A Misguidit Lassie

Chapter I

It is a fine, breezy, vigorous day towards the end of August. The sun is shining down upon the hilly moors of Inverness-shire with luminous intensity, utterly oblivious of the fact that there has been a slight frost this morning, that the wind is blowing sharply across the heather, and, in short, that fair summer will not be induced by any amount of warm sunlight to visit the earth again this year. On a splendid rocky hill in this same count}7 of Inverness shire, covered with heather, fragrant bog-myrtle and treacherous patches of rainbow-tinted moss, there is, at present, only one person visible. A Hieland shepherd, of course, with his faithful collie, or an indefatigable son of Anak — telescope in hand — spying deer? No; it is neither of these. It is a £ E little girl, a brown-haired, rosy damsel, plodding diligently right up the hill.

She has a large and astute-looking collie at her heels — like the shepherd in that respect. She struggles up almost to the sky line, and then pauses to look at the view. Hills everywhere — hills bare, rough and formidable — end less chains, which yet do not suggest the idea of captivity, they are so wild, so free and grand. In the midst of them, however, there is buried a bright valley, looking as though nature, ashamed of her own strength and granitic sternness, had taken her paint box and showered upon this little flat surface all her tenderest colours. The ripening corn gleams fitfully in loving reflection of the varying sky ; the grass is brilliant green ; the tiny white cottages glitter under the sun-god's smiles. One would have expected the little girl's eyes to rest on this valley, and that its beaming beauty would have suited her mind.

No ; she scanned the mountains around her, she scarcely glanced below, and when she did it was only to exclaim eagerly — ■" I am higher up than I have ever been before — glorious ! " Just at this moment the keen brown eyes caught sight of another pedestrian climbing the hill. He had a gun and looked business-like. The little lady appeared rather confused by this apparition, for she remarked with rising colour : " I !■] A MISGUIDIT LASSIE. 3 detest men in the abstract ; one would think nature was made only for them. I believe I am not on my father's ground. What shall I do now?" The question appeared to be a difficult one, for the only answer to it was a puzzled frown. Bang — bang ! The sportsman had put up a fine covey of grouse. At the moment of his raising the gun to his shoulder the young girl started and threw herself on the ground, until, knowing that two shots are all that can be expected at once from one gun, she felt her life safe, at any rate for an instant, and uprose cautiously.

" It is all very well, but he was aiming straight in my direction, and is walking as fast as he can just now, with two pointers ahead. I shall get into a scrape if I am discovered here. Shall 1 run away ? No use — I am in full view." A bright idea occurred to the young woman. She made a bold rush to the cairn at the extreme top of the hill — reached it, and hid behind it. For a short time the plan succeeded finely, for the sportsman strode along quite unconscious that a dark pair of feminine eyes were fixed on him. But alas ! the girl had reckoned without her dog, who after sitting demurely for a moment, flies off, barking loudly, to the very place where the professional dogs are just pointing. A red flush of distress crossed E A MISGUIDIT LASSIE. [chap-. the girl's face. She clasped her hands with a theatrical whisper of " Cuthullin, come back — oh, Cuthullin !

" But Cuthullin affected a sudden deafness, and — culminating horror ! — rushed in amongst the grouse > scattering them right and left, after which heroic deed he proceeded to challenge both the excited pointers. His poor little mistress could control herself no longer — she had a genuine love of sport — and she came from her fortress, the cairn, and stood wildly calling her recreant hound. As for the sports man, he stood opposite to her and not far off, as astounded as if he had been shot himself. Only for a moment though. Then he gave vent to some passing strong language, and sprang forward towards Cuthullin, gun poised in air, with fell intent. " I say, stop that, if you please, sir ! " shouted a clear voice apparently from the sky. The gentleman started, lowered his gun, and stared vaguely upwards with his head thrown back.

