The Black Colonel

by James Milne

  _X.--The Way of a Woman_

  Between you and me, I fancy that the average, natural woman likes tothink any man who is after her a bit of the devil. It makes her pulsebeat, if not her heart; it gives a fine spice to the pursuit, and sheis confident there will be no capture, unless she wills it. Anyhow, Iwas not going to help the Black Colonel in his schemes by holding himup as a hero of that order, and he would have made the comment that heneeded not the service from me.

  Marget Forbes and I had fallen into the pleasant custom of lending eachother such books as came the way of our remote land, and I called atthe Dower House to leave her one, a newly imprinted volume entitled"Robinson Crusoe." I did not seem to wish to make meetings with her,though I was glad of them, so I chose a time, the mid-afternoon, atwhich she and her mother usually walked out. However, Marget was athome, and she called to me from the parlour, would I not enter and resta minute? Necessarily I must step inside to say I would not wait, andnecessarily I found myself sitting down near her.

  "Mother," she said, "is on her weekly round among the sick and old, towhom a kind word from her is like gold, of which we now have none togive. Usually I go with her, but to-day she would have it that Ilooked tired, and she bade me stay indoors and rest. I'm glad youcalled and brought me a book, especially this wonderful 'RobinsonCrusoe,' of which I have heard vaguely, and which they say is foundedon the adventure of a Scotsman, Alexander Selkirk. You are alwaysthoughtful, or shall I say sometimes?" and Marget looked as if sheexpected me to understand the qualification.

  Was it a reproach that I did not come into her company often enough;was it a playful invitation to do so oftener; or was it the woman'sprimal instinct, old as Eve in the Garden of Eden, just to tease theman? I scarcely asked myself those questions. They ran through mymind with the kind of physical impulse which you feel in the presenceof the possible woman. You are aware, then, of feelings and shadows offeeling which cannot be expressed. There is something in you whichgoes on speaking to the something in her, and you let it speak, glad,wondering, expectant, never sure, never sorry. Odd, isn't it, thislanguage of sex which says most when it says nothing by speech, whichneeds not speech, because it is spiritual, though springing, maybe,from the call of the blood.

  Marget had been reading, and when she invited me in, and I went, sheput the open book face downward on a little table, beside a half-madesampler. She saw my eye wandering to the volume, a mere mechanicalcuriosity on my part, and she picked it up with a laugh, saying, "Thereis no need to hide those pages, unless it be that they are dull."

  "What is the book all about?" I asked idly.

  "It is a French romance," she said, "in which a lovely heroine treadsher way through an endless maze of difficult paths and a brigade ofvillains to what, I have no doubt, when I get there with her, if ever Ido, will be endless wedded bliss. It is an over-sentimental story, forthe French young girl, but, then, one must try to keep up what Frenchone has, because it is a delightful language."

  Marget had learned it as a girl in France, for she had lived there awhile, seen something of the Stuart Court over the water, of the Courtof King Louis also, and even heard the passing rustle of the skirts of"the Pompadour" and Madame du Barry. Already the breath of a freer dayto come was blowing across that fair land, and her stay in itdefinitely influenced Marget's character, ripened it quickly on broadlybeautiful lines, without hurting its pure scent of Scottish heather.

  Hospitality was a duty as well as a pleasure in every Highland home,and, after our trifles of a few minutes, she rose and went to give someorder. When she returned she said she had a small treat in store forme, and it came into the room almost with herself. What do you thinkit was? Why, tea!

  It was a beverage then almost unknown in the Scottish Highlands, butMarget's family, as she said, had at intervals received packets of itfrom their friends in the south. Those gifts were hoarded as if theycontained treasure, and only dipped into for very special reasons.

  "It flatters me," I remarked airily, "to think I am a special reason,because that must come near being a special friend."

  "Oh," quoth Marget, "but you are an official enemy, so how could you bea special friend? And still such things are possible, you know, but Ishall not tell you how they are possible. You would not understand abit"; and, as she spoke, her eyes and hands were arranging thetea-table.

  "I should, I assure you, try very hard," said I, "and it would be oddif I did not succeed, with a dish of tea for stimulant. I don'tremember when I tasted tea last," I added laconically, as Marget pouredit out of a quaint old pot into dwarfy cups of French mould. Most ofthe dainty things, the bric-a-brac of households in the JacobiteHighlands were from France, just as we had come to say "ashets" and"gigots" of mutton, and generally to graft French cookery into ourScottish meals, for the "Auld Alliance" had various harvests.

  As we talked over the tea-cups, Marget and I, I thought how quickly inthat Nature's cradle of Corgarff she had ripened to woman's estate.She had, at times, been in touch with the artificialities of sociallife, but they had not dulled her free, strong character. She haddrawn her instincts, as she had drawn her blood, from the long hills,and she had no self-consciousness to dim her lights. But when I roseto leave she said merrily, "We have spoken much foolish nonsense, havewe not, Captain Gordon?"

  "Wise nonsense, Mistress Forbes," I answered.

  "Thank you, but wise nonsense is most becoming when it is expressed asa parable."

  "Then let us have the parable."

  "Oh! parables are not in fashion with so many hard realities about, andthere should not be three people in one. Three's never company, theysay, good company, even in a parable."

  "Then, dear lady, why put in three?"

