Читать книгу Shenac's Work at Home - Margaret M. Robertson - Страница 5

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I am glad to say that Shenac did not let the sun go down on her wrath. Indeed, long before sunset she was heartily ashamed of her outbreak towards Angus Dhu, and acknowledged as much to Hamish. Not that she believed he had acted justly and kindly in his past dealings with her father; nor was she satisfied that the future interests of the family would be safe in his hands. Even while acknowledging how wrong and foolish she had been in speaking as she had done, she declared to Hamish that Angus Dhu should neither “make nor meddle” in their affairs. They must cling together, and do the best they could, till Allister should come home, whatever Angus Dhu might say.

That her mother might yield to persuasion on this point, she thought possible; for the widow had lost courage, and saw only the darker side of their affairs. But Shenac stoutly declared that day to Hamish that no one should be suffered to persuade her mother to the breaking of her heart. No one had a right to interfere in their affairs further than should be welcome to them all. For her part, she was not afraid of Angus Dhu, nor of Elder McMillan, nor of any one else, when it came to the question of breaking up their home and sending them, one here and another there, away from the mother.

Shenac felt very strong and brave as she said all this to Hamish; and yet when, as it was growing dark that night, she saw Elder McMillan opening their gate, her first impulse was to run away. She did not, however, but said to herself, “Now is the time to stand by my mother, and help her to resist the elder’s efforts to get little Hugh away from us.” Besides, she could not go away without being seen, and it would look cowardly; so she placed herself behind the little wheel which the mother had left for a moment, and when the elder came in she was as busy and as quiet as (in his frequently-expressed opinion) it was the bounden duty of all young women to be.

Now, there was nothing in the whole round of Shenac’s duties so distasteful to her as spinning on the little wheel. The constant and unexciting employment for hands and mind that spinning afforded, and perhaps the pleasant monotony of the familiar humming of the wheel, always exerted a soothing influence on the mother; and one of the first things that had given them hope of her recovery after the shock of the burning of the house was her voluntary bringing out of the wheel. But it was very different with Shenac. The strength and energy so invaluable to her in her household work or her work in the fields were of no avail to her here. To sit following patiently and constantly the gradual forming and twisting of the thread, did not suit her as it did her mother; and watchful and excited as she was that night, she could hardly sit quiet while the elder went through his usual salutations to her mother and the rest.

He was in no haste to make known his errand, if he had one, and he was in no haste to go. He spoke in slow, unwilling sentences, as he had done many times before, of the mysterious dealings of Providence with the family, making long pauses between. And through his talk and his silence the widow sat shedding a few quiet tears in the dark, and now and then uttering a word of reply.

What was the good of it all Shenac would have liked to shake him, and to bid him “say his say” and go; but the elder seemed to have no say, at least concerning Hugh. He went slowly through his accustomed round of condolence with her mother and advice to the boys and Shenac, and, as he rose to go, added something about a bee which some of the neighbours had been planning to help the widow with the ploughing and sowing of her land, and then he went away.

“Some of the neighbours,” repeated Shenac in a whisper to her brother. “That’s the elder’s way of heaping coals on my head—good man!”

“What do you suppose the elder cares about a girl like you, or Angus Dhu either?” asked Hamish with a shrug.

Shenac laughed, but had no time to answer.

“I was afraid it might be about wee Hughie that the elder wanted to speak,” said the mother with a sigh of relief as she came in from the door, where she had bidden the visitor good-night.

“And what about Hughie?” asked Shenac, resuming her spinning. She knew very well what about him; but her mother had not told her, and this was as good a way as any to begin about their plans for the summer.

Instead of answering her question, the mother said, after a moment’s silence—

“He’s a good man, Elder McMillan.”

“Oh yes, I daresay he’s a good man,” said Shenac with some sharpness; “but that’s no reason why he should want to have our Hughie.”

The little boys were all in bed by this time, and Hamish and Shenac were alone with their mother. After a little impatient twitching of her thread, Shenac put aside her wheel, swept up the hearth, and moved about putting things in order in the room, and then she came and sat down beside her mother. She did not speak, however; she did not know what to say. Any allusion to the summer’s work was almost surer to make her mother shed tears, and Shenac could not bear to grieve her. She darted an impatient glance at Hamish, who seemed to have no intention of helping her to-night. He was sitting with his face upon his hands, just as he had been sitting through the elder’s visit, and Shenac could not catch his eye. It seemed wrong to risk the bringing on of a wakeful, moaning, miserable night to her mother; and she was thinking she would say no more till morning, when her mother spoke again.

