Duncan Moray, Farmer

Front matter

DUNCAN MORAY FARMER BY SOPHIE F. F. VEITCH Author of 'Angus Geaeme, Gamekeeper,' ' Jamis Hepburn, Free Church Minister,7 ' The Dean's Daughter,' etc. ' The rank is but the guinea stamp, The man's the gowdfor a' that.' En -Sine -Volumes VOL. I. ALEXANDER GARDNER pnbKeljrr to "fenr fllajtsts tijf tatuen PAISLEY; and PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON CONTENTS. Chapter Page i. — The Stirring of Stagnant Waters, - 1 ii. — A Ninety-Year-Old Mystery, - - 21 in. — Miss Elliott of Beechwood, - 40 iv. — A Sheep of Doubtful Hue, - 61 v. — Farewell to the South, - - 89 vi. — The Spell of the North, - - 120 vii. — The Head of the Family, - - 139 viii. — Aristocracy and Plutocracy, - - 166 ix. — A Crowned Old Age, - - 187 x. — Is She an Original? - - 214 xi. — The Cost of Social Advancement, - 230 xii. — An Old Sorrow Wakes and Cries, - 255 xin. — The County Marvels, - - 275 xiv. — Lady Sinclair, - - 300 xv. — Strange Symptoms, - 330 xvi. — A Thunderbolt, - -

Chapter I. The Stirring Of Stagnant Waters

spHE A*illage of Rossan was not a very large one, but it was prosperous beyond the lot of most villages of its size in Scotland, its main support being an extensive granite quarry, worked by a wealthy company. Stagnant periods were rare, and wages were paid with the regularity of bank dividends. Illness, accident, or old age, might bring destitution into Rossan cottages ; otherwise it was due only to idleness or drunken ness. Rossan possessed not only prosperity, but great beauty of situation. It consisted of two fairly regular rows of houses, lining the sides of a high road, Avith an irregular fringe of dwellings scattered about behind them. It stood just AA7here the high road crossed the head of a broad valley, so per fectly level to the very foot of its encircling hills, that there could be no doubt it had been, in pre historic ages, overflowed by the sea, now some miles distant.

Where once the salt waves had foamed and danced, and sea birds had screamed, were now fertile meadows, in which sheep and cattle browsed peacefully, fields heavy in harvest time with golden grain, patches of wood, and here and there scattered trees of magnificent growth. Nor was the beauty of water awanting to the scene. Clear, SAvift, and strong, the Corran, leaving behind among the lonely hills its deep, dark pools, brawling Avaterfalls, and sparkling shallows, Avound its tortuous course through mead and copsewood in a steady flow onwards to the sea, and was Avell beloved of many a lordly salmon. It swept close past the Avestern end of the village, and constituted, in fact, its chief water supply ; at least a plentiful and ever-changing one, if some what promiscuously used. The valley lay neaiiy due north and south, and behind the village the ground rose steadily, spreading forth luxuriant vegetation to the genial influences of a southern exposure, until cultivation gradually disappeared in a wild tract of mountain country, where the rugged, picturesque outlines of a granite formation, rich in the late summer and autumn with the glowing tints of great stretches of purple heather, swept downward to meet the viA'id green of rowans, or softer shades of feathery birches, sturdy oaks, and stunted thorns, shadowing the course of the foaming burns which made ceaseless music in deep dusky glens.

The granite formation extended only down the western side of the valley. On its eastern side the hills were smooth and undulating, and, like the slopes northward from the "village, were well culti- Arated, picturesquely wooded, and dotted over with farmhouses and cottages. Opposite lay a very different scene. There bold crags jutted out from among pine woods, clustering thickly over the sides and summits of the hills, and standing sharp and dark against the sky in lines as fantastic and irregular as the edges of a bank of rolling clouds, while more than one ragged rent in their sombre expanse showed where some huge boulder from the loftiest crags had, at some time, carried all before it in its headlong course to the valley below. Near to the head of the valley these rugged westward hills were abruptly sundered by a romantic glen, at the very entrance to which, on its southern side, the steep scarped faces of the granite quarry showed themselves among the woods.

