Rose Galbraith

by Grace Livingston Hill

“I thank you,” she said. “It is very kind of you to think of me. But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just stay here with my aunt and uncle. I’ve only just come, you know, and this castle is a delight to me. Besides, I found a book in my room I would dearly love to read, and I had counted on playing a little while on my mother’s piano, some of the dear old hymns she used to love and sing to me when I was little—that is, if it won’t annoy my aunt.”

  Unexpectedly, Aunt Janet’s eyes kindled.

  “Why, yes, I should like that!” she said with sudden unusual enthusiasm. “Yes, I found a pile of her old hymn books that she used to play from when I was going through the closet by the chimney last night. I should like to hear you play them. Do you sing?”

  “Why, yes, a little,” said Rose shyly.

  “Then we will have an afternoon of music,” said Lady Warloch, looking at Lord MacCallummore with decision in her face. “Perhaps you will stay and enjoy it with us?”

  Lord MacCallummore was not accustomed to having his plans switched around in this way, and he looked at Lady Warloch with a deepening frown on his brow and then speculatively at Rose, his eyes narrowing. Just who did this little American upstart think she was to decline his offer of a drive and make her own plans for the household? He was not used to having the girls of that region say no to his invitations. He was considered a great catch. A lord, living in one of the finest old castles in the neighborhood. Not rich yet, of course, but he would be when his father died. Immensely rich. Or so it was supposed. What was this girl’s game anyway? Didn’t she know that he would not brook refusal?

  But they went into the great ballroom and Rose sat down at the piano again. All the afternoon she played to them and sang.

  First she played the old tunes her mother used to play. She did not need the worn old books to play them, for she knew them all by heart. Her mother had played and sung them to her many a time. And as the afternoon waned and the twilight brought deep shadows in the great room, her uncle, who had found the most comfortable chair the room contained and arranged himself restfully, was deep in slumber. Audible slumber sometimes, but the piano covered all that nicely, and it was a comfort to know that he would not rouse and begin to criticize.

  And Lord MacCallummore, with a hard calculating look in his eyes, sat stiffly in a high straight-backed chair and thought his mercenary thoughts. More and more the sweet girl with the big blue eyes, the lashes long and lovely, and the little frills of golden brown hair about her face figured in his plans. He was not a musician. He did not enjoy music. But he sat and listened. There was nothing else he could do at that particular minute, for he had words to say to the Lord Warloch, and he could not very well say them to a man who was snoring in a deep bass rumble. He could not touch him lightly on the shoulder and suggest that they withdraw for a little, for he must not offend Lady Warloch, who had so suddenly developed a will of her own and an interest in music. She might be needed as an ally later. He gave her a casual glance and saw that her eyes were wet with tears again the way they had been last night. She had always seemed to side with her parents in this matter of her sister’s marriage, but women changed sometimes, and sentiment had a great power over them, it was said. This girl was very attractive indeed, and there was no telling how much influence she might not exercise over her aunt if she stayed long enough. No, he could not afford to displease Lady Warloch. So he decided to brave it out and stay.

  He stayed until tea was brought in. The butler lighted the logs in the great fireplace that graced the big ballroom, and the soft flames played over the sweet face of the girl-mother in the gold frame above the piano.

  Now Rose was seated so that he could get a full view of her lovely face and see the light and shadows that played over it and brought out her sweet expression. It would be nice to have a pretty woman like that around belonging to him. She wasn’t exactly a conventional Lady MacCallummore, but perhaps his mother could teach her to be. His mother was high-born, after all.

  So he stayed till Lord Warloch had finished his tea and invited him into the library for a smoke, and then Rose escaped to her own room and the book she longed to read.

  But first she got out her little Bible and looked up those verses that had given her such comfort in the morning service.

  Chapter 10

  Rose awoke very early the next morning. It came to her that she had a great deal to do before breakfast. She didn’t know how she was going to manage things today, but she felt that she should be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Yet she had made no plans for getting away beyond her frantic young prayers. She was merely fearful of developments.