“Yes, Elder McMillan is a good man. I would not be afraid for Hugh, and he would be near at hand.”

“Yes,” said Shenac, making an effort to speak quietly, “if Hugh must go, he might as well go to Elder McMillan’s as anywhere—” She stopped.

“And Dan needs a firm hand, they say,” continued the mother, her voice breaking a little; “but I’m afraid for him. Angus Dhu is a stern man, and Dan has been used to a hand gentle as well as firm. But he would not be far away.”

Shenac broke out impatiently—

“Angus Dhu’s hand was not firm enough to keep his own son at home, and he could never guide our Dan. Mother, never heed them that tell you any ill of Dan. Has he ever disobeyed you once since—since then?” Shenac’s voice failed a little, then she went on again, “Why should Dan go away, or any of us? Why can’t we bide all together, and do the best we can, till Allister comes home?”

“But that must be a long time yet, if he ever comes,” said the mother, sighing.

“Yes, it may be long,” said Shenac eagerly. “Of course it cannot be for the spring work, and maybe not for the harvest, but he’s sure to come, mother; and think of Allister coming and finding no home! Yes, I know you are to bide here; but the land would be gone, and it would be no home long to Allister or any of us without the land. Angus Dhu should be content with what he’s got,” continued Shenac bitterly. “Allister will never be content to let my father’s land go out of our hands; and Angus Dhu promised my father to give it up to Allister. Mother, we must do nothing till Allister comes home.—Hamish, why don’t you tell my mother to wait till Allister comes home?”

“Till Allister comes home! When Allister comes home!” This had been the burden of all Shenac’s comforting to her mother, even when she could take no comfort from it herself. For a year seemed a long time to Shenac; but three months of the year had passed already, and surely, surely Allister would come.

Hamish raised his face as Shenac appealed to him, but it was anything but a hopeful face, and Shenac was glad that her mother was looking the other way.

“But what are we to do in the meantime?” he asked, and his voice was as little hopeful as his face. For a moment Shenac was indignant at her brother. It would need the courage of both to make the future look otherwise than dark to their mother, and she thought Hamish was going to fail her. She was growing very eager; but she knew that the quick, hot words that might carry Hamish with her would have no force with her mother, and she put a strong restraint on herself, and said quietly—

“We can manage through the summer, mother. The wheat was sown in the fall, you know, and the elder said we were to have a bee next week for the oats, and we can do the rest ourselves—Hamish and Dan and I—till Allister comes home.”

“It would be a hard fight for you all,” said the mother despondingly.

“You should say Dan and you and little Hugh and Colin,” said Hamish bitterly. “They could help far more than I can, unless I am much better than I am now.” And then he dropped his head on his hands again.

Shenac rose suddenly and placed herself between him and her mother, and then she said quietly—

“And, mother, the elder thinks we can do it, or he wouldn’t have spoken about the bee. Nobody can think it right that Angus Dhu should take our father’s land from us; and the elder said nothing about Hugh; and Dan would never bide with Angus Dhu and work our father’s land for him. Never! never! Mother, we must try what we can do till Allister comes home.”

There was not much said after that. There was no decision in words as to their plans, but Shenac knew they were to make a trial of the summer’s work—she and her brothers—and she was content.

There were but two rooms downstairs in the little log house, and the mother and Flora slept in the one in which they had been sitting. So when Hamish came back from looking whether the gates and barn-doors were safely shut, he found Shenac, who had much to say to him, waiting for him outside.

“Hamish,” she said eagerly, “what ails you? Why did you not speak to my mother and tell her what we ought to do? Hamish,” she added, putting out her hand to detain him as he tried to pass her—“Hamish, speak to me. What ails you to-night, Hamish?”

“What right have I to tell my mother—I, who can do nothing?”

He shook off her detaining hand as if he was angry; but there was a sound of tears in his voice, and Shenac’s momentary feeling of offence was gone. She would not be shaken off, and putting her arms round his neck she held him fast. He did not try to free himself after the first moment, but he turned away his face.

