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White Heather (Volume III of 3)

White Heather (Volume III of 3)

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Chapter 1 A MESSAGE.

Word Count: 4081    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

come blowing over the moorland are honey-scented from the heather; and the wide waters of the loc

l with that constant gentleness of expression that seems to bring her into accord with all the beautiful things in the landscape around her. And, indeed, on this particular morning she is cheerful enough; walking briskly, chatting to the ancient terrie

the mail. And indeed it's well for you, my good little chap, that you can't understand how far away Glasgow is; I suppose you expect t

he door of the inn, scat

moarning, Miss D

with his pipe, and his

ys. 'Ay, ay, it is not an unusual thing for a young leddy to

ad to stretch their legs; the letter bags are hauled down, and Miss Douglas follows them

d both from Glasgow? Well, now

news. Such things came but once in a while to this remote hamlet; and when they did come they were leisurely and thoroughly perused-not skimmed and thrown aside. Nevertheless when she got up to the high-road she thought she would pause there for just a second, and run her eye over the pag

put that letter into her pocket, and turned to the other. But now she was indifferent and careless. It was not likely that her sister had anything to say about

ad, and another back towards the inn, as if with a sudden strange fear that some one had overseen. No, she was all alone; with the quickly closed letter in her trembling hand; her brain bewildered; her heart beating; and with a kind

ange all her life for her; and wonder whether, if all things were to go well with him, he would come back and claim her love-that was there awaiting him, and would always await him, whether he ever came back or no. And sometimes, indeed, the morning light brought a joyous assurance with it; she knew well why he had not ventured to hand her th

sweet forg

for happ

he understood herself better-now that her heart had revealed itself plainly to her-surely, if ever that glad time were to come-if ever she were to see him hasten along to the little garden-gate-on the very first moment of hi

nd besotted drunkard, shunning the public ways, hiding in ignoble haunts, with the basest of creatures for his only friends? And she-that had been so proud of him-that had been so assured of his future-nay, that had given him the love of her life, and had sworn to herself that, whether he ever came to claim it or no, no other man should take his place in her heart-she it was who had become possessed of this dreadful secret, while all the others were still imagining that Ronald was as the Ronald of yore. She dared not go back to Inver-Mudal-not yet, at least. She went away along the highway; and then left that for a path that led alongside a small burn; and by and by, when she came to a place where she was screened from all obs

ke further notice. And then it quickly occurred to her that, if this were Lord Ailine who was coming along, perhaps she might appeal to him-she might beg of him to write to Ronald-or even to go to Glasgow-for had not these two been companions and friends? An

uglas,' said he. 'Gathering flower

ind was so agitated that she scarcely knew what she

amma is quite well. There's a haunch of a roe-buck at

eper reprovingly, 'there's B

s,' he said quickly, and t

onald to come from her lips-with perhaps this or that keeper to carry it on to the inn and make it the topic of general wonder there? They would hear of it soon enough. But no one-not

with a consciousness as of guilt weighing upon her. She even did her best to eat something, in order to avoid their r

said with a sigh. 'She has not been looking herself for many a day back;

s for the Docto

a change,

ore subject with her. 'She would have had a change long before now, but f

alth-' the highland Doctor managed to

ces, and eager to make use of them. But no-she would sooner go looking after a lot of cottar's children than set to work to qu

girl at home,' he

s a dozen times before. 'There it is-in black and white-a distinct invitation. "Could

would be a better kind of a change. Sea-ai

uld be ashamed of. Why, the best families in England go to Brighton for the winter-every one is there. It would be worse than sending her to London. And what does this month or six weeks mean?-Surely it is plain enough. They want to try her. They want to see what her accomplish

s well enou

ar as he knew anything about the matter, Wil

man-and if the business is going on as they say it is going, I don't see why they should not leave Queen's Crescent and take a larger house-up by the West End Park. And he is an intelligent man, too; the society they have is clever and intellectual-you saw in Agath

nd he brought the weight of his pro

d Italian lessons, and not a change to an atmosphere like that of Glasgow. Bless my soul, do you think that kind of change will bring back the colour to her cheek

, as a half-educated ignorant Highland peasant girl? So long as

d she not say that there had been timidity, doubt, misapprehension in the past, but that now there was no time for any of these; she had come to claim him and save him and restore him to himself-no matter what he might think of her? Indeed she tried to put all thought of herself out of the matter. She would allow no self-pride to interfere, if only she could be of the smallest aid to him, if she could stretch out her hand to him, and appeal to him, and drag him back. But how? She seemed so helple

et forge

for happ

he was going to try for, with health and happiness radiant in his eyes? And it seemed to her that her sister Agatha had been proud of writing these words, and proud of the underlining of them, and that there was a kind of vengeance in them; and the girl's mouth was shut hard; and she was making vague and fierce resolutions of showing to all of them-far and near-that she was not ashamed of her regar

me from her-he would recognise the postmark, and also her handwriting. And if he took it as a message and an appeal, as a token of good wishes and friendliness, and the hope of better fortune? Or if-and here she fell a-trembling, for it was a little cold in these early hours-if he should take it as a confession, as an unmaidenly declaration? Oh, she did not care. It was

find the smallest bit; and time began to press; for this was the morning for the mail to go south-if she missed it, she would have to wait two more days. And as half-hour after half-hour went by, she became more anxious and nervous and agitated; she went rapidly from knoll to knoll, seeking the likeliest places; and all in vain. It was a question of minutes now. She could hear the mail-cart on the road beh

e her way towards it; and the next moment she was joyfully down on her knees, selecting the whitest spray she could find. And the mail-cart?-it would still be at the inn-the inn was little more than half a mile off-could she run hard and intercept them after all, and send her white-dove message away to

Johnnie!'

owards him; he heard, looked b

or you to take!' she called, tho

to the inn, and astonished Mrs. Murray

ingers wrote the address, 'to come and take this to the

quick-to hand it to the driver, then the girl sank back in the chair and began laughing in a strange, half-hysterical way, and then that became a burst of crying, w

nie. But you will just rest here a while; and Nelly will get you some tea; and there is no need for you to go back home until you have come to yourself better. No, y

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