The Half-Hearted

by John Buchan

  CHAPTER VI

  PASTORAL

  I

  A July morning had dawned over the Dreichill, and the glen was filledwith sunlight, though as yet there seemed no sun. Behind a peak of hillit displayed its chastened morning splendours, but a stray affluence ofbrightness had sought the nooks of valley in all the wide uplands,courier of the great lord of heat and light and the brown summer. Thehouse of Etterick stands high in a crinkle of hill, with a background ofdark pines, and in front a lake, set in shores of rock and heather.When the world grew bright Lewis awoke, for that strange young man had atrick of rising early, and as he rubbed sleep from his eyes at thewindow he saw the exceeding goodliness of the morning. He roused hiscompanions with awful threats, and then wandered along a corridor tillhe came to a low verandah, whence a little pier ran into a sheltered bayof the loch. This was his morning bathing-place, and as he ran down thesurface of rough moorland stone he heard steps behind him, and Georgeplunged into the cold blue waters scarcely a second after his host.

  It was as chill as winter save for the brightness of the morning, whichmade the loch in open spaces a shining gold. As they raced each otherto the far end, now in the dark blue of shade, now in the gold of theopen, the hill breeze fanned their hair, and the great woody smell ofpines was sweet around them. The house stood dark and silent, for theside before them was the men's quarters, and at that season given up tothemselves; but away beyond, the smoke of chimneys curled into the stillair. A man was mowing in some field on the hillside, and the cry ofsheep came from the valley. By and by they reached the shelving coastof fine hill gravel, and as they turned to swim easily back a sleepyfigure staggered down the pier and stumbled rather than plunged into thewater.

  "Hullo!" gasped George, "there's old John. He'll drown, for I bet youanything he isn't awake. Look!"

  But in a second a dark head appeared which shook itself vigorously, anda figure made for the other two with great strokes. He was by so muchthe best swimmer of the three that he had soon reached them, and thoughin all honesty he first swam to the farther shore, yet he touched thepier very little behind them. Then came a rush for the house, and inhalf an hour three fresh-coloured young men came downstairs, whistlingfor breakfast.

  The breakfast-room was a place to refresh a townsman's senses. Long andcool and dark, it was simply Lewis's room, and he preferred to entertainhis friends there instead of wandering among unused dining-rooms. Ithad windows at each end with old-fashioned folding sashes; and the viewon one side was to a great hill shoulder, fir-clad and deep in heather,and on the other to the glen below and the shining links of the Avelin.It was panelled in dark oak, and the furniture was a strange medley.The deep arm-chairs by the fire and the many pipes savoured of thesmoking-room; the guns, rods, polo sticks, whips, which were stacked orhung everywhere, and the heads of deer on the walls, gave it anatmosphere of sport. The pictures were few but good--two water-colours,a small Raeburn above the fireplace, and half a dozen fine etchings. Ina corner were many old school and college groups--the Eton Ramblers, theO.U.A.C., some dining clubs, and one of Lewis on horseback in racingcostume, looking deeply miserable. Low bookcases of black oak ran roundthe walls, and the shelves were crammed with books piled on one another,many in white vellum bindings, which showed pleasantly against the darkwood. Flowers were everywhere--common garden flowers of old-fashionedkinds, for the owner hated exotics, and in a shallow silver bowl in themidst of the snowy table-cloth was a great mass of purple heather-bells.

  Three very hungry young men sat down to their morning meal with a heartygoodwill. The host began to rummage among his correspondence, andfinally extracted an unstamped note, which he opened. His facebrightened as he read, and he laid it down with a broad smile and helpedhimself to fish.

  "Are you people very particular what you do to-day?" he asked.

  Arthur said, No. George explained that he was in the hands of hisbeneficent friend.

  "Because my Aunt Egeria down at Glenavelin has got up some sort of apicnic on the moors, and she wants us to meet her at the sheepfoldsabout twelve."

  "Oh," said George meditatively. "Excellent! I shall be charmed." Buthe looked significantly at Arthur, who returned the glance.

  "Who are at Glenavelin?" asked that simple young man with an air ofinnocence.

  "There's a man called Stocks, whom you probably know."

  Arthur nodded.

  "And there's Bertha Afflint and her sister."

  It was George's turn to nod approvingly. The sharp-witted Miss Afflintwas a great ally of his.