“Hamish,” she repeated, “what is it? Don’t you think we can manage to keep together till Allister comes home? Is it that, Hamish? Tell me what you think it is right for us to do.”

“It is not that, Shenac; and I have no right to say anything—I, who can do nothing.”

“Hamish!” exclaimed his sister, in a tone in which surprise and pain were mingled.

“If I were like the rest,” continued Hamish—“I, who am the eldest; but even Dan can do more than I can. You must not think of me, Shenac, in your plans.”

For a moment Shenac was silent from astonishment; this was so unlike the cheerful spirit of Hamish. Then she said—

“Hamish, the work is not all. What could Dan or any of us do without you to plan for us? We are the hands, you are the head.”

Hamish made an impatient movement. “Allister would be head and hands too,” he said bitterly.

“But, Hamish, you are not Allister; you are Hamish, just as you have always been. You are not surely going to fail our mother now—you, who have done more than all of us put together to comfort her since then?”

Hamish made no answer.

“It is wrong for you to look at it in that way, Hamish,” continued Shenac. “I once heard my father say that though you were lame, God might have higher work for you to do than for any of the rest of us. I did not know what he meant then, but I know now.”

“Hush! don’t, Shenac,” said Hamish.

“No; I must speak, Hamish. It is not right to fret because the work you have to do is not just the work you would choose. And you’ll break my heart if you vex yourself about—because you are not like the rest. Not one of us all is so dear to my mother and the rest as you are; you know that, Hamish. And why should you think of this now, more than before?”

“Shenac, I have been a child till now, thinking of nothing. My looking forward was but the dreaming of idle dreams. I have wakened since my father died—wakened to find myself useless, a burden, with so much to be done.”

“Hamish,” said Shenac gravely, “that is not true, and it’s foolish, besides. If you were useless—blind as well as lame—if you were as cankered and ill to do with as you are mild and sweet, there would be no question of burden, because you are one of us, our own. If you were thinking of Angus Dhu, you might speak of burdens; but it is nonsense to say that to me. You know that you are more to my mother than any of us, and you are more to me than all my brothers put together; but I need not tell you that. Hamish, if it had not been for you, I think my mother must have died. What is Dan, or what am I, in comparison to you? Hamish, you must take heart and be strong, for all our sakes.”

They were sitting on the doorstep by this time, and Shenac laid her head on her brother’s shoulder as she spoke.

“I know I am all wrong, Shenac. I know I ought to be content as I am,” said Hamish at last, but he could say no more.

Shenac’s heart filled with love and pity unspeakable. She would have given him her health and strength, and would have taken up his burden of weakness and deformity to bear them henceforth for his sake. But she did not tell him so; where would have been the good? She sat quite still, only stroking his hand now and then, till he spoke again.

“Perhaps I am wrong to speak to you about it, Shenac, but I seem to myself to be quite changed; I seem to have nothing to look forward to. If it had been me who was taken instead of Lewis.”

“Hamish,” said Shenac gravely, “it is not saying it to me that is wrong, but thinking it. And why should you have nothing to look forward to? We are young. A year seems a long time; but it will pass, and when Allister comes home, and we are prosperous again, it will be with you as it would have been if my father had lived. You will get to your books again, and learn and grow a wise man; and what will it signify that you are little and lame, when you have all the honour that wisdom wins? Of course all these sad changes are worse for you than for the rest. We will only have to work a little harder, but your life is quite changed; and, Hamish, it will only be for a little while, till Allister comes home.”

“But, Shenac,” said Hamish eagerly, “you are not to think I mind that most; I am not so bad as that. If I were strong—if I were like the rest—I would like nothing so well as to labour always for my mother and you all; but I can do little.”

“Yes, I know,” said Shenac; “but Dan can do that, and so can I But your work will be different—far higher and nobler than ours. Only you must not be impatient because you are hindered a little just now. Hamish, bhodach, what is a year out of a whole lifetime? Never fear, you will find your true work in time.”

“Bhodach” is “old man” in the language in which these children were speaking. But on Shenac’s lips it meant every sweet and tender name; and, listening to her, Hamish forgot his troubles, or looked beyond them, and his spirit grew bright and trustful again—peaceful for that night at least. The shadow fell on him many a time again; but it never fell so darkly but that the sunshine of his sister’s face had power to chase it away, till, by-and-by, there fell on both the light before which all shadows for ever and for ever flee away.