Some distance further up the glen, on the northern side, stood Beeclnvood House, a quaint old turreted Scottish country house, half buried in the pine woods. It was a somewhat gloomy habitation, for there was more of cold shadow than cheerful sunshine in that lonely glen, but not with out a wierd beauty of its own, on even the gloomiest winter day. Given the glen as its site, the position of the house had not been injudiciouslv chosen, for a sudden dip in the hills, just opposite to it, let in upon it more light and sunshine from the south than any other part of the glen enjoyed. The church stood on the slope behind the village, and a little higher up was the manse, fondly claiming for itself the proud prerogative of possessing the finest view in all the neighbour hood. Such at least was the theory of Mrs. Fordyce, the minister's Avife, a small, sharp-featured woman, good natured, but sometimes waspish, and always a gossip ; Avho, if she did not tie with her tongue knots her hands could never undo, at least marred therewith the beneficial results Avhich might otherwise have resulted from many kind actions.

Those who wished to stand well Avith her agreed with her respecting this claim of the manse; those who had the smart of caustic remarks to avenge, Avere apt to stand out for the superior claim of Craignellan, a farmhouse standing somewhat eastward of the village, at a consider ably higher level than either it or the manse. Rossan was always a fairly alert village, at least in fine weather ; the roadway swarming Avith children and dogs, the cottage doors with clusters of more or less slatternly looking women, discussing the newest piece of gossip, aud keeping Argus watch on the doings of their neighbours. But one fine afternoon about midsummer, the moral temperature rose to fever heat of excitement. Mr. Elliott, the old laird of Beechwood, had that very day ended a lingering illness by dying with sufficent suddenness to take Rossan by surprise, and consequently unprepared with theories and rumours as to what was to happen next.

More over, Duncan Moray had ridden through the village at a sharp trot about midday. There seemed to be no end to the variety of patterns and designs in which these two simple occurrences could be interwoven, and tongues were wagging fast in every corner of Rossan. The most ani mated discussion was going on round the door of Mrs. Hamilton's cottage. She was a matron of high coloured visage, surmounted by a mass of fiery hair, generally in a marvellous state of dis hevellment, who in right of her semi-public position, as bellman's wife, was tacitly alloAved a sort of precedence in all questions of gossip. ' I doubt the auld man gaein' aff sae sudden '11 hae ta'en the Morays by surprise,' she was saying. ' I wadna say but Duncan's awa the noo to Kirkness, to see Dempster.' ' Hoot, woman,' retorted a neighbour, ' Demp ster's the auld laird's factor.

It'll nae be to him the Morays '11 gang.' ' Dinna ye mak' sae sure o' that. Wha but Dempster can tell him aught aboot the new laird ? I'll no say but it may puzzle Dempster himsel' to find him. They do say the auld laird wadna suffer his name to be mentioned in this presence. Like eneuch naebody kens whar he is.' ' They say,' put in a younger woman, ' he's nae mair nor a laddie, an' that he's aAva in India.' ' Pack o' nonsense,' retorted Mrs. Hamilton, con temptuously. ' Weel, folk are sayin' it, ' Ay. Folk like yersel, that have na ken't Rossan mair nor a few years. What sud ye ken aboot the auld families ? The man ye mean is heir, sure eneuch, if so be the man that's laird noo has nae son. But that's just what naebody kens. I was speerin' at my mither yest'reen. She says him that's laird noo maun be fu' sixty years auld.

She minds him weel aboot Beechwood as a laddie But there's been ill blude between him and the auld laird this mair nor forty years, and he has ne'er been near han'. Mither says she doubts they'll likely hae to advertise for him yet. Gude save us ! There's the minister ! ' The gossips disappeared with the rapidity of a group of frightened rabbits, to muster afresh else where when the peril was passed. As is usually the fate of gossips, they were wrong. Duncan Moray had ridden through Rossan in total ignorance of the fact that the illness of the laird of Beechwood, not hitherto deemed au immediately dangerous one, had that very morning suddenly taken a most unfavourable turn ; and though his destination was Kirkness, his business was nothing more interesting than the procuring of some medicine for a cow which was ailing.

