The Great Shadow and Other Napoleonic Tales

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  Produced by Lionel G. Sear

  THE GREAT SHADOW AND OTHER NAPOLEONIC TALES

  A. CONAN DOYLE

  CONTENTS

  THE GREAT SHADOW

  I. THE NIGHT OF THE BEACONS

  II. COUSIN EDIE OF EYEMOUTH

  III. THE SHADOW ON THE WATERS

  IV. THE CHOOSING OF JIM

  V. THE MAN FROM THE SEA

  VI. A WANDERING EAGLE

  VII. THE SHADOW ON THE LAND

  VIII. THE COMING OF THE CUTTER

  IX. THE DOINGS AT WEST INCH

  X. THE RETURN OF THE SHADOW

  XI. THE GATHERING OF THE NATIONS

  XII. THE SHADOW ON THE LAND

  XIII. THE END OF THE STORM

  XIV. THE TALLY OF DEATH

  XV. THE END OF IT

  THE CRIME OF THE BRIGADIER

  THE "SLAPPING SAL"

  THE GREAT SHADOW.

  CHAPTER I.

  THE NIGHT OF THE BEACONS.

  It is strange to me, Jock Calder of West Inch, to feel that though now,in the very centre of the nineteenth century, I am but five-and-fiftyyears of age, and though it is only once in a week perhaps that my wifecan pluck out a little grey bristle from over my ear, yet I have livedin a time when the thoughts and the ways of men were as different asthough it were another planet from this. For when I walk in my fields Ican see, down Berwick way, the little fluffs of white smoke which tellme of this strange new hundred-legged beast, with coals for food and athousand men in its belly, for ever crawling over the border.On a shiny day I can see the glint of the brass work as it takes thecurve near Corriemuir; and then, as I look out to sea, there is the samebeast again, or a dozen of them maybe, leaving a trail of black in theair and of white in the water, and swimming in the face of the wind aseasily as a salmon up the Tweed. Such a sight as that would have struckmy good old father speechless with wrath as well as surprise; for he wasso stricken with the fear of offending the Creator that he was chary ofcontradicting Nature, and always held the new thing to be nearly akin tothe blasphemous. As long as God made the horse, and a man downBirmingham way the engine, my good old dad would have stuck by thesaddle and the spurs.

  But he would have been still more surprised had he seen the peace andkindliness which reigns now in the hearts of men, and the talk in thepapers and at the meetings that there is to be no more war--save, ofcourse, with blacks and such like. For when he died we had beenfighting with scarce a break, save only during two short years, for verynearly a quarter of a century. Think of it, you who live so quietly andpeacefully now! Babies who were born in the war grew to be bearded menwith babies of their own, and still the war continued. Those who hadserved and fought in their stalwart prime grew stiff and bent, and yetthe ships and the armies were struggling. It was no wonder that folkcame at last to look upon it as the natural state, and thought how queerit must seem to be at peace. During that long time we fought the Dutch,we fought the Danes, we fought the Spanish, we fought the Turks, wefought the Americans, we fought the Monte-Videans, until it seemed thatin this universal struggle no race was too near of kin, or too far away,to be drawn into the quarrel. But most of all it was the French whom wefought, and the man whom of all others we loathed and feared and admiredwas the great Captain who ruled them.

  It was very well to draw pictures of him, and sing songs about him, andmake as though he were an impostor; but I can tell you that the fear ofthat man hung like a black shadow over all Europe, and that there was atime when the glint of a fire at night upon the coast would set everywoman upon her knees and every man gripping for his musket. He hadalways won: that was the terror of it. The Fates seemed to be behindhim. And now we knew that he lay upon the northern coast with a hundredand fifty thousand veterans, and the boats for their passage. But it isan old story, how a third of the grown folk of our country took up arms,and how our little one-eyed, one-armed man crushed their fleet.There was still to be a land of free thinking and free speaking inEurope.

