by John Buchan
CHAPTER VII.
A DAUGHTER OF HERODIAS.
The days at Lindean dragged past, and the last traces of summer began todisappear from the face of the hills. The bent grew browner, the trees moreragged, and the torrent below more turgid and boisterous. Yet no word camefrom the hills, and, sooth to tell, we almost ceased to look for it. 'Twasnot that we had forgotten the minister and Master Semple in their hiding,for the thought of them was often at hand to sadden me, and Anne, I mustsuppose, had many anxious meditations; but our life at Lindean was sopeaceful and removed from any hint of violence that danger did not comebefore our minds in terrible colors. When the rain beat at night on thewindow, and the wind howled round the house, then our hearts would smite usfor living in comfort when our friends were suffering the furious weather.But when the glorious sun-lit morning had come, and we looked over thelandscape, scarce free from the magic of dawn, then we counted it nohardship to be on the hills. And rain came so seldom during that time, andthe sun so often, that the rigor of the hill-life did not appal us.
This may account for the way in which the exiles slipped from our memoriesfor the greater part of the day. For myself I say nothing--'twas butnatural; but from Anne I must confess that I expected a greater show ofsorrow. To look at her you would say that she was burdened with an oldgrief, so serious was her face; but when she would talk, then you might seehow little her heart was taken up with the troubles of her house and thecare for her father and lover. The girl to me was a puzzle, which I gave upall attempting to solve. When I had first come to Lindean, lo! she wasdemure and full of filial affection, and tender to her lover. Now, when Iexpected to find her sorrowful and tearful at all times, I found her quietindeed, but instinct with a passion for beauty and pleasure and all thejoys of life. Yet ever and anon she would take a fit of solemnity, and musewith her chin poised on her hand; and I doubt not that at such times shewas thinking of her father and her lover in their manifold perils.
One day the rain came again and made the turf plashy and sodden, and setthe Lin roaring in his gorge. I had beguiled the morning by showing Annethe steps of dancing, and she had proved herself a ready pupil. To pleasureher I danced the sword-dance, which can only be done by those who havegreat dexterity of motion; and I think I may say that I acquitted myselfwell. The girl stood by in wonderment, looking at me with a pleasingmixture of surprise and delight. She had begun to look strangely at me oflate. Every now and then when I lifted my head I would find her great eyesresting on me, and at my first glance she would withdraw them. They werestrange eyes--a mingling of the fawn and the tiger.
As I have said, in a little time she had acquired some considerable skill,and moved as gracefully as though she had learned it from her childhood,while I whistled bars of an old dancing tune. She had a little maid whoattended her,--Eff she called her,--and the girl stood by to watch whileAnne did my bidding. Then when we were all wearied of the sport, I fell tothinking of some other play, and could find none. 'Twas as dull asditch-water, till the child Eff, by a good chance, spoke of fishing. Shecould get her father's rod and hooks, she said, for he never used them now;and I might try my luck in the Lin Water. There were good trout there, itseemed, and the choice time of taking them was in the autumn floods.
Now I have ever been something of a fisherman, for many an hour have Ispent by the big fish pond at Rohaine. So I got the tackle of Eff'sfather--rude enough it was in all conscience--and in the early afternoon Iset out to the sport. Below the house and beyond the wood the Lin foams ina deep gully, falling over horrid cascades into great churning pools, ordiving beneath the narrow rocks. But above the ravine there is a suddenchange. The stream flows equably through a flat moor in sedgy deeps andbright shimmering streams. Thither I purposed to go, for I am no lover ofthe awesome black caldrons, which call to a man's mind visions of drownedbodies and pits which have no ending. On the moor with the wind blowingabout one 'twas a pleasure to be, but faugh! no multitude of fish was worthan hour in that dismal chasm.
I had not great success, and little wonder, for my leisurely ways were illsuited for the alert mountain fish. My time was spent in meditating on manythings, but most of all on the strange case in which I found myself. For intruth my position was an odd one as ever man was in.
Here was I bound by my word of honor to bide in the house and protect itsinmates till that indefinite time when its master might return. There wasno fear of money, for the minister had come of a good stock, and had moregear than is usual with one of his class. But 'twas an evil thing to lookforward to--to spend my days in a lonely manse, and wait the end of apersecution which showed no signs of ending.
But the mere discomfort was nothing had it not been for two delicatescruples which came to torment me. _Imprimis_, 'twas more than any man ofhonor could do to dwell in warmth and plenty, while his entertainers werelanguishing for lack of food or shivering with cold in the hags and holesof the mountains. I am a man tolerably hardened by war and travel, yet Icould never abide to lie in bed on a stormy night or to eat my food of asharp morning when I thought of the old man dying, it might be, unshelteredand forlorn. _Item_, there was the matter of the girl; and I cannot tellhow heavy the task had come to lie on my shoulders. I had taken the trustof one whom I thought to be a staid country lass, and lo! I had found heras full of human passion as any lady of the court. 'Twas like some groomwho offers to break a horse, and finds it too stiff in temper. I hadstriven to do my duty toward her and make her life less wearisome, and Ihad succeeded all too well. For I marked that in the days just past she hadcome to regard me with eyes too kindly by half. When I caught her unawares,and saw the curious look on her face, I could have bitten my tongue outwith regret, for I saw the chasm to whose brink I had led her. I will takemy oath there was no thought of guile in the maid, for she was as innocentas a child; but 'tis such who are oftentimes the very devil, since theirinexperience adds an edge to their folly.
