May

Chapter I

In the meantime, the young women at Pit comlie, as they were entitled bjr Mr. Charles. had been spending their time very agreeably. Verna had got the house well in hand. She had re-arranged everything. The very furniture had been changed from one room to another. " We must at once give the house a character," she said, " so that it may be seen to be your house, Matty, and not the old Heriots'. There are a great many old-fashioned things which must be cleared away. We must give it a character ;" and she went about the rooms, pulling the furniture hither and thither. Verna, unfortu- VOL. III. B MAY. nately, though she had zeal, had no knowledge ; she thought the results of a modern upholsterer's work, spick and span new tables, chairs, and carpets, all ordered without consideration of expense, would produce something infinitely better than the present aspect of the room, which had been lived in, loved in, suffered in, for so many years, and had acquired a human character of sympathy which makes even wood and velvet poetical.

She did not understand the old inlaid cabinets, which had been Marjory's pride, any more than she could understand that insane de sire for " a view," which apparently had tempted "the old family" to open its windows so to the stormy sea. " One cannot escape the sea at such a place as this," Verna said ; " we must put up with it, though I don't care for it ; but to turn all the windows that way, on purpose, when there is quite a pretty garden behind, and a sheltered corner, with flower-beds, and all that. I have written to Mr. Freestone, and he is coming down on Satur day to see about a new wing." This talk was carried on for the advantage of M A Y. 3 young Hepburn, who had come, as he now did daily, to ask how the ladies were ; and if he could do anything for them. "A new wing!" he said; "but you will find that highly expensive ; and the house has always been thought a large house."

" Always been thought !" said Verna, with some scorn. " By those who don't know what sort of a house my sister has set her heart upon. I do not think it a large house ; but it is a very good sort of foundation to work upon. By the time Tommy is of age, he is sure to be Master of the Hounds, High Sheriff of the county, or, per haps, even Lord-Lieutenant — for I suppose the Heriots are well known to be one of the best families in Fifeshire ; and then, of course, he will require room to give balls and other entertain ments ; he will be very grateful to me, you may be certain. My plan is to pull down the old house — " " To pull down the old house !" Hepburn repeated, in growing consternation. " And to build on the additions there," Verna continued calmly. " I have it all in my head. B MAY Unfortunately, I can't draw very well, but! have made a kind of an elevation, as they call it.

The end of the new wing will come just where the old tower does; and the new drawing-room, wliich will be fifty feet by forty, will look out upon the lime-tree avenue. It will be delight fully shady, and we can have the flower-beds close under the windows. Then upstairs we can have some new rooms ; it will be a great improve ment. The drawing-room here is not a bad room, but it is dingy ; and so are the dining-room and library. Iu short, I don't doubt it was very nice for the old people, Mr. Hepburn — the old gentle man, who, I suppose, never saw much society ; but my sister is young, and, of course, will recover her spirits — " " Do you think she will ?" said the sympathetic Johnnie. "Are there not some gentle natures that mourn for ever ?" Verna looked at him with a doubtful glance, dubious for the moment -whether she should help him to a little real insight into her sister's inclina tions, or whether she should keep up the pathetic aspect of affairs.

And it appeared to her that MAY, 5 the latter was so very much the most advantageous mode of action, that, though the temptation to reveal the truth had come strongly upon her for a moment, she hastily repelled it. " Yes, indeed," she said, shaking her head; " that is very true ; but, dear Mr. Hepburn, my sister is very young ; we cannot expect that she will always be as she is now." " Ah !" said Johnnie ; " but we may hope, at least — I mean, she can never be more perfect than with that sweet air of resignation ; that look as of one whose existence has already passed into another world." Oh, what a temptation it was for Verna to give him a little sketch — such as she could so well have done — of the real Matty ! Anyone who has had to sit by and hear a fool elevated into a saint by some still more foolish worshipper, will under stand her secret exasperation.

But there were a great many things to be taken into consideration. In the first place, Matilda's melancholy aspect was much her best one — when she cried she did not require to talk and commit herself, as otherwise she must have done infallibly ; and, in the second place, Verna knew that to attempt to keep her MAY sister in subjection, without affording her the relief of a -worshipper, was hopeless, and young Hepburn ranked high in her list of ways and means. She shook her head accordingly, subduing herself, and acquiesced in this noble picture of Matty ; but added : " You must remember, Mr. Hepburn, how young she is; and even if she should not care for society for herself, she must, some time or other, see the advantage for her children. And we all have a taste for fine rooms and handsome furniture," Verna added, with a princely air.