  There was a great beacon ready on the hill by Tweedmouth, built up oflogs and tar-barrels; and I can well remember how, night after night, Istrained my eyes to see if it were ablaze. I was only eight at thetime, but it is an age when one takes a grief to heart, and I felt asthough the fate of the country hung in some fashion upon me and myvigilance. And then one night as I looked I suddenly saw a littleflicker on the beacon hill--a single red tongue of flame in thedarkness. I remember how I rubbed my eyes, and pinched myself, andrapped my knuckles against the stone window-sill, to make sure that Iwas indeed awake. And then the flame shot higher, and I saw the redquivering line upon the water between; and I dashed into the kitchen,screeching to my father that the French had crossed and the Tweedmouthlight was aflame. He had been talking to Mr. Mitchell, the law studentfrom Edinburgh; and I can see him now as he knocked his pipe out at theside of the fire, and looked at me from over the top of his hornspectacles.

  "Are you sure, Jock?" says he.

  "Sure as death!" I gasped.

  He reached out his hand for the Bible upon the table, and opened it uponhis knee as though he meant to read to us; but he shut it again insilence, and hurried out. We went too, the law student and I, andfollowed him down to the gate which opens out upon the highway. Fromthere we could see the red light of the big beacon, and the glimmer of asmaller one to the north of us at Ayton. My mother came down with twoplaids to keep the chill from us, and we all stood there until morning,speaking little to each other, and that little in a whisper. The roadhad more folk on it than ever passed along it at night before; for manyof the yeomen up our way had enrolled themselves in the Berwickvolunteer regiments, and were riding now as fast as hoof could carrythem for the muster. Some had a stirrup cup or two before parting, andI cannot forget one who tore past on a huge white horse, brandishing agreat rusty sword in the moonlight. They shouted to us as they passedthat the North Berwick Law fire was blazing, and that it was thoughtthat the alarm had come from Edinburgh Castle. There were a few whogalloped the other way, couriers for Edinburgh, and the laird's son, andMaster Clayton, the deputy sheriff, and such like. And among othersthere was one a fine built, heavy man on a roan horse, who pulled up atour gate and asked some question about the road. He took off his hat toease himself, and I saw that he had a kindly long-drawn face, and agreat high brow that shot away up into tufts of sandy hair.

  "I doubt it's a false alarm," said he. "Maybe I'd ha' done well to bidewhere I was; but now I've come so far, I'll break my fast with theregiment."

  He clapped spurs to his horse, and away he went down the brae.

  "I ken him weel," said our student, nodding after him. "He's a lawyerin Edinburgh, and a braw hand at the stringin' of verses. Wattie Scottis his name."

  None of us had heard of it then; but it was not long before it was thebest known name in Scotland, and many a time we thought of how hespeered his way of us on the night of the terror.

  But early in the morning we had our minds set at ease. It was grey andcold, and my mother had gone up to the house to make a pot of tea forus, when there came a gig down the road with Dr. Horscroft of Ayton init and his son Jim. The collar of the doctor's brown coat came over hisears, and he looked in a deadly black humour; for Jim, who was butfifteen years of age, had trooped off to Berwick at the first alarm withhis father's new fowling piece. All night his dad had chased him, andnow there he was, a prisoner, with the barrel of the stolen gun stickingout from behind the seat. He looked as sulky as his father, with hishands thrust into his side-pockets, his brows drawn down, and his lowerlip thrusting out.

  "It's all a lie!"
shouted the doctor as he passed. "There has been nolanding, and all the fools in Scotland have been gadding about the roadsfor nothing."

  His son Jim snarled something up at him on this, and his father struckhim a blow with his clenched fist on the side of his head, which sentthe boy's chin forward upon his breast as though he had been stunned.My father shook his head, for he had a liking for Jim; but we all walkedup to the house again, nodding and blinking, and hardly able to keep oureyes open now that we knew that all was safe, but with a thrill of joyat our hearts such as I have only matched once or twice in mylifetime.

  Now all this has little enough to do with what I took my pen up to tellabout; but when a man has a good memory and little skill, he cannot drawone thought from his mind without a dozen others trailing out behind it.And yet, now that I come to think of it, this had something to do withit after all; for Jim Horscroft had so deadly a quarrel with his father,that he was packed off to the Berwick Academy, and as my father had longwished me to go there, he took advantage of this chance to send me also.

