Michael Lamont, Schoolmaster

Front matter

BY JESSIE PATRICK FINDLAY AUTHOR OF ' THE LOST TIDE' AND ' NORMAN REID, M.A.' LONDON HODDER AND STOUGHTON 27 PATERNOSTER ROW Edinburgh : T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty. TO MY HOME CRITIC CONTENTS CHAP- PAGE I. In the Wind and the Rain, ! II. " In Vino Veritas," 21 III. A Weaver's Mind, 30 iv. The Schoolmaster's Home-coming, ... 44 V. A Girl's Day-Dreams, . . . . . . 54 VI. Fortune-telling, 68 vn. The Brothers, 78 VIII. Country Quiet 91 IX. The Poet's Grave, 106 x. Phyllis gives her views on Love, . . . .118 XI. Will she come? 135 xn. In Michael Bruce's Cottage 147 XIII. Michael protests too much, 160 XIV. Music — the Food of Love, . . ' . . 174 XV. The Sisters, CONTENTS VIII CHAP. PAGE XVI. " Lochleven no more ! " 191 XVII. " Oh wad ye tak' a thocht and mend ! " . . 203 XVIII.

A Glimpse of Paradise, 218 XIX. A Strange Tryst 231 xx. The New Love, 244 XXI. Brave Nan ! 259 xxu. Repaid in his own Coin, 273 xxm. His Brother's Keeper 283 XXIV. " If thou shouldst be in peril dread !" . . . 293 XXV. Phyllis's Flight 306 xxvi. " Into the Silent Land ! " 318 xxvii. Michael's Second-best, 328 xxviii. " And they lived happy ever after ! " ...

Chapter I In The Wind And The Rain What

is there in the wide world drearier than the aspect of a middle-class Edinburgh suburb in a rainy, misty evening in chill October ? What sight — outside that of human woe — is more depressing than the appearance of the sooty laurel bushes as they shiver in the raw drizzle, dreeing out with an almost human resignation their stunted existence within the severely sym metrical plots in front of the severely respectable houses ? What affects the spirits so mournfully as to watch the last flame of the storm-portending sun set being blown out of the windy, darkening sky, and to see the drenched lamp-lighter hurry along the shining wet pavement on his nightly task of ' making darkness visible ' ? Neither an evening nor a locality this, one would think, in which to linger out of doors ; and yet that was just what a young girl was doing on a certain Monday evening when our story opens A nearly twenty years ago.

Alas ! that rainy autumn evening with its stormy sunset, its chill rain, its last leaves fluttering homelessly before the wind, was symbolic of much in the future to sweet Nan Hope ; but at least the year had had its May and had vaunted its summer wealth of green leaves and its golden sheaves of grain ; and perhaps before ' the winter of her discontent ' fell wanly on her life, Nan, too, would know a spring of pro mise, a summer of the heart, and an autumn of garnered, golden memories. Enveloped in a waterproof mantle and shel tered beneath an umbrella on which the rain beat a dreary tattoo, she stood under a dripping tree with eyes intent on a lighted window in the second flat of a house on the other side of the street. She appeared to possess a face of unusual beauty, although it was but dimly visible by the flickering light of the nearest lamp ; and she had a pair of large and timid blue eyes across which the wind blew a beautiful unruly fleece of curling flaxen hair.

She raised her hand impatiently once or twice to push aside the pretty veil, for nothing, apparently, must be allowed to intervene between her wistful gaze and the lighted window opposite, athwart which sometimes fell the hasty shadow of a man. That shadow brought a rosy tinge to Nan's cheeks and an eager light to her eyes. See how she starts and trembles as the light in the window is turned low! See how impulsively she steps forward and again shrinks timidly back as the door of the house is opened and closed again with a bang, indicating that the young fellow who stands a moment beneath the lobby lamp on the door-step is neither the careful landlord nor yet the responsible tenant of the house ! Then Nan Hope hears his steps crunching the few feet of gravelled walk — manly steps to which the beats of her heart have learned to keep time ; the gate is opened, and by the light of the nearest lamp she sees — why, whom do you think but a very ordinary-looking young fellow indeed who happens, however, to be the light of her softly shining blue eyes and the idol of her loving heart.

He came striding along the muddy pavement, clad in a much more fashionable waterproof than Nan's and wearing a dreadnought cap to match, for of course Michael Lamont despised a homely umbrella. His head was well bent forward to avoid the drizzling rain and he whistled cheerfully right in the teeth of the wind. A swift flight of timid little footsteps pattered behind him, a beseeching hand covered with a damp glove fluttered out of the rainy darkness by his side and alighted — like a dove not very sure of its welcome to what yet was home — upon the sleeve of his cloak. ' Why, Nan ! what on earth are you doing out in weather like this — and at night too ?' he ex claimed, looking down at her in displeased sur prise ; nevertheless, he paused in his rapid walk and taking possession of her wind-buffeted um brella he held it carefully over her head, and they walked on together. ' I wanted to speak to you.

