Читать книгу A Princess in Tatters - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 7

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“And why will you haf come all the way from London to paint Loch Ruel?” asked Eilidh.

Raby had set up his easel on the shore, on the lower side of the tree-covered point which shut out the upper reaches of the loch. Eilidh was sitting on the stones, her eyes fixed on the smooth stretch of water and the distant hills. Behind her was a bank of black rock, gay with ferns and tufts of heather and swinging bluebells, while at her feet a burn ran down to the loch. The six scarlet babies were playing on the shore some distance away in charge of a small girl from one of the farms in Glenaroon, who watched their every movement, and drove them back if they came within ten yards of the burn.

“Ah, that needs some explaining. Suppose we wait till I’ve made a good beginning. Then you shall rest, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Eilidh sat motionless, and her face grew wistful with longing, as it always did when she was thinking deeply. He nodded, well satisfied, and worked away rapidly. Her eyes wandered over the scene, and one thing after another caught her notice. She watched a boat steal out across the loch, then gazed at the sea-gulls and curlews wading in the shallows. The morning steamer crept up to the pier and lay there for a moment, then turned and crept out of the loch again in a wide curve, leaving two long trails of smoke across the face of the hills.

“Hello!” said Raby, as the splash of waves ran along the shore, and the water rushed up almost to his stool. “What’s up? A sudden storm?”

“No,” laughed Eilidh, “only the steamer leaving the pier. And here comes the coach for Glenaroon.”

“Why is there only one pier on the loch, Eilidh? That upper stretch, where it opens out again beyond this point, is perfect, and you don’t see it at all from the steamer. Why don’t the boats go right up to the head of the loch?”

Eilidh laughed. “I woult be sorry for them if they did. Hafn’t you seen it at low tide? Then shust climb up the bank here and look.”

“Not just now. Later on,” he said, and worked busily.

“You see,” he began at last, “I have three sisters, Eilidh.”

“Yess?” she said, looking surprised.

“I’ll tell you about them. The eldest is Isabel, and she is only a step-sister. Know what that is?”

Eilidh shook her head, looking deeply interested.

“Her father was our father, but her mother wasn’t ours, and she takes after her mother. She’s older than the rest of us, and always looked down on us, and showed it. She was never very fond of us at all. Two years ago she married a millionaire—that’s a very, very rich man, Eilidh. He’s a Scotsman like yourself, called Munro.”—Eilidh turned to him with startled eyes, but he was painting steadily, and did not notice.—“Then my father died and left me the two younger girls—my own sisters—to look after. The younger is Rosamond, and she’s only twenty—quite a child still,” he laughed. “She was married a month ago to Captain Grant, who’s very well off now, and going to be more so, some day. They’re off to France and Italy for their honeymoon.

“Well, before their marriage we were talking one day, and I told Rosamond I’d paint her a picture as a wedding-present, if she’d say what kind of picture she’d like. She said she’d like something with hills and water in it, and then she asked me to come here and paint your loch, for a friend had said to her, ‘You coax him up to Scotland and make him paint Loch Ruel. He couldn’t choose anything finer,’ Therefore, you see,——”

“I see. It iss a present for your sister.”

“Yes. She’ll like it. Now we’ll have a rest. By the way, have you heard the name of your lord yet?”

“Yes,” said Eilidh reddening.

“They are the Averys, I suppose?”

“How effer did you know? Was Mrs. M’Culloch at the inn telling you?”

“No. I guessed.”

“You must be cleffer!”

He laughed and rose to his feet. “Let’s have a walk. What was I to look at? Oh, the upper loch! Show me the best way up the rocks, Eilidh. Guard my things, Sambo!”

“This iss how I will go,” and she went up the rocks like a squirrel up a tree.

He followed laughing, and they stood together among the trees at the end of the point.

“You see,” said Eilidh eagerly, “if a steamer came up there——”

“By Jove, yes! I didn’t know. You wouldn’t believe it at high tide.”