  But before I say a word about this school, I shall go back to where Ishould have begun, and give you a hint as to who I am; for it may bethat these words of mine may be read by some folk beyond the bordercountry who never heard of the Calders of West Inch.

  It has a brave sound, West Inch, but it is not a fine estate with abraw house upon it, but only a great hard-bitten, wind-swept sheep run,fringing off into links along the sea-shore, where a frugal man mightwith hard work just pay his rent and have butter instead of treacle onSundays. In the centre there is a grey-stoned slate-roofed house with abyre behind it, and "1703" scrawled in stonework over the lintel of thedoor. There for more than a hundred years our folk have lived, until,for all their poverty, they came to take a good place among the people;for in the country parts the old yeoman is often better thought of thanthe new laird.

  There was one queer thing about the house of West Inch. It has beenreckoned by engineers and other knowing folk that the boundary linebetween the two countries ran right through the middle of it, splittingour second-best bedroom into an English half and a Scotch half. Now thecot in which I always slept was so placed that my head was to the northof the line and my feet to the south of it. My friends say that if Ihad chanced to lie the other way my hair might not have been so sandy,nor my mind of so solemn a cast. This I know, that more than once in mylife, when my Scotch head could see no way out of a danger, my goodthick English legs have come to my help, and carried me clear away.But at school I never heard the end of this, for they would call me"Half-and-half" and "The Great Britain," and sometimes "Union Jack."When there was a battle between the Scotch and English boys, one sidewould kick my shins and the other cuff my ears, and then they would bothstop and laugh as though it were something funny.

  At first I was very miserable at the Berwick Academy. Birtwhistle wasthe first master, and Adams the second, and I had no love for either ofthem. I was shy and backward by nature, and slow at making a friendeither among masters or boys. It was nine miles as the crow flies, andeleven and a half by road, from Berwick to West Inch, and my heart grewheavy at the weary distance that separated me from my mother; for, markyou, a lad of that age pretends that he has no need of his mother'scaresses, but ah, how sad he is when he is taken at his word! At last Icould stand it no longer, and I determined to run away from the schooland make my way home as fast as I might. At the very last moment,however, I had the good fortune to win the praise and admiration ofevery one, from the headmaster downwards, and to find my school lifemade very pleasant and easy to me. And all this came of my falling byaccident out of a second-floor window.

  This was how it happened. One evening I had been kicked by Ned Barton,who was the bully of the school; and this injury coming on the top ofall my other grievances, caused my little cup to overflow. I vowed thatnight, as I buried my tear-stained face beneath the blankets, that thenext morning would either find me at West Inch or well on the way to it.Our dormitory was on the second floor, but I was a famous climber, andhad a fine head for heights. I used to think little, young as I was, ofswinging myself with a rope round my thigh off the West Inch gable, andthat stood three-and-fifty feet above the ground. There was not muchfear then but that I could make my way out of Birtwhistle's dormitory.I waited a weary while until the coughing and tossing had died away, andthere was no sound of wakefulness from the long line of wooden cots;then I very softly rose, slipped on my clothes, took my shoes in myhand, and walked tiptoe to the window. I opened the casement and lookedout. Underneath me lay the garden, and close by my hand was the stoutbranch of a pear tree. An active lad could ask no better ladder.Once in the garden I had but a five-foot wall to get over, and thenthere was nothing but distance between me and home. I took a firm gripof a branch with one hand, placed my knee upon another one, and wasabout to swing myself out of the window, when in a moment I was assilent and as still as though I had been turned to stone.

  There was a face looking at me from over the coping of the wall. Achill of fear struck to my heart at its whiteness and its stillness.The moon shimmered upon it, and the eyeballs moved slowly from side toside, though I was hid from them behind the screen of the pear tree.Then in a jerky fashion this white face ascended, until the neck,shoulders, waist, and knees of a man became visible. He sat himselfdown on the top of the wall, and with a great heave he pulled up afterhim a boy about my own size, who caught his breath from time to time asthough to choke down a sob. The man gave him a shake, with a few roughwhispered words, and then the two dropped together down into the garden.I was still standing balanced with one foot upon the bough and one uponthe casement, not daring to budge for fear of attracting theirattention, for I could hear them moving stealthily about in the longshadow of the house. Suddenly, from immediately beneath my feet, Iheard a low grating noise and the sharp tinkle of falling glass.