  For there was no telling what her uncle and that other lord had talked about last night, nor what they had decided to do with her. She felt that at any minute now information concerning her financial state would be demanded of her, and she didn’t intend to give it. It was not her uncle’s affair, and she did not like the idea of their plotting to marry her off. She must get out and away from here. And yet she must do it discreetly.

  She dressed quickly, in such a way that she could go as she was if opportunity offered, or at least have only to slip into another dress and fold the one she had been wearing and put it into the suitcase in a trice. It had occurred to her that there must be delivery men coming to the house in the mornings, and surely she could pay one of them to take her away if necessity made it expedient. She might even have to take the journey on foot down to the town, but she wasn’t sure she could manage the two suitcases, even if she wore her coat and didn’t have to carry it, and she was not minded to leave any of her few possessions behind her.

  Besides, she didn’t want to go in any such stealthy way. She didn’t want to leave a bitterness behind her. For by this time she was beginning to suspect that Aunt Janet had a heart hidden away somewhere behind that stiff exterior of hers, and that it had suffered more or less as it rattled around through the years in the midst of family traditions and formalism. Just for her mother’s sake, if not for her aunt’s, Rose didn’t want to cause any more unpleasantness. She was convinced that unless she was driven by some dire necessity, as her mother had been, she must leave in a quiet, rational way, with no dramatic scenes and no discussion about it. Perhaps she might write her grandmother to send for her, but somehow that didn’t seem the natural thing to do. She had prayed to be guided. She had handed this thing over to the Lord to manage for her, and it didn’t seem right that she should try to manage it herself, especially as no way seemed open at the moment. She would wait for the Lord to show her. But she would be ready to go when the time came and not have to delay about silly things like packing. She was safe to put her things in the suitcase now, she felt, for she had convinced Maggie that she could look after herself and didn’t need the services of a maid.

  So she began swiftly to fold her garments and lay them neatly in the suitcases, so that at a moment’s notice she could sweep the rest into place and get away if need be.

  When she went down to breakfast in a neat morning dress she had made herself—little blue flowers scattered over a white background, and a piping of blue edging the bands that finished the neck and sleeves and pockets, she looked very sweet and serviceable for the day. There was no hint about her costume that she contemplated a hasty departure. Indeed, she really didn’t, for she could not see her way ahead.

  She was trying not to think about any plans yet, for she knew she was quite transparent, and she didn’t want her aunt and uncle to notice any excitement about her manner. But in the background of her mind there was the continual consciousness that Lord MacCallummore firmly intended to come and take her to drive somewhere that day, and she as firmly did not intend to go. It probably would make a rumpus in the house if she refused, but she would try to do it sweetly somehow. Meantime, she kept reminding herself that she was under the immediate care of the Almighty. She must not fret her soul, she must trust.

  At the breakfast table it developed that the invitation to dinner at the
MacCallummore Castle had been made a definite date for Wednesday.

  Rose drew a soft little breath of relief. She had been so afraid that somehow the young lord would manage it that they should come today or tomorrow. Wednesday left a lot of leeway. Perhaps by that time she could manage to get away, and the dinner which seemed to have been planned in her honor would not have to be discussed. It seemed that the dinner was actually for the purpose of having the older MacCallummores look her over and see if she were eligible for their son. At least she could not get away from the thought that this was why they were being invited. She shrank from the idea inexpressibly. Yet she knew it would surely make trouble for her to decline.

  It appeared during the breakfast talk that there was a funeral that morning which the Warlochs felt obliged to attend, and Lady Warloch, looking at Rose with a worried expression said, “We shall be gone some time, Margaret. The funeral is at a distance, and as the family have been intimate acquaintances, it may be late afternoon before we can return. Can you interest yourself in reading or playing the piano while we are gone? Or would you like me to send word over to young Lord MacCallummore to come and take you driving? I am sure he would be glad to do that if he has leisure this morning.”

  “No, he has not!” said Lord Warloch abruptly. “He told me last night he has very important business in Edinburgh which will take him practically all day.”

  “Oh!” said the aunt.