The waves had withdrawn from the belt of trees and shingle that encircled the head of the loch, leaving wide stretches of sand. Behind the trees the hills fell away in a great crowded ring—the distant peaks blue, the nearer ones green and brown and purple—and between them lay a wooded plain, through which ran the road to Glenaroon. The little salmon river ran down through the woods to the shore, and then, losing its course, spread through the shingle and over the sand and found the loch at last.

The birds had collected in crowds on the sands, and were gravely promenading, singly, in pairs, in small flocks—gulls, curlews, crows, wild ducks—all intent on early dinner. The air was full of their shrill cries and screams, but distance softened their harshness and the noise came pleasantly across the water.

Raby whistled. “If a boat came up at high tide without a pilot, and her captain didn’t know the loch, she’d stick fast on those mud-banks. Has it ever happened?”

“No, but I will always be thinking it iss going to some day. Three miles the tide will run out, they say. But no boats come, you see, but the steamers to the pier, and sometimes a fishing-boat. An’ it iss not mud-banks either—mostly. It iss ferry good sand.”

“I shall be careful when I come yachting up here,” he laughed. “Come, let’s get back to our work.”

Eilidh was the first to reach the other side of the point.

“Oh, look! look!” she screamed. “Just look! Oh, did you effer see anything so pretty?”

A great white yacht was creeping up the loch. Her funnel was yellow, her small boats were white, she was gaily decked with flags. Raby whistled again in astonishment, and Eilidh gazed in eager delight.

“What iss it? What kind of boat, Mr. Raby? It iss higher than the steamer, an’ it hass no paddles. I haf neffer seen one shust like it. Oh, issn’t it pretty?”

Raby scrambled down the rocks and crossed the shingle to the water’s edge. The great yacht came steadily on, and Eilidh cried,

“It issn’t going up past the point to be wrecked on the sands, surely! Oh, we must stop it! There issn’t water enough for such a ferry big boat.”

“She’s not going any farther,” said Raby, and just then the yacht came to a stand, and the anchor rattled down.

From the funnel came a shrill “toot!” A boat slid down, and presently came speeding across the water.

“It iss coming here!” gasped Eilidh. “Oh, shust think! It iss coming to us!”

“Rosamond, by all that’s wonderful!” said Raby. “I thought they were in Italy. What on earth will that girl do next?”

Eilidh’s shyness overcame her suddenly. In a moment she was up the bank and hidden among the bracken. From her corner she watched the boat draw in to the shore. The two sailor-boys—white-clad and wearing big straw hats—rowed together in perfect time. Four white oars dipped and rose and flashed in the sun at the same moment.

In the stern sat a tall man in navy blue, and a girl in a blue yachting costume. The man was very brown, and lay back lazily in his seat. The girl was—oh, so pretty! thought Eilidh—with dark eyes and hair, and an eager laughing face. She leaned over the side and waved her hand to Raby, who met them at the water’s edge.

“Well, young people? What is the meaning of this? I thought you were in Venice. Whatever brings you here?”

“We stood it as long as we could, and then we really had to have a change of company,” Rosamond explained, as her husband helped her ashore. “At the end of three weeks we were thoroughly tired of one another, so we came home to look some of you up.”

“As a matter of fact,” said Captain Archie gravely, “we found Italy too crowded—couldn’t get away from friends—met someone we knew at every hotel. Rose didn’t like it. She wanted a quiet corner to mope in; she’s been dreadfully low-spirited. So she insisted on my taking her to some more lonely spot. I thought perhaps dad’s yacht, and a Highland loch, and only sea-gulls and herrings for company, might cheer her up. So here we are.”

“You know, Bernard,” said Rosamond, turning her back on him; “the truth is, he wanted an excuse for two holidays instead of one, so after I’d put up with him for all that time in the hope that it would soon be over and we’d be able to settle down, he dragged me off here for another holiday, and ever so much more of his teasing and nonsense.”