  "That's done it," said the man's eager whisper. "There is room foryou."

  "But the edge is all jagged!" cried the other in a weak quaver.

  The fellow burst out into an oath that made my skin pringle.

  "In with you, you cub," he snarled, "or--"

  I could not see what he did, but there was a short, quick gasp of pain.

  "I'll go! I'll go!" cried the little lad.

  But I heard no more, for my head suddenly swam, my heel shot off thebranch, I gave a dreadful yell, and came down, with my ninety-fivepounds of weight, right upon the bent back of the burglar. If you askme, I can only say that to this day I am not quite certain whether itwas an accident or whether I designed it. It may be that while I wasthinking of doing it Chance settled the matter for me. The fellow wasstooping with his head forward thrusting the boy through a tiny window,when I came down upon him just where the neck joins the spine. He gavea kind of whistling cry, dropped upon his face, and rolled three timesover, drumming on the grass with his heels. His little companionflashed off in the moonlight, and was over the wall in a trice. As forme, I sat yelling at the pitch of my lungs and nursing one of my legs,which felt as if a red-hot ring were welded round it.

  It was not long, as may be imagined, before the whole household, fromthe headmaster to the stable boy, were out in the garden with lamps andlanterns. The matter was soon cleared: the man carried off upon ashutter, and I borne in much state and solemnity to a special bedroom,where the small bone of my leg was set by Surgeon Purdie, the younger ofthe two brothers of that name. As to the robber, it was found that hislegs were palsied, and the doctors were of two minds as to whether hewould recover the use of them or no; but the Law never gave them achance of settling the matter, for he was hanged after Carlisle assizes,some six weeks later. It was proved that he was the most desperaterogue in the North of England, for he had done three murders at theleast, and there were charges enough against him upon the sheet to havehanged him ten times over.

  Well now, I could not pass over my boyhood without telling you aboutthis, which was the most important thing t
hat happened to me. But Iwill go off upon no more side tracks; for when I think of all that iscoming, I can see very well that I shall have more than enough to dobefore I have finished. For when a man has only his own little privatetale to tell, it often takes him all his time; but when he gets mixed upin such great matters as I shall have to speak about, then it is hard onhim, if he has not been brought up to it, to get it all set down to hisliking. But my memory is as good as ever, thank God, and I shall try toget it all straight before I finish.

  It was this business of the burglar that first made a friendship betweenJim Horscroft, the doctor's son, and me. He was cock boy of the schoolfrom the day he came; for within the hour he had thrown Barton, who hadbeen cock before him, right through the big blackboard in theclass-room. Jim always ran to muscle and bone, and even then he wassquare and tall, short of speech and long in the arm, much given tolounging with his broad back against walls, and his hands deep in hisbreeches pockets. I can even recall that he had a trick of keeping astraw in the corner of his mouth, just where he used afterwards to holdhis pipe. Jim was always the same for good and for bad since first Iknew him.

  Heavens, how we all looked up to him! We were but young savages, andhad a savage's respect for power. There was Tom Carndale of Appleby,who could write alcaics as well as mere pentameters and hexameters, yetnobody would give a snap for Tom; and there was Willie Earnshaw, whohad every date, from the killing of Abel, on the tip of his tongue, sothat the masters themselves would turn to him if they were in doubt, yethe was but a narrow-chested lad, over long for his breadth; and what didhis dates help him when Jack Simons of the lower third chivied him downthe passage with the buckle end of a strap? But you didn't do thingslike that with Jim Horscroft. What tales we used to whisper about hisstrength! How he put his fist through the oak-panel of thegame-room door; how, when Long Merridew was carrying the ball, he caughtup Merridew, ball and all, and ran swiftly past every opponent to thegoal. It did not seem fit to us that such a one as he should troublehis head about spondees and dactyls, or care to know who signed theMagna Charta. When he said in open class that King Alfred was the man,we little boys all felt that very likely it was so, and that perhaps Jimknew more about it than the man who wrote the book.

