The Trespasses of Two, etc

Front matter

"GOD FORSAKEN," By FREDERIC BRETON. In cloth gilt, 6s. The Athenæum says : — " This is a powerful novel, and in dialogue and action the characters bring themselves into relief after an original and forcible fashion." The Saturday Review says : — " The plot is most uncommon and very cleverly worked out, and the writing never lacks power." The Graphic says : — " Of its literary merit there can be no more question than of the Author's strength of purpose and skill in giving it forcible expression." The Daily Chronicle says : — " Mr. Breton's first work ex cited a good deal of attention; its successor will probably excite more. It is certainly a strong book, and it is literature. The writing is excellent. Mr. BRETON has written a story that is certainly worth reading." The Weekly Sun says: — "An exceedingly brilliant book.

There is no gainsaying the splendid talents of the Author. The book simply overflows with cleverness. Clearly Mr. Breton is dowered with rich and precious gifts, and we shall watch his career as an Author with hope and interest and expectation." The Speaker says : — " There is about it an earnest beauty of tone which renders the book well worth reading. Keen observation and accurate discrimination of human conduct and motive are visible in this powerful tale." The Literary World says : — "With ability, with insight into character, with directness, he tells his story. ' God Forsaken ' is a book that deserves plenty of readers." The Standard says : — " We are transported to a neev world and among a new type of human beings. It required no ordinary talent to absorb so thoroughly and reproduce so well the Norse types of human nature."

The National Observer says : — " ' God Forsaken ' is a powerful and convincing story. The leading characters are drawn with a master's hand." LONDON: HUTCHINSON. NEW YORK : PUTNAM'S SONS. BY THE SAME AUTHOR. "A HEROINE IN HOMESPUN." The Athenæum says :— " The Author evidently knows his ground ; the descriptions ring true ; the Hallowe'en dance and several of the Crofters' dialogues may have been studied from life." The Saturday Review says : — " 'A Heroine in Homespun' is as sensational as the ' Gentleman in France ' . . . There is power as well as pathos in the novel, and the local colouring is excellent." The Guardian says : — " A story out of the common, a tale of humble life, full of passion and poetry, of strong local character and serious interest . . . The novel is much above the average."

Part I. The Coming Of Cameron

CHAP. _ PAGE I. —THE BREAKING OF THE BOWL - - - 3 II. — MAD MARGERY - - - - 17 III.— THE CORAGHREACH .... 27 IV. — JULIE'S CRONY ----- 4I V. — THE BEGINNING OF A MYSTERY - - 51 VI.— OVERHEARD AT DUNSCAITH - - - 6l VII.— THE "STABLE-BOY" ... 74 VIII. — THE " KETTLE OF WATER" - - - 84 IX. — FRIENDSHIP ----- 98 X. — SOMEONE AT ORMICLATE - - - 106

Part II. The Filling Of The Cup

I. — THE FIRST BLOW - - - - 121 II.— THE "HOUSE OF THE TWO OLD WOMEN" - 137 III.— A NEW SUSPICION - - - - Contents VIII CHAr. . PA°B IV. — THE PLEADING OF DONALD KINLOCH - - l62 V. — SIGNS AND TOKENS - - - - 179 VI. — THE NEIGHING OF A HORSE - - 193 VII. — UNDER RESTRAINT ... - 201 VIII.— "A VICE OF THE BLOOD" - - - 214 IX. — AN OLD STORY ----- 225 X.— BACK TO PORT ----- 240

Part III. The Counting Of The Cost

I.— BY THE ADDERS' CRAG - - - 255 II.— ON THE EVE ----- 268 III. — THE FAILURE OF THE FIRE - - - 278 IV.— THE HONOUR OF THE HEAD - - 292 V. — A WOEFUL WEDDING ... - 303 VI. — HOW A WORD WAS KEPT - - 321 VII.— THE BATTLE-LIGHT - 333 VIII.— THE PASSING OF EVAN CAMERON - - 346 IX. — IN THE LONG-RUN - - -