The house at Craignellan, Adam Moray's farm, was a substantial well built dwelling, somewhat cold and stern of aspect, as Scottish farm houses are wont to be, with excellent farm buildings at a convenient distance from it. The whole appear ance of the place was significant of order and good management, but the masculine element was strongly in the ascendant. Everything was neat, trim and tidy, but there was little attempt at decoration. The grass round the house was close cut, and the shrubs Avere well pruned, but there were few flowers, and a garden seat, placed close to a magnificent weeping ash, was a structure of most uncompromising solidity and accuracy of right angles, such as no Avoman would haA'e tolerated for a moment. Within the house the same negation was even more obtrusively ap parent.

A room furnished as a dining room, with excellent well kept furniture, and a smaller nonde script room, in which boots jostled business, and guns fraternized with great coats, were the only sitting rooms. The feminine element was solely represented by evidence of no stinted cleaning and polishing. It was a house carefully tended by a Avoman, for the sole benefit of men. That fact was perceptible at a glance. On that summer afternoon when the attention of Rossan had glanced obliquely off Beechwood with so much interest in the direction of Craignellan, the only occupants of the farm house were a middie-aged woman and a strong servant lassie. The elder woman was busy with the girdle, and a pile of scones was being added to a stack of oat cakes on the white kitchen dresser. The girl was flitting in and out of the house, occupied Avith all the mul tifarious items of farm-house work.

At length, during one of her temporary ab sences, the sound of a heavier tread than hers was heard approaching the house, and a man entered the kitchen, whose firm step and active movements almost seemed to belie his snowwhite hah* and beard, and the tell tale lines on his face. He was tall and thin, but a broad built muscular man, whom many a younger one might have hesitated to face as an antagonist ; and whose strong reso lute face harmonized well with his general aspect of both bodily and mental vigour. ' Duncan nae hame yet ? ' asked the Avoman, looking round as he entered. ' He's coming up the hill the noo ! ' Ye'se best pit aff yer boots here the day, Craig nellan,' the woman said, with a someAvhat rueful glance at the intruder's feet, which certainly indicated that his rambles had not been confined to roads. ' Mary's doin' up the Avee room, and she's no had time to finish it.

Yer slippers are under the dresser.' Adam Moray submissively obeyed, and seating himself by the dresser drew out the strong leather shoes Avhich were dignified with the name of slip pers, and began operations on his heavy boots. While he was thus occupied another footstep drew near, and his son Duncan entered the kitchen, somewhat splashed with riding, but altogether much less objectionable in the eyes of a cleanly housewife than his father, just fresh off a tramp over ploughed land, and other objectionable com ponents of a thriving farm. He was a powerful man, full six feet in height, and of somewhat hea vier build than his father ; a handsome man, too, Avith light brown hair, beard and moustache, clear blue eyes, and a fair complexion Avhich, seeming able to answer the assaults of the sun by merely colouring without growing coarse in texture, gave a certain refinement to his appearance. ' Did ye hear aught o' Beechwood?' the old man asked, looking up from his boots as his son en tered. ' He's gane ! ' Do ye say so ?

I wadna thocht it wad be sae soon.' ' Nae mair did the doctors. They tauld Gilles pie yest'reen they'd little hope he wad Avin through, but they did not look for much change for a while yet. He took an ill turn about the break o' day, an' they've been waiting on him ever since. He died about three o'clock.' ' Weel, weel,' replied Adam Moray, ' he's been sair failed this last year past. But it's a pity to think o' an auld man like yon having livit a' his days sae as he'll nae be missed noo he's awa.' ' Deed, Craignellan,' exclaimed the scone maker, 7 ye're wrang there I doubt. Ye sud pit " mourn ed " for " missed." I doubt he'll be missed eneuch, but wi' man o' gladness than o' sadness.' ' That's as may be, Joan. Time will show. But folk had best be in nae hurry wi' either their sadness or their gladness, until they see what's to come.