  "And there's a Miss Wishart--Alice Wishart," said Lewis, without a wordof comment. "And with my Aunt Egeria that will be all."

  The pair got the cue, and resolved to subject the Miss Wishart whosename came last on their host's tongue to a friendly criticism.Meanwhile they held their peace on the matter like wise men.

  "What a strange name Egeria is!" said Arthur. "Very," said Lewis; "butyou know the story. My respectable aunt's father had a large family ofgirls, and being of a classical turn of mind he called them after theMuses. The Muses held out for nine, but for the tenth and youngest hefound himself in a difficulty. So he tried another tack and called thechild after the nymph Egeria. It sounds outlandish, but I prefer it toTerpsichore."

  Thereafter they lit pipes, and, with the gravity which is due to a greatsubject, inspected their friend's rods and guns.

  "I see no memorials of your travels, Lewie," said Arthur. "You musthave brought back no end of things, and most people like to stick themround as a remembrance."

  "I have got a roomful if you want to see them," said the traveller; "butI don't see the point of spoiling a moorland place with foreign odds andends. I like homely and native things about me when I am in Scotland."

  "You're a sentimentalist, old man," said his friend; and George, whoheard only the last word, assumed that Arthur had then and theredivulged his suspicions, and favoured that gentleman with a wild frownof disapproval.

  As Lewis sat on the edge of the Etterick burn and looked over theshining spaces of morning, forgetful of his friends, forgetful of hispast, his mind was full of a new turmoil of feeling. Alice Wishart hadbegun to claim a surprising portion of his thoughts. He told himself athousand times that he was not in love--that he should never be in love,being destined for other things; that he liked the girl as he liked anyfresh young creature in the morning of life, with youth's beauty and thegrace of innocence. But insensibly his everyday reflections began to becoloured by her presence. "What would she think of this?" "How thatwould please her!" were sentences spoken often by the tongue of hisfancy. He found charm in her presence after his bachelor solitude; herdemure gravity pleased him; but that he should be led bond-slave bylove--that was a matter he valiantly denied.

  II

  The sheepfolds of Etterick lie in a little fold of glen some two milesfrom the dwelling, where the heathy tableland, known all over the glenas "The Muirs," relieves the monotony of precipitous hills. On this dayit was alert with life. The little paddock was crammed with sheep, andmore stood huddling in the pens. Within was the liveliest scene, forthere a dozen herds sat on clipping-stools each with a struggling ewebetween his knees, and the ground beneath him strewn with creamy foldsof fleece. From a thing like a gallows in a corner huge bags weresuspended which were slowly filling. A cauldron of pitch bubbled over afire, and the smoke rose blue in the hot hill air. Every minute abashful animal was led to be branded with a great E on the left shoulderand then with awkward stumbling let loose to join her nakedfellow-sufferers. Dogs slept in the sun and wagged their tails in therear of the paddock. Small children sat on gates and lent willing feetto drive the flocks. In a corner below a little shed was the clippers'meal of ale and pies, with two glasses of whisky each, laid by under awhite cloth. Meantime from all sides rose the continual crying ofsheep, the intermittent bark of dogs, and the loud broad converse of themen.

  Lewis and his friends jumped a fence, and were greeted heartily in theenclosure. He seemed
to know each herd by name or rather nickname, forhe had a word for all, and they with all freedom grinned _badinage_ back.

  "Where's my stool, Yed?" he cried. "Am I not to have a hand in clippingmy own sheep?"

  An obedient shepherd rose and fetched one of the triangular seats, whileLewis with great ease caught the ewe, pulled her on her back, andproceeded to call for shears. An old pair was found for him, and withmuch dexterity he performed the clipping, taking little longer to thebusiness than the expert herd, and giving the shears a professional wipeon the sacking with which he had prudently defended his clothes.

  From somewhere in the back two boys came forward--the Tam and Jock of aformer day--eager to claim acquaintance. Jock was clearly busy, for hisjacket was off and a very ragged shirt was rolled about two stout brownarms. The "human collie" seemed to be a gentleman of some leisure, forhe was arrayed in what was for him the pink of fashion in dress. Thetwo immediately lay down on the ground beside Lewis exactly in themanner of faithful dogs.