I was wearying to see you. Don't be angry, Michael,' pleaded Nan. ' Let us move on a little faster. What a beastly night it is ! You ought to have dropped me a note, Nan, and I would have met you at the usual place. I was just on my way to post a letter to you. Are you certain that nobody who knows me saw you watching the window of my lodgings from the street? for of course you were doing that, little goose ! ' His tone was kinder than his words and, as the two had to walk very closely together on account of the very limited circumference of the umbrella, it was the easiest thing in the world for affectionate Nan to steal her hand shyly through the manly arm that held it over her head. ' It is so long since I saw you, Michael,' she whispered softly, ignoring his question — ' a whole long week, and you didn't come to church on Sabbath either !

I thought ' ' That I had forgotten you, of course ! ' said he. He pressed her arm as he spoke and Nan, growing more confident, replied with a happy laugh : — ' No ; I didn't think you had quite forgotten me, but I thought that you had perhaps gone home to Kinnesswood on Saturday to see about the schoolmaster's situation at Scotlandwell.' ' Yes ; I was there. The letter I was going to post to you was to tell you the result. I needn't give it to you now ' ' Have you got the appointment ? ' she inter rupted, starting and gripping his arm. ' Yes, my dear, I have. Behold the future dominie of Portmoak parish ! ' he answered, striking his breast with his disengaged hand in mock heroic fashion. ' O Michael, how glad I am ! How proud your father and mother will be ! ' cried Nan breathlessly. ' What will all the folk in the old place say when you go back among them to teach in the dear old school where you and I sat, oh ! so many years ago ?

How I wish that my time in Madame Carron's dress-making establish ment was up ! — I would return to the old home at Scotlandwell too and start business for myself, until ' Nan stopped in her happy anticipations with a vivid blush, too much confused to observe the frown that had gathered upon her lover's face, and for a little space there was silence between them. Michael Lamont and his little sweetheart were natives, as we have already gathered, of the same district, and it was that circumstance which had drawn them together in Edinburgh. He was an assistant in a large public school in the city, and Nan Hope, as we have seen, was serving her apprenticeship in a fashionable dress-making establishment. Through the influence of the Rev. Dr. Winter, who was parish minister of Portmoak and chair man of the School Board there, Michael Lamont had just been appointed to the situation of schoolmaster, rendered vacant by the retirement of the old parochial teacher. ' When do you go to your new situation, Michael ? ' asked Nan who had recovered from her confusion and was now somewhat uneasy at Michael's moody silence.

They were by this time walking in the full glare of the busy streets. ' Not for another month. I begin work on the Martinmas Term day — to put it in a local manner,' he replied with a short laugh. ' We '11 really re quire to walk faster, Nan ; I am sorry to hurry you, but I'm nearly due at the Harum-Scarum Club.' ' Go on, and I will walk home alone,' said she, piqued. • ' Not at all. I will take you to Madame's door first ; but hasten your steps.' ' O Michael ! ' exclaimed Nan, as she obedi ently did so, 'and do you really leave Edinburgh in a month ? What shall I do without you ? ' Her eyes filled with tears, but what did that matter in a world of drenching rain ? ' Don't be tragic, Nan,' was Michael's light re sponse. ' I'm not going to Timbuctoo. I '11 come often to Edinburgh on the Saturdays to see you.

By Jove, I '11 be precious glad of a day now and then away from that dull village ! I feel as if I was going to be buried alive,' cried he in an aggrieved tone. ' It may do all very well for a beginning ; and, as you say, it will please the old folk, but I promise you I won't remain a mere village dominie all my days ! ' ' I think it would be perfect happiness to be settled for life in one's native place ! ' cried Nan with pretty enthusiasm. ' That 's all you know about it,' grumbled Michael. ' I '11 never be able to take up a proper position in Portmoak. The people are a narrow, pig-headed lot ' ' O Michael — your own folk ! ' expostulated Nan. ' What does that matter ? They are a narrow minded set, and they'll never be able to forget that once I was a boy in the school I am to teach in. They '11 be reminding me of lots of things I would rather forget, and very likely they will ask me in their intolerable drawl if I mind the days when I winded my father's pirns and herded the sheep in summer on the Hill.' ' But it will be because they are proud of you, Michael.