"Let that dog alone, and I'll come down," cried the same agitated voice. The gentleman assumed a large pince-nez, and, by dint of careful scrutiny of the whole hill side from cairn to high road, he at last discovered a slight figure running towards him. " Here I am," gasped the girl. "So I see," replied the sportsman sternly. "You ought not to be here. This— this dog of yours—" I-] A MISGUIDIT LASSIE. 5 " Has frightened away your game — I understand," hastily interrupted the fair owner of the dog ; " but that is not so much his fault as mine." "Are you aware — " recommenced the sporting gentleman implacably. " That I am trespassing ? " cheerfully continued the irrepressible maiden ; " yes, I know. In England I dare say I should be fined some five shillings or so. I'm afraid I have no money " (feeling in her pocket), " but if you will come to my father's — Sligachan Lodge — to-morrow morning — at least, no, you gentle men are out all day — in the evening then — you shall have the money."

A twinkle came into the man's eyes. " All right, we will consider that settled. And now you must go please, and your bru — " " Dog," corrected the girl. " You and your dog must leave this hill at once ; you have disturbed the birds already." " Dear me ! " put in the merry maiden, sympa thetically. " You are, moreover, in danger of being shot." " Oh, indeed ! Then sir, I am afraid I must trouble you to conduct me down to the road in safety. I have not yet arrived at the natural termination of human life, and I should be sorry if my lease were to expire so abruptly." A MISGUIDIT LASSIE. [chap. The sportsman hesitated. He couldn't tell a lady that he preferred his amusement to her life, although it would only have been the plain truth if he had said so. There was no help for it. His companions were shooting all over the hill, and if the lady was nervous, why then duty called him to hei assistance.

" I will go down with you, Miss — may I ask what is your name ? " " Antoinette Raynor," responded the girl ; " and yours, sir ? " " It is a peculiar name " soliloquised the gentleman. " Whose, sir ? Yours or mine ? " " Yours. Are you French, or English ? You don't speak Scotch." " I am English, but my maternal grandmother," answered Antoinette pompously, " was of French extraction. I derive my Christian name from her." " Oh — ah — indeed ! Yes," was the somewhat embarrassed rejoinder. " I really fear I must trouble you to — to leave this ground." " Yes ; I am quite ready." Antoinette fastened her handkerchief to Cuthullin's collar, and prepared to descend. " You have not told me your name yet, sir. " Oh, I am the Laird." " Indeed ! and which Laird ? " I-] A MISGUIDIT LASSIE. 7 " TJie Laird," with emphasis — " Tarn na Tapitty Gabbert."

" Oh 1 " They went on now in silence for some time. The Laird was striding down the steep brow of the hill as rapidly as his sturdy Scottish legs could carry him, feeling rather awkward in his novel position as cicerone to a lady. Poor little Antoinette did her best to keep up with him — leaping down the rough parts, running, and tugging reluctant Cuthullin after her. Occasionally she fell fairly down over the tufts of heather, and had to pick herself up unaided by the "discourteous knight" before her; for the Laird, whose only thought was to have the audacious little trespasser off the premises as soon as possible, stalked on with intense concentration, looking neither to the right nor to the left. But when Antoinette lay for the third time prone on a churlish rock, she indignantly addressed her guide : " Really, I think you ought to help me up, Laird."

" Oh, I beg your pardon," and the Laird proffered a strong hand to the prostrate damsel. " Now I must wait a moment to rest," panted Miss Raynor ; " I was hurt that time. Just look at the view — " she burst out, casting a comprehensive glance from her fine eyes. "Was it to see the view that you took all this [chap. 8 A MISGUIDIT LASSIE. trouble to come here ? " inquired the Laird, w7ith true Hieland indifference to scenery. " Why not ? Look at the river there in the glen, how it dashes along over the great stones, sapphire blue and deep and cool, with pearly, whirling foam. It is sublime ! Worth coming here to see." "Ah, yes; exactly," quoth the Laird, thinking of the sport he was losing, and preparing to proceed. " Excuse me ; but you ought to offer me your arm, or hand, or gun. I can not keep my equili brium when we go tearing down rough ground at this pace."