  The men talked cheerfully, mainly on sheep and prices. Now talk wouldtouch on neighbours, and there would be the repetition of some tale orsaying. "There was a man in the glen called Rorison. D'ye mind JockRorison, Sandy?" And Sandy would reply, "Fine I mind Jock," and thenboth would proceed to confidences.

  "Hullo, Tam," said Lewis at last, realizing his henchman's grandeur. "Whythis magnificence of dress?

  "I'm gaun to the Sabbath-school treat this afternoon," said that worthy.

  "And you, Jock-are you going too?"

  "No me! I'm ower auld, and besides, I've cast out wi' the minister."

  "How was that?"

  "Oh, I had been fechtin'," said Jock airily. "It was Andra Laidlaw. Hecalled me ill names, so I yokit on him and bate him too, but I got myface gey sair bashed. The minister met me next day when I was a' blueand yellow, and, says he, 'John Laverlaw, what have ye been daein'?Ye're a bonny sicht for Christian een. How do ye think a face likeyours will look between a pair o' wings in the next warld?' I ken I'm nobonny," added the explanatory Jock; "but ye canna expect a man to tholesiccan language as that."

  Lewis laughed and, being engaged in clipping his third sheep, forgot thedelicacy of his task and let the shears slip. A very ugly little cut onthe animal's neck was the result.

  "Oh, confound it!" cried the penitent amateur. "Look what I've done,Yed. I'll have to rub in some of that stuff of yours and sew on abandage. The files will kill the poor thing if we leave the cut bare inthis infernal heat."

  The old shepherd nodded, and pointed to where the remedies were kept.Jock went for the box, which contained, besides the ointment, some rollsof stout linen and a huge needle and twine. Lewis doctored the wound asbest he could, and then proceeded to lay on the cloth and sew it to thefleece. The ewe grew restless with the heat and the pinching of thecut, and Jock was given the task of holding her head.

  Clearly Lewis was not meant by Providence for a tailor. He madelamentable work with the needle. It slipped and pricked his fingers,while his unfeeling friends jeered and Tam turned great eyes of sympathyupwards from his Sunday garments.

  "Patience, patience, man!" said the old herd. "Ca' cannier and be a weething quieter in your langwidge. There's a wheen leddies comin' up theburn."

  It was too late. Before Lewis understood the purport of the speech LadyManorwater and her party were at the folds, and as he made one finaleffort with the refractory needle a voice in his ear said:

  "Please let me do that, Mr. Haystoun. I've often done it before."

  He looked up and met Alice Wishart's laughing eyes. She stood besidehim and deftly finished the bandage till the ewe was turned off thestool. Then, very warm and red, he turned to find a cool figurelaughing at his condition.

  "I'll have to go and wash my hands, Miss Wishart," he said gravely."You had better come too." And the pair ran down to a deep brown pool inthe burn and cleansed from their fingers the subtle aroma of fleeces.

  "Ugh! my clothes smell like a drover's. That's the worst of being adabbler in most trades. You can never resist the temptation to try yourhand."

  "But, really, your whole manner was most professional, Mr. Haystoun.Your language--"

  "Please, don't," said the penitent; and they returned to the others tofind that once cheerful assembly under a cloud. Every several man therewas nervously afraid of women and worked feverishly as if under somegreat Taskmistress's eye. The result was a superfluity of shear-marksand deep, muffled profanity. Lady Manorwater ran here and there askingquestions and confusing the workers; while Mr. Stocks, in pursuance ofhis democratic sentiments, talked in a stilted fashion to the nearestclipper, who called him "Sir" and seemed vastly ill at ease.

  Lewis restored some cordiality. Under her nephew's influence LadyManorwater became natural and pleasing. Jock was ferreted out of somecorner and, together with the reluctant Tam, brought up forpresentation.

  "Tam," said his patron, "I'll give you your choice. Whether will you goto the Sabbath-school treat, or come with us to a real picnic? Jock iscoming, and I promise you better fun and better things to eat."

  It was no case for hesitation. Tam executed a doglike gambol on theturf, and proceeded to course up the burn ahead of the party, a visionof twinkling bare legs and ill-fitting Sunday clothes. The sedate Jockrolled down his sleeves, rescued a ragged jacket, and stalked in therear.