Thinking such thoughts, I fished up the Lin Water till the afternoon wasall but past, and the sunset began to glimmer in the bog-pools. My mind wasa whirl of emotions, and no plan or order could I conceive. But--and thisone thing I have often marked, that the weather curiously affected mytemper--the soft evening light brought with it a calm which eased me in theconflict. 'Tis hard to wrangle in spirit when the west is a flare ofcrimson, and later when each blue hill stands out sharp against the yellowsky. My way led through the great pine wood above the Lin gorge, thenceover a short spit of heath to the hill path and the ordered shrubbery ofthe manse. 'Twas fine to see the tree stems stand out red against thegathering darkness, while their thick ever-green heads were blazing likeflambeaux. A startled owl drove past, wavering among the trunks. The airwas so still that the light and color seemed all but audible, and indeedthe distant rumble of the falling stream seemed the interpretation to theears of the vision which the eyes beheld. I love such sights, and 'tisrarely enough that we see them in France, for it takes a stormy uplandcountry to show to its full the sinking of the sun. The heath with its deadheather, when I came on it, seemed alight, as happens in March, so I haveheard, when the shepherds burn the mountain grass. But in the manse gardenwas the choicest sight, for there the fading light seemed drawn to a pointand blazing on the low bushes and coarse lawns. Each window in the houseglowed like a jewel, but--mark the wonder--when I gazed over the countrythere was no view to be seen, but only a slowly creeping darkness.
'Twas an eerie sight, and beautiful beyond telling. It awed me, and yetfilled me with a great desire to see it to the full. So I did not enter thehouse, but turned my steps round by the back to gain the higher ground, forthe manse was built on a slope. I loitered past the side window, andgained the place I had chosen; but I did not bide long, for soon the showwas gone, and only a chill autumn dusk left behind. So I made to enter thehouse, when I noticed a light as of firelight dancing in the back window.Now, I had never been in that room before, so what must I do in my idlecuriosity but go peeping there.
The room was wide and
unfurnished, with a fire blazing on the hearth. Butwhat held me amazed were the figures on the floor. Anne, with her skirtskilted, stood erect and agile as if about to dance. The girl Eff sat by thefireplace, humming some light measure. The ruddy light bathed the floorand walls and made all distinct as noonday.
'Twas as I had guessed. In a trice her feet began to move, and soon she wasin the middle of the first dance I had taught her, while _la petite_ Effsang the tune in her clear, low voice. I have seen many dancers, greatladies and country dames, village lasses and burgher wives, gypsies andwantons, but, by my honor, I never saw one dance like Anne. Her body movedas if by one impulse with her feet. Now she would bend like a willow, andnow whirl like the leaves of the wood in an autumn gale. She was dressed,as was her wont, in sober brown, but sackcloth could not have concealedthe grace of her form. The firelight danced and leaped in her hair, for herface was turned from me; and 'twas fine to see the snow of her neckislanded among the waves of brown tresses. With a sudden swift dart sheturned her face to the window, and had I not been well screened by theshadows, I fear I should have been observed. But such a sight as her face Inever hope to see again. The solemnity was gone, and 'twas all radiant withyouth and life. Her eyes shone like twin stars, the even brown of hercheeks was flushed with firelight, and her throat and bosom heaved withthe excitement of the dance. Then she stopped exhausted, smiled on Eff, whosat like a cinder-witch all the while, and smoothed the hair from her brow.
"Have I done it well?" she asked.
"As weel as he did it himsel'," the child answered. "Eh, but you twae wouldmake a bonny pair."
I turned away abruptly and crept back to the garden path, my heart sinkingwithin me, and a feeling of guilt in my soul. I was angry at myself foreavesdropping, angry and ashamed. But a great dread came on me as I thoughtof the girl, this firebrand, who had been trusted to my keeping. Lackadayfor the peace of mind of a man who has to see to a maid who could dance inthis fashion, with her father and lover in the cold hills! And always Icalled to mind that I had been her teacher, and that my lessons, begun as aharmless sport to pass the time, were like to breed an overmasteringpassion. _Mon Dieu!_ I was like the man in the Eastern tale who had raiseda spirit which he was powerless to control.
And just then, as if to point my meditations, I heard the cry of a ploverfrom the moor behind, and a plaff of the chill night-wind blew in my face.