Chapter I. The Breaking Of The Bowl

ONE of the most cherished objects in the drawing room of my uncle's house of Ormiclate was an old blue china punch-bowl. It had formerly been at Kingsburgh House, and had never been used since the evening which Prince Charles Stuart spent under Kingsburgh's roof after the young Pretender's historic escape from Uist, across the Minch with Flora Mac donald. According to the family tradition, the Prince, who, even at that perilous juncture, was over-inclined to conviviality, had called for a fresh jorum of punch at a later hour than was deemed prudent by his host. Kingsburgh accordingly took hold of the bowl to remove the cause of temptation, but was forcibly op posed by his royal guest, and, in the struggle, the vessel was broken into three pieces. After the Prince's departure, however, the fragments were care fully riveted together, and the bowl, rendered for ever Zbe trespasses of Cwo. 4 sacred by the handling of royal, if irreverent hands, became one of the most cherished of family heir looms.

It came into possession of my uncle, Æneas Macculloch, through his wife, who was a descendant of Kingsburgh. During my aunt's lifetime, the bowl was always kept filled with white heather, gathered from a special patch discovered by Donald Kinloch on the hillside above the Ulainn woods, and re ligiously preserved for this object. It is strange to connect a cracked piece of china with the coming of an enemy, but the most tragic events are often imprinted on the memory by some trifling or even ludicrous accompanying circumstance, and the Prince's bowl, as we used to call it, is for ever connected in my mind with the coming of Dr. Cameron. It was not appropriate, but he came to us with the summer, when day encroaches far upon night, and, even so late as ten o'clock, it is possible to read with out artificial light.

I had been down to one of the black houses on the shore of Loch Eishoart to see Calum Macvurich, who was dying of consumption. I had been in the habit of supplying the poor fellow with the mild tobacco which he found pleasure in smoking, long after his lungs were too weak to endure the strong, black twist in favour among the hale men of the crofter class. But, on the evening of Cameron's arrival, poor Calum was too far gone to do more than smile wistfully at the cigarette which I rolled for him with my own fingers, and his old mother whispered to me that he would have " no further use for tobacco in this world, whatever ! " Zbe 3B.eah.ng of tbe 3BowI. 5 The recollection of Calum's smile, and the patience with which he was awaiting his summons, haunted me all the way back to the house, and I was quite glad to return to the cosy commonplaces of the living, and seat myself by the wood fire in the Ormiclate drawing-room.

It was comforting to see the healthy faces of my cousin Julie Macculloch and my sister Morag, and to hear the merry prattle of Julie's younger sister Flora, known more generally by the Gaelic diminutive of "Fleack" orthe Anglicised abbreviation of "The Flea," as she talked to James Carey, the meagre, little, white kitten with a black brand on its nose, which, much to her annoyance, I had one day christened " The Smutty-faced Informer." " What kind of night is it, Angus ? " asked Julie. " To judge by the sound of the waves, the wind must have backed to the west again. It's a mercy father is driving back from Broadford, instead of taking the hill road to Heast and sailing down the loch, even though I should like to see the face the new doctor would make at the sight of the old Terror, and the idea of trusting his valuable person to such a cranky craft on a rough sea."

" The waves would wash his face for him, whatever, as the old Earthworm would say," observed Fleack, the Earthworm being her nickname for Ian Chrubach, the gardener. " Don't be rude, Flora ! " said my sister. " Rude ! " repeated the little girl. " I was only saying what Ian remarked to the black man with tTwd. 6 whom he once rowed ashore from the steamer at Broadford. I have never forgotten the old Earth worm telling us about it. He said he had always had a curiosity as to what the devil was like, but he would go to heaven quite comfortably now, because he had a very good notion of old Hornie, whatever." " How does the Earthworm know he is going to heaven — a grimy, old mulligrub like he is?" asked Julie. " I wish you wouldn't ask Fleack such silly questions," said Morag. " It only encourages her in her nonsense, and she picks up enough rubbish in the black houses already !