  III

  Once on the heathy plateau the party scattered. Mr. Stocks caught theunwilling Arthur and treated him to a disquisition on thecharacteristics of the people whose votes he was soon to solicit. Ashis acquaintance with the subject was not phenomenal, the profit to theaggrieved listener was small. George, Lady Manorwater, and the two MissAfflints sought diligently for a camping-ground, which they finallyfound by a clear spring of water on the skirts of a great grey rock.Meanwhile, Alice Wishart and Lewis, having an inordinate love of highplaces, set out for the ridge summit, and reached it to find a windblowing from the far Gled valley and cooling the hot air.

  Alice found a scrap of rock and climbed to the summit, where she satlike a small pixie, surveying a wide landscape and her warm andprostrate companion. Her bright hair and eyes and her entrancing graceof form made the callous Lewis steal many glances upwards from his lowlyseat. The two had become excellent friends, for the man had that honestsimplicity towards women which is the worst basis for love and the bestfor friendship. She felt that at any moment he might call her by someone or other of the endearing expressions used between men. He, for hispart, was fast drifting from friendship to another feeling, but as yethe gave no sign of it, and kept up the brusque, kindly manners of hiscommon life.

  As she looked east and north to the heart of the hill-land, her eyesbrightened, and she rose up and strained on tiptoe to scan the farthesthorizon. Eagerly she asked the name of this giant and that, of thisglint of water--was it loch or burn? Lewis answered without hesitation,as one to whom the country was as well known as his own name.

  By and by her curiosity was satisfied and she slipped back into her oldposture, and with chin on hand gazed into the remote distances. "Andmost of that is yours? Do you know, if I had a land like this I shouldnever leave it again. You, in your ingratitude, will go wandering awayin a year or two, as if any place on earth could be better than this.You are simply 'sinning away your mercies,' as my grandfather used tosay."

  "But what would become of the heroic virtues that you adore?" asked thecynical Lewis. "If men were all home-keepers it would be a prosaicworld."

  "Can you talk of the prosaic and Etterick in the same breath? Besides,it is the old fallacy of man that the domestic excludes the heroic,"said Alice, fighting for the privileges of her sex.

  "But then, you know, there comes a thing they call the go-fever, whichis not amenable to reason. People who have it badly do not care a strawfor a place in itself; all they want is to be eternally moving from onespot to another."

  "And you?"

  "Oh, I am not a sufferer yet, but I walk in fear, for at any moment itmay beset me."
And, laughing, he climbed up beside her.

  It may be true that the last subject of which a man tires is himself,but Lewis Haystoun in this matter must have been distinct from thecommon run of men. Alice had given him excellent opportunities foregotism, but the blind young man had not taken them. The girl, havingbeen brought up to a very simple and natural conception of talk, thoughtno more about it, except that she would have liked so great a travellerto speak more generously. No doubt, after all, this reticence waspreferable to self-revelation. Mr. Stocks had been her companion thatmorning in the drive to Etterick, and he had entertained her with asketch of his future. He had declined, somewhat nervously, to talk ofhis early life, though the girl, with her innate love of a fighter,would have listened with pleasure. But he had sketched his politicalcreed, hinted at the puissance of his friends, claimed a monopoly of thepurer sentiments of life, and rosily augured the future. The girl hadbeen silent--the man had thought her deeply impressed; but now themorning's talk seemed to point a contrast, and Mr. Lewis Haystounclimbed to a higher niche in the temple of her esteem.

  Afar off the others were signaling that lunch was ready, but the two onthe rock were blind.

  "I think you are right to go away," said Alice. "You would be too welloff here. One would become a very idle sort of being almost at once."

  "And I am glad you agree with me, Miss Wishart. 'Here is the shore, andthe far wide world's before me,' as the song says. There is littledoing in these uplands, but there's a vast deal astir up and down theearth, and it would be a pity not to have a hand in it."

  Then he stopped suddenly, for at that moment the light and colour wentout of his picture of the wanderer's life, and he saw instead a homelierscene--a dainty figure moving about the house, sitting at his table'shead, growing old with him in the fellowship of years. For a moment hefelt the charm of the red hearth and the quiet life. Some such sketchmust the Goddess of Home have drawn for Ulysses or the wandering Olaf,and if Swanhild or the true Penelope were as pretty as this lady of therock there was credit in the renunciation. The man forgot the wideworld and thought only of the pin-point of Glenavelin.