" It is a weakness, no doubt ; but the Bassetts are all famed for it. Matilda will never be happy till she has given a character to the house." All this would have been infinitely comic to any man who had not been captivated by Mrs. Charles Heriot's afflicted beauty. But young Hepburn was like most people in that condition; he accepted, as the most dignified truth, what would have appeared the most transparent nonsense in other circumstances. He did more than this ; he allowed Marjory's home and kingdom, in which he had worshipped her since ever he could re- MAY 7 member, to be spoken of as " good enough for the old people," and acquiesced in the fact that the Bassetts required something more magnificent, and that the house must have a character given to it, before it could become a fit habitation for Mrs. Charles and her sister.

He was not a fool, nor unfaithful to his traditions ; he was a great lover of poetry, the most intellectual person, by a long way (except the Minister, whose intellect took, as was right and natural, a Biblical form,) in the neighbourhood of Comlie. Few men in the East Neuk were to be compared to him in the way of accomplishments and general cultivation ; but yet he was guilty of this foolishness and meanness without in the least being aware of it — or, at least, with an uneasy consciousness which he would not permit himself to be aware of. And yet his heart was not false to the ideal wliich had been his highest vision of excellence all his life. Had he spoken of Marjory, it would still have been with enthusiasm — though with that ser vility, which is common to men in love, he allowed it to be necessary that Mrs. Charles should "give a character" to her house.

When Mrs. M A V Charles appeared, however, and he had the honour so often accorded to him of escorting her round the garden (which Matilda, too, much pre ferred to the cliff) he made a gentle remonstrance against Verna's energetic measures. " I hear that there are to be several changes," he said, timidly. " Miss Bassett has been telling me about a new wing." " Yes," said Mrs. Charles. " That is Verna's way. She always likes to be pulling things about. I declare I think she was quite pleased to see that ugly old ruin, that she might pull it down and make everything tidy. It is a fancy she has." " But — do you think the old house — ugly ?" said Hepburn, still more timidly. Mrs. Charles was leaning on his arm ; she was looking up at him with those pretty blue eyes, into which tears were ready to come at a moment's notice— a sweet dependent creature, seek ing support and sympathy.

Johnnie Hepburn knew a gi-eat deal better on this point than she did. Had the old house of Pitcomlie been his, he would have worshipped every stone of it. He MAY, knew all its associations, historical and other wise, to the family ; but yet he dared go no further than to ask humbly whether she too thought it— ugly ? His mental servility was such that, if Matilda had said " Yes," boldly, no doubt he would have acquiesced. " Well, isn't it ?" said Matilda, with a momentary feeling that she might be committing her self. " Verna thinks so, I'm sure. And then it is of no use ; and what is the good of keeping an old place without a roof, or windows, or any thing, full of rats, and I daresay snakes, and all sorts of creatures. That is what I hate about ruins. I suppose there are no scorpions in this country ?"

" No, nor snakes either," said Hepburn, relieved. " I see now why you dislike it. There is nothing of the kind indeed ; and old Mr. Charles Heriot used to keep the ruins in capital order. The old house has so many associations, you know — to the family." " Oh yes, to the old family, I daresay," said Matilda ; " but I don't know anything about their mouldy old ancestors. Verna has such a pretty M AY plan that she drew herself — a beautiful long drawing-room, with a nice range of windows opening into the garden, and those new ribbon flower-beds that are so pretty, just like the border of a shawl, close under them. You must see the plan. Verna has quite a genius for that sort of thing, and she says it would give such character to the house." '• But then Miss Bassett is not the lady of the house," said Hepburn.

" She cannot feel as you do, who are the representative of the Heriots. Of course she does not care about the associations as you must do." " Oh no ; she can't do anything at all unless I like it," said Matilda, " of course. I let her do a great many things, because she likes fuss and bustle, and I don't. I let her manage the servants, and order the dinner, and all that. But of course it is only because she is my sister. She has no power over anything unless I say she may have it. Everybody must know that." " It is like you," said Johnnie, admiringly, " to put yourself aside so as to indulge your MAY sister. It is exactly what one might expect from you ; but perhaps in happier circumstances, when you feel a little more interest in these secondaiy matters " " Do you think she takes too much upon her?" asked Matilda, quickly.

