Among the Bracken

Chapter I

It was a May morning — a morning breathing the dewy incense of Spring, choired by singing birds, whose many voices rose and fell in waves of harmony. The little village of Dallochan seemed asleep. Its wide street stretched out in the early sun light, past the Manse lying back from the road embowered in trees ; past the blacksmith's forge, where the hammer was still ; past the ancient Inn with white, old-world face ; past the church, whose hoary grey tower showed a softened outline in the misty air ; past the churchyard, with its sentinel tombstones for ever guarding the quiet dead ; past rows of yellow-washed cottages, whose roofs still gleamed dark with moisture ; past Dr. Lindsay's house with its gravel sweep and grassy lawn, within the en circling stockade of its laurel hedge. Here AMONG THE the road curved and descended sharply to the bridge which spanned the river Quarroch.

Over the bridge it rose again, passing the field gate which led to The Mains farm ; thence skirting wood and meadow, birken brae and moor, it reached away — away into the sylvan country beyond. As morning slowly left the east, the black smith's anvil awoke the slumberous stillness. Cottage doors were opened, and the clatter of busy housewives rose on the air. Laban Loney, the doctor's gardener, came slowly down the middle of the village street. Laban always walked in the middle of the road ; he found, in so doing, an unconscious solace for the narrow sphere in which he lived. All his life he had longed to expand, to " spread " himself; but lack of ability, or the hard and fast dictates of Fate, had prevented. These outworn aspirations now expressed themselves by a desire to have room enough — the middle of the road, or an empty bench by preference.

He was bent at the shoulders, but carried his head straight, and " looked the whole world in the face " through a pair of shrewd grey eyes almost hidden in a mass of eyebrow and BRACKEN wrinkles. Laban's age was a doubtful quantity. He had always been old — the passing years seemed to leave him untouched. He was dressed in corduroy breeches, met by thick blue ribbed stockings, a sleeved vest, a wide-brimmed battered hat, and usually carried a rake in his large horny hand. Laban Loney had never married. For this there were various reasons. The question of sufficiency of room for himself, and his ideas, had not been without its influence. His matri monial leanings had for many years been divided between Rachel, the doctor's cook, who was a widow, and Hannah, the minister's housekeeper at the Manse.

Either had in his varying moods appeared so desirable that he had never been able to make his selection. When Laban walked down the village street, he always glanced from side to side with the air of a proprietor ; indeed, he firmly believed that, were his vigilant eye withdrawn, things generally would go to "rack and ruin." Nobody in the doctor's household ventured to interfere with or question his authority, unless it was Miss Alison, the doctor's younger daughter ; but she was no respecter of persons, t 12 AMONG THE doing what seemed good in her own eyes, — and they were such pretty eyes that much could be forgiven them. The tread of Laban's heavy feet showed a dark track across the dewy covering of the lawn at Braeside, as he carried his tools over to commence work, though the sun was playing such havoc with the dewdrops that before many hours were sped not one would remain of all the millions sparkling there.

As he walked across the grass, Laban caught sight of a basket and a pair of garden-gloves, and a heavy frown further ridged his already furrowed brow. "There noo," he muttered, dumping down his tools by the edge of the border, " she's been at it again ! Eh ? " peering anxiously and angrily at some tumbled soil and a few bulbs still lying unburied. " There noo ! Roots ! an' at this time o' year ! Gude preserve me, whar's the sense o' weemen ? What yon fule Adam wanted wi' a woman in his gairden when he had it a' his ain way aye beats me ! What for could the buddy no let weel alane. Ever sin syne a woman has jist been a curse in a gairden, an' that's a' aboot it." BRACKEN " What's the matter, Laban ? " asked a clear young voice from behind. Laban did not turn at first. He had a very distinct, though unacknowledged certainty that, whatever he might say, Miss Alison would get the better of him, not by force of argument, but by a sweet imperious unreason which he could not withstand.