  “But I would much rather play and read anyway, if you don’t mind, Aunt Janet!” said Rose, with almost a lilt in her voice. She felt as if she had an unexpected reprieve. “I shall be quite all right and enjoy myself very much.”

  “Very well,” said Lady Warloch as she rose from the table. “Then I think we shall start at once.”

  Rose watched them depart with a light in her eyes. She felt as if she had a very precious pleasure ahead of her. She could be alone with the wonderful painting of her dear mother. No curious eyes to watch her when she looked at it and smiled at it. It was like having Mother alone with her. Mother, just another girl like herself.

  The morning began very joyously, alone in the big old ballroom with the piano and her mother’s picture, with quiet all about her, and Rose’s happy eyes lifted now and then to the picture. Her own voice asked a question now and again as she finished playing something. “How do you like that, Mother dear? Did I play it the way you used to play it?”

  It was a beautiful two hours she spent, the first real comfort that she had felt since she came to the castle, because she had no present dread of any disapproving relatives in the background and did not need to fear the sudden arrival of Lord MacCallummore.

  Then suddenly the scene changed. Maggie appeared at her side with a letter.

  “Special deleevery,” she said excitedly. “It’s for yirsel’. The b’y coom awl the wy oop the hill wi’ it from the post, juist for ane letter!”

  “Oh, thank you,” said Rose, looking curiously at the letter. Now what was this? She did not know the handwriting. Could it be from Gordon McCarroll? The roses flew into her cheeks, and then she knew she was foolish. No letter could have come so soon from America, and besides, this letter had the Kilcreggan postmark!

  Her trembling fingers tore the letter open and she read.

  When she had finished, she looked up to her mother’s picture, and it was almost as if a look of assurance passed between the painted eyes and her own.

  “God answered my prayer!” she murmured softly to the picture. “Here is a way out.”

  She hurried out to find the region of the kitchen and discovered Maggie polishing the silver in the butler’s pantry.

  “Maggie, do you know anything about the trains?” she asked eagerly. “Would you know what time there is a train for Glasgow? I’ve just got word that my grandmother is ill and is anxious to see me. They want me to come as soon as possible. Would there be a way for me to get to the station, or would I have to walk down the mountain?”

  “Ah! The puir auld buddy!” said Maggie sympathetically. “Is she that bahd? A’m not sae shure aboot the trains, but the butler kens thae fine. Tammas, coom ye here a meenit. The yoong leddy wants tae ken aboot the trains. Cud ye tell her?”

  The butler appeared, with interest. Not many things like this happened at the castle to break the monotony of the day.

  “There’s a train tae Glasgow aroond the noon oor,” he said thoughtfully, “but ye scurce cud be ready by then, cud ye?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Rose eagerly. “I could be ready in almost no time, but how would I get down the mountain? Is there a taxi I could send for?”

  “The baker’s lad will be by ony meenit noo!” said Maggie helpfully. “But ye winna gang till my lady returns, wull ye?”

  Rose caught her breath.

  “Oh,” she said, her brows puckered softly. “Yes, I think I must. They said I should come at once. I can leave a note for my aunt explaining about it.”

  “But was there no to be a pairty oop at the MacCallummore Castle coom Wednesday nicht? Ye’ll be no missin’ the dinner, wull ye?”

  Rose flashed a quick look at her that had relief hidden behind it. “I must!” she said. “They said my grandmother was ‘wearying’ for me, and she’s very old, you know, and feeble. She hasn’t been well for some time. Besides, my cousin is meeting the trains for me, hoping I’ll get there soon. I really must go. You wouldn’t stop for a party if it was your grandmother, would you, Maggie?”

  “Deed ’n I wudna,” said Maggie, with quick tears springing to her kindly eyes. “Gin the dear auld soul were in Scotland, I’d roon a’ the way tae Glasgow.”

  “Of course!” said Rose with a tender smile. “So now, Maggie, I’ll run and get ready and write my note to Aunt Janet, and you let me know when the baker’s boy comes, will you, please?”

