Blair Collection > Celtic monthly > Volume 5, 1897

18
THE OELTIO MONTHLY.
your sisters, in all your refined beauty, I have
thought of the Angels in Heaveu." " But
Harry," said the girl, "you are my choice and
by you I will abide." " I am a selfish brute to
listeu to you," he answered, " though at any
moment I would die for you, but there uever
was anything very attractive about me even to
girls in my own rank, and if you had not been
gracious enough to stoop down to my low
estate I should as soon have thought of the
moon being mine as of you." "It is for no lack of
lovers," said Lena, " that I havs chosen, but they
all directly or indirectly (they or their fathers) have
helped to desolate the country. I shall uever
forget when visiting my aunt before I went
to school how she became insane when her
husbaud got possession of his part of the glen,
especially how she would cry out, addressing the
big churn when she heard it going, 'Churn!
churn ! ' she would say, ' you big brutal churn,
you may churn well since many another you
have silenced;' and now, Harry, that her hu.sband
has left, lost all, and is a poor man, she is quite
happy 'clothed and in her right mind.' This
shows me that to unite with anyone wlio has
anything to do with the depopulation of the
Strath would bring a eunse down upon my head.
I would rather sew or darn, or even carry the
creel, than share their ill-gotten and selfish gain! "
"And you can play the piano, embroider, and
read fine books at a glance, which Harry
Maclay's wife need by right know nothing of,"
he said depreciatingly.
" I think there is no one who can do common
things so well as a lady, and I would black your
shoes sooner than play the lady in any of their
big houses," the maid answered with spirit.
"And that you shall never do while there is
strength in these arms. But look here, my lore,
do not tempt me too far, for I am not a stock or
a stone, nor am I without disinterested feelings
either — this, thank God, the poorest of us can
have, our very language instructs us. The
Lowland Scot may look down on the Highlander,
but how rude are their ways of thinking in
comparison, and their manners too how rough.
Now I have none of the learning of the schools,
and can only spell out my precious bible, nor
am I of gentle birth like you, my loved one, but
I have the blood of saints in m}' veins, men who
have lived with God and been directly instructed
from on high Heroes and martyrs they would
have i)een if called upon Well, their fiist
lessons to me were that I should be unselfish
and reuouiice all for the highest, and oh ! my
beautiful girl, my love of loves, if I say to you,
' depart to your kind,' what saint or martyr ever
did anything so difficult ? I once heard one of
your fine gentlemen call me a 'lout,' but wiio
could continue to be so with sucli an hououicd
love within his grasp," and the awkward figure
rose up in majesty, while tears choked his
utterance.
Lena was moved by his eloijuence into
passionate admiration, but only replied, "I have
made my choice, I will not forsake you, you are
worth a ship's load of tho.se smooth tongued
traitors."
It is characteristic of the northern Highlanders,
with their habitual self-control, that they can
talk in a refined manner upon the most heart-
burning themes, in their own beautiful and
pictorial language, without any outward demon-
stration of feeling; and a young giil, while
teasing her wool, may give a prondse of marriage
to her lover without so much as a kiss passing
between them. But as they talk " the fire
burns," and they are often led at such times to a
height of feeling that can only be born of this
quietly concentrated emotion. Thus it happened
that full as these two hearts were of passionate
emotion not a single caress passed between them,
as they passed up the hillside to one of the
little bothies belonging to the shelling. As
they entered the little chamber Harry spread his
plaid over a large bundle of heather that lay in
a corner, and placed the young lady there, '' I
will kindle a fire to keep away the midges,
while you rest a while. My mistress gave me
heaps of bread and cheese and we will soon get
warm milk from the cows, and now we will be
happy. I wonder why God has showered such
a wealth of joy on me" — and the young man
ministered unto the tired maiden. It was nine
o'clock on that June evening, and the sun was
still high up In the heavens in those noithern
regions, when about a dozen young maidens
with a matron or two were milking their cows,
and singing as they milked. They were all
dressed in dark blue home-spun full petticoats,
with loose white calico bodices gathered at the
waist by the band of their checked aprons.
These bodices are doubtless the progenitors of
the indispensable modern blouse, and a working
woman looked better in this costume than in any
modern finery.
Harry came out of the hut and beckoned to a
bright looking matron. "Isabel," said he, "you
are just going to lie down to-night at Miss
Forest's feet, after you have given her some
warm milk."
" You may depend on me, as sure as the sun
is in the heavens," was the cheerful I'eply.
No further questions were asked, but a wave
of thrilling emotion passed over the little
community ; the very air was electric with it.
They were all in synqjathy with the runaways,
but their Highland sense of propriety made them
silent, though doubtful of the issues. The scene
was altogether idyllic. There was scarcely