" Oh, you need not be afraid to speak ! She is my sister, to be sure, but we have been separated so much, and I quite know Verna's faults. It is quite her way to take too much upon her. If you think she is setting herself up as the lady of the house, or anything like that, I shall put a stop to it at once." This put Johnnie into an unfortunate position, for he could not allow it to be supposed that he was finding fault with Verna, or undermining her with her sister. He said hastily : " Oh, no, I had no such meaning. I thought perhaps — if you were to exercise your own judg ment you would be kind to the old house. We are fond of all traces of antiquity here ; and I have a special love for those old gables, and the roofless walls, and narrow windows — " " Ah !" said Mrs. Charles, archly, " we know M A Y, why that is.

Because you were so fond of the old family. And of course Marjory was devoted to all that old stuff." " No, indeed !" said Hepburn, blushing and stumbling in his words; "indeed you mis understand me. I admire the ruin for itself, and I like it for its associations, without — Of course I have the highest respect for Miss Heriot." " Oh yes, indeed — the highest respect ! I like that !" said Mrs. Charles. " I wonder what Marjory would say if she heard you ? Oh, yes, even if you did not blush and look so conscious, we have heard all about it, Mr. Hepburn. When is it to be ? And I wonder if she likes you being here so much? If I were in her place I shouldn't, I tell you frankly. If I were in her place " " Pray don't speak so," cried poor Hepburn, really distressed. " I am not so fortunate as to be able to hope that Miss Heriot takes any interest in what I do.

Very much the reverse. She has always been like the moon and the stars, quite above my sphere." M A Y. 13 " Oh, you are a gi-eat deal too humble," said Matilda, quite excited with this congenial subject, " but you ought not to come here so much if you want to please Marjory. I am sure she hates me. That sort of superior solemn kind of woman always hates us little things. Perhaps because the gentlemen like us," Mrs. Charles added, with a momentary giggle. Then remembering her role, " Dear, dear," she said, with a sigh, " to think I should talk such nonsense ! as if what gentlemen thought mattered any more to me." Hepburn could not but press gently to his side the soft little hand that rested on his arm. How charming her simplicity was, her naturalness, the light-heartedness of her youth cropping up in spite of her grief!

" I hope, however," he said, " that you do not think us quite unworthy of consideration — for that would be hard, very hard upon us." " Oh, no," said Matilda, ".indeed I always say frankly that I like gentlemen's society much the best. Women are so jealous of you, and so nasty M A Y, in their ways. I don't pretend to be very clever, but I do like to be with some one who is clever. And one feels at once the superiority when one hears gentlemen talk. It is so different from our chitter-chatter. Isn't it now ? I like to have some one I can look up to," said the woman, who was a fool, looking up, with all the skill of her folly, into the face of the foolish young man who was intellectual. Oh, poor Johnnie ! He had a dim notion in some corner of his mind that what she said was silly, and yet he was ready to fall down at her feet and worship her.

The silliness quite achieved his downfall. He had been wavering, all but conquered ; but now the final coup was given to him. He murmured something in sudden delirium, he did not quite know what. Neither did Matilda know what it was ; but she knew that she might henceforward guide him at her pleasure through all the ways of imbecility. She had snatched him from Mar jory, too, which was a great addition to the pleasure. Marjory was clever, and Verna was clever ; but here was something they could not do. MAY. The conversation was interrupted at this beatific moment by the appearance of Verna, important and full of business as usual. " Dr. Murray is in the drawing-room," she said, " and you must come and see him, Matty. They are the first people that have done more than leave cards; and you would not see them when they called last time.

He is the clergyman. You must come now." " Clergyman ? I suppose you mean the Scotch Minister," said Matilda. " Why should I go ? I have nothing to do with him. You don't suppose I shall go to his miserable old conventicle. Go and see him yourself, Verna. You under stand that sort of people. I am engaged ; am not I engaged, Mr. Hepburn ?" she said, smiling upon her new slave. But Johnnie was not destitute of the prejudices of a man born in the East Neuk. " Don't you think you could see him ?" he asked with hesitation. " He is a man of some distinction. He is a very well-known man, and he was a great friend of Mr. Heriot's — " " Oh, one never will hear an end of the old MAY family," said Matilda, " but if he is such a great person I suppose I must go. I always thought a Scotch Minister was a kind of Dissenter — oh, do tell me, Mr. Hepburn !— just for the poor people, a sort of man that would not take the liberty of calling.