  Well, it was this business of the burglar that drew his attention to me;for he patted me on my head, and said that I was a spunky little devil,which blew me out with pride for a week on end. For two years we wereclose friends, for all the gap that the years had made between us, andthough in passion or in want of thought he did many a thing that galledme, yet I loved him like a brother, and wept as much as would havefilled an ink bottle when at last he went off to Edinburgh to study hisfather's profession. Five years after that did I tide at Birtwhistle's,and when I left had become cock myself, for I was wiry and as tough aswhalebone, though I never ran to weight and sinew like my greatpredecessor. It was in Jubilee Year that I left Birtwhistle's, and thenfor three years I stayed at home learning the ways of the cattle; butstill the ships and the armies were wrestling, and still the greatshadow of Bonaparte lay across the country. How could I guess that Itoo should have a hand in lifting that shadow for ever from our people?

  CHAPTER II.

  COUSIN EDIE OF EYEMOUTH.

  Some years before, when I was still but a lad, there had come over to usupon a five weeks' visit the only daughter of my father's brother.Willie Calder had settled at Eyemouth as a maker of fishing nets, and hehad made more out of twine than ever we were like to do out of thewhin-bushes and sand-links of West Inch. So his daughter, Edie Calder,came over with a braw red frock and a five shilling bonnet, and a kistfull of things that brought my dear mother's eyes out like a partan's.It was wonderful to see her so free with money, and she but a slip of agirl, paying the carrier man all that he asked and a whole twopenceover, to which he had no claim. She made no more of drinkingginger-beer than we did of water, and she would have her sugar in hertea and butter with her bread just as if she had been English.

  I took no great stock of girls at that time, for it was hard for me tosee what they had been made for. There were none of us at Birtwhistle'sthat thought very much of them; but the smallest laddies seemed to havethe most sense, for after they began to grow bigger they were not sosure about it. We little ones were all of one mind: that a creaturethat couldn't fight and was aye carrying tales, and couldn't so much asshy a stone without flapping its arm like a rag in the wind, was no usefor anything. And then the airs that they would put on, as if they weremother and father rolled into one; for ever breaking into a game with"Jimmy, your toe's come through your boot," or "Go home, you dirty boy,and clean yourself," until the very sight of them was weariness.

  So when this one came to the steading at West Inch I was not bestpleased to see her. I was twelve at the time (it was in the holidays)and she eleven, a thin, tallish girl with black eyes and the queerestways. She was for ever staring out in front of her with her lipsparted, as if she saw something wonderful; but when I came behind herand looked the same way, I could see nothing but the sheep's trough orthe midden, or father's breeches hanging on a clothes-line. And then ifshe saw a lump of heather or bracken, or any common stuff of that sort,she would mope over it, as if it had struck her sick, and cry,"How sweet! how perfect!" just as though it had been a painted picture.She didn't like games, but I used to make her play "tig" and such like;but it was no fun, for I could always catch her in three jumps, and shecould never catch me, though she would come with as much rustle andflutter as ten boys would make. When I used to tell her that she wasgood for nothing, and that her father was a fool to bring her up likethat, she would begin to cry, and say that I was a rude boy, and thatshe would go home that very night, and never forgive me as long as shelived. But in five minutes she had forgot all about it. What wasstrange was that she liked me a deal better than I did her, and shewould never leave me alone; but she was always watching me and runningafter me, and then saying, "Oh, here you are!" as if it were a surprise.

  But soon I found that there was good in her too. She used sometimes togive me pennies, so that once I had four in my pocket all at the sametime; but the best part of her was the stories that she could tell.She was sore frightened of frogs, so I would bring one to her, and tellher that I would put it down her neck unless she told a story.That always helped her to begin; but when once she was started it waswonderful how she would carry on. And the things that had happened toher, they were enough to take your breath away. There was a Barbaryrover that had been at Eyemouth, and he was coming back in five years ina ship full of gold to make her his wife; and then there was awandering knight who had been there also, and he had given her a ringwhich he said he would redeem when the time came. She showed me thering, which was very like the ones upon my bed curtain; but she saidthat this one was virgin gold. I asked her what the knight would do ifhe met the Barbary rover, and she told me that he would sweep his headfrom his shoulders. What they could all see in her was more than Icould think. And then she told me that she had been followed on her wayto West Inch by a disguised prince. I asked her how she knew it was aprince, and she said by his disguise. Another day she said that herfather was preparing a riddle, and that when it was ready it would beput in the papers, and anyone who guessed it would have half his fortuneand his daughter. I said that I was good at riddles, and that she mustsend it to me when it was ready. She said it would be in the _BerwickGazette_, and wanted to know what I would do with her when I won her. Isaid I would sell her by public roup for what she would fetch; but shewould tell no more stories that evening, for she was very techy aboutsome things.