  Some such fancy too may have crossed the girl's mind. At any rate shecast one glance at the abstracted Lewis and welcomed a courier from therest of the party. This was no other than the dandified Tam, who hadbeen sent post-haste by George--that true friend having suffered theagonies of starvation and a terrible suspicion as to what rash step hishost might be taking. Plainly the young man had not yet made MissWishart's acquaintance.

  IV

  The sun set in the thick of the dark hills, and a tired and merry partyscrambled down the burnside to the highway. They had long outstayedtheir intention, but care sat lightly there, and Lady Manorwater alonewas vexed by thoughts of a dinner untouched and a respectable householdin confusion. The sweet-scented dusk was soothing to the senses, andthere in the narrow glen, with the wide blue strath and the gleam of theriver below, it was hard to find the link of reality and easy to creditfairyland. Arthur and Miss Wishart had gone on in front and were nowstrayed among boulders. She liked this trim and precise young man,whose courtesy was so grave and elaborate, while he, being a recluse bynature but a humanitarian by profession, was half nervous and halfentranced in her cheerful society. They talked of nothing, their heartsbeing set on the scramble, and when at last they reached the highway andthe farm where the Glenavelin traps had been put up, they foundthemselves a clear ten minutes in advance of the others.

  As they sat on the dyke in the soft cool air Alice spoke casually of theplace. "Where is Etterick?" she asked; and a light on a hillsidefarther up the glen was pointed out to her.

  "It's a very fresh and pleasant place to stay at," said Arthur. "We'remuch higher than you are at Glenavelin, and the house is bigger andolder. But we simply camp in a corner of it. You can never get Lewieto live like other people. He is the best of men, but his tastes areprimeval. He makes us plunge off a verandah into a loch first thing inthe morning, you know, and I shall certainly drown some day, for I amnever more than half awake, and I always seem to go straight to thebottom. Then he is crazy about long expeditions, and when the Twelfthcomes we shall never be off the hill. He is a long way too active forthese slack modern days."

  Lewie, Lewie! It was Lewie everywhere! thought the girl. What couldbecome of a man who was so hedged about by admirers? He had seemed tocourt her presence, and her heart had begun to beat faster of late whenshe saw his face. She dared not confess to herself that she was inlove--that she wanted this Lewis to herself, and bated the pretensions ofhis friends. Instead she flattered herself with a fiction. Her groundwas the high one of an interest in character. She liked the young manand was sorry to see him in a way to be spoiled by too much admiration.And the angel who records our innermost thoughts smiled to himself, ifsuch grave beings can smile.

  Meantime Lewis was delivered bound and captive to the enemy. All downthe burn his companion had been Mr. Stocks, and they had lagged behindthe others. That gentleman had not enjoyed the day; he had been boredby the landscape and scorched by the sun; also, as the time of contestapproached, he was full of political talk, and he had found no ears toappreciate it. Now he had seized on Lewis, and the younger man had lenthim polite attention though inwardly full of ravening and bitterness.

  "Your friend Mr. Mordaunt has promised to support my candidature. You,of course, will be in the opposite camp."

  Lewis said he did not think so--that he had lost interest in partypolitics, and would lie low.

  Mr. Stocks bowed in acquiescence.

  "And what do you think of my chances?"

  Lewis replied that he should think about equal betting. "You see theplace is Radical in the main, with the mills at Gledfoot and the weaversat Gledsmuir. Up in Glenavelin they are more or less Conservative.Merkland gets in usually by a small majority because he is a local manand has a good deal of property down the Gled. If two strangers foughtit the Radical would win; as it is it is pretty much of a toss-up eitherway."

  "But if Sir Robert resigns?"

  "Oh, that scare has been raised every time by the other party. I shouldsay that there's no doubt that the old man will keep on for years."

  Mr. Stocks looked relieved. "I heard of his resignation as acertainty, and I was afraid that a stronger man might take his place."

  So it fell out that the day which began with pastoral closed, like manyanother day, with politics. Since Lewis refrained from controversy, Mr.Stocks seemed to look upon him as a Gallio from whom no danger need befeared, nay, even as a convert to be fostered. He became confident andtalked jocularly of the tricks of his trade. Lewis's boredom wascomplete by the time they reached the farmhouse and found the Glenavelinparty ready to start.

  "We want to see Etterick, so we shall come to lunch to-morrow, Lewie,"said his aunt. "So be prepared, my dear, and be on your bestbehaviour."

  Then, with his two friends, he turned towards the lights of his home.