As a man, though an old one, he was well aware he could not resist the win some vision that would greet his eyes when he chose to raise them from that offending flower bed. " What's aye the matter whan weemen folk tak' tae interfering wi' what they ken nae thin' aboot," he grumbled, half under his breath. " What ! My poor bulbs are at fault ! Just look at me, Laban. Just look at me, and say I have no right to muddle about among the flower-beds if I have a mind to." Laban's reluctant glance rose slowly up the skirt of a grey tweed dress, over a white flannel blouse, fastened at the throat by a dainty pink ribbon, past a rounded chin, a curved smiling mouth which arched over snowy teeth, and paused at a pair of bright luminous eyes — full, limpid, blue as the ocean, clear as the river pools where the trout lie — in which as through an open window might be seen the play of happy feeling and changeful emotion which looked frankly out from their depths.

Now they were sparkling with fun ! " Pawky blue were then yer e'en," says the old song, and such were Alison's. A slow smile dawned on Laban's face. " It's muddlin', that's just what it is. Mud dlin'! Pittin' in roots at the en' o' May." " Then let it stand at muddling, and reach down for me that bunch of white lilac," pointing to a bush close by. As Laban reluctantly held the branch for ward, Alison selected some choice blossoms, saying as she did so, — " If you only knew how much nicer you look when you are amiable, Laban, I am quite sure you would never frown again." " 'Deed, Miss, it's little ye care for the frowns o' onybuddy." "That's quite true, Laban ; therefore it seems all the greater pity you should make yourself ugly for nothing. Thank you ! You can put my basket away and tidy up.

I don't expect BRACKEN I shall want to put in any more bulbs ; as you say, perhaps it is rather late." " A said it waur fair rideeculous ! Roots is roots an' maun " " Quite so, I see it all. By the way, I hear Mrs. Girran has let her rooms at The Mains." " Aye, a while back." Laban stuck his spade in the border, and leaning heavily upon it, his usual prelude to a long talk, went on delibe rately — " Noo a say that roots " " Just so. Have the people come ? " " Aye, a week sin syne." " But they were not at Kirk on Sunday ? " "Maybe they'll no be kennin' the value o' ordninances. Noo, as I was sayin', roots " " Nonsense, Laban ! Never mind the roots. Who are they?" "Jist twa godless young men, Miss Alison, come for the fushing, an' should be nae business o' yourn ava'. Noo roots " " Yes, you may clear them all away, and put my basket in the tool-house."

So saying, Alison Lindsay tripped back over the lawn to the French window of the breakfast parlour, leaving Laban still leaning on his spade, with the word "roots" galvanized on his tongue. Breakfast was an early meal at Braeside, and Alison found Aunt Jane presiding over the table. Aunt Jane was Dr. Lindsay's only sister, who at the time of his wife's death, some ten years previously, had come to console her nieces in their trouble, and relieve them for the time from the burden of household cares. She then proposed vaguely to take a house in the neighbourhood, hinting that her advice and assistance were indispensable ; but the existing arrangement seemed so satisfactory — especially to Aunt Jane — that the ideal house became indistinguishable from Braeside, and her visit prolonged itself indefinitely.

Dr. Lindsay was the youngest son of the late Laird of Drumquarroch, which small estate lay in the neighbourhood of Dallochan. From natural inclination he had chosen medicine as a profession, but was not dependent upon his practice, having married " money," sufficient when conjoined with his own means to yield him an easy competence. On the death of his wife her fortune was equally divided between their two children, Sarah and Alison. Being B BRACKEN free when a young man to follow his inclina tions, he had elected to reside in his native village, where he combined a small practice with much fishing. If ever any question arose as to which of these pursuits should suffer, the practice went to the wall. Good-natured, easy-going, cheerful, suffici ently skilful in his work, in the habit of ex pressing his opinions with freedom, tempered by kindliness of heart, he was generally liked by his neighbours and loved by the poor, on whose behalf he was alone known to lay aside his rod when its claims conflicted with their needs.

