lover, nor did Miss Ailsa after her singlelapse of tender accent exhibit the least consciousness. It was true thattheir occasional frank allusions to previous conversations seemed toshow that their opportunities had not been restricted, but nothing more.He began again to think he was mistaken.

  As he wished to return early, and yet not hasten the Callenders, heprevailed upon Gray to send him to the pier-head first, and not disturbthe party. As he stepped into the boat, something in the appearanceof the coxswain awoke an old association in his mind. The man at firstseemed to avoid his scrutiny, but when they were well away from theyacht, he said hesitatingly:--

  "I see you remember me, sir. But if it's all the same to you, I've got agood berth here and would like to keep it."

  The consul had a flash of memory. It was the boatswain of theSkyscraper, one of the least objectionable of the crew. "But what areyou doing here? you shipped for the voyage," he said sharply.

  "Yes, but I got away at Key West, when I knew what was coming. I wasn'ton her when she was abandoned."

  "Abandoned!" repeated the consul. "What the d---l! Do you mean to say shewas wrecked?"

  "Well, yes--you know what I mean, sir. It was an understood thing. Shewas over-insured and scuttled in the Bahamas. It was a put-up job, and Ireckoned I was well out of it."

  "But there was a passenger! What of him?" demanded the consul anxiously.

  "Dnnno! But I reckon he got away. There wasn't any of the crew lost thatI know of. Let's see, he was an engineer, wasn't he? I reckon he had totake a hand at the pumps, and his chances with the rest."

  "Does Mr. Gray know of this?" asked the consul after a pause.

  The man stared.

  "Not from me, sir. You see it was nothin' to him, and I didn't caretalking much about the Skyscraper. It was hushed up in the papers. Youwon't go back on me, sir?"

  "You don't know what became of the passenger?"

  "No! But he was a Scotchman, and they're bound to fall on their feetsomehow!"

  III.

  The December fog that overhung St. Kentigern had thinned sufficiently topermit the passage of a few large snowflakes, soiled in their descent,until in color and consistency they spotted the steps of the Consulateand the umbrellas of the passers-by like sprinklings of gray mortar.Nevertheless the consul thought the streets preferable to the persistentgloom of his office, and sallied out. Youthful mercantile St. Kentigernstrode sturdily past him in the lightest covert coats; collegiate St.Kentigern fluttered by in the scantiest of red gowns, shaming the fursthat defended his more exotic blood; and the bare red feet of a fewfactory girls, albeit their heads and shoulders were draped and hoodedin thick shawls, filled him with a keen sense of his effeminacy.Everything of earth, air, and sky, and even the faces of those he lookedupon, seemed to be set in the hard, patient endurance of the race.Everywhere on that dismal day, he fancied he could see this energywithout restlessness, this earnestness without geniality, all grimly setagainst the hard environment of circumstance and weather.

  The consul turned into one of the main arteries of St. Kentigern, a widestreet that, however, began and ended inconsequently, and with half adozen social phases in as many blocks. Here the snow cease
d, the fogthickened suddenly with the waning day, and the consul found himselfisolated and cut off on a block which he did not remember, with theclatter of an invisible tramway in his ears. It was a block of smallhouses with smaller shop-fronts. The one immediately before him seemedto be an optician's, but the dimly lighted windows also displayed thepathetic reinforcement of a few watches, cheap jewelry on cards, andseveral cairngorm brooches and pins set in silver. It occurred to himthat he wanted a new watch crystal, and that he would procure it hereand inquire his way. Opening the door he perceived that there was no onein the shop, but from behind the counter another open door discloseda neat sitting-room, so close to the street that it gave the casualcustomer the sensation of having intruded upon domestic privacy. Theconsul's entrance tinkled a small bell which brought a figure to thedoor. It was Ailsa Callender.

  The consul was startled. He had not seen her since he had brought totheir cottage the news of the shipwreck with a precaution and delicacythat their calm self-control and patient resignation, however, seemed tomake almost an impertinence. But this was no longer the handsome shop inthe chief thoroughfare with its two shopmen, which he previously knew as"Callender's." And Ailsa here! What misfortune had befallen them?

  Whatever it was, there was no shadow of it in her clear eyes and frankyet timid recognition of him. Falling in with her stoical and reticentacceptance of it, he nevertheless gathered that the Callenders had lostmoney in some invention which James Gow had taken with him to Rio, butwhich was sunk in the ship. With this revelation of a business interestin what he had believed was only a sentimental relation, the consulventured to continue his inquiries. Mr. Gow had escaped with his lifeand had reached Honduras, where he expected to try his fortunes anew.It might be a year or two longer before there were any results. Did theconsul know anything of Honduras? There was coffee there--so she and herfather understood. All this with little hopefulness, no irritation,but a divine patience in her eyes. The consul, who found that his watchrequired extensive repairing, and had suddenly developed an inordinatepassion for cairngorms, watched her as she opened the show-case with noaffectation of unfamiliarity with her occupation, but with all her oldserious concern. Surely she would have made as thorough a shop-girl asshe would--His half-formulated thought took the shape of a question.