  Jim Horscroft was away when Cousin Edie was with us, but he came backthe very week she went; and I mind how surprised I was that he shouldask any questions or take any interest in a mere lassie. He asked me ifshe were pretty; and when I said I hadn't noticed, he laughed and calledme a mole, and said my eyes would be opened some day. But very soon hecame to be interested in something else, a
nd I never gave Edie anotherthought until one day she just took my life in her hands and twisted itas I could twist this quill.

  That was in 1813, after I had left school, when I was already eighteenyears of age, with a good forty hairs on my upper lip and every hope ofmore. I had changed since I left school, and was not so keen on gamesas I had been, but found myself instead lying about on the sunny side ofthe braes, with my own lips parted and my eyes staring just the same asCousin Edie's used to do. It had satisfied me and filled my whole lifethat I could run faster and jump higher than my neighbour; but now allthat seemed such a little thing, and I yearned, and yearned, and lookedup at the big arching sky, and down at the flat blue sea, and felt thatthere was something wanting, but could never lay my tongue to what thatsomething was. And I became quick of temper too, for my nerves seemedall of a fret, and when my mother would ask me what ailed me, or myfather would speak of my turning my hand to work, I would break intosuch sharp bitter answers as I have often grieved over since. Ah! a manmay have more than one wife, and more than one child, and more than onefriend; but he can never have but the one mother, so let him cherish herwhile he may.

  One day when I came in from the sheep, there was my father sitting witha letter in his hands, which was a very rare thing with us, except whenthe factor wrote for the rent. Then as I came nearer to him I saw thathe was crying, and I stood staring, for I had always thought that it wasnot a thing that a man could do. I can see him now, for he had so deepa crease across his brown cheek that no tear could pass it, but musttrickle away sideways and so down to his ear, hopping off on to thesheet of paper. My mother sat beside him and stroked his hands like shedid the cat's back when she would soothe it.

  "Aye, Jeannie," said he, "poor Willie's gone. It's from the lawyer, andit was sudden or they'd ha' sent word of it. Carbuncle, he says, and aflush o' blood to the head."

  "Ah! well, his trouble's over," said my mother.

  My father rubbed his ears with the tablecloth.

  "He's left a' his savings to his lassie," said he, "and by gom if she'snot changed from what she promised to be she'll soon gar them flee.You mind what she said of weak tea under this very roof, and it at sevenshillings the pound!"

  My mother shook her head, and looked up at the flitches of bacon thathung from the ceiling.

  "He doesn't say how much, but she'll have enough and to spare, he says.And she's to come and bide with us, for that was his last wish."

  "To pay for her keep!" cried my mother sharply. I was sorry that sheshould have spoken of money at that moment, but then if she had not beensharp we would all have been on the roadside in a twelvemonth.

  "Aye, she'll pay, and she's coming this very day. Jock lad, I'll wantyou to drive to Ayton and meet the evening coach. Your Cousin Edie willbe in it, and you can fetch her over to West Inch."

  And so off I started at quarter past five with Souter Johnnie, thelong-haired fifteen-year-old, and our cart with the new-paintedtail-board that we only used on great days. The coach was in just as Icame, and I, like a foolish country lad, taking no heed to the yearsthat had passed, was looking about among the folk in the Inn front for aslip of a girl with her petticoats just under her knees. And as Islouched past and craned my neck there came a touch to my elbow, andthere was a lady dressed all in black standing by the steps, and I knewthat it was my cousin Edie.