It's nae often things are that bad they canna be worse. I've ken't o' worse lairds than auld Beechwood.' ' Nae doubt o' that, since ye ken't o' the wicked Colonel,' replied Joan. ' But I doubt the new land wad hae to be near as bad as him to be worse than him that's gane. The Elliotts have no muckle to boast in the way of gudeness, but they've maistly been decent livers.' ' Whisht, woman,' exclaimed the old man sternly. ' The auld man's gane before a juster Judge than you or me. It boots to be silent ower what's nae concern o' ours.' The woman muttered something inaudible, in a half impatient, half contemptuous tone, aud a sharp glance from Duucau Moray's steady eyes fell upon her, the Avhich, however, being at the moment occupied in turning her scones, she did not observe. ' Do ye think things will be worse, father ? ' he asked. ' Do ye ken aught o' the new land ? ' ' Not I, Duncan.

It's likely I may have seen him as a laddie, but I've nae mind o't. The ill blude between him and his cousin is a far aff story noo, and he's never been near hand since. I doubt if onybody rightly kens what it was Avent Avrang between them.' ' Ay,' ye're richt eneuch there,' put in Joan. ' I was doun speerin' for the laird yestreen, and I asked auld Nannie Blair. She's been about Beech wood a' her days, and minds the new laird weel as a laddie. They a' think the auld land never liket him ower weel. He was nae favourite, proud and stiff in the temper. But nane o' them about the place ever ken't just what went wrang. It was something when he was at the college, and they do say he had to get oot o' the country for a while. But naebody kens rightly.' ' He'll likely heir a barren inheritance,' said Duncan Moray. ' I doubt he'll get naught the auld land could leave awa' from him.' ' An' part o' that will be the Rig Mains.

Ye'll likely get it noo, Craignellan, for but a trifle.' ' Time eneuch to talk about that when we ken hoAv things go,' replied the old man. ' Hoot, man,' exclaimed Joan impatiently, ' ye sud be to the fore first start, Wbar' wad be the use o' a bit o' land to ony man that could na get at it save by the leave o' ither men ? Ye're naught but a gomeril if ye're no ready to mak' the best bargain ye can for what's justly your ain the noo.' ' I'm no sure ye're just a judge about that matter,' replied Adam Moray, rising from his seat. ' Ye dinna just ken a' about that business. An' noo ye can let us have tea as soon as ye're fit. I'm tired and thirsty.' He left the kitchen as he spoke. His son lingered behind him. ' Joan,' he said, as soon as his father was out of hearing, ' ye must'nt speak that way to my father.

Its no' the first time lately I've heard ye speak to him in a way I dinna like. He's master here, remember.' The woman coloured angrily. ' What wad ye hae Duncan ? It pits me fair mad to see him tak' things sae coolly.' ' Ye can be as mad as ye please, I'm no objecting to that ; only ye must keep yer tongue in order. My father's growing an auld man, and it's no but likely Ave may have to try an' manage him a bit, as time goes on. But he's aye to be spoken civilly and respectfully to ; sae just remember.' He had seated himself as he spoke, and began to take off his own boots, understanding from his father's action that this was one of the days when Joan, bristling with household utensils, came down, like a wolf on the fold, upon the untidiness of the little room, and left it a stem solitude of un impeachable order and cleanliness.

Joan took refuge in tears, giving vent to an audible sob now and again, and Aviping her eyes a trifle osten tatiously Avith her apron. But Duncan Moray did not quail before these aAvful symptoms. He deliberately finished his operations and rose to leave the kitchen. Then Joan Availed out. ' I never thocht to hear ye speak that gait to me, Duncan. I suppose ye'll be for mari*yin', an' want me to gang. But ye might tell me fan* oot, an' no try it on that gait.' ' Wha's the gomeril noo ? ' was the unsym pathetic rejoinder. Then he added, kindly, ' Don't be a fool, Joan. Ye ken fine neither my father nor I'll ever forget ye've been a kind friend an' faithful housekeeper to us since ever my mother died. Ten years ago, I'd have minded less how ye spoke to my father, but when a man's growing auld, an' nae sae fit to haud his ain, it boots his son should be extra careful he's treated wi' proper respect.