I know their kind hearts ; — you are too hard upon their simple ways.' ' I don't see how I am going to stand their simple ways as you call it. But there 's one thing I 've made sure of — I 'm not going to live with my father and mother at Kinnesswood — a gossipy tumble-down old hole for ever smelling of damp peat-reek ! I 'm going into lodgings at Scotland well. I '11 be nearer the school and I '11 have more liberty.' ' But it 's only about a mile from Kinnesswood to Scotlandwell ; and your mother will wonder why you don't stay at home,' said Nan gravely. ' I 'm going to be my own master,' said Michael in a tone which suggested that he was doubtful on that point. ' I 'm not going to let my mother nag at me as she does at my father and Will. I say, Nan, there 's a schoolhouse at Scotlandwell, you know ; but I can let it if I like, and that is what I am going to do until somebody comes to keep house for me ; — now, little witch, guess with whom I am going to lodge ? ' said Michael, pinch ing Nan's cheek which glowed like a rose under the dusky umbrella. ' Tell me.

I am not good at guessing.' ' With Mrs. Hope — your old aunt' ' Oh, are you really ? How delightful ! I '11 hear all about you then, and perhaps I may some times come to see ' ' Your aunt ? — You sly little Nan ! ' interrupted he, playfully shaking his head. ' No, no ; there must be nothing of that sort — nothing to set the rustics gaping. You must remain where you are and work away at the grand ladies' gowns. Two years will soon pass, and then you shall come back to Scotlandwell — my wife.' ' O Michael ! ' was all that happy Nan could say. But swift came the shadow that was so often to spoil her sunshine — the shadow of her lover's changeable and unstable nature. ' But, after all, Nan, don't build your hopes on being mistress of Scotlandwell schoolhouse. There is a higher sphere in store for you.

In two years I am pretty certain to be away out of Portmoak parish. What do you say to the Head-Mastership of one of the new schools to be built in Edinburgh almost immediately ? If the present Board — or even a majority of the members — remain in office I would have a splendid chance, I can tell you !' 'But the responsibility would be a dreadful burden, would it not, Michael ? And I would like best to live all my days — with you — in the old home.' ' It 's not to be thought of!' cried he impatiently. ' I want to " cut a dash " — if you must have it in plain terms — and I cannot do that in Portmoak.' ' Is it because you would be ashamed of me as well as of the folk you belong to ? ' cried Nan in anger. 'Perhaps you don't want people to be saying — " Oh, he has married little Nan Hope ; we have kent her a' her days !

" ' she exclaimed, drifting into the Doric in her excitement. ' Don't show your temper, you little termagant ! ' said he, laughing at her; 'you know I hate nonsense of that kind. Don't be silly. Haven't I just told you that I can't possibly remain all my life in such a humdrum place ? — A fellow of my ability, by Jove ! — How unreasonable you are, Nan ! ' The ready tears stood in her eyes at her lover's rebuke and her sensitive mouth trembled. She looked up into his face with such a loving and timid appeal that it was impossible for him to remain angry with her. It was so evident that she loved him with all her heart. Half in mischievous fun, Michael slanted the umbrella until his little sweetheart and he were completely hidden from the view of passers-by and, bending down, he audaciously kissed her in the crowded street.

Nan was genuinely distressed. ' Michael, Michael ! ' she expostulated, blushing, ' how can you be so foolish ! I am quite sure that the old gentleman with the white hat who passed just now saw you. I am certain he is laughing. You have made me ridiculous ! ' ' Then why will you look so distractingly pretty? How is a fellow to keep from kissing his sweet heart when she looks up at him as you do ? I couldn't resist your eyes. They implored me to kiss you ! ' Michael only laughed when Nan indignantly withdrew her arm, shaking quite a shower of rain drops over her head from the dripping umbrella by the hasty movement. ' Come, Nan dearest ; let us be friends. I won't tease you any more,' said he, gently drawing her back out of the rain. ' I know that you love me.' Simple Nan ! she lifted her face adoringly to wards him at the risk of being kissed again and said with a blush — ' You know that I love you, Michael' — and it was not in Michael Lamont's nature not to feel triumphant and flattered. ' I believe that you think there 's nobody like me,' he said as he pressed her arm.