  I knew it, I say, and yet had she not touched me I might have passed hera score of times and never known it. My word, if Jim Horscroft hadasked me then if she were pretty or no, I should have known how toanswer him! She was dark, much darker than is common among our borderlasses, and yet with such a faint blush of pink breaking through herdainty colour, like the deeper flush at the heart of a sulphur rose.Her lips were red, and kindly, and firm; and even then, at the firstglance, I saw that light of mischief and mockery that danced away at theback of her great dark eyes. She took me then and there as though I hadbeen her heritage, put out her hand and plucked me. She was, as I havesaid, in black, dressed in what seemed to me to be a wondrous fashion,with a black veil pushed up from her brow.

  "Ah! Jack," said she, in a mincing English fashion, that she had learnedat the boarding school. "No, no, we are rather old for that"--thisbecause I in my awkward fashion was pushing my foolish brown faceforward to kiss her, as I had done when I saw her last. "Just hurry uplike a good fellow and give a shilling to the conductor, who has beenexceedingly civil to me during the journey."

  I flushed up red to the ears, for I had only a silver fourpenny piecein my pocket. Never had my lack of pence weighed so heavily upon me asjust at that moment. But she read me at a glance, and there in aninstant was a little moleskin purse with a silver clasp thrust into myhand. I paid the man, and would have given it back, but she still wouldhave me keep it.

  "You shall be my factor, Jack," said she, laughing. "Is this ourcarriage? How funny it looks! And where am I to sit?"

  "On the sacking," said I.

  "And how am I to get there?"

  "Put your foot on the hub," said I. "I'll help you."

  I sprang up and took her two little gloved hands in my own. As she cameover the side her breath blew in my face, sweet and warm, and all thatvagueness and unrest seemed in a moment to have been shredded away frommy soul. I felt as if that instant had taken me out from myself, andmade me one of the race. It took but the time of the flicking of thehorse's tail, and yet something had happened, a barrier had gone downsomewhere, and I was leading a wider and a wiser life. I felt it all ina flush, but shy and backward as I was, I could do nothing but flattenout the sacking for her. Her eyes were after the coach which wasrattling away to Berwick, and suddenly she shook her handkerchief in theair.

  "He took off his hat," said she. "I think he must have been an officer.He was very distinguished looking. Perhaps you noticed him--a gentlemanon the outside, very handsome, with a brown overcoat."

  I shook my head, with all my flush of joy changed to foolish resentment.

  "Ah! well, I shall never see him again. Here are all the green braesand the brown winding road just the same as ever. And you, Jack, Idon't see any great change in you either. I hope your manners arebetter than they used to be. You won't try to put any frogs down myback, will you?"

  I crept all over when I thought of such a thing.

  "We'll do all we can to make you happy at West Inch," said I, playingwith the whip.

  "I'm sure it's very kind of you to take a poor lonely girl in," saidshe.

  "It's very kind of you to come, Cousin Edie," I stammered. "You'll findit very dull, I fear."

  "I suppose it is a little quiet, Jack, eh? Not many men about, as Iremember it."

  "There is Major Elliott, up at Corriemuir. He comes down of an evening,a real brave old soldier who had a ball in his knee under Wellington."

  "Ah, when I speak of men. Jack, I don't mean old folk with balls intheir knees. I meant people of our own age that we could make friendsof. By the way, that crabbed old doctor had a son, had he not?"

  "Oh yes, that's Jim Horscroft, my best friend."

  "Is he at home?"

  "No. He'll be home soon. He's still at Edinburgh studying."

  "Ah! then we'll keep each other company until he comes, Jack. And I'mvery tired and I wish I was at West Inch."

  I made old Souter Johnnie cover the ground as he has never done beforeor since, and in an hour she was seated at the supper table, where mymother had laid out not only butter, but a glass dish of gooseberry jam,which sparkled and looked fine in the candle-light. I could see that myparents were as overcome as I was at the difference in her, though notin the same way. My mother was so set back by the feather thing thatshe had round her neck that she called her Miss Calder instead of Edie,until my cousin in her pretty flighty way would lift her forefinger toher whenever she did it. After supper, when she had gone to bed, theycould talk of nothing but her looks and her breeding.

  "By the way, though," says my father, "it does n
ot look as if she wereheart-broke about my brother's death."

  And then for the first time I remembered that she had never said a wordabout the matter since I had met her.