If he had a thorn in the flesh, it was his sister Jane, whose narrow, puritanical notions and ways would sometimes rouse his wrath ; but partly from a love of peace, and partly out of consideration for her, he used some care not to run counter to her prejudices. There was a sharp contrast between his two daughters. Sarah, the elder, had trained as a professional nurse. She was six years older than Alison, who was at this time nineteen. A tall, dark, queenly woman, her gracious presence carried balm and consolation into many a home. In her long cloak and veiled bonnet she might be met at any hour of the day or night in the village, or on the hillside, visiting cottagers whom illness had stricken, or hastening to minister to the wants of some sick child. During the years of her training in Edin burgh, Fate had met her in the person of a young and handsome man, who had wooed, won, married, then deserted her.

She had not consulted her family in regard to her marriage ; self-willed and passionate, she had gone her own way, and paid the penalty of a life's happiness. She returned home a broken-hearted woman, whose sole consolation was to minister to the wants of others. After the first bitter meeting with her father, no words were ever spoken between them re garding the past, but his rancour was deep against the man who had offered this insult to his child. The post of village nurse was vacant, and longing for some definite work, she offered her services, which were gladly ac cepted ; and soon there was scarce a joy or a sorrow within the parish of Dallochan unshared by Mrs. Delwyn. Alison, the younger daughter, contrasted BRACKEN strongly with her sister, both in appearance and character. Her hair was golden-brown, and her large, deep-blue eyes sparkled with vivacious merriment.

She was generous, warm hearted, impulsive, with a somewhat high-strung, sympathetic nature, whose chords were always ready to vibrate in unison with the moods of those she cared for. Her character was rather immature for her years, partly owing to the secluded life she had led, and perhaps in some degree on account of a tendency in her nature to late development. At times she would appear yet to linger on the sunny shores of childhood, and the passing reversion from the woman to the girl lent her an indescribable charm. This phase often showed itself in a playful wilsulness which gained its ends by the sheer force of its humorous audacity. In ordinary affairs she was shrewd and practical, and very capable of conducting and directing such household affairs as fell to her management. Up to this time she had felt no " mission " in life further than to make her home happy, to fill that little spot of earth where she dwelt with sunshine ; and, indifferent to the higher walks of intellect or science, or the rival claims of conflicting " isms," had gone her simple rounds of duty and pleasure with no sense of narrowness or of longings unfulfilled.

She was her father's idol, her sister's pet ; even Aunt Jane yielded reluctant homage, tempered by much fault-finding. " Dear me, child, you have wet your shoes," was her greeting, as Alison entered the breakfast parlour that lovely May morning. " They are thick ; it doesn't matter," returned the girl. " Let me cut the bread. Dad's late." " No, he isn't ! " cried the doctor from the doorway, which his rotund, dapper little figure filled like a full-blown peony. "Late indeed!" coming behind Alison where she stood by the table, and giving her turned cheek a sounding salute. " It's like your sauciness to say so. Isn't this a morning to satisfy the gods — if they ever went a-fishing ? " " Don't be profane, Gilbert," interrupted Miss Jane. " Surely to goodness one may speak of heathen gods without being considered pro fane !

" BRACKEN " Oh, if those you referred to were heathens, Gilbert, that is another matter. All the same, any heathens I have seen pictures of in mis sionary books had very little on, and I don't consider such people fit to be introduced into ordinary conversation." The doctor looked at Alison, winked adroitly, then burst into chuckling laughter. " Jane, my dear, you are as good as an iron mixture ! I'll back you against a tonic any day." Alison pinned a spray of lilac in her father's coat, and turned the conversation. She knew just how far her father might go without giving Aunt Jane offence, and was always ready to step into the breach. " Have you seen anything of the young men who are lodging at The Mains, father ? " " Yes, I saw one of them up the river yester day." " Did you speak to him ?

What is he like ? " " Alison," interposed Aunt Jane, " your ques tions are scarcely delicate." " Rubbish, Jane ! Let the child alone. We don't have floods of visitors in Dallochan, eh, lassie ? " " That we can afford to treat them with the cold contempt they doubtless deserve," added Alison. " Well, go on, father." "I just gave him 'good-day' in passing. He's a decent enough looking young chap — middling at the fishing, I'm thinking. Eh, Alison, but the river '11 be grand the day. Just the right sort of haze, and after yester day's rain I wouldn't wonder if I brought you home a salmon. A salmon, lass ! " The doctor rubbed his scant hair, and beamed round the table. " There's Sarah ! " cried Alison, who faced the window, and jumping up she called, " Come in here, dear ; we're still at breakfast."

