Blair Collection > Celtic monthly > Volume 5, 1897

118
THE OELTIO MONTHLY.
'■ Oh ! Merran ! " cried Maisie grasping the
old -woman's hands, " you also to desert me !
you cannot be so cruel ? am I to go to my dead
mother's grave this night to tell her that not
one of all those she used to be so good to here,
are wiUiug to take her place for one short
hour. O, JMerran ! I cant, I wont believe you
to be so cruel."
"M'eudail, if it was one of our own lads
your heart was set upon, I would not say you
no, but a foreigner and a Rooshiau — what gaed
you to think of him at all lassie '! Coming from
God knows where to steal our bonnie blue-bell
from her native soil, ochon ! ochon ! "
"But, you will stand by me, Merran, 'a
ghaoil ? ' (love) " cried Maisie, gazing up into
her old nurse's face with all the witchery of
her large pathetic eyes.
"Deed, deed, m'eudail, it's iU against my
heart to say you yes. But if I cauna prevent
it, I must just e'en stand by and see you
marrying yon thing ! And what may his black
name be ? I never can keep it in my mind
a meenite."
"Ivan Ivanovitch," answered Maisie, a proud
and happy light coming into her eyes at the
mere mention of the beloved name. " Or just
to make it sound more homely, Ian Maclau in
our own tongue, Merran, 'a ghaoil.' "•
" Huts ! it's no just so ill to think of him as
Ian Maclan, it seems to bring him a bit nearer."
And the old woman brightened considerably,
as she found the dreaded name within range of
both intelligence and tongue. " But I wish it
had ,been an honest Scottish lad you fancied
'a ghraidh' (dearest). And to think when yon
big ship sailed into the harbour last June, it
was filled with the ' buidseachd ' (witchcraft)
that was to set a sjaell on my bairn, and wean
her from our midst."
"Oh! Merran, if you knew! If I only dared
tell you who he is, even you would be satisfied.
It is just like one of the old fairy 'sgeuls' you
used to tell me over and over again."
" Eh ? " queried Merran, curiosity and the
love of mystery gaining the master over her
prejudice, " what now m' eudail, may he be in
his own country ? A great Lord may be '. But
why can't he tell ! Is one of the old Douglas
blood not good enough to mate with a King ?
" It is not him, Merran. If it only depended
on him. But he is surrounded with enemies
and with danger, and we must keep silence
for a wee whilie, and wait his oj)portuuity to
speak."
" A wee whilie ! when they ask for silence
for a wee whilie m' eudail, it is but seldom
the silence is broken this side of eternity. I
like it little — the silence and the foreign ways
of him. O, me ! if he goes to break the heart
of you, ' a ghaoil,' there's not a lad on the old
Douglas land but would tear him limb from
limb. Aye, deed would they."
" Hush ! Merran, you don't know how you
hurt me with such doubts. He is good and
true, and will you not be in the church yourself
to see us married ? "
"And is it Mr. MacTaggart that'll be
marrying you, 'a ghraidh?" queried the old
woman, drawing her chair close in to the peat
fire.
"No, no, not Mr. MacTaggart. No one
must know who cannot be trusted to hold his
tongue. It is his own priest that will marry us."
" His own — what ! deil a one of them
Rooshian bodies here, the Lord be thankit.
So he'll jest heve to get Mr. MacTaggart or
nobody."
" This very night, Merran, one of his own
priests will come all the way from Russia,
disguised, so that no one may know but that
he is some passing stranger." "See! see!"
cried the girl excitedly as she sprang towards
the window, " Did you see that rocket go up
from the 'Anna,' that was the signal /le was to
give, that the good Father Vassili had arrived,
and tomorrow — to-morrow night— oh! my
own glen, my own glen, I shall never see you
more." And the girl sobbed as if her heart
would break.
It was now the old nurse's task to speak
words of soothing encouragement where she
had formerly chided.
'Come, come, 'mo bhronag,' we'll hev out
the teapot and toss the cups to speir your
fortune with, this very minute." So saying
Merran, assisted by Maisie, bustled about
preparing the tea for the great function.
Lord and Lady Douglas were both absent from
the castle for a fortnight, so that the secret
marriage and premeditated flight was in no
danger of interruption. I do not go into all
the doubts and fears (grave enough) which
induced the proud daughter of a Douglas to
consent to this outr6 step, yet it is those very
outri^ events that really go to make history, not
the meagre outlines conventionally known as
such.
I have touched before on the isolated con-
dition of Maisie, and her lone wanderings by
mount, and glen, and shore. It was in one of
these wanderings she first met with the
Russian, 'Ivan Ivanovitch.' The 'Anna,'
presumably a Russian merchantman, had put
in at the quiet harbour town, in the month of
June, for repairs. It was now the month of
October, yet she lingered on for no ostensible
reason.
Ivan Ivanovitch, by some said to be a rich
Russian nobleman in search of adventures,