" " Well, why shouldn't she if it amuses her ? " re joined my elder cousin, throwing down her knitting and rising impatiently from her chair. " I'm sure we sha'n't get much fun after Dr. Cameron comes. I can't think what possessed father to ask him here. Why couldn't the doctor have waited until his own house over at Knock was built ? We're not so hard up that we need to take boarders, though the sheep are our only paying tenants. A visitor or two in summer is all very well, but to be saddled with a per fect stranger for three months or more. Ach ! I've no patience with father! " " You haven't very much with anyone else, Julie ! " said my sister, smiling. " I can never forget how you badgered poor Mairi, when she was here last autumn, about your riding-habit." " Well ! that was for riding !

" retorted my cousin. " I didn't make half as much fuss about my other Œbe œreahing of tbe :_3owl. 7 dresses as you did about yours. I wasn't going to have a train like a ball dress to catch in the stirrup every time I got off Cossack at Isle Ornsay or Arma dale, and have all the children laughing at me." " I wonder how poor Mairi is," said Morag. " We haven't heard from her for months ! " " Ask Angus ! " Julie rejoined. " I'm sure he ought to know if anyone does. He flirted with her so desperately that I felt quite jealous. Even the old Earthworm remarked what cronies they were." I resented the accusation, and was about to reply, but my sister forestalled me. "You really should not say such things, Julie," she observed. " Of course a joke among ourselves doesn't matter, but it is better not to say anything that one does not want repeated and distorted.

Just suppose anyone heard what you just said about poor Angus ! You know what the people are, and if it once got into the black kitchen that Angus had been flirting with Mairi, as you call it. . . ." " They'd call it by another name," said Julie. " Well, what if they do ? " " You don't want that, do you ? " asked Morag. "Well, no, I don't! I'm sorry I spoke. My tongue is too slippery, as Donald Kinloch says, only to-night I feel in the mood to do or say anything." "You'd better get Dr. Cameron to give you a pill," remarked Fleack. " Oh ! hang Dr. Cameron ! I wish he had come up the loch from Heast, and had gone to the bottom ! " exclaimed my elder cousin, flouncing out Œwo. 8 of the room, followed equally impetuously by her younger sister. Morag looked at me with a twinkle of amusement in her usually grave, grey eyes.

"It's only pretence!" said she. "I believe Julie enjoys the excitement of a new arrival as much as anyone, only she was put out because, when we were in the kitchen this afternoon, Boo was chaffing her and saying she could have a new string to her bow, now that Cameron was coming. What like is he, Angus ? You met him in Edinburgh, didn't you ? " " Only once ! I can't say I took very kindly to him ! He seemed too polished to be real ! But I don't want to prejudice you against him, beforehand. I know very little of the man. He ought to be all right, considering what a friend his father was of the governor's. Uncle would not have asked him here, otherwise. But there is Ropag barking. Jess and Jacob must have been put to their mettle to get here so quickly." " You'd better run over to the square to meet them," said Morag.

" I must go to the kitchen. Anna Ruadh brought a fine bag of spout-fish from the White Island this morning, and I've made some spout-fish soup ; but I'm sure Boo will spoil it, if I don't go and superintend operations. She generally contrives to get things burnt, porridge included, as you found to your cost this morning, Angus." That my uncle was determined from the outset to treat Dr. Cameron as one of the family was proved by the fact that he did not drive him up to the front flbe 3Bteahlng of tbe 3Bovvt. 9 porch, as he did ordinary visitors, but introduced the newcomer at once into the custom of the house by turning into the square of outbuildings which stood some yards distant from the front garden gate and served as both farm-steading and stable-yard. Cameron was equally ready to fall in with our homely habits, for when I reached the square, he was holding the lantern for Donald Kinloch to unharness the horses.

Kinloch's official position at Ormiclate was that of grieve or bailiff, but the title was not so ex clusive as to prevent him from turning his hand to any work for which his services were required. Thus, he was also head shepherd and head coachman, and my uncle's right-hand man in all matters connected with the out-door work of the estate. He was the great-uncle of the girl Mairi, concerning whom my cousin Julie had been chaffing me, but it was only after events that made me think of him specially in this connection. " Ah ! here's our faithful Angus ! " cried my uncle. " Come away and renew your acquaintance with Dr. Cameron ! " " Welcome to Ormiclate ! " said I, at a loss for any better form of greeting. Cameron bowed. " Excuse my hand," said he, holding up the lantern. " Take a hold of the lantern yourself, Angus," said my uncle.