“No, it was this way, Raby. She wasn’t looking well—it was awfully hot down there—and I thought a cruise in more bracing air would do her good. I couldn’t begin my married life with a sick wife, could I now?”

“Really and truly, he wanted some fishing, and it had nothing to do with me at all. I just had to come along. He takes me about like he does his portmanteau——”

“My dear! I leave my portmanteau with the porter. Did I ever——”

“I’ve come to see how my wedding-present is getting on, Bernard,” Rosamond laughed. “Lady Avery was right, wasn’t she? You couldn’t have a much finer subject. Are you making progress?”

She stepped daintily across the shingle to the easel, and Raby laughed.

“O-o-oh! Why, Bernard! What a lovely child! Is she real? Where did you find her? Is this picture for me?”

“No, my dear, it’s for the Academy. It’s going to make my fortune. That’s Eilidh. Yes, she’s a beauty, but she doesn’t know. Don’t tell her! I made friends with her yesterday. That’s an awfully rough sketch yet, of course, but it just gives you an idea, I think. She was here when you came, but she’s as wild as a baby rabbit, and just as quick in getting away. You must see her. I’ll try to catch her for you, but she’s very shy.”

“What did you call her?”

“Eilidh. It means Helen, I believe. Gaelic, my dear. We all speak Gaelic here. The babies don’t speak English. See them playing on the shore over there? All those red spots are babies. All one family, too. There’s Jock, and Tam, and Aggie, and Maggie, and Jimmy, and Alexander, and the cat is Sandy. I know all about them. I’ll introduce you——”

“No, thanks!” said Captain Archie hurriedly.

“I think another day will do,” Rosamond laughed, and sat down on a rock. “How nice it is up here!”

“How long are you going to stay? And what exactly are you doing here?”

“Why, we’ve told you!”

“And which of your many explanations——”

“You see,” Rosamond said confidentially, “it’s this way. We thought—that is, Archie thought—well, perhaps we both did—that it would be nice to have a cruise among the lochs. It was hot and crowded on the Continent. So we asked Archie’s father to lend us his yacht, and, of course, he was delighted. We begged him to think of an excuse for a three or four weeks’ cruise—you see, I’m being quite frank this time—and he said he’d been thinking of building a house somewhere on the Firth here, and we might try to find a suitable spot. And he did say something nice about letting us have the house next year if it was finished, so, you see, we really have most important business here. It’s only right we should choose the site for our own house. We’ve only just arrived, and we’re going to sail up every loch and into every corner till we find a perfect place. It is really lovely here! I don’t believe anywhere could beat this. It’s all so quiet and peaceful, and yet quite wild and lonely. Don’t you think, perhaps——?” and she looked at her husband with raised eyebrows.

“Not a bit of it!” he said firmly. “It wouldn’t do at all.”

“Oh! Why not?” she pouted.

“No place will do till we’ve seen all the others. Do you think I’m ready to go back to London yet?”

“Oh, well!—Neither am I,” she laughed. “We won’t make up our minds in a hurry, of course, but it is beautiful here. I hope you are painting my picture, Bernard?”

“I began it yesterday, but Miss Eilidh peeped over my shoulder and drove it out of my head.”

“Don’t forget it altogether. I want it badly. Are there good places for picnics here, Bernard?”

“I should imagine so, but I really haven’t had time to explore yet. At the head of the loch, Glenaroon runs away up among the hills. I should think it was just made for picnics.”

“Then we’ll have one to-morrow. Archie and I will invite you—and Eilidh! We’ll go off to-day and find the very best place. Archie, let’s start at once! Ever since we came into the loch, I’ve been longing to get away up among the hills.”

“My dear girl, it’s almost lunch-time, and I’m hungry,” remonstrated the captain. “You wouldn’t ask me to go without any lunch, surely?”

