CHAPTER VIII
From the platform down to the pier was only some fifty yards, and beforethem the travellers perceived an exceedingly smart steam-launch, anda stout middle-aged gentleman, in a blue serge suit and yachting cap,advancing from it to greet them. They had only time to observe thathe had a sanguine complexion, iron-gray whiskers, and a wide-open eye,before he raised the cap and, in a decidedly North British accent, thusaddressed them--
"My lord--ahem!--your lordship, I should say--I presume I've thepleasure of seeing Lord Tulliwuddle?"
The Count gently pushed his more distinguished friend in front. Withan embarrassment equal to their host's, his lordship bowed and gave hishand.
"I am ze Tollyvoddle--vary pleased--Mistair Gosh, I soppose?"
"Gallosh, my lord. Very honored to welcome you."
In the round eyes of Mr. Gallosh, Count Bunker perceived an unmistakablestare of astonishment at the sound of his lordship's accented voice.The Baron, on his part, was evidently still suffering from his attack ofstage fright; but again the Count's gifts smoothed the creases from thesituation.
"You have not introduced me to our host, Tulliwuddle," he said, with agay, infectious confidence.
"Ah, so! Zis is my friend Count Bunker--gom all ze vay from Austria,"responded the Baron, with no glimmer of his customary aplomb.
Making a mental resolution to warn his ally never to say one word moreabout his fictitious past than was wrung by cross-examination, thedistinguished-looking Austrian shook his host's hand warmly.
"From Austria via London," he explained in his pleasantest manner. "Iobject altogether to be considered a foreigner, Mr. Gallosh; and, infact, I often tell Tulliwuddle that people will think me more Englishthan himself. The German fashions so much in vogue at Court aretransforming the very speech of your nobility. Don't you sometimesnotice it?"
Thus directly appealed to, Mr. Gallosh became manifestly perplexed.
"Yes--yes, you're right in a way," he pronounced cautiously. "I supposethey do that. But will ye not take a seat? This is my launch. Hi!Robert, give his lordship a hand on board!"
Two mariners and a second tall footman assisted the guests to embark,and presently they were cutting the waters of the loch at a merry pace.
In the prow, like youth, the Baron insisted upon sitting with foldedarms and a gloomy aspect; and as his nerve was so patently disturbed,the Count decidedly approved of an arrangement which left his host andhimself alone together in the stern. In his present state of mind theBaron was capable of any indiscretion were he compelled to talk; while,silent and brooding in isolated majesty, he looked to perfection thepart of returning exile. So, evidently, thought Mr. Gallosh.
"His lordship is looking verra well," he confided to the Count in arespectfully lowered voice.
"The improvement has been remarkable ever since his foot touched hisnative heath."
"You don't say so," said Mr. Gallosh, with even greater interest. "Washe delicate before?"
"A London life, Mr. Gallosh."
"True--true, he'll have been busy seeing his friends; it'll have beenverra wearing."
"The anxiety, the business of being invested, and so on, has upset hima trifle. You must put down any little--well, peculiarity to that, Mr.Gallosh."
"I understand--aye, umh'm, quite so. He'll like to be left to himself,perhaps?"
"That depends on his condition," said the Count diplomatically.
"It's a great responsibility for a young man; yon's a big property tolook after," observed Mr. Gallosh in a moment.
"You have touched the spot!" said the Count warmly. "That is, infact, the chief cause of Tulliwuddle's curious moodiness ever sincehe succeeded to the title. He feels his responsibilities a little tooacutely."
Again Mr. Gallosh ruminated, while his guest from the corner of his eyesurveyed him shrewdly.
"My forecast was wonderfully accurate," he said to himself.
The silence was first broken by Mr. Gallosh. As if thinking aloud, heremarked--
"I was awful surprised to hear him speak! It's the Court fashion, yousay?"
"Partly that; partly a prolonged residence on the Continent in hisyouth. He acquired his accent then; he has retained it for fashion'ssake," explained the Count, who thought it as well to bolster up theweakest part of his case a little more securely.
With this prudent purpose, he added, with a flattering air of taking hishost into his aristocratic confidence--
"You will perhaps be good enough to explain this to the friends anddependants Lord Tulliwuddle is about to meet? A breath of unsympatheticcriticism would grieve him greatly if it came to his ears."
"Quite, quite," said Mr. Gallosh eagerly. "I'll make it all right. Iunderstand the sentiment pairfectly. It's verra natural--verra naturalindeed."
At that moment the Baron started from his reverie with an affrightedair.
"Vat is zat strange sound!" he exclaimed.
The others listened.
"That's just the pipes, my lord," said Mr. Gallosh. "They're tuning upto welcome you."
His lordship stared at the shore ahead of them.
"Zere are many peoples on ze coast!" he cried. "Vat makes it for?"
"They've come to receive you," his host explained. "It's just a littlespontaneous demonstration, my lord."
His lordship's composure in no way increased.
"It was Mrs. Gallosh organized a wee bit entertainment on his lordship'slanding," their host explained confidentially to the Count. "It's justinformal, ye understand. She's been instructing some of the tenants--andma own girls will be there--but, oh, it's nothing to speak of. If hesays a few words in reply, that'll be all they'll be expecting."