But Nan had a spice of contrariety in her disposition. ' There are one or two things — little things — that I could wish different; but there's nobody like you for all that, and I don't know how you ever came to fancy me,' said she with true love's humility. Michael's answer was to press her arm fondly as they walked together through the rain. He never doubted that he deserved the pure worship of this simple loving heart. Not he ! He believed himself to be a noble fellow in stooping to love such a meek and humble maiden ; and he accepted as no more than his due the treasures of love from the heart that was so transparently all his own. ' You might easily get a girl better and cleverer than I am,' continued Nan. ' I am afraid, Michael, that your mother won't be pleased with me.' ' I have chosen you and my mother must approve,' said he with splendid condescension ; and Nan's cheeks flushed high with pleasure and her eyes fell before her lover's ardent glances.

How she loved him ! While his arm was about her under the friendly cover of the dripping um brella she asked no more. The world — her world — was contained in one dear presence, in one face, in one familiar voice ; and the sky in spite of night and storm was bright with the magic glamour of love. ' How kind you are to me, Michael ! I wonder if I shall ever have a chance of proving how much I love you,' she said wistfully, not knowing that such an opportunity would surely come. ' I would do anything to show how fond I am of you.' Her words, so frank yet so maidenly-innocent, suggested a new thought to Michael. ' Would you indeed do anything for me ? ' I would die for you ! Work for you ! ' Hold, there, you silly Nan ! ' exclaimed Michael with a laugh that chilled her ardour. ' I hope you won't think of dying for me; and as for working ! — why, it is all the other way, you in dependent little woman.

I '11 work for you.' Still trembling with her emotion, she looked at him with a strange, pitiful look that vaguely dis concerted him. What did that look mean ? — he pondered uncomfortably as they walked onward so close together that he could almost feel the beating of her heart. He began to reflect that he knew absolutely nothing of her inner self, of her thoughts and feelings apart from her love for him ; — her love that was like a golden mist hiding what lay beyond in its own excess of light. Nan had indeed a much stronger nature than his, but he was blissfully unaware of it. It is true that she herself did not suspect this, for her character was undeveloped as yet, though full of promise and beauty far transcending her lowly birth and rustic breeding. That strange look of hers hinted more than she knew and Michael strove to answer it. ' Are you weighing me in the balance and find ing me wanting, Nan ? ' he said with an uneasy laugh.

She started, for he had crystallised her half unconscious thoughts into a definite form, and she turned away her eyes from him to the lighted streets and the hurrying cr6wds. How could she confess that with the omniscient insight of love she had divined for one brief moment the instability of his nature and had realised on how slight a foundation she was build ing her hopes of future happiness ? For that one moment the ceaseless roar of the city and the sound of the wind and rain fell upon her young heart with the bitterness of tears : — the next, she clung closer to her lover's arm. ' I will test your boast that you would do any thing for love of me, Nan. I want you to make me a promise — a small thing not of much import ance, but .' Michael paused awkwardly and swung the umbrella so recklessly that a shower of big drops fell on Nan's head. ' See what you are doing, you careless fellow ! ' she exclaimed laughingly as she shook the drops from her bright hair and pointed to the be draggled ribbons of her hat.

Then more gravely she added — ' What is it that you want me to promise ? ' ' I want you to keep our engagement a secret still,' said he, looking away with a flushed face. 'O Michael, when you are going back among the folk at home ! You do not know how difficult I find it to keep our engagement a secret from my dear old aunt. Every time I write home I feel a hypocrite ; — and what shall I feel when you are lodging in her house ? Won't you let me tell only her ? She won't tell it again, and it would make her so kind to you ' He interrupted her testily. ' There, I might have known the worth of your protestation ! You cry off at the first trifle I ask of you ! ' ' A trifle ! It is no trifle ! ' cried Nan hastily. ' You cannot understand how a woman feels about this. What is your reason for keeping our engagement a secret?' ' It is only for a little while,' he replied, evading her question; — 'only until I have had time to look about me and to establish myself in the good graces of the people.' ' I thought that you despised them,' said she quietly.

Michael winced a little and wondered if his simple Nan could mean to be sarcastic. He rejected that idea, however. ' If you can't understand the position of matters without tedious explanations, I can't help it. I consider that I have made a very reasonable request at this crisis in my prospects,' said he sulkily. Nan was silent for a minute or two ; at last with an uncontrollable sob she said gently — ' Never mind any explanations. I understand that in the meantime you desire to be thought — free. I will not tell of our engagement, Michael, until you yourself announce it.' Michael was too well pleased to have gained his point to trouble himself with fruitless specula tions regarding the mental process which had led Nan to yield so quietly and abruptly in the end. He sought to win her back into tenderness again, for he was always uncomfortable under disappro bation. ' Oh, by the way, Nan,' he cried gaily as he stopped in the street ; ' hold the umbrella a moment until I get into my pocket.' She obeyed and after much fumbling he drew forth the letter to her.