Antoinette was getting a little irritated with her brusque cavalier. However, the Laird begged her pardon again, and, seeing that it was best to behave politely and so rid himself the sooner of his fair companion, he gave her a supporting arm and even offered to lead the dog. " That is a great concession, which I know how to value," laughed Antoinette ; " but I prefer to keep Cuthullin to myself. He shall not chase the grouse, depend on me." Another space of ground is successfully cleared, when for the fourth time Antoinette falls down, this time dragging with her collie and cavalier. The Laird rose first, rather exasperated and bruised. " I assure you, Miss Raynor, you had much I.] A MISGUIDIT LASSIE. 9 better give the dog to me. You are not strong enough to hold him. Let me take him ; I will be very gentle."

Cuthullin was consigned to the tender mercies of the Laird, and after this there were no more catastrophes. Directly they reached the road, Antoinette with drew her arm from the Laird's, made him a graceful mischief-curtsey, and said, "Good-bye, and thank you for your kind escort, sir. I am only sorry that you have to climb such a long, long way up again. Don't forget to be at Sligachan to-morrow for the five shillings." And with these words the maiden turned round and ran away in quite a scientific manner, her loose grey cloth skirt offering not the slightest hindrance to her rapid movements. Cuthullin followed, shaking his handsome head, as if to make sure that it was at last free from the Laird's restricting hand. The Laird, gun in hand and pointers at his side, did not make such instantaneous use of his liberty as might have been expected.

He stood looking with honest admiration at the fast retreating figure of the pretty young girl. " I'll go for those five shillings," he said em phatically. Now that he was out of the sight of those frank brown eyes, out of range of that clear voice, tremulous with suppressed mischief, he began to think, not only that Miss Raynor was a decided " character," but also that she was rather charming. He wished he was better at talking to ladies, and that he had the art of replying to their grave witticisms and covert hits. He wished his mother had taught him to be less shy. The Laird gave a moment to such unwonted thoughts and then started to ascend the hill again, soon forgetting rosy maiden and queer adventure iD the prospect of sport.

Chapter II

In the sitting-room of a large, commodious shooting box, belonging to the Sligachan deer-forest, Antoinette Raynor and her father were waiting for the sports man to come and claim his due. The five shillings were in a little bag on a table close to Antoinette, whereon is also a kindly tray bearing tea and scones. Antoinette herself was lying back in an arm-chair, dressed for the evening in a long flowing robe of some soft creamy-coloured texture. Her dark hair was not hanging in curls as it was the day before, but piled up in a thick wreath of braids. There were some pink roses fastened at her throat, just pale enough not to spoil the rich red colour in her cheeks. Seen thus, Antoinette is a pretty creature, joyous and fascinating. She was now, not for the first time, laughing over her yesterday's freak with Mr. Raynor — a dignified, white-haired gentleman, who stands with his back to the comfortable peat-fire, relishing his daughter's merriment.

" Father, you should have seen us ! To begin with, he was as grumbling and bad-tempered as possible, and before long he is retracing his laborious steps with me on his arm, leading by my pocket handkerchief the dog that he had just been wishing to destroy. Oh dear, I shall not forget it for a long while ! It shows how we women can come round men — surly creatures as they are." Antoinette threw herself back on her chair and laughed — a long, racy, soulful laugh that it was good to hear. Mr. Raynor, however, shook his head and remarked reprovingly : " My naughty daughter, it would be much better for you to practise your talent for ' coming round ' people on some more definite object than an un suspecting sportsman whom you have never seen before." " I am not always in a coaxing mood," replied Antoinette, still laughing.

" Here he is ! " she exclaimed, as the bell rang and Cuthullin began to bark suspiciously ; " now I must compose myself." Accordingly, when the Laird entered, still in shooting costume, but strangely neat, and looking rather abashed, Antoinette was ready to rise and receive him with gracious ease and perfect gravity. " My father ; the Laird," was her brief introduction. " How do you do, Mr. Macgregor?" said Mr. Raynor, h.] A MISGUIDIT LASSIE. 13 heartily shaking the stranger's hand. " I am glad to make the acquaintance of a near neighbour, I believe ? " " I am glad too, but — but my name is not Mac gregor," responded the Laird, raising his eyebrows perplexedly. " Indeed, sir ? I beg your pardon. My daughter and I have only just arrived in Scotland, so you must excuse our ignorance. Why, Antoinette, what made you tell me that this gentleman's name was Macgregor ?