The strains of "Tulliwuddle wha hae" grew ever louder and, to anuntrained ear, more terrific. In a moment they were mingled with aclapping of hands and a Highland cheer, the launch glided alongside thepier, and, supported on his faithful friend's arm, the panic-strickenTulliwuddle staggered ashore. Before his dazed eyes there seemed to bearrayed the vastest and most barbaric concourse his worst nightmare hadever imagined. Six pipers played within ten paces of him, each of themarrayed in the full panoply of the clan; at least a dozen dogs yelpedtheir exultation; and from the surrounding throng two ancient menin tartan and four visions in snowy white stepped forth to greet thedistinguished visitors.
The first hitch in the proceedings occurred at this point. According tothe unofficial but carefully considered programme, the pipers ought tohave ceased their melody; but, whether inspired by ecstatic loyalty orbecause the Tulliwuddle pibroch took longer to perform than had beenanticipated, they continued to skirl with such vigor that expostulationspassed entirely unheard. Under the circumstances there was nothing forit but shouting, and in a stentorian yell Mr. Gallosh introduced hiswife and three fair daughters.
Thereupon Mrs. Gallosh, a broad-beamed matron whose complexioncontrasted pleasantly with her costume, delivered the followingoration--
"Lord Tulliwuddle, in the name of the women of Hechnahoul--I may say inthe name of the women of all the Highlands--oor ain Heelands, my lord"(this with the most insinuating smile)--"I bid you welcome to yourancestral estates. Remembering the conquests your ancestors used tomake both in war and in a gentler sphere" (Mrs. Gallosh looked archnessitself), "we ladies, I suppose, should regard your home-coming with somemisgivings; but, my lord, every bonny Prince Charlie has his bonny FloraMacdonald, and in this land of mountain, mist, and flood, where 'DarkBen More frowns o'er the wave,' and where 'Ilka lassie has her laddie,'you will find a thousand romantic maidens ready to welcome you as Ellenwelcomed Fitz-James! For centuries your heroic race has adorned thehalls and trod the heather of Hechnahoul, and for centuries more we hopeto see the offspring of your lordship and some winsome Celtic maid rulethese cataracts and glens!"
At this point the exertion of shouting down six bagpipes in activeeruption caused a temporary cessation of the lady's eloquence, and thepause was filled by the cheers of the crowd led by the "Hip-hip-hip!"of Co
unt Bunker, and by the broken and fortunately inaudible protests ofthe embarrassed father of future Tulliwuddles. In a moment Mrs. Galloshhad resumed--
"Lord Tulliwuddle, though I myself am only a stranger to your clan, yourHighland heart will feel reassured when I mention that I belong throughmy grandmother to the kindred clan of the Mackays!" ("Hear, hear!" fromtwo or three ladies and gentlemen, evidently guests of the Gallosh.) "Weare but visitors at Hechnahoul, yet we assure you that no more devotedhearts beat in all Caledonia! Lord Tulliwuddle, we welcome you!"
"Put your hand on your heart and bow," whispered Bunker. "Keep on bowingand say nothing!"
Mechanically the bewildered Baron obeyed, and for a few momentspresented a spectacle not unlike royalty in procession.
But as some reply from him had evidently been expected at this point,and the pipers had even ceased playing lest any word of their chief'sshould be lost, a pause ensued which might have grown embarrassing hadnot the Count promptly stepped forward.
"I think," he said, indicating two other snow-white figures who heldgigantic bouquets, "that a pleasant part of the ceremony still remainsbefore us."
With a grateful glance at this discerning guest, Mrs. Gallosh thereuponled forward her two youngest daughters (aged fifteen and thirteen), who,with an air so delightfully coy that it fell like a ray of sunshineon the poor Baron's heart, presented him with their flowery symbols ofHechnahoul's obeisance to its lord.
His consternation returned with the advance of the two ancientclansmen who, after a guttural panegyric in Gaelic, offered him furthersymbols--a claymore and target, very formidable to behold. All thesegifts having been adroitly transferred to the arms of the footmen by theubiquitous Count, the Baron's emotions swiftly passed through anotherphase when the eldest Miss Gallosh, aged twenty, with burning eyesand the most distracting tresses, dropped him a sweeping courtesy andoffered a final contribution--a fiery cross, carved and painted by herown fair hands.
A fresh round of applause followed this, and then a sudden silence fellupon the assembly. All eyes were turned upon the chieftain: not even adog barked: it was the moment of a lifetime.
"Can you manage a speech, old man?" whispered Bunker.
"Ach, no, no, no! Let me escape. Oh, let me fly!"
"Bury your face in your hands and lean on my shoulder," prompted theCount.
This stage direction being obeyed, the most effective tableauconceivable was presented, and the climax was reached when the Count,after a brief dumb-show intended to indicate how vain were LordTulliwuddle's efforts to master his emotion, spoke these words in themost thrilling accents he could muster:
"Fair ladies and brave men of Hechnahoul! Your chief, your friend,your father requests me to express to you the sentiments which hisover-wrought emotions prevent him from uttering himself. On his behalf Itender to his kind and courteous friends, Mr., Mrs., and the fair maidsGallosh, the thanks of a long-absent exile returned to his native landfor the welcome they have given him! To his devoted clan he not onlygives his thanks, but his promise that all rents shall be reduced by onehalf--so long as he dwells among them!" (Tumultuous applause, disturbedonly by a violent ejaculation from a large man in knickerbockers whomBunker justly judged to be the factor.)
"With his last breath he shall perpetually thunder:Ahasheen--comara--mohr!"
The Tulliwuddle slogan, pronounced with the most conscientious accuracyof which a Sassenach was capable, proved as effective a curtain as hehad anticipated; and amid a perfect babel of cheering and bagpiping thechieftain was led to his host's carriage.
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