Mrs. Delwyn came in through the French window, and, greeting her father, laid aside her cloak, and drew a chair to the table. " I'll have some coffee, please," she said to Aunt Jane. " You're tired, Sarah," remarked Alison quickly. " I was up all night." " I wish you would be more considerate, Sarah," began Miss Jane. " It is so unnecessary to tire one's self ; no one thanks you for BRACKEN it. One may slave and slave, and really get no thanks at all." " I don't think I want thanks," returned Mrs. Delwyn, a sad smile flickering across her mouth. " I am thanked when my patients re cover." " How is the poor soul this morning ? " asked the doctor. " Better ; she slept a little, and now I have come down to ask for beef-tea, and to take you back with me, father." The doctor's face clouded ; he screwed up his eyes dismally.

" I'm not going, Sarah." " Oh, but you are," returned Mrs. Delwyn with confidence. " You must come and give me the weight of your authority. I must know if I am doing right." " I tell you I'm not going ! The idea of giving up a morning's fishing — and such a morning — to see a stupid old woman who has been fool enough to catch typhoid fever ! It's nonsense ! I can't do any good. You know as much about it as I do." " All the same, you are coming, father. I cannot take all the responsibility, and now she has turned the corner you must see her. Let us compromise. Alison can ride up later with the beef-tea, we can take the dog-cart at once — you will be back in an hour and a half." " Just the best time in the day," grumbled the doctor, his discomfiture almost comical. " Who would be a doctor ?

Not I, I'm sure, if I had my life to begin again. You can't call your soul your own for one single minute, day or night. Always liable to be hustled out of bed in rain or snow ! It's the life of a slave ! " Alison laughed as she pushed back her chair, and, going round, put a hand on either side her father's screwed-up, comical face. " Was he miserable, then ! " she cried. " Go away, you disrespectful child ! " he tried to growl. " You have no sympathy for me, not a bit." " Indeed I have. I would doctor the whole parish, if I might ; but I question if either Sarah or the minister would approve of that." " The minister indeed," went on the doctor ; " he's another that expects me to trot out at everybody's beck and call." " Well, he does it himself." BRACKEN " Yes, yes, I daresay, but he's a young man.

When people come to my time of life, they should be allowed to do as they please." " And it always pleases you to be kind, Dad," returned Alison. " Oh, I daresay, I daresay, flatterer," cried her father ; but a smile came into his eyes, and he kissed the sweet face so near his own.

Chapter II

When Mrs. Delwyn and the doctor had driven off in the dog-cart, Aunt Jane began, as was her wont, to potter over the breakfast table, accompanying the process by a running commentary. " I'd better put these things thegither, for if Rachel has yon beef-tea to make, it will take all her time, and I must just send Laban down to the flesher's. He needn't get good steak, that would be real extravagant ; just the shin will do well enough. Dearie me, this cup's cracked ! If I wasn't here to see after things, my belief is you would all be in the poorshouse in a month." " We might arrive at that earthly goal, Aunt Jane," returned Alison, who was arranging the lilac she had gathered in a large vase, " but the process would scarcely be so rapid. Shall I tell Laban?" I wish you would. He always seems so BRACKEN disinclined to do anything I ask, though he is a God-fearing, decent man, I quite believe."

" It takes a lifetime to get used to Laban's ways, Aunt Jane. He is quite harmless." " Oh, I don't doubt that. I always respect a man who attends religious worship so regularly, though he may lack other amiable qualities." Before Alison reached the kitchen, she could hear Rachel's voice raised in expostulation, and smiled as she realized what was going on. Rachel was a buxom, personable widow of fifty, who had years ago aroused matrimonial intentions in Laban's breast, and had it not been for a counter attraction in the minister's housekeeper, Hannah, she would ere now have reigned mistress of his " but and ben." But Hannah had appeared at the Manse in the time of a former incumbent, and Laban's alle giance then became divided. Rachel had the advantage of personal attractions, for Hannah was spare and decidedly sallow ; but, as com pensation, she had thrown round her the sanc tity of the Kirk, and this had no small influence on Laban's affection.