" Antoinette came forward from behind a curtain, whither she had retreated to conceal her enjoyment of the situation, and said : " You see, father, the Laird did not acquaint me with his name, so as he is a Scotchman, I concluded that it was either Macgregor or Mackenzie. Am I not right, sir?" addressing the Laird. " Not exactly," said that gentleman, smiling, " see ing that my name is Caergnent." " Dear me, how unfortunate ! " said Antoinette with well-acted dismay. "And why so?" "Because I instructed the servants to address you as Mr. Mackenzie, to make sure of some of us hitting your right name." " Antoinette," said her father, " stop teasing and pour out for Mr. Caergnent a good cup of tea as some compensation for your evil deeds. You must not mind her mischievous ways, Mr. Caergnent," continued Mr. Raynor, " she is incorrigible.

By the by, I hear she has been trespassing — disturbing your game and otherwise misbehaving." " Yes, indeed," replied the Laird, gathering courage, and trying to look grave as he faced Miss Raynor's laughing eyes. " That is what I came here about. Where are my five shillings ? " Antoinette demurely handed him the little silken bag that lay near her. " Count them, please, to make sure that they are correct." The Laird with a puzzled expression took the bag and poured out the contents like a resounding torrent on to the tea-table. They were all halfpennies ! The freakish girl had been round that morning to all the cottages in the neighbourhood, and had with infinite zeal collected one hundred-and-twenty halfpennies as change for the five shillings. Mr. Caergnent looked from the pile of coppers to Antoinette in mute embarrassment.

Antoinette gravely offered him the scones. Mr. Raynor scolded his daughter as well as he could between bursts of laughter. This little incident put the Laird at his ease. He had at first scarcely recognised in the courtly lady before him the gamesome little girl whose runnin g II.] A MISGUIDIT LASSIE. 15 he had yesterday admired. Now there was no doubt about it ; Antoinette might be as changeable as Proteus, but she would still be in spirit the maiden of yesterday. Therefore Mr. Caergnent spent a pleasant evening. He was persuaded to stay for dinner. Miss Raynor was in high spirits the whole time. She played on her violin to him (the Laird did not care for music, but there is always something entertaining in a lady's performance on the violin). Then she challenged him to a game at chess — would not attend, but made jokes all the time and played shockingly, so that the Laird won and felt a pleasant sense of complacency.

After ten o'clock he rose to go, and Antoinette slipped into his unwilling hand the expansive five shillings, murmuring in guileless accents : " But I icish you had counted them."

Chapter III

It now becomes necessary to make an attempt at describing our capricious little heroine. But it is not easy at any time to describe a human being — to make, as it were, a catalogue of his virtues and his vices. Man is so infinite, so inconsistent, and withal such an unfathomable mystery, even to his bosom friend. WThat do you know of that man at your elbow ? You may think you have known him all your life, ay, and studied him too ; and yet can you tell what thoughts are in his mind at this moment, and whither his soul has fled in this one instant since he spoke ? You cannot even discern whether his last words were true or false, spoken from conviction or only from passion, exaggeration, or timidity. Every man is a dark riddle to the whole world — pos sibly including himself. Well, but if a man is such an enigma, what shall we say of women, with their quaint, shy ways, and their little tricks of seeming to be carried away by natural impulsiveness to say III.]

A MISGUIDIT LASSIE. 17 more than they wish, whilst really holding back in strict reserve the one thing you want to learn from them ? Perhaps the best clue to the characters of our fellow-creatures is to be found in the outward cir cumstances of their lives. A man is not necessarily what events make him ; some men of strong indi viduality dominate their " kismet," and yet the cir cumstances of their sphere of action do act upon them, moulding and changing them in manner if not in heart. Therefore let us review Antoinette Raynor's early days to see what allowances and what reprobation her conduct subsequently demands. Edgar Raynor's wife died when Antoinette was a very young child. Not that the little daughter cared much — not she ! Antoinette looked awe-struck when she saw her father's stern, worn face ; hushed her merry laugh when her nurse and Aunt Ishbel came weeping into the room, and that was all.