I am so ignorant, don't be disgusted. I know I am silly ; but I will pay such attention to what you say." Johnnie led her in, and expounded to her how matters stood. He gave her a sketch of Scotch ecclesiastical history, which was quite brilliant, so eager was he to make himself under stood ; and Mrs. Charles clung to. his arm, and looked up at him, and said " Yes !" with little notes of admiration. What a quick pupil she was ! he thought. Needless to add that Matilda was just as wise at the end as at the beginning. and, in short, paid not the slightest attention. It was thus that they entered the drawing-room. Verna followed closely behind. When Matilda appealed so sweetly to her companion, " Am not I engaged, Mr. Hepburn ?" a thrill of alarm had passed through Verna's soul. Could it be possible that the word meant more than met M A Y. the ear?

Had the flirtation which Verna had encouraged, by way of diverting Matilda and keeping her occupied, already come to a serious issue? It was incredible. Charlie was not yet six months dead, poor fellow; but the sister, who knew Matty, was alarmed, and followed closely, with all her senses about her, watching and listening. A mixture of wonder, admiration, contempt, and partial envy, filled her mind. Nobody knew so well as she what Matilda was ; to think that any man should be such a fool ! Verna, it must be remembered, used very plain expressions. And yret she admired her sister for this one thing which she could do, and which Verna herself could not do. She admired, and wondered, and half envied. How did she do it? Aud how was it that other people could not do it ? And oh ! what a fool the man was! VOL. III. C IS

Chapter II

Mrs. Murray was standing in the middle of the drawing-room in a state of dismay. The change which had come over it was greater than the actual transformation. One soul had gone out of the place, and another, a totally different soul, had come in. I suppose if this could be done with our bodies, we should cease to recognise even those familiar garments of flesh and blood. The furniture was the same, the old walls were the same, and yet the place was different. The Minister had found on the table, spread out to invite attention, Verna's new plan, made out in very bright colours, which caught the eye— aud was reading to his Wife the words " new wing, MAY, on the site of old tower," with a tone of con sternation impossible to reproduce. The good people had come with friendly meaning to do what they could for the two young stran*gers, whom they were sorry for as having been thus suddenly thrown into a new country without any knowledge of its habits and traditions.

" Depend upon it, my dear, it is chiefly gaitcheree," Dr. Murray had said, with a very broad accent on the last syllable. " Half of what is called rudeness is just shyness— and so it must have been in this case." The excellent Doctor said this as a compliment to Mrs. Charles's beauty, which precluded the idea of impertinence on her part. Mrs. Murray had not seen Mrs. Charles, and therefore was unaffected by her beauty, but she accepred the suggestion as possible. Marjory was no doubt hasty, and Miss Jean crabbed, and very likely " the young women at Pitcomlie" were only gaudies — not intentionally disagreeable. But when Matilda entered, leaning on young Hep burn's arm, Mrs. Murray was confounded. Johnnie Hepburn ! he whose hopeless devotion c M A Y, to Marjory had been known over all the country — who had written verses under so thin a disguise that no one could possibly mistake it, to her, in the " Fifeshire Journal" — who had tormented all her friends with offers of service, and who finally had come here upon Marjory's business a messenger from her !

Matilda did not relin quish his arm till she had reached the centre of the room, when she performed a curtsey to her guests. " Excuse me if I put up my feet," she said, as she placed herself on a sofa. The Minister's wife could do nothing but sit and look at her, so entirely was she taken by surprise. Naturally it was Dr. Murray, as the most important person, who spoke first. " I hope you have quite recovered from the fatigues of your journey, Mrs. Charles Heriot ?" he said. " Sad as it was, and sore as this home coming must have been, I hope you have now settled down. It is a favourable time of year for this part of the country, and I may say, under Providence, that it's a very good season. We have had more bright weather than MAY, 21 ordinary, and everything is looking very well. I hope you are beginning to like your new home ?"

" Yes, I suppose it has been good weather for Scotland ; but not at all like what we have been used to. I think sometimes I shall die of the cold," and she muffled herself closely in the shawl which she had thrown off on coming in, " and the children feel it so very much." " Oh, but it's new life to the children, my dear ! You'll soon find that," cried good Mrs. Murray, " though yours are very young to be sure. Myr eldest daughter's children have just come to the Manse, from the Bombay Presidency. Poor things, they were white enough and miserable enough when they came, but since then they have flourished every day." " Oh, indeed," said Matilda, with a stare; " but my children have always been taken such care of ; and they feel the cold very much." As if our bairns were not well taken care of!