I obeyed, and in the transfer of the light from Cameron's hand to mine, the radiance passed across flbe {Trespasses of Uwo. 10 his face with something of the effect of a rapid dis solving view. It had a curious effect on me, and, to -___» this day, my most vivid recollection of Cameron is the impression I received when his face, as it were, flashed out of the darkness and disappeared. It was almost as if I had surprised the very soul of the man, so distinct was the picture. Yet I cannot describe it, beyond saying that there was a look in Cameron's eyes which showed that they had seen something more of life than a cattle-market at Broadford, or a hillside preaching. But my amateur character-reading was cut short by the gruff voice of Donald Kinloch. " Maybe you'll be lighting me into the stable, Mr. Angus," said he.

" That white beast of a Jacob has taken a spite at the light, and put his great ugly splay hoof on the lantern when I set it on the ground to sort his stall collar last night." " Ay ! give him a hand, there's a decent lad," said my uncle, " while I take Dr. Cameron in to get his supper." >. Thus bidden, I had no choice but to obey, though I was curiously anxious to witness the first meeting between the young doctor and my cousin Julie. I was prevented from dwelling uncomfortably upon the matter by the appearance of Julie's sister, Fleack. She brought two pieces of oatcake for the horses, giving the smaller to the roan mare, Jess, and, with the larger, diverting the attention of her pet, Jacob, from the obnoxious lantern, soothing the gaunt equine patriarch the while with such characteristic tbe asreahing of tbe jBowt. 11 Gaelic endearments as " Poor little sad one !

" and " Grey old man with the blue nose ! " The horses being stabled, Fleack made me go with her to the byre on the shore to hear Machky the dairymaid sing as she milked the Ayrshire cows. By the time we returned to the house, over an hour had elapsed since Cameron's arrival, and my little cousin went straight to her bed, leaving me to enter the drawing-room alone. As I opened the door, my eyes were fairly dazzled. At ordinary times, one lamp on the table near the fire-place gave enough light for the game of cribbage, which my uncle and I were in the habit of playing during the winter evenings. Julie and Morag, sitting on low stools by our side, could knit by the same light, and, even when the girls played to my uncle his favourite Gaelic airs, they never would allow the piano candles to be lighted, so that the music was rendered tenfold more weird and eerie by the shadows from which it apparently proceeded.

On the night of Cameron's arrival, however, the long, low room was made to seem positively small by the crude brightness which banished all the suggestion of size afforded by shadow. Besides three lamps, placed in different parts of the room, candles had been fixed in the old silver candelabra on either side of the mantelpiece, and also in the crystal chandelier hanging from the centre-piece of the ceiling. Right under this galaxy a table had been set with spirit decanters and glasses, and the old silver toddy-ladles, riwo. 12 which only saw the light, as a rule, on such solemn occasions as a marriage or a burying. " Ah ! Angus," said my uncle, catching sight of me standing hesitatingly in the door-way, "come away in, lad, and make yourself at home. A man of two and-twenty doesn't need to stand at the door with his finger to the corner of his mouth like a shy school girl.

I'm going to brew a bowl of punch to drink Dr. Cameron's welcome to Ormiclate. It's long since we had an excuse for such merrymaking, and now we're set about it, we'll do the thing properly, and nothing will content us but the Prince's bowl itself. Julie, get to your piano, and play us one of the rebel tunes your poor mother was so fond of. I warrant Dr. Cameron would rather have held a commission from James than George, had he been born a generation or so earlier. His great-grandfather was out in the ' Forty-five,' was he not, Cameron ? '" The doctor just nodded, and I saw Julie look at him with far less of scorn than she had spoken of him before his arrival. " Why don't you say ' yes,' Cameron, in place of nodding like a china mandarin ? Surely you ought to be glad to have such a passport to the goodwill of our Highland damsels, as an ancestor who was on the right side."