  "Have you seen Mr. Gray since his return from the Mediterranean?"

  Ah! one of the brooches had slipped from her fingers to the bottom ofthe case. There was an interval or two of pathetic murmuring, with herfair head under the glass, before she could find it; then she liftedher eyes to the consul. They were still slightly suffused with hersympathetic concern. The stone, which was set in a thistle--the nationalemblem--did he not know it?--had dropped out. But she could put it in.It was pretty and not expensive. It was marked twelve shillings on thecard, but he could have it for ten shillings. No, she had not seen Mr.Gray since they had lost their fortune. (It struck the consul as nonethe less pathetic that she seemed really to believe in their formeropulence.) They could not be seeing him there in a small shop, and theycould not see him elsewhere. It was far better as it was. Yet shepaused a moment when she had wrapped up the brooch. "You'd be seeing himyourself some time?" she added gently.

  "Perhaps."

  "Then you'll not mind saying how my father and myself are sometimesthinking of his goodness and kindness," she went on, in a voice whosetenderness seemed to increase with the formal precision of her speech.

  "Certainly."

  "And you'll say we're not forgetting him."

  "I promise."

  As she handed him the parcel her lips softly parted in what might havebeen equally a smile or a sigh.

  He was able to keep his promise sooner than he had imagined. It was onlya few weeks later that, arriving in London, he found Gray's hatbox andbag in the vestibule of his club, and that gentleman himself in thesmoking-room. He looked tanned and older.

  "I only came from Southampton an hour ago, where I left the yacht. And,"shaking the consul's hand cordially, "how's everything and everybody upat old St. Kentigern?"

  The consul thought fit to include his news of the Callenders inreference to that query, and with his eyes fixed on Gray dwelt at somelength on their change of fortune. Gray took his cigar from his mouth,but did not lift his eyes from the fire. Presently he said, "I supposethat's why Callender declined to take the shares I offered him in thefishing scheme. You know I meant it, and would have done it."

  "Perhaps he had other reasons."

  "What do you mean?" said Gray, facing the consul suddenly.

  "Look here, Gray," said the consul, "did Miss Callender or her fatherever tell you she was engaged?"

  "Yes; but what's that to do with it?"

  "A good deal. Engagements, you know, are sometimes forced, unsuitable,or unequal, and are broken by circumstances. Callender is proud."

  Gray turned upon the consul the same look of gravity that he had wornon the yacht--the same look that the consul even fancied he had seenin Ailsa's eyes. "That's exactly where you're mistaken in her," he saidslowly. "A girl like that gives her word and keeps it. She waits, hopes,accepts what may come--breaks her heart, if you will, but not her word.Come, let's talk of something else. How did he--that man Gow--loseCallender's money?"

  The consul did not see the Callenders again on his return, and perhapsdid not think it necessary to report the meeting. But one morning hewas delighted to find an official document from New York upon his desk,asking him to communicate with David Callender of St. Kentigern, and,on proof of his identity, giving him authority to draw the sum of fivethousand dollars damages awarded for the loss of certain property onthe Skyscraper, at the request of James Gow. Yet it was with mixedsensations that the consul sought the little shop of the optician withthis convincing proof of Gow's faithfulness and the indissolubility ofAilsa's engagement. That there was some sad understanding between thegirl and Gray he did not doubt, and perhaps it was not strange that hefelt a slight partisanship for his friend, whose nature had so strangelychanged. Miss Ailsa was not there. Her father explained that her healthhad required a change, and she was visiting some friends on the river.

  "I'm thinkin' that the atmosphere is not so pure here. It is deficientin ozone. I noticed it myself in the early morning. No! it was not theconfinement of the shop, for she never cared to go out."

  He received the announcement of his good fortune with unshaken calm andgreat practical consideration of detail. He would guarantee his identityto the consul. As for James Gow, it was no more than fair; and what hehad expected of him. As to its being an equivalent of his loss, he couldnot tell until the facts were before him.

  "Miss Ailsa," suggested the consul venturously, "will be pleased to hearagain from her old friend, and know that he is succeeding."

  "I'm not so sure that ye could call it 'succeeding,'" returned the oldman, carefully wiping the glasses of a pair of spectacles that he heldcritically to the light, "when ye consider that, saying nothing of thewaste of valuable time, it only puts James Gow back where he was when hewent away."

  "But any man who has had the pleasure of knowing Mr. and Miss Callenderwould be glad to be on that footing," said the consul, with politesignificance.

  "I'm not agreeing with you there," said Mr. Callender quietly; "and I'mobserving in ye of late a tendency to combine business wi'compleement. But it was kind of ye to call; and I'll be sending ye theauthorization."

  Which he did. But the consul, passing through the locality a few weekslater, was somewhat concerned to find the shop closed, with otherson the same block, behind a hoarding that indicated rebuilding andimprovement. Further inquiry elicited the fact that the small leaseshad been bought up by some capitalist, and that Mr. Callender, with theothers, had benefited thereby. But there was no trace nor clew to hispresent locality. He and his daughter seemed to have again vanished withthis second change in their fortunes.