Rosamond sighed. “Not I. I know you too well by this time. Then we’ll go on board at once, and you shall have your lunch, and we’ll start directly after. We’d have had to fetch our bicycles anyway. Will you come, Bernard?”

“No, my dear. I’m not on my honeymoon. If you’re to have the pleasure of my company to-morrow, I really must work to-day. Good-bye! Don’t lose yourselves up in Glenaroon.”

The white boat sped away to the yacht, and Raby went back to his easel.

“Come along, Eilidh! I can see you hiding there. It’s quite safe now. There’s really no danger, I assure you.”

She came reluctantly down the rocks and seated herself as he had arranged, half ashamed and wholly distrustful, ready for instant flight if the strangers showed signs of returning.

“What a silly girl you are!” Raby said severely. “Did you think they’d eat you?”

“I ton’t like people I ton’t know.”

“Evidently! It’s very silly.”

Eilidh sat gloomily silent, unable to justify her conduct by explaining her feelings, and Raby painted on steadily, trying to maintain a severely displeased air. She glanced at him occasionally, but he showed no sign of relenting, and did not break the silence. At last she sighed deeply.

“It issn’t ferry cheerful. I shust wish Sandy was here, t’at I do!” she murmured plaintively. “I think I shall fetch him. Or Lizzie could bring the babies an’ I could talk to them. I shall tell them all to come this afternoon.”

Raby’s eyes twinkled, and he surrendered hastily.

“Eilidh, you’ve seen the dear little baby rabbits up the road?”

“Oh, yess!” she said, brightening at once—“effer so often.”

“Never caught one, I suppose?”

“Oh, yess, I haf! Many a time.”

“H’m! Well, they run away whenever I go near them.”

“I ton’t wonder, if you are looking cross.”

He regarded her seriously. “Now you’re getting cheeky. I didn’t think you knew how. Well, Eilidh, the rabbits are very silly, for I wouldn’t dream of hurting them. I just want to look at them and stroke them and be good to them, but they run away so quickly that I can only see their little white tails.”

She nodded. “They are afrait of you.”

“You’re a regular baby rabbit yourself, you know.”

“It iss a ferry nice thing to be,” she said calmly. “They are ferry pretty an’ ferry soft, an’ warm an’ funny, an’ shust nice to kiss and hug.”

She sat silent again, the hungry look in her eyes once more, and Raby worked hard, wondering what she was thinking of now.

“Nobody hass effer kissed me and loved me like I do the baby rabbits!” she broke out at last. “At the farm there are so many babies there iss neffer room for me. It iss the thing I want most of all, I think—to haf somebody ferry, ferry fond of me. An’ I ton’t see how I am effer to haf it.”

Raby was silent in his turn, for he did not see how he could satisfy this craving.

“How did you like my sister?” he asked at last.

“She iss ferry pretty!”

“Could you hear all we said?”

“Oh, yess! But it was hard to understand. You talk the English so quick, an’ it issn’t easy. Why does she laugh so much?”

“I suppose because she’s having a good time.”

“I ton’t like people who laugh too much,” Eilidh said thoughtfully.

“You’d like Mollie—my other sister, you know. She’s older than Rosamond, and has a lot more sense. She teaches little girls in a school.”

“What, little girls like me?”

Raby glanced at the ragged little figure, with the bare arms and legs and tumbled hair, and smiled.

“Yes, little girls like you. They are very fond of her, I believe, but they give her a lot of trouble. Just now she’s visiting friends and having a rest. I shall bring her up here some day if I can. She’d like it. She’s a real good sort, is Mollie.”

“I woult like to see her!” Eilidh said wistfully. “We neffer see anybody new here.” She grew suddenly sober at thought of the morning’s encounter.

“When you do see them you run away!”

“But I like to see them, if they ton’t speak to me.”

“Baby rabbit!” said he, and went on with his painting.