Auld folk get a bit fashious in their ways whiles, sae its weel to stop sharp speaking at the first set out. Noo get in the tea. The auld man's had a long tramp, and I see he's tired.' With that he followed his father to the dining room. Adam Moray was sitting beside the table, with his head leaning on his hand, in a somewhat despondent attitude. Duncan laid a hand gently on his shouldei*. ' Dinna ye trouble yer heid father, wi' things ye dinna care to think about,' he said, with a peculiar gentleness of intonation, always more or less apparent in his address to his father. ' But I'll no say but she's right, Duncan. Ony Avay she is about the position o' the land. There's nae finer piece o' land in a' the county, but it's not worth the price o' a bog to anyone save him who B owns either Beechwood or Craignellan.

If it's left awa' frae the new laird, which is pretty certain, there'll be nane to bid for it but him an' me ; and it's like eneuch, if he rightly ken't hoo the matter stood, he'd no bid against me. But I dread raking up a' the business again. It was a heart break to me an' yer uncle Robert to see the havoc brooding ower it worked in oor father.' ' An' are ye wanting to bring sic a heart-break on me ? ' asked his son, with a smile. ' Na, na. I hope it wadna come to that. But the thocht o' the past has aye made me dread thinking aboot the matter. It's dear prosperity that's bought wi' the souring or hardening o' a man's nature.' ' Weel, just ye think nae mair about it the now, father. Where's the use o' troubling over the matter, until we ken if there's a will.' ' There's safe to be one, for the sake o' they Edinburgh folk.' ' There's no telling.

Folk sometimes put it off till too late. If there's nane, the matter's just where it's aye stood. If there is, there'll be time enough to think about it when we ken wha gets the unentailed land. Folk do say he's got rid o' every bit, save the Rig Mains. We've dune weel enough wi'out that a' these years, an' we'll do weel enough wi'out it in the future.' ' But if ye marry, Duncan, ye'd be the better o' mair land.' ' Time enough to think o' that when I'm thinking o' marrying. Here comes the tea. Awa an' get yersel' ready. Ye'll feel a deal better when ye've had yer tea.' The old man rose with a more cheerful manner. The mere presence of his son had a reviving influence upon him, and when, after a brief absence, he re-entered the room, the spectacle there was the reverse of depressing. A substantial meal was spread, and Joan, quite restored to equanimity, was seated, trim and tidy, at the head of the table, pouring out tea, with a brass kettle beside her, dazzling to behold in the brilliancy of its polish.

Duncan pushed forward his father's chair, and with quiet unobtrusive attention supplied all his wants ; and Joan was assiduous in her care. A far less genial nature than Adam Moray's would scarcely have resisted the benign influence of all those little loving services, dear to old age ; and by the time he and his son were seated outside the house, smoking peacefully, with the glowing hues of a brilliant sunset fading away behind the dark pine wood clustering round the house where lay the dead man for whom none mourned, he had quite recovered his usual cheerful serenity of mood.

Chapter II

A NINETY YEAR OLD MYSTERY. TUST a hundred years had passed away since the transactions had taken place which had first brought the Morays into connection with the Elliotts of Beechwood. The then possessor of the property was a man somewhat of the high-handed desperado type, not unknown in those days, when opportunities for exercising the peculiar talents of the species had not been so cruelly curtailed as in these democratic times. He was an inveterate gambler, and had soon found himself reduced to most desperate straits for money, and, at last, driven to raise it by the sale of Craignellan, the only unentailed piece of the Beechwood estate. Thus Craignellan had passed to the Morays, having been bought by Adam's great uncle, then a middle aged miser, who having, by dint of unwearied grinding and screwing, achieved the darling aim of his life, to become in his small way a landed pro prietor, had never succeeded in shaking off the penurious habits thus acquired.

He had picked quarrels with all his own family, mainly that he might escape being asked to do anything for any of its less fortunate members, and for nearly thirty years after he left his original home, to take possession of his estate, nothing was ever heard of him. Then, one day, his nephew, William Moray, Adam's father, heard to his no small amazement that the old man had died, leaving no will, and that as next-of-kin he was entitled to succeed to all his possessions. The old miser had, it appeared, been too penurious to face the thought of employing a lawyer to make his will, shrewd enough not to attempt to do it himself, and thus had put off indefinitely any decisive step, until too late. When he set out for Craignellan, William Moray believed himself to be a very rich man. At his journey's end, he found salutary disappointment awaiting him.