  It was a late March morning when the streets were dumb with snow, andthe air was filled with flying g
ranulations that tinkled against thewindows of the Consulate like fairy sleigh-bells, when there was thestamping of snow-clogged feet in the outer hall, and the door was openedto Mr. and Miss Callender. For an instant the consul was startled. Theold man appeared as usual--erect, and as frigidly respectable as oneof the icicles that fringed the window, but Miss Ailsa was, to hisastonishment, brilliant with a new-found color, and sparkling withhealth and only half-repressed animation. The snow-flakes, scarcelymelting on the brown head of this true daughter of the North, stillcrowned her hood; and, as she threw back her brown cloak and disclosed aplump little scarlet jacket and brown skirt, the consul could not resisther suggested likeness to some bright-eyed robin redbreast, to whom theinclement weather had given a charming audacity. And shy and demure asshe still was, it was evident that some change had been wrought in herother than that evoked by the stimulus of her native sky and air.

  To his eager questioning, the old man replied briefly that he had boughtthe old cottage at Loch Dour, where they were living, and where hehad erected a small manufactory and laboratory for the making of hisinventions, which had become profitable. The consul reiterated hisdelight at meeting them again.

  "I'm not so sure of that, sir, when you know the business on which Icome," said Mr. Callender, dropping rigidly into a chair, and claspinghis hands over the crutch of a shepherd-like staff. "Ye mind, perhaps,that ye conveyed to me, osteensibly at the request of James Gow,a certain sum of money, for which I gave ye a good and sufficientguarantee. I thought at the time that it was a most feckless andunbusiness-like proceeding on the part of James, as it was withoutcorroboration or advice by letter; but I took the money."

  "Do you mean to say that he made no allusion to it in his otherletters?" interrupted the consul, glancing at Ailsa.

  "There were no other letters at the time," said Callender dryly. "Butabout a month afterwards we DID receive a letter from him enclosing adraft and a full return of the profits of the invention, which HE HADSOLD IN HONDURAS. Ye'll observe the deescrepancy! I then wrote to thebank on which I had drawn as you authorized me, and I found that theyknew nothing of any damages awarded, but that the sum I had drawn hadbeen placed to my credit by Mr. Robert Gray."

  In a flash the consul recalled the one or two questions that Gray hadasked him, and saw it all. For an instant he felt the whole bitternessof Gray's misplaced generosity--its exposure and defeat. He glancedagain hopelessly at Ailsa. In the eye of that fresh, glowing, yetdemure, young goddess, unhallowed as the thought might be, there wascertainly a distinctly tremulous wink.

  The consul took heart. "I believe I need not say, Mr. Callender," hebegan with some stiffness, "that this is as great a surprise to me asto you. I had no reason to believe the transaction other than bonafide, and acted accordingly. If my friend, deeply sympathizing with yourprevious misfortune, has hit upon a delicate, but unbusiness-like way ofassisting you temporarily--I say TEMPORARILY, because it must havebeen as patent to him as to you, that you would eventually find out hisgenerous deceit--you surely can forgive him for the sake of his kindintention. Nay, more; may I point out to you that you have no right toassume that this benefaction was intended exclusively for you; if Mr.Gray, in his broader sympathy with you and your daughter, has in thisway chosen to assist and strengthen the position of a gentleman soclosely connected with you, but still struggling with hard fortune"--

  "I'd have ye know, sir," interrupted the old man, rising to his feet,"that ma frien' Mr. James Gow is as independent of yours as he is ofme and mine. He has married, sir, a Mrs. Hernandez, the rich widow ofa coffee-planter, and now is the owner of the whole estate, minus theencumbrance of three children. And now, sir, you'll take this,"--he drewfrom his pocket an envelope. "It's a draft for five thousand dollars,with the ruling rate of interest computed from the day I received ittill this day, and ye'll give it to your frien' when ye see him. Andye'll just say to him from me"--

  But Miss Ailsa, with a spirit and independence that challenged herfather's, here suddenly fluttered between them with sparkling eyes andoutstretched hands.

  "And ye'll say to him from ME that a more honorable, noble, and generousman, and a kinder, truer, and better friend than he, cannot be foundanywhere! And that the foolishest and most extravagant thing he ever didis better than the wisest and most prudent thing that anybody else everdid, could, or would do! And if he was a bit overproud--it was onlybecause those about him were overproud and foolish. And you'll tell himthat we're wearying for him! And when you give him that daft letter fromfather you'll give him this bit line from me," she went on rapidly asshe laid a tiny note in his hand. "And," with wicked dancing eyes thatseemed to snap the last bond of repression, "ye'll give him THAT too,and say I sent it!"

  There was a stir in the official apartment! The portraits of Lincoln andWashington rattled uneasily in their frames; but it was no doubt only adiscreet blast of the north wind that drowned the echo of a kiss.

  "Ailsa!" gasped the shocked Mr. Callender.

  "Ah! but, father, if it had not been for HIM we would not have knownRobin."

  *****

  It was the last that the consul saw of Ailsa Callender; for the nextsummer when he called at Loch Dour she was Mrs. Gray.