  “That I wull,” said Maggie. “An’ a’ll be oop tae he’p ye.”

  “Oh, no need of that. I’ll soon hustle my things in. I’m used to hurrying, and I know just where they go.”

  She fairly flew up the stairs to her room, and by the time Maggie had finished what she was doing and got around to tell the butler to watch for the baker’s boy, Rose had her suitcases well in hand. All she could give Maggie to do was to put in the little blue flowered dress she had been wearing, while she slipped into her traveling frock.

  “The baker’s lad has gane on oop the road a coopla miles tae take an order,” Maggie announced as she came in, “an’ he’ll be back an’ get ye, he says, in a few meenits.”

  “Oh, that’s nice,” said Rose. “Then I’ll have plenty of time to write my note.”

  “Aye, mind ye write that. My lady wull be turrible upset. I fear me sair she’ll gie me thae blame, lettin’ ye gang wi’ oot her.”

  “Oh, she can’t blame you, Maggie. You couldn’t have kept me. Why, I have to go! She’ll understand, surely! And I’ll write her again when I get there. She won’t be angry.”

  “Well, ye better coom doon an’ have a bit loonch. Ye’ll be hungry on the wy. It’s a lang ride tae Glasgow. I cud get the baker’s lad tae wait a wee whilie for ye.”

  “Oh, no, Maggie. I wouldn’t want to run the risk of missing that train. Just give me a bit of that lovely cold scone in a paper and I’ll put it in my handbag.”

  So Maggie hurried down to get a nice little lunch for her, while Rose wrote her note. She dreaded writing that note, and yet it was far better than to have to explain face to face and hear the scathing tones of Aunt Janet’s voice when she took in that it was the hated relatives who wanted her and to whom she was rushing away, leaving that dinner party entirely out of consideration. So she sat down and wrote quickly.

  Dear Aunt Janet,

  I am so sorry to have to run away this way while you are gone, but I just had a special delivery letter saying that my grandmother needs me. She is very old and feeble and has been ill. She is fretting for my coming. She is afraid she may not live to see me. They have asked me to come at once and are meeting me at the trai
n. I know you will understand and forgive me for going without saying good-bye. If I had waited till you returned, I would have had to wait a whole day for a train, you know.

  Please make my apologies to Lord MacCallummore for not being able to attend the dinner. Thank you and Uncle Robert for all you have done for me.

  Hastily, Love,

  Rose Margaret

  She hesitated over the ending. Was it strictly true? What had they done for her? And then that impersonal “love” at the end! Was that a lie too? A courteous little lie? No, but she ought to love them, oughtn’t she? Or could she, when they had been so hard on her mother and so ugly about her father? Well, she hadn’t time to study over it.

  So she folded the note and addressed it to her aunt and hurried downstairs, for she heard a truck driving in and hoped that was the baker’s boy.

  The butler met her three steps down and took her suitcases.

  “Sorry ye hed tae hoorry this wy,” he deplored as they went down. “My lady will be sair tribbled that ye had tae gang awa this wy.”

  “Oh, it’s all right, Thomas,” said Rose, smiling and handing him a bit of money. “I’m just grateful to you that you found this way for me to go. I would have been very much worried if I’d had to miss my train.”

  Maggie was there at the foot of the stairs, with a “bit boondle” as she called the lunch which she had neatly wrapped in paper, and she got her bit of money too, for indeed, Rose was grateful for this getaway which couldn’t have been carried out without their help. She also was a little fearful lest they might have to endure some unpleasantness on her behalf, when the lord and lady of the castle returned.

  But at last, with her suitcases stowed away in the back of the baker’s truck, she said good-bye to the servants who had helped her so graciously, and climbed in beside the baker’s boy.

  “Tell Aunt Janet I was very sorry I had to leave in this hasty way,” was her parting word to Maggie, and then they drove off down the mountain, Rose keeping a constant lookout to be sure that her aunt and uncle didn’t appear unexpectedly on the scene and block her way even yet, though it was scarcely conceivable that a funeral at a distance could be over so soon.