Suspicion of feminine wiles, and some doubt as to his capacity to fathom them, made him distrustful of the fair one who for the time being was in his vicinity, and inclined him favourably to the absent. This state of affairs naturally produced a slight strain in his relations with Rachel, which, however, usually discharged itself harmlessly in wordy warfare that yielded them mutual satisfaction. " What's a wheen carrots ! Auld anes tae ! " Rachel was crying, " ca' yersel' a gairdner ! 'Deed I'd be gey an' shamed gin I waur you, an' hadna something better tae gie folk than a pickle carrots ! " " Hoots, woman ! Ye ken naethin' aboot it ! " " Dae I no ? I ken it's spring, when a' things grow just like — like Jonah's gourd," retorted Rachel, at a loss for a simile. " Dinna tell me ! I ken mair than ye think.

It's jist that ye canna be fashed tae pleesure folk. A wheen carrots, indeed, frosted tae, I hae nae doot, and fushionless as an auld kailrunt ! " " Gude save us a', woman, I'm no Providence — wi' reverence be it spoke — tae mak' new tatties in December an' apples in June." " Oh, we'll be satisfied with much less than that, Laban," said Alison, coming into the kit- BRACKEN chen between the combatants. " See, Rachel, the woman Mrs. Delwyn is nursing wants some beef-tea, and you must make it. Laban will put down his carrots, and go for some beef to the flesher's ; won't you, Laban ? " " It disna seem tae me I hae muckle choice, Miss Alison. No that I min' daein' onything in raison for you," he added ; " but it sort o' rakes a buddy up tae see folk sae senseless as Mistress Rachel there — threepin' at me aboot the spring !

Dootless she wad like tae see me come marching in wi' Brussels sproots and sybies in May." " Never mind her now, Laban ; off you go to the village. And, Rachel, don't be unreason able ; we can do very well with carrots to-day, and I daresay Laban has some asparagus for us to-morrow." Laban slapped his thigh. " There noo, that's what I ca' common sense. There's as gude a dish o' sparrigrass as onybuddy need wish tae see jist waitin' the word. I'll bring it in the morn." So saying, he trudged away, feeling he carried the honours of war, and left an indebted household behind him. By noon Alison, mounted on her pony, rode off on her errand of mercy, the beef-tea care fully slung on her saddle. Fair, sweet, and gladsome, she faced the spring air as it blew the brown tendril curls about her face, and, shaking the reins, set off at a brisk canter.

She glanced about her as she rode, marking the retreat of the wild flowers and where the birds had their nests in the hedgerows. Halfway up the hill-side she passed a small lad seated on a bank, and, drawing rein, called, — " Bobbie Girran, is that you ? " A tiny boy about six years old ran quickly down the grassy slope, and stopped beside her " What are you doing here ? " she asked. " Takin' a wheen bannocks tae Mrs. O'Neil's." " Oh, are you ? Well, I shouldn't have thought it. Never mind, I'll carry your parcel, as I'm going there. Are you tired?" " A wee thing," returned the boy, glancing up shyly. " Now, do you know, I believe the pony could carry us both ? Would you like a ride ? ' "Wad I no?" His eyes danced with delight. BRACKEN " Well, give me your parcel, and your hand. Place your foot on mine — that's the way !

Now here we are, as nice as ninepence, and we can walk the pony and talk the rest of the way." The boy, seated on her lap, gazed first at her, then at the pony's head, in rapt admiration. He was a pretty little fellow, scrupulously clean, his yellow hair brushed, his cheeks shining from recent soap. " Well, bright eyes?" said Alison, smiling at his rapt gaze. The boy still seriously regarded her. " It's you hae the bricht een," he returned, as though this conclusion had been arrived at after much deliberation. Alison laughed, blushed, and kissed the firm rosy cheek nearest to her. " You are quite a courtier, Bobbie.' "What like's that?" " Oh, somebody who says very pleasant things nicely." " Then that's yersel'," — with conviction. " So you are big enough to run messages for mother now, are you ?