" I prefer to gain esteem by my own qualities," answered Cameron. " Had you been longer in the country," grumbled my uncle, " you would know that we of the old stock Zbe 3Breahtng of tbe 3Bowl. 13 take a man's measure far more by the qualities of his father and grandfather than by his own." "Can't a good father have a disreputable son, then ? " asked Cameron, smiling. " Ay ; but only in a gentlemanly way. A little wildness in youth is the hall-mark of breeding, high spirits, energy, and all the rest of it. No one thinks worse of a young man for that, rather the contrary. I only wish Angus here," indicating myself with a jerk of his thumb, " would give us a taste of his quality in that matter, but he's a very pink of pro priety. And, indeed, I could hardly expect otherwise, seeing the strain he got from his mother's father, the minister of Glendale.

Men are much like sheep. A cross in the breeding can't be got rid of even in five generations. But all the same, even a minister is capable of a clerical error, and they tell me the theological students are often the wildest up in Edinburgh, so Angus' turn may come yet, eh, Angus?" A smile illumined Cameron's somewhat melancholy face during this latter portion of my worthy uncle's speech, but I had noted a flash of suspicious anger come into his dark eyes at the remark that the sons of gentlemen could only be disreputable in a gentlemanly way. I say I noticed this, but at the time I really paid little attention to the matter, thinking it must have been merely a freak of my imagination. We generally try to blind ourselves to such things until they are illuminated by the light of after-events.

Meanwhile, my uncle placed the Prince's bowl on {Two. 14 the table, and rang the bell for hot water, while Julie, evidently feeling the occasion unsuitable for the Gaelic melodies of which her father was so fond, rattled forth the merry march of the Barren Rocks of Aden, with pipe variations. She was playing her sprightliest, and Cameron was beating time to the music with his fingers on the table, when my uncle lifted the steaming copper kettle to complete his festive brew. At this moment, the spring door shut ting off the hall from the kitchen and servants' quarters, slammed violently, and we heard the clattering of hob-nailed boots across the stone flags of the hall. My uncle paused with the kettle in his hand, and looked towards the door, which was opened at the same instant, without the prelude of knocking, by Donald Kinloch.

" What the devil's wrong with you ? " asked my uncle, scared by the man's white face. "Eh! Mr. Macculloch, Calum Macvurich's mother has just been coming in to say poor Calum is gone. . . ." " Poor lad ! " muttered my uncle. " Ay ! " continued Donald. " And she and all the peoples who were being with her, waiting for the passing of the poor lad's spirit, were seeing a light out in Loch Eishoart, and the schoolmaster from Toka bheig, who came over to say a bit prayer by poor Calum's bedside, was saying there was a ship on the Sceir na Fheidh, and Coinneach Bheag had gone down to the shore with a rope." " By gad ! " exclaimed my uncle. " It must be {Tbe 3Breah_ng of tbe 3Bow_. 15 Skipper Mackenzie with our coal. I met old Monroe at Broadford. He was out fishing at the Point of Sleat this morning, and said he saw the Flower of Dunblane tacking across from Rum.

That will be a grand thing for the naval surveyors, if my coal goes to form a new reef alongside of the Sceir na Fheidh ! " As he spoke, he set the kettle down quickly, and by reason that his eyes were fixed on Donald Kin loch, instead of at what he was about, he knocked the copper against the china. The weaker vessel yielded, and, falling on the floor, broke in pieces, while the scalding contents streamed over Dr. Cameron's feet, which were only protected by low, blue cloth shoes and silk socks. I could not but pity the man, for, however well brewed it may be, and however comforting internally after a wet winter walk across the hills, hot punch is not a pleasant lotion for outward application. My uncle was profuse in his apologies, and bade Julie run to the store-room for some flour to apply to the scald.