  "This parable, dear Captain, would need three; first, a high-mindedyoung man who wears arms and dreams dreams, who is beloved by everybodyfor his good nature and qualities, who is on the other side of where hewould be most welcome, and who will probably never summon courage toget there; secondly, an older man of more picturesque, more riskyqualities, an adventurer in love and war, never afraid to strike, evenif the stroke might wound, a personality able, on occasion, tocommandeer what could not be secured by affection, thanks to anunderstanding of woman's nature and the imperfections of man'sgovernment; and, thirdly, between those personal forces a woman whomight, to her undoing, be captured by the force of family and statecircumstances, instead of by the man of her tell-tale heart's desire."

  "A very subtle parable!" I remarked, for no reason whatever, but thetone of it held more than this banality, although she showed no heed ofthat, but remarked:

  "No; a very common parable; it's what every woman knows by instinct orexperience, if few would care to reveal it, even in a parable."

  We said good-bye without more ado, and I set off for the castle,troubled for my unreadiness in woman nature, the most puzzling,calling, captivating skein in all the universe, because it holds,behind the silken veil of its treasure-house, the eternal mystery ofcreation, that something divine which is nearest to God Himself.

  When in trouble, my trouble, anyhow, one sighs for a song, and myheart-quaking carried me to a ballad, very familiar in our countryside,which tells of an unbridled lover laying siege to a woman he covets.Her men were absent, and she and her domestics were the only garrisonof the castle when he knocked roysterously at its gates:

  "The lady ran up to her towe-head, As fast as she could drie, To see if by her fair speeches She could with him agree.

  "As soon he saw the lady fair, And her yates all locked fast, He fell into a rage of wrath, And his heart was aghast.

  "Cum doon to me, ye lady fair; Cum doon to me; let's see; This nigh ye's ly by my ain side The morn my bride sall be!"

  It was pagan wooing, but it has often won the day, only why should Ilet it disturb me, whose cause stood by itself? What I must realizewas that powers above me were at work, for "state reasons," on affairsin which I was concerned, privat
ely. I must try to meet this influencewithout letting as much be known outwardly, because I was an officerbound by my commission to serve his Majesty's desires and commands.

  Now I am no good schemer, and I merely drifted to those conclusions asa swimmer goes with a tide in which he happens to find himself. Hefeels that he is in its custody, but, on the instinct for life, hemakes a stroke now and then and their cumulative effect probably bearshim somewhere safe to land. Might it be so with me!

  Unfortunately I was a swimmer in the dark, for I did not know, howeverI might guess, what Marget and her mother were thinking. Perhaps myheart really assured my mind as to Marget, or so I was fain toconclude. Her mother, however, might take a mother's view, thefar-carrying view which thinks of daughters settled in such a manner aswill continue the old line.

  Every man has, deep down in him, the desire to own a little bit ofland, even though most of us only get six feet for a grave. It isman's form of ancestor-worship, and in woman it finds expression in thehome, and continuous olive branches to fill that home. The man likesto have his foot securely on a rood of Mother Earth, a patch to callhis very own. The woman supplements that by peopling a house; and isnot this service of the maternal instinct the greater, the finer of thetwo?

  One placed in circumstances which need strong action, should not thinktoo much, because by doing that he raises a wall of difficulties aroundhim. Mental ghosts are no use to anybody, although, to be sure, theyweren't unknown to me. So I welcomed a letter that reached me nextmorning from Marget's mother, but I opened it with a dread. Itaddressed me as "Dear Captain Gordon," and it read:

  "I am troubling you for advice, because there is nobody else whom I canask, and because the matter may interest you, both as a relative, farremoved I admit, and as a soldier of the reigning king. You will guesswhat it is, and that makes it easier for me to explain.

  "It has been made known to us in a round-about, but authoritative way,that it would give King George and his ministers satisfaction to seeour house and people established again, and that Jock Farquharson, thelaird of Inverey, would be confirmed in the chiefship, if as much wereagreeable to my daughter and myself.

  "They don't ask me will I give my daughter in ransom for the house andpossessions of our ancestors, but that is what is meant, and you canjudge how the idea has concerned me. You may also, however, concernand interest a mother at the same time, and I have hesitated to returna 'No,' especially as Marget said, about the letter, when I showed itto her, 'Well, the sons of the house have sacrificed enough for it. Itmay now be the turn of the daughter to sacrifice something . . .!"

  "That was dutifully said, but what she expects, I'm certain, is that Ishall say the 'No' of my own accord, and I want your advice as to themanner in which it can best be done. I want it at once, because newscomes to me, through the early channel of our domestics, that the BlackColonel means to ride over upon us one of these evenings, a friendlycall, I suppose. Marget does not know of this intention on his part,and I am not going to tell her, for a mother's instinct naturallywishes to shield a daughter from disturbance.

  "If you would advise me how to say 'No' without bringing furtherdispleasure from high places upon our ruined house, you would be doingus a service. If, besides that, you were to find a means of keepingthe Black Colonel away, why, you would be doing a further service."

  As I read that last sentence an idea struck me, and I at once sent anote to the dear lady, saying I would solve her difficulty. Then Idispatched a pair of trusty scouts in quest of certain information Ineeded, and in eight hours they were back with it. After that, I feltmore myself than I had done for some time, just because I was nowcommitted to definite, perhaps even dangerous, action.