Mrs. Murray said to herself, and she was wroth in her heart, and concluded that this was more M A Y than gaucherei, whatever the Doctor might say The Doctor was not quite so easily dis couraged. " When you have been here a little longer," he said, " and have got used to our ways, you will find it a pleasant neighbourhood — a very pleasant neighbourhood. St. Andrews is not too far for a drive, and there are a great many very agreeable families — " " Oh, I shall never care for the Fifeshire society. They must be so stiff and so dry," said Matilda ; " and then they are all such friends of the old famity, and set against us — " " My sister means," said Verna, " that people have not been very nice since we came. We have had a great many cards, but nobody has really paid us a visit, except yourselves."

" They would think she was seeing nobody," said Mrs. Murray, softly, " and very natural ;" but once more the Doctor made himself the spokesman, drowning the gentle voice of his wife. " I have always heard," he said, " that there was a natural stiffness about our Scotch manners ; MAY, 23 but Mrs. Charles may be assured, and I take it upon me to say so, though I'm not a rash man by nature, that all that will soon disappear before her . face. I hope it was not impertinent to look at the plans on the table. They are, perhaps, for some house in England ?" " Oh, no, indeed, for this house," cried Verna, delighted. " This drawing-room, you see, is not much of a room, and that horrible old ruin close to us does so frighten my sister." " Frighten her ! why should it frighten her ?" cried Mrs. Murray.

" You're not meaning the old house?" She turned to Hepburn with a look of dis mayed inquiry, and he dared not say anything. How could he say a word that would cross that beautiful sensitive creature? but at the same time he had the fear of ridicule before him, and of the two people both looking at him, before whom he did not wish to show how foolish he was. He compromised, and fell between two stools, as was natural. " Mrs. Charles has taken a — repugnance to it. I have been telling her it was on a mistaken MAY, idea. Snakes and scorpions don't exist in ruins here. That is why she is nervous," faltered Hepburn. " Oh you naughty Mr. Hepburn." cried Matilda; " you know you confessed you did not care a bit about the ruin, except for . But I will not tell upon you— you confessed it was nothing but association ; and as I never associated with any body here " Dr. Murray was too much absorbed to notice this last speech ; he was solemn, and not to be trifled with.

" Do you know, Madam," he said, " that this is a very serious thing you are thinking of doing, a very serious thing indeed. Father and son have preserved the old house of Pitcomlie as long as I can remember. It was habitable in my young days—" "That's true," said Mrs. Murray. "When I came here a bride, the old Laird— not the late Mr. Heriot, but his father, who died soon after led me on his own arm to the best room, that was over the great door. The old lady of Pitcomlie was dead, and he had no woman-person, except MAY, the servants, in his house. It was a very hand some room, and but for its old age it's that still ; and I would do a great deal myself before I would see it pulled down." " I assure you," said Verna, " there is no other way of doing — and then to us, as my sister says, it has no associations; besides, it is not beautiful, and of no use ; and it is there the new wing must be built."

" Does Mr. Charles know ?" asked the Doctor solemnly7. " Oh, please don't talk of Mr, Charles !" cried Matilda, vaguely perceiving that her side was having the worst, and beginning to cry ; "it re minds me so of my poor dear Charlie. I cannot bear to hear the name. Please call him old Mr. Heriot, or something. When I think how I am left alone to struggle with everything, and poor, poor dear Charlie, who never would let the wind blow upon me ! Please don't talk of the old man by his name — please !" Mrs. Murray's kind eyes were quite moistened by this appeal. " No, my dear !" she said soothingly ; " no, my MAY, dear! Well, well do I know the feeling; and when I mind that dear boy — what a fine fellow he was— just the age of my Robert! Many and many a time I have held him in my arms. Oh, my dear, I beg your pardon !" cried the kind old woman, rising — with the tears dropping from her eyes, to kiss the young widow on her sofa.

Ma tilda did not know what compunctions were ex pressed in this. caress ; and, to tell the truth, she submitted with a very bad grace to the salute, which she rather thought was a piece of pre sumptuous familiarity on the part ofthe Minister's wife towards herself, a lady of property. The Doctor, however, this time resisted the beauty and the tears, and was less easily moved than his wife proved herself. Beauty is a fine thing, and tears are touching ; but an assault upon property — property which, to a certain extent, is national, the antiquities wliich give importance to a parish — is not to be permitted even on such considera tions. Dr. Murray was alarmed. If this was done in the green tree, what would be done in the dry ? The Heriots of Pitcomlie were the chief heritors in the parish ; and what if they should M A Y, take upon them to interfere with the church or churchyard ?