She made at first some untoward inquiries in a petulant manner as to why " pretty mamma had been smothered under the grass — had she gone to that dreadful hell that nurse was always talking about ? " — and so on. Then, as soon as her mourning dress had ceased to be tight and uncomfortably neat, little Antoinette took to her bricks and her locomotives with renewed cheeriness and vigour. Mr Raynor remained for a C long year wrapt up in his sorrow, for his wife had been a sweet young woman, and he had been one of those interesting phenomena, a devoted husband. His mind was roused at last by an important question, namely, his daughter's education. Antoinette had got on so far very well with no book-learning, save the daily ten minutes of the alphabet inflicted by nurse. But this easy-going rigime was inter rupted at last.

One day Mr. Raynor, passing the nursery, heard roars, and then a fall. He went in and discovered his much-prized and only child lying on the floor in convulsions. After the doctor had been summoned and had " exhibited " the hot bath, after a full half-hour of wild terror for the father, and blank, motionless insensibility on the child's part, Antoinette revived, and, trembling, stretched out wee arms to Mr. Raynor. The fact was briefly this : the nurse, an excellent woman, a " treasure," but passionate withal, had beaten her little charge and threatened her with so many bogies and "big ugly " things, that Antoinette, after a valiant battle of fists and heels with her indulgent nurse, had succumbed screaming, and had cried herself, as ex citable children will do, into a fit. " It was all the alphabet that did it," whispered the baby from the secure haven of her father's arms.

Mr. Raynor began to see that an uneducated woman is scarcely III.] A MISGUIDIT LASSIE. 19 competent to undertake the instruction of a clever and wilful child. But his experience did not profit him much, for after careful thought the only conclusion he deduced was : Dismiss nurse at once, and send for Ishbel. "Ishbel" was Mr Raynor's only sister, a matronly woman of nearly forty. The Raynors were not Scotch, but this worthy lady had once had a romantic but ill-fated love affair with a Hieland laddie. From that time Isabella Raynor was Scotch. She lived in lodgings in Inverness ; learnt Gaelic, changed her very name to Ishbel, and even went the length of cultivating a marked Highland Scotch accent. Well, many of us have our hidden romance of long ago, of which we never speak and perhaps never have spoken, but which has lent a strange tint to our life, and made us take up with odd and foreign views.

It is so with our humble selves, and it is so with our great ones. Find out a man's private life, and his public career flows out of it as a matter of course. But instead of preaching sermons it might be better to mention that the excellent woman we were talking about came to England promptly at her brother's request. In three days Edgar Raynor handed her out of his carriage — collie, Skye terrier, boxes of oat-cake, and plaid shawls inclusive. Miss Ishbel sat down, smelt the little bunch of c honey-sweet heather in her hand, groaned over the " heavy, foggy, smoky " English air, and then began without more delay on the topic of interest to both. " Dear laddie, what you must do is this. Let me have a try at teaching the bairn. I will begin with telling her hymns and paraphrases and pious stories ; then, if you wish it, brother, she will have a turn at the Church catechism, although, mind you, I infinitely prefer that of the Free Kirk of Scotland."

Just then in darted wee Antoinette, laughing glee fully, and asking, " Auntie Ishbel, have you brought me the marmalade, and some flies for fishing ? Have you got that ugly little snarling doggie still ? Why did you bring him ? He bites." " Poor Ishbel," thought Mr. Raynor ; " if she thinks to tame that precious child with paraphrases, she is much misled. Ishbel was always an unpractical woman ! " Unconscious of any absurdity in her proceedings, the good Ishbel began at once with her course of education. But " the bairn " was more than a match for her well-meaning aunt. Not one of the pious paraphrases could Antoinette be brought to learn. She would only laugh at the long words, and pretend she could not understand them. In despair, Aunt Ishbel abandoned her Caledonian poets and took to Dr. Watts.