Tearing open the envelope, he extracted a single sheet of paper from the bulky enclosure and held it towards her with a smile. ' Here, my Muse, is a copy of my latest song for you. Put it in your pocket and read it at home,' he said as he regained the umbrella and they again walked on. Nan's face beamed with pleasure. He could not have chosen a surer way of winning her into smiles. ' I 'm going to sing it to the fellows at the Harum-Scarum Club to-night, and I thought I would write out a copy for you. You inspired it, you know ! ' ' O Michael ! how clever you are ! ' she said proudly. ' Well, Nan, my dear, I 've got the true poetic fire, although I say it myself. I 've got an imagi nation worthy of the name I bear — I wasn't called Michael Bruce Lamont for nothing ! ' Nan listened to him with delight.

She firmly believed in his poetic genius and in his frequent and boastful claim to be a poet ; and to be a poet like the gentle singer of Kinnesswood, whose ' Gospel Sonnets ' she knew and loved so well, was in her partial estimation to be greater even than Burns. B How was Nan to know that vain Michael Lamont shared the gift of facile rhyming with legions of other verdant and ardent young fellows in love ? And how, above all, was she to know that the imagination he so frankly vaunted was just sufficiently lively and delusive to blind him to the fact that he was the least little bit of a humbug ? ' Here we are, almost at the door of Madame Carron's establishment ! We must say good night, Nan,' said Michael cheerfully, not attempt ing to conceal his eagerness to be off to his club. When they reached the door of the business house where Nan along with a dozen or more young girls was boarded, she put a detaining hand on his as he was about to ring the bell. ' Wait a minute, Michael.

It 's my turn to ask a promise from you,' she said. 'Eh? What about?'— But I think that he knew quite well what was in Nan's mind. ' Don't take too much — I mean too many — refreshments, Michael, at your club to-night,' said Nan, bungling dreadfully over her words. ' I want you to ' ' Beware of getting jolly ! By Jove, Nan, you aren't my wife yet that you should lecture me ! ' cried he blustering a little, but secretly uneasy under her steadfast look. ' Michael, don't get angry. You know that sometimes you ' ' Go home drunk ! ' finished he, then laughed harshly. ' Yes ; — if you choose to put it so,' she replied, confronting him bravely. ' You little goose,' said he, changing his tone, ' I was never drunk in my life. I always know when to stop, and one must be social or what 's the good of life?

It's cowardly to renounce pleasure.' ' Pleasure ! ' echoed Nan scornfully. ' How pretty you look when you 're angry, Nan ! How splendidly your eyes flash ! But really and truly, little woman, you don't need to be afraid. I can take one jolly glass and stop there — like my father before me.' ' But will you always be able to do that ? ' said she gravely. ' You should resist ' ' That 's about enough ! ' cried he, irritably breaking in upon the quiet, loving voice. ' I '11 tell you what, Nan, if I am to resist everything I find pleasant I may as well be done with life." Nan — who knew her most effective weapon and was not above making use of it — began to cry. ' Look here ! ' exclaimed Michael with ludicrous alacrity — ' I '11 promise you anything you like, but for heaven's sake don't cry It 's really all right, dear ; I hope I have more respect for myself than to get drunk at the end of a social evening.' Michael felt quite aggrieved as he spoke and, pulling the door-bell violently, he brought the interview to an arbitrary conclusion.

As the door slowly creaked open upon its chain he pushed Nan gently within the lighted passage leading to the stairs. He closed the umbrella which had been their tent of love and, thrusting it into her hand, he hastily kissed her. ' Good-night, Nan,' he said. ' Next time we meet we must arrange about corresponding, you know ; ' and he was gone, leaving her to toil sadly up the many stairs that had to be ascended before she could reach the cold seclusion of her chamber at the top of the house.

Chapter II In Vino Veritas

I AM afraid that when once Michael Lamont found himself in the midst of the congenial and remarkably free-and-easy company who fre quented the Harum-Scarum Club, he thought very little of his promise to Nan Hope. Brilliant, shallow Michael excelled himself that night ; and as the hours flew past with song and jest and copious drinking he became more and more elated. He was in a sense the guest of the evening, for the news of his appointment was the latest topic in the club, and his fellow-members flattered him and toasted him with many more or less sincere wishes for the future welfare of the dominie of Portmoak. It is true that in not a few cases a sneer lay hidden — like a snake — at the root of their light compliments, for be sure that in that clear-sighted Bohemian company Michael Lamont's character was pretty accurately gauged ; but he was at a once too honest and too vain to suspect this, and he took compliments and praises as no more than his due.