He had certainly came into possession of a very nice little property, but the wealth, in money, of the old miser, had been, as is common, greatly exaggerated. It fell very far short of the amount his nephew expected to find, and thus the man, who a week before had been cheerful and contented with an income only just sufficient to maintain his family respectably, began to fret and hold himself an ill-used person, because he found himself only in possession of a sure and comfortable maintenance, with a good round sum lying in hard cash to accumulate against unsxpected contin gencies. He had not been forty-eight hours at Craig nellan ere the traditions of Rossan began to be freely detailed for his benefit. They were some what startling in tenor, and greatly calculated to foster the rapid growth of his incipient grievance.

They were also bewildering in variety, at least as to matters of detail. The typical ' oldest inhabi tant ' was in his glory, being the only authority on wont and usage. But then, in the present case, ' oldest inhabitants ' literally swarmed, and he who gloried in indubitable proof of priority in actual years, was tiiumphantly demolished with longer or more intimate personal acquaintance with facts ; while each possessed a wholly different, and the only trustworthy version of the story. William Moray was a clear-headed man, but it took him a long time to arrive at any opinion as to what portion of these stories rested on such foundations as to afford even a probability of their approximation in any appreciable degree to the truth. All these thriving traditions had reference to the ground known as the Rig Mains, a piece of very good land, over a hundred acres in extent.

The testimony of all the oldest inhabitants, most of whom had worked on the farm, was unanimous as to the fact that, prior to the sale, it had always been a part of Craignellan farm. There unanimity ended, and imaginative ingenuity was let loose upon an imperfectly explained transaction. The main thread of the tradition was much as follows. The Rig Mains had undoubtedly a value for Craignellan, beyond its mere actual value, in consequence of some questions about water supply, and practical working of the farm. David Moray, a shrewd farmer, had seen this at a glance, but the land was also important, though to a much smaller extent, to the home farm at Beechwood, and Colonel Elliott had wished to retain it. There had been a hot dispute over the point, but Moray had yielded — tradition said, as an act of far-sighted policy, He saw the snare Colonel Elliott was spreading for his own feet.

His habits would soon sink him in difficulties again, and Craignellan sold, he had not a bit of unentailed land left, except the Rig Mains, which was absolutely inaccessible, save to the proprietors of Beechwood and Craignellan. Who would buy land he could not reach save by the permission of men who might be total strangers to him ? David Moray saw that not only would reserving the Rig Mains decrease the market value of the rest of the farm, but that, if he bided his time, it would almost cer tainly one day be his, almost at his oAvn price. That all this was pure hypothesis, William Moray felt convinced. His uncle had been the last man in the world to take the public into his confidence, but on the face of it it was a plausible one. Then tradition went on to relate — and this was the part of the story through which it was so difficult to trace the slender thread of probability — that old Moray's anticipations had been justi fied.

Colonel Elliott, actually forced to quit the country, had re-opened communications through a lawyer's firm in a neighbouring county town ; the purchase had been effected by David Moray, and the longed-for land become rightfully his. Meantime, however, Colonel Elliott had lightedupon an heiress ill advised enough to aid with her for tune the restoration of his decaying prosperity, Then, bitterly repenting his bargain, he had set himself to undo it Avithout relinquishing the pro fits, in a manner not inconsistent Avith the times, and his character. He had come to Beechwood, announced to Moray that in drawing up the necessary transfer a most awkward flaw in title deeds had been discovered, and begged him to call the next evening at Beechwood, to meet a very eminent laAvyer, and to bring Avith him all the papers he had bearing on the purchase.

Moray, complying with the request, had found the whole place in confusion, a post chaise and four horses at the door, and Colonel Elliott just coming out of the house. He had hurriedly ex plained that urgent business had forced him to start instantly for London, expressed his regret, promised to write, and begging Moray to go in and take some refreshment, had jumped into the chaise and driven off at a furious pace. Part of the refreshment had been very excellent whisky — always a snare to old Moray, when to be had at other people's expense. He never knew how he got home; but the one thing certain was that every scrap of paper bearing on the sale of the land was gone. Then had come a sudden change of front on the part of Colonel Elliott and his lawyer. The purchase had never been completed, the papers in question had been merely drafts, sent to Mr. Moray for his lawyer's perusal.