No use ; Antoinette obstinately adapted III.] A MISGUIDIT LASSIE. 21 the words to the tunes of " Robin Adair " " The Campbells are coming" "The Vicar of Bray" — no matter what — and went singing them about the house, to the scandal of the domestics, and the secret delight of her father. As Aunt Ishbel was too tender-hearted to scold, she at length appealed to her brother. Mr. Raynor came into the study and sternly placed his erring daughter on the window-seat, bidding her apply herself unto wisdom. Antoinette, who always submitted to her father, from a strange mixture of instinct, sympathy, love, and fear of his undeniably severe ways, began to learn the apportioned hymn. Finding it soon dull, however, and tiring of the land scape and the quarrelling sparrows outside, she began furtively turning over the pages for variety, learning a line here and there, with a view (if the gruesome truth be known) of laughing over them afterwards with the old coachman.

Suddenly her father called her up to say her lesson. Antoinette dared not say that she had not learnt two lines, so she stood up and came forward, hastily trying to find the right place in the hymn-book and to cast a last glance at her task before she gave it into Aunt Ishbel' s hands. Then she stood close to Miss Raynor (to look over her shoulder if it should be practicable) and waited. She waited in hopes of what idle students unite in vulgarly terming a "boost." Pardon me this expression, ye who never needed prompting at school or in society. Those who have known the joy of a sudden whisper of assistance will easily forgive me. But Ishbel was mute, so Antoinette, desperate, stood on one leg with the foot of the other clasped in both hands (this is a position much in use amongst children when embarrassed) and began in a slow and monotonous manner to recite : " There is a dreadful hell below, I have been there and still would go ; " then, reassured by an irrepressible laugh from her father, she hid behind his coat and murmured : " I don't quite remember all the rest of the hymn."

Mr. Raynor afterwards screwed up his courage and said to his sister : " Ishbel, my dear, I am sadly afraid that this won't do. You see my baby is a most impish and naughty one, and evidently requires managing. You cannot even make her sit down quietly and try to learn anything. I must really engage a governess for her. I suppose they all have had experience in tackling such brats." Ishbel sighed, and said : " I don't put much faith in your English teaching lassies. They will be for giving the wee bairn those profane, spurious novels to read before she knows where she is." 111.] A MISGUIDIT LASSIE. 23 But Mr. Raynor, being an obstinate man, stuck to his purpose, and a governess came, and he repented bitterly in a month. The views of this governess, Miss Veronica Lofty, were directly opposed to those of poor, unsuccessful Aunt Ishbel.

She scouted the ideas of hell which Antoinette had imbibed, but entertained a lurking belief in purgatory. Her high church principles clashed with Ishbel's doctrines, and Antoinette, like the evil imp that she was, made fun equally of both. In a month Miss Lofty found her situation unendurable. She was a dark, zealous lady, who had no tact and no self-control. She did not box her pupil's ears like nurse, but did what was far worse both for herself and Antoinette — she cried, scolded, coaxed and stormed, all in quick succession, and all to no purpose. Antoinette never tried to win her teacher's heart, or she would have succeeded, as she invariably did in such enterprises. No, she showed her worst side, and was utterly exasperating. So Miss Lofty and she parted on the score of " mutual incompatibility of temper."

Mr. Raynor sighed with relief (for the house was quieter now), recognised his mistake, and began to turn his fine talents and sound education to some use, for he took his daughter in hand and taught her himself. I do not say that Edgar Raynor gave his daughter the usual fine ladies' education, for he was not very expert with his needle, nor could he paint tame little nosegays in water-colours. He grounded Antoinette most thoroughly in Greek and Latin, and would have taught her mathematics, only Antoinette's density in regard to numbers was profound enough to discourage even her proud father. The only accomplishment Antoinette learnt was violin-playing. Her father was a good violinist, and Antoinette was a quick scholar in music, so she learnt to play very well on that beautiful, but sometimes excruciating, instrument.