Dr. Cameron, biting his under-lip to repress any expression of pain, tried to smile, and said he did not wish to trouble Miss Macculloch. " Trouble ! " said my uncle. " What are girls made for but to wait upon the men ? Julie is only too pleased to get a chance of being useful. It was she and Morag between them who patched up Lachlan Ruadh's face when he fell into the porridge pot. I must tell you that story, Cameron. Remind me in the morning ! I must be off to the shore now to see about my coal. The fishes can look after Skipper Mackenzie and his men, but my fuel is another matter. Come, Angus, you'll be of more use with me than here. The girls will look after the doctor. Anyway, a scalded foot will soon mend, but I don't know where to look for the shipwright handy enough to mend the vessel that breaks her back on the Sceir na Fheidh, or for the matter of that " — here he glanced ruefully at the pieces of china strewing the polished floor — " the potter who will mend the broken Prince's bowl !

" With these words he went into the hall, and taking his plaid and shepherd's crook from the hat-rack, strode out into the windy darkness of the night. I followed him, eager, indeed, to be at the stirring scene of the wreck, but rather depressed by my backward glance at Julie, bending down to tend Dr. Cameron's scalded foot amid the fragments of the broken bowl.

Chapter II. Mad Margery

Taking the short cut to the sea, which was known as the " little road," to distinguish it from the long moorland way, which led to the township of Drimfern and thence to Broadsord and other centres of civilisa tion, my uncle and I soon made our way along the coast to the cove beyond the mouth of the Ormiclate river. Here, the silting of the sand had formed a long, narrow spit, swept by the surf at spring-tide, but at low water affording an excellent outlook right across the loch by the Sceir na Fheidh, and as far as Strathaird Point and Eillan Ruari. " See anything, Angus ? " asked my uncle, peering into the windward darkness. " Not a thing," said I, " except the light in old Graham's house at Strathaird." " Ay, I can make that out myself, lad. It shows that the atmosphere is fairly clear in spite of the clouds in the west."

" Shall I go on to Sron Darragh?" I asked. "One can see further from the high ground." "Ay, a good thought of yours, Angus ! I'd come myself, only this confounded rheumatism in my knee 17 B bids fair to make a cripple of me before my time. Hie on to the point and be smart about it, while I go back and give Donald Kinloch and his fellow num skulls a skelping for the foolish fright they gave us." So saying, my uncle turned back along the shore, while I clambered up the footpath leading up the cliffs to the coppice of wind-dwarfed oaks, which gave Sron Darragh its name — Oak Nose. I saw little more from the promontory than I had seen from the level shore, and was about to return to Ormiclate House by the more direct road leading past the Fairies' Cleft and the Ulainn woods, when my eye was caught by the glimmer of a light in Coinneach Bheag's store-house, down on the shore of the sandy bay known as Camasebheig, halfway be tween Ormiclate and the township of Tarskebheig.

Coinneach Bheag was a handy little man, who would sell you most things, from an ounce of sweeties for the children to a lynch-pin for your spring-cart. But the reason why so many of the men liked to pay his house a visit of an evening was rather because of the fine whisky which he kept, and which was both cheaper and stronger than could be had at the licensed houses. You had to be both known and trusted before he would provide you with the precious fluid ; but for this very reason, the informal gather ings that assembled from time to time at his house were essentially friendly, and entirely composed of men of the country, who would not tell the exciseman at Broadsord that, in such and such a remote corrieon rlftaD ÆSargevg. 19 the hills, they had seen smoke rising from the ground, and could not say what house it came from, unless it might be a bothy, where spirit was being distilled which would never contribute a penny to the national revenue.

Neither exciseman nor coastguard was of much account in those days among the men of Ormi clate, particularly those who dwelt on the wild western side of the peninsula. Knowing, from the light in Coinneach Bheag's house, that I should be certain to find him enter taining men, who were far more likely to have authentic news of the coal-vessel than the servants at Ormiclate, I continued my way across Sron Darragh, and, carefully threading the bogs at the mouth of Allt Sgiabh-bheinn, I soon found myself rapping at the door of the store-house. The light went out in a moment at the sound of my knock, and I had to crack my knuckles repeatedly against the wooden panels before anyone came. When Coinneach Bheag at length cannily opened the door a few inches, he was in the act of stifling a yawn, as if just awakened from sleep.