" " Aye, whiles, whan she's thrang." "You have some new lodgers, I hear." " Ay, twa " ; then with a sudden access of interest, " Ane o' them cotched a big fush. He gaed it tae mither." " And what did the other one do ? " " Naethin'. He never daes onything but bide at hame. Mither says he's no weel. Miss Alison ? " Yes, Bobbie." Whan ye're no weel dae ye sweer? ' I hope not, Bobbie.' "Weel, he sweers awfu' whiles, an' talks an' talks. I can hear him when mither thinks I'm sleepin'. She says it's just a' Madge Mason. Will she be a witch, I wonner ? " " I daresay," returned Alison absently. She had lost present interest in Mrs. Girran's lodgers, for at that moment they came within sight of Mrs. McNeil's cottage, and the minister stood by the door. The Reverend John Hasteltine was a man about thirty, of medium height and athletic build.

His clean-shaven, clear-cut face, with its rather wide mouth, indicated forceful purpose, checked by an innate gentleness of disposition. His eyes were dark grey, merry and alert, his short-cut hair curled in tiny persistent waves, BRACKEN while his nationality asserted itself in the somewhat high cheek bones and square fore head. He had been incumbent of Dallochan parish church for nearly five years, and, though during that time offers of better livings had come to him, he had scarcely even given them consideration. He was happy at Dallochan ; the people loved him ; he had found the way to their hearts ; and when he mounted the pulpit on Sundays, he felt that he was addressing friends. Such a community of feeling is seldom attain able, and he justly prized it. He was captain of the village eleven, and played with his team on Saturday afternoons and there was not a lad among them who did not yield him unstinted respect and affection.

All this was more to him than money, or the eclat of a fashionable parish in Edinburgh or Glasgow. There was another reason why John Hastel tine stayed on at Dallochan, and that reason was before him as Alison drew rein by the gate of Mrs. McNeil's cottage. " Hullo, Bobbie ! Having a ride, are you ? " he cried, coming down the little flight of worn, grassy steps to lift the boy from the saddle. " Good-morning, Miss Alison." " Take care of his parcel ; it is bannocks," she said, with a smiling nod of greeting. " And will you relieve me of this beef-tea ? Thank you ! How is the poor soul ? " " Better, I believe. Your sister seems quite cheerful about the case now ; says the worst is over. Your father also has been most good." " I met the dog-cart returning near home. He only waved a frantic hand to me.

Dear old Dad ! If fish were fossilized, he would also become extinct." " To have enthusiasms is the secret of en joyment." "Yes, I suppose so. Have you any?" " How can you ask, Miss Alison, when you see me playing cricket on Saturdays and preaching on Sundays ! " " Oh, of course, being a minister you have to preach, but I can't imagine why you should like it." Can't you?" Mr. Hasteltine rested his arm on the pony's neck, and looked into Ali son's face. " I am sure, if you felt the weal or woe of any one depended on what you might BRACKEN say, you would be very earnest about the say ing of it." " I daresay — but preaching ! Well, if I must say what I think — I think it is very cheeky of any man to stand up before those who probably know a vast deal more than he does, and lay down the law. I don't see why he should suppose he knows more of God's will than other people."

"Ah, it is the law that rankles! Well, I don't know that I care very much about laying down the law. I like to feel I can reach the people's hearts, their sympathies ; that my words and my voice thrill them, and together we mount into a clearer, purer air, where we breathe the sweetness of heaven." " You are eloquent, I know," returned Alison, half regretfully. " You thrill even me some times, but what's the use of it all ? If you do take people up to breathe the sweetness of heaven, they have to come down again. The atmosphere is too rare up there ; our lungs won't stand it." "But don't you think it helps and cheers us to feel that touch of higher things " " A change of air, you mean." " You are flippant, Miss Alison." " Nay, I did not mean to vex you ! There, I won't say any more, for you and I never agree on these matters."